#ghost x Price

[tojisun]

orgasm denial but it’s—

“cum in her, lieutenant, and we will haf’ta punish you,” price growls like simon isn’t leaking as he humps his cock in you.

or when you’re giving him head, he has to whine out when he’s cumming cuz the last time he didn’t and shot his spunk down your throat, you and price edged him for the whole night. simon couldn’t even fuck his fist and find a pathetic release through that when you left and price slithered back in his office because price locked simon’s dick in a fucking cock cage.

and when he finally does rasp it out, you are quick to pull away, his dick sliding out of your mouth with a pop, only to have price grip his cock; his thumb, skin roughened by their work, pressing on simon’s slit.

and when he glances at his captain, his cock pulses at the flat look price gives him. because price looks uninterested, if not slightly disappointed; because price is looking at him like simon’s a fucking dog.

you nuzzle your face on his thigh with a soft laugh. simon snarls—it used to be you in his spot; it used to be you who was touched and fucked and punished until you’re crying, cunt leaking, throat all ruined. it used to be him whom price saw as an equal—

you look up at him with a quirked brow; price reacts instantly, his fist tightening around simon’s dick even more.

“behave,” price rumbles, his voice a measured command.

simon clenches his jaw.

[devil-in-hiding]

Ghost getting you a dildo that’s a mould of Prices cock, he probably didn’t tell you that’s what it was, he just wanted to see you all stretched out on his captains cock. Of course what he didn’t expect was how much he desperately wanted to use the dildo on himself. Everytime he saw how much pleasure it brought you he was desperate for it. So, he gives it a try. And fuck does it feel good. He just can’t help himself, he has to take a video to send to Price. A video of him desperately fucking himself with his Captains cock over and over. And god does that video drive John insane. Ghost has no choice, he has to ask you if you can have a three way with him and John. And to his excitement you agree. When John joins you in bed though, you can help but notice how familiar his cock looks…

-🫧

The familiar stretch and burn of him filling your cunt, pushing all the air from your lungs as you toss your head back, and John is caressing your thighs, cooing down at you as one of his hand slides down to thumb your clit, small jerky circles that have your legs tensing and sobbing as John pushes deeper. “Atta girl, biiiiiig stretch sweetheart. C’mere Simon, give your pretty girl a kiss.”

[gomzdrawfr]

one bed trope with Price and Ghost but instead of slow burn and lots of hesitation is just them beating the shit outta each other trying to get to the bed im talking Ghost yanking that old man by his ankles and Price shoving his palm into Ghost's face

they will begrudgingly stuff themselves into the one bed, cursing all the way until exhaustion finally knock them out

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - You won't be cornered in your territory and that's final. You begin to make little presents for your trespassers should they dare to enter your woods. Meanwhile, the four alphas find something very interesting...

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. The reader is officially a bad ass

Prologue

You stared down at the nest you had created and suddenly felt disgusted and angry. These alphas have stepped onto your territory and made you react like this. Three years of near bliss, despite the struggles, gone. The anger rolled over you in waves, it boiled your blood to the point you felt hot all over your body.

No. You weren't about to cower in your cabin and let some stupid alphas wander all over your territory. You were going to do something about it. You marched back towards your living room and opened one of the closets on the side of the hallway. You grabbed the bag full of supplies and swung it over your shoulder then looked at the shotgun leaned against the wall.

You hesitated only for a moment before you grabbed it too. Even in the times before the world ended you hadn't been one for conventionality. You preferred to be alone on your own property living your own life. And no alpha or beta, whether back then or now, was going to take this from you. You shoved the extra ammunition into your pockets and unbarred your door.

The cold winter air nipped at your skin and distantly you could still smell their combined scents. You pulled stuffing from a torn apart pillow and stuffed it up your nose. Happy hunting indeed, you thought as you stepped off into your piece heaven that would become their hell.

"Hey captain," Gaz said as they wandered through the very small town. It had likely been abandoned for ages. The first thing Gaz had noticed was that the windows were smashed in but the doors boarded up. Then he noticed the marks, spray paint in different symbols meaning something or another. "I think this place has been completely stripped bare."

Price hummed thoughtfully and turned to look around at the other buildings. All of them in similar states of disrepair but all with symbols sprayed onto them. He turned to his team, and contemplated their next steps. "Do you think they might still be around?" Ghost spoke up finally.

Price glanced at his lieutenant. They had stuck together when the entire world had completely gone down. First the electricity and then a disease. It apparently didn't take much else to throw the world into chaos. People killed people all the time before but not even Ghost had been prepared for the level of depravity some people dove to. Kidnapping local omegas, killing betas or hunting alphas for sport. Blowing up buildings and ransacking stores.

They had all stuck together as a pack since that was what they had always done. They wandered from place to place and it had taken them a little over a year to make it back to the UK. Bonds grew stronger and their ruts continued. They were all each other's support. Price considered the facts in front of them.

