adrunkskeletonsduck - Tumblr blog

adrunkskeletonsduck · 10 months

Note

I am dying for some dad! Price fics and I can barely find any☹️ I just know he’d be the sweetest with his kids!!!

Dad!Price x reader

He literally would be :(( (id know bc im acc his daughter) anyway you've come to the right place bc I'm obsessed with dad price.

Mini Series Masterlist

It’s the first day back to school for his daughter after her break, and Prices third day back from deployment. Getting her up in the morning and out of bed for school had been a struggle, as she’d insisted on staying home and spending the day with her father. As much as Price loved that idea you’d told her it couldn’t happen today, he could already see this tantrum boiling up and quickly promised her they’d have a daddy daughter day that weekend. That seemed to calm her down and she’d dragged herself out of bed, still with much protest, scarfed down the breakfast Price had made her and got ready for school.

Price relished in the domicity of the situation. The idea of struggling with his wife to get their daughter out of bed was something he never thought he’d have considering his line of work and yet there he stood, flipping smiley face pancakes and yelling “Listen to your mother little lady” across the house at his daughter. It was the perfect contrast to the adrenaline pumping action that he experienced on a day-to-day basis.

15 minutes later and much struggling from your end his daughter stood in front of the mirror whining as you tried to do her hair.

“I want daddy to do my hair!” she whined, pulling her head away from you. You sighed

“Daddy’s busy cleaning up after breakfast,” you tried to tell her for the millionth time. She was having none of it, crossing her arms across her chest and jutting out her bottom lip in a pout.

“No!” she protested to the sitaution as a whole. You threw your hands up in the air, muttering something she didn’t catch under your breath and exiting the bathroom. Price was leaned over the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he scrubbed at a pan.

“John can you go do her hair?” you asked tiredly, leaning against the island, “she wont let me do it, she wants you to,” you explained. He looked up from his work with a chuckle. Grabbing the towel from where it was hanging next to him he nodded, drying his hands.

“Yeah,” he agreed, with another chuckle “I can do her hair.” Price marches into the bathroom, looking down at his little girl pointedly, hands on his hips as she looks up at him. “You been giving your mother trouble little lady?” He asks in a semi-stern tone. Even though he was attempting to scold her his words had a soft and playful undertone to them. How could he ever truly be mad at his little girl?

Quickly she shakes her head, but when he raises an eyebrow at her it changes to a nod.

Price steps behind her, getting to work on making two cute buns at the top of her head, combing back her hair, parting it and twisting it. That’s ‘his’ hairstyle as she calls it, and she never lets you do it on her, so it’s a safe bet.

“I told you to listen to mom this morning, didn’t I?” he asks, running a comb through her hair.

“Yeah...” she confirms, her tone turning to a mumble as she says a quiet “Sorry...” watching through the mirror as he takes a bunch of her hair and twists it into a little bun at the top of her head. Price ties it in place with a hair tie, starting on the other side

“Don't apologize to me honey, apologize to mom, okay?”he looks at her through their reflections and she nods. He ties the second bun, pushing some pins into it before clasping her shoulders, “All done,” he smiles, and she grins at her reflection for a second, before turning to hug his legs tightly.

“Thank you, daddy!” she squeals looking up at him with a bright smile. He engraved the site into his mind, the moment is to fleeting in his opinion as she turns and runs out of the bathroom to find you and go to school. He watches her run off, bitter thoughts dulling his joy. He couldn’t believe he’d have to leave all this behind in just a couple of weeks.

#urmomschocolatemilk #modern warfare 2 #x reader #call of duty #john price x you #captain john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you #141 x reader

26 notes · View notes

adrunkskeletonsduck · 10 months

Text

yandere!miguel who interrupts your reading session by nudging his head in between your legs. he purrs, a low rumbling sound in his throat as his disheveled hair falls over his eyes. he looks up at you, an almost pleading look.

