#John price

[s-oaps]

CAPTAIN SAYS YEET

[squishycheekanon]

Slow burn but they are also fucking the whole time trope but it’s Price Got a little dark at the end, don’t at me.

Price taking things nice and slow, thrusting in and out at such an agonising, teasing pace. But it’s hard and rough, your face pressed against the bed while you sob into the sheets with every jolt of his hips against yours.

Price taking things slow as he rubs over your swollen little clit, grinning at the way you whine and tug at the cable tie restraining your hands and keeping them attached to the hook he so thoughtfully drilled into the wall.

Price taking things slow as he slips his thick fingers inside your throbbing cunt, watching in awe as your mouth opens the further he pushes in, searching for that sweet spot and groaning a “there it is.” When your back arches off the bed and your eyes roll back before fluttering close.

Price taking things slow when he gropes your tits and ass, trying to throw you off when you’re asking what type of man he is. Price is not an ass man. Price is not a tits man. Price is a hot, pulsing, slippery, dripping, pussy man.

Price taking things slow as he wines and dines you every single night, using that hard earned military money to buy you pretty things. Price who watches your cute eyes light up when he places his dog tags around your neck.

Price who will ‘wait’ as long as you need him to before he pops the question, knowing full well he already has a beautiful ring in a box tucked away in his sock drawer.

Price who knows, even if one day you say you don’t love him anymore, because he knows you do even if you refuse to say it, even if one day he has to wisk you away to some remote cabin far far away, there’s no way in hell he’s letting you go.

[dante-mightdie]

john price is the husband standing behind his wife whilst she looks through the clothing racks in shops, burly arms holding the pretty designer handbag he bought you with your little pomeranian poking its head out of the garment

he knows this dog is your baby. he has no qualms with this since he bought you the damn thing. payed for a matching hot pink bejewelled collar and leash, best pet insurance money can buy, and even spends a good chunk of change on some fancy raw diet for the think

just imagine this big burly bloke walking down the street at night with this tiny little pup trotting along beside him, deep gruff voice calling out what ever ridiculous name you chose for the thing. grumbled complaints about your spoiling them when the dog flat out refuses to walk back and makes your husband carry them all the way home

“good bloody walk that was”

rolls his eyes when he gets home and you immediately start fussing over your little baby, soft coos and high-pitched baby-talk as you take the dog from him with your perfectly-manicured nails. not even giving john any attention when he had also returned home

“happy wife, happy life…”

[cod-dump]

*after a mission went south*

Price: What the fuck happened out there??

Soap: I borrowed Kyle’s braincells and lost them

Price: What???

Gaz: He owes me braincells and I owe Ghost braincells

Ghost: Those weren’t even mine! I got them from Nik!

Price:

Soap: Can I borrow some braincells? I swear I’ll pay you back-

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

TF141 & sexy clothes

Gaz absolutely supports you wearing whatever you feel sexy in. however, in his heart of hearts, he believes the sexiest thing you can wear around him is your pjs, your ratty old tees, your sleep shirts, your big hoodies, your slouchy garbage clothes. he just wants to know you're comfortable. not to mention the idea of you letting him see you the way nobody else gets to... letting yourself be totally vulnerable around him... that lights up a certain (slightly needy) (slightly possessive) part of his brain. interesting how easily his hands can slide past the hem of your clothes when they're bigger and slouchier, too.

Ghost loves lingerie, though. like wrapping a present just for him. it's less about the lace (or the bows, or the straps, or the leather, whatever you prefer) and more about the time and attention you're expending to make yourself look all sexy. all this work? for him? even if his usual compulsion is to act aloof and pretend it's no big deal, he can't hide the greedy way his eyes devour you--for me? don't mind if i do. it's a toss-up whether he decides to unwrap you completely or just push his calloused hands into your lil outfit and muss you up until it's not covering anything anymore. or maybe he'll just leave the wrapping on so he can keep admiring all your hard work while he pumps into you.

