#John Price x Male reader

[andromeda-pleiades]

Captain's Favorite

WORD COUNT: 2,183

PAIRING: John Price x NB!Oc

This is a rewrite that I felt I could do justice. I also am releasing an OC list and writing this longer story help with ideas

In one of the more secluded briefing rooms, Captain John Price stood at the head of the table, his commanding presence unshaken by the dim, flickering light above. The mission had taken an unexpected turn when the terrorist organization relocated their base to a fortified ship in international waters. The Navy intervened, sending one of their best—Captain Bee.

Price had already dealt with Bee in the past. They were capable, yes, but their constant need to challenge him grated on his patience, while beneficial in some cases it usually ended with the both of them making a fool of themselves. Beside him, Captain Bee leaned against the table, their arms crossed and expression tight. Though they often came across as confident and collected, their narrowed eyes betrayed a flicker of unease at standing so close to Price.

“John,” Bee began, their voice sharper than usual, “my team and I are clearly better suited to lead this mission. We've already reviewed the terrain, the approach, and the objectives.”

Price raised an eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to just step back and follow orders, yeah?” He crossed his arms, his gaze meeting theirs. “This isn’t about who’s better suited. We’re both here. Get on board.”

Bee bristled, their cheeks heating slightly as they looked away. “You’re impossible.��� they muttered, messing with the jewelry that adorned thier fingers.

Why does he always get under my skin?

“You’ve said that before,” Price replied, his tone gruff but with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t bother me then, either.”

Bee glared at him, their frustration bubbling over. “You’re so full of yourself. Just stay out of my way.”

“I’ll do my job,” Price shot back, his voice firm. “You focus on doing yours.”

The room fell silent as the two locked eyes, their teams exchanging awkward glances. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz sat on one side, while Bee’s five—Coma, Harpy, Hold em', Torres, and Quinn—occupied the other. Soap leaned toward Ghost, muttering, “Think we’ll make it outta here before they kill each other?”

Ghost didn’t bother responding, his masked face unreadable.

Bee eventually turned back to the table, taking a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” They went over the plan in clipped tones, detailing the approach to the ship, the entry points, and the objective: securing the stolen intel and disabling the ship's communications.

Price listened silently, occasionally nodding, but his stern expression never wavered. When Bee finally finished, he leaned forward slightly, his voice cutting through the tension. “One thing, Bee. My team doesn’t sit back and watch. We’ll take point on the comms. You can handle the extraction.”

Bee’s eyes flashed. “Fine. Just don’t slow us down.”

Price gave a short, gruff laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The room emptied quickly, soldiers moving with practiced efficiency. Bee lingered, adjusting the straps of their gear as Price’s heavy footsteps echoed behind them. “Hope you’re ready,” he murmured, voice low.

The moon hung low over the dark sea as the teams approached the ship in separate boats. Bee’s five-member team cut through the water silently, their movements precise and rehearsed. Price’s trio followed close behind, Soap keeping an eye on the horizon while Gaz and Ghost prepped their gear.

As they reached the ship’s hull, Bee gave a quick signal to their team. “Harper, Torres, up first. Clear the Deck.”

Price watched from his boat, his jaw tightening. “Ghost, Soap, cover them. Gaz, with me.”

Bee shot him a glare as they started climbing the rope ladder. “Didn’t I say my team would handle the Deck?”

“And I said we don’t sit back,” Price replied evenly, hoisting himself up behind Ghost.

The Deck was cleared in seconds, Bee’s team securing the perimeter while Price’s team moved toward the communications tower. Bee followed, keeping a wary eye on Price. His movements were steady and efficient, and as much as they hated to admit it, he made it look easy.

“Torres, Hold em',” Bee whispered into their comms. “Stay sharp. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

Price’s voice crackled over the shared channel. “Ghost, get those comms down. We’ll sweep the upper levels.”

Bee clicked their tongue, irritation flaring. He’s always got to take charge, doesn’t he?

As the teams moved closer to the ship the energry started to get a little more competitive

“Got two hostiles down in the control room,” Gaz reported.

“Already cleared three in the storage bay,”Harpy countered smugly.

Price shot a glance at Bee, who scowled. “Don’t look at me. Just because my team’s better doesn’t mean I’m keeping track,” they muttered, though their tone was laced with pride.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Price muttered under his breath.

The teams had split momentarily, each taking different routes through the ship. Bee led their team down a narrow corridor toward the engine room while Price’s trio moved to secure the communications tower.

As Bee rounded a corner, their comm crackled to life. “Bee,” Price’s gruff voice came through. “How’s your end looking?”

“Fine,” Bee replied curtly, pausing to let Harpy and Hold ‘Em clear the next section. “We’ve taken out five hostiles already. You?”