“are you done yet?” he drawls slowly, both hands coming up to grasp your waist and thighs, thumbs rubbing tiny circles in your soft flesh. he inhales your scent, feeling his fangs begin to poke out from his lips.

you shake your head, “not yet…” and miguel only huffs at your statement. he nudges his head farther in between your legs, his tongue slipping out to lazily swipe at the insides of your thighs. his breath ghosts over your covered sex, and he groans.

miguel growls when you try to pull away, or shuffle into a position that pushes his head away from your lap, his claws gently poking your skin as a warning. he lays his head back down on your lap and closes his eyes with a sigh.

he really does love you.

#screaming n crying bc i need him

1K notes · View notes

adrunkskeletonsduck · 10 months

Text

black tie affair

He slowly comes up behind you, hands stretched out in front of him, wordless. He grasps your waist firmly, holding you in place as his other hand brushes up against your lower back. You shiver under his touch, body still, unmoving. He was so close. So close.

"oh nooooo the zipper on my dress is stuck, what ever will i do? who would ever help meee?"

zipper is stuck trope. with ghost. lol bye.

also, don’t mind me making stuff up for this fic. don't think too hard about it. let's just pretend!

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

Tonight was the Special Forces Military Ball. It was a once-a-year event that everyone on the task force looked forward to as an opportunity to unwind from work. A night of speeches, dancing, and drinking was highly awaited.

You were in a hotel room, finishing applying your makeup in the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. The lighting was horrendous, but you persevered. You gently brush on the last touches of your eyeshadow, blinking a few times at your reflection in the mirror. You tilt your face side to side, inspecting every inch of your makeup before pulling back, smiling contentedly at your work. It’s been a while since you last wore this much makeup. A quick sigh escapes your lips as you turn out of the bathroom and into the main room.

A long, black dress lays across the hotel bed. The dress swishes gently across the floor as you pick it up from the bed and hold it up in front of you in front of the floor length mirror. The sweetheart neckline swoops gracefully, the thick straps of the dress covered adorned with small silver gems. The skirt of the dress hugs all of your curves in the right places, accentuating your features.

You start to slip on the dress, pulling it up and around your body, then pulling the sleeves over to rest on your shoulders. Reaching around your back, your hands come up as you fumble around with the zipper, only pulling it up an inch before it stops.

You try pulling it as hard as you can to no avail. Messing with the zipper a few more times does absolutely nothing, the continuous motion of pulling it up and down useless in aiding you. The zipper rests, stuck, on your lower back.

“Fuck” you groan, annoyed with the stubborn zipper.

You angle your back towards the mirror and stare at it, mostly bare, with a frown. Someone was going to have to help you with this.

Everyone, with the exception of one person, was busy preparing for the event as you racked your brain about who you could call.

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

The big guy.

You grab your phone and scroll through your contacts before your finger lands on his name. You hesitate for a moment, almost already regretting this. Next thing you know, you bring the phone up to your ear, biting your lip as it rings. The phone rings once, twice, then you hear the line pick up.

“Hello?” the low timbre of his voice echoes from the phone.

You inhale dramatically, and turn to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Hi,” you sigh.

The silence from the other end is overbearing. You grimace a little.

You speak quickly, “So uh, I need some help.” You hold your breath as you wait for a response, any response from him.

You hear some shuffling around, and a small cough. You roll your eyes once more.

“Please,” you strain.

He hesitates for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“This is awkward, but uh, the zipper on my dress is stuck, and you’re the only person I could think of to call and I totally get it if you can’t help me–”

“Which room is yours?” he cuts you off briskly. The shuffling in the background abruptly stopped.

Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, shaking your head as you try to answer.

“Oh, yeah, it’s room 456, fourth floor…” you trail off.

He hangs up without a word. You bring the phone away from your ear slowly and stare at yourself in the mirror once more.

He really is a man of few words.

You pace the room a few times, waiting for him when a single, brief knock raps your door. You stop in your tracks and turn to the door, then run to the mirror to make sure you look presentable enough. You look through the peekhole just to make sure its Ghost before you pull open the door swiftly.

You’re met with his chest in your face, and you drag your eyes upward to his face. His covered face. In that skull mask he always wears. He’s wearing a black tuxedo along with a crooked black tie.

