#price x you

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 11)

first chapter >> last chapter

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Your heart could very well have stopped beating and you’d be none the wiser.

By now, you’ve experienced fear in all its varietals. The stomach churning and the latent, the languid; the swift moving silverfish slipping out of your grasp. The monstrous rising beast of it the day you turned around to find the master of the house turning the lock on the door and trapping you in with him. Then the delayed panic in the aftermath of bringing the bust down over his head and hearing his skull crack under its weight, the blood pooling around his body, almost aureole-like. Pondering the miraculous like, well, isn’t that just the devil of it. A halo for a man intent on your ruin.

 The fear washing over you now is entirely new though. Like a rapid exhalation. Of course you were right all along . Right to expect the devil showing up on your doorstep. The weeks of silence had imbued you with a sense of confidence. An arrogant, undeserved confidence that whispered in your ear to let your guard down. 

But you know now that the world is not large enough to hide in. It is a wasteland of false prophets and false directions. There are no second chances.

The only consolation is the silence from the man behind the counter as he studies the warrant. You imagine him standing there giving it a good once over, his face maybe scrunching up as it calls to mind the woman that just walked through his door. You wonder if they thought to add a sketch of your likeness, whether there’ll be a woman on the warrant that looks an awful lot like you. 

You stay put behind the shelf though, not risking so much as a peep. 

“Any information you might have would be much obliged,” Graves says, trying to coax an answer out.

After a few more seconds, the shop attendant answers with a rueful, “Can’t say I have, sir. You want me to leave this with the sheriff?”

Graves breathes out through his nose in frustration. “Now, are you positive about that? Take a closer look—I don’t mind waitin’ a bit longer for you to sift through your memories. I’m sure a town as big as this must get passersby from time to time.”

“No. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m certain. Never seen a woman fitting this description or name. Couldn’t even tell you the last time we had a stranger come through town and stay longer than a day.”

“I see.” It’s hard to tell whether Graves takes him at his word or not. The aura of menace that the man exudes suggests that anything said to him might rouse his suspicions. That they’ve already been roused, in fact. It makes even you second guess the man behind the counter, wondering if perhaps he knows and simply stays his tongue. 

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Still want me to pass this along to the sheriff?”

The floorboards creak under his feet when Graves takes a step back. “If you don’t mind. Been having the darndest time tryin’ to track down the man and, frankly, I’ve got other obligations. I do appreciate your time though.”

You stay hidden behind the shelf, listening to the sound of the spurs on his boots rattling as he leaves. The chime on the door jingles when it slams shut. You flinch at the sound. For a minute after his departure, you wonder if the door will burst back open and he’ll come crashing in, heading straight for the back to haul you out by your hair.  

A minute passes and nothing happens. The floor beneath you still feels like it might give out at any moment.

When you take your first step, the nausea comes rushing up. 

“Mrs. Price,” the shop attendant says, perking up at the sight of you coming out from behind the shelf. “I forgot you were still here.”

You feel like an automaton or a ball-jointed doll, your movements stiff as you approach him. Morbidly curious as to what you’ll see on the warrant spread out on the counter separating the two of you. When you look down, your breath comes shuddering out. 

The sketch on the paper does bear a passing resemblance to you, but only if you squint. Nothing that anyone could point to and claim with certainty that it depicts you. Underneath the sketch, you balk when you see your real name. It’s jarring to even look at. Though you’ve gone most of your life answering to it, the past few weeks have disabused you of any connection to it. Now, you feel permeable, malleable—a substance that has been reshaped into something new. That girl on the warrant is gone now. Done and dusted. So detached from memory that even the sketch of her depicts someone else, proves false. 

Still, you’re shaken by how close he’d gotten. Supposing Graves had come in while you’d been within sight. Supposing he’d looked you in the eye and asked you directly, and you’d stuttered under his sharklike gaze and drawn further scrutiny. You almost can’t believe how close it’d grazed you. The sharp edge of fate like a blade now sheathed again. 

“Would you mind taking this to the sheriff?” he asks, not realizing the gift he’s given you. “I’m a bit tied up minding the shop.”

You nod wordlessly and take the folded up warrant from him.

It burns red hot in your hands when you step outside. You glance around nervously, unsure as to whether Graves had stuck around to question more people. You wouldn’t be surprised if he were still within earshot. 

You waver in the street with the folded piece of paper tucked in your hands. A horse pulling along a cart laden with firewood creaks as it passes, rousing you from the trance you’d fallen into. You flinch, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s blinding suddenly. A clear sky, the clouds long since taken away by the wind. 

John could be anywhere at this time of day. Despite the fear curdling in your belly, you can’t help the knee jerk reaction to go to him. That’s precisely what you don’t want to do though. You don’t want to be around the county sheriff on the day a bounty hunter came into town looking for you. 

A crow sitting on the roof of a building across the street caws and flaps its wings, taking off into the sky. 

You want to be anywhere but in town waiting anxiously for John to come find you. You don’t want to lay eyes on him and see that he’s found you out. The thought of John finding out about the man you killed back east is beyond contemplation. It nearly has you keeling over in the middle of the street. You can hardly bear the thought. How could you bear to live a moment beyond that, withering under his disapproval? His contempt? 

You don’t think you can.

Every shadow fills you with dread. A barmaid comes out to toss a bucket of dirty water in the alley and you flinch like you’ve been caught. You keep your head down as you walk, eyes straight on the ground. Someone calls out your fake name and you ignore them. 

Your instinct, as usual, is to run. Abscond from the scene of the crime. Even if the thought hurts. Even though you’d let yourself begin to hope that the times of trouble had passed you by. That perhaps you could’ve made a home out here in the middle of nowhere. You should have known that those dreams were just that. You should have known better than to want. These days, it is dangerous to long for anything.

It’s better if you fade from memory like a bad dream, you think when you spot Buttercup fixed to the post outside the sheriff’s office. Better if they think of you with a bad taste in their mouth and nothing more. A girl that came and stole their sheriff’s heart and his horse and then vanished into the night. 

When one of her black eyes fixes on you, you still in your advance. A horse can’t possibly read your intentions, but you feel like she does somehow. Like she knows you intend to take her and flee. She shifts, hooves coming up and back down, and you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth suddenly, nerves taking on. You won’t let yourself be ruled by them though. There are bigger things to fear.  

“Come on, Buttercup,” you whisper, hesitating before smoothing your hand down her nose. You flinch when she nickers. “I just—I need you to help me, okay?”

It’s an outrageously bad idea. Even to you that’s obvious. You don’t have nearly enough experience riding solo or even with John trailing behind you on another horse to help offer correction if you falter on your own. You’re blinded by fear though, practically shaking as you undo Buttercup’s lead from the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

You’re clumsy trying to hoist yourself up onto her without John to boost you up and hold you steady. It takes a couple of tries before you manage to swing your leg over, and you curse under your breath when your dress bunches up around your waist, exposing the bare flesh of your legs. There aren’t many people roaming the street, fortunately for you.