"Negative. I don't think whoever did this is still around," Price said as he eyed the pharmacy. The only building not having been closed off or marked with an 'x'. "Soap, Gaz, go investigate the pharmacy, me and Ghost will try to find any other buildings not marked."

They wandered around the town for a bit with Gaz and Soap meeting back up not long after they had departed. "Over tae counter medicine like Advil but nae much else," Soap tossed Ghost the bottle who looked over it.

"Not expired yet. Good find."

"Wait," Gaz suddenly said and sniffed the air. Everyone paused, Gaz had the best nose of them all. Able to sniff out any scents even days old. He walked over to a telephone pole that had a red smear on it and sniffed with his nose almost on the old blood.

He felt his cock chub up his pants immediately at the scent. At first it smelled like sweat and dirt but underneath that was a tangy, sour then sweet like a granny smith apple or a green grape, scent. An unmistakable smell of omega.

Gaz turned to the three other alphas, "There's an omega around." He grinned.

Hehe I'm gonna have fun writing this

Liked my fic? Buy me a Nutella jar

I do not give any permissions to repost my work, use it in AI, translate my work or any other thing. All rights reserved with me.

[karlachismylife]

So, we all know Simon is covered in freckles, beautiful constellations blooming on his pale skin, nature marking the perfect paths for kisses along his collarbones, down the dip of his spine, scattered on his arms.

And his face, of course, little spots on his nose and cheeks, sneaky ones all the way up to his eyes. Hidden from everyone, full attire, a mask and smear black providing cover for the shy stars, like clouds do on windy, humid autumn nights. Cold and detached wrap to keep this weird sign of life on a living dead body from overly curious eyes.

But not from his Captain. Price knows these freckles, he's seen them young and bright, he's seen them dull and almost invisible on a half translucent skin.

He's seen them disappear, long, cruel winter and the mask almost grown into Ghost's skull wiping everything besides uneven scars and black ingrained into his skin. He's seen the summer taken out of his boy, replaced with the dead sleep of the winter, white and icy like Simon's eyelashes.

And, frankly, he won't have that.

If there's not enough sun for those little specks of life to shine, be it London fog half of the year or excruciating cold of the northern polar night they're stuck in on an op, Captain Price is giving his Lieutenant a personal sunshine. One that will melt polar caps if you let it shine in full brightness, hot, unpredictable in its flares, relentlessly glowing and cutting it's radiation through any barier.

Deadly as a burning globe of gas can be. Sergeant MacTavish.

Johnny doesn't have a problem with disregarding laws of physics. If this sole, dark, barren planet of ice refuses to circle him like everyone else does, Soap flips all those heliocentric theories over and instead makes a satellite to Ghost out of himself. Simon's joints stop aching when the shared space heats up, air few degrees away from rippling around Soap's broad form like it's boiling overhead a fire pit. His breath appears visible again, contrast to the almost non-existent fog that was leaking out of his mouth, making everyone who knew (not many of them) wonder, if Simon Riley actually ever left his grave.

One day, Simon's knuckles turn white and hurt. One day, Simon's frosty lashes flutter and not a single cloud of steam exits his mouth. One day, he feels frozen in place despite being basked in molten sunlight of Johnny's gaze, because Sergeant's restless hands found a makeup pen and are swiftly covering Simon's flushed cheeks in freckles.

Crowded constellations, all little sister stars from the MacTavish clan, clinging to Simon in semi-permanent kisses.

Price walks in on them, Simon sitting with his hands clenched tight and his breath held, Johnny with his tongue stuck between his front teeth as he keeps bringing spring out of its long dormant state on Simon's once again alive face.

Just like a sun should. Just like Captain Price expected.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 22] || [Chapter 23]

Rating: E Pairing: Ghost x Price || Price x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 500~ cw: angst, selfish john price, thinking of someone else while fucking (mental cheating? idk) Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: this is angsty. this is NOT gonna please some of you. john is a selfish man.

Chapter 22.5: Cardiff, London, Cairo, Cabo, Tel Aviv.

John doesn’t know how it happened.

One moment he’s leaving, the next he’s on top of you on the bed.

You’re whining needily as he slowly rolls his hips against yours like it’s the first time.

You’re lying on your back, your legs are spread on either side of him, your ass propped up on his thighs as he kneels on the mattress.

“You’re so beautiful on your back like this, fuckin’ ‘ell…” John murmurs as he pulls you up to him, one hand snug around the small of your back, the other around your shoulders.

Your chest presses tight against him while your feet struggle to find a perch on the slippery edge of the mattress, your arms wrapped tight around his shoulder, hoping your weight doesn’t make him lose balance.

His lower arm rocks you back and forth on his cock, drawing more mewls of pleasure from your lips before he captures your mouth in his, your tongues blurring together.

For a moment he’s not in Hereford, in your flat.

For a moment, there’s a piercing poking his tongue, and another set of them rubbing against his lower belly, threatening to catch on his happy trail of hair.

For a moment he’s in Simon’s apartment in Cardiff.

For a moment he’s on a rainy rooftop in London, doing a stakeout on an armed militia leader.