“Hi” he says simply, raking his eyes down your form.

You immediately grab his bicep and pull him into the room and shut the door behind you, pressing your exposed back to the door. He chuckles quietly at you, raising his eyebrows in amusement under his mask.

“Thank you so much for coming” you breathe out, wringing your hands together.

He just stares at you for a moment longer, taking in your appearance unabashedly. He shoves his hands in his pocket and clears his throat.

“Wow. You look amazing” he whistles.

Your cheeks heat up, your mouth slightly agape as the air leaves your lungs.

“Thank you.”

Your dress swishes around your feet as you push yourself off the door, brushing past him. “I could say the same for you, Simon.”

Turning around, you brush a piece of stray hair behind your ear, taking a deep breath. He takes a few heavy steps towards you, his silence overbearing.

“If you could zip me up, that would be great” you smile gently at him, biting your bottom lip awkwardly. You turn around, your exposed back facing Ghost, and you pull your hair over your shoulder. His breath wavers, eyes roaming the expanse of your back, then finally coming to rest on the small of your back. He slowly comes up behind you, hands stretched out in front of him, wordless. He grasps your waist firmly, holding you in place as his other hand brushes up against your lower back. You shiver under his touch, body still, unmoving. He was so close. So close. His free hand closes around the zipper, hesitant to free it.

“Ghost–”

“It’s Simon. Simon, when we’re not on job,” he corrects. You stand up straight.

“Simon. Are you going to zip me up?”

He grunts quietly, then pulls at the zipper once, twice, before it's finally freed. You can feel heat radiating from his fingers as he pulls the zipper up agonizingly slow. As he pulls it up your back, his fingers brush against your skin, the small touches making your knees weak. Your cheeks feel hot from his languid movements. You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he zipped it up to the top.

The trance you were in abruptly stops as you hear the small click of the zipper hitting the top. You swiftly turn around, the skirt of your dress bustling around as you take a step back, his hand falling from your hip.

“Well, thank you Gh– Simon” you say, pushing your hair back to its original place. You rock back on your heels as you inspect his covered face.

His eyes look blown wide, his hands now pulling at the bottom of his tux jacket.

“‘s not a problem” he murmurs, eyes still not looking away from you. His hands wander up to his loosened tie, fidgeting with it.

You notice his tie isn’t properly tied, and you take a few steps close to him, your eyes staring straight at his chest.

“Let me help you with that” you point to his tie. You take his hands in yours and gently pull them to his sides. His hands dwarf your own, and you drop them. His breath hitches.

You wrestle with the tie, your hands brushing up against his chest and collarbone as you twist it into perfection. You keep your eyes trained on the tie, biting your lip as you concentrate. Simon’s eyes remain locked on you, following your every movement.

The silence permeates the air, save for the rustling of fabric against fabric.

You finish tying the knot, and pull it up tight to rest against the base of his throat. He stretches his neck upwards as your hands come to fasten the tie in place. You smooth your hands on the edge of his jacket, straightening out any remaining wrinkles. Your head tilts upwards, smiling softly at him.

“There” you sigh contentedly, patting his cheek gently before pulling away.

Before you could fully remove yourself, his hand snakes down to your waist, pulling you up against his body. A small squeak slips out of you as his hands rigidly hold your waist.

“Simon–”

“Stop talking.”

Before you could even process his movements, he yanks his mask over his nose. Your breath catches in your lungs as your eyes trail the features of his lower face. His breath is hot on your face as he leans down, closer and closer. “Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, eyelashes fluttering as he stares at your lips, noses bumping into each other. He’s only an inch or two away from your face, and you can see every lineament of his skin, his cheekbones, the tip of his pointed nose, his lips. He smells like sandalwood and vetiver, the scent peppery and strong.

You nod your head fervently, heart racing in your chest.

“Please.”

That’s all he had to hear you say.