Buttercup resists at first when you tug lightly on the reins to guide her away. She stomps her foot when you try again, giving a light whinny. Panic seizes you, a coil in your belly. You’ve only ever ridden her before with John at your side; you wonder if she’ll even listen to you in his absence or if even she can tell you’re about to do something foolish and wants nothing to do with it. 

“Please, girl,” you beg. “I promise—I’ll figure out some way to get you back.”

On the third attempt, she finally listens. The way she abruptly breaks into a fast trot nearly sends you toppling over. You catch yourself by clutching the horn, tight enough that your knuckles ache. Your forehead breaks out in a nervous sweat. Buttercup covers ground fast, and without John sitting behind you like a silent sentinel, you feel control slip out of your slippery hands, clammy with sweat too. 

“Whoa, girl,” you breathe, trying to calm her by stroking a hand down her neck. 

It does precious little to calm her down. You remember something John once said about animals smelling fear. They know it like your name. 

You lose control of her fast. Almost in the blink of an eye, you go from steering Buttercup towards John’s house to holding on for dear life. Your body rocks with hers and you’re forced to tighten your thighs around her midsection when she breaks into a gallop, your hands still clinging tight to the reins. Her hooves kick up dust and dirt in her haste, sending it flying behind you. 

“Slow down!” you shout, but the words are swept away by the wind, already behind you. 

Not once have you ever ridden a horse at this speed. Your direction seems like more of a suggestion to Buttercup, and not one she’s inclined to take. The town rapidly vanishes behind you, the vegetation sparse for the first few hundred yards, arid scrubland scorched by the sun and fed off of by the horses and mules coming in and out of town. The sun beats down hot on your head, no hat to shield you from the heat.

You can’t imagine you would’ve been able to hold it down though, you think wildly, mind still in a flurry of panic. It would’ve flown right off ages before. 

Your breath comes out in hitched pants as you clutch with all your might to the horn of the saddle, your hands soon transferring to her mane for better purchase. Buttercup moves like a rogue wave beneath you, like something sailors only speak about in hushed whispers. She takes a wide arc around John’s property, heading towards the mountains instead, and no amount of trying to steer her with your legs seems to work. 

Your head whips back to watch the house pass, the dark shape of it sailing past you, and it nearly causes you to lose your balance. Looking back in front of you only makes it worse. Panic courses through you when you stare ahead only for the world in front of you to spin. Bile creeps up your throat. You swallow it back, but only just.

The half-formulated plan you’d had in mind is long gone. All you can focus on now is remaining astride the horse beating dirt under you. Any thought of bringing her to a halt dissipates. Even the thought of escape evaporates into thin air. 

Only when you feel Buttercup slow to a trot do you peel open your eyes. The breath you let out as you look around is short, panic still churning in your guts.

Over the weeks since John married you and took you home, he’s taken you through the mountains a fair few times, familiarizing you with the land to the best of his abilities in such a short amount of time. But the wilderness stretches far and the terrain beyond John’s homestead is rough, treacherous. 

When you look around, you realize that you don’t recognize this part of the mountainside. 

The trail Buttercup takes you down is cut haphazard into the landscape—a crude, handmade path, not one seared into the ground from frequent travel. It feels distinctly wilder than where you’ve been before. Your head swivels around as you try to look for something that might jog your memory. The striated mountainside tells you nothing. The trees out this deep into the mountains are thicker and older, gnarled root systems bursting up from the earth and coiling around the nearby rocks like snakes winding around their prey. 

You sit up a bit straighter, still shaking when you rub your hand down Buttercup’s neck. “You know where we are, girl?”

She puffs out a breath.

That tells you nothing, but she keeps going down the same path deeper into the woods. No amount of squeezing your thighs or patting her neck gets her to stop. You should be thankful that she’s at least no longer sprinting, that you can actually sit up and catch your breath now, but the fear from earlier is but a paltry shadow compared to that which is brewing in you now. 

Every crick and snapping twig makes your head spin round. You stare intensely past the treeline, searching for the barest hint of motion. You don’t know much about these parts, but you know that this is no place for a woman by her lonesome. Even a man on his own out here might feel jumpy. This far out of the way, only cougars and bears take refuge, and the odd band of outlaws making camp for the night and taking advantage of the relative isolation this far out west. 

“Come on, girl, we can’t be out here,” you whisper, leaning closer to Buttercup to hopefully muffle your voice. Even as low as you speak, it still seems to echo.

You don’t know where you’re meant to go though. In the flurry of panic that had come over you at Graves’ arrival, you’d bolted without thought. Without a compass or map, you’re as good as lost in the unsettled land deep in the mountains. 

As that reality dawns on you, you realize that you haven’t had a drink of water in quite some time. 

An hour must pass with Buttercup stubbornly refusing to listen to your commands to turn back. Maybe longer. She resists even when you pull on the reins. In truth, you don’t blame her. Your commands come feeble, no strength behind them. The fear of being bucked off her back makes you soft. John would be gruff, unyielding—you can’t imagine him giving into fear.

That somehow upsets you even more. You can’t help but wish more than anything that he were here with you. 

The temperature drops as the sun begins to set. Without the sun beating down on you, you shiver in the cold air. There’s nothing to keep you warm other than the clothes on your back. Your lips smack when you part them, parched after hours without water. You haven’t stumbled across a river or stream in the hours since starting down this path.

Then, from behind you, you hear it. 

The name that isn’t yours. You don’t catch it at first until it comes again, louder this time. When you look over your shoulder and down the path behind you, John’s furious face stares back at you, his lips worked into a flat line. 

The way you gasp must spook Buttercup, because she abruptly breaks into a gallop, forcing you to hunker down and hold on. You want desperately to look back, torn between relief and distress, but you stare ahead instead. 

The black horse he rides gains on you fast, legs pumping beneath its massive body. It’s not a horse you’ve seen before. Maybe borrowed in his haste to chase after you. You don’t let yourself digest that thought though, too concerned with remaining astride. 

Despite its size, it collapses the distance between you two quickly, nearly on you now. Instinct has you leaning into Buttercup, trying to get as low as possible and let the air glide around you. Her gallop quickens into a sprint. You’re just holding on now, facing straight ahead, no chance of being more than a passenger on this trip. 

John shouts at you from your rear to bring Buttercup to a stop. You squeeze your lips together instead of shouting back that you can’t. If you open your mouth, you think your stomach will come straight out. 

Your body jostles around on top of your horse, on the verge of slipping off with every passing second. When she takes a turn too quickly down a trail leading up into the mountains and you slide a bit to one side on the saddle, only your foot in the stirrup catching you, your heart stops. Fear is ice inverted; poured over you. It drenches you in another layer of sweat that dries rapidly in the air whipping around you. 