For a moment he’s in Cairo, in a sandy warehouse, dead bodies around them, after stopping an arms deal.

For a moment he’s in Cabo, South Africa, sneaking back into a sex trafficking cell safehouse after it had been emptied, under the guise of ‘checking it over one last time’.

For a moment he’s in Tel Aviv, having prevented a missile launch that almost cost both their lives.

Cardiff, London, Cairo, Cabo, or Tel Aviv…

He’s always fucked Simon like this. His pants just barely undone, Simon perched up on his lap, rocking back and forth on his cock, his moans being quieted by a tongue down his throat.

The only difference is that they’re usually huddled together in a corner of a room, so that no one spots it…

And not in the middle of a bed, in a comfortable, cosy, homey flat, where the only thing keeping you from serving as a counterbalance and landing you both on the mattress again is John’s sheer strength.

Tossing you down onto the mattress again, he breaks the kiss and rubs his open mouth across your cheek, down your jawline, and onto your neck. “So good f’r me.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re not Simon…

But you definitely make Simon happy.

He saw it in his eyes.

You make Simon happy in a way John never quite could.

And he makes you happy too…

John knows he’s not exactly a selfless man. He’s quite selfish, in fact.

But you’ve just extended him an opportunity to join you in making Simon happy.

And he’s bloody taking it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

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[goatgoesmbe]

GhostPrice just does something to me.

Like this intimidating looking fella with a scary reputation, got the biggest daddy issue

Acting nonchalant and just grunted when Price said something like "Attaboy Simon", like it didn't send a shiver down his spine.

And Price probably knows what he's doin

[moody-alcoholic]

I'm deep in a Price X Ghost one shot.

Price eating Ghosts ass post nut, stretching him open with his thumbs, cum dripping down his chin, muttering how good Ghost is doing.

Cut to Ghost whimpering, grinding on Price's face, doing anything he can to force Price to fuck him through the overstimulation, while his cock throbs in his hand.

safehouse

🫠

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Beneath the Shadows

Pairings: Poly 141 x shepherd’s daughter! Medic! reader

Warnings: Character injuries, Forbidden Romance, Spice

Authors Note: I love yall, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The scent of antiseptic filled the med tent, a mix of blood and metal laced with tension. You, as the head medic, had become accustomed to the chaos of the battlefield, patching up the bodies of soldiers who risked their lives daily. But nothing could have prepared you for the sight of them—Task Force 141, wounded and barely holding on, brought back from a mission gone terribly wrong. Your father’s squad, his most trusted men, and the very soldiers he had banned from being near you in any personal way.

Task Force 141 had always been more than just a team—they were a unit, bound together by trust, camaraderie, and the intense experiences that only those on the battlefield could understand. Their connection had grown over time, transforming from friendship into something deeper, a bond that went far beyond what any military regulation could define. Soap, Ghost, Price, and Gaz shared more than just missions; they shared a life, a relationship forged in the fires of combat and kept secret in the shadows of duty. They were already each other’s in every way that mattered, an unspoken understanding between them that their love, though unconventional, was unwavering.

And yet, as you laid eyes on them, Soap’s broad frame slumped against the door, Price’s commanding figure catching his breath, Gaz wincing in pain, and Ghost—silent as ever, blood seeping through the fabric of his gear—you felt something stir deep inside you. You’d always been drawn to them, in ways you knew you shouldn’t.

“Let me help you,” you said, your voice steady though your heart raced.

“Do your worst, lass,” Soap replied, his voice laced with a cocky grin despite the deep wound in his shoulder.

You couldn’t help but smile back, but the danger of what you were doing weighed heavily on your mind. General Shepard had always made it clear: his daughter was off-limits. He had issued threats before, warning that anyone who even looked at you the wrong way would be dealt with. But even Shepard couldn’t control everything—not the chemistry, not the quiet looks you exchanged with the men of 141 when your father wasn’t watching.

They were all tough, hardened soldiers, but here, in the confines of the med tent, they were vulnerable. And something about that pulled you in closer, even as you worked to patch them up.

The room was dimly lit, and you found yourself alone with them after hours of frantic stitching and disinfecting wounds. Ghost sat still, his mask hiding most of his face, but you could feel the weight of his gaze as you worked on his arm. His voice was quiet, almost soft beneath the rasp.

“You should be careful, y��know. We aren’t supposed to get this close.”

You knew the truth in his words, but the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers and the way he shifted ever so slightly towards you made it hard to think straight. You bit your lip, trying to focus, but the weight of his presence was intoxicating.

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, though it felt like a half-truth. You could feel his breath, warm against your wrist as you adjusted the bandage. Every movement was calculated, but there was something undeniably electric in the air between you. It wasn’t the first time.

His gloved hand reached up, just brushing your waist, so lightly that you almost missed it. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You swallowed, your pulse quickening as you glanced over at the others. Price had dozed off in the corner, exhaustion overtaking him, and Gaz had his eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly, though you doubted he was asleep. Only Soap seemed to notice, his sharp blue eyes flicking toward you and Ghost.