Simon leans in, closing the miniscule gap between you two. He leans down to press a firm kiss on your lips, inhaling sharply at the contact, eliciting a soft sound from you. Your hands wrap around his neck, tugging him down to your height as his hands roam up and down your back. Simon draws your body against his, pulling you flush against him. He begins to nip your bottom lip, tongue swiping over your lip as if to ask permission. You let him take charge, his hand gliding up your body, your breath growing ragged.

He bites your lip, slowly pulling away as he breaks contact. You gulp in the cool air of the room, studying his face as he slowly pulls his mask down in place. Your ears are red, face flushed.

“You’re beautiful,” his voice comes out hoarse as he takes your hand in his. He rubs his thumb in circles around your palm, outlining your face.

“Thank you” you whisper, taking his hand into your own.

You gingerly pull him out of your room, and don’t let go of his hand for the rest of the night.

2K notes · View notes

adrunkskeletonsduck · 10 months

Text

Is anyone else pleasantly surprised at the sheer amount of black, latino and other poc!reader fics that have come out of the ATSV fandom? Like it’s normally so rare to find fanfics with a poc or a dark/brown skinned reader in mind but seeing so many different people integrate their culture and background into their work is genuinely heartwarming

6K notes · View notes

adrunkskeletonsduck · 10 months

Note

Yes yes and YES

bro ik simon buys his daughter some silly ass shit on missions😭 like he will buy her a mug ( a mug, FOR A BABY. ) titled: "worlds best daughter and dad duo" .. wont even let the reader hold their kid as long as hes some n shit.. just pls dad!simon hcs PLS

you ask and you shall receive anon. here are the current thoughts swooshing around in my messy brain right now. 🪄

my god definitely tho.

He’s the definition of girldad. To a T. Like, when she’s younger and he’s still new to the whole thing it’s all scary but once he’s past that and realises it’s literally just a tiny person. It’s over for everyone around him.

That little girl is worth crushing skulls for fr.

Waking up in the middle of the night to baby cries was something he took in stride. The first few times definitely scared the shit out of him and he wanted to wake you up. But then again, realising that it was just a tiny person. He would get up and probably fall asleep on the sofa with her instead of taking her back to the cot.

Not that he would admit it but he felt way more relaxed with her sleeping on his chest.

Shirtless.

SKIN. TO. SKIN.

When she gets older, she starts asking questions about him and his job and all the ‘why’ follow ups. We’re talking ages 7-9 here.

“Why wear skull stuff if you’re called Ghost?”

“It’s a callsign.”

“What’s a callsign?”

“A nickname.”

“Why?”

Literally his mini-me though. She follows him everywhere. All around the house, upstairs downstairs, outside inside. EVERYWHERE. He never grows tired of it though. Always entertaining the questions.

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes. I have a name.”

Then telling her it and she goes onto call him Simon for three days straight before moving onto another source of entertainment.

She draws pictures of 141. Penning a little version of herself in the middle of the men, a big arrow pointing to each of them labelled by their names spelt wrong. Sop. Pris.

Soap draws pictures back stfu.

Definitely the type of relationship with his daughter where they’re close until she becomes interested in boys and her dad is suddenly embarrassing lmaoooo.

Johnny is actually the embarrassing uncle.

Her first boyfriend my days.

I know by this point, he has another daughter. No one can convince me otherwise. He has a minimum of two.

“She’s gonna see her boyfriend.” The younger one would sing and Simon is right onto that shit. Dad stance n’ all.

“What age is he?” First question.

“Dad.”

LeaveTheDoorOpen™️

His kids don’t actually know what he works as. It’s like, no one knows exactly what their dad does. SAS shit or smth.

For forms, he just waves a hand of dismissal and is like, “Just say i’m in the army.”

“Are you in the army?”

“No.” this mf

Having two daughters definitely be teaching him a lot. Like periods. He never took them seriously until he was being barked at for the seventeenth time in one day, deciding in that moment to understand.

Also the designated bag holder and credit card user on shopping trips.