Price says he loves you in lingerie, and he does. he doesn't tell you how fucking crazy you drive him when you're dressed for business. that might mean the clothes you wear into the office every day; it might mean fatigues; it might mean a particular uniform; it might be sportswear. he's big into seeing you focused and in your element--your competence is sexy--while also knowing there are so few layers he'd need to peel off before he could have you completely forgetting yourself if he wanted. and hey! if the lace at the top of your thigh-highs happens to be peeking out from under your pencil skirt, or if your ass fills out your uniform just right? that's just fine with him. you do you. (for now. he'll do you later.)

Soap's preferences are simple. he likes access. skirts. dresses. obviously, if he could convince you to be naked 100% of the time, he would. sundresses are pretty, though. so are your studded black skirts if you're gothy. or your sharp, practical, form-fitting pencil skirts if you're professional. you can even wear a kilt if you'd like. his kilt. he doesn't mind. (he only asks that you wear it as it's meant to be worn--without a thing underneath.) on days you do wear a dress or skirt, you're lucky to make it out of the house without him darting after you, pulling the hem up your thighs, and wondering aloud how you managed to find any undergarments at all; he'd swear he hid every last pair. he peels your underwear off--don't protest, hen; you know how this works--and after that, your chances of getting out the door are slim to none.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[ch1n1tahwrites]

Bimbo!reader :3

i think Price would be just absolutely smitten with a girl who would let him take care of her

it wasnt that you were dumb persay, just ditzy..

John Price who would literally kiss the ground you walk on

John Price who would pay every week for your fill ins

John Price who would accompany you to the doctors cuz

"You don' even know the difference in type a and b blood lass'"

John Price who would pick out the color of your nails

Jonathan "lass. yes i would love you if you were a worm" Price

John Price who would buy you rollers for you hair and help you achieve the 'blowout look'

"You know what i can blowout darl-"

"Shut up"

"Yes ma'am"

John Price who would crumble when you run your long french tips through his hair

John Price who would go with you to the mall to buy hello kitty stuff.

John Price who would sleep in the pink 'girly' bed filled with sanrio and sonic characters

John Price who would chuckle when you bump into things and say sorry

John Price who would kiss your boo boos.

John Price who would let you tie a bow around it

Captain "i can't fall in love" Price

Johnathan "i might marry her" Price

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost: You have friends and I envy that Y/N: You can share my friends Ghost: *looks at Johnny and Kyle* Ghost: I don't want those

[gothghostiie]

Snuggle pile with Poly141 X Reader. Just a fucking mound of buff military guys and their collective favorite person all cozy and sleeping on top of each other. Simon has a death grip on you bye

mmmm snuggle pile after a hard mission, price is at the very bottom. he wants all his babys snuggled up nice to him, arms wrapped around all of you.

soap is in the middle, right on top of price, he needs the attention and hes a petite little fucker teehee

gaz is left to price, burying his face into prices chest while playing with Soaps mohawk, his other arm snaked underneath prices neck so he can play with Ghosts hair

ghost lies on prices right, rubbing Gaz's side while keeping soap trapped under his arm

last but not least you - sprawled out over all of them. snuggling like a baby.

[temeyes]

hey you know how you’ve made Ghost, Soap and Gaz (sorta) belly posts?

Can we get a Price one next? 😼

ALSO I JUST WANNA SAY UR ART MAKES MY SKULL SO ITCHY IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE I LOVE IT SM ‼️‼️

poor captain was a little hesitant, but here ya go!

[midnightarcheress]

another casino thingy with john price, bc why not?

cw: nsfw. masturbation, fingering, implicit exhibitionist price?, f!reader. idk shit about poker. part one | part two

you go to the casino again. not to gamble though.

at first, you were reluctant on showing up. it was nice of John to give you money for your services that night, and you couldn't deny the instant attraction lingering on your brain, but you didn't want to feel like a token, a four-leaved clover he picked out of the grass. also, you were convinced that your luck was a one-time thing, so why bother trying again? he surely found another charm to put in his pocket by now. 

however, those thoughts vanished from your mind when you heard a sharp knock on your door. 

you look through the peephole and immediately recognize the person standing in your hallway – mohawk guy. how did he...? your first instinct is to ignore him, but curiosity wins the fight against logic and you open the door.

