#Pricesoap

[yakowo]

Commission for @/tamagoart on twt! 💤💕

[rawme-price]

Say what u want but price has totally made his sargeants get off on his boot while he smokes, enjoying the show while they beg and whine to at least get their mouth on him lol.

[tamago-art]

Kisses from the captain 🥰

[tanked-up]

Soap: So pretty

Ghost: Are you flirting with me?

Soap: Yes

Ghost: Don’t ever do that again

*Soap leaves*

Price: Ghost-

Ghost: I need him so bad

[oldrainfall]

Price's Section

Main post & Soap, Ghost, and Gaz’s parts: here

Price — Quality time, acts of service/receiving gifts, and to a lesser extent physical touch.

Price — Quality time. Having good company is one of John’s few indulgences in his life, he swears up and down it’s how he’s managed to keep his head on relatively straight this whole time. Like Ghost he doesn’t exactly trust easy, keeps a very tight knit circle, but anyone within that little circle? He trusts his life with. John never fully lets his guard down, but with the people he cares about, he does ease up, even if it’s only a bit. Pair that with his other indulgences (a good cigar and a bit of drink) and he’s well on to a nice relaxing evening. Just being around the people he cares about is more than enough to make him content.

It’s the little things, you know?

Ghost often finds his way into John’s office, or vice versa. One will barely look up from their paperwork as the other comes in, and goes about getting out their small stash of whiskey and pouring out two glasses, setting the bottle on the desk between them as they take the empty chair in front of it. They’ll just share a quiet drink, occasionally exchanging low words over the rim of a glass, though neither man feels the need to force conversation. The company seems to take some of the monotony out of the paperwork, at least a little. And after a while, Ghost starts seeing to that John actually makes it to his quarters, instead of falling asleep at his desk like he was prone to on occasion, with little more than, ‘Ain’t good for a man yer age to be sleepin’ like that, Cap,’ for an explanation of why his lieutenant saw it fit to chaperone him to his room, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder the entire way, despite the fact that John wasn’t even remotely drunk enough to require it.

Before John forms the 141, and during its early days, Ghost also has a penchant for showing up to his quarters whenever he can't sleep (whether that be because of his insomnia, or he just had a nightmare that he can't quite fully shake himself from) and would often haunt the foot of his bed until morning, or curl up next to him, making the most out of what little space there was. Occasionally they'd talk softly, if only so John could distract him for a little while and try to get Ghost's mind off whatever it was keeping him up, but more often than not they'd just quietly take solace in the other's presence.

Soap regularly takes smoke breaks with John, even though he doesn’t smoke on them. The first time it happens, it’s purely coincidental; Soap just happened to be coming back from working the rookies into the dirt, and John was taking a break from going over incident reports before he went cross eyed, or before the written English word lost all meaning, with a well earned cigar. He had seen John, and had come up to say hello— simply staying and chatting until John was done, and heading back inside with him.

After that, every time stepped out for a smoke break, Soap followed suit, getting up and trailing after him. For a few weeks John was fairly certain Soap was just pulling out the exact same cigarette he had bummed from Gaz one day from his pocket, as it gradually got more and more crumpled each time they went out. Soap never bothered to even try asking John for a light, and had denied him the one time he had offered it. Eventually, it got so bad bits of tobacco were falling out of it, and the time after Soap showed up with a proper box of cigarettes— and still no lighter. Despite the blatant paper thin excuse, Soap’s idle chatter always manages to make something ease in John’s shoulders that he hadn’t even realized was tensed.

Gaz spends a lot of time around John, eats with him most often in the mess, spends the most time in his office, and seeks him out a lot to get his opinion on various aspects of the rookies’ training, or for plans on ops. He also more often than not ends up sitting right next to John on the helo back to base; once Gaz had even fallen asleep on John’s shoulder after a mission that had them all spending a few miserable weeks in the jungle, John swears to god he’s never sat stiller in his entire life. At first Gaz had been mildly embarrassed about it— though John was quick to wave it off. It’s not like he had minded any, John simply assured Gaz that he had more than earned a little shut eye.

Of course, since they sit next to each other so much, it happens again. The four of them had crammed onto the couch in the common room, watching some kind of bullshit movie or other, and Gaz’s head has begun to dip forwards as his eyes kept fluttering shut, before he’d snap them back open, and focus back on the piss poor TV quality. It was an uphill battle that Gaz didn’t end up winning, his head lolling to the side, and once more coming to rest on John’s shoulder. (Soap was the next to loose the fight, even though he picked the bloody movie, and ended up falling asleep on John’s other shoulder, with his legs tangled in Ghost’s. They all ended up sleeping there that night.)

See Ghost’s post for how how Price handles acts of service— here

Read that? Okay, cool. (Thank you :] )

How Price handles giving gifts very much plays into how he handles acts of service, often going hand in hand. John is a very practical man, and I don’t think he’d often show affection by giving frivolous gifts, everything he buys would have to be useful to the person he was giving it to. New set of knives for Ghost after he lost (read: left wedged in some enemy soldiers) some in the field, refill of some skin care whatcha-call-it for Gaz that he saw in his quarters and that he knows he likes, a new set of good pens for Soap once he sees him fighting to get the last bits of ink out of a ballpoint while writing in his journal, etc.

His favourite gifts to receive are ones that follow that same sort of logic; a fresh box of his favourite cigars, new gloves after his got torn up on an op, someone stocked up on his preferred brand of tea, a new bottle of his cologne, a mug with something written on it (he doesn’t care what it says, it’s good at holding liquid all the same).

Something warm always settles in his chest every time he sees someone using a gift that he had gotten them, stretching lazily and curling up against his sternum like a pleased cat.