“I think we’re the ones in danger, mate,” Soap muttered under his breath, the teasing note in his voice enough to make you flush.

The next few days were a blur of stitching wounds, checking vitals, and avoiding your father’s looming presence as much as possible. The men healed quickly—quicker than you expected—but as they grew stronger, the tension between all of you only thickened. Each stolen glance, every accidental touch, felt heavier, more charged.

One evening, you found yourself alone with Soap. His shoulder had healed enough that he could move around freely, though you still insisted on checking his bandages. His humor had never dulled, but tonight there was something else in his eyes—something darker, deeper.

“You know,” Soap said, his voice a low rumble, “you’re always takin’ care of us, patching us up. But who’s patching you up, lass?”

The question caught you off guard. You stilled, your fingers resting against his bare shoulder. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the rough texture of scars mapping his muscles. He had always been charming, playful, but there was something different now—an edge to his voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t need patching up,” you whispered, but even you didn’t believe it.

Soap’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the world outside the tent didn’t exist. No war, no mission, no rules. Just you and him.

“You’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath. “But your father…”

You froze, torn between the pull of his words and the reality of the situation. You’d wanted this too, but Shepard’s shadow hung over every thought, every action. If anyone found out…

Soap’s thumb moved to your lips, and you leaned into the touch despite yourself. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, but the tension in his voice told you he didn’t want to hear that.

“I can’t…” you whispered back, though your resolve was fading with every heartbeat.

The forbidden encounters didn’t end there. Price was more cautious, keeping his distance, but his gaze lingered on you longer than it should have. He was the leader, after all—the one who would bear the brunt of your father’s wrath if things went too far. But that didn’t stop him from finding you late one night, after the others had gone to sleep.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he cornered you outside the tent. The night air was cool against your skin, but his proximity made it hard to breathe.

“You don’t have to say it,” you replied, trying to maintain some sense of professionalism, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

Price’s hand came up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips. “I’m saying it because I care,” he growled, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly. “If he finds out…”

“I know,” you whispered, your resolve crumbling as your lips met his in a heated kiss. His mouth was demanding, urgent, as if he knew this could be the only moment you would ever have. The taste of whiskey lingered on his breath, mingling with the scent of smoke and leather, and you melted into him, every thought of consequence slipping away.

It wasn’t long before everything started to unravel. The tension had grown too thick, too palpable, and the others noticed. Gaz, who had always been the quiet observer, finally cornered you one afternoon, his eyes filled with both understanding and frustration.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he said, though there was no anger in his voice—only concern.

“I don’t have a choice,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

But you knew the truth. You did have a choice. You could stop. You could pull away from all of them, follow the rules, and return to your father’s world of safety and order. But the thought of losing them—Soap’s teasing grin, Ghost’s quiet strength, Price’s intensity, Gaz’s steady presence—was unbearable.

That night, when Ghost found you sitting alone outside the camp, he didn’t say a word. He simply sat beside you, the weight of his presence comforting in its silence. After a long while, he spoke, his voice barely audible beneath his mask.

“If you stay, you’ll have to choose.”

You looked at him, your heart aching. “I don’t want to choose.”

His gloved hand rested on yours, warm and steady. “You might not have a choice.”

In the end, you knew the truth. The path you were walking was dangerous, but it was the only one that felt real. You couldn’t imagine a life without them, even if it meant defying your father, breaking the rules, and risking everything.

You made your choice that night beneath the stars, your hand still resting in Ghost’s. It was a choice born not just of passion, but of something deeper—a connection that went beyond the battlefield, beyond the rules of war and family. And as you walked back into the camp, ready to face whatever consequences came your way, you knew one thing for certain:

You were no longer Shepard’s daughter, bound by his rules.

You were your own person.

And you were theirs.

Days passed, but the tension between you and the men of Task Force 141 never eased. Every touch, every shared glance only deepened the connection that had been growing since the moment you first patched them up. Despite General Shepard’s ever-watchful eye, the bond between you and the team had become undeniable.

It was Ghost who broke the silence first. One evening, long after the camp had quieted down and the shadows of night had draped themselves over the tents, he found you again. This time, there were no words exchanged, only a shared understanding. His hand slipped into yours beneath the stars, the cool leather of his gloves warm against your skin. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes. He wasn’t alone this time. Soap, Price, and Gaz emerged from the darkness, standing together in solidarity.

“We’re done hiding,” Price said, his voice steady but filled with conviction. His eyes, dark and intense, locked with yours, and there was no hesitation in them. “We’ve been through hell and back, and we’re not letting this slip through our fingers because of a few orders.”

Soap grinned, that mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. “Aye, love. We’re not the kind to follow rules anyway.”

You felt your heart swell in your chest, the warmth of their presence, their resolve, surrounding you like a shield. They had always been fearless on the battlefield, but this—standing up against General Shepard, against the very regulations that bound them—was a risk none of you could ignore. Still, you knew you couldn’t walk away from them now, not when you’d seen what you could be together.

