#captain price x m!reader

[fortheloveofkonig]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

[masonmace]

Part.2 of Sergej being a pervert.

Okay. Well. John's a fuckin perv too..

cw: wrestling...turned fucking. Primal play times 700 (growling and fighting), rough sex, butt darts(anal!sex)(no lube..spit), spit, creampie, dryhumping mention, anal!fingering, biting, spanking

This time during their spar session, there'd been some weird shift in energy. A new determination in John's eyes. It made Sergej boil with arousal. Anytime they spar, anyways, they both end up hot and bothered near the end. Manhandling and being in the close quarters of another is one the easiest ways to get a man worked up ... not to mention that the competition and exertion sends a little excitement down south anyways.

This time is no different. Sergej watches John stroll in. Meeting the other half way and giving him a handshake, shoulder meeting the other's chest before they both peel back and share a smile - add on a few words about what they're looking to work on this time around.

The usual. Mainly a bit of wrestling practice with the usual additions of jiu jitsu. John's not to the point where he can fully match Sergej's sparring style.

They've been at it for a while now, but John's finally got a hold on Sergej. Sergej's trying to fight back, when John full out groans, grinding his hard on right against Sergej's backside.

Whose eyes shoot wide and he gives a few huffs and a fight back, only for Jonathon to shove him down by the shoulder. There's one hell of a difference in grazing and full-on dry humping. This time, Sergej juts his hips back into John's - giving a challenging growl. There's no need for consent spoken - action is enough here. John tears Sergej pants and boxers down. Spitting onto his hole - one finger moving and catching the spit before snapping it into the blonde below him. Who gasps and arches his hips into John even more.

It's all teeth and growling with need. John using his other hand to free himself from his sweats and boxers. Pumping his cock and spitting onto his hand. Giving himself steady strokes and coating himself in the poor excuse for lube.

Sergej juts his hips further, whining desperately for more.

"Guess I know 'how t'win now." John growls. To which Sergej shoots him a look, hissing - hole twitching and fluttering as John retracts his finger and wastes no time to replace it with his thick, heavy cock.

Sergej gasps and growls as John forces himself in. Hips retracting and snapping forward, working the smaller male open bit by bit. The blonde's eyes rolling back and jaw hanging open. One hand grasping at the floor and the other reached back to spread himself open. To feel the way John cock works him.

With a heady moan, John bottoms out, back bending and forehead landing on Sergej's shoulder. Rubbing against him and panting - hard and heavy. He gives them both a moment to adjust to the new sensations. Sergej's plush, soft inner walls twitching around John. Clenching with each drawn pant he gives. Sergej's breath knocked straight from his chest and eyes already half rolled back from the intrusion. Feeling so full on his Captain's cock. He can feel the pulse of every vein. The angry throb that beats with the older's heart.

When John starts moving, he doesn't even give the mercy of starting slow. One hand clasping against the back of Sergej's neck. Holding him into the mat as he abuses his tight hole with drawn, punishing slams of his hips. Finally able to dominate this little fucker. Who's digging at his hip and giving these panted moans.

They're both lost in the sensations for a bit. All before Serg gets the upper hand, tearing away and sweeping John's knees out from under him. Rolling and grasping until he's got John under him. Legs stretched to pin John's arms; Serg's arms wrapped around John's legs. Fighting to get John's cock back into him. Releasing the other's arms and crooning out a moan that he half-bites back when John works in tandem.

Price's hand cradling his own cock and stuffing it into the scout's waiting hole. Both of them giving growls and grunts of delight as Sergej's hips start to snap up and down against John. The look of bliss evident on his face. Head knocking back and eyes rolling. His knees shaking when he angles just right so John can find that little spot deep in the other. John's large hands grasping Sergej's waist. Heel of his palms pressed into the plush belly of the younger. Adding just enough pressure to have him trembling.

"Turn around." John spits, growling and snapping his hips into Sergej's: who takes a second to breathe before lifting himself off and moving so his ass was facing John. One hand holding his Captain steady as he once again sits onto the man's thick cock. Biting his lip. Seating himself fully before leaning and slowly, achingly so, pulling up. Making John gasp and bite back and trembling groan. Fighting not to cum at that sight: watching the way his dick disappears into Sergej's pink rim. The sight lewd and nasty and purely primal.

The slow pace only lasts a second before both of John's hands grasp Sergej's thick shoulders and tear the younger man back. Biceps closing and flexing around Sergej's throat. Just enough to choke him as he starts fucking his hips up, hard and relentless. Gasping and growling into Sergej's ear and panting down his neck before his teeth snap into his shoulder. Biting hard enough to leave crevices from his teeth. The sounds from them both primal and animalistic.

Taking frustrations and stress out at they hump and rut into each other. Sergej's face growing red. Slowly rolling them both onto their sides. The slap of John's hips against Sergej's rear-end lewd and ricocheting off the walls. Sergej's body now pliant and taking every. fucking. thrust. Like his weary little life depended on it. Giving these sobbed moans of pleasure. Babbling John's name and how good he feels. John growling and moaning into Sergej's neck - full of triumph at finally finding Sergej's weak point –

that sweet, sweet hole.

John's free hand moves, grasping Sergej's thigh and lifting it. "Spread f'me, baby..." he growls, Sergej's poor leg trembling and prying apart. "More.. wider." John growls, pulling out and moving. Straddling Sergej's lower thigh and cramming his cock right back in. Twisting the sweet little blonde's other thigh onto his shoulder. Panting and leaning forward. Gripping at his throat and keeping his head in the mats as he goes right back.

Sergej's back arching, thighs trembling and eyes rolling again. John's own fluttering and flickering as he groans - low and heavy. They're both slick with sweat. Banging like wild fucking animals in the middle of the sparring ring.

"Good fucking boy.." John spits. Jamming his hips in with his words. "Taking m'cock like y'were made fer' it." Jonathon's words growl as he ruts into Sergej. Wanting to cling to the feeling of his sergeant finally around him, but knowing full well that they both are far too close to stop now. "Jus' go'ah fill yer ass up and you shut that snarky fockin' mouth." He moans the words with a snarl. Jamming his hips at the perfect angle. "Put my load in there next."

The threat is one Sergej very thoroughly enjoys. Giving a sobbed little whimper. John's cock jamming into places that Sergej hasn't had touched in goddamn years. The fingernails he's got left digging stripes into both John's forearm and shoulder. Trying to choke back his moans as he tumbles closer and closer. Tears of pleasure wetting his blonde eyelashes and turning them a pretty brown. Rolled back into his head and trying to form the words around John's hand on his throat. To say that he's close.. that he's about to cum.

But of course his Captain knows that. Can feel those abused walls clenching around him. Giving groans and snapping his hips right in. His own nostrils flaring. Chest heaving as he gains on his orgasm.

Both parties've been needing a good fucking. "Jus' needed a pounding from yer captain..." John growls, panting heavy and loud.

The slurred "yess.." that Sergej produces is nothing short of sinful. Gasping as the hand tightens around his throat. A few babbled, foreign curses choking from his chest. The thigh of his over John's shoulder started to twitch and tremble. A choked plea for permission rising in his throat. Lips twitching.

"Go on." John insists, hips snapping into Sergej hard enough for his body to jolt back. "Cum on my cock.." he urges. Hand loosening around Sergej's throat and running down. Holding his soft little belly. It only takes a couple more thrusts before Serg goes taut and then that coil snaps. Shamelessly trembling and cumming all over the mat beneath him.