"hello, bonnie." he smiles, "Price's waiting for ye," he blurts out before you can even ask anything. he's waiting?

for a minute, you don't think. your body moves on auto-pilot, scouring your closet for a decent outfit and smoothing down your hair to look at least presentable, as a stranger – Johnny, you learned – paces in your living room. 

the next thing you know, you're in the passenger seat of his car, one hand resting on your leg and thumb edging the hem of your skirt, driving downtown. you couldn't help but shudder at the tingling sensation of his fingers on your skin, and he just snorts at your reaction, amused. are they all this touchy?

thankfully for you, Johnny is a talker, so you don't have to do much work to pass the time. he tells you that John is actually the owner of the casino and that every friday night he hosts a poker game with some of his friends. that he and the boys – Simon and Kyle – help Price with the management and with making sure no one creates trouble, and that John hasn't stopped talking about you.

your eyes widen after his last words, earning a chuckle out of the scot and nearly making you forget the question that first popped into your head when you saw him at your door – how in the hell did he know where i live? but at this point, you're not sure you care. 

the light squeeze on your thigh alerts you that you've arrived, hopping out of the car and walking inside. the place is as packed as ever, but he leads you directly to the back, the same door as before. 

"there she is." John grins, already tapping his lap for you to sit, "now we can start." this time, you don't hesitate, happily obliging to his request even when a part of you cringes at your eagerness. you accept the glass of bourbon, neat, that Kyle hands you, and despite being too strong for your liking, you don't bother. probably tastes like John.

the first few rounds were tame, with low bets, but soon enough you see the flying 5000 chips landing on the table and hear the laughs getting louder, as he traces circles on your hip. you don't know if it's the alcohol coursing in your veins, the softness of his touch, or his hot breath on your ear, but warmth starts pooling in your stomach and your legs clump together to ease the tension.

John notices your squirms and devilishly smirks, enjoying your desperate attempts to forgo the desire building in you. "here, kiss it for good luck, Ace." Ace? his left-hand holds a chip up, as the right one sneaks between your thighs and pry them apart again, making you gasp. 

you timidly lean forward to press a quick kiss on the chip and instantly feel the heat creeping up your cheeks when his hand reaches your underwear. "you're so wet, Ace," he whispers, pulling your damp pants to the side. god, what is he... oh.

you try your best to be calm, not let the sensation of his fingers grazing your folds cloud your mind, but it's too much. your head tips back onto his shoulder, and any word that threatens to come out of your mouth and stop him gets caught in your throat. there's people around. everyone can see how much of a mess you are. and they... don't care?

his thumb gently rubs your clit as his middle finger toy with your entrance in an agonizingly slow manner, soft sighs escaping your mouth and eyes embarrassingly glossy focusing on the table. the game is still going, there's at least eight other men in this room, counting the players and the boys, fuck i'm– you bite back moans, gripping his forearm to keep him in place and to stop yourself from writhing in his lap. 

"easy, love," he murmurs, finally pumping his digit inside you, "such a greedy cunt." his tone is low, syrupy, dripping like honey over you and nearly making you cum at the sound of his voice. you nuzzle your face on his neck, muffling your whimpers and drowning in the scent of his cologne. "what's keepin' me from throwin' you on top of this table and takin' you right now, hm?"