Dilf.

this is short but i’m writing a huge smut for him rn don’t tell anyone. you. yes, you.

taglist? shout at me in the comments to be added.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost mw2 #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader

3K notes · View notes

adrunkskeletonsduck · 10 months

Text

Dad!Price

hes my self proclaimed father, also this is gonna be a new mini series, so send in dad!price headcanons 🙏

Price cherishes such peaceful mornings like this, they're something he lacks when out on deployment. The sun is shinning and the birds are chirping. The cold winter air nipping at the exposed skin of his face and hands. The leaves of nearby trees rustle with a slight breeze that does nothing to help with the cold. He enjoys these mornings.

Even when (Especially when) he’s half asleep being dragged to the park by his seven-year-old daughter at eight in the morning, he cherishes these mornings.

She'd woken him up early, excited that he was back home after such a long time, and begged him to take him to the park. "Please, please, please!" she'd said, looking up at him with adorable puppy eyes she knew he couldn't resist as he slid her plate of breakfast infront of her. And despite the fact that he could barely keep his eyes all the way open, he still agreed to take her.

Now she skips happily in front of him, babbling about everything and anything that’s happened to you and her over the few months he was out. He nods and hums, giving her his best exaggerated reactions when needed, his heart warming with every step as he looked down at her with a soft smile.

When they finally get there, she's ready to run off and play but he stops her, leaning down to adjust her coat and hat, making sure she's protected from the cold winter air. "Be careful," he warns her, giving her a semi stern look. She just giggles, and runs off onto the play structure to join the few other kids out this early, wooing and grinning as she goes, going down the slides and kicking up sand.

He sits down on a bench, watching her play what looks like pirates with two other boys. Smiling as he watches her boss them around, pulling her imaginary sword on them when they complain, and threatening to kick them off "her ship". He makes sure to ingrain the scene into his memory.

Then when the two boys leave, telling her they'd see her tomorrow and waving at her with bright smiles. She waves back, running over to Price once again with a new plan of mischief.

"Dad come here!" she grins, running up to him and taking his hand. "Push me on the swings!" she begs him, dragging the man who's ten times her height on the sand behind her. He chuckles letting her drag him over.

Morale of the story he'd do anything to see his little girl happy.

#urmomschocolatemilk #call of duty #x reader #141 x reader #modern warfare 2 #captain price #price x reader #john price #task force 141 #dad!price #john price x you #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x you

211 notes · View notes

adrunkskeletonsduck · 11 months

Text

A master piece

Being Miguel’s legitimate daughter that he left behind and hosting Venom [FEM]

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: cringe writing, angst

—

[Unedited]

“How dare he?”

You ignored the symbiote raging in your head as you watched your father Miguel finish the battle with the Green Goblin variant. Binding him with glowing red organic webs and aligning him up and over his shoulder.

“How dare he return here?!”

“Venom,” you trailed exasperated. Obviously you weren’t happy at all to Miguel either but he hadn’t even seen you yet so what does it matter? Originally you and Venom had fully intended to take down Goblin and inform Peter B. Parker there was a variant in your dimension. (Don’t ask how you know him).

But then Miguel showed up instead, and honestly you should’ve expected that he would because he was the one who led the spider society. And he was among the first to know of any anomalies or unusual readings in any dimension.

And only Jessica and Lyla were a witness to the internal conflict inside him at the prospect of going to his daughter’s dimension. The daughter he abandoned in favor of a different one, a different daughter, a different universe… a different life.

He was absolutely certain that you hated him and you did, you held such bitterly angry and maliciously hateful feelings for him for such a long time. When you were young all you felt was confusion for his disappearance, but as you grew older and as time passed those feelings turned from rage at his betrayal… to utter heartbreak and despair at his departure.

For the longest time you’d believed that you’d done something wrong, because what had tog done that was so bad? What had you done that was so wrong? You didn’t mean to.. whatever it was you didn’t mean to.

Eventually you had come to learn that this was not a fault of yours, but of Miguel’s. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong, and you didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.

So you grew in the suffocatingly isolating darkness that was hate and grief. And as time passed you built walls thick and tall surrounding yourself, barbed defenses to protect your broken and vulnerable pieces. Behind those steeled doors you also tucked away the last part of your inner child, to keep her safe and protected.. from ever feeling this abandonment again.