“Seven,” Price answered, his tone laced with challenge.

Bee scoffed. “Yeah, sure you did.”

“Think I’m lying?” Price’s voice was firm, but Bee knew the subtle tease hidden in his tone. That familiar mix of irritation and something else—something they didn’t want to acknowledge—tightened their chest.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bee shot back. “Odds are in our favor.”

A beat of silence, then Price spoke again, his voice low and deliberate. “Tell you what—let’s make it interesting. Whoever racks up the most head counts owes the other. Call it... rights to brag for the next op.”

Bee smirked despite the heat creeping up their neck. “Bragging rights? That’s dull. If I win, I want something better. I want the ‘Ole Special.’”

For the first time, Price chuckled—deep, rough, and unexpectedly warm. “The ‘Ole Special’? You serious?”

“Dead serious.” Bee adjusted their grip on their weapon, willing their pulse to steady. Why does he always have this effect on me?

Price laughed again, the sound crackling through the comms. “Alright, fine. But when I win, you’re gonna swallow those words.”

Bee rolled their eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Big talk, John. Let’s see if you can back it up.”

“Always do,” Price replied gruffly, before the comms went silent.

The bet fueled the tension as the mission progressed. Bee’s team was meticulous, moving with precision and clearing each section swiftly.

“Two down in the engine room,” Torres reported over the comms.

“Three more in the storage bay,” Harpy added smugly.

Bee smirked despite themself. “Let’s keep it up. We’re not losing to them.”

Their comm crackled with Price’s voice. “Nineteen so far. How about you?”

Bee froze. “What? That’s not possible.”

“Calling me a liar again, Bee?” Price’s tone was sharp, his gravelly voice carrying that faint trace of humor that made Bee’s blood boil.

“I’m calling you delusional,” Bee snapped, even as their stomach flipped at the sound of his voice.

“Careful,” Price warned, his voice dropping an octave. “You’ve still got time to catch up—barely.”

Bee growled under their breath. “Coma, Quinn, double-time it. We’re not losing to them."

By the time the safe was cracked and the intel secured, the teams gathered at the extraction point. Bee approached Price, their jaw tight and their pulse annoyingly erratic.

“Well?” they demanded, arms crossed on their chest “What’s the count?”

Price looked up from his weapon, his smirk barely visible under his thick beard. “Twenty-four for us. You?”

Bee hesitated. “…Twenty-three.”

Soap let out a whistle, grinning as he looked between the two captains. “Close one, eh?”

Price’s eyes twinkled as he stepped closer to Bee, his imposing frame cutting through the tension like a blade. “Looks like you owe me, Captain.”

Bee glared, heat rising to their cheeks. “Don’t push it, John.”

Price leaned in, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Told you you’d swallow those words.”

Bee’s face burned as they turned away, muttering, “You’re insufferable.”

Price’s low chuckle followed them into the chopper, settling in their chest like an ache they couldn’t quite shake.

The debrief room emptied quickly, chairs scraping against the floor as soldiers rushed out for their evening meal. Only Bee remained,a habit they picked up over the years, absently twirling the silver ring on their index finger. The familiar sound of Price's heavy boots stopped directly behind them.

"Come on, Bee," he murmured, voice low enough that only they could hear.

The walk to John's office would have been humiliating for anyone else—Price following close behind like a guard walking a prisoner to judgment. But Bee felt their pulse quicken with each step, trying to maintain their composure despite the anticipation building in their chest. It had been weeks since they'd been alone with John, and the tension between them had only grown.

Price settled against his desk when they arrived, arms crossed over his chest. The same knowing smirk from the debrief played at the corners of his mouth. "Well then," he drawled, "going to hold your end of the bet, or are you going to talk your way out of it again?"

Bee's eyes fell on the worn leather couch, memories of previous encounters flooding back. They grabbed one of the cushions and sank to their knees, having learned from experience that the hard floor left marks that were difficult to explain later. Their heart raced as they looked up at John, fighting to keep their expression neutral despite the heat building under their skin.

"I'm not going to do all the work for you, John," they said, proud of how steady their voice remained. Good, they thought, let him think I'm not excited.

John's smirk bloomed into a full smile as he began unbuckling his belt, the soft leather sliding through the loops with a whisper. "You know," he mused, "when you said you wanted the 'Ole Special,' I thought you would have tried harder to win." He traced their bottom lip with his thumb. "Guess you just love taking it."

The way Price's voice dropped when aroused sent shivers down Bee's spine, but they wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much power he held over them. Instead of responding, they maintained eye contact and ran their tongue along his length, satisfaction coursing through them when his words caught in his throat.