Ghost’s quiet voice broke the silence. “You’re one of us now.”

His words hit you like a wave, a confirmation of something you’d felt for a long time but had never dared to name. This wasn’t just some fleeting attraction. It was deeper, a bond forged not only in passion but in trust, respect, and the shared understanding that only came from fighting the same battles side by side.

You looked at each of them—Soap’s playful grin, Price’s steady gaze, Gaz’s soft smile, and Ghost’s silent strength—and you knew, without a doubt, that this was where you were meant to be. No matter the consequences.

The day came when General Shepard’s suspicions grew too strong to ignore. You had always been careful—each stolen kiss, each secret night spent in their arms was hidden away behind layers of duty and discipline—but Shepard wasn’t a fool. He knew his men, and he knew you.

When he finally confronted you, his voice was a growl, eyes blazing with fury. “I told them to stay away from you. I made it clear. How could you do this?”

But you didn’t flinch. For the first time, standing in front of your father, you felt no fear. The weight of his authority, his rank, meant nothing compared to the love you had found in the arms of Task Force 141. “Because I love them,” you said, your voice calm but unyielding. “And they love me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, but you held your ground. In the end, Shepard couldn’t bring himself to punish you or the men. The bond between you all was unbreakable, and not even his orders could tear it apart. He turned his back, bitter but resigned, knowing that some battles, even for a general, couldn’t be won.

In the weeks that followed, the shift in your relationship became impossible to hide, but it didn’t matter. The secrecy, the sneaking around—it was all over. You were theirs, and they were yours. The camp might have whispered, but no one dared say a word against you or Task Force 141. They were legends in their own right, and now, so were you.

You woke one morning to find yourself entangled in their arms, warmth surrounding you. Soap’s body pressed against your back, his arm slung lazily over your waist. On the other side, Ghost lay silent, his breath steady as he rested beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. Price sat at the edge of the bedroll, sipping his coffee as the early morning light filtered into the tent, while Gaz stirred sleepily beside him.

It was a strange, beautiful thing—the way you fit into their world, and they into yours. There was no need for words, no need for explanations. You were a part of them now, just as they were a part of you. The love between you wasn’t bound by convention or tradition, but it was real, and that was all that mattered.

And as you drifted back to sleep, surrounded by their warmth and the quiet strength of their presence, you knew one thing for certain: you were home.

Hope you enjoyed! Please like or reblog!- Midnight💜

[tb-png]

Good lil lieutenant - 🎣 👻

Admsksjrhfkakakss priceghost……. i abstain from making anymore comments for fear of my digital footprint

Patreon |

[tojisun]

!! nsfw; threesome (the sex doesn’t happen tho LOL); shifting povs; sorta pt 02 of this

"do you feel nervous when i stare?" he asks.

it is a soft question, rumbled from the base of his throat tentatively as though not to spook you. still it makes you flinch, body locking on the bed as you shift your anxious eyes towards him.

john, he said when he introduced himself to you. call me john.

you were so enamoured at finally seeing him—you traced the way the skin around his eyes were wrinkled in his smile, or how the careful rise of his lips were hidden behind the tufts of his beard. you couldn’t even contain the bubbling feeling pooling in your heart, excitement and nervousness mixing in miasmic waves because there he was, just as kind as simon told you he would be. just as careful.

simon promised you that the most, after all.

("cap'n's soft," he murmured as he held your hand, his thumb swiping along the ridges of your knuckles. "he tries to deny it but we've all seen how he indulges."

he turned to you then, expression unreadable even in the absence of his mask. simon studied your face, searching for something, until he stopped—you wondered then if he found whatever it was he had been looking for—and brushed his knuckle against your cheek instead.

"y’ve got nothin’ to worry about." he met your gaze again. "he’d love you just as much.")

you never once doubted him, of course, but you’ve only ever been with simon. only ever had to be conscious of his gaze, only ever had to work for his desire—not that you needed to do much, or so simon tells you. 

you don’t know how to exist for someone that isn’t simon and his attentiveness—burning in the way he bears down onto you, pressing himself against your tender parts to devour your gasps and your whimpers. 

you don’t know how to be desirable for someone that isn’t simon.

but—

john looks at you like you’ve ignited the same fire that burns within simon’s eyes. it’s all so feverish, rippling in magnitudes, until the slow trickle engulfs you whole. it makes you squirm, feeling so constrained within your own body, like you need to be doing something more than sitting before john like a pretty prize.

too caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice the familiar bearing presence beside you until a rough hand pinches your chin to make your head tilt up. you bite down on a choked gurgle of your surprise, trying your best not to react, but your efforts don’t matter much, anyway. not when trained eyes pick up at the tremors of your hands and at the way your breaths pass through in quiet wheezes.

simon locked gazes with his captain from the top of your head, but john only looks at him with the same small smile, the one that always spoke of how pleased he is. it makes simon turn to you, his own body thrumming with the muted press of his desires. 

“won’t you answer him, love?” he croons, pulling you from the depths of your thoughts—see, captain? aren’t i good?—and watches with nothing short of pride as you nod.

john devours the sight you and simon make with anticipation, pretending that his cock isn’t heavy from where it’s pressed on the inside of his thigh. 

he doesn’t even know how long he’s waited for this day; for the time when he finally gets you and simon both. all he knew was that the wait was torturous, tipping his desperation into its ragged course, forcing him to suppress his wants by burning through work with wild ferocity. not even his fist had been enough on the days when the need was yowling from his jowls. 

so when simon had finally stumbled into his office, his own body poised like a taut string, john realized what it was that he came to price for. 

he felt like a rabid dog that was told that he could bite; that he could sink his fangs into the soft parts of the flesh he caved so that he may feast. 

“yes,” you finally murmur, beautiful in your bashfulness, answering his question—do you feel nervous when i stare?—with honesty.

“y’r just.” you pause to lick at your lips. “y’r just so much more than what i thought.”

“oh?” john asks, intrigued. “and you don’t like that?”

“i do.”

simon and john watch as you clench your hands into fists, eyes ducking down again in your shyness. the tension is building, amping up heatedly, and they wonder if you’re even aware of what you do to them.

“i just don’t know how you’d like me.”

such a soft sentiment—you worry about how john would like you as if you haven’t been the fuel of his carnal dreams. as if he hadn’t stayed awake at night, holding himself in his fist as he imagined how you would sound when he’s taking you; how you would look when you’re at the precipice of your pleasure. would you cry? would you whimper? would you hold onto him as though that would ground you from the apex of your euphoria?

don’t you know? he’s saved every video that simon sent to him?

“y’ve got nothin’ to worry about, doll,” john grunts as he leans back against his seat.

he pats his lap. “c’mere an’ i’ll show you what you do to me.”

you clamber to your feet, stumbling over in your wobbling excitement. it’s endearing, how you’re just as much desperate for him as he is to you.

john tilts his head just enough to meet simon’s eyes, mirth building at ghost’s obedience. he’s been silent, watching, devouring the way you and john gravitated towards each other like a man starved. john knows what he must be waiting for.

he hums to himself as hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you to his lap, his other hand rising to cup at your cheek, desperate to touch you every way he can. still, there’s something else he wants to do. so he twists you just enough that your head is resting on his shoulder and tipped to the lone body on the bed with interest.

(simon knew it. you look absolutely heart-shattering with his captain.)

“you too boy,” john barks out, his heart lurching at simon’s full-body tremble. “don’t you want y’r reward?”

your fists grip the scruff of john’s shirt and he wonders, so choked up with his anticipation, if you haven’t seen simon like this. if simon was always the dominant one between you two; the one who always demanded things off you.

(oh but you have seen simon in his submission. gods, you have. and he was so beautiful then, whining to you as he humped his cock into the warm press of your walls, his face nuzzling the column of your neck as though that would muffle his pleasured hymns.

as though you couldn’t feel just how beautiful your perfect love is in the throes of his bliss, trembling, mewling. splintering, unable to force himself back into the mask of his indifference.)

you watch as simon rouses from the bed, slow like he is postured for his own hunt. it makes you ache, unable to discern exactly why all of you fit with each other, just that you do. you’re not even torn between who to bend over to—john had made sure you and simon knew it was him who will call the shots.

simon’s hand falls on the valley of your spine, caressing you, before he pitches forward, hovering before john.

it’s john who gives him the kiss—the reward, as sweet as eden.

and right there, as they lose themselves, you know nothing else could ever be as erotic as this.

me too, you want to say, i want one too. but they’re already shifting, muscles rippling, as they turn to you—a prey caught in between.

[devil-in-hiding]

So I originally started with just the thought of SoapGaz in a hot tub, then it turned to SoapGaz going on vacation with GhostPrice

now it’s Ghost and Gaz making a bet on who can seduce a John faster in a little getaway the captain oh so nicely planned for his men-

[gomzdrawfr]

🍪Christmas baking shenanigans🎀

Requested by my supporter: Price making cookies with Ghost. Ghost memorized his grandma's recipes. Price could burn water, so he's on cookie cutter duty

[icyblogs]

sigh still on my brokeback mountain thinking thonks. this time a rift off of ghostprice. poor little you- set to marry Price. then the summer before the ceremony hits, and he comes back .. different. you two get married- practically pushed onto the older man from your family. he doesn’t open up to you- not like he ever has before anyway- so you continue to be as good as wife as you could be. naive, young- too inexperienced to know otherwise of what was happening outside your relationship.

eventually the first year passes, when you finally meet this ‘Mr. Riley’ your husband has mentioned in passing. he was his fishing partner. it was laughable really, when you first met the man. a fishing partner? more like a rabid dog, taller and broader than your husband as he stares you down opposite of the table. calculating. expectant. knowing. and when John finally tells you later that he was spending the night, was it ever a surprise when that night turned into two? two into three- and then you’re shackled, stuck as you’re thrust into a relationship that you never wanted. is it really a surprise when your ankle grows brittle with the cuff cutting into it. is it a surprise when you’re meat- a feast for the two men to sink their teeth into? a delicacy, tender flesh that blossoms so beautifully when touched.

you should have known better to ever let him into your home. after all, give a stray a bone, and it’ll never want to leave.

