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swordsandholly · 1 month

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Fancy

Ch 1: Here’s Your One Chance | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A permanent darkness rests over the city. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city and the constant chill on your skin.

Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century due to pollution and overpopulation. It will turn your lungs black before the age of five without the proper protection.

Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway.

You squeeze into a black mini dress, tying your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own - the only thing worthy of this club. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips. Red lipstick as a final touch. It’s corny, you know, but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.

This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums. To at least make it to the middle city. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.

You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore.

The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles a bit as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop in the upper city. The one that blows all the grime and smog downhill.

The club sits square in central downtown - the bottom level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. It sparkles underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.

You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you.

It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the hunger in their eyes when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light. When your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses.

It’s hard work. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your future.

“Hey! New girl!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.

You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Ruin everything? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. “Y-yes, sir?”

“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.

“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“

“We had a call out. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”

Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear his words. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are harsh and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold…

“You paying attention?” He grunts.

Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”

“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.

Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…

With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough tips to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!

Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your hands and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of four thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.

You slowly head for the back booth - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far more quiet here. The music from the floor muffled by distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight. They could be anyone.

You hope they aren’t the type to get rough.

Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting around the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.

They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly.

“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable customer service headspace you’ve curated over the years. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”

“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body slack and comfortable.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. One of your earliest memories is her lifting you into her arms and spinning around to the song. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.

“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.

“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.

Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.

The illusion of luxury only goes so far.

“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir.”

“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.

John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.

“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red from 2089.”

John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes glow in the low bar light. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”

“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?

John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”

“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.

“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”

“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”

“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“

“Enough of that. Theres a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.

How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.

Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.

“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him.

You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.

Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades. They’re cold and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.

“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“

“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. “A bonnie thing like ye…”

“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.

“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.

Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.

“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”

John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”

“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”

“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.

“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.

It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.

You carefully refill each of their glasses. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s hand rests on your upper thigh. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.

Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.

“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.

“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just smells incredible.” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.

“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down. That feeling comes back.

Prey. You’re just prey.

“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at your mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you.

“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.

“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”

“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it.

“Alright boys, time for business.” John sighs. He suddenly grabs your chin, turning you to face him. It’s a light touch, not too rough but solid. His pupils dilate and yours with them. “You’ll forget everything we say from now until I snap my fingers.”

The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.

It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.

“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.

You were compelled - you know that much. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… touched. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.

“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”

“I’m okay...” You whisper.

“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.

A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by several empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.

John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.

Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood and pleasure - laughing as they went.

You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”

They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.

You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.

“I’m sure.”

John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.

“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.

Strange.

“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.

John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They feel heavier in your hand the normal.

A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”

Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.

Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.

How much is this? A thousand? More?

With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t even get to say thank you.

Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare.

What do they think you did?

Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.

How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?

Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.

The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it?

There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are.

It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.

Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!

For now, at least, you can bask in it.

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chara-55 · 5 months

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Trolls Night

(Or hairball. I prefer Trolls Night it sounds better chokes-) I've been dying to draw that one framed picture back at their house so badly xD. And I noticed no one hasn't done a redraw so let me do the honors.

#chara_55 #John Dory with his partner aw #His brothers are so supportive 😔#Yes that's Mandy #I came up with a headcanon that JD & Mandy dated back then cuz she's the only one I've seen so far in Trolls who's a match in the #picture frame. Plus both of them have similarities having responsibility for looking after younger trolls #its a fun & silly hc I thought I think its adorable. Anyway xD #trolls #trolls band together #trolls fanart #trolls john dory #trolls jd #trolls spruce #trolls bruce #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls branch #branch trolls #mandy sparkledust

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noodles-and-tea · 1 month

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Hey there! I've said something before but now I want to say that your art is great and that you are responsible for getting me into Sherlock & co. But I have a burning question regarding your thoughts on Guy Richtie's Sherlock. Do you like it?

I actually do like it!!!

#I honestly went into the movies expecting not to enjoy it #it’s kind of the only Sherlock media my family had consumed before I got to it #and I’m not that big on rdj so I assumed they were gonna do it dirty #and listen I have qualms with aspects #the main one being they tried a little bit hard to make Sherlock ”cool”#(not that bbc isn’t guilty of this but)#BUT #the John/sherlock dynamic is actually really cute #I think it’s a bit of a different take but it’s also a lot of fun and I really did enjoy the movies #plus Jude law as Watson so I’m a happy camper #glad you’re enjoying the podcast too tho!!!#I love all the different iterations!!#my art #ask #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock

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meowpupp · 6 months

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we need more puppy girl reader pls!!!

say less 🙏

1.4K- owner!price x chubby!puppygirl

TW- puppy play, degradation, cum play, exhibitionism(?), humiliation, sorry if you have a stuffed toy called 'fluffy,' general rough sex, HYBRID FIC, price is jealous over a stuffed bear,

owner!price who decides you’ve been so good recently, so good in fact that you deserve a treat.

he sees it when he’s in cue for petrol- a cute stuffed bear. soft brown fur, fuzzy ears and big eyes. just like his favourite pup.

when he first gives you the plush it’s innocent. you give it a dumb name, fluffy or something. he doesn’t pay much mind. all he cares about is how happy his pup is, tail wagging and excited yaps.

after days of being sidelined by some stupid ball of fluff, price starts to get jealous. he knows it’s irrational. the bear is just something you entertain yourself with when he can't, but jealousy still stirs in his gut.

it’s like fluffy glares triumphantly at him when you give him attention. price watches in envy as you lazily chew on its ears, nuzzle and lick its fur. all things you used to do to him.

one day, it gets too much for him. after a painful workday, all price wants is his sweet puppy girl. Instead, he walks into the house to see you cuddled up with the fucking bear. its beady eyes stared back into his as if saying, ‘ha-ha, she likes me more.’

he’s on you in an instant, ignoring your yelp as he pulls you up. price makes you kneel, pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“what, want your bear?” he scoffs at you, your brain still sleepy, trying to play catch up, “c'mon then, since you want it so much, ride it.”

it takes you a moment to process what he’s saying. ride it? Ride Fluffy? but he’s your bear- soft, warm and plush. he’s a toy, but not that kind of toy.

before you can even reply, price grips your jaw with one of his big hands. his skin is rough and calloused, almost scratchy as he manhandles you.