Their initial plan was to tease, to draw out the moment and maintain some semblance of control, but desire won out. Still, they forced themselves to move slowly, unwilling to reveal just how eager they truly were.

"Getting sloppy, Lieutenant," Price growled, his fingers holding the side of their head. The gentle grip turned firm as he took control, guiding their movements with increasing urgency.

Bee braced their hands against his thighs as he set a steady rhythm, the solid wood of his desk at their back. The office filled with a symphony of sounds—his low grunts, their muffled moans, and the wet sounds of their enthusiasm.

"Bloody hell, Lieutenant," Price gasped, holding them close until their nose brushed against him. "So tight and wet and obedient. So desperate you don't even care that our men are right outside

A moan vibrated in Bee's throat at his words, drawing a breathless groan from above as Price's grip tightened further.

His movements grew erratic, desperate, as he held them in place. With a final, deep thrust, Price stilled, his warmth flooding their throat as a guttural groan escaped him. Bee waited until his grip loosened before sliding back, a silvery strand briefly connecting them before breaking.

They coughed a few times, clearing their throat, then looked up at him with a cocky smirk. "You used to last so much longer," they teased, voice slightly hoarse. "Getting old, John?"

John tucked himself away, fastening his belt with practiced ease. His breathing was still slightly uneven as he looked down at them, noting the flush in their cheeks and the way their pupils were still blown wide. "Need any help with your... situation?" he offered, gesturing vaguely toward them.

Bee pushed themselves to their feet, brushing off their knees with affected casualness. "I think I'll save it," they said, smoothing down their uniform. "For next time." They stepped closer, close enough that Price could feel their breath against his ear. "When I'll have you on your knees for me."

They turned toward the door, hiding their situation. Before they could reach for the handle, Price's voice stopped them.

"Bee," he called softly, making them pause. "It was... nice to see you again. Like this."

Heat bloomed across Bee's cheeks at the unexpected tenderness in his voice. They didn't trust themselves to turn around, knowing the boyish smile spreading across their face would give away too much. Instead, they gave a quick nod and slipped out the door, their heart hammering against their ribs as they hurried down the corridor.

Only when they were safely around the corner did they allow themselves to smile

All banners by @cafekitsune

[starboye]

i full believe in my heart that captain price is a messy eater, but im talking eating you out, he could go hours at a time in-between your plush thighs, fucking your hole with his tongue and tasting how good you are, and nothing stops him from his endeavors

and when i say nothing i mean nothing, you try to close you legs to get him to stop? he's gripping your thighs open with such shere force it leaves slight marks or your try pushing his head away and he's both of your hands gripped tightly to stop it, nothing is stopping him from eating you out

and the beard just makes it a little worse, it has your legs twitching when he gets deeper and deeper, gripping his big hands around your hips to stop you from trying to climb backwards on the bed, he usually stops in the middle of his little meal just to lay kisses on the beard burns

looking up at you with those sultry eyes that make you fold so quick, letting him go for another hour or two before instantly regretting it, the way his tongue fucks you is just impeccable, you're starting to wonder what they really train in the military at this point because the skills this man has is just otherworldly

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about the most homophobic misogynistic dude bro talking shit, maybe it’s in the lock room with the rest of his friends, making a whole spectacle out of the two dudes he saw kissing or holding hands

Cw: forced feminization, 18+, top male reader, dom male reader

But you notice the way he shifts from one leg to another, eyes wandering over to your own almost as if fearing you’ll say something you shouldn’t -like how he’d showed up to your dorm last night, sober for once and with his hard on showing through his sweatpants, moments before you had him bouncing on your cock.

Despite having been the one to initiate things, he’d been reluctant to let you know he was enjoying it, with his teeth digging into his bottom lip to the point where blood was trickling down his throat, desperately trying to suppress any sort of noise from escaping his mouth. Hell he refused to move his hips on his own even though he’d been the one to tell you to hurry the fuck up and fuck his pretty little hole (five words you had coaxed forced out of the other man) You had to fuck him back onto your cock, nails digging into the plush skin and working him up and down your dick.

Not that you minded much especially not when he’d ever so often let out wails and whines and you could feel his walls clenching down on your cock and you didn’t waste a second asking if his pretty pussy likes that or if the pretty princess is feeling good. He’d only respond by telling you to shut the fuck up, even spat in your face once but hell that didn’t stop him from riding your dick till he finally reached his orgasm.

[princeguri66]

Back on my affectionate reader bullshit because I just want to smother those assholes with love.

TF 141 x Male! Reader

Kissing the homies goodnight.

18+ Minors DNI!