"John–" you breathe out, coil on your belly tightening when he inserts another finger, hitting the spongy spot you were never quite able to reach, making you mewl with pleasure. his beard brushes on your neck and his warm lips trace your jaw, leaving an underlying burning on your skin that drops straight to your core. 

through half-lidded eyes you see the dealer finishing distributing the cards and the subtle twitch in John's mouth when he glances at his hand. your mind is too far gone by the point when they place the bets, too lost in the feeling of his frantic thrusts, velvety walls instinctively clenching around him to enhance the bliss.

the knot inside of you snaps and you cry out, limbs trembling in his hold and pure electricity travelling under your surface; it's intense, ripples through your core, heavenly overstimulating every corner of your body and sending your mind to outer space. 

you float back to earth and taste the metallic flavor in your mouth, bottom lip sore from biting too hard to prevent your screams. John nudges you back to reality with a kiss on your temple, "such a good girl, love." he flaunts his cards in front of your eyes, and after a few attempts to refocus your vision, he gloats, wide smile and lustful eyes directed only at you, "just won me thirty grand, Ace."

i'd love to write more of this casino universe but i'm very much lacking in the ideas department lol

[gomzdrawfr]

good morning

[cntloup]

Fem!Reader

Price saves you from some creeps

Simon's version

thinking about Price taking you on a drive after he picks you up from some shady bar to keep your mind off the creeps.

when you called him in a panic, uncontrollable sobs and hiccups escaping you while you tried to explain what happened, he felt his blood boil with pure rage.

"I'm on my way, sweetheart." he said to you and he was there in about 10 minutes, then found your shaking figure hiding in the bathroom.

"Shh, baby. It's ok. You're safe now. I'm here." he coos softly in your ear while holding your trembling body in his arms.

he calls the lads to get in there and teach them a lesson while he takes care of you.

he'd be more than happy to do it himself, knocking their asses off for daring to touch his princess.

but he needs to take care of you. you're his priority. he has to take you away from there asap.

"Are you ok? Did they hurt you?" he asks, "I-I'm f-fine... I got in here to hide as quickly as I could." you respond through sobs and gasps for air.

"Good girl." he praises and kisses your forehead before placing a hand on your back to guide you to his car.

he takes you to your favorite places after roaming around the city for a while, "I'll take care of it, baby. Don't you worry about it one bit." he promises, his hand gently caressing your thigh, his touch warm and comforting.

he tells you funny stories and sings along to some old tunes and plays your favorite songs to distract you.

and when that gorgeous smile of yours finally returns, painting your beautiful face, he smiles proudly and reaches over to gently trace his fingers along your chin and jawbone, cooing softly "There's my girl!"

[dante-mightdie]

currently thinking about the moment the boys all collectively realise that you are the captain’s favourite

the boonie hat. it sounds silly but john is very protective about that hat in the sense that he doesn’t allow a single soul to touch it. one time ghost misplaced it and got an earful for weeks about how he had to get a new one and it didn’t feel the same as his old one

during the third week of this earache, ghost made the silly mistake of saying, ‘it’s jus’ a bloody hat, captain.’ price spent the rest of the week being a petty bastard

people used up all of simon’s earl grey? it’s just tea, lieutenant. lost one of his favourite knives on a mission? just a weapon, simon. simon learned never to touch that bloody hat ever again

or that time when gaz dared soap so swipe the hat from his head and bolt down the hallway whilst price was in the middle of an important conversation with laswell. once john caught up with him he was rewarded with 6 weeks of cleaning duty and getting his ass absolutely handed to him in front of the new recruits

gaz filmed the whole thing and showed it to everyone, earning 6 weeks of scrubbing floors on his knees right next to johnny

but when you have a bit too much to drink at whatever shithole bare they were drinking in and drag your captain on to the dance floor? he smiles and they think you’re about to be sent to an early grave

the sounds of roxette coming from the old jukebox send your body into a routine of seductive swaying. all eyes are on you especially when you reach up to grab his boonie hat from his head before placing it on your own

tipsy giggles leave your throat as you dance, taking the tumbler of scotch from his hand and taking a sip. tilting your head and biting your lip as you look at him

you’re laughing death in the face, the boys think. the captain is about to wipe that smirk off of your face and make you ever regret touching his beloved hat. you’re about to learn the painful lesson they all endured

or so they thought. john doesn’t do anything except stand there, arms folded over his chest in the middle of the room as he watches you with pure amusement, “better give that back, trouble…”

