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konigsblog · 4 months

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cw: recording

your two neighbours, soap and price, fighting for you.

of course, price is older and more mature. he has more experience in life, and can hold back his anger more. on the other hand, soap is more lively, you're more likely to have fun with johnny rather than john as he'll actually adventure out of his comfort zone, fuck you when he's mad and give you some experience with a rough, restless man.

price doesn't even view him as a man though; he's ‘too immature’. they're both rivals for your love, desperate to prove themselves to you in the hopes you'll choose them over the other.

while johnny has a view of your bedroom, watching the way you finger and fuck yourself down onto dildos, price has a view of your bathroom, watching soap run down your tits, covered in the foamy bubbles. they might even share these photos and videos of them perving on you with eachother, ignoring their rivalry just for more porn material.

soap makes an effort to come over to yours, have the occasional hookup and send you dick pics with the caption being about you. sometimes a video, with his grunting in the background, his hard cock twitching in his hand. but, price provides something johnny doesn't; aftercare. johnny fucks and leaves, while price takes his sweet time working you and watching you come undone on his fingers before easing inside. he's gentle, tender — it's lovemaking rather than a quick fuck... he hears you beg for an orgasm, for his cum, for his babies..

and when johnny gets sent the recording of this, he can't help but feel bitter and envious. grinding his teeth together and jerking off to the video, using it as material to jerk himself off. listening to the way you cry out ‘john’ over and over again, only making him hotter and even harder and the thought of being in price's position, fucking that pussy and being begged with. :3

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yawnderu · 3 months

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GUYS GUYS GUYS. John Price.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #john price cod #captain john price #john price #price mw2 #captain price #price #mw2 price #mw3 price #jonathan price

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diejager · 4 months

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I know I already sent you an ask but could I get something for monster!141? Specifically Dragon!Price? Sorry for asking again but I love price and your writing!

Dragon Heart

Pairing: Dragon!John Price x fem!reader

Cw: knot, breeding kink, creampie, smut, fluff, morning sex, implied somnophilia, slow sex, romantic sex, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.7k

You knew dragons ran hot, their bodies powered by the kindled fire in their hearts, breathing smoke and fire with every breath they took. European dragons were creatures synonymous with fire, the powerful blaze that humans coveted for warmth, protection and destruction, but Price was all but the latter with his ragtag group. You once thought that Soap - sweet, rambunctious Johnny - ran the hottest, his body exhuming heat in plumes of vapours, his body exhausting itself from rapid muscle growth. Now you knew better, nothing burned more than a dragon itself, his heart pulsing in powerful waves, warm and soothing, his body warmed by the will of fire that thrived within him. You felt it all, his body calling to yours, naked under the sheets of his bed, cradling his face between your arms after your nightly activities that would follow in the morning —a promise he whispered on your lips.

You woke up to his soft kisses, severing his mark on your body just as his hands did on your wrists, and the rough scruff of his beard, tickling your cheek and throat as he moved down. He was hard between his thick thighs, the flushed head of his cock pushing inside you in a slow roll of his hips, your slick walls stretching around his girth. Price liked waking you up with slow and gentle sex, watching your eyes crack open while they rolled back and lips cracked open to let out a few sleepy mewls, feeling him fill you up. There was something in being woken up with Price inside of you on slow mornings, to feel the warmth of his body pressing you into the bed, soft sheets hugging you, and the heaviness of his cock, carving the shape of it inside you.

Mornings like these were full of love and affection, unhurried pleasure and gentle caresses. Price - John, you called him behind closed doors - was a devoted lover, giving you much more than he received, finding pleasure in giving rather than receiving. He was a firm, but kind hand, soft but guiding, he took the reins and watched you unravel beneath him —much like a flower blooming, petals unfurling into the prettiest blossom he knew. Price was a strong lover, caring for you through anything with strong conviction, grounding in anything he ventured into, a strong hand reminding Ghost that you were here for him, a gentle hand grounding Gaz from his slight fears, a firm hand keeping Soap in check, and a protective hand holding you close. He was everything and nothing at the same time. He gave and never asked for more, taking what was given to him with a smile and warming eyes.

While you liked the moments of shared animosity, clawing and biting at him, pressing him down on his desk and riding the life out of his cock, milking him for all his worth while he grasped and bucked into you, holding you captive under his burning gaze; you cherished these moments of domesticity, where he was neither captain nor were you his corporal. You weren’t restrained by duty or regulations, you simply held one another out of passion, one that had his heart soar and yours skip a beat. You loved him, you knew you did as much as he did, and he loved you so much that it hurt his old heart. He whispered your name, pressing his lips against yours, a soft and sensual act drawn out in lazy mornings and passionate gazes —he never failed to look you in the eyes when he expressed himself, telling you how much he cared and how much he would give for any one of you.