Cw: whole lotta fluff, it only gets suggestive at the end and that's it

It started with a joke. Gaz drunkenly saying "Hey, if I win will you give me a goodnight kiss?" Before you start a game of cards, you all laughed it off then. Until it starts getting later in the evening and when you excuse yourself to go to bed Soap calls out to you with a chuckle, "Ey, don't forget about Gaz's kiss" you trudge your way back to them eyes drooping. They all expect you to kick Soap or something akin to that, but you surprise them by leaning down and placing a kiss on Gaz's eyebrow before tiredly muttering a "goodnight" and walking away.

And if that didn't give them any ideas..

For the next week it was usually Soap and Gaz pestering you about your kisses being rewards.

"If I shoot all the targets will you give me a kiss?"

"If I beat him in this fight will you give me a kiss?"

It gives them such a boost of energy.

You don't expect anyone else other than them to ask you for one until you're watching a game on the telly with Ghost. "If my team wins, I want a reward like them" He says to you, referencing Soap and Gaz and you nod albeit a bit shocked.

And by a stroke of luck his team wins, you reward him with a kiss to his temple.

And when it comes to Price.. 

It occurred after a tough but successful mission, and it was all thanks to you. What you had to handle was rough but you still came back with minimal injuries.

After a quick check up and shower you head to the common room on base to lounge with your team, but when you just stepped in the area Price got himself up from the couch claiming he needs to get back to work. 

As he passed you he said a quick "Good job out there lad." And held you by your shoulder to pull you close and kiss you right on your cheek before walking away leaving you stunned.

The team saw it all of course, sitting still a bit stunned as well, seemed like your habit of kissing your homies rubbed off on the captain.

You were too focused on the lingering feeling of Price's beard scratching your face that you didn't hear Soap saying how that it's so unfair, how he also had a successful mission but didn't get a kiss from their dear captain, only realizing you've been standing there like an idiot this whole time when Soap ran past you trying to catch up with the captain to claim his well deserved prize.

And it just evolves from there, everyone gives each other kisses. 

It started off as conglatutory kisses like before, then it'll go to "kiss it better" kisses

(Like if Ghost trained so hard he gets bloody knuckles Price will kiss them better, or if Soap suffered an injury Gaz would be there to kiss his bandages, or if Gaz just had a rough day and is incredibly stressed you'd kiss his temple)

Then eventually everytime any of you are about to leave for a mission you all give a kiss to whoever's going for good luck, and when they come back it's those pushing mouth aggressively to cheek kisses happy that they came back alive and well.

And it goes to the point where any chance you get you'll exchange small kisses. Passing each other in the hall way? A kiss to the cheek. Finding each other in the kitchen late at night to grab a drink? A kiss on the forehead. One of you had a brutal nightmare? Boom, get kissed on your damn head, hell why not cuddle while you're at it? (You did cuddle while you're at it)

It doesn't take long for the kisses to trail closer to the lips, for the kisses to trail to your neck and collarbones as well. It doesn't take long for it to evolve from small pecks to heated make out sessions, desperate to feel each other's mouths even deeper. It doesn't take long for the five of you to end up swapping spit late at night, sloppily making out with whoever's mouth is open and wanting, stripping each other's clothes even with your mouth occupied.

After that it's no question to kiss the homies goodnight, hell it usually ends with more than a kiss.

[2kiran]

Hi‼️ lurker here‼️ just wanna say that your works are awesome‼️‼️ and that your dash always looks so cool and pretty every time I come around to check up on you‼️ your works are so good and you’re such a talented writer‼️

also… can I…can I ask for a tired reader being surrounded by a very demanding and needy 141? Like I’m not all that creative like the other anons but like I just really like the reader satisfying the 141s in any way his tired form can‼️ whether it’s by letting them ride his dick until they’re satisfied or having them being cock warmed as reader falls asleep‼️

sorry for this‼️ just thoughts and brain worms are weird rn and I thought that you would carry these out well… back to lurking now‼️

p.s. the ‼️ are just here to show excitement not to be scary or anything I’m sorry

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: bottom 141, top male reader, consensual somnophilia, cowgirl position, cockwarming, fingering, dividers

The weight of the missions and daily tasks being distributed made your limbs slack, eyes droopy, body boneless and desperate to pass out for even a week. You’re dozing off the second you sit down or rest against a wall, jerking awake when shaken by your mate. It isn’t your fault that you’re hardworking when needed, and everything was becoming a necessity to put your full attention on.

You need a break.

On the other hand, your team doesn’t seem to agree.

They’re clingy, more than usual. When you’re in a room with them, it seems as though their presence is the only thing that matters. Unabashedly acting like animals in heat, they’d sometimes even gently rut against your thigh.

