#captain John price

[shkretart]

We were talking about Nik and Price and I have a couple of sketches with them... (not the cleanest sketches, but...)

also AU with young boys. I know many people don't like it, but I do it to cheer myself up

[ghouljams]

More thoughts about CEO!Price's horrible assistant that hates him.

Youre forced to admit that the man might actually be competent when you're forced to sit through two days of meetings. Taking minutes on your company issue laptop while the C suite goes through the brand refresh and the fiscal year. Team leaders keep showing up at pre-planned times to present on what their section of the company will be doing, and Mr. Price always has a good question or helpful remark to guide the conversation. It's actually astonishing to see the man do work that requires any amount of brain power considering you were under the impression he was using every brain cell to annoy you.

He doesn't even glance your way in the 36 hours of meetings, dinners, and happy hours that you helped the internal events team organize months ago. It's like the holidays came early. Except the gift is that you don't have to submit an HR complaint into the voice for a whole week. Not that you'd have any time to do that with how much you're running around.

The problem with being competent at your job, you suppose, is that you actually have to do your job.

You end up spacing out by the end of the last presentation, your fingers numbly tapping at your keyboard as your eyes lose focus. Your eyelids feel especially heavy this afternoon, and you can't stop the gentle dip of your head as you try to keep from nodding off. You were up until 3am last night prepping for the all hands meeting tomorrow morning. Not to mention the all-nighters you've been pulling just to make sure Mr. Price has talking points for today. (You should've passed this off to marketing but God they're just so swamped.)

You barely notice the heavy hand that settles too high on your thigh to be work place appropriate. Your body is so warm, your head burning from lack of sleep, your laptop screen wavers in your vission, and a neatly trimmed beard scratches your cheek as Mr. Price leans close.

"Why don't you go lay down in my office sweet'eart." He tells you, the low rhythmic cadence of his voice makes your eyes drop. His thumb sweeps a slow circle against the inside of your thigh, pushing at the hem of your skirt.

Your head nods for you. Mr. Price's free hand shuts your laptop, the motion slow and purposeful, plenty of time to object(and move your fingers). You should object, but your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth. It's all you can do to raise your gaze off your closing screen to meet him. He squeezes your thigh and your eyes blink too heavily, your head starting to loll to the side.

"Go on, no help to anyone dead on your feet." He pushes, nodding his head towards the door.

"Sorry," you relent, standing to smile at the group of men who wouldn't know your name if it killed them. They barely seem to have noticed your presence. Mr. Price hums, his hand smoothing over your hip as you turn to go.

"Good girl," he purrs. You assume he must be holding himself back around an audience. The same way you assume you're imagining the squeeze to your ass that he gives you before you're out the door.

[scales0fjustice]

Finally got into the fandom after playing og cod 💪

[mushroomfairy7]

[sigh-tofm]

the night before they leave for deployment…

… price

- takes you out. you go to an expensive restaurant and eat the best they have. cost is not an issue. price orders two fingers of their finest bourbon and you get a glass of whatever you want. you go for a little walk after, hand in hand, just pretending to be two regular people in a regular relationship. you’re home at a sensible time (price needs to sleep a fair few hours before deploying) and you sit in the bathroom, gazing at him as he trims his moustache with that hard look in his eyes. he’s had last nights like these too many times to be wondering about what is waiting for him in the morning. he knows it won’t be pleasant, so there’s no use in pretending. later, in bed, he pulls you onto his chest and holds you there, knowing the next time it he falls asleep it will be with a cold, hard rifle in his arms. better savour your warm, soft body for as long as he can.

… kyle

- just wants to be intimate with you. not sex, but closeness. you sit him in front of the bathroom mirror and trim his hair, he lays you down on the rug in the living room and works through all your muscle knots. you do facemasks together. you sit side by side on kitchen chairs pulled into the bathroom with your feet in the tub, taking a footbath together. you uncork one of the your fancier bottles of wine (kyle only has a small glass, can’t risk getting hungover the day after) and drink it with your favourite takeout. you go to bed together, holding each other, breathing each other in. if this is the last night, it better be the best night.