John's quick to follow. Hips stuttering forward and cock pulsing before he gives a tremble, spilling a hot load deep into the sergeant below him.

They sit, intertwined, for a minute. John's face leaning down and kissing sweetly down the back of his thigh. Licking off the sweat with a little purr of delight. His hips slowly pulling back, slipping his - now soft and spent - cock out of Sergej. Both of them hissing at the feeling. John growling as he watches that pretty rim gape and twitch, squeezing out his load as Sergej pants - dazed out of his pretty head.

John's not having too much of it. Fingers reaching and gathering his spend onto his fingers. Swirling that pretty hole and stuffing it all right back in. Sergej gasping and trying to pull from the feeling at first. Only for John to tug him back and giving a few pumps of his fingers. Pulling them out and wiping it all off on Sergej's ass. Hand reeling and snapping down. Spanking both cheeks. Listening to his sergeant squeak and try to twitch away.

Looking over his broad shoulder and pouting. Only to spank him again.

"Don' you gi'me that look." John growls. Squeezing those plump cheeks and shaking it sweetly. "Yer the one who just let me fuck you in th' middle of the trainin' room, prince." He gives a dark chuckle.

Sergej huffs out a whine. "Or what?" He snarks right back, speaking with a tight jaw.

"Or I'll fuck you stupid in front a' th' whole team... an' let em have their way, too." John threatens. Making Serg's jaw involuntarily drop. Then watching the blonde deflate and give a pleading little whine.

"It won't happen again." Sergej says. Promise in his eyes.

[lay-z]

Pairing: omega!John Price x alpha!military!fem!Reader

“Oh, I don’t doubt that one bit, Sergeant,” Price chuckles gruffly while he keeps his arms crossed in front of his broad chest to hold on to that tiny shred of control. “There probably isn’t a single omega that wouldn’t let you take them home, let’s be honest here.”

And then, the Captain is met by a sudden silence and the previously light-hearted atmosphere is replaced by something more… tense and serious.

He glances up at you from his office chair and his lower belly flutters as soon as he sees the look on your face. That intimidating look an alpha owns when they have set their mind on something – or someone.

Cocksure as ever, you reply in your usual dry tone that always leaves Price’s omega panting internally and yearn for a chance to proof himself to you,

“Does that include you too, sir?”

Hold up, I might be cooking up something.🍝👩🏼‍🍳

[cryptid-cave]

Currently thinking about a reader who, while having a full-time job and playing the part of a “real adult” pretty well for the most part, is still kind of lost and pathetic. It feels less like they’re living and more like they’re surviving, getting by on their own with just a cat for company.

Enter John Price, who’s currently on medical leave and just itching for a project. Maybe reader works at a store near his home that he shops at almost every other day, or works at the library where he goes when he needs to get out of the house. Either way, he spots this pretty little thing who clearly needs some love and guidance, preferably from a strong, gentle hand - and who better to do that than him?

Anyways, save me bossy and demanding Price with a savior complex, save me

[stankygay]

141 x m!reader: Captured & Found

Captain John Price

He had chewed through his favorite cigars as they tried to find you. The last mission had gone to utter shit and he felt responsible for you being captured. When Laswell called Price on your possible location, he threw the ruined cigar in the bin and got his men ready. When he found you, you were in a dark damp cell. Your eye was black and you had some minor wounds. He was the first one to push through into the cell. He checked you over assessing your injuries. You smiled at him, bloody teeth glinting in the minimal light. He had a deep frown on his face. You tried to joke, tried to make light of the situation. You hated the way Price looked, like he was the one that beat you and put you in the cell himself. When he cut your bindings you found your hand reaching for his arm. The squeeze of his muscle reminded him that you were and present. That you weren't dead or worse. "Stay with me John," you utter. And he feels even more guilty for the fact that you are the one comforting him instead.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

He was eerily silent the entire time. He listened to orders and the intel gathered about your location. Everyone stared at him weary for any reaction but there was none. He kitted up like regular, stood on the helo, and waited for orders. He went up ahead before anyone else and no one even tried to hold him back. He found you, your arms hanging above your head by metal cuffs and a chain. He walked over to you, and got the cuffs off of you. You were bleary eyed and concussed. The skull face in front of you looked familiar but you couldn't really think. When he spoke, the words warmed your bones. He asked for a sit-rep and you could barely speak. You were exhausted. When he half dragged you out of the location, in the sunlight you could clearly see Ghost's eyes. He was worried. He got you to the medics, he stayed close but never got in the way as you were treated. He was the one to reach out for you once your wounds were packed. He was the one to grab your hand in his. He squeezed your fingers and you tried to squeeze back but you had no energy. You felt yourself slowly falling asleep but he kept squeezing. And then he began to talk just to keep you awake. He spoke about his collection. Anything to keep you lucid as they flew out to the closest hospital.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He was antsy. He couldn't sit still, he might have back talked Price but the captain let it go this once. He didn't want to wait. He tried hard but he needed to do something. He followed into the building but with each step he took he felt his stomach sink further. The cameras in the building showed you. Their enemies lay dead and now they could grab you and exfil. Gaz didn't hesitate, he ran into the empty room where you were tied to a chair. He immediately reached out and held your face in his hands. "Love," he asked squeezing softly as you opened your eyes to look at him. He smiled when he saw those familiar eyes look at him. His stomach was still in knots with worry but now he was here. He helped you up from the chair as gently as he could. He never let you go as they exfiled, not even when the medics tended to your wounds. He kept rubbing your arms and back. He whispered in your ear that you were fine, that you were so strong. Your chest felt warm being in his presence and no longer kept back in that room. They had tried to get information from you, but you never spoke. A risk of being in the task force, but you trusted these men with your life. Gaz kissed your temple, taking in the faint smell of your shampoo that had faded with the scent of sweat and blood.

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

He was almost benched on the spot. He had gone off without waiting for orders. The only reason he hadn't gone and leveled the building completely was because he had been caught by Ghost. Soap was serious. A deep frown on his pouty lips. His fingers tossing a frag back and forth. His veins felt alight with fire, angry and looking to put a bullet between the eyes of these assholes that took you. You had not gone without a fight but there were so many they had to regroup. Soap hated they had to leave you to them. Price tried to explain why, but all he wanted was to get you back. When the got to the location, maybe he set up some c-4 around. Maybe he rigged this dingy garage to blow up once they were several clicks away. They found you on the ground. Blood spilling from your nose and staining your gear. You had been stripped of your weapons and your kit. He ran and knelt in front of you. His hand immediately going for your pulse point. You flinched at the touch, sitting up and a knife aimed at Soap's chest. He moved away and raised his hands but he wasn't upset. Those clear blue eyes were familiar. You sagged in relief. "Fuckin' hell," you muttered to yourself as you drooped onto his shoulder. Soap checked you over, as they planned to leave. Soap had a worry in his brow but he also had a giant smile on his face. Cause you were a fighter, even as you swayed on your feet, he proclaimed how strong you are and how you'd never go down without a fight.