Their excuse? You’ve been neglecting them, rarely glancing or facing towards their direction. Sometimes, you’d fail to acknowledge them in passing which evidently piles up their frustration and need to turn the source into the outlet.

And you’ll let them. They know you will.

Soap is the first one to snap. The man’s too needy for his own good. He can’t stop thinking about you, your hands wandering along his body, allowing him to take a sniff of pleasure before you’re shoving him away. But now? Now you’re doing it unintentionally.

He’s concerned, knowing damn well that he shouldn’t bother you. And yet, he can’t keep it within his pants. You’ll be good for him, right?

“Shit, tha’s it, love...” Soap groans, face contorting with blissful relief. He rolls his hips, desperate to feel every inch of your cock - the one that had him dreaming about it, waking up with his boxers damp, and hole twitching from being so empty - “Y’can get some shut-eye, ‘s alrigh’.”

You’re hanging onto your consciousness by a mere thread, the promise of slumber darkening the edges of your view while simultaneously heightening the sensation of slick, twitching warmth wrapped around your length. Small moans left him, thick brows knitted together in concentration.

Soap cannot remain still for the life of him. He sinks further down, enveloping you in his tight heat and squeezes you with it. His jaw hung open, mouth agape, and his thighs are quivering in a poor attempt not to fuck back against your cock with his desperate hole.

-

The second is Price. He may be a responsible and patient captain, but he’s still a man with lustful requirements. He needs to let off stream, you know?

“Hhang... that’s a good man.” He ruts his hips against yours, the plushy thickness of his scarred thighs rippling with each bounce. If you’re comfortable with it, he’ll take a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke slip through his teeth as a breathy moan rasps from his throat.

God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feel of you. Your tip meeting the spot that has him high with squelchy smacks, the scratchy stubble spread on his chin making the firm muscle of your shoulder raw whenever he angled himself forward to make you pound into him deeper.

Such a good soldier, you are. “Stay still, m‘fuckin’ close.” He huffs. Your cock twitches in response, and his lips curves in a self-satisfied grin. It has him riding you harder, rim taut, his pace fast and it makes the both of you dependent on chasing that point.

The Captain isn’t afraid to milk you for all you’re worth, either. It’s your own fault for making him needy. – “C’mon, you’ve got more in you, don’t you?”

-

Gaz is the next one. He heard your ‘interaction’ with the other men, smelled how Soap and Price practically reeked of well-deserved sex. It has arousal pool in his lower belly, dick twitching to life at the possibility of finally being satiated by you.

He’ll praise you for it; “Good boy, letting me use you like this.”, “Th-thank you, my love. Fuckin’ me so well.” and “Shh, I know. Go rest. I’ll just suck your pretty dick off, yeah?”

You think he’ll prep himself because you’re melting into the sheets to nap? No, you’re terribly wrong. He’d grip your wrist firmly, lubing your fingers up, and gently make them breach his tight hole. He gasps, immediately clenching from how intense it felt.

Gaz smiles fondly at how you seem to battle sleep, nodding mindlessly. When you do succumb to the urge, he’s biting his lip to contain his pathetic noises. You look so peaceful, and here he is fucking himself on your fingers. He’s holding onto your forearm, guiding you back and out. The murmurs of slick ringing through the room as he throws his head back.

“Fuckkk...” He’d mutter, fisting his own cock with rough jerks. Leaning down, he peppers kisses all across your jaw. He’s unbelievably turned on, rocking his hips to take in your digits completely. He’s getting desperate, but he will wait for you to wake up before he shoves your cock down his throat.

-

Ghost corners you. Sure, he’s got better self-control than the rest of the men. But hey, he’s still a human with very human needs.

Doesn’t matter if you’ve got a broader and hulking figure or a shorter stature, he’s guiding you with his frame until your knees hit the edge of a bed or a threadbare seat and your aching back is laying down. His mouth twitching in a mock snarl to have you submit. All with your consent, of course.

One of his favorite things to do to tease you? He loves to keep on asking you “This okay, luv?” and “Hmm? Y’want me to touch ya here?” until you’re begging him to finally fuck himself on your leaky dick that he’s been either playing with his roughened digits or warming with his inviting heat the entire time.

Rides you so slowly, hips rocking ever so slightly, and his soft walls pulse as they give way to your length. And it’s all to keep you awake, tightening up when you’re about to fall asleep on him. He wants you to be completely aware when he’s in the heights of arousal and he has you balls deep inside of him.

“Wake up, swee’art. Fuck– eyes on me, yeah, there we go.” / “Oh, you like tha’? Uh-huh? Good boy, you do.”