“Love you, John,” you gasped, hips bucked up, searching for his cock to hit a certain spot inside of you, the gummy part of you that made you cry and mewl. “I love you.”

His kiss tasted like cigar and smoke, a woody taste similar to Ghost’s earthy bourbon, but Price’s was more powerful, a distinct taste of him. It laid heavy with love, it clung to you with such boiling joy that you smiled, eyes closed. Your fingers found his spine, the curve that went up to his singular wing, a vestige of an accident that left him crippled in the air, you pressed down, hitting a knot while he fucked into you at a steady pace. He groaned, his pace stuttering, jerkily bottoming out, his balls flush against your ass and his wild pubic hair scratching your throbbing clit. He shuddered and you knew he liked it, the relief it gave him when you pressed a certain knot in his back, the one that released tension and gave him more leeway to move about freely and without restraint. It was your way to give back when he wouldn’t take.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he rasped, brows furrowed and blinking away the daze you put him in, having his cock milked and his back popped felt amazing, the immediate relief painted on his face, “You’re a blessing.”

He felt like a blessing to you, his heart, his body, his mind, and everything about him was a blessing to you and his team. A gifting dragon to his hoard, keeping and protecting what belonged to him. Words wouldn’t be enough for you to show him how much you appreciate him, you used acts, favours and everything you had to show it to him. Whether it be a sudden kiss on his lips that brought a smile on his face, the skin under his eyes wrinkling from how happy he looked, or the massages you gave him, unwinding all the tension in his body after a hard mission, hearing his pleasured groan and his struggle to stay still, to stop himself from snatching you up and give you all the love he deemed you worthy of.

You murmured confessions, praises directed at his character rather than his duty, proclaiming little whispers of love. You raked your nails down his back, fleetingly touching the base of his tail, thick and robust, curled around your leg, holding it over his hip for deeper penetration, the rounded head of his cock kissing your cervix despite your prone position —a vanilla morning sex in missionary. Your hands slipped under his arm, roving over his hairy chest and pinching his perky nipples, rolling the rounded nubs between your thumb and index. You felt him twitch, a soft moan leaving his swollen lips, still kissing you with feverish need. His nipples were sensitive, especially in the mornings when his body reacted much more than at night, he’d succumb to your little tease, jerkily thrusting into you. Every drive of his cock thickened the ring of white around his cock, the ribbed girth of it catching the edge of your cunt when he pulled out, bringing you mind-numbing ecstasy.

You could feel the coil in your core tightening, the unwinding pleasure that followed the first spasm, walls clinging onto him. You let out a shuddered breath, feeling the ribs rubbing your sweet spot and his leaky cock throb against your cervix. Slick oozed out of your hole with each thrust, the motion pushing out yesterday’s load, cream jostled out of you, squeezed around his shaft.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he groaned, bowing his head over your shoulders, his breath hot and mouth nipping at your skin, threatening to sink his teeth and mark you for the others to see, for them to strew in jealousy that he had you all night long and the following morning. He spoiled and cared for you. “I want to hear you moan.”

Moan, you did, thighs tensing when your fingers circled your swollen clit, rolling the twitching nerve in rapid motions. You breathed laboriously, panting and gasping into his ear, mewling his name with teary and burning eyes, rolling back from pleasure and the thin veil of grey smoke that rose from his lips. It smelled like cedar, a smoky incense mixed with the natural scent of cedar and his strong cigars, a soothing and bitter smell. It drove you off the edge, his smell, his warmth, his body, and his voice sent you careening over the precipice of your pleasure, an explosive fire blinding you in white light, stars dancing around your sight as you clung to him. Your walls gripped in him a vice, clenching down on his cock and hand stuttering on your clit, the bundle of nerves sensitive and slick.

He was sloppy, growling out praises, telling you how good you were for coming for him, confessing how he lived to bring you over the brink of relief and much farther, and mumbling how he’d ruin himself for you. It was wet and messy, he came with a single buck, snapping into you, his green-tinted balls slapping your ass wetly, and bottoming out, his knot catching and inflating with a deep groan. Hot cum filled you, ropes of potent semen shooting out of his red tip, engorged and throbbing against your gummy cervix. You felt like you’d bloat from how much he was spewing, imagining the bump of cock and cum under your skin, poking out in an erotic sight.

His back slumped over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him, face pressed under his chin and his wing covering you. You listened to his purr, a low sound meant to comfort you after sex or any other straining activity —similarly to a cat showing its joy and pleasure. Price always cuddled you while waiting out his knot, pressing his burning body against yours and spoiling you with words and kisses. His knot comfortably seated inside of you, keeping his load from going to waste, preventing his fertility from leaking out of you like the faucet-like jet of his tip, he murmured into your hair, nosing the few strands that clung to your forehead and kissed you deeply. You kissed back, fingers carding through his beard and bushy hair, nails scratching his scalp, being careful of his sensitive horns.

“We have the day off, darling,” Price smiled conspiringly, blazing, amber eyes brimming with mirth, “Reckon we stay in bed a while longer?”

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 6 months

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It is my personal headcanon that Price is Simon's safe person, his anchor.

#captain john price #captain price cod #captain price #captain johnathan price #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley #price mw2 #cod price #john price #call of duty price #mw2 price #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #ghost cod

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altbite · 1 year

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Incorrect Quotes *mw2 x reader*

Alejandro: Rudy and I are having a baby.

Y/n: That's gre-

Alejandro, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

Price, driving y/n and Soap: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Price: What?

Soap: We almost got kidnapped.

Price: Oh, okay.

Price: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Ghost: Y/n... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Y/n: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Ghost:

Ghost: I wrote sanitize, Y/n.

Y/n: *Stubs their toe* FUCK!

Rudy: Mind your language!

Y/n: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”???

Rudy:

Y/n: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

Y/n: Am I going too far?

Gaz: No, no, no. You went too far about seven hours ago. Now you're going to prison.

Soap: Truth or dare?

Y/n: Dare

Soap: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room

Y/n: Hey Graves

Graves, blushing: Yeah?

Y/n: Could you move? I’m trying to get to Alejandro

Y/n: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Gaz: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?

Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.

Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

Price: Listen, I can explain...

Ghost: You’re making $500,000 and you’re only gonna pay me $30,000?

Soap: You’re getting 30 grand? I’m getting $1,000!

Y/N: You guys are getting paid?

Price: Just be yourself.

Y/n: 'Be myself'? Price, I have one day to win Alejandro over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Gaz: Couple weeks

Soap: Six months.

Ghost: Jury’s still out.

Y/n: See, Price?

Y/n: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Soap: Alejandro... How do I begin to explain Alejandro?

Rudy: Alejandro is flawless.

Ghost: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.

Gaz: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.

Y/n: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

#incorrect quotes #cod #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #alejandro vargas #mw2 rudy #mw2 alejandro #mw2 price #mw2 konig #mw2 ghost #mw2 soap #mw2 graves #mw2 gaz #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #incorrect call of duty quotes

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ilovelosermen69 · 8 months

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Girls when they see a man in uniform

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

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Price randomly going “hold onto my hat for me.” placing his hat on your head and walking away without saying anything else because he likes when you wear his hat. You can’t keep it though.

#john price x reader #price x reader #cod price #captain price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price #mw2 price #mw2 x reader

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shkretart · 1 year

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Captain Price again. Resting.

#captain john price #captain price #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #mw2 price #modern warfare 2 #cod fanart

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

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disquiet comfort

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: voyeurism, implied masturbation, John is very lonely and very horny Author's Notes: I tried to get this out yesterday as a birthday present to myself, but I was so dead tired it wasn't gonna happen. Late is better than never! MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

John hears the creak of your bed springs the next morning.

He’s not surprised by it—you’re not the first neighbor he’s had, only the first he’s met. He knows how thin the walls are now, and has long passed the point of finding it annoying. He listens as the sound of your taps coming on filters through drywall and insulation at a low hum, thinks he can hear the buzz of an electric toothbrush. He wonders if you can hear his razor going as he trims his mustache.

It feels nice to have this odd company, he thinks. The two of you, going through the same motions. It strikes an old, abandoned chord—he hasn’t woken up with anyone in a long, long time.

He puts his razor down and squashes the thought flat. His neighbor—his kind, pretty neighbor—does not need him to think like that. Even if your eyes had traveled the length and breadth of his body before making it to his face.

He meets his own eyes in the mirror, giving himself a flat look. He isn’t used to civilian life. Answering the door shirtless had probably been some sort of faux pas. If you’d been looking, you’d probably been more disconcerted than anything else. That’s the long and short of it, he tells himself, because there’s no room for anything else.

John is never very good at being home. The things that keep him alive out there—hyperawareness, sharply defined mission parameters, strict operational regimens—are, at home, needs that go unmet. Liverpool is not a popular terrorist hotbed he needs to pay attention to. He isn’t going to die if he forgets to buy milk. And he can only go to the gym so often.

But he needs something to do, or he’s going to go crazy.

So today he does on leave what he dreams of in the field: he has his first of two showers for the day, makes himself breakfast in his own kitchen, and turns on the telly for the noise. It’s some dumb morning show, with too-clean hosts shilling for weird kitchen tools. Easy to ignore.

Inevitably, he thinks about Mexico. About Shepherd. About Chicago, and Hassan, and Laswell telling him he needs to get some goddamn rest before he kills himself trying to stop a war that isn’t even happening.

“Yet,” he’d ground out.

She’d just stared at him with dagger-sharp eyes and told him to go home.

John bites into his toast harder than a grown man told to take a fucking vacation should, and turns up the volume.

Three soft, polite taps sound on the wall.

John blinks. Remembers the previous morning, what he’d said to you. The remote is in his hand before he thinks about it, the mute button depressed beneath a quick thumb.

The quiet is like the end of a gunfight. Unsteady.

He waits. He doesn’t know what for. The silence stretches. He notices a shaft of sunlight coming through his window, little motes of dust dancing in the air, as he looks around his own flat for some reason. It’s habit—surveying a battlefield after it’s been passed over by violence.

He looks back to the space above the TV. Rises carefully from his seat. Goes over to the wall.

Raps his knuckles twice against it. All good?

Immediately there are two taps in response. Yes, thanks! And the break of the still silence is like a soap bubble popping. John breathes, and then realizes he hadn’t been.

There are no further knocks. It disappoints him, but he does not expect them. It’s just a friendly interaction between neighbors.

It doesn’t matter. It feels like something has unknotted in his chest.

He feels almost like a voyeur as the day goes on. He hears when you work in your kitchen, notes the muffled clang of a pan on the stove. He hears your dishwasher run later, and briefly wonders at the utility of using it for so few dishes.

You’re on the phone at one point, but he can’t make out the conversation. He only half-tries to, but the even the indistinct, low sound of your voice is comforting. It reminds him of late nights in the barracks, listening to bunk mates talk while trying not bother anyone else. The closest to domestic comfort John has really ever had.

You turn music on at one point, something soulful and a little moody. John thinks it might be Marvin Gaye, but he’s not sure. The urge to knock on your door and ask is a strong one, but he doesn’t think you need a lonely old soldier bothering you in the middle of your day. At least, not any more than he already has. And before he can figure it out for himself, he hears you exclaim “Oh, shit!” and the volume immediately drops.

He has to smile at that. It’s a rare luxury for him to experience these days, that kind of consideration.

Something in his chest gives a little jump when he hears two knocks on his wall again. Sorry, he thinks you’re saying.

He knocks twice back. All good.

He should not feel so invigorated by this exchange.

You leave the house a little after noon—he hears your door open and close, and the jingle of keys followed by footsteps quickly retreating. Then, your noise is gone.

John and silence do not go well together. Too quickly, the quiet closes in, and John thinks if he stays in his own home a minute longer he’ll suffocate from it—so he takes your cue, and leaves. He isn’t really sure what to do, but he has to do it anywhere else.

He gets home after you do, sore from the weight racks and full on pub food and a few pints. The sky is dark and the sidewalks are illuminated in yellow lamplight, and the air hums with the wind of cars driving in the distance. He sees your window lit up bright and warm, and the relief it fills him with is disproportionate to how anyone should feel knowing that their neighbor is home.

Where did you go during the day, he finds himself wondering? What are you making for dinner? What will you do once you’ve eaten?

John realizes he’s standing there staring at your window, and scowls at himself. He’s a fucking creep, that’s what he is. A pretty neighbor talks to him once, fucking welcomes him home like any nice person would, and suddenly he’s pining like a stupid little schoolboy.

He goes inside. Hears you in your kitchen again and convinces himself he’s ignoring it. Tries to find something to stay awake with. Has one cigar more than he’d planned for the day, and thinks at least he’ll get to go out and get more sooner—something to do with the wealth of time he didn’t ask to receive.

He’s already in bed, second shower finished, when he hears activity on the other side of the wall. He hadn’t really been falling asleep, but he’s wide awake now, and feeling like a pervert as he listens to your bath come on.

He hasn’t gone to bed with anyone in a long time, either.

John lays there in the dark, eyes open, and tries to ignore how easy it is to breathe as the water runs muffled only a few feet away. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he can hear again the tiny buzz of a toothbrush a little after the flow shuts off. He listens to the creak of your bed and does not think about how warm your skin must be, how softly the sheets must fall around your body.

He closes his eyes. He tries to sleep. He isn’t thinking about listening to your breathing beside him. He isn’t drifting off imagining the smell of your hair on his pillow…

He hears a tiny buzz again. Brushing your teeth a second time? No, it’s closer now…

Oh. OH.

John’s eyes fly open. Your bed creaks again. He is rigid under the covers, every muscle tensed. He breathes consciously, testing the limits of his diaphragm, counting to three between each inhale and exhale. He is desperate that his pulse remain even, that his blood refrain from rushing through his ears and other parts.

A small sound. Breathy. Low.

John slaps his hand against his thigh before it can move any further inward. He curls his fingers around the hem of his briefs, grips the fabric as if it’s going to save his damn life. Clenches his other hand into a fist, digs his nails into his palm.

What expression is on your face? What is the scent of your toothpaste on your breath?

What angle are you holding that vibrator at?

You give a low moan again.

His breath shallows out. John considers giving the wall a tap but dismisses the option immediately and ruthlessly. He will take his secret audience to the fucking grave. And he’d shoot himself before denying you this—and, he thinks shamefully, denying himself this, too.

He should get up. He should go into his living room and give you privacy. Your bed creaks again. He remembers his own mattress tends to the same disruption. He can’t move, because it would effect the same outcome as a knock—you’d know exactly how thin the walls are, know that he’s right there and that he’s only leaving after he’s already gotten an earful.

Another sound, higher. John isn’t sure he’s breathing anymore. What did your skin feel like? Would his fingers fit you better than that toy? Would his cock?

He thinks he feels a nail break skin. He tries to think of anything other than the throb of blood and heat between his legs, between your legs.

You give a sudden, high-pitched cry, one that abruptly cuts off.

John knows you’ve buried your face in your pillow to quiet yourself. His entire body twinges with the disappointment of it. He breathes so lowly as to be silent, to give space to your noise, and waits.

But the buzzing stops. Your bed shifts again, and then all is silent.

Wait. What?

Was that it?

The silence stretches. John does not move. That was it.

John does not think about how much longer he could’ve made that last. He does not think about teasing you with his hands, his lips, his tongue. Does not picture your legs hung up high on his hips.

His cock aches. He ignores it.

The gym tomorrow. And then a run. Maybe a drive to the coast, and a dip in the cold ocean.

It wouldn’t be enough, but it had to be something. John isn’t going to get a minute of sleep, and he’s going to be hearing that cut-off moan for a long, long time.

Taglist: @yeyinde @guyfieriiii @aduckingpain @jaimiespn @aconstructofamindd @trashy-panda77777 @lich1 @smoggyfogbottom @cielobgers @antigonusyukii @bubble-dream-inc @monsterhighsblog

The taglist is closed. Thanks everyone for your interest.

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mrshesh · 9 months

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Hello :D I saw that you write for Modern Warfare 2, so I'd like to request how the boys would react if you ask if they'd still love you if you were a worm! Hehehehe :p

"a...worm?" - modern warfare 2 x reader

overview: mw2 men reacting to you asking if they'd still love you if you were a worm

pairing: mw2 men x gender neutral reader, romantic

genre: fluff

a/n: hi anon! thanks for the request, it's really funny. i had a blast writing this. keep them coming!

x simon "ghost" riley

He would turn his head super slowly in your direction after you ask, and you can practically see the look on his face, even with his mask on 😭

He hits you with one of his side eyes, processing the question as he blinks judgementally at you.

“Fuckin' hell." He immediately sighs.

“Well? Would you?"

"Sure."

He would indeed love you, and yes, he would feed you and take care of you.

Realistically, Simon would keep you in his pocket at all times. He would also try to teach you self-defense! (Would it go horrible? Absolutely. But it’s the thought that counts.)

x john "soap" mactavish

“A worm?” He sits back in his seat, looking down at his shoes as he digs into his brain as if this is the most important question of his life. “Yeah, I think I would."

Before you know it, you’re discussing your worm life with Johnny in full detail, with him explaining how he’d build a small house for you in his backyard.

Immediately bursts out laughing at the thought of you as a worm crawling around with a gun on the battlefield.

“As long as you don’t cheat on me with some other worm lad, I’d still love ya, bonnie.”

x kyle "gaz" garrick

He, like Simon, hits you with one of his side eyes.

He actually thinks about it for a hot minute, though, going through the pros and cons of this hypothetical situation.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He concludes, shrugging as his thoughts return to the mental list of the upsides and downsides of you turning into a worm.

“The biggest pro is that I can protect you easily. The biggest con is that you’re a worm.”

He gets so into this scenario, discussing the matter with you as if it’s forthcoming.

“What about you then? Would you love me if I was a worm?” He returns the question, his mind still wandering. Would you have shelter? How would he feed you? Would he accidentally stomp on you? “Yeah, I would. We can be worms together!” “Word.”

x john price

“Where do you come up with this stuff?”

He rubs his eyes almost urgently, a light groan coming from him as he breathes heavily. He’s trying to act all tough and unbothered, but in reality, he’s melting inside. He thinks your thought process and comfortability with him is adorable.

“I’d have to be extra careful with you, wouldn’t I?”

He runs the scenario in his head, playing it back and skipping forward like a movie. He’s very conflicted. It’s hard to love a worm, but it’s not just any worm - it is you!

“Sure.” He shrugs while his eyes lock in with yours. His face is to die for. He looks so done.

Realistically, he’d keep you in an aquarium full of dirt. It would be in his office so he can keep an eye on you to assure you aren’t doing something absurd, as worms do.

x alejandro vargas

Oh, he’s living for this.

You can’t help but snicker a little when he starts laughing at your question. He’s even smacking his thigh with his hand! It can’t be that funny… it’s a simple question!

He wipes his teary eyes when he can feel his hearty laughter calm down.

“Mi amor, you’re too funny. Yes, I would.”

He’d keep you in his pocket, regularly feeding and petting you. He’d also talk to you constantly, knowing you can’t do anything about it - the thought of it makes him giggle.

“You’re not planning on turning into one, right?”

x phillip graves

“...What?”

He’s so confused. Why are you asking him this?

He rolls his eyes at your expression. Your deviance drives him insane, but it also makes his heart flutter.

He tries avoiding the question, but you keep poking and prodding - it’s safe to say he’s not getting away without an answer.

“You’re driving me crazy, sweetie.” He sighs, shaking his head in exhaustion. You can see the corners of his lips curl up when you cackle at his response.

“It would be difficult, but I’d try. Only because it’s you.”

He would have a hard time originally, but he’d grow to love your worm self. It’s still you, after all.

x könig

“Hm… I suppose I would.”

His eyes narrow when he thinks of you as a worm. He’d fancy it if you don’t turn into a worm, but he’d still absolutely adore you.

“You really would?” “Yes. But wouldn’t that be kind of difficult?” His voice is as soft as ever, which tells you he’s genuine. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, and he doesn’t want to lie to you - which is ironic since he’d take the best care of you out of all these men!

He would always keep you on his shoulder and talk to you constantly. You would always be full and entertained, and he would be inclined to pet you regularly.

He would be afraid to hurt you on accident. He’s a big guy! So he would be cautious with you.

You would also be in his hands a lot! He would love holding you.

“But I’d prefer it if you stay like this, schatz.”

x horangi

His head snaps in your direction instantly. His eyebrows furrow unhesitatingly, but he’s soon giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Jagiya… you are crazy.”

He, like Kyle, starts thinking about this as if it’s inevitably cropping up.

“I would. Just don’t slither all over my face.” “I said worm, not a snake, Jin.”

He’d keep you on his helmet/his head most of the time. He would remember to feed you every time he eats, and like Simon, he would try to teach you self-defense. He’s already protective of you, but if you were a worm? He’d be your bodyguard.

“What do worms even eat?” “I don’t know. You’re gonna have to figure that out.” “Wait- don’t tell me you’re turning into one?”

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konigsblog · 4 months

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neighbour soap lives milfs, same with neighbour price... 😵‍💫

cw; reader described to have larger breasts and hips.

they're both your neighbour, with price on the right, and johnny perving on you at the left,. a good view for your bathroom, while price had a view of your bed.

price would watch and record as you hooked up with somebody, getting fucked and your tits groped all over. those pretty hips and thighs driving him utterly crazy and leaving him with a huge, stiff dick.

while johnny would watch you shower, your tits covered in bubbly, foamy soap. fingers stuffed inside yourself.

they both wanted to be the father to your next babies, to pump you full of potent cum, so you'd be swollen with their offspring.

they spend the night together, smoking cigarettes and cigars ‘til the room stunk of nicotine and thick, grey clouds. all while looking through the photos they'd took of you whilst showering and fingering yourself.

two pints of beers and a hard boner at the sight of your large, pretty tits and perfect hips.

but then came the competitiveness of who would be your next boyfriend, perhaps husband. maybe they'd both have you bent over, double penetrating your pretty, drooling cunt in price's house...

#orla speaks #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod soap #soap call of duty #captain price #captain john price #john price #price call of duty #price cod #mw2 price #john price mw2

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crystlizabeth · 5 months

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Fucking your ex-boyfriend’s dad because he cheated on you..

Filthy smut

˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

ex-Bfd!price was a little surprised to see you at his door in the middle of the night not to mention the mascara running down your pretty little face. There you sat on the couch your hand on your lap as you explained to him how his son had cheated on her.

ex-Bfd!price didn’t think twice when you asked him to fuck you.. having your body spread out on his bed as he kiss your body so gently trading every curve on you

“Yeah Angel, let me hear this pretty little sounds..” she praised his fingers sliding in and out of your wet fold his mouth working at your nipples the feeling of this beard causing you to shiver.

Kissing down your body his head slipped in between your thighs his large hands gripping the the fat of your thighs as he let his tongue work on your pussy. Your were so wet god, he could stay down there for days having you shaking and stammering his name. He wanted to make sure you never forgot his name. He continued To eat you out your arousal all over his face as you came to another orgasm your thighs smothering him.

“Good girl, you wanna come for me again.” He spoke coming up from in between your legs his face getting close to yours his beard having a slight glistening to it form yourself. You nodded feeling his hand ghost over your sensitive pussy price gave her a light slap to the cunt causing you to yelp.

“Common I wanna hear you Angel.” He said his lips kissing you softly before kissing down your neck setting himself between your legs.

“Mmm— please fuck me John.” You whined price grabbed your face harshly making you look as him.

“Say my name baby common..” he groaned his cock twitching by how his name rolled of her tongue. That filthy fucking tongue.

Slapping her face lightly he mocked your cries out for his cock to fill you up. You where falling apart under him your body shaking In pleasure “let me fuck you silly Angel say my name so you forget (exbf name)..” he cood his hand moving your hair out of your face.

So he did your legs over his shoulder as he bullied your cunt, you cried out his name with every thrust. Lifting himself up he keep your knees to your chest thrusting into you harshly by then you had started babbling he had fucked your silly. And amused smirk and price watched your tits bounce with every thrust.

“Atta girl, takin’ me so well huh.” Price praise coming down to kiss your forehead, his hand resting on the back of your head is pace never changing.

“Jo—John im-I’m gonna cum.” You cried out in a fit of moans.

His forehead touching yours “common Angel cum f’ me.” He groaned reaching his high.

“Please— please cum in me, I want you— to f’ me..” you babbled. You were so cock drunk but price wasn’t gonna give up the chance to fill your precious cunt up with his load.

Few more thrust and you both came together his thick load filling you up making you moan in the process you could feel him and hit thick seed fill you to the brim, he pulled out slowly watching his cum drip out of you.

“Yeah, oh fuck yeah Angel~” he cuckled watching at the white liquid spilled out of your puffy cunt.

“Take a picture John.” You whispered leaning up on your elbow, he leand over grabbing his phone snapping a picture only the bottom half of your face your tongue sticking out teasingly. Yeah he was gonna keep that.

He sent it to his son the text with the picture saying ‘cant wait to see you for dinner tomorrow. I know I just enjoyed my dessert!😁’

Throwing his phone to the side he continued with you he wasn’t done with you.

Not yet.

˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

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diejager · 1 year

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Nest

You whined, blunt nails digging into the thick, veiny hand that held your scruff. You struggled against him, trying to get out of his tight hold. He had you straddling him in the rec room, seated on the couch as he took over the complete space, his musk oozing off his skin in waves. He was scenting you, nosing your glands - red and swollen from all his kissing and his licking - with low growls. He nipped your neck when you skimmed too much, mouth leaving red and blue marks on your sweaty skin.

The intimiste act felt weird in such an open place, the public area of your shared room with the rest of the Task Force. You clawed at his hand and chest, pushing him when he wouldn’t - couldn’t - hear you, too lost in the haze of his pre-rut. It never bothered you how possessive and protective he got when his rut approached, his wolf baring his teeth and glaring at anyone who walked near you.

It was all fine until you heard steps, heavy and slow steps towards the small room you were currently being scented in. It stank of Price and your pheromones, a mix of arousal and possession. Whoever was making his way to the room knew the danger, anyone could smell Price from a mile away at this rate.

“John-,” you moaned into his furred ears, seeing them flatten against his head as he let out a growl, face still hidden between your shoulders.

His hair raised, shoulders stiff and eyes squinting, he felt another soldier’s presence. You peered from the bottom of your eyes, Price’s hand baring your throat to him with an iron grip. Ghost’s imposing figure stepped into the room, broad shoulders and darkness staring into your dilated eyes. Then he looked down your face to your Captain’s back covering your smaller body from Ghost’s gaze.

“Sorry,” you mouthed to your Lieutenant.

He nodded, backing away from the door. He closed the door, shutting other scents from mixing with yours. It pleased Price, from the vibrating rumble in his chest.

“Sweet bunny,” he cooed, lips kissing the corner of your lips to your cheeks, until he reached your floppy ears.

His teeth sunk into the cartilage, tongue lapping your ears and sucking it. You shuddered, crying out his name in a hiss, feeling him slobbering over your rabbit ears. The hand that held your hips moved to flip one of your ear over, showing the pink and flushed skin to his mouth.

“John!” you yipped, fingers holding onto his shoulders as he laved across your inner ear.

Your sudden burst of arousal made his growl, a pleased rumble as his tongue continued its work, grounding his bulge against the wet patch between your legs.

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 4 months

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Mistletoe mancandy series: Captain John Price

#price mw2 #captain price #captain john price #cod price #john price #captain price cod #captain my captain #captain johnathan price #mw2 price #price cod #price modern warfare #price mw3

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altbite · 1 year

Photo

MW2 + Reader as Images

Listen I was bored and made these masterpieces. I also know they can apply to multiple characters but enjoy it anyway

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eatmyassssssssz · 8 months

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who am i waking up next too?

warnings : alcohol mentions (you drunk the night before this is set) , you had had sex with price the night before this , n thats it !!

rundown : he helps sober you up after a night of boom boom ;)

rating : neutral

gender of reader : none described, no masc or fem nicknames

tags / mentions : @lillianastuff @lucyisdoingfine @mactavishwritings @madamemelancholysstuff @mysticalgalaxysalad @mionacaped @maxsii @cathnoneofyourbusiness @crimsonbubble @bowieisbored @blingblong55 @yippeerrrs @applbottmjeens @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @wandasbitch22 @warzxx @wretched-horn-monger

white.

white ceilings.

a...a pattern?

swirly.

hundreds of them, it looks like.

your vision was a little untrustworthy, but you could make out a little swirly pattern on a white ceiling.

the only problem was. your ceiling was light gray. with no pattern.

"shit." you grumble out loud. your head hurt, your back hurt, your stomach as well. "fucks sake.." you whisper.

theres moving around next to you, incoherent grumbles. you didnt really want to look over, see whatever lowlife you fucked without a condom for £5 and now have to go say to a clinic. but. you have to.

you move your body to the side, you had to physically move to see the man beside you, your peripheral was shitty, all blury.

"oh my lord...i done it...i finally fucked a half decent guy. fuck yea." you say to yourself, your eyes looking over to sleeping man who was laying on your right side.

he was a muscular man, with a bit of a beer gut, your perfect type...

he had neatly groomed facial hair, side burns, muttons on his cheeks, his hair was neatly trimmed at the back, a little more unkempt on the top.

his eyes were closed, his eyelashes fluttering as your gaze lingers. "m..'m not a museum artifact...no need to stare, aint gonna disappear.." he grumbles, his morning voice pulled on the words that left his mouth, gruff.

"sorry." you reply, voice soft. "s fine, hon.." he says, moving around, rubbing his eyes, waking himself up.

"mm- you okay?" he speaks up, sitting up, his duvet covers sliding down from his hips to his mid thighs when he rearranges his body.

"thats why my back hurts.." you whisper to yourself, he snorts, overhearing your mumble. "sorry-"

"theres a lot of apologising happening and ive only been awake 3 minutes. you all okay, hon?" he asks as he puts on a pair of grey boxer shorts.

"mm..im perfectly fine...my back just hurts, n my visions a little fucky wucky. but- but other than that, m okay."

he ruffles your hair. "'m sorry, hon. want a glass of water? you did drink a lot." you nod in response. "im..im really sorry, whats your name?"

"im john, sweet'eart."

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