“are you deaf pup? or perhaps you think you only take orders from the fucking bear now?” price shakes your face side to side to catch your attention, “disobedient fucking mutt, don’t even know who your owner is.”

he kicks apart your knees, creating space for him to shove the bear between them. “go on. ride it. hump it like the desperate thing you are.” he takes a step back, arms crossed as he glares down at you.

Price scoffs when you start rolling your hips. His eyes analyse you, how your back arches, how your eyes screw shut, how your lips part as you whine. all while you grind down on your beloved plush.

“yeah… bet it feels good, huh? making your dumb puppy-cunt feel tingly?” the man sits back on one of the couches, lighting a cigar as he watches. “tell me pup, does it feel better than me? do you like riding the bear more than my cock?”

you whine, hips bucking at his growly voice. as you speed up, price laughs. he relaxes on the couch, cigar smoke filling the air, making you dizzy. tells you when to speed up or to slow down. when to grind harder or softer. directs you as if you’re making him a personal porno.

“ah, now look at that.” he stands, setting his cigar down on an ashtray. walking to you, he crouches down, “now pup, look at what you’ve done.”

he pulls the bear plush from between your legs, holding it up. it’s drenched in your slick, fur glistening. “poor Fluffy, you’ve made him a mess.” he sighs, throwing it on the ground, “dirty pup. can’t control yourself can you?” you shake your head, shaky hands reaching for him while you babble.

his eyes scan over your body as you cling to him. ears low as your thighs tremble. you yap and whine at him- something about how it wasn’t enough, you didn’t cum, to please let you cum.

Price sighs as if you’re an inconvenience. his eyes linger on your cunt. its dripping with slick, puffy and flushed from all the friction. he meets your gaze. melting at your teary, desperate expression. he doesn’t show it, instead reaching out, repositioning you. your back meets the hardwood, legs forced apart as he slots between them.

price doesn’t even look at you, his eyes trained on your cunt. his fingers poke and prod, parting your lips to watch your clit twitch when exposed. your hips buck as you squirm, causing a hand to grip your thigh and still you.

“such a desperate bitch,” his eyes finally meet yours as he slaps the inside of your thigh, “maybe i should get you a stud, hm? give you to some mutt, let him fuck you? then you’ll know how good i am to you pup.” his fingers start rubbing slow circles on your clit, “simon tells me his mutt is always full of energy. if you get this wet grinding, you’ll be yowling around that pups knot.”

prices eyes dart away from yours, ignoring your babbles as he continues to inspect your cunt. he slides a finger in, eyebrows furrowing. his other hand leaves your thigh, slapping your clit. he lets out shuddering breath as your warm, wet walls clench around hisi finger, his dick twitching.

“getting this fucking wet and loose over that thing?” he glances to the soaked bear, “need to teach you a fucking lesson. who your cunt is supposed to get wet for”

he pulls out, using the hand on your thigh to flip you over. he pulls your ass flush against his hips, a hand in your hair to force your upper body down. the bear lays just in front of you.

he audibly scoffs when you reach out for it, bringing it close for comfort. price pulls your tail, making you instinctively arch your back. he grinds your hips back on him, groaning. “shh, keep fucking still.” he grunts, rutting his clothed dick into you

it takes only seconds for your dripping holes to wet his jeans. even less time for him to unbutton his pants and shove his boxes down. with his cock now free, he thrusts between your thighs.

your slick acts as lube as he fucks the fat flesh of your thighs. “bloody fucking hell.” he growls. his dick just barely pokes out the other side, your thick flesh completely consuming him.

price angels himself, now nudging your clit with every thrust. you whine and squirm pathetically beneath him, back arching as he spanks your ass. he uses the hand in your hair to shove your face into the toy bear, forcing you to inhale the scent of your own slick.

you beg and whine into the plush, your voice now muffled. he continues, not giving in and fucking your cunt, grinning as you start to sob. he presses your face harder against the bear, fucking your thighs the same he would your cunt. his hips slam against your ass, stinging the flesh and making it flush.

within minutes, price cums all over your thighs. thick globs spill down the front of them onto the floor. as he pulls away, he pulls you with him- the hand in your hair forcing you onto your knees.

“look at the mess you’ve made,” he scolds, free hand circling your clit. the bear lays discarded on the floor, stuffing now soaked with drool and slick. there’s a puddle of his cum on the ground, mixing with your fluids. he ignores your babbles as you cry about not cumming, instead he pushing your face to the ground.

“i’ve taught you better than this, love. you know better than to make a mess without cleaning it.” price shoves your cheek into the puddle of his cum, the now cold liquid smearing across your face, “once you’ve cleaned up your mess, ill clean you.”

he lets you up. his hand trailing along your body to your cunt, slipping two fingers in, finally giving you what you’ve been begging for. “might even make you cum, hm?” he slowly thrusts his fingers, “ that floor better be fucking sparkling by the time i come back.” as he pulls out, he slaps your ass agiain. a sadistic smirk spreads over his face as he gets up, taking his cigar with him as he leaves.

tonight you’ll definitely be clinging to him, and not that fucking bear plush.