When you were fourteen you’d found Venom, and at the time you had been living on the streets for close to two years. At fourteen is when you had very nearly quit on life, being alive was pain.. constant hurt that was very close to swallowing you whole.

Venom had stopped you, not because they had talked you out of it but more so because you were intrigued by the way they had glided across the ground. Even more so interested by the way the deep onyx goop slid up your hand before sinking into your body.

And you’ve been together ever since, the constant babble of the alien grated your nerves slightly but other than that you’d grown to love having them attached to you. And you wouldn’t change it for anything—

“[Y/Name]?”

You froze, previously having turned away from the scene of Miguel opening a glowing golden portal on the street below your perch to make a swift exit. But his voice had stopped you, and you’re not sure why you had even bothered to halt in your tracks.

“Wonderful,” you spat with toxin, “you remember my name.”

Miguel shouldn’t have been taken aback by your response, and he shouldn’t have been thrown off by your bite. He didn’t deserve to feel confused as to why you had responded to him so aggressively— because he knew why you had.

“Of course I do, I gave it to you.”

“Right,” you replied boredly before you were moving forward intent to leave the conversation there.

“[Y/Name]!” He called, and again you shouldn’t have given him even a second of your time but your broken and guarded heart longing for answers seemed to work your feet for you.

“[Y/Name], keep moving. Or I will. He does not deserve your time. He does not deserve you.”

“Did you ever wonder if I had even survived after you left? Did it ever cross your mind even once if I was still alive?”

“I checked on you regularly.”

“I see, the technology to travel through the multiverse also grants you the ability to peer into the lives of people you have ruined.”

You still hadn’t turned around, refusing to give him any sort of indication that you had actually cared about whatever it was he had to say.

“Look, I-I know that I’ve screwed up. I know that I hurt you—”

“Hurt me?” You chuckled humorlessly, a hitch of pain in your throat and fire on your tongue. “Hurt. Me? You may have before.. but you’ll never hurt me again.”

Venom had come through on the last word, enunciating the end of the sentence with a snarl. Ferocious and purely built from the pure emotional pain they could feel coming from their host.

Miguel subtly flinched at the deep growl in your tone, not enough for you to see but enough of a twitch that your heightened senses had picked up on it.

And you chose that moment to make your escape, stepping forward and utilizing Venom to vanish within the pitch black abyss of the shadows. The added darkness provided by the night sky and waning pale moonlight casting deeper shadows aiding Venom in helping you disappear entirely.

“[Y/Name] wait!—” Miguel reached out expecting to touch flesh but was met with nothing.

He stepped back, looked left then right then both directions once more before he exhaled tiredly and leapt back down to the road below. He lifted the Goblin and threw him in before jumping in himself, the portal closing behind him leaving the desolate street in utter darkness once again.

You had watched, this time from the gargoyle statue attached to the side of the roof’s lip on the building above. Venom formed off your shoulder, their head with white eyes and a mouthful of razor sharp teeth complimented well by the black ink of their exterior. And their head stretched off your shoulder by several tendons and tendrils still attached to your body.

You met his blank, milky white stare as he spoke.

“He will return. Whether he wishes to talk or— something more.. what will you do?”

“I made my feelings clear, if he returns. If I see him in my universe again. We. Kill. him.”

You watched as Venom’s grin grew exponentially at your sinister promise. The ominous threat on Miguel’s life exciting him after all the years of trauma and pain he had inflicted upon their host Venom wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth in and never let go.

And if granted the opportunity he would seize it with little to zero hesitation.

Every Spider-Man needs a nemesis, no emotionally richer story than having that nemesis be your own daughter.

“You are sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’ve grown cold. Sinister.”

“I am what he made me.”

—

a/n: I’m a little stoned and had this abrupt idea— 🫢 this is weak and maybe a lil’ cringe.. I know that, I’ll make it legit when I’m not baked 😐👍🏽

2K notes · View notes