[lyraa-kill]

I love poly141 so much I need soap cuddled up on Gaz and ghost falling asleep with his head on price’s shoulder and price hugging soap from behind and ghost fluffing gaz’s hair with a kiss on the forehead and-

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 21] || [Chapter 22.5] || [Chapter 23]

Pairing: Ghost x Price || Price x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K cw: drunk kissing, cheating (mentioned) Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: we find out what happened in cardiff. i love vulnerable john.

Chapter 22: What is it about you?

“C’mon, Boss, up you go.” Simon told him as he hoisted the man up to his feet by wrapping an arm around the small of his back, and tossing the other over his own shoulders.

“I don’t know how she could do that to me, Simooooon,” John’s words and feet dragged a bit and tripped over each other, uncoordinated due to the excess alcohol.

John was constantly self-sabotaging back then, feeling sorry for himself, mourning his relationship and the wife who took advantage of his common absences to justify her need to step out on him.

When John was sober and busy with work, he was still the same as always: deadly efficient, a good communicator, a great strategist…

But when they went on leave…

It left Simon having to be the one picking up the pieces. Simon’s moved to Cardiff from Manchester many years ago, not quite enjoying Hereford enough to want an off-base flat in the same city as the base, and, now that he’s separated, John’s also moved to Cardiff to stay on Simon’s couch.

Or it would be his couch if he didn’t get pissed every night and leave Simon fearing for his life and the fact he might vomit and suffocate in it in the night, so he carries him to bed every time. The bed might as well have been John’s at that point.

Somehow he was able to wrangle John back to his flat.

He helped the man get into his bedroom and lowered him into bed before he pulled off the beanie from his head, then his boots, tossing his legs onto the bed a bit aggressively while the captain sobbed while lying back on the pillows…

“You’ll be alright, Captain.” Simon always tried to say some kind words to ease the drunk, heartbroken man, though he knew it did little.

Simon was strangely thankful Price was a sad drunk instead of an angry or violent one like his own father.

Simon bent over him to unzip his jacket and then was able to curl the man up against his shoulder in order to shimmy his jacket down his arms, like a toddler.

But something about that touch, almost akin to a hug, awoke something in John.

Just as he lowered the older man’s torso down to the bed and his head onto the pillows, he suddenly found himself unable to move, his shoulders being hugged tight by one of John’s arms.

His face was inches from John’s, their noses almost touching, their eyes locked. John’s blue irises were glassy from the alcohol and the tears.

The look in John’s eyes was freaking him out. He was still crying, but he was eerily quiet, not murmuring utter nonsense or pure vitriol for his wife and her lover…

The Mancunian tried to slip John’s arms off him. “C’mon.” He grumbled as he craned his neck back to try and wrangle off the embrace.

“Stay…” John pleaded, his eyes softening, his brows lowered pitifully.

“I’m right here, Boss.” Simon assured him as he once again tried to take Price’s arm off his vise-like grip around him.

It didn’t work. The grip just got tighter, his body trembling beneath Simon’s. “Please, stay...” He implored.

Before Simon could realize what was happening, his lips had been captured by John’s, a slow, tender thing, almost like John himself wasn’t 100% sure of what he was doing (and he really wasn’t) but wanted to do it nonetheless.

There was no tongue action, just a rubbing of lips and an exchanging of breathy sighs before Simon was smart enough to pull away, eyes a bit widened for what they had just done. 

But Price seemed like he was still on the verge of crying, teetering the edge of his fear of being rejected again. He just needed affection....

Simon’s own eyes softened as he saw the state Price was in. He took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. Giving up on getting out of the embrace, he simply nodded. “Fine. I’m stayin’.”

Carefully, Simon toed off his own shoes and took off his fleece jacket. He tossed everything on the floor haphazardly, before he shifted around the bed in John’s embrace and vaulted over him, coming to lay on the other side of the bed.

John cuddled up to Simon’s body and, tentatively, the blond wrapped his arms around Price’s shoulders and neck as the brunet sunk in the embrace and hid his mustachioed face in Simon’s neck, big burly arms wrapped around the narrower part of his waist.

Price resumed his sobbing, hidden in Simon’s arms, hugging him uncomfortably tight, like a lifeguard buoy in open water. 

Simon ran his fingers over John’s hair, caressing his scalp with his fingertips. “Not going anywhere, John, I promise.” Simon assured him.

-

It’s 10 P.M. and you’re just turning off your TV to move your lounging to the bedroom when the doorbell rings.

Once again, you’re not expecting anyone… But the lads have gotten much better at warning you in advance when they’re dropping by… So it puts you on edge again.