–

Or you have Price behind you, one of his arms slung around your waist as he thumbs at your slit until it’s coated in your pre. Soap’s tugging at your shaft, his fist enclosed and tight, consistent and oh so whiny like you’re inside of him. “Ye can fuck me harder, (rank), jus’ like this.”

Gaz on his knees, his tongue flicking at your sensitive veins. They’ll be toying with your cock as you lean back against the captain, letting sleep overtake you until you feel someone familiar climb into your lap. The other men supporting Ghost’s weight as he takes your dick in his skull-gloved hand, guiding the head to meet his rim and he sinks down with a low groan.

[midnightcrw]

Fight

Pairing: Ghost x Reader, Price x Reader, Soap x Reader, Gaz x Reader

Summary: Your child gets in trouble

a/n: This one is a little different from my usual ones, but I just felt like writing for all four of them. I'm not sure how accurate you'll all find them as I've deliberately exaggerated them, but I do believe that Gaz is a sassy man after seeing how he didn't want to shake Graves' hand. I've also named the children of the TF141, I hope that's okay with you all.

Scenario:

The moment you both heard that your child got in trouble, the first thing you two did was rush into the principal's office in fear that something happened.

And now you were both sitting in the principal's office with your child, while another child was there with his parents.

Ghost:

Your eyes widened as you heard the principal say that Daisy and another girl in her class had gotten into a physical fight.

"There was also something your daughter said that is completely unacceptable," Mr. Smith said, looking disappointed at Daisy, even though the girl apparently started the fight and your daughter was just defending herself.

"It wasn't even that bad..." Daisy muttered underneath her breath as she crossed her arms.

Simon was very quiet, but his stoic expression spoke for itself.

"Daisy, I want you to quote what you said," Mr. Smith continued, not wanting to hear another word from her unless she quoted exactly what she said to the girl.

Your daughter looked at you, a pleading look on her face but you just shook your head at her in disappointment, wanting to hear what she said.

She sighed and quoted what she had said before, "You have a face that only a mother could love."

Without missing a single beat, Simon started wheezing in his seat the moment he heard his daughter's insult to the girl.

You glared at him, "Simon!"

Trying to calm down, he put his palm on his mouth as he continued, completely ignoring the angry looks of the principal and the other family.

"Mr. Riley, I want you to calm down. This is highly inappropriate," Mr. Smith said as Simon calmed down.

A few seconds of silence passed between you all before your beloved husband opened his mouth.

"Did you win?"

"Simon!?"

Price:

It felt like hours as the girl's parents and the girl herself ranted and raved about the fact that your daughter Sophie punched her.

At first you had both been shocked, completely angry at your daughter until the parents opened their mouths to speak.

You almost fell asleep listening to the mother go on and on about how her daughter's nose was bleeding because of Sophie.

Price, on the other hand, sat still in his seat, listening to the whole thing, not having said a word since he walked into the principal's office.

"Your daughter should be suspended!" The father said, glaring at Sophie.

Mr. Smith didn't even get a single chance to say anything, as they continued.

Slowly, Price seemed to lose his patience and turned his head towards you and your daughter.

He whispered, "Punch her harder next time."

"What?" The principal asks.

"Nothing."

Price says as Sophie giggles at her dad.

You tried to stifle your grin by putting a hand over your mouth, just hoping that the parents would shut up soon.

Soap:

Your son sat between the two of you, his nose bleeding and his face bruised as he frowned at the boy and his parents.

You were extremely worried as you put a hand on your son, Callum's arm, and quietly asked him if he was hurt anywhere else.

Callum just shook his head, not wanting to speak while Soap was already getting bored listening to all of the talking the principal was doing.

"It doesn't matter if he started insulting him because Callum was the one who got violent," Mr. Smith said as you tried to defend your son.

The boy obviously looked much worse than Callum. His hair was disheveled and his face was bruised. His nose was also bleeding, as was his lower lip.

It looked like your son had done some damage.

"What exactly did he do?" Soap asked, wanting to know exactly how Callum had hit the boy.

As Mr. Smith explained what your son had done, Soap's eyes lit up and a smile appeared on his face.

"I'm so proud of you, you used the punch I taught you," Soap said, extremely pleased that Callum had listened and actually used the things he had taught him.

Callum grinned at his dad's antics as you put your face in your hands, sighing and muttering "Why did I marry this idiot..."

Gaz:

You were shocked to hear what your son, Ethan, had done to the boy.

Mr. Smith was obviously upset and angry that Ethan had acted so childishly, and immediately got into a physical fight the moment the boy wouldn't stop insulting him.

You felt the headache already pounding in your head as you rubbed your temple, completely out of it.

Ethan didn't really say anything, he just listened to everything that was said.