[blingblong55]

Worth it- 141 & Laswell

pic credits: @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot (left)and @ave661 (middle)

Based on a request: Wait, wait, first of all hope you're doing well and make sure to drink a glass of water if you haven't already. Cozy? Yeah? Okay, Can I request something (you can choose whether it's a HCor not,etc etc) on how TF141 would react to meeting a teen boy around 15-16, who's like a genius in engineering, mathematics, and physics? Like the boy could legitimately build a rocket if he had the time, help and materials. Maybe the meet him because he got in trouble with the government for unknowingly making a weapon? Maybe he made it for a class assignment and it was stolen without his knowledge? Whatever you think makes sense here. Leaving space for you to enter your own creative thoughts, just the general idea of it. The boy is based on a character of mine from a book I'm writing, his name his Michael, but ofc you can switch that up however you wish. Have fun with this one Ignore if it doesn't sound fun to ya <3 ---- M!Reader, genius!reader, platonic!relationship? ----

A/N: drank enough water, thanks for the reminder <3

Y/N, the name of the unknown internet user that had been chased by many governments and caught by the one and only Task Force 1-4-1.

You created something so dangerous that no one believed Laswell when she told her bosses the age you had when you started all this. You created the one thing most geniuses working for the government didn't know existed outside of the numbers and graphs they had done for it. At first, the FBI had named you un-sub A. Now, they can finally put a name to the unknown face.

How were you caught? Well, it wasn't easy, let's start there. When all this mess began, you were no older than fifteen. You are practically a ticking bomb to the government so when they heard that someone was asking the right questions to chemists around your city, they began to search for you. Laswell at the time was on a small break from work but the journals you had left in your parent's home when you ran away one rainy day.

In the journals, Laswell found all she needed to have a task force assigned to find you. She called it Operation Mikey, the name was just to fill in the void of the one thing she couldn't find, you.

Your parents weren't much help in giving your name, hence why Mikey became a temporary replacement. With them high off any drug and you on the run with the rest of your journals, Price was tasked with finding you and making sure you were secured in their care.

For three months, you ran away. Moving to different cities and continuing your research of the chemical weapon you fabricated in your bedroom, the same one Laswell had locked in a laboratory somewhere in the capital of the country.

In month four, you found an abandoned building in the middle of the desert. That's where your laboratory, if you can call it that, began.

For months after that, you collected data and it wasn't until nine months later that Soap found you trading chemicals with some scientist that you were caught.

Once you were brought in, they had realised so much about you. You were way younger than what their profile had thought of, much more intelligent than they'd think a person your age was and so skilled in engineering, mathematics, and physics.

"Why didn't we find his information sooner," Laswell questions her bosses. "Kid was never even registered by his parents." The man on the phone answers. "How the hell did he even get this kind of education then?" She asks again but you had that answer.

"My parents just bought me books and hired a weird guy from the street to teach me anything," you respond and Price chuckles. "Bullshit, kid. Now tell us, how the hell did you get all of these journals?" He points to the evidence bags. Your research of months now being read by other scientists.

"I am the creator of them, not let me go," you protest against Ghost's grip on you. "No chance," Price barks. "What's your real name?" Laswell asks you. "Y/N," you answer knowing it was either this or get thrown in some federal prison.

"And you created this weapon? do you have any idea how dangerous it is to create something like this? How many people it would take to create a mathematical concept and then make it into a physical form?"

"It's not that hard, lady," you answer with an attitude. Were people this dumb?

It took hours, lots of bribing and one request from Soap and Gaz to give you food for you to open up. What? you are a teenager who needs enough food for growth, of course, you'll talk once they give you food. Talking and having to dumb it down took hours though. After all, how can you explain to hardheaded soldiers about probability theory, and why it mattered so much to your project that it took ten trials and two journals worth of failed work to get?

Laswell was more than impressed, no seriously, she was like a proud mother listening to you explain every page and even give notes in only a way that a teenage boy would to idiotic adults like them. She thought it was so adorable how a boy your age would throw nerdy jokes into the explanations and how she watched you be the only one to laugh at them.

Ghost would often smile when you'd give a snarky comment to Price. Don't get him started on the chuckles he let out when you threw a few old man jokes at Price or made comments on Soap's weird hairstyle. The comments towards Gaz were funny but also adorable how you tried to find more reasons to get him annoyed.

Price thought of his son who was about your age when you'd get excited over your most recent discovery for the weapon you had created. It was nice to know that behind all that matter in your head, you were still a kid. It was even nicer when you'd make the jokes no one understood but secretly, Price's nerdy self understood some jokes.

Gaz saw his younger brother in you, which is why even when you made jokes at his expense, he would let them pass. The way you looked at him when having to explain things was nice in some way but it was way funnier when you called Soap the smart one of all four for being able to understand the way bombs work better than anyone and then have Ghost shake his head and tell you, "that man is just a muppet, don't believe what we tell you about his work."

Soap was fascinated by you for sure. Just like Price, he understood some of the jokes, even the cheesy puns you made about certain elements. He liked you, it was something fresh from the people he usually deals with.

The team, for the past few days, grew to adore the nerdy man you are. Yeah, you teased and even called them out on wrong facts but it was new. It's good to have someone so intelligent and be so honest with them this time. What was funny is that you know so much about many topics few understand but you don't know much about real life outside of the nerdy realm you live in. It's a nice feeling when passing by Laswells office you find a framed picture of the day Ghost and the other men of the team taught you about hunting and even how to play baseball, something you sucked at in the beginning but have gotten better over time.

It's like having four funny, serious, and cool dads and an amazing mum whilst being taken care of at the base the team called home.

A/N: I hope this was somewhat okay and good luck on your book!

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @froggy-anon @jinxxangel13 @enarien @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @avidreadee123 @ikohniik @konigssultwithghost @luvecarson @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @marshiely @sleepyycatt

[savagebite]

Price x Gn!reader one shot

summary: price beats the crap outta you for not doing all the chores after he comes home from work and he assaults you. He packs a punch so be warned.

Tw/Contains: hitting, insulting, and non con.

Bonus link to watch that inspired me <3: (tw hitting)

Pairings:Price x Gn! Reader

The soft sound of crickets chirp outside as you clean the dishes, the lukewarm water running across your hands as you move the sponge around the plate. You hear the door open, freezing as the door slams making you flinch slightly. The heavy footsteps walk across the living room, then to the kitchen. Feeling the taller figure loom over you, a soft panic washes over you as you pray to yourself to whatever god there was that he didn’t have a bad day. A pair of heavy arms hug around your waist, cuddling into the crook of your neck.

“Welcome home….how was your day?” You softly ask, a small quiver of fear in your voice

Instead of answering, he hugs you a bit tighter, a non-verbal answer that his day didn’t go well. Putting down the dishes, you turn on your heal and face him nervously. You hug him, comforting him as you coo

“Wanna talk about it?” You softly ask, Looking up at him

He shakes his head, letting go and grabbing a beer from the fridge, the soft glass bottles clicking together as he gets up to walk to the couch. He sits down with a sigh, watching the tv.

After you finish up the dishes, you sit next to him, a distance between you two. A small grumble leaves him about his job as he talks, angry at a mission gone wrong, you can barely pay attention. He was getting angry, making you nervous. Slamming his bottle down after finishes,he sits up walking to the bathroom presumably to shower. You take his empty bottle and throw it away sighing.

“Sweetie? Where are my clothes” you freeze, a chill running through you. You forgot to clean his clothes. Shit.

nervously walking over to him, peaking your head through the door as you speak

I..forgot to clean them, I’ll do it tonight! It’ll be quick I-

A hard smack is thrown across your face, making you slightly stumble back before he grips your face making you look at him.

“I work all day, and all I expect is my partner to clean the house, but you can’t even do that. Are you that fucking stupid?”