Hot and cold. The ground seems to come towards you every time Buttercup’s legs kick up. Always on the verge of falling and breaking every bone in your body. You suck your tongue to the roof of your mouth so it doesn’t get caught between your clacking teeth and bitten right off. 

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the cacophony of stomping hooves. 

A glance to your right finds him close enough to graze with your fingertips. Your heart jumps in your chest.

“Pull up!” he shouts again, but all you can do is stare uncomprehendingly. 

You don’t know if he can see the terror in your eyes. It must be splayed clean across your face. He has to see the way his words mean nothing to you. Your panic effaces any meaning; all you hear is noise and anger pouring from his mouth, and trampled dirt and labored breath. 

When his horse pulls up alongside yours, he gets close enough to lean over and snatch the reins out of your hands. He pulls firm, tugging Buttercup’s head back until she almost rears up and you scream, hands fisting in her mane. 

Your body lurches forward when she comes back down, slumped over the saddle horn. It digs hard into your stomach. There’ll be a bruise there come morning, but nothing like the bruises that’ll bloom between your thighs. Even now the ache radiates down your body. You look up at the sound of John’s breath panting out like a bull, and he glares down at you with undisguised fury, the angriest you’ve ever seen him. 

“What in the blazes were you thinkin’?” he booms. Even the horse he sits astride shakes its head at the sound. “There’s nothing out here but outlaws and predators!”

The hand fisted in Buttercup’s reins pulls her closer, and he guides both horses into a slow trot and then to a stop. You can feel the way Buttercup’s ribs expand and contract under your legs. 

“Stop it— don’t touch me!” you snap when he reaches for you, smacking his hand away.

“Darlin’, if you get off that damned horse—” John warns, but you’re already swinging your leg over the saddle as the words come out of his mouth. 

You almost trip over the stirrup when you slide off Buttercup’s back and take off on foot. You fist the skirt of your dress in both hands to lift it as you run, letting it swish around you with the force of your strides. A curse and grunt come from back behind you. The sound of John’s boots hitting the dirt is loud, and when he chases after you, his boots pound into the earth.  

It’s a desperate last move, but all you can think is that you’d rather be anywhere else but in his arms. You’d rather take your chances with the wolves and bears in the woods, or with the bandits and brigands on the trails leading to the next town. 

You barely make it past the next tree before he barrels into you and takes you both to the ground, the world spinning as you fall down. He angles his body to take the brunt of the impact, but you still cry out when your hip hits the ground hard. The way he pulls you into his chest just barely keeps your head from slamming into a rock. 

“Goddamn it, woman,” John spits. “Where d’ya think you’re even going? There ain’t nowhere to run out here!”

Your head spins. When you open your mouth, all you can taste is rust and salt, sweat dripping off your upper lip. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back and he doesn’t give you a chance to gather your bearings before hauling you to your feet, tugging both of your arms behind your back. 

“Let me go!” you scream, trying to wrestle out of his hold to no avail. 

You know he doesn’t understand, but you can’t help the way you try to fight your way out of his hold. There’s no explanation that’ll make sense to him other than the truth, which you clamp tight in your chest. There's no telling if he already knows, if maybe Graves finally tracked him down or if someone else brought their suspicions to his attention, but you won't go spilling the truth yourself. 

He’s a solid mass behind you, breath labored from hours spent tracking you. You wonder if he noticed mere moments after you took Buttercup and left or whether he came back to the sheriff’s office only to find the two of you gone. 

John holds your wrists in one big hand at the small of your back and gives you a mean shake. “I don’t know what’s got you so riled up, but you better fix this attitude of yours and explain yourself before we get home or so help me God, I’ll take my belt to your ass.”

The mention of him belting your backside makes your hands go clammy, but you must have abandoned your common sense a mile back because your mouth keeps running. “I’ll gut you like a pig if you touch a hair on my head!” 

“We’ll just see about that,” he grunts, and you can hear the raw edged smirk in his voice and the anger behind it. 

When he leads you stumbling towards the horses waiting in the middle of the trail, you realize that capture had always been an inevitability in your mind. Maybe it even comes as a relief to know that the jig is up. 

You just hadn’t realized that it would be someone else hauling you back by your hair.

[mikichko]

just waking up delirious from a nap but cant get rid of the idea of price being interrogated by your friends.

night after your housewarming party, he steps out of your room bare chested and sweatpants low on his hips and finds your friends waiting for him.

they’ve never seen or heard of this man before. you only introduced him last night as john. the only indication of anything between you two was a constant point of contact between you two all night.

the questions start right away. name, age, occupation, how you met, what his intentions are. it’s all very entertaining to him, being on the other side of an incredibly juvenile interrogation attempt.

he takes it in stride though, not faltering for a moment as he starts to make himself a cup of coffee. price. ignores the age question, honestly kids these days lack decency and decorum. government worker. met at a bar. just trying to be a good man.

they don’t miss the way he doesn’t fumble through your kitchen. instead, moving through it with precision, knowing where every single item is.

and then finally, “what are you to them?” asked by the one in the back with curls, broad shoulders, and anger in his eyes that warms price all throughout. he doesn’t know he’s already lost.

he takes a sip of his coffee, mulling over the question and the last few months. shared drinks in the dark corner of an already shady pub. carrying your groceries in after you nearly tripped over yourself walking out of the store. books traded back and forth on park benches adorning a pond. stories repeated over a hot plate of dinner, the warmth softening john just a little more. your nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped around him, his mouth peppering kisses against your neck and mouthing words he can’t say out loud just yet.

he smiles against the rim of the cup, taking another swig.

“i’m their caretaker.”

[blingblong55]

Cola- John Price NSFW

Based on a request: Ma’am, hello & how are you? I hope I’m not bombarding you with a lot of requests. I was listening to Older by Isabel LaRosa and I have imagination of Fem!Reader x Price (PeePaw) Reader (early twenties), fresh graduate and a newbie in TF141 handling weapons stocks (or whatever you call it, lol). Met Price for the first time and her daddy issues vibrating. Both taken a liking of each other (im sucker for love at first sight)….. I leave the rest up to your imagination and creativity ☺️. Please ignore this request if goes against your FAQ. Thank you 🫶🏼 ---- F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, oral!sex, age!gap ----

A/N: short...I know and also a bit shit...

When you met him, it was like something clicked. The smiles you both flashed towards each other were something rather sweet. Your heart flutters, cheeks reddened and you became nervous. Your mind scrambles, trying to find an excuse to approach him and for him, it was the same. His mouth dries, eyes not being able to look away from you. What is it about you that makes him feel like a teen once more? Would you two have the chance to even talk?

You are new to base and the team your mentor, Laswell, listed you in. You became an armourer for the team and being your first day, you needed to have a meeting with the captain of the team. Fuck, I hope it's him, you think. Your eyes are on his body. Why must you be into men much older than you? It's a curse but a blessing. 