Tip-toeing to the intercom, you murmur into the receiver. “What?”

“It’s John, darling.” The voice of the older man comes through, causing your eyes to widen. What’s he doing here? 

You buzz him in all the same. Only once you hear his knuckles rapping the door, do you open it, finding him standing on the other side.

He’s wearing an army green fleece jacket, a black hoodie, tan cargo pants, and black boots. And he doesn’t look particularly happy.

You let him inside and he has the decency to take off his boots, jacket and beanie, before he gestures you both onto the couch.

The memory of the way he kissed you and tossed you both down onto it last time he was here comes flowing back and you look away and take a breath to suppress it.

“The lads told me about the four of you” He tells you as he looks at you, sitting by your side, your knees just barely brushing, his hands clasped together and hanging between his thighs.

“They did?” You ask him, earning a nod in reply. “You didn’t know this whole time?” You ask again.

“No.” He says simply. “And they didn’t tell you I tore ‘em a new one for what they’re doing?” He returns. 

You shake your head, which makes him sigh. “Figured as much.”

“You need to know that-”

“I promise I don’t-”

You both cut each other off and blink away the confusion before you do that weird shimmy of trying to let the other talk.

He ends up taking the initiative. “You need to know that it’s puttin’ ‘em all at risk to be seein’ you and each other, especially each other. Simon’s my second-in-command… and it’s against the code of conduct for ‘em to be with their ‘boss’.” He explains.

His explanation makes your eyes soften and you look away with a sigh, mirroring his pose and letting your hands hang between your legs. “I didn’t know it’d get ‘em in trouble…” You explain.

Taking another deep breath, you shift around in your seat. “I was about to say I promise I don’t want to get them in trouble or steal them from work or making you have to call like… dozens of times again to get them to come in, because I know that was bad, even if it was an accident but-” You rant a bit.

John’s watching you closely as you justify yourself and them and promise you have the best of intentions, how you like them all so much and you could never dream of getting them in trouble and…

“What is it about you?” He interrupts you, causing you to face him suddenly and stare at him.

“Pardon?” You ask him, blinking slowly before raising your brows.

“Why… Why them? All of them?” He asks.

Your face scrunches a bit, your brow setting over your eyes. “Are you trying to insult me? That feels insulting.” You grumble.

He sighs and shakes his head, before rubbing his eyes with his middle finger. “No. I- I’m sorry.” He says as earnestly as he can. “Just trying to understand.”

“Some people have a thing for men in uniform but that means they date multiple of ‘em across a number of years… They don’t usually form a… harem with ‘em all at once.” He explains.

The idea of a harem makes your face flush warm and look away. “I don’t know.” You reply directly. “Maybe there’s just something wrong with me.” You say directly. 

John keeps staring at you as you speak. “I went from a very unfulfilling relationship, I don’t know if I ever mentioned that to you-”

“You did, at the pub.”

“Right, well…” You trail off. “I went from that to… being alone… and then to having a one-night stand with you and then… it was like I woke up one day and had three boyfriends.” You remark and scratch your arm awkwardly.

John’s face scrunches, his mouth disappearing beneath his mustache as he keeps looking at you closely, noticing how awkward you seem. 

“I really don’t want to get them in trouble…” You tell him as you glance up at him, the corners of your eyebrows lowering as you look at him.

He goes quiet for a moment, simply making eye contact with you, as if trying to read your intentions through your pupils.

Then, his hand reaches across the space between you and he gently cups both your hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “You really like ‘em all, don’t you?”

“Mhm.” You reply and nod.

Sighing, he nods. “Just try to keep from kissing in public to a minimum, will ya? Don’t need the brass knowing and having my arse too.” He tells you.

Smiling and chuckling again. “Wouldn’t you, in that case, be in more trouble because you started this whole thing?” You joke.

He nudges your thigh with his knee and rolls his eyes playfully. “Don’t you start, too… I already had to deal with Soap, Gaz and Ghost making comments.” He complains.

“Oh, please… Ghost told me all about how peppy you seemed after that night you spent with me.” You retort and he rolls his eyes again before he taps his thighs with his palms and stands up off the couch.

“I needed it. Did me good.” He replies as he moves back to the door and puts his shoes on.

You follow after him, watching him closely as he puts his outdoor clothes back on. “Did me good too.” You reply.

He chuckles a bit. “Oh, trust me, darlin’, I remember fully well how ‘good’ I did you.” He jokes and winks at you.

“Oh, shut it…” You grumble as you watch him open your door and stand just outside of it, looking at you closely.

“Shame it’ll never happen again. I could’ve used a repeat.” John quips casually. “Have a goodnight.” He kisses your temple and starts walking down the hall.

“Wait, hold on!” You interrupt him, causing him to stop a few feet away, looking at you in the brightly lit hall. Clearing your throat, you swallow dryly before you lock eyes with him and speak again: “What’s stopping it from happening again?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FLASHBACK FULLY INSPIRED BY:

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