Another smack is thrown, making you squeak in pain as he holds your face. Tears slowly start to well as he yells insults, insults you can’t even register as his hits turn to punches. Punches hit your stomach and ribs as he pins you on the floor, roughly pulling down your pants and whatever else you had on.

You barely let out small no, he scowls, hitting your face as he roughly rubs your clit making you mewl in pain, before it turns into pleasure.

If you can’t do a basic task to help me, what’s the point of you staying around huh? Why don’t I just throw you out? He yells, angry

Tears well as he spits on your cunt, taking his fingers out as he grabs your hips as he unzips his uniform pants as he fishes out his cock. You panic, softly pushing him a bit, he barely notices. He positions himself as he grabs your hips, shoving himself in as he roughly thrusts and slams into you, uncaring.

Should be grateful I even fuck a useless cunt, can’t do shit can you? He spews, slamming roughly inside you.

A rough punch is slammed against your stomach as he continues, occasionally making fun of how you reacted. After a final punch, he roughly groans, cumming inside you. Pulling out immediately, he shoves you off him as he gets up, sighing as he walks away, his seed starting to leak out of you.

[thegnomelord]

"the man you knew is dead, you killed him"

GNOME IM GONNA STRANGLE YOU WITH MY 8 LIMBS.

no but fr tho I'm a big loser when it comes to angst and like AaUAUSYRRRRGGGHH

Your comfort fluff fic with hound and the 141 and the hound in the shirt in price im

Altered my DNA it was that good I'm so

I feel like Hound won't be able to trust Price 100% like he used to and that's so augggggg

5W+1H Hound trusting Price like aurh

But I feel like whenever we get to that point where Hound can finally look at Price with something other than void n emptiness n shit it's gonna be so sweet

-🐙 (sorry for submitting so much I'm just obsessed)

It's fine octo! Ya'll are just fuelling my hyperfixation and helping me come up with more ideas for the fic lol.

I can just imagine when Hound finally looks at Price, really looks, it's at his lowest point, maybe after something traumatic, and he doesn't know who to trust or what's 'right' and just gets overwhelmed, chest and shoulders trembling and eyes stinging to hold back your emotions because you're Hound damn it, you're not allowed to cry like this, crying won't get you anything, you need to be strong.

But big, ugly sobs break through your resolve. And Price is there, gentle hands pulling you down into a hug. And you just break, hugging him tightly and cry into his shoulder, trying to get out 'I'm sorry's through your hiccups, his shirt getting drenched in your tears and snot.

And Price is just soothingly rubbing your back, muttering "It's okay, you can do it, let it out."

[edensdahlia]

༊*·˚ Until I Say So

CHARACTERS: John Price x M! Reader (F! Reader here)

RATING: NSFW

CONTENTS: Military reader, canon typical violence, Price thinks reader needs a little extra training after they get compromised during a mission, may be inaccuracies in the fighting, porn with plot because I can’t write it without, established relationship, relationship with a superior <3, sparring as foreplay, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, voyeurism (?), multiple orgasms, nicknames used: muppet, darling, love

ೃ⁀➷ WORD COUNT: 2K

“--How copy?” Price’s voice crackled through the comms, rough in all the right places and with just the slightest bit of worry buried deep beneath his impassive tone. It couldn’t be helped, worrying about you came naturally to him, like donning a second skin he couldn’t seem to shed no matter how hard he tried. He really did try. In his line of work, he couldn’t afford to worry, it was a distraction when he needed to be anything but. Distractions could cost a life.

Subconsciously, Price tightened the grip he had on his rifle, trying to convince himself the sudden tension in his body was from the mission itself and not you. Although he really shouldn’t have been tense over that either. The operation was a simple two-person job with him acting as overwatch while you mapped out the interior of a warehouse suspected to be owned by a high-profile cartel. During debriefing Laswell had confirmed that the warehouse would be empty until the following week when shipments would first start arriving.

Meaning it should have been an easy in and out. Childs play really, and yet the silence seemed to stretch eons as he continued to scan the windows of the warehouse, searching for any sign of movement. For any sign of you. The sound of static filtered through the air, startling him, and then your voice came through, low and slightly breathy.

“All good so far Captain. Warehouse appears empty.”

Your voice was like a shot of comfort directly to his nervous system. The tension in his body seemed to fade. His grip slackened but remained steady as he continued searching the windows. “Good. Map the layout and get out. Quickly yeah?” There was the sound of static again and then your hushed laughter- more an exhale than an actual laugh.

“Sounds like you’re worried sir.”

He was. Of course, he was.

“Focus Sergeant.” It wasn’t a direct command but it had the same effect regardless. On the other side of the comms, you fell silent returning your attention back to the objective you’d been given. Eventually, finally, he caught sight of you, moving with the efficiency that had been drilled into you as a rookie.

Price watched as you dipped in and out of side rooms his heart seeming to still until you came back into the focus of his scope standing just in his line of sight. Your head was tilted up towards the window as if you could see him and the thought sent a secret thrill up his spine.

“All finished here sir, heading back your way.”

“Good work, Sergeant.” The praise fell from his lips easily. Like a secret only you were privy to. His words hung briefly between you two disappearing like mist on a summer day as something flashed behind you, a streak of silver turned a blinding white by the moonlight cast through the cracking windows. 

The warehouse was supposed to be empty.

The shadowy figure behind you crumpled to the ground, dead by the silent bullet Price had put through his brain. A moment too late. Just a moment. You looked up through the shattered glass one hand around your neck attempting to stop the blood that leaked through your shaking fingers.

♡ 。 。

Price loomed above you his legs bracketing your hips, keeping you pinned firmly to the floor in a position that was vaguely familiar. He smelled of cigar smoke and sweat, a combination you would have found comfort in had you not been wrestling with him for some semblance of control. You thrashed in his grip fists coming up to connect harshly against his chest. The force of it drew a small wheeze from him that morphed into a growl as he dug the blunt edge of a knife unceremoniously against your neck. It rested just above the jagged scar splitting your throat and when he pressed down just a bit more you felt the warning behind it, gaze finding his in defeat.

He shook his head at the look withdrawing from you, watching as you rolled over, panting from exertion and the vaguest hint of something else. Sweat collected near your hairline and dripped slowly down your nose leaving a dark stain on the mat below you.

“Get up muppet.” The words fell from him, in a harsh bark that had your mind dizzy with the possibilities of what else he could command you to do. Weakly, every bone in your body aching with the movement, you pulled yourself to your feet, stumbling slightly to the side.

“Can’t we take a break Captain?” You wiped the sweat from your brow with the edge of your shirt, the movement revealing a strip of scarred skin. His gaze flickered to it unthinkingly. “I just got dismissed from medical you know.” Your shirt dropped back in place and he frowned simultaneously at the loss of such a sight and your words.

“And why were you put there in the first place Sergeant?” Price challenged. You sighed through your nose and he took that as a sign of defeat gesturing with the plastic knife in a ‘come on’ motion. “Again.” His gaze remained steady on yours as you circled the mat together, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Taking initiative you lunged for him, your dominant hand swinging out in a messy hook. Price ducked easily beneath the arm you had thrown out, pivoting so he could slam his foot into the back of your knee. You crumpled to the ground hands coming out to catch you, but he dragged you back with his forearm secured around your chest and the knife flat against your throat.

“Compromised again Sergeant.” His voice was a whisper against the shell of your ear. “You’re getting sloppy.”