… johnny

- has you in his favourite positions. you let him manipulate your body and fulfil his fantasies with you. afterwards you take a long shower together, you touch up is mohawk after, stroke him all over. committing every detail, every scar and mole, to memory. he does the same with you, although you suspect it’s mostly to have wank material for late nights or long watches when he’s deployed. no matter. you order takeout when you’re both dressed again, eat it on the floor in front of the sofa while watching a stupid comedy. anything to take your minds off of the inevitable. you go to bed late and he spoons you. you don’t mind how tightly he holds you, knowing that when you wake up, you will be alone.

… simon

- behaves a little eerie. you don’t know exactly how he changes, how he becomes this ghost-person you have only heard stories of from johnny. you know simon tries to keep you away from it all and never brings work home, least of all his mask. he spends the last night with you on the sofa, him sitting sideways and you on his lap. you’ve ordered good food, and while you eat and watch the movie, he watches you. boring into you with those amber eyes. you don’t comment on it, understanding that this is some kind of ritual for him. knowing that you are real, that you exist, that he needs to come home to you. you speak very little, only pragmatic sentences about passing the pop. the first few times it unnerved you, the way he was so quiet, but now you enjoy getting to be what he needs, however little you understand the process. eventually you both fall asleep on the sofa, and when you wake up you’re tucked neatly into bed, alone.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Bubble bath with Old Man!Price

[fruitmilkshake]

This you, Ghost?

he hears you

a redraw of @cod-dump's post [original post here]

[fictionismyreality3]

Not Going Anywhere

Warnings: romance and every that comes with it, SMUT SMUTTY SMUT, daddy kink

Notes: you know who you are babes 💕💖

Your initial meeting with John Price had been embarrasing. A broken heel and a sewer grate in front of a military base didn't exactly make the best combination. But he had been a gentleman.

The offending shoe had been rescued and you left with a number and a new contact in your phone, one that he'd insisted on creating himself. One date turned to two, and soon you found yourself moving in with him months later. Domestic bliss was a good way to put it.

Still, even after 8 months, there was a lingering voice in the back of your head. Bitter, cruel, it spoke to you in whispers as you laid in bed, watching John’s sleeping face. It churned in the back of your mind, stirring that old, sour feeling you'd tried to contain in the corner of your brain. No matter how many times John consoled you, murmuring praises in your ear, worshipping your soft heart and soft body, the scab on your old insecurities remained.

And you couldn't help but pick at it.

Call it self-sabotage, but you curled in on yourself anytime you saw what you thought was a better, prettier version of you. Despite the glares John would send to the bubbly young waitresses who batted their eyes at him, you couldn't help but wonder why his arm was around you. Why did he stay with you?

He saw the doubt in your eyes, but he loved you. And he would prove it over and over again.

“Luv, I tell you every time. Get whatever y’want.”

Staring down at the menu, your eyes darted from the salad to the bacon slathered burger you wanted to order. The perky waitress stared down at you, an impatient grin plastered on her face. She twirled her hair, eying John while she kept tap, tap, tapping her stupid pen on her note pad.

"I'd like a-"

"We have really great salads, you know."

Fucking bitch.

"No, I think I'll take the-" The blonde ignored you as you opened your mouth, chattering on. "Just cause, you know.. you look like you could use it." She smiled.

John's gaze flickered up at that, a glower on his face. Suddenly, the menu was no longer very interesting.

"She'll have the fuckin' burger." The waitress paled, his harsh tone standing out in the air of the fancy restaurant.

"You'd know tha' if you actually let her fuckin' speak."

John saw it in the way that you carried yourself. The tight-lipped smile that you so often wore, expecting to fade into the shadows, unseen and unobserved. So he made sure to keep you in his sights at all times.

