#John Box

[the-evil-clergyman]

Pandora by John William Waterhouse (1896)

[atomic-chronoscaph]

The Beatles model kits - Box art by Donald Putman (1964)

[paris-in-space]

I love proposal day

[gomzdrawfr]

Merry Christmas!! they're exchanging gifts by the tree :3

[tampire]

The arrival of Jon Hamm and John Cena in Good Omens and The Oscars

[the-californicationist]

What would your fave position to be in with the 141, either individually or together... asking for a friend... <3

Mmm. Well. If it were me, personally?

(NSFW/MDNI under cut)

For Gaz, it’s gonna have to be big spoon little spoon. He’d be making us both late for work every morning, turning my hips just right so that he could slip his heavy morning wood inside. He’d start off so soft and gentle, but by the time he was stuffing himself down to the root of his huge cock, I’d wake up, feeling the wetness he’d been busy creating, nearly choking from how full I feel. My body would be rocking back and forth as he had his way with me. And when I chastise him for making me miss the train? Just placating little excuses murmured between kisses — “I’m already workin’, babes. Can’t ya feel your man? Hard at work…”

For Ghost, it’s the cowgirl to lotus to missionary pipeline. He’d start off flat on his back, demanding some face sitting or a sixty-nine situation. Then, he’d stick me right on top, egging me on — “Lemme see those fuckin’ tits bounce, love. Good girl.” Then, he’d get too bothered, unable to hold back, too hungry, too much of a control freak. So he’d sit up, wrapping his legs behind me, moving my hips with his hands and grinding me into a shaking trembling mess. Finally, when I could barely remember my own name, he’d press forward, pinning me on my back, arching over me like a shield, telling me — “Shh, shh. Tha’s alright, love. You don’t need to fuckin’ talk. Suck on my fingers like it’s my prick, yeah? Tha’s it… all the way in, there ya go.”

For Soap, it has to be legs-over-shoulders. That big Scottish cock is curved and I will be taking no notes! None. It’s bent at a cruel angle and perfectly shaped to drag his ruddy head right across my g-spot with every stroke. He’d love to press my thighs to my chest, going deeper or harder, his hands staying busy with my clit or my nipples or my mouth, always finding new buttons to push. He’d especially enjoy ripping mind-breaking orgasms from me, shoving my vibrator against my clit as he fucked me, teasing me with it and saying shit like — “Is she gonnae come again for me, bonnie? I ken there’s one more in her, and I willnae stop until I have it…”

And for my darling captain, John Price, it’s nothing but straight-up, bone-shaking, soul-rattling doggy. After a long hard day of dealing with unimaginable bullshit? I’m on all fours in the fucking foyer, face pressed into the hardwood, pussy spread open like a cheap whore, stuffed full of cock. When he sees me in that tight pair of jeans that he likes a little too much? There I am, shirt raked down below my breasts, back arching as I’m bent over the kitchen counter, his meaty palm wrapped around my neck, bruising my hips with how hard he’s rutting into me from behind. In the middle of the night, his fat prick drooling and heavy, swaying between his huge thighs? He’ll fist my hair in one hand and grope my ass with the other as he breeds me, snarling into my ear, “Filthy fuckin’ slag. Whose cunt is this? Hmm? Nuh-uh. Say my real name…” And he won’t come until I call him Daddy.

But all together? Preferably a perfect seal: Price and Soap fighting to fit inside my pussy, Gaz stuffing himself deep in my ass, and Ghost filling up my throat!

What about you, anon?? Got any favorites?

[yeyinde]

Father John Price has been acting strange lately.

It started as little things most wouldn't notice—an odd slur to his words, far rougher than what you were used to hearing. A sway to his gait when he walked as if he was unfamiliar with the layout to the monastery. Gaps in his memory when pried for pieces of information that he should have known better than anyone else within the walls of the old building. Little slips. Missteps.

Nothing to worry about.

Not at first, anyway.

Not until it bleeds out, grows. Turns into touches. A searing, angry gaze drilling into your head whenever you look away from him. Ire lashing over each word he growls out in the alcoves he corners you inside, the guise of polite conversation falling to pieces when he slips his foot between yours, prying your thighs apart to stand between them. Towering over you as he rasps out commands for you to tell him about how you spent the evening prior on your knees—

Praying, you whisper feverishly, feeling the deep indents of the rosary beads imbedded into your fingers.

But that never seems to matter much to him. Not when the prayer is always an afterthought, and he makes noises like a wounded animal when you breathe out how long you stayed like that, and how—unable to resist temptation after gripping the rosary for long—you had to slide your cold fingers under your robes, numb, shaking hands seeking the blistering heat between your thighs.