You squeezed your eyes tightly together trying to fight off the arousal you felt aching between your legs. It’d been there since he’d first walked through the training room doors wearing a compression shirt that showed everything off in just the right way and sweatpants that hung dangerously low. With each press of your bodies together- each struggle for control it’d only intensified turning into a burning heat you needed so desperately to satisfy.

“I’m tired.” You offered in weak defence. The hard muscle of his thigh sat temptingly between your legs and you slowly let yourself relax in his grip, allowing you to subtly grind against his leg.

“Tired eh?” Price brought his thigh up pressing harder into your semi-hard cock and drawing a whimper from your lips as you met him halfway. Maybe not so subtle then. The knife tumbled to the floor as he settled his hands on your hips helping assist in the slow grind of you against him. Your chin dropped towards your chest at the sensation, thighs burning with the effort of keeping you upright. Price slid a hand beneath your jaw forcing your head up and turning it towards him so he could bring your mouth to his in a heated kiss. It was lazy on your part, your body sluggish from the training you’d gone through, and when you pulled back your eyes remained half-lidded.

Price smiled at the look. “You truly are a sight for sore eyes darlin’.”

The compliment did nothing but fuel your desperation. You arched further into him, nose brushing the skin of his throat. “I need you.” It was a quiet plea. A beg for him to relieve you of your own painful arousal. His hand slid beneath the band of your sweatpants teasingly and you thought for a moment he just might, but his fingers skimmed across your clothed cock with barely-there touches.

“Now?” He applied the slightest bit of pressure and you squirmed, hips rocking against his hand desperately. “Where anyone could see you?” You nodded pathetically, grinding yourself downwards in search of something more but it wasn’t enough.

“Fuckin’ tease.” Price chuckled as he hauled you off his lap, repositioning you so you were laid out flat on your back. He slid your sweatpants and underwear down to your ankles, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. Every inch of your skin was intoxicating, each scar and blemish stirring something in him.

His cock was heavy in his hands and unsurprisingly hard as he angled it against your entrance. You grabbed for the back of his neck nails scraping against the short hair there as he entered you. It wasn’t slow by any means and it burned with every inch he forced forward but it was good. So good. Your eyes fluttered closed nails digging into his scalp as he rocked against you. It was rough, needy almost. His fingers dug into your sides pulling you in, each thrust opening you further.

“I was worried about you.” Price confessed on a particularly hard thrust that had your eyes rolling back into your head. “Bloody bastard should have never touched you.” His voice was thick with emotion, a sound so rare it had your eyes blearily finding his.

“Wasn’t your fault-” You whined attempting to lift your head up but failing miserably as he fucked you harshly into the mat. Clumsily you sought out his hand squeezing it reassuringly, the touch the best you could offer when he was filling you so completely. Price seemed to understand though. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his beard scraping against your skin.

“Won’t happen again yeah?”

There was a sureness to his words, a casual confidence that left no room for argument. Although- you certainly were in no position to argue as it was. Price somehow sensing your impending orgasm soothed a hand down your sweaty face, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled down at you. “Go on love, I know you’re close.” His words and the look on his face were horribly tender, a startling contrast to the way his hips snapped against yours, rough and without mercy.

Your legs tightened around his waist drawing him closer to you as you came. Price didn’t slow in the slightest bit. If anything he picked up in pace watching the way your eyes flew open. Overstimulation drew you up onto your forearms, one hand shooting out to steady yourself on his shoulder.

“John!”

He chuckled the sound lost in the skin of your neck. Each drag of his cock felt like heaven and hell all at once. The overstimulation was bringing you back up to that previous peak quicker than you could form the words for. It didn’t help either the way he continued to stroke your cock, drawing his thumb in lazy circles across the leaking tip and delighting at the pitiful sounds it drew from you. You were already hard again. Painfully so.

“You gonna come again, love?” You nodded chest heaving with the effort of drawing air into your poor lungs. Price nipped at the junction between your neck and shoulder smiling. “Good.” He continued rutting into you, the slick sounds of his hand around your cock obscene in the empty training room. At this point, you were halfway into his lap and each thrust imprinted the shape of his cock to your insides leaving you a stuttering mess of his name.

Exactly how he liked you.

Your second orgasm was stronger than the first and had you clenching around his cock almost painfully. Price cursed lowly slowing his thrusts to help draw it out, until you finally collapsed against him, legs twitching and breaths coming in short puffs. He lifted you slowly off him and you sighed in relief. His cock brushed against your stomach still leaking precum. Lazily you reached between your bodies intent on finishing him off with your hand but he swatted it away.

“On your stomach love. Ass up.”

The fucked out haze of your mind swirled curiously trying to process his words. You lifted your head searching his eyes in confusion. “Sir?” You asked voice shaky, looking every bit the fucked out mess you were.

Price couldn’t help the sick satisfaction he felt at being able to reduce you to such a state. “C’mon Sergeant,” He eased you up and then pushed you onto your stomach, your face pressed uncomfortably to the mat. “I’m not done with you yet.”

A/N: I’m honestly not too happy with how this turned out but it’s been sitting in my draft for like a month lmao. As always though thank you so much for taking the time to read this mess- have a lovely lovely day

[mockerycrow]

11. With Price!

SMUT PROMPTS: Price Drabble; “Tying Them Down As Punishment” (Male!Reader) - NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Price huffed as he tested the silk ropes that held his wrists to the headboard of the bed, finding that they’re tied firmly—realistically, he could get out of them if he truly wanted to, but he knows he needs to follow your rules. You hold a bullet vibrator in your hand and you him as you turn it onto a medium setting. “Oh, c’mon, honey..” John complained, his pupils dilating as he eyes the vibrator in your hand.

You grinned as you pressed the vibrator against the length of his cock, earning a sharp gasp from Price. “Jesus—!” He curses, his hips immediately jumping—either away or towards the sensation, he doesn’t know. “All this because you wanted to jerk me off under a table..” You making a tsking noise, John’s desperate gasps nearly overpowering your voice. “fUck, love—I’m, I’m sorry, mMh, I’m sorry!” John pleads. It’s too much, it’s not enough, he needs more-

You sigh and watch the way he moans and twitches, his wrists aching to get out of his restraints. “Are you, though? Even after I came all over your hand, you kept going. Was one load not enough for your greedy mouth?” You growl, focusing the vibrator on his tip. John can’t help but cum, a broken moan leaving his lips as his cock spurts out cut across his stomach and chest-you loved “punishing” John for being uncharacteristically greedy.

[xappetites]

this was supposed to be a little Price thought but it got away from me and it's 1112 words

warnings: fem!reader who's decided kids aren't the best idea for her, mentions of sex and breeding kink, brief mentions of a disordered relationship w/food

“Are you still planning on children?”

It takes John a minute, in the post coital haze, to understand the question his wife whispers from the bathroom doorway, naked in the easy way of years together.

She stands there, skin reddened in the places he was just holding onto like a lifeline, and she looks at the towel in her hands instead of him. It’s steps, between them, but they turn to ice for John, a little Siberia in the middle of South East London.

“Loaded question, isn’t it, love?”

“You brought it up,” she breaks the frost, moving to settle on the edge of the bed, right next to him. Her towel is warm, he realizes, as she works it over where he’s drying itchy with sweat and cum. Barely wet and gentle on his skin.

And John knows what she means, can still feel the words on his tongue: I’ll fill you, love, fill you ‘till it takes. He doesn’t regret them, doesn’t want to regret them because it gets him there in record time, does the job so well for him that just thinking about them has his cock hardening again to the warmth and the wetness and the subtle pressure of her hands.

But that’s all it is, a fantasy that ends here, when he cums. He doesn’t spend his days imagining his wife pregnant in his daily life. In fact, now that he thinks about it, the thought’s strange, leadens his stomach with an irrational sort of anxiety. He spends too much time away, too far removed from this unstoppable woman, to think of her vulnerable and not feel a certain kind of madness tugging at the threads of his self control.

“Do you want children?”

He counters, buys time, though he knows it’s unfair to twist the question on her. They talked about it, once, before the marriage, when they felt younger and the future seemed so terribly malleable. John said it might be good to have a couple. But he didn’t want to be a Christmas dad, seeing his offspring every four to six months and have them cry in his arms because they don’t recognize a man who’s more thought than father to them.

He’d planned to retire, cut back at least, before he’d consider any children. And now he can’t, not with so much to do. He couldn’t sit by a desk and watch other people forced into the kinda shit only he —and Kyle and Soap and Simon— will voluntarily sign up for. So it’s looking more and more like it might not happen for him, and he’s comfortable with that.

But they’d agreed, back then, on an indefinite but small amount of kids. And now his wife, the one with an actual life and a home where she welcomes him, is not looking at him as he refuses to answer. Not until he hooks his fingers in the crook of her knee and smooths his thumb over her thigh. She sighs at the touch, leaves the towel in favor of drawing nonsense patterns over his stomach.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to have children, John”

He frowns, but waits in silence. There’s something sad hiding behind the fleeting smile she gives him, something guilty that makes him brace himself for movement. The impulse he’s felt since the moment he fell in love with her, to fight for her, against the world. Like he’s an attack dog, built for violent resistance in her name.

“My body feels off, some days, like I don’t belong in it. I skip breakfast sometimes, I leave the metro a station back, for the walk.”

Her voice is soft, but her eyes are unrelenting, now that she’s started. And she rushes through the admission, makes it a simple stating of facts, like making the shopping list.

“I don’t think I can survive having someone else in this body without hating them, and a baby doesn’t deserve that. I don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

John’s heart balloons in the quiet of the moment. He can’t help the lopsided smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth, which he realizes isn’t a reasonable reaction. But it’s this, the clarity and the unflinching honesty, why he adores her so completely.

Whatever ache is in the confirmation of closing this particular door, outweighed by the pride of knowing she trusts him with the naked, uncomfortable truths of her. And that, John supposes, is what burns at him and he doesn’t know how to put into words when he talks about filling her up, when he thinks about breeding, in the most primal, basic sense of the kink. He just wants to make himself a part of her, wants to know her to the last little cell and live in the spaces between them.

“So if you want to have children, I think we would have to consider other options.”

That comment brings John’s focus snapping back to her hands, to the way she spins her wedding band, tugs on it until it hits the speed bump of the knuckle, a gesture he isn’t sure is conscious but that telegraphs exactly where her head is at.

“You’re all I want, love. No hypotheticals.”

“John—“

“No,” he catches her hand, pulls it back to his chest. He uses it to anchor himself, sitting up to kiss away whatever objection she’s cooking up. “I don’t say what I don’t believe in, right?”

“Right,” her stance slackens and her body tilts forward so her torso slots against his, a perfect fit.

“Won’t bring it up again, love.”

“I like it,” it’s a mumble against his neck, his jaw, that turns into kisses that follow the line of his beard. “Just wanted to let you know, in case—“

John simply hums, keeps the groan in his throat, the one she likes best; because however tempting her sweet weight is on him, he’s weighing his options for breaching the other touchy subject this impromptu conversation raised, on a cold morning in the middle of his first week home in a while.

“About the eating—“

“I have it handled,” she says, stretching and twisting until her legs end up on each side of him again, "I'm trying."

"Ok. But you'll let me know if you need something from me, right?"

She nods, pulls back from him just to grin like she's misbehaving, or just about to.

"Could I have another round for now?"

And John laughs against her until she's squirming at the feeling of his whiskers on her skin, 'cause how could he ever deny his favorite girl.

[morbid-mutt]

This is just a little thing I wrote after being inspired by the AI Cover Swing - Simon "Ghost" Riley. I hope you enjoy! Look forward to more COD fics in the future. (Especially König, my beloved)

Music cascaded through the dimly lit club as the scent of cigars filled the air. Y/N stood near one of the several bars situated throughout the establishment, dressed in a sleek black button-up and black trousers that hugged his form. The Private's eyes scanned over the mass of dancing bodies, the earpiece he wore buzzing to life before Price's voice invaded his senses. 

"Alright, men. Gather any intel you can manage about the Narcos deal with Russia. Keep a low profile. We meet up at midnight."

With that, Y/N pushed away from the bar with a drink held in his hand as he ventured through the crowd. He would be lying if he didn't say he was nervous. This was his first big mission after joining Task Force 141, and he was determined to make an impression. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Gaz casually chatting with a stunning woman with his arm slung across her shoulders. The older soldier caught his gaze over her shoulder before nodding, the smile returning to his face as he engaged the woman again. 

Y/N situated himself in a far corner of the club, hoping to get a better vantage point of the bustling crowd. His ear pricked at the sound of hushed voices exchanging words back and forth in Spanish.

"Fucking gringos. Why the fuck is Valeria even making a deal with these idiots." 

Y/N's eyes narrowed at the sound of the infamous Sin Nombre's actual name, casually bringing the glass of scotch to his lips and taking a sip. The liquor burned in his throat and warmed his body as it slid down to settle in his belly. Bingo.

"Keep it down. Do you want to get your shit kicked in by one of Makarov's men?" 

Y/N clenched his jaw as he fought the creeping tension gathering in his shoulders. This mission was intended to be recon only, but this might be stickier than planned. He tossed his head back, downing the remainder of his drink before setting the empty glass down on a nearby table with a clink. 

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He knew he had to act fast if they were going to gather any helpful information before the night was over. He scanned the room once more, taking note of the exits and the location of his team members. He spotted Soap near the dance floor, blending in with the crowd effortlessly as he gathered intel. He was glad to have experienced soldiers like Soap and Gaz on his team.

As Y/N made his way toward the group of men speaking in Spanish, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear in his gut. What if he got caught? What if he blew his cover? But he pushed those thoughts aside, reminding himself of his training and the importance of this mission.

He approached the group with a confident stride, his expression neutral. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Mind if I join you?" he said in flawless Spanish, a small smile playing on his lips. The men looked him up and down, sizing him up before one of them spoke up.

"What do you want?" he said, eyeing Y/N suspiciously.

Y/N kept his cool, "Just some friendly conversation. I couldn't help but overhear your discussion about El Sin Nombre's deal with Makarov. Care to share any more details?"

The men looked at each other, weighing their options before one of them spoke up. "Why should we trust you?"

Y/N took a step closer, his eyes locking with the man's. "Because I'm a businessman, just like you. And I know a good deal when I see one." 

The men exchanged a few more words in Spanish before one of them leaned in and whispered something in Y/N's ear. Y/N nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as he made mental notes of everything he was hearing.

As the group dispersed, Y/N returned to the bar, his mind racing with the information he had gathered. He needed to warn the others before things got out of hand. His eyes swept over the club before settling on a familiar masked face. 