#mw2 smut #price x chubby!puppygirl #price x reader #price x reader smut #john price x reader #john price smut #price x female reader #fem reader #female reader #mw smut #THIS CAME TO ME IN A FEVER DREAM #price x puppygirl #im sorry if you named your plus teddy #I JUST GOOGLED NAMES AND PICKED ONE #anyways i hope this is okay #havent written in AGES

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lxvvie · 5 months

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No thirsts from me (yet) but how about some fluff and something to make ya hungry? Cause I’m about to grill and cook up some ribs and briskets and I need to know how my boys from TF141 are helping me and reacting to my papa’s prize winning brisket? 🥺😫

Barbecue sounds good as hell right now and I also wish a Bucee's was nearby:

Price - Would absolutely not want you out there cooking the food alone; he will protect you, even from the grill. Will insist on heating it up for you. Is also in love with your brisket.

Gaz - The one who's helping you the entire time. Taking mental notes because he's unabashedly a foodie and loves to cook. Oh yeah, shit's delicious, darling. ❤️

Soap - The one who's wearing the Shag the Chef apron. Insists on grilling because you prepared the food. The one if you feed him a piece of meat because he's your unofficial taste tester will make it sexual. ALWAYS, bonnie.

Ghost - The bloke's like the dad from A Christmas Story who'll help you cook but has to be kept out of the kitchen or else he'll snack on the food. Gives you some bullshit excuse (with a smirk) about how he had to try another piece because he couldn't quite "savor it the first time". Yes, it's bloody delicious, and yes, he'll eat every fucking bite, too.

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cerise-on-top · 4 months

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Hello!! How would tf141 react to a very sassy reader? Like sassing them out for no reason what so ever?

Hey! Like this, I think!

TF141 with a Sassy Reader

Price: He can appreciate some good sass, as long as it’s appropriate. God knows how often he’s been sassed by one of his soldiers, especially Gaz, so he doesn’t mind it, to some degree. You can sass him if you want, he’ll sass you back if he can think of a comeback that’s fitting. However, if you sass him for the sake of being mean to him instead of trying to get a good chuckle out of something, or maybe making a situation less dire, then he won’t be as appreciative of it. Don’t get me wrong, Price could shout at you if he really wanted to, but he’d much rather make you feel some guilt and remorse for inappropriate behavior. Although it’s fairly rare that happens, it will happen if you get on his nerves too much. Will then ask you if you think what you said was really appropriate in such a situation. You can then apologize still and all will be good as long as you keep your mouth shut. Once he’s calmed down, you can crack a joke at his expense again. Again, he’s used to such things as a captain, but keep it professional and stay polite, for the most part, and you won’t have a problem with him.

Gaz: He sasses you right back. He’s not particularly afraid of authority as long as they’re up for some good natured fun. So it really doesn’t matter if you’re above or below him rank wise. As soon as you open your mouth and some sass leaves it, he’ll immediately have thought of something to say in retaliation. I wouldn’t be surprised if you small sass battles could go on for a while. It’s a game to him, the first person that doesn’t know how to respond anymore simply loses, end of story. Will slightly mock you if you did lose, though. After all, you use such big words, and then you lose to him of all people? Surely, you can do better. It’s not impossible to out-sass Gaz, but he always has something stupid to say if he can, so it would take a while before you could properly beat him at his own game. He doesn’t give up easily either. Even as the conversation is about to be over, if he can think of something to say he’ll just say it. Sort of ends up looking forward to talking with you, sometimes he just needs to be a little shit who runs his mouth without any consequences. Sassing Price sometimes brings consequences with it, but not with you. With you he’ll be as lightheartedly mean as he can be.

Ghost: He’s been shit talked so much, he doesn’t really care anymore. He’s a scary and intimidating guy, so naturally people have something to say about him. However, most of them usually don’t have the courage to say anything like it to his face. So yeah, he would be a bit surprised if someone actually did sass him for a bit. Would go quiet for a moment, processing that someone just said something mean to him. When he wants to be, even Ghost can be a bit sassy himself, though in his case he usually just ends up sounding mean more so than anything else. Will “sass” you back when he can. It’s a bit intimidating from someone like him, especially since his sass borders on threatening, but you can be sure he won’t go through with it. He just really wants to see how far he can push this entire thing and what he needs to do in order for you to stop running your mouth and cower in fear as well. That never comes, however, so he ends up sassing/threatening you a bit as well. I could see you becoming buddies over this, it’s really rare for someone to talk to him like that. It makes him smile when you can think of an especially good comeback. Might sass someone alongside you, if they really deserve it.

Soap: He definitely has some fun with you. Although he can be quite sassy himself as well when he wants to be, he usually just hops on the jokes of other people. Sees you sassing him as some kind of challenge, so you can be certain he’ll challenge you right back. After all, if you can run your mouth then surely you can prove yourself as well, right? It’s all a competition in his eyes and he’s somewhat of a sore loser. Though, if you really are all talk and there’s nothing behind what you’re saying, then he’ll get Gaz involved as well, thinking that, because his buddy is very sassy himself, there will be some fun sassing going on. He’s usually right, but he still stands by what he said: You should be able to prove yourself after everything you have to say. Soap doesn’t take too kindly to being sassed for no reason whatsoever. He will take you up on what you said and will have you do it better than he does. If you are better than him, fine. You get to run your mouth as much as you want, he can’t really complain then. However, if you end up being worse at something than he is then he’s earned every right to sass you to hell and back instead. It’s all fair in his eyes. If you improve you get to sass him again, but good luck.