("not close enough to tempt the devil," you mutter, shamefaced, heart lurching when the noise he makes in the back of the throat sounds like a misfiring gun. "But—" he drops his head to the wall, heaving. Eyes burning into your temple as you stare at the crooked tilt of his collar, unable to meet his gaze. Scared of what you might find. "But close enough that I had to—to pray again—")

And as the distant, unflappable mask of a seemingly incorruptible man begins to crack, breaking apart to unveil a yawning chasm, you find yourself trapped in confessional box with him after dark, quickly realising that the man you devoted your life to has fallen into that crater.

And something else has taken his place.

[vgilantee]

Price's lockscreen is a photo of you mid-fuck but everyone thinks you're asleep and snoring with your mouth open when they see it.

eyes closed, his hand cupping your cheek, head back. you really do just look like you are asleep and he's caressing your face. but if someone decides to look just a little longer they'll notice your eyes aren't all the way closed and there are tears staining the corners of your eyes, and your slightly open mouth - that looks like you are just mouth breathing - has your tongue out just a little bit

and the original photo is a live photo, and if someone presses and holds, they'll see your body jolting up with his quick thrusts, and john's hand isn't caressing your cheek, but holding the side of your neck to keep you from sliding too far away from him. and when he opens it in his gallery and holds down to watch the short few seconds with the volume on, John can hear his hips wetly snapping against yours and your little "ah ah ah!" sounds

[zil-street]

sketch request: your John reminds me of a galaxy so i think he would have a great time stargazing!! (A very “look thats the Orion constellation! Did you know-“ kind of guy)

Sorry, I had an idea and ran with it.

[efingart]

Fixed it

Why yes I did order a pizza just so I could draw Gaz on the box 😅

[dewdlebot]

You know what gets me about Hancock’s strongroom?

There’s not much actually in there.

Obviously there’s the odd assortment of randomly generated guns & ammo, plus the caps you get from Bobbi. that’s to be expected.

But Hancock practically says that’s not even where he keeps most of his caps anyway when he calls the 1000 caps he asks back for chump change.

The non-generated stuff is two fusion cores, two stealth boys….

But what’s mostly in there are some waters and what amounts to a random assortment of snack foods like Fancy Lads and Sugar bombs. Those are always there.

Right next to a sleeping bag that’s got a few wooden blocks next to it.

Conclusion?

We broke into Hancock’s hangover room that he goes to whenever he just wants some damn peace and quiet.

[spideypawz]

just picking flowers in a field

[cod-dump]

Price: How long until this thing can drive again?

Nik: Give me three hours. The lieutenant is thorough in his destruction of vehicles.

Gaz: Yeah, are you sure he's licensed?

Price: No...

[gomzdrawfr]

small habits

[reaping-the-benefits]

why is the idea of medic being secretly married to price my fav concept for a fic ever??? so need more on this

Idk but I'm right there with you, anon. (Secret married to Ghost is delicious too, but that's a thought for another day.)

You know Price told the team about you. It's in the way that Soap and Gaz start listening to you, respond with "Yes, ma'am/sir" to everything you say. Ghost is the only that spills, telling you everything Price told them at the pub.

Your poor, poor husband has no idea the world of trouble he's in, currently in his office. But he can sense a sudden shift in the air, and lets out the most tired sigh when you come storming in.

"Johnathan."

"Love."

"I can't believe you told the team-" and really, once you've started, there's no stopping. You don't mind him telling the team about your union, but your sex life? What happens in your bed is strictly between the two of you. You're angry, a little embarrassed, and maybe feeling just a smidge bratty.

For what it's worth, Price lets you go on this tirade, watching with a mildly amused expression that only makes you more upset.

"Come here, love," he commands, patting his lap.

You hesitate for a moment, before doing as you're told, settling onto your husband's thighs, a frown almost permanently on your face. Hard to keep it up though, when a large hands slides down your back, settles on your hip, the heat of it seeping through your uniform.

"Didn't tell them anything besides the fact I'm keeping you happy. Those muppets don't need to know anything else," he says to you, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. He presses a kiss under the shell of your ear, soft and sweet. You can't help but giggle a little, trying to squirm away, when his beard tickles your skin.

Price tuts, pulling you closer to him, settling your weight over his own hips. "Little brat," he huffs, and that makes you laugh again.

[paris-in-space]

Van helping saying the "I think we're gonna have to kill this guy" meme at Lucy's boyfriend squad when they have to kill Lucy because suffer

It’s a little rough because I wasn’t using my usual setup, but here you go