He was used to having eyes on him, year after year being the one people looked up to, the person people sought out if there was a problem. He was used to being seen. And he was comfortable with it, more comfortable than you could ever be. John saw the way you shrank yourself, wanting to rip his hair out any time somebody made you feel smaller. You were something made to be worshipped. People would be singing praises and scraping their knees in reverence if he had any say.

But you'd kill him if he put you in the spotlight.

The jangling of the doorknob had his head snapping up. Almost dropping the dishtowel he was holding into the frying pan, he scrambled over to the door.

His cock stirred in his pants at the sight of you. Messy hair, messy eyes, messy face. Your water bottle, keys, wallet, and scrunchie all held precariously in one had. God, he could forget the whole dinner and just take you then and there in the hallway of your apartment building. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd tried. Huffing out a breath, the thought was shaken from his head. Later.

Later.

"John?" The cute, bashful grin he was sporting let you know he was up to no good. "What's going on?"

Purse taken and set aside, your coat followed suit as his large hands guided you by the hips into the living room. Flickering candlelight painted the walls, a spread straight out of a Martha Stewart catalogue decorated the table.

"Thought I'd give you a little suprise, luv."

John held his breath. Was it too much? Should he have gotten a strawberry cake instead of chocolate? Did you still like red wine? Maybe it was too much. He could put it all away and just set up a movie. He could-

"You did all this for me?"

"I.. yeah, luvie." Your voice cracking had his heart squeezing in alarm, but the curl of your lip made him feel a little better about putting a foot wrong. "Is.. s'that okay?" Tentative. Unsure of himself for the first time in his life. He would let you take the lead, decide how much of yourself you wanted to bare to him.

"It's perfect, John." Cracked hearts sewn together. "It's perfect."

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

"Tha's it." John crooned. "Cum f'me one more time, birdie."

He'd said just one more two orgasms ago. Tumbling into bed had been a very good, and bad idea. Now he was splitting you open with his fingers, scissoring them inside of you with an expert touch. The sheets had long been soaked with your sweetness, the sight of you breathless and drooling permanently ingrained in John's brain.

Curling his thick fingers to hit that delicious spot that had you squealing, John revelled in the sounds you were making, groaning out his own pleasure as he watched you fall apart all over again.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Vaguely, in some all too cognizant part of your mind, you recall begging John to let you take care of him. The plea had been shot down so fast you wondered if you'd gotten a syllable out before he was nose deep in your pussy, eating you out like his very life depended on it. That seemed like forever ago.

"Where y'goin, hmm, sweet girl?" You blinked up at John, trying to focus through the searing pleasure. "You still with me?"

"Yeah."

Taking that as confirmation enough, Price wrapped his hands around the softness of your thighs, lifting them up and pressing them back so your knees were beside your ears. His eyes softened, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking just under the curls of your eyelashes.

"Gonna make y'feel good now, okay, little one?"

Slowly, torturously, John split you open with his cock. Inch by inch, he bullied his way in, your walls clenching and fluttering around him like you were made to take his girth. Hushing your hissed whimpers, his lips left a lingering kiss to your forehead. And then he was pitching foreward without warning.

"J-John-"

All of him, right to the back of you so you could feel him in your throat. His eyes were glued to where your already cutely plush stomach rounded from the size of him. Pupils blown out, he reached down to touched where your tummy bulged with each thrust. Rushing into his head like a runaway train, the thought of making you plump and round with his baby had his hips stuttering.

'No, not John, sweetie." Heavy balls slapped your skin, John leaning foreward you nip at your neck. "Y'know my name."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Daddy, p-please."

"Gonna make you a mama, huh?" A rough finger circled your clit.

"Gonna fill you up nice an' round with my kids." His head was spinnning.

"Fuckin' breed you-" John's cock twitched inside of you, his jaw hanging open as he panted in your ear.

"Cum in me." You squealed. "Cum in me, daddy! Please-"

Snap.

Growling out a curse, John's cock slammed into you with a pace so brutal, so deep you thought you might just pass out. His hands pushed your thighs down further, streching you, molding you into the perfect position to take his cum.