#cod #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #I don't really have much to say today either #except I made a new blog #after much consideration I finally caved and made a new one #I made it because I got another peculiar request #plus writing is the only thing that's fun as of right now #even if my rules still apply. still a bit annoyed at the fact that quite a lot of people don't read them #it's mostly just the character limit but come on. you can still read my rules you know? it won't kill you #I'm thinking of genuinely just not writing requests where it goes bove the character limit #if you can't be bothered to read my rules then I can't be bothered to write your request #obviously this isn't for this request but I've gotten quite a few just disregarding my rules and it's starting to piss me off quite badly

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awkwardarmadildo · 28 days

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eight and a half minutes into the reigate squire part one and i love them all i love them all so much so so so much theyre so silly and goofy and i want to chew on them who let them all be so fucking perfect whoever it was deserves a raise and a bonus and paid time off but maybe not time off because i desperately need more of them all being silly and goofy and strange and lovely like genuinely sherlock panicking and ordering without thinking and then giving it to john to try is something i do all the time i love them so much i dont even have the words to articulate how much i thoroughly enjoy the simple domesticity and off time like the adventures and cases are incredible obviously but i LIVE for the simple moments like that or at the beginning when mariana and sherlock were teasing him for his atrocious handwriting like thats so cute so throuple to me bro

sorry for the absolutely Shit readability, this is an attempt at a thought purge to try and be normal for the rest of the day lmao

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dolokhoded · 7 months

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what's the buzz, tell me what's a-happening ???

#jesus chris superstar #not really this is just dolokhoded bible. but the quote is jcs !#(well i mean it could be. its not any specific production anyways.)#judas iscariot #he's the only one i tag always #but everyone's there. all the apostles plus magdalene and joanna and susanna though you can't see them very well #im not religious just insane.jpg #remember when i had an art tag #i SAID im gonna draw something proper and i DID IT OKAY #LOOK AT JOHN !!!!!!! OBSESSED WITH HIM !#my normal john design is much lamer but in this weird 70ish but not really in any real timeline 'verse he KICKS ASS #i was going for like. green eyed blonde baby cherub with him anyways but it really popped off with this specific design he's the only one i #changed so much between the two verses.#cause he looked so lame.#this is going to get less notes that like. the stupidest most half assed art i've done for fandoms that actually exist but im going to try #and not care. its fine. its fine #oh sorry for how shit the quality is btw. youre never going to get good camera quality here at tumblr dot com slash dolokhoded lol im #so broke . maybe i'll try to fix it someday.

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officialspec · 7 months

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music ask game: autoclave by the mountain goats!

#ask #obligatory ljg song. john rly does sing like a woman its awesome #ik one of these is Also tmg but truly no one is doing it like them u know #plus bleed out is underrated imo

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eskildit · 10 months

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do you think there are days that pyrrha forgets what she looked like before? she's been in g1deon's body for thousands of years do you think there are moments where she struggles to recall her own face?

#i do like to imagine pyrrha and palamedes had conversations on new rho about what they used to look like #we know there are portraits of valency so presumably there could images of pyrrha out there somwhere #plus pyrrha and anastasia are the only ones who still have their names used by the houses (the Dve Territorials)#also we're not even accounting for whatever the state of her corpse is on the mithraeum because im p sure its still there #and i do not know if the whole deal with things not aging because they are close to john also applies to all the cavalier corpses #plus this is an excuse to ask folks to say in the tags how they imagine pyrrha looked before #she was butch before. to ME.#i think she and g1deon looked somewhat similar but not that similar since its said that her eyes dont fit his face #plus i like g1deon and pyrrha as parallels to pal and cam so to me its similar levels of looking alike #eskildit posts tlt #pyrrha dve #the locked tomb #ok to rb

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swordsandholly · 27 days

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Keep it Casual

NSFW | MDNI

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem.plus size.Reader

cw: injury mention, death mention (in passing - no character death), brief weed smoking

Word count: 3.7k

One-shot/Drabble

Boy loves girl, girl loves boy. They’re not allowed to admit it, though. It’s good, right? All the benefits without any of the commitments. It’s what they both want, right?

Johnny MacTavish is an enigma to you in many ways. You’ve known each other for years - ever since you came over to the UK for Uni. He was in basic training then, out drinking when he approached you. His buddies were brutish and rude, only looking to add a soft American to their list of conquests, but Johnny… he spoke to you differently. Looked into your eyes, listened intently, gave you his full attention and nothing less.

You’ve been thick as thieves ever since. Beyond that, even. You and Johnny are entirely indivisble. Even when he’s gone for weeks, months, at a time, you’re inheretnly interlinked. Whether by phone calls or the matching tattoos you got on your ankles one drunken night, you’re connected.

There aren’t any labels for it. When people ask you default to best friends, but that doesn’t quite encapsulate it. There isn’t a word in the English language for what you have. You’re not partners - you’ve both had plenty of those each, however briefly. Even those always end. You and Johnny can’t be torn apart, though.

You know what the problem is. The reason you both keep it this vague, amorphous thing between you. Labels are frightening. Labels make things real. Labels mean you have to tell other people what you are, that suddenly there are expectations to live up to.

Labels feel like a death sentence in his line of work. Too many lost husbands, partners, lovers.

You lay on your belly in bed, legs kicked up in the air as you engross yourself in a book when the door knob clicks to the side. Johnny has a key to your place, of course, just as you have one to his. You don’t bother to get up. The chain always hangs loose when he’s gone - knowing he’ll come around at any moment. The door would stay wide open if it could, just for him.

You hear a thunk as as he drops his duffle on the ground. He didn’t go home yet, just came straight here. His boots fall on the floor next, then his jacket drops quietly in the hallway as he slowly makes his way to your room - to you.

“Bonnie lass…” Johnny greets, crawling across the bed toward you. He managed to get down to just his standard issue t-shirt and boxer briefs before climbing in. He knows you hate outside clothes on the bed.