The Private pushed his way through the crowd of swaying bodies as he approached the edge of the dance floor. Y/N stopped a few feet from the Lieutenant, suppressing a snicker at the large man's appearance. He was dressed in an outfit much similar to his own, with the addition of a surgical-style skull mask covering half of his face. His tousled blonde hair was slicked back with gel. Even from where he stood, he could see the outline of his powerful muscles where the button-up clung to him.

Y/N was used to seeing the Brit dressed in his standard tactical gear, so seeing him dressed like this was almost funny. Ghost's eyes narrowed at the sound, turning to face the nearby Private. He approached the shorter male in a few quick strides as the current song faded out. 

Y/N shook his head, the smile tugging at his lips faltering as he looked up at him. He needed to stay focused on the mission. 

"LT, I gathered intel on a possible meeting. Sounds like Valeria and Makarov are going to gather here tonight."

Riley's eyes flickered between the people surrounding them as trumpets blared, signaling the beginning of the next song. Y/N nearly jumped out of his skin as a rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. "Blend in." 

"What-?" The Private's words stuck in his throat as his superior tugged him onto the dance floor. "Just follow my lead."

Ghost's hand lifted to rest on his waist as his other hand slid down to capture Y/N's hand in his. The Private's eyes widened in surprise as he stuttered up at the larger man. 

"S-Sir, I don't know how to-"

Y/N stumbled a bit as Ghost led him onto the dance floor but soon found his footing as the rhythm of the music took hold of him. As they moved together, Y/N couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement coursing through him. The way Ghost moved was like nothing he had ever seen before, his body fluid and graceful as he led Y/N in a passionate dance.

The Private's heart pounded in his chest as he looked up into Ghost's eyes, feeling a connection between them that he couldn't explain. Ghost's eyes never left Y/N's as they moved together, their bodies pressed close as they swayed to the music.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh as Ghost spun him by his hand, jumping as another set of hands gripped his hips. Suddenly, he found himself pressed against a different body, looking up at the smirking face of Sergeant "Soap" MacTavish. "Evening, Private. Can I have this dance?"

The Private's voice was caught in his throat, unable to answer as Soap's hands moved to wrap his arms around his broad shoulders before returning his own hands to Y/N's hips. 

Soap wasn't nearly as graceful with his movements as Ghost's, swaying their bodies together to the rhythm of the music. The smirk on the Sergeant's face never faltered as their feet shuffled against the floor. Y/N couldn't fight the smile that pulled at his own lips, finding his superior's playful nature infectious. 

It wasn't long before Ghost's arms wrapped around him once more, pulling his back against his muscled body as he danced between the two men. "Alright, Y/N. Give us the low down." Ghost's gruff voice thrummed against his ear, slightly muffled by his mask. The Private struggled to find his voice with Soap's hand pressed against the small of his back while Ghost's hands rested on either of his hips. 

"I-I'm not sure when or where, but it sounds like Sin Nombre and Makarov are meeting tonight. Overheard it from a few of Valeria's men."

Soap grunted in acknowledgment while his hips continued to sway in tandem with the other two men. "Doesn't sound too good. LT? What should we do?" Ghost hummed in thought, his intense blue gaze meeting the Sergeant's. "I'm not too sure, Johnny. Relay with Price and see what he thinks is the best move."  

Soap released Y/N from his grasp, nodding his head to the two. He leaned down with a smirk as his eyes connected with the Private’s gaze, “Well, we’ll have to finish this another time then, won’t we?”  before disappearing into the crowd. Ghost spun the Private in his hands, returning to their dancing position once again. 

As the song reached its climax, Ghost spun Y/N around before dipping him low, their faces just inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in his throat as he looked up at the man who held him so effortlessly.

His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath, his cheeks warming into a blush at the close proximity of Ghost's masked face. A crowd had gathered around them, watching the performance between the trio. There was a buzz of static in his ear before Price's voice came over the earpiece. 

"So much for a low profile. Alright, lovebirds. Focus on the mission." 

Ghost cleared his throat before lifting Y/N upright once more. His hand lingered on the Private's waist, if only for a moment, before he leaned down to speak against his ear. "Good work." The Lieutenant let his hand fall from the curve of Y/N's hip before pushing his way through the crowd of dancing bodies. 

Y/N's heart pounded in his chest as he stood there, unable to process what had just happened. He shook the clouded thoughts from his mind before returning to the bar. He raised a hand to flag over the bartender, raising his voice to speak above the music that had begun to play once more. “Bossman, another scotch, if you will.” 

Just as he was bringing the glass of his drink to his lips, Price’s voice sounded over the comms. “Evac in 10. Too many civilians to engage with the Narcos and Makarov’s men.” Y/n let out a sigh before tossing his head back and downing the scotch in one gulp, the liquor warming his body. The Private sighed as he pushed away from the bar and approached the club entrance, where he met up with the rest of his teammates. Gaz had a shit-eating grin on his expression while his eyes flitted between Ghost, Soap, and Y/N. 

“Lose the smirk, Garrick.” Ghost’s rough voice barked as Soap lifted his hand to hide the laugh that escaped him. A large SUV pulled up just outside the doors and honked its horn. The group of soldiers filed out the door before climbing into the waiting vehicle. Y/N found himself between the two men for the second time of the night, his cheeks involuntarily warming with a blush as he was practically squeezed between their hulking forms. 

Y/N dared a glance up at Ghost, noticing he was staring straight ahead, his face creased in its usual stoic and unreadable expression. He turned his head before looking up at the Scotsman on his other side, who caught his glance and winked slyly down at him. The Private cleared his throat and forced his eyes forward, his stomach clenching with nerves. The drive back to the base felt like it went on for an eternity; an odd tension crackling in the air between the Private and his superiors sat on either side of him.  ---

Several days had passed since Task Force 141’s undercover mission, and Y/N found himself sitting in the briefing room as Captain Price discussed the next steps in their plan to infiltrate the deal between their enemies. His eyes were trained forward on his Captain as he spoke, paying close attention to his instructions before a quiet humming caught his attention. Wait. Is that what he thought it was? Y/N glanced over at Ghost, who sat a few seats away, the blue orbs of his eyes focused on his underling as he hummed. The Private could tell from the slight crinkle of Ghost’s eyes through the hole in his mask that he was smirking. 

He blinked his eyes rapidly before turning his head back towards the front of the room. He must be imagining things. Just as he started paying attention to Price’s words once more, he heard it again. This time, the humming was accompanied by the sound of someone’s foot tapping against the tile floor. There’s no way this was actually happening. 

Y/N turned his head to stare at the duo with an incredulous expression on his face. The Lieutenant was humming the melody of the song that they had danced to as Soap’s foot tapped the beat with his boot. The Sergeant’s lips tugged into a smirk once he saw that Y/N had noticed their actions. The Private’s cheeks burned even hotter as he forced his gaze forward again, desperately fighting to stay focused on the briefing. 

Once the meeting was over, Y/N made his way into the common room of the barracks, settling down onto one of the couches with a sigh. He let his eyes fall closed as his head leaned back against the cushioned seat. This upcoming mission wasn’t going to be easy by any means and likely dangerous. He was determined to earn his place amongst the other soldiers on his team, so he would give it his best no matter what. His mind was so distracted that he didn’t notice when an all too familiar duo made their way into the room, only opening his eyes when a quiet click sounded from the corner of the room. 