Once in his office, he sighs and nods you to sit down. "You must be Y/N?" He sits down and lights up his cigar as he sizes you up. A smirk plays on his lips. Fuck, I can't think of her this way, he thinks. 

....

The meeting is long, a rundown of what the team does, the values it holds and what you'll be doing later in the day. He smiles but tries to fight it off. He asks you to talk about yourself, a mediocre excuse to listen to your voice for longer. It's like he needs to know you for more than just being in the same team. As John leans back into his seat, he lets the smoke fill the room. Between laughter and comments, he and you can feel the attraction arise. 

He smiles, and leans in, "You said men your age don't treat you write?" Oh what a comment this could lead to. As you explain why, he smirks. Maybe a man like himself can fix the little issues you have. John begins to take notes about you, the way you talk and how you smile at fond memories that you mention casually. 

....

With days, he calls you back to his office, this happens over and over. From light conversations to the ones that make you tear up that lead to him playing the role of the man you truly need. "C'mere doll," he says and pats his leg. With teary eyes you sit on his lap and nuzzle your face on his neck, his strong arms wrapping around you. One of his hands cups your face and wipes your tears away. 

Is it wrong he wants this so much more when you cry and depend on him? Can you be his little secret? You'll understand when he asks that your sweet lips lay on his, right? or how by now, his breath is close to your lips. 

"Kiss me, yeah?" he asks with a whisper. 

You lean in, letting him take control of this moment now. Your body wrapped around his and now he cups your face, needing you closer than before. 

Fuck does he need your mouth wrapped around something else. He shakes his head and pulls away, "On your knees, doll," he commands and you obey so perfectly. 

He unzips his jeans and pulls your hand onto his cock, your lovely hands playing with his balls. Slowly, he pulls his cock out and he groans as you slowly lick his tip, your pretty eyes on him. "Oh fuck..." he whispers and pushes your head in. His hand gripping your hair, guiding you to his own need. You gag, eyes teary as you suck him off. Your sweet lips make him more aggressive, he curses you and his grip tightens on your neck when he feels his cock bulge inside of you. 

His balls tighten, his head thrown back and then he bucks his hips. "Fuck....oh fuck you're so good," he groans and just as drool falls from your mouth, he cums in your pretty throat. "Oh the things you make me do, Y/N. I promise next time, I'll show you why men like me are so good for pretty things like you." His lips meet your forehead before they kiss your swollen lips. 

A/N: This was rushed..sorry pookie

Tags:

@liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @idklols @katybaby00 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @coralwitchdreamland @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @anonymuslydumb @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @lovelyvqer @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @iruzias @sleepyycatt @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Rambling Something in Few Sentences - Angst version]

TF141*Reader, I promise there will be a fluff version I promise. I know I love to make these men suffer esp Simon Riley I just can’t help 😖

Price

“May I have the pleasure to dance with you, Love?”

“Of course, John.” He watched your glistening eyes contained endless love for him.

...

“May I have the pleasure to dance with you, love?”

“...”

He watches your photo, lights up a cigar, starts the music on his player, and sways to the music alone in the house that used to ring with your laughter.

Soap

“Stop drawing me, Johnny, you already have tons of sketches of me, draw something else!”

“Journal is for the beautiful things, aye? how can I not draw when the prettiest lass is beside me?”

...

“Why I never see you draw people? Soap?”

“Because the most beautiful person doesn’t exist now, there’s no meaning to draw people anymore.”

Gaz

“Hey babe, time to get up for breakfast!” He yelled from the dining room, only to hear your hoarse and languid voice coming from the bedroom.

“ten more... minutes... come wake me up... “ He smiled to your response, and took a look at the clock, reminding himself to go find you later.

...

“Babe, time for breakfast!”

“...”

“Shit” He stares at the breakfast for two people placing on the table, curses under his breath.

“always remembered to wake you up 10 minutes later, always forget you aren’t here anymore.”

Ghost

“Talking to a doll is fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s a daily ritual for good luck, okay?” He stood there, huffed out a laugh when you gave the shark plushie a kiss. “Bye sharkie, wish me luck, We’ll be home soon!”

...

“Hi, sharkie.” He wakes up when the sunlight pours into the room, and what he sees first is the shark plushie lying beside him.

Brushing his teeth, brewing a morning tea for himself, he comes back to the bedroom one more time before he leaves the house.

“Bye sharkie, wish me luck, I’ll be back soon, yeah?”

The necklace you used to wear after he gifted to you now is secured around the shark’s body, reflecting the sunlight and shining when he speaks softly to it, as if answering him for the sharkie, and you.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Ex-Boyfriend John Price MiniFic

Thinking of your ex-boyfriend John Price seeing you again for the first time after a nasty break-up that essentially didn't go as planned by him.

You knew what you were getting into when entering a relationship with a man who was a workaholic. You knew it was always a priority but you never thought that it had to be an ultimatum between you and that, clearly you were an idiot to think you were more important.

If only you hadn't asked his friend, why was he prolonging his time with you if his decision was set to end it with you when he got the promotion? What exactly would change in that short amount of time?

That night ended in screams, no matter how much John tried to tell you he loves you, it fell on deaf ears. "Actions speak louder than words" was always the saying and you know what? That applies to this, it applies to everything he's ever made you felt and the lack of exchange.

You tried so hardly to not discredit the past, but maybe he just used you. He only tolerated your love like it's a minor convenience for him, you were already there, it's not like he could be picky on who chooses to take care of him.

But who cares right? That was three years ago and you two live separate lives now. John was out there doing god knows what with his colleagues drinking his nights away as he took another woman in bed every night in hopes to drown you out his mind.

If it wasn't for his friend's influence that one drunken night, John wouldn't have said yes to attending a black-tie event. Wasn't ever his thing really, fancy settings with stuffy clothes.

He tried to fit in as far as he could, pretending to stare at whatever painting or sculpture he can spot when in reality no thoughts or feelings except one thing.

He was never one to appreciate or understand what most art try to convey but he once knew someone who did. This was a place you would've thrived in and maybe some part of him wanted you to be there, some sick joke life was playing really.

His whole body froze right as he knew it. There you were, that silk baby pink dress that just made you glow paired with that white fur shawl that he remembers you showed off to him. How adorable you were telling him that it caught your eye and might be useful at a formal event.

Something he thought he'd only ever see in his dreams again.

Barely blinking as you stared at the painting mounted on the wall with this golden frame, you expression deep in thought yet your eyes were glassed with admiration.

What does he do? Without thinking, he stepped forward in hopes that his body would be strong enough to be able to approach you.

He was about to when.. a man approaches you, embracing you from behind. You were caught of guard but you quickly realize who it was and it was clear to John what your familiarity was with this man.

The image of the man burying his face on the nape of your neck was more than enough to cruelly twist the knife in his heart that's been lodged there for the past 3 years.

Those three words uttered by the man, loud enough for John to hear, the same one you'd always tell him but he rarely returned for a reason he himself is unaware of.