The boy's parents glared at the three of you, never once looking away.

The boy that insulted your son, looked angry, obviously still being pissed at the fact that Ethan punched him, even though he himself started with the insults.

Gaz was not even shocked, sitting there with his hand holding up his head up as he looked extremely uninterested in the principal's endless speech.

Rolling his eyes, Gaz moved closer to you and Ethan as he whispered.

"Did you break any of his bones?"

"No."

"Good, because I'm not paying anything in this economy."

[libingan]

soft price moments??? soft price moments!!!!

price who is so gentle towards you only!!! he doesn’t even try to hide it, he likes to show off how you get special treatment from him :)))

price who speaks to you with such a soft tone, always ensuring his words are soft and calm. even when you’ve managed to upset him, he never raises his voice or allows anger to seep into his words.

price treats you as if you’re made of glass, always hovering nearby and tending to your every need with meticulous care. he refuses to let you lift a single finger, insisting on doing all the work himself.

okay, maybe he’ll let you help out, but only with the lighter work! anything else, he’ll insist on doing on his own!

naturally, price’s gentleness towards you extends into your bedroom activities :)))

price fucks you so slow, yet so deep, thick cock filling you up to the brim while his hands begin tenderly caressing your body, whispering sweet words of love and praise into your ear…

“takin’ me so well, love… so good for me, yeah? god, you feel so amazing… that’s it, sweet thing, tighten up around me…”

even when you beg and plead him to go faster, try to convince him that you can take it, he won’t ever budge! he’ll click his tongue, gently grabbing your face to lean down and silence your pleas with a passionate kiss.

he would never ever think of hurting you! even if it’s all consensual, even if it’s something you enjoy :((( he just cant, his heart cant take it :(((

price reserves his rugged and formidable demeanor for the battlefield, never bringing that facade into your home. In his eyes, you are the epitome of purity and the most cherished presence in his life. the mere thought of accidentally tainting you is something he cant bear.

[omegapropaganda]

[miguel-owhora]

thinking about retired!price, so insatiable with nothing to do, fingering his cunt and grinding against pillows with your musk thick shirt pressed up against his nose. his body becomes softer with nothing to do, love handles forming and a bigger belly growing, with thighs soft and jiggly, and an ass so pretty and plush like a sweet, juicy peach.

you're still away on deployment, a couple years younger than price and still in your prime. you can't wait for the day where you finally retire, where you can spend the rest of your days with your husband.

but price can't wait—he's paranoid that someone else will get your attention and steal you away from him. someone younger, more attractive, and despite your reassurance that such thing won't happen, it eats away at him. so he does the only logical thing he can come up with.

when you come back on break, you have a hard time getting john off you. he's insatiable, his fingers running all over your body, more than happy to pull down your pants and lavish your cock in affection. he'll throw you onto bed, remind you why exactly he was captain, and milk you for all you're worth. he'll run you dry and keep on going, as if he was young again. and sure, his legs burn, exhaustion nips at him, but fuck, he'll keep on making you cum inside his pussy if it means he'll have your kids.

[fortheb0ys]

Bit of a prenap ramble...

I'm just imagining being the barracks bunny for the 141. Bunch of stressed out men with ALOT of needs to fulfill.

They pull you aside and get you to fuck them anywhere and everywhere. Showers, offices, military vehicles. There's been numerous times that get you to fuck them one by one in the aircraft back to base as the others watch in lustful awe as they jerk themselves.

Soap a bit more needing than the rest. The mission reports bearly touch before he's palming himself through his pants. He's already came once or twice before you reach his room. He'd milk you dry as you fuck into the early hours of the morning.

Ghost doesn't like to admit he likes the attention you give him. The way the burdens he feels melt away with each of your touches. You're one of the very few that are lucky to see his face yet alone to see his face completely fucked stupid.

Ghost and Soap, an otherwise close duo, fighting over who gets to be fucked first. The argument ending with your tongue deep in Soap's ass and Ghost riding your dick, them making as they do so.

Gaz on the other hand is a bit reserved to ask. It'll take till the stress boils over till he's begging. You treat him like the perfect man he is. Gentle and sweet. His eyes nearly tearing up as you lay soft kisses along his gorgeous body.

Price is a work first, fuck later kinda guy. You're moreso the one getting impatience for sex. He'd cockwarm as he does his paperwork, occasionally tightening his walls around when you get antsy. As a reward for a mission well done, you get to fuck your beloved captain on his desk.

[rv3rblog]

btw this is how price looks like when you facetime and ramble abt ur day at work and then go off track nd gossip w him. he is just so in love w u its sick !!