And the feeling only gets stronger when they get him something he likes in turn; he finds it comforting that they know him well enough to get him something he genuinely enjoys.

Physical touch is something Price is used to in small bursts, usually on the field, he’s no stranger to clapping someone on the shoulder, or patting them as he walks by, it’s a habit, a way to reassure whomever he’s being affectionate with, while steadying himself. (If you’re reading this I’m assuming you’re fixated on MW enough to be familiar with the Price pat™️, if not, you can find that post: here)

When it comes to romantic relationships, I feel as though the way he physically expresses affection is very similar— lots of gentle shoulder squeezes as he walks by, or pats. If they’re somewhere crowded he might rest his hand on the back of their arm, or even take their hand in his own so they don’t get separated, and if they hold hands long enough, he might absently brush the pad of his thumb over their knuckles, especially if he’s focused on doing something else, like fighting with his phone to try to navigate around.

He doesn’t do it as often, but he wouldn’t shy away from kissing their hands or face either when he walks up to them, or if he's just quickly passing by.

[forestshadow-wolf]

Soap = dog of the 141

Everyone is protective of him, borderline possessive of him (ghost nost of all). And all of them with a hand on the back of his neck, scruffing him while he bares his teeth. Like when Price grabs him by the neck before he can make a move with a gruff "MacTavish" and anger in his eyes. Like when Gaz holds him with a hand at his nape and a "cool it" like river water, smooth and inevitable. Like when Ghost grips at the base of his hairline, pulling him down so the top of his head thunks against his shoulder with a "not yet", taming the wildest of fighting dogs, the ones with a bloody muzzle, and threat behind his eyes.

[cristaq]

Og Soap learnt to tone down his Scottish accent while away from home. It’s not something that he did consciously, it was more of a way to adapt to the people that he was interacting with.

One day Price catches Soap speaking to his family on the phone and holy shit, he could not pick up a single word. He was like a whole other person. Price had no idea that Soap’s voice could have these inflections.

As their relationship deepens, Price catches him slipping up sometimes. A “grand” here, a “wee” there… He watches these displays with a warm smile he didn’t realise he was capable of.

After more time spent together, rescuing each other from the claws of death time and time again, Soap wakes up a bit groggy and throws some Scottish phrases at Price. He doesn’t understand a word. But, what he does understand is that Soap feels at home with him. He is family. And the two could not love each other more.

[inkystaar]

pricesoap is so important to me because wdym soap’s world dims and he’s ready to die when it looks like price is dead. what do you mean his world immediately brightens once price moves. like hello can anyone hear me

[lay-z]

pricesoap 😩

This is for you, hon. Thanks for always matching my freak 🩷

Pairing: John Price x 🐇 hybrid!Reader x John MacTavish

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Hybrid AU; bimbo!fem!Reader; military issued emotional support hybrid; smut; soft dom!Price; abrupt ending (sorry!)

When you were assigned to the 141 as their lovely and incredibly submissive emotional support bunny hybrid, Johnny ended up bonding with you in an instant while it took his teammates a moment to warm up to something so utterly sweet and docile like you.

And while Simon and Kyle were less brash in their approach to your service as their ESH, Johnny thrived in your presence—seeking out your attention and affections every chance he gets while steadily falling for your buzzing energy and immaculate good vibes.

And on top of that—you matched his freak with equal fervour.

In fact, so much so, that for the first time in his life, it’s actually Johnny who ends up tapping out first while you continue to bounce on his spent and poor overstimulated cock with blissfully wild abandon.

And when it gets to a point where Johnny reports late for duty thrice in a row—dark circles now dulling his naturally bright eyes while he foolishly tries to refuel his dehydrated body with a deadly mix of black coffee and energy drinks—it’s Captain Price who finally steps in to prevent his Sergeant from ending up in the med bay with a broken prick and a rupture.

And Price takes Johnny aside after a long briefing, having watched him fidget and squirm in his seat, fully aware that he’s just dying to dig his meaty fingers into the plush fat of your hips while burying himself deep into your giving cunt.

The Captain knows, because he’s been there, too.

“You gotta slow down with our girl, son,” he chides the younger man eventually, steely eyes boring into bright blue ones to get his point across. “She’s not some mindless fucktoy for you to use every night. She’s part of the team and I need you to respect her position–”

Oh, but Johnny respects your position, alright.

When Price notices Johnny’s wandering gaze and drifting thoughts, he brings his hand up to curl around the man’s neck, giving him a firm squeeze that leaves Johnny gasping with wide eyes as the Captain leans in closer: “Fuckin’ focus, Sergeant. I’m not gonna say it again, understood?”

Johnny nods, barely able to move while Price basically scruffs him. “A-aye, sir!”

Price huffs through his nose, pleased by his Sergeant’s stammered answer before he loosens his grip around his thick neck.

“Good,” he grumbles, giving Johnny a firm few pats on the shoulder. “My place at 2100 sharp tonight… and don’t you dare be late, MacTavish.”

Johnny shows up ten minutes early, still shuddering with the memory of his Captain’s strong hand around the nape of his neck, gooseflesh pebbling on his skin underneath his civilian clothes.

When he knocks on the front door of Price’s private quarters, it takes less than a minute before the door swings open, revealing the Captain himself; wearing a pair of comfortable slacks and a black polo with the buttons left open and dark coarse chest hair peeking out through the gap.

“Evenin’, sir,” Johnny greets him, already looking past the older man’s broad shoulder, expecting to hear Simon and Kyle inside—and hearing none of their familiar voices. His thick brows furrow in confusion, but Price merely chuckles gruffly, shaking his head and taking a step aside to let his Sergeant in.

“Come in and wait in the living room. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Ever the obedient soldier, Johnny does as Price says—only the freeze on the threshold to the dimly lit room once he spots you sitting on the black brown leather couch, all pretty and clad in his favourite pair of matching lingerie—the pale pink set he’d gifted you not too long ago.

He expected a surprise poker night with Price and the lads, but not—this. Definitely not this.

“Johnny!” you exclaim, eyes shining with the kind of raw adoration for him that has his cock twitch in his boxers like a Pavlovian response.

“Hi, my bunny,” he greets you, somewhat breathlessly, as he approaches the couch. He has no right to question why you’re here—you belong to the rest of the 141 as much as you belong to him—but your presence, after what Price had told him today, makes his stomach tie into nervous knots.

When he bends at the hip to steal a kiss, you eagerly meet him half-way, straightening your spine as he cups your face with one hand and pets one of your floppy bunny ears with the other; thick fingers brushing over the soft, creamy-beige fur.

He can feel you smile against his lips as your hands reach up to grab fistfuls of your shirt, keeping him in place as you try to deepen the kiss. Johnny can only groan, resolve melting like stick of butter in the sun, while the thought of his superior’s presence is pushed into some uninteresting parts of his busy brain—

“MacTavish,”

Johnny freezes, eyes flying open at the reprimanding growl coming from his Captain before he gently pries your hands from his shirt to pull back, ignoring your protesting whine with a tug on his heartstrings.

Price saunters into the living room, one hand shoved into his pants pocket, the other holding onto a freshly lit cigar. “I’m disappointed, but not surprised,” he says before taking a slow puff.

Out of habit, Johnny stands at attention—broad shoulders squared, spine stiff, feet squeezed together, and you giggle behind him before he can throw in a salute on top of it all.

“At ease, Sergeant,” Price says with a quiet, amused snort before nodding his chin in your direction. “Be a darling and strip for us, aye? We’re going to do what we’ve talked about earlier, sweetheart.”

When Johnny glances over his shoulder, one thick eyebrow raised in question, you only nod obediently as you unclasp your lacy bra with practiced ease and letting it drop onto the carpeted floor haphazardly.

“Uh, Cap’n,” Johnny croaks out, swallowing hard while his throat is rapidly drying up as he looks back at Price for some guidance—or a proper revelation about what the bloody fuck is going on here. “Wh–What is goin’ on here? If ye wanna spend tonight with our girl, Ah’d completely understan’, ye know, but–”

And then Price steps up to Johnny, and whatever words he thought about saying, immediately die on his lips when the Captain blows a plume of smoke while pushing his warm hand against Johnny’s sternum.

“I’m gonna teach ya how to properly fuck our girl, Sergeant.”

[gothghostiie]

@pricegotmedickmatized gave me brain worms and now everyone has to suffer through it

based off of what she had to say about this

cw: poly!141, anal, fingering, dacryphilia, impact play (spanking, slapping), hair pulling, humiliation, spit, manhandling, condensation, degrading, overstimulation, toys, mild bondage, mean/cruel!price, soaps ass is referred to as cunt exclusively, simon is a sweet lil crybaby, price is a dom and his subs have yet to unionise

now the sweet boys are in trouble and need to be set straight. and how else would he do that but to take one of the things they love most and turn it on them? price isn't stupid, he's cruel. he can be anyway. and the boys know theyre in for it when price calls them into his office and he's sat with his arms crossed, desk empty save for some scattered papers and notes, cigar in his mouth. they knew this was coming, they just didn't know when or how. now they're gonna find out.

"boys." his tone is low and surprisingly gentle, with just a hint of condensation. they know they majorly fucked up with what they did, not even begging and pleading will help them now, they dont even try. "you don't learn, do you?" he sighs and stands up, bones cracking in the process. "my father always used to say 'if you won't listen, you'll have to feel'. and you havent veen listening very well, have you?" they collectively shake their heads, John hums. he eyes them over for a moment, then knocks on the desk to get their attention. "Kyle, John. Sit down." he commands, they both do like eager dogs. Simons stomach forms a pit, he knows he's first and he knows why.

"Simon." Price snaps him out of his thoughts. "over here." he taps his desk with his thick fingers, one hand rummaging through the usually locked drawer of his desk, pulling out a bottle of lube. Simon walks over without a word and bends over the desk, hands fiddling with his belt before pulling his pants down just enough to show his chubby buttcheeks, then he tucks his arms under his head. Price chuckles. "Attaboy." he hums, lubing 3 of his fingers up before letting some of the cold liquid dribble down Si's crack.

The big guy shivers, burying his masked face in his arm quietly as price rubs his tight pucker gently. "you all remember your safewords?" Price asks into the room, they all give a quiet 'yes captain', he nods with a pleased hum; then sinks two fingers past the resistance of the muscle. Si groans, tensing up ever so slightly as Price works him open carefully, taking his time to make sure it wont hurt too bad. Simon usually isnt the culprit of these stupid ideas and John knows it, but unfortunately for him breaking the biggest, toughest of them and making him crumble before even touching the others strikes a good amount of fear into the two younger men.

"there, there." he coos quietly, almost dismissively as the man cries out while adding a third finger, his free hand patting the scarred hip. the others watch closely, Johnny is already hard as a rock while kyle still watches in anticipation and a bit of fear, knowing that Price is getting out the big guns here.

"take it." Price warns before replacing his fingers with his cock, slowly pushing in inch by inch. Simon bites the sleeve of his hoodie to muffle the pathetic groan that comes from the back of his throat, but it's no use when Price starts thrusting and he starts moaning. John knows exactly how to drive each of them up the wall and he's not afraid to use it - its long, hard strokes for simon, big hands gripping the bigger body tightly to make sure he feels himself under control of someone smaller than him.

"don't know why you keep doin' this.." John murmurs, breathing harder already. "letting these two knuckleheads get you into trouble with them.. you don't even join them, but they always tell you their little plans - and instead of telling me like a good boy you just let them drag you into this mess." Price snorts as simon whimpers, thrusts growing harder. "could just come to me and get rewarded for telling me what they're up to - you could be watching them get punished right now while you're allowed to use your favourite toy - but you didn't tell. you're not a little snitch." Simons back muscles tense, he's so sensitive when he's not ghost.

"now look at you.. you're already crying aren't you?" he chuckles, patting Simons ass like you would pet a dog. "you're so easy to break. always have been, haven't you?" a sob emerges from the bunched up fabric, price chuckles as he angles his thrusts different, now hitting Simons prostate harshly, making him jump and whine like a hurt puppy. it doesnt take long before simons hips start twitching and trying to pulm back, but before he knows it he's cumming into his own bunched up clothes with a hiccup. John thrusts a few more times before pulling out slowly, watching the reddened hole cling to his cock. "it's alright, don't you worry. I like my boys weak."

He pats his hip one more time before letting him get up, eyes wet and red, getting pitiful looks from the other two - at least until price's voice catches their attention once again. "Kyle." he nods to his desk and kyle gets up with a mix of fear and excitement; soap frowns as his painfully hard cock twitches again. he's not sure what's in this for him; considering it wasn't his idea. he did go along with it but it wasn't his idea, so that should count for something. right?

"Strip." fuck. kyle feels his face get hot and starts stripping down until hes naked, hes smart enough to not question whether underwear needs to go too. once hes bare he bends over the desk. Price makes a short process out of it, grabbing cuffs from the drawer and cuffing his hands behind his back before grabbing the lube again and stretching Kyle's hole out too. he's a bit more rough than with simon but not by much, instead letting his fingers immediately find his prostate, sending shivers down his spine. the feeling gets kyle hard and leaky within record time, giving a disappointed groan, earning him a slap on the ass from price. "dont you groan at me." he says with a strict tone, making kyle flinch a bit.

"Sorry Cap.." another slap, no words. "Fuck- I'm sorry Captian!"

"that's better." he sinks his cock into the tight hole without warning, making him arch his back. he holds still and kyle things he's getting time to get used to the feeling of being stretched, to calm down a moment - but just when he does he feels price reach underneath his hips, followed by the feeling of something cold, tight wrapping around his cock. Kyle's eyes widen as he realises what's happening, but Price already starts thrusting into him, quick hollow strokes that force the younger man to thrust into the fleshlight underneath him, eyes rolling back and head lolling forward. the sight makes John chuckle, shaking his head. "already? really?" he asks with an amused tone, moving the fleshlight in time with his own hips. it send kyle drooling and moaning shamelessly, his orgasm coming quicker than he'd like - but Price doesnt stop and Gaz knows what he's doing now. a desperate look crosses his face when he feels his balls tighten again within just minutes.

"Captain-"

"shut it." He immediately pipes down, putting his head down. "you brought this on yourself." Kyle knew he was right, unfortunately. he whimpers as the second orgasm washes over him, making him twitch and tremble under price's relentless thrusting. He shakes his head, trying to get some kind of plea out, but all that sounds through the room is a gurgled cry, followed by a dark chuckle. "just one more, then I'll stop fucking you." Price promises, kyle nods weakly. The thrusts grow deeper, he squeezes the fleshlight tight to make it harder for the poor boy.

"Takin it good, aintcha? always were good at taking what you deserve." he hums, squeezing the muscular ass he's thrusting into. "such a pretty boy. a shame you're such a brat - or more that you're dragged along so easy. can't think for yourself, can you?" Price groans as kyle clenches around him. "so easy to talk into things.. you're not even putting up a fight against me now, even if you feel like you're gonna pass out." another gurgled moan from Kyle. "yea, yea, keep telling yourself that pretty boy."

a few more thrusts send him over the edge once again and Price actually holds his promise - he does pull out and stops fuckinh kyle, but of course that wouldn't be a proper punishment. no, instead he grabs a midsized vibrator, using some of the leftover lube from Kyle's stretched hole to slick it up. John makes a show of it just to taunt johnny, who's squirming in his seat, eagerly waiting for his 'punishment' - price knows its impossible to properly punish the little pervert without him enjoying it too much.

gently pushes the toy into Kyle's ass and throws simon the remote, he knows the rules - don't turn it off unless he tells him to, don't let him have too much fun, don't keep it on the same setting too long. price helps kyle put on his boxers, making sure the fleshlight stays firm on his cock, tucked under the waistband in front. he helps him stand up and almost sends him on his way - but not without putting a pair of clamps on his nipples, the one with little bells on them. gives them a little flick, drawing a wince from Kyle before finally letting - or rather making - him sit down.

he glances at soap now, whos practically been dry humping the air up until now. "here, boy." his tone is much stricter. the whole thing was soap's idea and he knows it, sometimes he wonders if the pervert gets in trouble on purpose. the man beams and gets up, losing his clothes on the way already, scattering them across the office. "at least you can do that right." Price mutters, tangling his fingers in the shorter mans mohawk, pulling him closer. "think you're slick, don't you?" he whispers calmly, looking down at the grinning face.

"I'd say I'm pretty slick, Sir." That earns him a harsh slap across the face but it just makes his cock twitch.

"fucking hell. you're a proper whore." it's something he constantly gets to hear, but that doesn't make it any less exciting. price shakes his head and spits in his face before pushing him onto the desk, chest down and face pressed into the wood. his pointy canines show with his grin, even when price starts raining down slaps on the bubble butt sticking out from him arching his back. "you're a filthy little pervert." he grunts with effort, making sure to tan his ass red, leaving handprints all over as soaps cock leaks. "can't even punish you proper, you're too stupid to understand when you've been bad." he scoffs. "like an untrained mutt, wagging his goddamn tail while you're cussing him out.. thinking he's gonna get a treat.." soap moans loudly, the others watch with amusement. they know this scene too well, having seen it over and over again. and it's the same every time.

It takes a good few smacks before soaps horny moans turn pained, a few more to make his face scrunch up. "you finally getting it now?" John scoffs. "you're not here to have fun. I'll make sure you remember it." he lets go of soaps mohawk now, stepping behind him and putting his hand on the red, hot cheeks, digging his fingers into the burning flesh and pulling them apart to reveal his hole. "jesus Christ.." Price says, a twinge of disgust in his voice. "look at this sloppy fucking cunt." he shakes his head, spitting directly on it. "so fucking loose. you been offering it to everyone you come across, haven't you?"

he lets go of one cheek and slaps the slightly gaping hole, making soap jump, cock twitching. John sighs. "lets get this over with.." he mutters, without warning he pushes his entire length into the man in one thrust, making him howl. "there we go." he grunts, fingers digging harder into the fat of his ass as he starts thrusting, deep and sloppy, just like his cunt. Soap drops his head forward and moans loudly, holding onto the edge of the desk that's shaking with the force of the thrusts. Price grunts, free hand tangling in the mohawk once again, pulling his head up. "look at them. had to fucking ruin them because of your stupid idea, you god damn brat." he cusses him out, sounding like an angry father. "See that? poor kyle, squirming with a vibe in his ass, all fucked out and tired because you had to go and be a brat again." he spits down onto his hole again. "and simon. look at those red, puffy eyes. you made him fucking cry. you happy now?" he asks harshly; but johnny just moans loudly, fingers digging into the wood harder. hes already so close, he's been waiting his turn for so long.

"of course you are. dont care for anything but your own pleasure." he scoffs. "fucking pathetic. and you call yourself a soldier." another smack lands on his ass, then another. soaps cock is dripping precum by now, hips pushing up. "should dishonorably discharge you and keep you around as a stress relief instead, teach you a lesson in camaraderie. but youd just like that, wouldn't you? taking cock after cock, load after load until your slutty cunt is ruined and full of cum-" he's cut out by a loud, pathetic moan and soaps cum shooting against the underside of the desk in thick ropes. price groans and smacks his ass sharply.

"you god damn.." he trails off, thrusting harder, gripping him tighter. soap whines and clenches around him, head pulled back even harder by him. he knows john is close - of course he is, he's held back from cumming the whole time - and he knows he's the one who's gonna get the precious load. at least that's what he thinks.

he thinks it until price pulls out, feeling the thick, sticky liquid dribble onto his back, price lets go of his hair and grips his own cock, pumping it rapidly to get every last drop of cum out and onto soaps back; who let's his head drop with a disappointed groan. after a few moments he rests his softening cock against soaps buttcrack, slowly rubbing it back and forth for a moment before taking a deep breath and dressing himself. he steps back and looks around.

"..clean up and be in our quarters in 10."

[yakowo]

pricesoap and sauna commission 🧖

[rainyramblesscramble]

Hehehe DOODLE PAGE BE UPON YE 🫶

includes past and current suggestions/requests by @lialucis @thatoneautisticshark and @ghostmoon1 …as well as two requesters from discord whose tumblr tags I unfortunately do not know :(

Thanks everybody for getting me to 350! I have had so much fun thus far and I hope to see y’all through many more ups and downs 🫶

[thatoneautisticshark]

Soap, when he gets his first ever dildo, is absolutely wracked with instilled guilt. He just can't, ends up sobbing with the dildo sitting on his bed, because he just can't.

He doesn't even know how to use it, it seems to big, and he is going to burn in hell.

Cue Simon and price walking by, and hearing sobs, coming in to see what's wrong.

They teach him how to use it and sooth his worried gently and carefully

(Aka the premise of something I'm writing rn)

[tamago-art]

Chibi Pricesoap

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Johnny's knee hurts. Price helps him feel better.

cw: messy blowjob. For the @continentcakeshop, who love Johnny.

Johnny shifted his foot for the third time in ten minutes and felt the now familiar twinge through his knee. He couldn't decide what was worse; the constant dull ache of keeping it stationary, like it needed to click, which was driving him batshit insane, or the sharp burn of a quick stretch that made his entire body jolt, knocking the table he was sharing with the boss man himself.

“You broken?” Price asked, tapping the blunt nib of his biro against the manilla folder by his form.

“Naw, sir. Jus’ me bum knee. S’givin’ me grief cause it's cald outside.”

“You been t’ the physio?”

“Not fer a few weeks. No time, ye know…” Johnny gestured aimlessly at the paperwork in front of him. When he'd signed up at fifteen and nine months, he hadn't expected to spend so long with a damn pen in his hand instead of a firearm.

Price hummed and Johnny watched his whiskers twitch as they tended to do when he was mulling something over. Then came the full face grimace as he considered his options. The biro clattered to the table moments later, the chair legs scraping against the concrete floor. “Olrigh’, can't ‘ave ya fallin’ behind. Keks down, leg up ‘ere.”

Johnny blinked owlishly, first at Price's hands as they patted his lap and then at the intense blue eyes watching him from beneath thick eyebrows. “Come again.”

“C’mon, MacTavish. Don't ‘ave all day. Boot off, drop ‘em. Quick rub down will make it feel better.”

Oh, he wasn't taking the piss. Well, shit. Johnny glanced at Price's hands again, big, weathered, with long clever fingers and a scar across the knuckles from where Price had skinned them open on the steel-plated jaw of a Kortac operator. The thought of having them on his body in any capacity made a sudden surge of heat fill his belly.

His knee gave another unrepentant throb and he stood awkwardly to undo his belt, jamming the heel of his boot against the toe of the other to kick it off before loosening the laces. He managed to slide his leg out, the knee support catching on his waistband, before slumping back into the chair. His foot hovered off the floor, suddenly conscious of how fuckin’ filthy his sock was. And how tight his boxers were.

“Ain't got all night,” Price said. “Stop bein’ a pansy. Ain't gonna ‘urt ya.”

Johnny scowled and extended his leg, setting it gingerly across Price's lap while his hands cupped over his crotch. “Naw one says pansy any more, old man.”

Price raised an eyebrow as he hooked Johnny's knee support and coaxed it down his calf muscle, bunching it at his ankle as he wrinkled his nose. “This sock ever seen a washin’ machine?”

“Oh feck, now ye really sound like me pa.”

“I was eleven years old when you were born, I ain't yer dad, MacTavish.” Price chucked the support and the filthy sock onto the floor and ran his thumbs up the sides of Johnny’s leg, pressing into the swollen ligaments and tendons either side of his patella. The sensation sat keenly on the threshold of pain and pleasure; Price couldn't press too hard without oil, but his pressure was damn perfect.

“Oh, fuck… mmm, aye, but I c’n still call ye dad–”

“If ya finish that sentence, ‘m gonna dislocate yer knee cap.”

“Aye, sir."

Johnny tried to stay quiet. He yapped when he was nervous and Jesus wept he was nervous now. Not because it hurt - god, fuck, Price’s hands were a damn dream - but because the heat in his belly was spreading out through the rest of him; a warm, fuzziness humming just below his skin. As the dull ache ebbed into a low throb, Johnny’s chin tilted down and his eyes lidded. He watched those strong hands work, manipulating his muscles and tendons like putty, pressing to and fro in easy glides that left Johnny lightheaded.

Johnny bit back a moan. Price was good. He knew what he was doing. Didn't stay only around the knee, but rubbed behind it and slightly down the calf to ease the resulting tension from where the rest of his leg was overcompensating. That was all fine… it was when those thumbs went up his thigh, one on the hairy outside, the other up the milky soft skin of the inner, that the whole arrangement got a bit spicy.

Johnny was getting hard. Proper hard, not just a cheeky little chubby. He could feel the wet patch in the cotton where his leaking tip was pushing up against his palm. Fuck, fuck. His eyes squeezed shut, and he tried to distract himself. Mentally listing off the steps for stripping a gun, the ingredients for a pipe bomb, the starting fifteen for Man City–

“Ev’ryfin olrigh’, Soap?”

Johnny’s eyes blinked open and he realised he'd been damn panting. Price hadn't stopped though. One hand had wandered a little higher, massaging his thigh muscle while the other cupped beneath his calf. Just a little higher and he could slide his cock into his captain's palm. Those callouses would feel unreal against the silky skin of his shaft… no, no, normal thoughts. Normal.

“Aye, sir. Sorry. Jus’... Uh…”

“Feels good,” Price finished for him. “Been a while for more ‘an jus’ physio then.” There was a wry amusement to his tone and Johnny’s lower lip pushed up in a pout, his face flushing red.

“S’not what it looks like.”

“Looks like yer hard from a little tenderness, sergeant.”

“Fuck, don't tell anyone, ah’ll do dogsbody in officer’s mess fer a whole month.”

“Oof, humiliatin’.”

“Not as humiliatin’ as Garrick takin’ the pish cause ah got a stonner for me captain,” Johnny blurted out, making it infinitely worse. “Fuck.”

Price snorted a laugh and Johnny’s eyes blew owlishly wide again. Those big hands were still working; any pain had faded, and only a warm pleasure remained, pressure coiling in his groin. Price hummed. “Maybe I can help ya with that too. If yer up for it.”

“What?” Johnny squeaked. Price was a gay man. That was no secret. He was one of the few gay men in the service that Johnny had ever encountered that endured precisely fuck all abuse about it. No cunt was daft enough to even try. Johnny had been too feart to own his sexuality, but Price had probably heard Grindr ping one too many times to be left under any illusion that Johnny was straight.

“Yer not the only one goin’ through a bit of a dry spell. Offer’s there.”

Johnny swallowed thickly. He couldn't lift his eyes from Price's hands, watching those strong thumbs circle either side of his knee again, prick throbbing in the confines of his boxers. Of all the days to wear his snug Calvin Kleins that left nothing to the imagination. The bulge had filled his palms now. He could pull away, put a stop to it, but he didn't want to. He wanted Price’s hand wrapped around his prick. “Aye.”

“Whot?”

“Aye, sir… ah’d like some… help,” Johnny finished lamely, his fingers tightening over his cock as he shifted his arse in the chair.

Price blinked at him slowly, leaning back in his chair. Johnny’s leg shifted a little, foot tilting out, and he saw it for the first time. A huge fuck off bulge in the front of Price's Carhartts. “Oh-ho, fuck me, look at the size of it,” Johnny wheezed, and then clicked his mouth shut, lips sucked in so he could chew on them before murmuring, “Respectfully… sir.”

Price chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face, nails raking down through his beard around the edges of his grin. “‘m gonna be glad ev’ryone's on leave, un’ I?”

Johnny flushed to the tips of his ears. “Ah can be wheesht.”

“Nah, don't be.” Price took Johnny's ankles and lowered his leg slowly to the floor. Johnny licked his lips as anticipation bubbled in his chest, hands still clasped over his crotch despite the futility of trying to hide his erection. His eyes somehow widening further as Price slipped from his seat and onto his knees between Johnny’s feet.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Johnny breathed, hands shaking as Price took them and guided them away from where they still cupped protectively over his cock. He felt the warm puff of Price's breath over the hair on his belly and the damp spot on his boxers, and his toes curled against the floor. Those weathered fingers stroked up his thighs, over soft cotton to the elastic of his waistband. Johnny’s cock flicked gratefully free, ruddy and dark compared to the rest of him, and he sucked in a sharp hiss through his teeth as cool air found his wet slit.

“Well, pretty all over, ain’tcha, sergeant?”

Johnny knew he had a nice dick, good girth, nice upward curve to hit all the right spots and a respectable length. He'd taken enough selfies with it and then had his phone blow up to know, but to hear Price say it in that silky rumble made him go weak. His hips squirmed, and he bit his lower lip as Price's beard rubbed on his inner thigh, followed by the softness of his lips as he kissed a trail up. Johnny fingers bit into the outside of his legs as they pushed out, urging Price to get to his destination. “Please, sir…”

“Relax, soldier. I gotcha.”

Finally, Price grasped Johnny’s cock, fingers pushing through the coarse thatch of hair at the base. Johnny let out a soft whine, shaft flicking in Price’s grip as a thick pearl of precum welled from his slit. It was sweet, sweet torture. A mixture of relief and yearning that made his entire body light up. Price’s thumb swept below his waistband, brushing the swell of his sac, before he stroked up, fingers brushing over the flare of Johnny’s crown.

Johnny groaned, head flopping back because he needed to briefly thank fucking God for blessing his dick and promise to visit confession at some point in the next decade to repent for lusting after his captain's hands and mouth. He couldn't take his fucking eyes off Price for long, and he looked back in time to watch Price ease his foreskin back, the wicked tip of his tongue pushing though Johnny’s slit to lap it clean of pre. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… god, shite, ahh, sir, mmm.”

The lines around Price's eyes deepened in amusement, and then his eyes slid closed in what Johnny could only describe as bliss as he kissed the thick vein down Johnny's length, brushing the tip of his nose across silky skin until it buried against Johnny's groin with a soft groan. “Mm, fuck, ya smell good.”

Johnny spread his legs a little further, lifting his arse when Price tugged his boxers to bring them further down his thighs. The heat of his mouth enveloped Johnny’s balls, his tongue pressing down the seam, Johnny's cock resting against his cheek as he tasted his fill. Johnny panted through parted lips, one hand finally leaving his leg to slide around the back of his captain's head to pull his face closer. “Aye… sir, fuck… ahh.”

The moan that rumbled from Price’s chest rolled up Johnny’s body like an earthquake, and he heard the clatter of a buckle as Price fumbled with his belt to free his cock. Jacking himself off to the taste of Johnny’s sac in his mouth. When he finally drew away, he left Johnny's dark curls wet with spit, his blue eyes lidded, drunk on Johnny's musk and the pleasure of his hand pumping slowly up and down his own cock.

“God, yer a fuckin’ bonny picture, sir. Love tae suck cock, eh? Fuck.”

Price didn't say anything, just licked back up the underside of Johnny’s prick to draw the tip into his mouth. The wet glide of Price's tongue around his glans made Johnny groan, and he lifted his hips, pressing his tip over the ridges at the top of Price's mouth, fingers tightening at the back of his head. Price didn't need much encouragement to sink down, but he did so at his own pace, slowly, torturously, sucking Johnny deeper into the glorious wet heat of his mouth until Johnny’s head hit the back of his throat.

Johnny held him there for moment, admiring the stretch of his lips around the heft of his shaft, the lidded, fucked out enjoyment in his eyes, the way his broad shoulders were completely relaxed as he palmed himself lazily. Bonny was right. Johnny wondered what he'd be like on his back with his hands pinned above his head, what his moans might sound like when they weren't muffled by cock…

Price drew off, sucking greedily until he reached the tip, before lowering again in a steady glide, fucking his own mouth on Johnny's prick. Johnny moaned loudly with each dip of Price’s head, his thighs shaking as warm, irresistible pleasure curled in his hips, through his belly, his balls firming up beneath Price's chin. “Ah, ah, sir, fu-mm, fuck, yer mouth… is… ahh.”

And then Price swallowed him down proper. Johnny felt the pop as his head pushed into Price's throat, the clenching tightness made him choke out a low, trembling moan, Price’s nose buried against his groin. The sound of Price’s pumping hand, the wet slap of skin, grew more urgent and the thought that Price was even more turned on by having Johnny in his throat was dizzying. When he began to bob his head again, half choking on Johnny’s cock, Johnny knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

He didn't know where to put his hands, bunching Price's hair between his fingers, scrubbing them over his beard just to feel the bristles against his fingertips, sliding them down his throat to feel his Adam's apple bob and strain around his cock.

His heels lifted from the floor, toes pushing into the cold concrete, a sharp contrast to the blistering, pulsing heat of his captain's mouth as it milked him. He babbled incoherently, half Scots, half unintelligible English slurred out like a drunk at last orders, delirious with pleasure as saliva and precum pooled around his groin. His thumb stroked over Price's cheeks, pressing to feel the glide of his shaft through them and trace the damp of the tears that tracked from hazy blue eyes.

“Sir, ah’m, sir…” Johnny tried to tug him off because a gentleman didn't cum down a fella’s throat without asking, but Price fucking growled like a wolf having its meal stolen and that was enough to punch Johnny over into a heady climax. “Sir, fuck!” His stomach clenched, toes pushing against the floor as his hips lifted from the chair. Price kept sucking, drinking every drop offered by Johnny’s twitching prick. It coaxed him higher until he was whimpering in fucked out bliss, his fingers shaking in his captain's hair. Just as he was tipping over into oversensitivity, Price pulled off and pressed his face into the sweaty crease of Johnny's thigh, arm moving furiously, hips humping as he fucked his own grip.

“Yeah, g’won, sir, gonna come for me, liked havin’ my prick down ye throat, belly full of my cum.” Johnny stroked Price’s hair and watched his eyes roll back, his shoulders seizing, as he came hard into his fist. He panted between Johnny's legs, catching his breath for a moment, before he slumped back into his heels. Johnny took the opportunity to look down at his prick, still semi-hard, and he sucked in a breath. “Fuck, look at tha’ beast… ye top with tha’ weapon?”

“Only if you ya’sk nicely,” Price rasped. The sound of his throat, fucked raw, made Johnny's soft prick twitch against his thigh.

“How nicely?”

“State secret. S’classified.”

“I’ll steal L.T.’s clearance,” Johnny replied testily, and his hunch was rewarded with a quirk of the eyebrows. “Knew it.”

Price chuckled hoarsely. “Clean up. Got work t’ finish.” He rolled to his feet and for a beautiful moment his cock bobbed close to Johnny’s face. Be seein’ ye soon, sweet thing.

“Can't, ye jus’ sucked me brain out me prick.”

“Now, MacTavish.”

Johnny's mouth clicked shut, and then he mumbled a “yessir” as he pulled his boxers and jeans back up. He'd be lying if he said it was somewhat difficult to focus on the reports for the rest of the evening, especially when he lifted a foot to tease Price's crotch and the bastard spread his legs to give access. Didn't even flinch though. Wily git.

[dmitriene]

for the soap x john price anon in my inbox

cw: light smut, authoritative dynamics, characters can seem ooc i'm sorry.

johnny is a good soldier, farther from it, he's a well capable demolition expert, an addition to the task force that john would never trade for anything, or anyone, and he shows his appreciation for the boy quite well, perhaps a bit concerning, but it's doesn't matter when mctavish shoots him a wide, toothy grin and sparkling glint of his baby blue eyes, preening under his captains gravelly words.

that's not a place to play favorites, price knows this for sure, but the young pup got into his heart too easily for his liking, and even so, john can't push him away, not his biting jokes, not his casual touches, not his loud whines about how tired he is to be stuck at the base, he needs some air, perhaps a drink or two, a pretty lass, or not, to dance with, so john huffs with deep crease bet his thick eyebrows, promising him a proper outing at the end of this week.

johnny is careless, sometimes, childishly so, in his words, in his acts, and when it's get's him in some trouble, price gets him by the scruff and drags out like a wild kitten, despite all the kicking and hissing, tangled babbles that he had it under control, that everything was alright, only to get scolded in the end, shoulders slumped, listening to the growl of jonathan's deep, husky voice, swallowing the feisty income that curls on his tongue, stuck beneath his canines.

the knowledge that johnny knows the captain here, who he needs to listen to, sometimes even to obey, makes something searing hot curl low in his gut, press, demanding attention, and it's only between him and the gray walls of his room when he grips his cock tight and dry, fisting rough through ragged breaths and sight of johnny's eyes behind his closed eyelids, those clever, sweet eyes, smart, mischievous, swirling bright, the teasing, scottish heavy — “captain price” ringing in his ears when he cums with a punched grunt.

john should feel ashamed, fuck, he really should, not only the boy is younger than him, he's practically a father figure for him, a man that guides, supports, lends a helping hand, pats at the already ruffled mop of mohawk at his head with some encouraging words already coming, while thinking how would johnny sound while rasping his name around his big, fat cock, how he'd wriggle his perfectly lean, toned body under john's heavy bulk, sweating, arching, while pressing plump, muscular ass against slapping hips.

and still, price can't help himself at all, he acts on the feeling that gnaws his insides, falls under a haze of desperation, need for taste, so when he invites johnny into his cabinet late at evening, cigar between his teeth, abandoned glass with amber liquid on the wooden table, posture lax in his chair, and mctavish inviting himself further in from the doorway, body loose from recent shower, water dripping from the curling strands of his long mohawk, smelling of masculine shower gel and minty shaving foam, he can't resist.

beckons him as close as he can, dumping the still flaming cigar into the nervously full ashtray, before tangling his curling fingers in the long hairs at johnny's neck, and tugs him closer, seeing the way boy swallows down a ragged gasp, and flutters his doll long, wispy eyelashes, before their lips meet, clash of teeth's, silenced whimpers, beard and stubble rasping against flushing skin, grasping fingers tugging at each other's hair and clothes and johnny almost climbing up john's body.

johnny's mouth opens for his captain's tongue, ribcage cracked to laid a heart out to take, a good soldier, a perfect boy, and when price tries to pull away, lips spit soaked and tingling from numbing kisses, he get's dragged back by a painful tug at his mutton chops and johnny's leg hoisting, rubbing up towards his hip, fully understanding, now, that he didn't made any mistake when he called mactavish here, didn't mistaken his intuition.

main masterlist. quidelines.