The sound of the camera clicks snapped Price out of his trance, paparazzi, who wouldn't want to capture an intimate, romantic moment between a couple who both happened to be rich?

He couldn't do anything to fix this even if he tried, for all he knew you were now in the arms of a influential, dangerous man who would destroy John's life if he wanted to. He gulps, not knowing what to do..

A/n: Was this inspired by that one scene from Twisted LIes?? Idk what you're talking about 👀 ALSO DON'T SPOIL ME, I'M ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH THE BOOK

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

[the-froschamethyst4]

A Woman Like You Shouldn’t be Tucked Away

𖤐Pairing: Price x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, fluff, language, mention misogyny, toxic ex-relationship, age gap, groping, blind date, kissing/making out, P in V, hand job, blowjob, strangers to lovers,

𖤐Summary: You try something new for once and that “something new” is blind dating, your friend had set you up with someone and you don’t know how you’ll feel about him

————

————

Y/n’s foot taps the ground impatiently.

He’s late, she thought to herself. She had decided to step out of her comfort zone and she wanted to try something new and that was trying blind dating.

Y/n’s friend had met a guy trough a website that had connected you to Military people, she had met him and then had suggested Y/n to meet his friend who was looking to start dating again.

All she knew about him is that he is a widower. His wife had passed away from a heart attack and he thought about not dating again, but he wanted to get back into looking for someone again.

Y/n had thought about leaving a few times but gave him the benefit of the doubt and stayed for a little bit. Maybe he’s nervous because he’s meeting someone new? Who knows.

As her fingers ran around the rim of her wine glass someone had moved the chair in front of her, she jumps and looks up seeing a man.

“Are you John Price?” She asked.

“Yes…I’m sorry I’m late…just a bit nervous,” he says, wiping his hands on his pants.

“It’s okay…I’m nervous as well,” she says.

John had ordered his food and drink and they waited, there was close to no conversation, but every so often.

"My friend said...you're a widower?"

"Yep...trying to get back into the dating world again."

"How long was it since she passed?" Y/n asked, hoping it wasn't a touchy subject.

"6 years..."

"Wow. I'm sorry for your lost."

"It's okay...I'm okay," he says. "Tell me about you...did you date?"

"I dated my ex for 5 years..."

"Can I ask what happened for you two to break it off?" He asked.

"...He was...misogynistic."

"Oh wow...what would he say?"

"He wasn't like this in the beginning of our relationship. He started getting social media and then over time became very misogynistic, I use to make more money than him, and he started calling me names like a whore and slut because he accused me of selling pictures of myself for money, which wasn't the case." Y/n could go on and on about this ex of hers.

"Then...when I quit my old job because of some co-workers, and when I was looking for a new job he would tell me that I should stay home and be a good little housewife and do chores and make him his dinner before he gets home. So, I had enough and left him within a week because I was over it...sorry...I'm rambling," she says.

"No, no, it's okay, I understand...but a woman like you shouldn't be tucked away." He says.

Y/n's face started to heat up, she was blushing. "T-Thank you," she says with a soft smile of her face.

"Did he...do anything else?" He asked.

"He was just an asshole..." she says. Soon their food arrived and the waiter coming back to refill their drinks.

John hadn't eaten he was listening to Y/n as she talked, which was kind of crazy for Y/n...she hardly talked and most of the time no one listened to her, so it was surreal that someone like John Price was even listening to her or even looking her.

John then leaned forward, his rough calloused hands had touched her smooth, bare knee and then moving up to her soft plush thigh. She jumps and stops eating, putting her fork down and she looks up at John who was still looking at her.

She clears her throat. "A-Are you going to eat?" She asked him.

"I will," he says, his hands still touching her thigh and then soon his hands left her thigh and he starts to eat. In a way, Y/n didn't want his hand to leave her, with his touch she felt safe versus her ex who seem to only been with her for sex.

Soon after John and Y/n were done eating and Y/n wasn't drinking anymore. John then talks about his life and Y/n listens to him like he did with her, almost looking at him.

"Anyways...this was fun, Y/n."

"Really?" She says kind of surprised.

"Yeah...when you wanna meet for the second date?" He asked, giving her his phone and she put her number into his phone giving it back.

"Umm~ I-I don't know...I didn't think I'd even get this far," she gives him an awkward giggle.

"We'll talk about it..." he says

They both get up from the table and John walked with Y/n to her car opening the driver door for her.

"I'll text you later?" He says. She just nods.

-----------

3 Months Later

Y/n laid on her stomach on with her book in her hands, an oversized shirt that was actually Price's. Price had asked Y/n to come stay the night with him every now and then.

Price had came out of the shower, towel around his waist and another rubbing his hair dry. Y/n didn't know Price had came out of the shower till she felt a semi wet hand on the back of her thigh, giving her a soft kiss.

"John?"

"Hmm?" He hums. She looks over her shoulder his hands going up her shirt and squeezing her butt earning a soft moan from her.

"What are you doing?" She asked. He doesn't answer but just keeps kissing her thighs. She moans and looks back at her book. The bed shifts and his legs are on either side of her.

Price leans over her kissing her neck and rubbing his hands up her shirt squeezing her breasts now. She just smiles at him and kissed his cheek.

"You smell good," she says.

"You do too."

"I smell like sweat," she says.

"Nah, you smell good," he repeats. Price then rubs himself against her. She moans throwing her head back, her head on his shoulder as his hand was under her chin kissing her jawline and cheek.

"Let me do the work," he says, kissing down her body. He removes his towel from his waist and then he lifts the bottom of her shirt up revealing her panties, he pulls them off her lower half, lifting herself up just a bit to make it easy for him.

He starts to pump himself a few times before gently sliding himself inside of her. Y/n was a moaning mess, mewling at his slow and soft thrusts. Price smirks at her sudden moans.

Since the day she met Price, he was always gentle with her, their second date was at the movies and he didn't leave her thigh alone the entire movie.

Their first time doing it together was soft and gentle, Price didn't want to hurt Y/n it's not something he'd do to a woman he's interested in.

Price held Y/n's hands above her head as he slightly started to pick up the pace, she moans and her legs wrap around his waist.

He picks up the pace, the time pulling her to his lap and helping her bounce on him, her hands resting on his shoulders, his hands resting on her butt squeezing her and kissing her neck, leaving behind a few small purple hickies.

Price loves this girl, who would hurt her is the question? Price then leaned forward their lips landing on each other, soft and gentle as he lays her back on her back and then starts moving faster and he feels her squeezing around him.

"Oh fuck!" He threw his head back.

"J-John," he leans down holding her head and kissing her lips.

He just smiles as he moves faster and faster, he sits up placing his hand on her lower stomach feeling his dick bulging from her stomach.

"Fuck," the both curse.

Y/n grabbed the bottom of her shirt lifting it up and putting the end in her mouth. She ended up coming, John felt it wanting to escape from her. He pulls out, he puts his head back and was catching his breath as Y/n was too.