"Cum on this cock, baby." The blooming heat in your cunt grew to an inferno. "Cum 'round daddy's cock."

His hand tangled in your hair as you pulsed around him, screaming and twitching as he worked you through the most mind-melting orgasm of your life. Toes curling, your eyes rolled back and you squirted all over his abs, wetness coating him like a permanent brand. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix, cum pumping into your pretty pussy.

Breathless as he pulled you to his chest, he knew he would do anything to keep you like this. Safe. Sure. There would never be a day where you were worrying about being secure in your life, in yourself, not if he could make sure of it.

[panchulien]

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price teaches Simon how to kiss because the reclusive, introverted arsehole has never had a physical relationship where someone wanted to kiss him, and if he's gonna woo MacTavish and then keep him, he needs to know how to do it proper, like.

Neither of them expect to catch feelings, which is fockin' idiotic of them, all things considered.

[7s3ven]

Police au! TF 141 x lawyer! Reader would be too funny.

It was probably Simon who got sued and you got called in as his lawyer.

“You’re lucky you got the L/N girl. Family runs a company. Had her for one of my cases and she got the job over and done with in thirty minutes. Damn brilliant if ya ask me.” Captain Price says, patting Simon on the shoulder.

Sergeant! Simon was a tough man who proudly piled up the charges people sued him for because he won every case without a lawyer. Until this one. This case was a lost cause without a lawyer.

“What do ya’ll think she’s gon’ look like?” Jonny asked, tapping his polished boot on the tiled floor.

Kyle laughed, “Why yer askin’ that? You think you’re gonna score a date?”

“Lawyer chicks are hot.” Jonny shrugged, “And I read ‘er file. Graduated top of her class. Smart lass.”

A firm knock on the door interrupted the conversation. It creaked open, revealing Simon’s lawyer. “So, heard you crashed into a group of nuns, jumped a fence, landed on a dog… then jumped another fence and landed in some cactus?” You laughed. “And now the nuns, the owner of the dog, and the owner of the cactus are suing you. Doesn’t sound like a good day for you.”

“Ay, you got a pretty one, Serg!”

You smiled, placing your briefcase on the table. “So, tell me about the cactus. Did you look like a hedgehog after?”

[oceantornadoo]

where you’ve been assigned to working with john price on a report and the proximity is getting to you both…

(f!reader)

-

late nights pouring over reports in the base conference room with price. he tries to bring you coffee the second night and adjusts to black tea after watching the displeased twist of your lips. you start across the table, a respectful and professional distance, but by the third night, you’re shoulder to shoulder, peering over at each other’s screens silently. the information you’re reviewing is grave, life changing to the folks who live it, but you can’t help your laugh when john struggles to turn a pdf into a word document.

you give up on wearing business professional after the incident. the rip of your skirt as you jumped up from excitement, finally finding a breakthrough in your work. john’s eyes practically burned into your thigh, like the sight of your tights over newly bare skin offended him. you didn’t even notice until he pointed it out, swallowing thickly as he muttered “got a problem there, love.” before excusing himself to bring back more tea.

when you switched to wearing jeans, john started wondering if he had offended some sort of god in the past life. why was there so much bending involved in your work? bending over the table to find a report in the mess of papers, your ass practically wiggling in his face. sneaking past his shoulder so you can see if he’s made any progress, the glimpse of your thigh off the chair reminding him of what it would like if- never mind. he swore your perfume was laced into your clothes, a cloud of it remaining after you went home for the night, your familiar scent searing itself into the back of his brain.

“john?” your voice pulled him out of his trance of wondering how he’d gotten here. it had been a week of this proximity torture with no end in sight. “yeah?” your pen tapped the picture in front of you. “this guy’s copying your muttonchops.” snorting, john leaned over, staring hard at the suspect’s picture as he tried not to focus about being six inches from your lap. “nah, ‘s a different style. mine’s more grown out, his is jus’ a shadow.” you hummed thoughtfully. “didn’t realize there was so much discourse in the beard community. seems a bit confusing.” he laughed, that short bark that made you smile despite yourself.