“Johnny.” You smile, rolling onto your back as he climbs over you. Your fingers card through his mohawk, tugging gently on the strands curling at the base of his neck. “Need a trim there, bud.”

“Aye.” He chuckles. “Was waitin’ tae see ye. No one does it as good as my girl.”

His girl. Your boy. That’s the closest either of you ever get to tempting fate.

You hum. “How was work?”

Work. That word doesn’t even come close to what Johnny does. You can’t say more - can’t utter the word deployment. Coward.

“Ach no’ tha’ bad this time. Go’ my heid knocked around a bit.”

“So the usual?”

“Oi.” He scoffs in mock offense. “Donnae be rude.”

“I’m never rude.” You snicker, turning over and reaching for the top dresser of your nightstand. “Do you want to roll or me?”

“I think I’ve earned some princess treatment.” Johnny flops back on the bed, a finger hooking in the hem of your cotton panties as you sit up. He always does this when he first gets back - has to have some part of him touching some part of you. Not that you’d ever complain. You need it just as much as him, though you’d die before admitting to it.

Those blue eyes bore into you as you roll. It’s tradition - a celebratory joint when he gets back. Then you’ll binge all the TV shows and movies you saved up while he was gone and order an ungodly amount of take out. Indian. His favorite. Sometimes Johnny will go back to his apartment the next day to get some quiet time, maybe visit his parents, before he has to go back to work on the base but other times he’ll stay with you his whole time back home. Just taking up your space and being so domestic it makes your teeth hurt like too-sweet candy.

You always hope he stays.

“First hit for the guest of honor?” You smile, holding the joint out for him.

“Och, yer a blessing, hen.” His hand is warm as it brushes yours when he takes the joint from you, eyes locked on your own. There’s something intense in his stare that you aren’t used to. It makes you look away, almost shy under his gaze. He coughs suddenly, a harsh burst of smoke puffing from his lips.

You can’t help but laugh at him, “Getting weak lungs, soldier boy?”

“Oh, feck off.” He elbows you gently.

Somehow you’ve already got the giggles. It’s just something about being around him that makes everything feel better - brighter. More lively. Even the colors of your ugly little ashtray (the one you painted terribly when Johnny’s niece insisted the three of you go paint pottery while babysitting) feel so much more clear with him near.

“Oh!” His brows shoot up suddenly, as if he just remembered something direly important. “I got somethin’ fer ye. Be right back.”

You watch him jog down the hall - definietly not staring at his butt, no ma’am - and listen to the sounds of Johnny rooting around through his duffle bag. Your lips quirk up into a smile when he lets out a distant “aha!”

He comes back with a small, velvety box, flopping back into bed beside you and criss-crossing his legs. “There was this little artisan shop in a town we stopped through. The Captain wanted tae get his wife somethin’ an’ I saw this an’ thought of ye.”

The box slips into your hands. It’s small and light. You roll it between your palms a couple times before shaking it with a grin. Before you can make one of your usual silly quips about what might be inside, your eyes meet Johnny’s. They’re on fire, sparkling with anticipation for you to open the little gift. He’s gotten you things before (you actually have a shelf dedicated to his nicknacks from around the world) but this seems… different. There’s a heaviness to his expression that you’re not used to.

You glance between him and the box briefly - opening it slowly. Your eyes turn to saucers as you come face to face with a finely crafted silver necklace. A little four pointed star with a sparkling gem in the middle that looks the same icy blue as Johnny’s eyes. Little flecks of pink and green catch the light as you turn it between your fingers.

“Johnny-“ You gasp, at a total loss for words.

“Ye like it?” He asks with an uncharacteristically nervous pitch to his voice. His palms rub together absently as he glances between you and the necklace in your hand.

“I love it.” You smile softly, heart fluttering as Johnny breaks out in a grin of his own. “Put it on me?”

“Course.” He whispers, pushing your hair to the side and locking the clasp with deft fingers. It hangs perfectly underneath your clavicles, resting between the other jewelry you wear daily.

Those hands linger for a moment, before both slowly brush down over your shoulders. Rough, calloused fingers glide across your skin and leave an electric current in their wake as light kisses trail up your neck. “Missed ye, bonnie.”

You sigh and lean back against his broad chest. “Missed you too.”

Teeth sink into the crook of your neck, pulling a gasp from your lips. Large, rough hands grab and knead your tits through your thin tank top. He plucks at your nipples - rolling them between his fingers as he sucks deep marks into your neck.

You open your mouth to complain about leaving visible hickies but all that comes out is a breathy moan. You run your hands up his thighs on either side of you, dragging your nails across his skin in the way that always leaves him panting.

One hand travels down, grabbing onto the softness of your belly appreciatively before continuing. His fingers glide over your covered pussy, teasing you to gasp and squirm under him. Rough fingers continue to pluck at your nipple, eventually pushing their way under your tank top for better access. A low hiss escapes Johnny’s lips as your breasts fall free of the camisole.

“Fuck, bonnie. Can I taste ye? Please? Need ye so bad.” Johnny groans in your ear. “Please.”

How could you ever say no to him? He doesn’t even have to ask, really.

He repositions you on your back, tucking a pillow under your hips. Ever the considerate type. His fingers hook in your panties, a low, pleased rumble echoing through his chest as he shucks off the soaked fabric.

No matter what he’s doing, Johnny’s eyes always find yours. He could be across the most crowded room in the world and, imminently, they’ll find yours. They crinkle at the sides with his smile that pulls the scar on his chin.

“So pretty fer me.” He murmurs, lowering himself between your thighs as he bites and kisses up the soft flesh between your legs.

Johnny is a lot of things, and a total much is easily near the top of the list. Maybe number one, even. He presses his face into your cunt - mouthing over your clit and dragging his tongue down between your lips. It’s almost more for him, you think, the way he drags his tongue through the crease between your thigh and pussy. You can’t complain - you would be a fool to with the way he absolutely worships your body.

A harsh suck to your clit as your back arching. Strong arms wrap around your thick thighs to hold you down as he devours you.

“Taste so good, lass. Sweet as fuckin’ candy.” He moans against your cunt.

“Johnny!” You gasp, hand tangling in his overgrown mohawk. A low moan pulls out of you as he licks from your back hole to your clit before stuffing his tongue as deep in your pussy as he can. Chants of obscenities and pleading and oh, god, Johnny please you’re so good fall from your lips.

You know better than to try to hide your sounds. If he could he’d devour them just as much as he already does you - inject them straight in his veins to live there forever. Two fingers push into you, the stretch causing you to gasp. Johnny chuckles as you buck into the touch. The fingers curl directly up into that spot inside you as he nips at your clit.

Your climax hits you like a train - stars blooming behind your eyes and your back arching sharply. You’re always so sensitive after he’s been gone. So ready to have him again.

“Thassit, tha’s my good girl.” Johnny kisses up your thigh, working you through your orgasm with his fingers. “Ready fer me, baby? Missed this pretty cunt so bad - thought about her every day.”

You nod excitedly - mind too fuzzy and content to come up with the words to respond. Lazily, Johnny reaches over to the nightstand to grab a condom. He knows your home, like you, inside and out. Every nook and cranny might as well be his.

It could be his.

It should be his.

Johnny cups your cheek, kissing you slow and deep. His tongue parting your lips gently before exploring every inch of your mouth. Those rough hands trail down your body with reverence. One going from your cheek, to your sternum, over your belly to sink into the softness of your waist. The other holds tight on your hip as he lines up.

You gasp and moan against each other as he pushes in. The stretch is delicious. Your nails sink into his strong back.

“Practically made fer me, bonnie.” He groans as he moves. It’s slow, languid.

He’s so beautiful. Always has been. No matter how he changes - new hair, new scars, new tattoos - he’s still beautiful. The prettiest man you’ve ever met. You run your fingers through the downey layer of dark hair over his chest - tracing the outlines of his muscles, up over his thick shoulders to cup his cheek.

Your bodies move together easily - a well practiced dance that you’ve perfected over the years.

“Christ.” Johnny gasps into your ear - strong forearms bracket your head, burying you under him. “I lov-“

You turn your head, catching his lips in a kiss. It’s terrible of you, you’re sure, but there’s nothing those words can communicate that a well timed gasp or a perfectly placed caress can’t say better. His nose knocks against yours, your hands travel all over him, seeking out any purchase they can find.

It turns desperate. A clawing need as you rediscover each other for the millionth time. Wet, open mouth kisses against each others skin and bodies moving perfectly in tandem. The light high from smoking leaves your skin warm and buzzing with electricity. It borders on overstimulating - just barely this side of too much.

“Johnny…” You whine, tilting your head back.

“Aye?” He pants, laving at your clavicle. “Gonnae cum f’me? Cream all over my fuckin’ cock?”

All you can manage is a keen, teeth sinking into his shoulder to hide you face form him. A hand tangles in your hair, pulling you down to stare up at him.

“Eyes on me, hen. Want - ah - want ye lookin’ at me when I make ye cum.”

It’s too intense. It always is looking into those baby blues. As if they can see right through to the most buried parts of yourself. Johnny shifts your hips up ever so slightly, the new angle bullying his head against your g-spot with each thrust. Your nails claw across his shoulder blades.

It doesn’t take long before you’re careening over the edge with him, bodies tensing against each other. Clenching down around him like a vice while you gasp for air.

“There she is. Tha’s my girl.” Johnny murmurs against your lips, still rocking into you in short, sloppy motions. Just to drag it out a little longer until you whine at the overstimulation.

You let yourself lay back to catch your breath, floating back to earth while Johnny disappears to toss the condom in the trash. He’s back nearly as fast as he left, pulling you against his chest and burying you both under the soft sheets of your bed.

“Shower?” Johnny whispers into your hair, eventually. You nod against his chest, slowly peeling yourselves apart. Your fingers remain tangled all the way to the bathroom.

He whirls you after you turn on the shower, kissing you slow and deep as you wait for the water to warm up. A warm hand splash across your lower back - keeping you close. You’re left breathless when he finally pulls back, pupils blown so wide in the low evening light that you can hardly see the blue of his eyes.

You sigh to yourself as you step into the shower, grateful that you splurged on the apartment with the especially large bathroom. It definitely wasn’t with Johnny in mind. You’d never make your decisions based around such a nebulous relationship.

Not the size of your bathroom - enough to fit both your wide frame and his broad shoulders.

Not the location of your apartment - only a few blocks from his.

Not keeping his favorite snacks stocked at all times just in case he comes home early.

Not referring to your apartment as his home.

“Lean down a bit.” You smile, pouring a glob of shampoo into your hand for him. Johnny’s always been picky about his hair care. You always make sure it’s on hand in your bathroom.

He does the same for you, of course, when he can, but somehow you both always end up at your place instead. Not that you’d ever complain. You like your place. It’s safe. Warm. A cocoon away from all the parts of the world that have scarred you so deeply.

Johnny groans happily as you scratch his scalp, the quality shampoo cleaning far more deeply than any of that standard issue stuff he gets on deployment ever could. You watch the suds slowly drip down over the lines of his back, breath catching as your eyes settle on a nasty, raised patch of skin you hadn’t seen before.

It looks like a chunk got ripped out of his back, right under his ribs.

“Johnny.” You gasp.

“Hm?” He looks over his shoulder at you, brows raising as he realizes what you’re looking at. “Oh tha’? It’s nothin’. Just go’ a bit knocked around, remember?”

You bite your lip, tamping down the rising fear in your gut. “D-does it hurt?”

“I’m fine, lovie.” Johnny turns, giving you that sparkling, million dollar grin. He knows it scares you, shakes you to the core.

You’ve already lost everyone else in your life, having the ever present threat of losing Johnny as well is too much to handle sometimes. It keeps you up at night, when he’s away, imagining all the worst that could happen to him.

How easy it would be for a simple bullet or knife to shatter your world.

That’s why the two of you keep up this little arrangement. This song and dance at arms length. To spare you. Both of you. Either when he doesn’t come back or you break and run.

You won’t run, though. As much as it hurts, the good is too good to give up. You’ll stay through it all, with just enough distance to keep your sanity.

“Ye with me?” Johnny asks gently, slowly pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Long week.” You lie, leaning up on your tip toes to plant a small kiss in the corner of his mouth.

He hums, turning to meet your lips. You let yourself fall into him, fingers running through the hair on his chest, up to the back of his neck. He just feels right under your hands. Perfectly molded to press up against you - hard muscle to balance out the softness of your body. Angles and curves. Push and pull. Sun and moon.

Holy hell, you’ve become a sap.

“Sit.” You point to the chair you drug into the bathroom and Johnny happily plops down - big, fluffy towels tied around your chest and waist respectively. A content smile settles across his face as you slowly work your way across his scalp with the electric razor. You let your fingers to scrape along after you just the way he likes.

When you were young, you watched your mother cut your fathers hair. It seemed so subservient to you. Shameful, almost. You said you’d die before doing that for any man.

You carefully raise each section of his mo-hawk, cutting it down to the exact length Johnny likes to style it. A little on the short side, actually, so that it has time to grow before looking messy. Shearing the sides and taking extra care around his ears. He doesn’t need any more nicks or scars.

Johnny suddenly looks pensive as he watches you in the mirror - carefully taking in each of your movements.

“You’re worrying.” You murmur.

“I-“ He sighs. “It’s nothin’.”

“Johnny.” You level your gaze on his in the mirror, he looks off to the side.

“I’m just- I cannae-“ He sighs. “I miss ye.”

You snort. “I’m right here.”

Johnny shrugs. For once, he stops talking. You hate when he does. It’s the only true hallmark that something is wrong.

“Johnny-“

“Do ye want tae hear a new Ghost joke?” He interrupts. It’s an out. You’ll let him have it.

“Lay it on me.”

“Whit’s the difference between the bird flu and the swine flue?”

“What?”

“One requires tweetment an’ the other requires oinkment.”

A huffy laugh escapes you despite yourself. “That’s terrible.”

“Aye. Imagine listenin’ tae that in a life or death situation. Could be the last thing I hear!”

You giggle, finishing up with shaping the edges of his hairline. “How is it?”

Johnny stands, leaning close to the mirror and running a hand over his hair. Your eyes lock onto that newly forming scar again. It makes your throat feel tight.

He stretches his arms way over his head with a groan. “Think it’s time f’some proper lazin’ about.”

The rest of the night goes by as they usually do when he gets home. Indian take out, a romcom in the background, another round of fucking. Or two. It’s near eleven when you finally settle into the sheets, Johnny long asleep beside you. Comfortably snoring with that angelic peacefulness you only ever see in his sleep.

Will he look that peaceful if he dies?

The thought makes you want to throw up.

It takes all your mental fortitude to push that train of thought away. Opting to lay beside him, eyes flicking across his features as you attempt to memorize them all. The curve of his strong brow, the arch of his nose, the slight part in his lips as he sleeps. Your thumb traces the scar on his chin while you cup his cheek. As if sensing your current state - and, if you’re honest with yourself, you’re sure he can - a strong arm wraps around you to lock you against his chest. You let your legs tangle, breathing him in and following the pattern of the rise and fall of his chest. Real and tangible under your hands.

You’re just so glad that, at least right now, he’s home.

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stalebagels · 8 months

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Hi I'm still obsessed with them and I can't draw so I did this instead

#strike force five #plus one solitary strike force eight #current mood: bullying jimmy fallon again #if i could draw people I'd be a menace #john oliver #stephen colbert #jon stewart #jimmy kimmel #jimmy fallon #seth meyers #conan o'brien #craig ferguson #late night #strike force eight #meme #i dont know the context for the star trek one it's just one of the only ones i could find that had eight people lmao

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grimgummies · 2 months

Note

Not going to lie, I’m surprised the fandom isn’t eating up the new tone shift and characters’ struggles in ep5. Maybe I’m not looking in the right spaces but fandoms usually love that stuff.

I KNOW I mean the amount of angst art that was made prior to the episode really made me think people were gonna take everything from the new ep and run with it. Though that's not to say people didn't. I've seen plenty of people discuss what happened in the episode (especially regarding John and his daughter/his family in general,, people were going insane over that and I get it like we're getting deeper into what happened to him and his family which I'm also super interested in. Plus seeing his photos in Ignacio's house really got people discussing his connections/past with the cult and how there's such a specific focus on John).