Music began to play from a speaker as Y/N sat up from his position on the couch, his eyes widening as he looked at his superior officers. “I said we’d have to finish this later, didn’t I?” Soap said, his voice laced with his thick Scottish accent. Ghost silently made his way to the couch, taking Y/N’s hand in his own before leading him into the middle of the room. 

The Private’s voice caught in his throat, unable to form words aside from stuttering unintelligibly. The thoughts of the upcoming mission completely disappeared from his mind, only able to focus on the feeling of Ghost’s rough hand against his own as he lifted it up to wrap around his shoulder before doing the same with his other arm. The Lieutenant’s own hands shifted to rest on his hips, guiding them to sway to the sound of the music. 

Shortly after, another pair of hands joined Ghost’s on his hips as he felt Soap’s body press warmly against his back. Y/N stammered as his cheeks burned hot yet again, overwhelmed by the closeness of his teammates. He could practically feel the warm breath of Soap’s words against the shell of his ear as he spoke. “Ya know, Simon and I have been talking. About that night..” 

Ghost gave a slight nod of his head in agreement, his eyes staring intently down at Y/N as Soap continued, “We couldn’t help but notice how perfectly you fit between us when we were dancing..” Y/N’s mouth dropped open, unable to process the words that were being spoken. Soap’s lips moved to brush against the nape of his neck, goosebumps raising against his skin. The Private gulped loudly as a shiver ran through his body at the feeling of lips against his sensitive neck. 

“So what do you say, kid?” Ghost finally spoke up, his gruff voice tinged with something that Y/N couldn’t read. The Brit leaned down, invading his personal space as the trio swayed to the beat of the music. “Wanna be our dancing partner?” 

Soap’s lips brushed against his neck as he spoke again, his fingers tightening their grip on his hips, “Please, say yes.” Heat spread through Y/N’s body as he hesitated momentarily, mulling over his thoughts. Finally, he breathed in a trembling breath before nodding his head, “Y-yeah, alright.”

With that, Soap’s lips tugged into a smile before he began pressing kisses along Y/N’s neck and shoulders. Ghost chuckled deeply in his chest before releasing one hand from the Private’s hip, reaching up to push his mask just beneath his nose. His scarred lips were quirked into a smile of his own as he leaned down further, his eyes seeking permission in the Private’s eyes. 

Y/N gave a minute nod of his head before Ghost’s lips pressed against his own in a slow kiss. Butterflies crashed around the Private’s stomach as he returned the kiss, wracking his brain. This didn’t feel real. Was he dreaming? Johnny’s voice whispered against his ear as the Lieutenant pulled away from the kiss. “My turn now.” The Sergeant’s gloved hand moved from his hip to cup the smaller male’s cheek, guiding his head to look over his shoulder as his lips pressed against Y/N’s. The prickle of his stubble rubbed against his chin as he returned the kiss once more. 

Soap pulled away from the kiss with a smile, his hand returning to his hip as the song drew to an end; the three men lost in their own little world, even if only for the night. 

“Stay with me, Sway with me.~”

[fortheloveofkonig]

The way I want to write some COD x M! Reader but so not fucking confident in my knowledge of COD or these boys and my writing skills.

But holy fuck we need more M! Reader, like so much more. M! Reader fluff too. There's such a fucking lack of it 😭

[nolapoppypola]

I love a father - child bond (*´∇`)

Makes me forget about my daddy issues (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

Dad | platonic!John Price x m!reader

Anonymous asked: hello, I was hoping you could do a price and m!reader ,with the reader being a young soldier in the 141 who price personally trained so there’s that sort of father son bond , with the prompt “this is the sixth fight I’ve had to stop you getting into, what’s going on?”. I kinda have an ideas that the reader keeps getting in fights with the older soldiers cause they don’t think the reader is deserving of being in the 141 but you don’t have to do specifically that. Thank you:)))

summary: Price’s treatment of you does result in some tension between you and the other soldiers. 

tws: swearing, violence, smoking 

Lazily, you stretched as you folded your arms across your chest, eyes feeling heavy as you yawned so harshly that your eyes watered and your jaw ached; Price had gotten you up early, said something about one of your old RAF colleagues coming over to see how you were doing, and now you were shattered. Price was lucky that he was family, if anything; after he had taken it upon himself to train you up when you first joined the army, seeing you all the way through to joining the RAF and then taking you under his wing so that he could train you for the task force before you joined it under his command, it was hard to think of him as anything else.

Keep reading

[stankygay]

m!reader x 141

Prompt: You suffer from PTSD~

Gaz: He finds you on the ground at the showers. You are sitting with your head between your thighs, your breath coming out quick and short. He kneels before you, he hesitates to touch you, unknowing how you will react. Gaz reaches a hand and ever so gently touches your shoulder. You flinch, your head rises. Red eyes of falling tears. Gaz is frowning but you forgot how to breath. He talks to you but you can't hear him. He feels distant. He stays with you in the showers as you start coming back to yourself. When you're back he asks you what happened. You frown ashamed of your reaction but Gaz is always so sincere. Always caring. You tell him what happened as you lay your head against his chest. He rubs your back, the weight of him holding you feels good. Right, you were going to shower. He asks if you'd like it if he joined you. You nod and you both shower. You feel like yourself again.

Price: You're waiting for exfil. The mission was a success. The adrenaline pumping in your veins is still blatant but the rush starts to change. You feel like you cant breath. It had been a close call. Your men were injured but fine overall. Your tac vest had taken a hit, but nothing piercing. Price is talking over the radio as his gaze moves over to you, as if sensing the change in atmosphere. Your eyes are distant. You don't know why but it feels like you're a private all over again. You had been shot in the gut, you'd been dragged to exfil. Your friend had died. You bled so much that you couldn't lift your arms. You haven't thought about this in a long time. Price calls your call sign trying to get your attention. You turn to him with unfocused eyes. "Doing alright,"he asks. You nod. Back at base Price stops you. You frown at the captain. You want to undress and lay down. He asks what happened. You don't tell him. He sighs, asks you to join him. He leads you to his office, pulls out whiskey and hands you a drink. He doesn't ask, he lets you speak first.

Ghost: He knows. It's the way you attacked the recruit. It was an accident, you had apologized at the young recruit. They had you in a chokehold, the air gone from your lungs. The familiar feeling of when you had been captured for a short stint. Waterboarding is different from a chokehold, but the lack of oxygen felt the same. Ghost understands. He's quiet, he hands you a tea when you are at the mess. It's his way of showing support. You sit in silence and drink your tea. Comforted that you don't need to explain yourself.

Soap: He notices as well. He has a keen sense when something is wrong, when someone doesn't feel well. He turns to you quickly. Soap is hurt, he's holding his side and you are helping him walk. You don't know why you feel cold sweat over your body. You don't know why you feel like Soap is going to vanish if you don't hold him tight enough. He stops you from walking and you try to pull him along. He stops you and forces you to look at him. "You solid,"he asks. You nod mutely. He needs medical attention. You won't think about how you feel foreign in your body and mind. How you feel like you aren't in the present. Your focus is Soap. He lets you continue helping him walk. When the medic sees him you feel the panic start to set in. He keeps looking at you. You start pacing and fidgeting. He grabs your hand to stop your fidgeting. You pause and look at him. He gives you a gentle smile, and your let out a large exhale. He's fine. It was just a graze. "Let's finish that tv show when we get back,"you agree. It's a distraction and you are thankful for it.