Y/n let go of the end of her shirt and she felt like melting into the bed.

-----------

2 Years Later

Y/n and Price were living together now. Price sat in the living room as Y/n was coming to the living room with a mug of hot tea for Price and one for her.

She sits next to him, she placed her mug on the coffee table in front of them, she smiles up at him as he was focused on the TV, she smirks and starts moving her hand onto his crotch rubbing him and watching as his face was becoming red.

"watch that hand of yours."

"Or what?" She teased, her hands then starts unbuckling his jeans a pulling his dick out and starts pumping him a few times. He groans and bucks his hips up into her hand.

Y/n looks up at him licking the corner of her mouth and leaning down licking his tip and kissing his tip as well. Price tries his best to look at the TV and distract his mind, but his little girlfriend was good at giving him head.

He tossed his head back, groaning and bucking his hips up. She slightly gags every time his tip hits the back of her throat. Y/n looks up at him through her hair.

"F-Fuck," he moans, leaning back and he placed his hand on the back of her head. She moves his hand away from her head and moved her mouth from his dick.

"Love," he groans. She just smiles and climbs on top of him and she moves her panties to the side and she slowly slides herself onto him.

"Fuck," they both moan.

"You are an evil woman."

"Me? Never," she smiles at him as she slowly grinds on him, earning a groan from his lips.

"Fuck me," he moans. She wanted to say something snarky but Price kisses her from saying anything. "No words from you," he says.

"Y-You don't even know what I-I was going to say," she teases.

"I already am," he says.

"Damn," she smiles kissing him.

"God I wanna come," he moans.

"Do it," she teased him. She was moving a bit faster on him, his hands holding her waist and he felt like coming inside of her.

[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.

[ultraviolencer23]

Older price showing younger reader how to give head. Praising us as he forces his thick cock down our throats.... (Sorry for being a menace)

an : stop this had me giggling and kicking my feet!! older price has my heart <3

nsfw 18+・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆ minors dni!!

pairing : older!price x fem!reader

warnings : smut, oral (m receiving), rough, praise, non-specified age gap, kinda innocent reader

"on your knees, sweetheart," he commanded, giving you no choice but to comply. you silently obliged and settled your knees upon the wooden floor beneath you, glancing up at his stern-looking face. "you ever sucked cock before, honey?" he asked, tracing his fingers over your jaw.

you shook your head in response, adrenaline coursing through your mind. he huffed out a chuckle. "of course," he smiled, "that's okay. i'm gonna teach you, alright?"

you nodded nervously, watching him begin to undo his belt, hearing the clanking buckle as the strip of leather dropped to the floor, and watching his steady fingers unfasten his trousers' button. in an almost desperate manner, he shoved his pants down his thighs, leaving his boxers, that seemed much too tight, for he had hardened from the moment his eyes found themselves set upon you. his hand instinctively came down to palm his ache with a low grunt leaving his throat.

your eyes widened at the sight, catching a glimpse of the outlined size of his dick beneath the fabric. you felt yourself subconsciously fidgeting with your hands as he pulled the waistband of his underwear down, reavealing his thick, solid cock. as he took it in his hand, you felt your heart rate quicken at the sheer size of him, almost in fear, watching him stroke the shaft a few times before stepping closer towards you.

"don't worry, sweetheart," he muttered, "y' gonna be fine." replying was the last of your thoughts; instead, you began to reflexively open your mouth as he inched closer. you gently wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, sucking off his pre-cum, whilst staring up at him with wide eyes, yearning for some praise. "that's it, honey," he said, lacing his fingers through your hair, "now, you gotta take it a bit deeper, that okay?"

you pulled away to nod in reply, before moving back to his cock, once again wrapping your lips around his tip, but now slowly taking more of him in your mouth. "good girl," he groaned, "now  move up and down, like this. let me show you."

without hesitation, he grasped a handfull of your hair, allowing him to easily move your head up and down his cock as he wished. you found your eyes closing as his tip inched further into your mouth and back out repeatedly, when you felt the grip on your hair tighten.

"eyes up here," he said; your teary eyes fluttered open to see his face contorted in pleasure, as he used your mouth to get himself off. he bucked his hips towards your mouth, making you splutter around his cock, and causing held up tears to spill down your face as he hit the back of your throat.

"sorry, honey," he grunted, holding onto the sides of your head and thrusting his hips towards your mouth. one especially deep thrust had your throat contracting around his cock, dragging a guttural moan from his mouth. "fuck. that's a good girl, baby," he groaned, "doin' so fuckin' well for me."

the length of his cock ploughed in and out of your mouth and the speed of his hips increased as he brought himself closer to the edge. as his thrusts grew more desperate, more haphazard, his grasp on your hair grew tighter, his grunts grew louder and you moved your hands to hold onto his thighs to steady yourself from his relentless pace.

"oh honey, so good for me," he groaned, leaning his head back with eyes closed in ecstasy, rutting his hips up to your face in exasperation. the touch of your soft hands against his skin was enough to drive him mad, only encouraging the ceaseless movement of his hips as you had no choice but to take his cock down your throat.

“‘m gonna fuckin’ come,” he grumbled, keeping up his harsh pace with his hands tightly tangled in your hair, “you’re gonna take it all.” with a few more deep thrusts, you felt his cock swell in your mouth, along with a loud series of groans that clouded your mind with desire. “fuck,” he grunted with one final pump, spilling himself into your mouth, rope after rope.

instinctively, you swallowed the liquid as he took his cock from your mouth and looked down upon you in awe, taking in the sight before him. you smiled up at him and his entranced state as he chuckled in response, offering you his hand to stand up from the floor.

“you took that so well, honey.”

[deunmiu-dessie]

captain price who didn't much care for you when laswell introduced you to the team. captain price who steered clear of you most days, he was a busy man after all. captain price who didn't really like the idea of you being a 'stress reliever' for them. captain price who's had to break up arguments between the 141 team about who you preferred in bed. captain price who grows curious about what exactly you offer. captain price who requests you for the first time since you've joined the team.

price's mouth swallows your loud whimpers as his cock hammers into you; your cheeks are flushed with heat and drool dribbles down your cheeks from his sloppy kisses. he pulls away and gazes at your bleary eyes through hooded lids before a wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips. "s'this the pussy my men fight over? come on then princess. i know y'can do better."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ - 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒!

[v1x3n]

[y13evie]

141 + konig, Alejandro, and Rudy with an S/O that has thick thighs

141 + koni, alejandro, n rudy with a s/o that’s got thickkk thighs

a/n: im so sorry for the delay in posts but i trust have sm to post yall don’t even worry

mainly cutesy stuff with some suggestive moments

john price loves how your thighs hug any pants you wear. he loves to keep a spare hand on them whenever he’s next to you, whether that is in a meeting or just relaxing on the couch. he believes that your thighs make your body just that much more perfect.

simon riley is obsessed with the shape of your thighs. he believes that they’re plush pillows that were made specifically for him to lay on. not even in a sexual way, he loves kissing up and down your thighs. the soft skin makes it a luxury experience for him.

johnny mactavish thinks your thighs are the best part of your body. of course he adores your face, but the way your thighs get bigger when you sit down, almost welcoming him to use them as pillows. he loves the way they grip around him when you’re on top.

kyle garrick believes being between your thighs is heaven on earth. in a sexual and non sexual manner. he loves sitting between your thighs and letting you stroke through his hair. he listens to you talk about your day but tends to get distracted by thinking about what your reaction would be if he flipped his head over.

könig LUUVSSSS how your thighs look in shorts. good lord omg. like you’ll just be walking around base and it takes everything in that tank of a man to not put you on the countertops and. i mean what omg lol. but he’ll also love up on you if you ever get self conscious about stretch marks, reassuring you it just adds to your perfections.

alejandro vargas is a slut for your thighs, sorry. the way they’re like the foundation of your body’s shape drives him insane. especially if you’re going out to an event and decide to wear a risqué dress, exposing the plush skin to everybody there. when you get home he’ll make sure to teach you a lesson.

rudy parra loves massaging your thighs. you’re not sure how it started. whenever he gets home from a particularly rough mission or if he just needs intimate time with you, he’ll make you lay down and allow him to massage them. it’s stress relieving for both you and him. rudy can’t help himself, not his fault your build is perfect.

[sagi-tori-ous]

Older Boyfriend Price always gave you what you wanted, listened when you complained and was always patient with you.

Older Boyfriend Price knew when you wanted something but didn't know how to ask—it's when you started to get a little bratty...okay! maybe that was an understatement, you could be a full on brat.

You always got bratty when you wanted affection from him, you felt as if he should be giving it to you 24/7 anyway. You'd huff and pout, let tears stream down until you got what you wanted.

Older Boyfriend Price always knows how to resolve the issue, after all you were his brat.

The rough pads of Price's fingers, slick with your arousal, rub against your throbbing clit with vigor—Head lolled back, thighs spread wide and hips rolling to the rhythm he settled into.

You could feel Price's meaty cock nestled just between the lower part of your back and ass as you sat atop his lap.

"Oh~" Your moans are breathy, hitching ever so often as he keeps up such a consistent pace.

"Why y'running?" Price asks when your hips slide up—flinching when two fingers dip into your dripping entrance, wasting no time in curling up to directly come in contact with your g-spot.

"Right there..." the question unintentionally ignored, your mind focused on how Price massaged your spongy walls with such precision and speed.

Your legs push you farther into Price's naked lap and you shuffle your head into the crook of his neck as that familiar feeling in your abdomen builds feverishly.

Price's left hand finds your neck easily, wrapping his sizable hand around it whilst you chase your orgasm.

You could feel his gaze occasionally switch between your pleasure ridden face and drenched cunt—though you wouldn't dare to look at his rugged face.

You knew the hungry gaze that adorned it, you knew how fast that look would have your pussy gushing with a release, the thought alone had whines spilling shamelessly out of your mouth.

The tremor that was set in your legs was almost comical, but the action of closing said legs alongside your glazed eyes was laughable.

Price would never let that slide, you knew that.

"keep em' open." You ignored his command—intentionally, hoping to just revel in the feeling.

"not tellin you again." You knew the bite he had in his tone left no room for discussion.

You barely crack your eyes open, tears pricking the corners as your stomach starts to cave—unintentionally you lift your gaze to meet his, eyes already trained on you as he takes in everything you have to offer him.

Price dips his head to leave a firm kiss on your lips, suckling on your bottom lip briefly before letting go, " f'cking brat." His tone low and guttural, the mischievous gleam in his eyes evident.

" my f'cking brat." He clarifies.

Click me→ 🩵

𝐃𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: @deunmiu-dessie

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫: @cafekitsune @pwixi

[schtrambotik]

I think too much when I can't sleep. This is definitely not proofread but please enjoy a tiny look into my never-ending neighbor fantasy. nsfw 18+ Neighbor!Price who tries his best to hide his attraction to you knowing he’s too old for you but often fails miserably. Looking at you up and down when you wave at him from your front porch, his eyes fixed on your exposed legs while giving you a tight-lipped smile. A raspy “Good morning, doll” leaving his lips as he walks past your shared fence towards his car.  

Neighbor!Price who’s been positively obsessed with you since the day you first moved in. He can remember everything from the day you two met, all the way from the innocent smile you gave him as he introduced himself, down to the small tank top you were wearing, and the way your sweat made it stick to your body from the effort of carrying in your boxes.  

Neighbor!Price who let you know you could count on him for anything you might need, telling you he wants to make sure you do okay. A sweet young thing like you living in that big house all alone, it’s not odd for him to care, or something like that he said.   

“I mean it, love. Anything, anytime.” his deep voice, along with that signature stern look on his face easily sent chills down your spine ever since. You softly nodded your head, assuring him you won’t hesitate to call him.   

Neighbor!Price who was delighted to see you that evening when he opened his front door. His eyes immediately darted to your soaked shirt without any shame, clearing his throat at the sight of your wet cleavage that was practically begging for his attention.   

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked with a low tone once he met your gaze again, noticing the distressed look in your eyes. A deep loud laugh left his lips when you explained how you noticed your sink was leaking, and in the process of fixing it, you seemed to have made the problem worse.   

Neighbor!Price who went to help you without a second thought, walking into your home as if he had been there a million times, going straight to your bathroom to find and hopefully fix the mess you made. Working in silence and pretending he couldn’t tell you seemed to be in a trance staring at every part of him while he worked, his arms certainly catching most of your attention.  

Neighbor!Price who felt a fire erupt in his chest when you engulfed him in a quick hug once he was done. The softness of your voice when you thanked him not helping at all as he tried his hardest to be a gentleman. But God was it hard when your tits pressed up against him like that.  

Neighbor!Price who snapped out of his daydream when you asked if there’s anything you could do to thank him. 

“A drink would be good” he hummed in response, following you into the kitchen while trying to push the nasty thoughts to the back of his mind and ignore the growing ache in his pants.  

Neighbor!Price who was practically torturing himself by staying next to you, only having half a mind to hear the words to whatever silly story you were telling him. Nods and hums were his only response while he finished his glass.   

Neighbor!Price who decided to be quick with his goodnight, knowing it was only a matter of time before he gave in and did something stupid.   

“Thanks again,” you said with a sweet smile, looking up at him with those doe eyes while you stood next to the door.  

“It’s my pleasure.” the rasp in his tone gave away how much he was restraining himself, but thankfully you were oblivious to his current predicament, at least that’s what he told himself.   

“If you need me, you know what to do” he gave you a playful wink before stepping out, feeling your eyes follow him while he returned to his house.  

Neighbor!Price who couldn’t go to sleep that night until he stroked his cock at the thought of how he could’ve bent you over that kitchen counter and showed you exactly how much he wanted to help you.

Your name fell from his lips like prayer while he pictured how you could’ve thanked him with your pretty pink lips wrapped around his leaking tip, looking up at him with those innocent eyes that made him ache to ruin you.   

Neighbor!Price who came with a loud grunt that vibrated through the back of his throat; eyes tightly shut as he imagined his cum dripping onto your big round tits instead of his bedsheets.   

Slow strokes and deep breaths helped him come down from the high; head falling back against the soft pillows as he opened his eyes again. Swearing to himself this would be the last time he thought of you like that, just like he did every night. 

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Hello it's me again the Sharkie anon, I hope I didn't bother you too much with my request but if you did please tell me so i can limit my portion. Your writings and story delivering are one of my favorites here and really I can't thank you enough for my previous reqs because they're just excellent and well written *happy cries*.

*Cough cough* btw this is more like an ask, mmm what do you think about TF141 reaction when they see reader wearing face jewelry like face chain https://images.app.goo.gl/7XVrRfjxWJNQrXfw6

Maybe a random soldier from other task force brought it for disguise purpose and reader tries it on, or simply reader just loves jewelries and when there's a party she choose to wear it – its up to you for the scenario. Aaaaand well, to make it better, let's combine those face jewelries with this outfit and hairdo reference (sorry for using kpop reference) https://images.app.goo.gl/7XTz3HQ8Fgg9kAGE7

Thank you, hope your April's great

Hello sharkie 🦈 ! please feel free to send me ideas/requests, although it may take a few days to finish because irl things, but I love to do them, and I’m so happy to see you coming back to my blog! and tyvm for the kind words, I’m the one who needs to thank you 🥹💖 I hope your life’s doing well too!

I’m glad you like the previous reqs!! but I’m afraid that you might be disappointed to this one, cause I never heard of face chains before omgggg, I tried my best but sorry in advance if this sucks 🥲 (and pls don’t apologize for the refs anything is okay for me!)

TF141 men seeing you wearing face chain for party ( you guys go to the party together)

Price

He hasn’t heard about face chains before. He’s too busy (and not really interested), and rarely pays attention to what is trending lately, but when you walk out of the dressing room with those dazzling chains decorating across your face, he just stands there confused and in awe.

He can’t stop staring at you, the sky-blue jewel on your face chain just suits your gown so much, and them shining under the chandelier when you sway your hips and stroll to his side makes him feel like a teenager infatuated with a girl again.

It’s inconvenient for him to kiss you though, because it might tangled with his beard. You two will laugh when he leans down to give you a peck on your lips and then the face chain entangles your long hair with his beard.

You will find his search history flooded with face chains after the party. What you don’t know is he already bought a few chains he thinks might fit you and can’t wait to let you wear them for him

Soap

This man will demand to wear a matching face chain with you, don’t forget to tell him what kind of chain you’re wearing for the party, so he’s able to get one in time

Shows you and himself off to everyone he meets at the party, forcing everyone to admit it suits you guys (well they aren’t lying)

Insist on putting the face chain on your face himself, surprisingly careful when doing it, but it’s impossible for him not to keep pressing kisses during the process, so remember to start dressing earlier than usual or you guys might be late

He will kiss your ears a lot. He loves how the face chain disappears into your hair and then hangs from your ears. He finds it sexy that the chains are merging with your outfit and whole figure like you are a divine gift. (he can’t wait for the party to end and unwrap his gift back home)

Gaz

He’s the one laying out a bunch of face chains for you to choose, and of course, he has checked what you’re going to wear when attending the party, so every face chain he fishes out is just the best one to bring out your beauty.

How is he able to stop praising you when he sees you wear the face chain he picks for you? Since the first time he learned about face chains he yearns for a chance to see you wear it.

He restrains himself from sucking a hickey just below your ears even though he knows it will look perfect beside your face chain, but he makes sure to take a mental note, reminding himself to do it after the party.

When someone asks about your face chain, he will proudly tell them he chose it for you. Your girl friends are crazy for the pretty face chain and ask if they can have a close look, they attentively touch and observe it, and that’s how you find out there’s a K.G. engraved on one of the pendants.

Ghost

He hates parties, and has been grumpy and annoyed for it the past few days, but the tantrum vanishes the second he finds you dressed up in the blue dress adorn with white silk like you’re some fallen angel, and takes out your face chain ready to put it on.

He doesn’t know about face chains either, and doesn’t own one to match with you even if he craves one right now, so he wears a pair of earrings that are similar to the design of your face chain.

He likes to show off his beautiful partner, others should know how majestic his partner is, but he stays close to you and sends death stares to those who dare to look at you with dirty thoughts inside their mind, moreover, he likes to be at your side and help you adjust the chain when it accidentally stucks with your hair (he take these chances to touch your face and soft hair)

Discover he loves chains as apparel for you, the face chain, the silver necklace made with a chain and little pendants on you opens the door to a new world for him. Don’t be too surprised when next time you open the gift box and find an exquisite pair of lingerie with chains as decorations.

[konigsblog]

riding price's face...

cw: female anatomy+titles, mentions of alcohol. 18+

john price is desperate and hungry to eat you out, especially when you're drunk, eyelids heavy with pleasure as you relax, letting him work you open.

he's always hungry for your sweet taste and your scent, that scent that has his meaty, and pulsating cock twitching, leaking and aching in his tight boxers and military issued trousers. he missed you so fucking much whilst on deployment, without your tight pussy -- and couldn't help himself from sharing a few drinks with his doll, before spreading your legs slowly, his lips moving against your pussy.

you cried out as your body jerked and twitched at the wet and warm sensation of his tongue against your clit, your breath hitching in your throat as he flicked and dragged his tongue between your folds, coating you in his saliva. the smell of vodka was strong and prominent, you could smell it off of him from between your legs. his breath hot and laboured against your thighs, squeezing them a few times as you rubbed your clit gently. your thumb moved in soothing circles, helping you become even wetter for john.

“attagirl...” he grumbled, gritting his teeth and rubbing the tip of his tongue against your clit teasingly. you moaned loudly, hand cupped over your mouth as you rocked your hips, grinding and presenting your glistening cunt against his mouth.

all price wants is to see his pretty baby cumming, making a mess. :(

[the-froschamethyst4]

Price

❥ honey-drizzle

❥ like-father-like-son

❥ the-way-of-a-househusband

❥ its-always-uncle-gaz

❥ the-cowboy-hat-rule

❥ spanking

❥ suit

❥ let-me-use-you

❥ that-dumb-smile

❥ baby-talk

❥ my-wifes-the-boss

❥ is-your-mom-single

❥ my-daddy-is-my-hero

❥ playing-in-the-rain

❥ stuck-in-the-devils-arms

❥ a-woman-like-you-shouldnt-be-tucked-away