#Grim answers #spooky month #maybe I'm also looking in the wrong places pff #but I kinda hate that one of the things I remember regarding the whole John nd Ignacio thing was ppl making a stink out of shipping them #GUYS PLEASE ARE WE NOT GOING TO DISCUSS THE IMPLICATIONS OF IGNACIO KEEPING SUCH A CLOSE EYE ON JOHN SPECIFICALLY??#OR THE FACT HE LIKELY REPORTED GREGOR TO THE CULT AND HAD HIM KIDNAPPED AND INDOCTRINATED??#<< Oh and speaking of that some ppl thought Gregor died but I'm like 99% sure they just got him into the cult #I'm pretty sure they only sacrifice children to The Eyes #Plus having a little-known but potentially powerful religious figure work under their cult could work so well in their favour #Like I think I saw someone say that Gregor being in the cult could be a means to get more people into the cult by tricking them into-#thinking Gregor's church is just an innocent regular one. But once you get in it's just another way for the cult to find more members #But no one really thinks much about it since again Gregor is new in town so he's not really known. No one is going to be suspicious of a-#sudden change in behaviour from him (except maybe Jack and John + Skid and Pump but Skid and Pump are too naive to realise)#I went off topic there oops #I JUST REALISED THERE'S SO MUCH FANFIC AND FANART POTENTIAL THERE #CULTIST GREGOR WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN!!! /silly

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sundove88 · 3 days

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Project Link Up All Stars- The One Thing You Can’t Replace

Art by @kindabizarretbh

Victor Nefario (Shonen Jump Power Linkage, Linker of Frieza)- Narrating it

Michael DuPont (Mega Man Mega Linkage, Linker of Dr. Wily)- Mr. McNamara

Lucas Daybreak (Mega Man Mega Linkage, Linker of Zero)- Jake McNamara

Various other Linkers from other installments as the Party Guests

Rami Banjarski (Super Smash Bros Power Linkage, Linker of Donkey Kong)- Kid who broke pool table

Kokoda Masuko (Crayon Shin Chan Linkage of Mayhem, Linker of Shin Chan)- Kid who took a crap on the computer

Darren Wilkes (Mega Man Mega Linkage, Linker of Duo)- Chicago Police Officer

Jonathan Rue (Persona Linkage of Light and Dark, Linker of Ren Amamiya/Joker)- Alex

Note: Everyone here is drinking soda and stuff like that.

Another story I heard about myself, this one happened not that long ago. There was this guy at Rivet Bay Middle School whose nephew went to the city’s neighboring high school. His name was Michael DuPont and his nephew Lucas Daybreak went to that high school. He’s a freshman, while I’m a seventh grader. So he’s two years ahead of me.

And Mr. DuPont was a butthole, and one weekend, he and his wife decided to leave town, which you should never do, if you are a butthole. And Lucas decided to throw a party at his uncle’s house.

Hurray!

And everyone- us Linkers and their Partner Characters around our cities heard about it and we all got up individually and thought…

“Okay, let's go over there and destroy the place.”

I walked into this party. Everyone I had ever met was there and everyone was drinking soda like it was the end of the world. People were drinking soda like it was the Cybertronian War and Ratchet was coming to saw our legs off. It was totally unsupervised. We were like the Decepticons without Soundwave, we were running wild.

I walked down, I walked down to the basement. They had a pool table in the basement. One Linker took a running start and his Partner Character threw his body onto the pool table and broke it in half. Another Linker found out which room was Mr. DuPont’s and went upstairs and his Partner Character took a crap on his computer.

So the party was going great.

I'm standing in the basement, and I'm holding a red cup; you see in movies. And I'm standing there and I'm holding a red cup and I'm starting to black out and I guess someone said like something, something police and in a brilliant moment of word association, I yelled: f** Da Police! f** Da Police! And everyone else joined in. A 100 drunk white Linkers yelling “f** Da Police”. With the confidence of guys who have already been to jail and aren't afraid of it anymore, you know that like, I'll serve my nickel, you come and take me, confidence. But white children.

The reason someone had said something, something police was because the police were there. So Officer Darren Wilkes walked down the stairs and got to the bottom in the basement and looked out over a sea of drunk toddlers yelling; f** Da Police in his face, but he was almost impressed.

He was like wow, and then he leaned into his walkie-talkie and went, get the paddy wagon. And my friend Maximus, who is now a Linker, this man’s got a Partner Character in the form of Cell, he grabbed a Fanta, threw it on the ground, and yelled scatter.

And everyone ran into different directions. We all ran in different directions. It was like that scene in Ratatouille when the humans come in the kitchen and all the rats go in different ways. We all ran in different directions.

I ran into the laundry room and I jumped up on the washing machine and I crawled out through a window into the backyard and now I'm running through the backyard and there was this big chain link fence and I thought I've never climbed a fence that high before. And then I woke up at home.

On Monday, I went to school because that's what we always do. And I'm walking into the school building and who do I see but Lucas. And he says to me hey, were you at my party on Saturday and I said no, you know, like a liar. And he said things got really outta hand. Someone broke the pool table. Someone took a crap on my uncle’s computer.

But the worst thing, he says; the worst thing is that someone stole these old antique photos of my grandma and my aunt and uncle are freaking out about it. And I had that thought that only blackout drunks and Steve Urkel can have. Did I do that? I figured no. I wouldn't have done that.

But I was never sure, until after I became a Linker, relax. I'm playing video games with this kid named Jonathan that we also met on the internet with. Few weeks later, we’re Linkers by now. We're playing video games for a couple hours with our Partner Characters, and then Jonathan says to me, hey, come here I want to show you something and he takes me into his bedroom and then he takes me into a side room off of his bedroom. Never a good thing to have.

He shows me a tiny room that is covered wall to wall in stolen antique photos from different people's parties over the years. And I said why? Why do you do this? And Jonathan said, because it's the one thing you can't replace. That's the end of that story, but how screwed up is that right? That's crazy.

#incorrect quotes #source: John Mulaney #the one thing #the one thing you can’t replace #project link up #PLU #project link up all stars #PLU all stars #funny #Shonen jump power linkage #SJPL #mega man mega linkage #mmml #super smash bros power linkage #SSBPL #crayon shin Chan linkage of mayhem #csclom #persona linkage of light and dark #plol&d

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