[thegnomelord]

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

[starboye]

imagine captain price who has to work overtime at the office doing paperwork but at least he has you, sat snugly on his lap clenching around him so tightly, he gives you a couple kisses along your neck and tells you he'll be done in a little

at this point it's been about two hours of him signing and checking files and you really needed him, rolling your hips on his laps every now and then to give him hints but every time he just tightly gripped your hip and told you to "sit still f'me darlin'"

it was getting so hard to stay sane when you had his thick cock planted inside you so well, you could see it bulging in your tummy a little bit, and him giving you kisses made it no better, only getting you needier and needier until you were whimpering for him to do anything to you

so look at you looking all pretty bent over his desk taking his fat cock to the hilt, pumping load after load into your tight hole, covering you in hickeys and marks and railing you until you were to fucked out to even think

price sitting you back on his lap and getting back to his work, giving you kisses to make sure you're still okay

[rodolfoparras]

Cw: 18+, sub male character, dom male reader, titjob,

Thinking about humiliation kinks where there isn’t any insecurity to target, like titfucking a guy with a big chest who’s only used to receiving compliments, confidence faltering right in front of your eyes when you ask him how he expects you to cum when there isn’t anything to fuck, even going as far as to pinch and squeeze his tits like they’re the smallest thing you’ve seen just to watch his eyes widen in panic before he’s frantically pushing them together trying to desperately convince you that he can make you cum just give him a chance, sir please!

“Go ahead,” is all you say and it doesn’t take much before you got your cock and balls gliding across his chest, tits rubbed raw since you won’t let him use any lube as aid, with the sweet thing already out of breath because he’s working oh so hard since he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

“This all you got?” You say pretending to be unaffected but the way his tits engulf your cock is a sinful sight, with only the tip peaking out on the other side, and you can’t help but think how his slick skin is sucking you in like a hungry cunt, nipples hard as pebbles and grazing your sensitive cock with every thrust and before you know of it you’re rapidly inching closer to your orgasm.

Yet you purposely hold off on him, finding joy in the way the look of panic grows on his face , now using both his hands and mouth because really, what if his tits aren’t enough to make you finish?

Teeth nip your tip as he erratically sucks your dick, face a mix of spit and pre because sweet thing has never had to work like this, one shaky hand fondling your balls while the other gropes his tits, even watching the way he erratically thrusts his fat tits into the air because you refuse to do any work for him , all while you’re standing there looking absolutely unaffected by his efforts

Eventually tears start lining his eyes apologize tumbling past his mouth because no matter what he just can’t seem to make you cum “m sorry, ‘m so sorry sir” he blabbers out and you have to suppress the smile on your face as you caress his head, a gesture meant as comforting coming off in a condescending way before you tell him he just has to make up for it in some other way.

You watch the realization dawn on his face as he register your words before he scrambles to turn around for you, ass in the air, head on the floor, hungry hole on full display for you.

“Good boy,”

[princeguri66]

Reader who whenever on break or on leave or whatever would cook for the whole task force because he can't STAND British food. like whatever they serve in the mess hall he'd definitely eat it but when it's reader's off day or the whole tf141 is having a break he'd refuse opting to cook himself.

And when he does it's a blessing to the task force, they'd wait patiently for the next time they can go on leave just so they can have reader's cooking. Like I bet some of those mfs would still like some beans on toast or some shit but they'd want reader specifically to cook for them (says it tastes better when he makes it)

They pay by being the ones who buy groceries and materials for you to cook, it's like you're their personal chef and they love you for it.

Can you just imagine the domesticity of it all? Where you cook doesn't matter, it could be on base or your own flat.

You're watching over the stove, multiple dishes cooking at the same time to make sure you could fill up the bellies of five (including yours) grown men.

Gaz usually being the most helpful out of the bunch. Like you're too busy fussing over the steak that's searing on the pan he's making sure the fries don't burn.

Ghost would only be allowed on ingredient prepping duty, like chopping vegetables or grating cheese because he almost burnt the kitchen down with his mishandling over the stove.

Soap being the one who'd get whatever ingredient you need, like if you need to add more salt he'd dash from where he was sitting to right beside you with the salt shaker.

And with all that going on of course the dishes would pile up and Price would do the dishes, in between the cooking and after eating.

Idk I'm sorry this became a weird thing abt how the others would behave when you lot cook together I'm just brain dumping 😔

[italktoomuchxd]

“Cmon love…eat”

“I’m on a diet John”

“Being on a diet and starving yourself are different things y/n”

“I’m already fat I don't wanna-“

“Fat?!”

That’s it! He’s taking you to bed laying on your stomach as he peppers you with kisses telling you how beautiful you are and he doesn’t even say this to make you feel better in his eyes you’re the perfect one