“or what, cap’n?” you giggle out, taking another sip of his drink. he takes a few steps forward before pulling you against his chest, his cheeks pulling up into a smile

“or i’ll take it from ya.” he chuckles, taking a hand up to pull the hat down over your eyes as he locks his arms around your waist, swaying you to the music

just a few feet away, the boys still sit at their booth. slouched in the booth with cross pours written across their faces,

“well, I guess it’s obvious who the favourite is.” johnny grumbles out as the other nod along in agreement

[cod-dump]

Makarov: If you're pretending to remain unconcerned for my peace of mind, please don't.

Price: It amuses me that you think I would even give a shit about your peace of mind.

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Grocery Shopping with Price

My blog is predominantly 18+ minors DNI

No warnings but there are mentions of food, reader is able to have periods, but otherwise blank slate. 632~ Words Lynx is the UK brand name for Axe body spray

Price just likes letting you take control in these scenarios.

Yes, he’s happy to meal plan and list build with you, he loves that aspect, it’s very on-brand for him. But when it comes to strolling through the aisles, picking things out off the shelves, he leaves the control to you.

You send him off to retrieve things from across the store and he comes back with exactly what you ask for without fail.

Sometimes he’ll remember other things from the list on the way, piling up impossibly large amounts of produce and dry goods in his muscular arms. He even hid a jar of your favourite night-cream under his boonie hat that one time that had you crying with laughter.

Today you’re in the fresh produce aisle, poking and prodding, groping and grabbing at different fruits and veggies to determine ripeness and freshness. You’re cramping like mad, and you’ve sent John off to get the majority of the shop as you hobble around, clutching at the trolley for dear life.

You’re two days into one of the worst periods of your adult life, and already wishing you’d just got John to do the shop so you could stay home cradling a hot water bottle. You’re minding your own business as a shadow looms over your shoulder.

“Need a hand there, pet?” An unfamiliar grunt makes you pause as you slowly turn to look up to address the source of the intrusion.

The man is your typical sleazy gym bro with gelled hair and a smirk that you guess is permanently etched on his smug mouth. The overwhelming stench of Lynx Africa rolling off him in waves. You crinkle your nose at the offensive odour, reminding you of high school locker rooms and pubescent boys.

“I’m good, thanks,” you say, immediately turning back to your trolley, hoping to move on, even if you hadn’t got what you were looking for.

Deescalate.

You can almost hear John’s voice in your head as you feel the dude-bro shadowing your hasty retreat.

“Aw,” he groans, practically jogging to catch up to you, “Don’t be like that, what’s your hurry?”

“I’m here to shop, not get hit on by some dickhead with an ego,” you snap, letting your hormonal rage seep out as the guy just doesn’t take the hint.

“Woah, no need to be a bitch,” the fuck-head says with wild gesticulation of his hands, “You on the rag love?”

You’re about to snip back at him when your trolley collides with something solid. You groan and are about to spool up a profanity ridden apology when you hear a familiar growl.

“So what if she is?” John snarls as you look up to see his arms laden with what seems like every item on the list as he glowers at the douchebag at your elbow.

“Whatever man,” he scoffs at John as he holds his hands up in cocky compliance, “Have the bitter bitch.”

“You watch your mouth,” John says as he meticulously stacks the produce in the trolley, not once taking his stormy blue eyes off the other man, “Or we’re going to have a problem.”

“John,” you intercede, already over this whole dick waving competition, even if you do love it when he gets like this, “Let’s just get home, yeah?”

“Whatever you need,” he says as he finishes loading up the trolley. You finish the shop quickly, with John insisting he drives you home and gets you tucked up in bed as soon as possible.

It’s not until he takes off his hat while unloading the groceries that he realises he still had a bag of your favourite sweets stuck under his boonie hat. He makes a mental note to go back tomorrow and pay for them.

CoD Masterlist Grocery Shopping with Gaz Grocery Shopping with Ghost Grocery Shopping with Soap Grocery Shopping with König