“‘s not all that confusing. here, y’ can feel the difference.” he grabbed your hand and pulled it into his beard, manicured fingers diving into his facial hair. you scratched it on instinct and were rewarded with a low throaty groan and a fluttering of his eyelids. “so soft, john.” the normally serious captain seemed like putty in your hands as your fingers explored the line of his jaw. it was quiet for a long moment, john’s eyes closed as you took him in without his usual surly stare. “yeah, honey?” his eyes flicked open as you stopped your movement, thumb near the corner of his mouth. your mouth gaped open, the moment broken.

“fuck, i’ve made you uncomfortable.” john pulled away fast, your hand dropping his face as he moved farther and farther away. “i can ask the lieutenant to finish up ‘ere, should only take a week more.” he tried to get up from his seat but you were more determined, beating him to the punch with a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. “john, stop. it’s okay.” you’d never seen him like this: unsure. “didn’t mean to say what i said, love.” you shook your head vehemently. “it’s okay, i just…no one’s ever called me honey before. kinda thought it was a sitcom thing.”

he was doing the math, picking apart every word you said, every inflection of every letter. you could see it in his eyes, the realization that you weren’t uncomfortable. the change might have scared you if hadn’t been so damn attractive. his posture perfect again, thighs flexing as his hands, big calloused hands, laid relaxed against them. he wasn’t grinning but you saw his cheek pull up, the movement of the beard you’d just been touching. it was instantaneous; the captain was back.

“and?” he stood up, your hand still on his shoulder. “and…i don’t mind it.” he was forcing you to look up, a height difference between you that you’d never notice because you both were always sitting.

“c’mere, honey.” you stepped closer, your other arm wrapping around his other shoulder. those hands wrapped around your waist and dipped lower to your upper thighs. he picked you with ease, all protests of your weight dying on your tongue as you let out a squeal. john sat you on the conference table, pushing reports and laptops out of the way to make space for his meal. “fuck, ‘ve been wantin’ you on this table for a week now.” he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs, tracing the denim of your pants. “and these jeans.” you frowned. “you don’t like my jeans?” he shook his head, thumbs exploring your waistline, tucking under your shirt to meet bare skin. “i love ‘em, darling. want t’ see you in them everyday.” he popped the top button then looked up at you for permission. you nodded, lying back on your forearms, restraining your hips from canting.

he chuckled at your confidence, unzipping you then sliding down the denim from your legs and off, along with your shoes. maybe it had been a form of manifestation or delusion, but either way you had worn your favorite pair of lacy black underwear. john seemed to appreciative, growling at the sight as his fingers brushed over your clothed pussy. “were you expectin’ someone t’ see these?” you grinned. “maybe i was hoping.” he brushed over your entrance and your hips chased the feeling, riding up to meet his fingers. “someone’s eager.” he didn’t let you reply, pressing his thumb over your entrance, rubbing up and down around your clit as wetness pooled in your underwear. you whined at his teasing, a coil building low in your stomach. “john…” he dipped his thumb under the fabric of your underwear, tracing the slickness of your slit. “hm, honey?” his low tone sent a rush of warmth into your body, a combination of domesticity and restraint. “want you, please.” he was playing down, putting his thumb inside you but knowing the angle was all wrong, it barely brushing your entrance. “want me where?” he finally pulled down your underwear, leaning his body over you, putting you face to face. “want your fingers inside me.”

john captured your lips with his own, pushing a thick middle finger into you as he pressed his thumb to your clit. you moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in further. “so wet f’ me, baby. you been wantin’ this?” you nodded eagerly, shutting him up with another kiss. he pumped his finger in and out as he circled patterns on your clit, the feeling of it overwhelming. you were so wet and hot, this big strong man panting into your mouth as he made you feel so good. your nipples scratched the inside of your bra as your cunt clenched around his finger. he added a second one, the fullness of it almost overwhelming. “john, i’m gonna…” he gave you another rough kiss. john pulled you closer using those fingers inside of your messy cunt, thumb pressing hard on your clit. it was so possessive and dirty that you could feel the start of your orgasm. “come f’ me, darling. go’on.” you let go, clenching hard around him. he kept going unless you went limp, finally removing his fingers with a pop. his other arm was holding you up as he tasted you on his fingers. “sweet like honey.” you rolled your eyes at his cheesiness. “you’re so full of shit.” he kissed you again, short and loving. “‘m not lyin’.” another kiss, this one to your forehead. “you wanna stay here tonight? ‘s already late.” you squirmed at the realization you were half naked in a conference room, your colleagues fingers dripping with your wetness as he stood fully clothed, his cock straining against his pants. “is that weird? or too fast? i don’t even know what you want or what i want-“ he kissed you again, this time gruff, like a captain. “jus’ come home with me, honey. ill handle the rest.” and to that, you nodded.

[decaffeinatedcandycane]

Average Group Chat

Ghost: Why am I at the bottom?

Soap: I like where this is going 😏

Gaz: 🙄

Price: You are the tallest?

Ghost: Since when?

Price:

Soap: I don't know about tallest, but biggest

Gaz kicked out Soap from the chatroom

Y/N: Spoke from experience?

Ghost: Yes

Price: No

Y/N: What are you guys doing in your free time?

Gaz: You are on thin eyes L/N.

Y/N: 👀

Gaz: You know what I meant!!

Soap: 🤏 energy

Gaz: How are you back?

Soap: 😚

Price: Can we focus?

Soap send an attachment 📎

Ghost: When did you take that?

Price:

Y/N: That's some serious cake

Gaz:

Soap: Gaz you are awfully quiet

Gaz: 🤫

Price: Did you take a picture of my ass?

Gaz: No. It was Y/N

Y/N: Yeah, throw me under the bus Garrick, very mature.

Gaz: It's true though

Price: Is it?

Y/N: Nooo

Price: Tell the truth

Y/N: Yeahhh

Y/N: You know nobody can resist it

Price: Please, don't ever refer to my ass as "it". Don't make it a thing.

Ghost: Well...

Price: How many pictures are there?

Soap: Awake or asleep

Price: All of you in my office with the evidence. Now!!!

Groupchat has been deleted

[gothghostiie]

going through my Price phase hard right now, pray for me

uhm… any thoughts on BlueCollar!Price? or just any Price crumbs in general? Ghostie, I’ve become unwell for him, it’s like a disease—

that's what I've been feeling like for a year straight welcome to my world

cw: fluff, reader is a stay at home spouse, gn!reader

blue collar!price coming home from a hard day at work. sweaty, greasy, exhausted and sore. he drops his heavy boots at the door with a groan, stripping his shirt so hes in just his dirty work pants and a white undershirt thats just a wee bit too short, his chubby tummy poking out just a bit (he blames you and your 'bloody cookin' for it). hugs you from behind in the kitchen while you finish up dinner, nuzzling into you and smelling your perfume while murmuring a greeting, something about how much he missed wrapping his arms around his little bird.

grumbles as you shoo him into the shower, complaining quietly but doing as hes told, like an old dog. but that sweet pout that makes him look like a grouchy grandpa is all gone when he comes back down to a set table and hot food, his spouse smiling while pouring him a drink. he smiles and kisses your head, soft praises falling from his chapped lips. "such a good lil' thing, ain'tcha? always treating me so well, doing it with a smile too. such a good doll. youre a treat." hes got you blushing and smiling while eating dinner, offering to do the dishes - like he does every night - just to be gently cussed out and sent to the couch - like every night. now he sits there in his armchair, all that's missing is you in his lap. he's dozing, the tv running with the news or whatever is on when he turns it on, waiting for his favourite person to make his evening perfect <3

───── ⋆⋅Taglist⋅⋆ ─────

@maplewhisk

[gomzdrawfr]

not the only one who bites

bonus bcuz i like the last frame: