MASTERLIST!
occasionally subtle
Stranger Things
noise dept.

tannertan36
Cosimo Galluzzi
styofa doing anything
Misplaced Lens Cap
d e v o n

JBB: An Artblog!
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Monterey Bay Aquarium
dirt enthusiast
todays bird
trying on a metaphor

Kaledo Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

No title available
will byers stan first human second

JVL
seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Lithuania
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seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
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@stupiddumbbunnies
MASTERLIST!
its christmas eve and look whos on tumblr
all of us
hellooo guys… i’m back for now!! anyways i hate christmas, but maybeee some john price christmas smut for you.. 💛💛
┊ NSFW warning ┊ F!Reader ┊Blurb┊
John Price LOVES to ruin your makeup.
At first, you thought you were imagining things and that it was just a coincidence.
But it had become too much of a pattern for it to be only coincidence.
tag list!
hello guys if you'd like to be tagged in future posts, please either like or reblog this post, so i can add you to the list!
MASTERLIST!
Oneshots:
Kissing, I hope they caught us - (roomate!simon x fem!reader)
Bad case of baby fever - (john price x fem!reader)
Bad case of baby fever - (only smut version)
Car Crash - (john price x fem!reader, angst)
Headcanons:
John Price domestic dominace headcanons.
Series:
⋆˚꩜。 index :
╰┈➤ 01, 02, 03, 04 - (brat taming reader, mostly smut, but will be adding fluff soon.)
Tag list!! [just made, trying to update daily.]
a/n: heya guys!! it’s 2am right now and i’m incredibly drained from making this because of all the stupid html. so if this looks freaky just shoot me a message or comment. i’ll get to fixin it when i have time!! so enjoy!!
John Price, Simon Riley.
word count: 1.7k CW: degradation, dumbification, rough sex, overstimulation, punishments, power exchange, brat taming, forced submission, psychological domination, throat-fucking, overstimulation, and rough anal/vaginal penetration. Heavy themes of ownership, humiliation, and body betrayal.
previous!
Not even a week had passed since your last punishment, but that familiar burning urge to be bratty was already creeping back in. Honestly, you had every reason to feel that way. From the moment you opened your eyes, the day seemed determined to test you. You woke up irritated, restless, and uncomfortably aware of your clothes clinging to your skin in all the wrong ways. Every little thing seemed to hurt, bumping into corners, stubbing your toe, even the smallest touch felt irritating. People around you weren’t helping either; it felt like everyone was deliberately pushing your buttons, piling on frustration after frustration. Nothing was going right, and the universe seemed to be conspiring against you. With all of that stacked up, of course you’d slip into that bratty mood again, but it wasn’t just a whim, it felt inevitable.
By the time evening rolled around, the pent-up energy had nowhere to go, so you turned it toward them—Price and Ghost. Small defiance, testing boundaries, letting your tone drip with sarcasm when they gave orders. You knew better, they had already corrected you once this week, but the words kept slipping out anyway. A sharp glance from Price made your pulse spike, but you didn’t back down, biting your lip to keep from smiling when Ghost sighed in exasperation. The thrill of pushing just a little too far was addictive, especially when you could see their patience wearing thin, their gazes darkening with something dangerous. Deep down, you wanted them to snap, wanted them to put you in your place again, because nothing else would work to soothe the relentless itch under your skin.
Price was the first to move. No warning, no final growl, just sudden, rough hands wrapping around your wrists, pinning them behind your back as he dragged you against him. "You think this is cute?" he murmured, voice low and rough against your ear. Ghost circled like a predator, boots heavy on the floor as he took his time unbuckling his belt, the leather sliding free slow enough to make your breath hitch. You squirmed, but Price’s grip was iron strong, his chuckle sending heat pooling low in your stomach. "Already forgot your lesson, brat?" Ghost mused, tapping the belt against his palm. The sound alone made your thighs press together instinctively, fear and anticipation twisting together.
You bucked hard against Price’s hold, twisting to kick at Ghost with a frustrated snarl. Your heel connected with his thigh, barely a sting, but enough to make his eyes flash dangerously. "Oh, she wants to play rough," Ghost murmured, and before you could react, he yanked you forward by the collar of your shirt, the fabric biting into your throat. Price’s hand tangled in your hair, forcing your head back as Ghost leaned down, his breath hot against your cheek. "You hit, you get hit back," he warned, voice dropping to something dark and promising. "That’s the rule."
Price tugged harder, arching your body against him until you could feel the firm ridge of his cock pressing through his pants. "Listen to him," Price growled, nipping your earlobe just hard enough to make you whimper. "We can just remind you how fucking stupid you’ll sound when you can’t even remember your own name." The threat coiled low in your belly, arousal and shame tangling together as Ghost dragged the belt across your lips, leather and salt and the faintest hint of gunpowder. "Open," he ordered, and you hesitated, but before you could even open, he pinched your nose shut until instinct forced your mouth open with a gasp.
Ghost slid the belt between your teeth, pressing down on your tongue with cruelty. "There," he murmured, watching as drool gathers at the corner of your mouth. "Perfect little dumb thing." Price’s grip shifted, one hand slipping under your shirt to palm your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple until you moaned around the leather. "Bet you can’t even count to three right now," he taunted, kneading harder when you tried to jerk away. Ghost chuckled, running his fingers through the mess on your chin. "Let’s see how far she gets before she forgets how words work."
The belt pulled free with a wet pop, replaced instantly by Ghost’s fingers hooking into your mouth, stretching it wide. "Say 'thank you'," he demanded, but your brain stuttered, too overwhelmed to form syllables. Price’s laugh was smug against your neck. "Told you." His other hand slid down, sliding under your waistband and finding you drenched. "Already ruined," he muttered, circling your clit with deliberate slowness. "Pathetic. Didn't even take long." Ghost tugged your head back further by your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Watch my fingers," he ordered, thrusting them deeper until you gagged. "That’s all you’re good for."
Price bit down on your shoulder hard enough to bruise as his fingers sped up, dragging choked whimpers from your throat. "You wanted this," he reminded you, voice dripping with condescension. "Acting up just to get our attention." Ghost curled his fingers, pressing against the roof of your mouth until your eyes watered. "Look at her," he scoffed, watching your hips jerk helplessly against Price’s hand. "Can't even remember why she was being a brat."
Price slowed his touch just enough to make you whine. "Use your words, pet," he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "Tell us what crawled under your skin today." You gasped as Ghost pulled his fingers free, saliva stringing from your lips. "I—" you started, and they knew you were gonna give some one worded bullshit excuse, so Price pinched your clit sharply. "Full sentences," he ordered.
Your thighs trembled as Price dragged a single finger through your slickness. "Everything—fuck... everything was wrong," you choked out, hips jerking into his touch. Ghost chuckled, "Poor thing," he mocked, pushing your knees apart with his boot. "Had a bad day, so you thought you'd take it out on us?" Price’s fingers plunged inside you without warning, curling just right. "Selfish," he tsked.
"On your knees," Ghost ordered, palming himself through his boxers. You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "No." The word came out breathless but defiant. Price stilled, fingers buried deep—then twisted them cruelly. "Say that again," he dared. Ghost gripped your jaw, tilting your face up. "Bet you can't." You gasped as Price added a third finger, stretching you obscenely. "N-no," you repeated, voice breaking when Ghost slapped your cheek lightly. "Wrong answer."
Price withdrew his fingers abruptly, slick glistening in the dim light. "Down," he growled, shoving your shoulders hard, you hit the floor with a jolt, knees stinging. Ghost hauled you forward by the hair, pressing your cheek against his straining bulge. "Beg for it," he murmured, taking himself out and tracing your lips with his cockhead. Price knelt behind you, spreading your ass with rough hands. "Or I'll fuck this tight little hole dry." The threat sent a shudder through you, thighs quivering as Ghost rubbed his length over your spit-slick mouth. "C'mon, brat. Ask nicely, and maybe ill go easy on you."
The taunt made your throat tighten, pride warring with desperation. Ghost pressed in just an inch, enough to make you choke slightly, then pulled back with a smirk. "Pathetic," Price muttered, spreading your cheeks wider, his thumb circling your rim. "Can't even do this right." You whimpered at his words, hips jerking when his nail dug into sensitive flesh. "Please," you gasped, the word mangled against Ghost's cock. "Louder," Ghost demanded, slapping his cock against your tongue. "Let's hear how much you fucking need it."
Price's spit landed hot between your cheeks before he pressed in with one thick finger, stretching you out. Your cry was muffled by Ghost thrusting deeper, hitting the back of your throat. Tears blurred your vision as they worked you in tandem. Price's fingers fucking into your ass while Ghost used your mouth like a fleshlight, grip tight in your hair. "That's it," Ghost groaned, hips snapping forward. "Take it like the dumb slut you are." Price crooked his fingers, brushing that spot inside you that made your legs shake. "Gonna ruin you," he promised darkly.
You gagged around Ghost's cock when he shoved all the way in, nose pressed to his pelvis. Price added another finger, scissoring you open with a wet sound. "Look at her," Ghost panted, pulling out just to smear precum over your swollen lips, then immediately pressing back in. "Can't even remember her own name now." Price chuckled, twisting his wrist until you sobbed. "Bet she doesn't even know what day it is." It's true, your thoughts dissolved into static, thighs slick with your own arousal as they reduced you to a trembling, drooling mess between them.
Ghost suddenly yanked you off him by the hair, your mouth falling open with a wet gasp. "Last chance," he growled, tapping his cock against your cheek. "Say thank you." Price's fingers stilled inside you, waiting. Your voice came out wrecked "Th-thank you, sir." The grin ghost gave was feral. "Good girl." He shoved back in, fucking your throat while Price finally, finally replaced his fingers with the thick head of his cock. The stretch burned. You screamed around Ghost's length as Price bottomed out with a groan. "Fuck," he hissed, hands bruising your hips. "Now you'll remember your place."
The slap of skin, the choked sounds punched from your lungs, the scent of sweat and sex, it overwhelmed your senses until all you could do was take it. Ghost pulled out just to come across your face, hot stripes painting your cheeks and forehead. Price followed moments later, his release flooding your ass as he grunted deeply. You slumped forward, trembling, spit and come dripping onto the floor. Ghost wiped his thumb through the mess on your chin, shoving it into your mouth. "Clean up," he ordered. Price patted your ass, sticky with sweat. "Bet she can't even remember why she was mad."
The room spun when they hauled you up, your body limp between them. They dragged you to the mirror, forcing you to look at the wreck they’d made of you, glazed eyes, swollen lips, smeared makeup. "This what you wanted?" Price murmured, biting your shoulder. Your reflection nodded weakly. Ghost snorted. "Knew it." He pressed a kiss to your temple, mocking. "Dumb little thing." Price guided your fingers between your legs. "Touch yourself," he commanded. "Show us how much you liked it." You whimpered but obeyed, hips jerking pathetically…
MASTERLIST!
a/n: hellooo so i want to continue this and make it into a series, so if youd like that heres the link to vote!! (im creating a masterlist today so be ready everyone) i have so much planned and im so excited for you guys to see more! have a great rest of your week!!
do you guys want want a series of this fic?
yes
no
link here!!
i just read a good ass fic on the way home, it ended on a cliffhanger & hasn’t been updated since 2023. i’m so angry bro 😭
I love your writing! can you pls make some price headcanons?🥹🥹🥹
ahh I'm so glad you asked for this! & thank you!!🥹 I had some sitting in the draftss!! inspired by this post!
John Price domestic dominance headcanons. ⋆˚࿔
• He doesn’t always need words. A raised brow, a tilt of his head, or the way he taps two fingers against his thigh is enough to make you move, sit, or hush without him saying a thing.
• Price always claims the head of the table, the corner of the couch, or the driver’s seat. If you wander into his spot, he’ll simply stand over you until you shift, muttering “You know better.”
• Crossing a busy street or walking through a crowd, he’ll lace his fingers through yours and keep you tucked close to his side, steering you without breaking his stride.
• He has a way of lowering his tone when he wants obedience. Sharp enough to cut through any distraction. “Focus.” “Stay.” “With me.”
• He notices the smallest things, a light left on, shoes not put away, your posture slouched. He’ll correct it with a clipped order, but always with that underlying care.
• He’ll casually rest a hand on your knee during dinner, or on the small of your back while talking to someone else, reminding you (and everyone around) that you’re his priority.
• If you’re dragging your feet in the morning, he’ll tug the blanket off, toss your clothes onto the bed, and say “Up. Now.” & He won't take no excuses.
• He’ll pull you into his lap while reading or cleaning his rifle, one arm wrapped around you like you belong there.
• If you get bratty or catch an attitude with him, he doesn’t argue. He leans in, voice low: “Try again.” & The weight of his stare & tone does the rest.
• He checks locks, windows, and alarms every night. If you try to do it yourself, he’ll stop you: “That’s my job.”
• Even when he’s not speaking, the way he stands, arms crossed, gaze steady. Makes you straighten up and obey without thinking.
Masterlist
a/n: happy holidays everyone & i hope everyone is having a great time! & if you’re not, i hope this cheers ya up!! 💛
mentally taking a drag of my mental cigarette because I don’t smoke but life has been very smokable lately
Eyes Down, Knees Bent.
John Price, Simon Riley. continuation of this fic!
CW: power exchange, brat taming, degradation, dumbification, forced submission, psychological domination, impact play (belts, spanking), breath restriction, throat-fucking, overstimulation, and rough anal/vaginal penetration. Heavy themes of ownership, humiliation, and body betrayal, alsoo a hint of breeding.
next part!
"That's the fifth fucking time you've rolled your eyes at me today." Price's voice was low, the kind of calm that meant trouble. He didn't raise it—didn't need to. The weight of it filled the room like smoke.
You shifted your weight, arms crossed, chin tilted up just enough to be defiant without outright challenging him. "Maybe if your orders weren't so stupid, I wouldn't have to." The words tasted sharp on your tongue, reckless. You knew better. That was the point.
Ghost's gloved fingers tapped once against the stock of his rifle, a slow, deliberate rhythm. He didn't speak. Didn't have to. The way his head tilted slightly, mask shifting as he studied you, was worse than any reprimand. Price exhaled through his nose, the sound thick with patience wearing thin.
Price moved first, his boots scuffing the concrete as he closed the distance between you in three measured strides. The smell of gun oil and worn leather clung to him, thick enough to make your pulse stutter when his calloused hand wrapped around the back of your neck. Not rough—not yet—but firm enough to tilt your head back until you were staring up at the overhead lights, the glare forcing you to blink. "Let's try that again, pet," he murmured, thumb pressing just under your jaw. "Properly."
Your breath hitched when Ghost's shadow fell over you, his broad frame blocking the light as he stepped in close behind. The heat of him pressed against your back, his rifle now slung across his chest as his hands settled on your hips—not guiding, just there, a silent reminder of how easily they could crush you between them. "Think we’ve been too lenient," Ghost rumbled, the vibration of his voice skimming down your spine. "Mouthy little thing like you needs reminders."
Price's grip tightened fractionally, his thumb dragging up to press against the hinge of your jaw, forcing your lips apart. "Open," he ordered, and when you hesitated, Ghost's fingers dug in hard enough to make you gasp—just what Price wanted. The first spit landed warm on your tongue before you could protest, bitter and thick. "Swallow," Price murmured, watching your throat work with dark approval. "Good girl. Now, let's hear that apology."
The apology caught in your throat—not from refusal, but from the sudden press of Ghost’s knee between yours, forcing your legs apart as his hand slid up to fist in your hair. "None of that hesitation shit," he growled, yanking your head back until your spine arched. Price’s spit was still slick on your tongue, and the humiliation burned hotter when Ghost leaned down, his masked mouth brushing your ear. "Or d’you need us to fuck it into you?"
Price chuckled, the sound dark as his free hand unclipped his belt with a sharp snick. The leather slid free with a whisper, and your stomach dropped when he folded it lengthwise, the buckle dangling like a promise. "Seems our little brat forgot her place," he mused, testing the weight against his palm. "Gonna need more than words to jog her memory."
The first sting came without warning—a swift, biting snap across your thighs that left a searing line of fire in its wake. You jerked against Ghost’s hold, but his grip was iron, his breath hot through the mask as he pinned you in place. "Count," he ordered, voice rough. Price didn’t wait for compliance; the belt came down again, higher this time, and the whimper that escaped you was swallowed by Ghost’s hand clamping over your mouth.
The sound that tore from you was muffled against Ghost's palm, the leather of his glove pressing hard enough to taste the grit of cordite and sweat. You tried to count—two—but it came out garbled, drowned under the suffocating weight of his hand. Ghost tsked, the vibration of it humming against your back as Price's belt bit again, higher now, the buckle grazing the tender skin just below your ass. "Counting's not optional," Ghost murmured, easing his grip just enough to let you gasp before clamping down again, your next attempt at three dissolving into a wet, choked noise.
Price’s belt landed again—four—this time with the buckle twisted just right to leave a welt rising under the fabric of your pants. Your hips jerked forward instinctively, only to grind against Ghost’s thigh still wedged between your legs. The friction sent a jolt through you, sharp and unwelcome, as Ghost’s fingers tightened in your hair. "Tryin’ to cheat?" he rumbled, his free hand sliding down to pinch the inside of your thigh hard enough to bruise. "Count proper, or we start over."
You shuddered, swallowing the taste of panic thick on your tongue, but when Price lifted the belt again, your throat locked around the number. Silence stretched, broken only by the creak of leather in his fist. Ghost exhaled—slow, disappointed—before his grip shifted, yanking you upright with a brutal tug. "Pants. Off," he ordered, voice flat. "Now." Your fingers fumbled at the button, hands shaking too badly to manage until Price caught your wrist, his thumb pressing into the pulse point as he popped it open himself. "Should’ve listened," he murmured, dragging the zipper down with a metallic rasp.
The cold air hit your exposed skin before the belt did—five—this time landing bare, the crack echoing off the walls as your knees buckled. Ghost held you up effortlessly, his arm banded around your waist while Price circled, the belt dragging teasingly over your hip. "D'ya still think my orders are stupid?" he asked, tapping the leather against the welt rising on your thigh. You shook your head violently, but Ghost’s hand clamped over your mouth again before you could speak.
Price’s chuckle was low, approving, as he unhooked his knife from his belt—not to cut, just to tease, the flat of the blade trailing icy down your spine. "Gonna need more than nods, love," he murmured, twisting the knife to catch the light. Ghost’s grip on your waist tightened, his teeth grazing your shoulder through the fabric of your shirt. "Words," he growled.
The belt came down again—six—this time diagonally across the backs of your thighs, the buckle leaving a branding sting. You gasped into Ghost’s palm, the taste of leather and his sweat thick on your tongue as Price leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Try 'sorry, sir,'" he suggested, voice dripping with mock patience. Ghost’s fingers flexed against your ribs, counting your rapid breaths. "Or we can start again from one."
Price didn’t wait for hesitation. His thumb hooked into the corner of your mouth, pressing down until your jaw ached, forcing it wider. "Eyes up," he ordered, and when you obeyed, he slid two fingers past your lips, the calloused pads rough against your tongue. The salt of his skin mixed with the lingering bitterness of spit, your gag reflex twitching as he pushed deeper. Ghost’s grip on your hair kept you from pulling away, his growl vibrating through your skull. "Suck."
The drool spilled over your chin before you could stop it, thick and shameful, dripping onto Price’s wrist as he worked his fingers deeper, the scrape of his wedding ring against your teeth sending a shudder through you. Ghost’s grip tightened in your hair, his other hand sliding down to palm the front of your half on underwear—not to soothe, but to press the heel of his hand hard against the throbbing ache between your legs. "Bet you’re fucking soaked," he muttered, the disgust in his voice making your stomach clench. "Pathetic."
Price withdrew his fingers with a wet pop, your lips clinging uselessly as he wiped them on your cheek, smearing spit down to your jaw. "On your knees," he ordered, nudging your shoulder with the toe of his boot until you sank down, the wood biting into your bare skin. Ghost’s shadow loomed over you, his belt already undone, the thick outline of his cock straining against his jeans. "Open wide, brat," he rasped, thumbing the mask up just enough to reveal the cruel twist of his mouth. "Gonna fuck that attitude right out your throat."
The first thrust punched the air from your lungs, his grip on your hair forcing your nose into the coarse fabric of his tactical vest as he bottomed out. You gagged, tears springing hot at the corners of your eyes, but Ghost didn’t slow—just rocked deeper, the wet sounds of your struggle filling the room. Price crouched beside you, the cold steel of his knife tracing idle circles on your inner thigh. "Breathe through it," he instructed, voice calm as if discussing the weather, not your wrecked whimpers around Ghost’s cock.
The knife's edge bit lightly—just enough to make you freeze—as Price dragged it higher, the metal catching on the damp fabric of your panties before slicing through with a soft tear. Cold air hit your exposed cunt, but the humiliation burned hotter when Ghost shoved deeper, his groan rough above you as your throat convulsed around him. Price’s fingers replaced the blade, spreading you open with two calloused digits, his laugh dark when you flinched. "See how she’s dripping?" he mused, rubbing his thumb through your slick with deliberate, smearing circles. "Like a fucking whore."
Ghost’s thrusts turned punishing, his grip on your hair yanking your head back to force eye contact as he fucked into your mouth with sharp, shallow jerks. Spit and tears streaked your face, the salt sharp on your tongue when Price suddenly shoved two fingers inside you, curling them just enough to make your hips jerk. "Quit squirming," Ghost snarled, using your hair like a leash to drag you forward onto his cock again, the head bumping your gag reflex. "Take it."
The stretch of Price’s fingers inside you sent a dizzying mix of pain and pleasure arcing up your spine, your muffled whines lost in the wet choke of Ghost’s thrusts. Price twisted his wrist, knuckles pressing deliberately against that tender spot until your thighs trembled, his other hand pinching your clit just shy of cruelty. “Look at her,” he muttered, dragging his thumb through your slick and holding it up to the light, the shine of it damning. “Fucking herself on my fingers while she gags on his cock.”
Ghost’s rhythm stuttered when Price crooked his fingers harder, your cunt clenching around them as a broken, wet sound vibrated against Ghost’s cock. He pulled out just enough to let you gasp, strands of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his tip before he shoved back in, his groan rough. “Fuck—greedy little slut,” he managed, hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt as Price’s thumb circled your clit faster, the pressure bordering on unbearable.
Your vision blurred at the edges, tears spilling freely now as Price’s fingers worked you ruthlessly, the squelch of your own slick loud in your ears. Ghost’s thrusts grew erratic, his grip on your hair tightening like a vice as he muttered a curse, his cock twitching deep in your throat. Price chuckled, low and knowing, his breath hot against your ear. “Gonna come with his dick down your throat and my fingers in your cunt?” he taunted, twisting them sharply. “Do it. Let us see.”
The orgasm hit like a gut punch—violent and involuntary—your body arching against Ghost’s hold as Price’s fingers milked every last spasm from you. Ghost snarled something filthy as your throat clamped around him, his hips jerking forward one final time before he came with a groan, the hot spill of it flooding your mouth as you choked. Price didn’t let up, his fingers still moving inside you through the aftershocks, turning oversensitive pleasure into a trembling, whimpering mess.
Ghost pulled out with a wet pop, his cock glistening with spit as he thumbed your swollen lower lip, smearing it further. “Swallowed every drop,” he observed, voice rough with satisfaction. Price finally withdrew his fingers, holding them up to your face so you could see the sheen of your own arousal before wiping them across your parted lips. “Taste that?” he murmured, watching your tongue dart out reflexively. “Proof of what you are.”
Ghost’s gloved hand tangled in your hair again, hauling you upright until your wobbly knees threatened to give out. Price’s belt slithered around your waist like a serpent, the leather still warm from his grip as he looped it tight, the buckle digging into your lower back. “Think she’s learned her lesson yet?” Ghost mused, his thumb swiping through the mess on your chin before shoving two fingers back into your mouth, the taste of his come bitter on your tongue. You shuddered, but the whimper died when Price’s hand clamped over your throat, not squeezing—just there, a silent threat.
“Not nearly,” Price growled, his free hand working his belt loose with a sharp snick. The metal teeth scraped your hip. Ghost’s chuckle was dark, his fingers twisting deep in your hair as he bent you forward over the edge of the cofffe table, the wood biting into your flushed skin. “Gonna fuck that bratty streak right out of you,” Price promised, his palm coming down sharp against your ass—once, twice—the sting blooming bright before his thumb pressed cruel against your slick entrance. “And you’re gonna thank us for it.”
Your throat burned raw, words scraping out between hitched breaths— “Please—” barely audible before Ghost’s hand smothered it, his fingers digging into your cheeks hard enough to make your jaw ache. “Begging now?” he mocked, the fabric of his mask brushing your ear as he leaned down. “Should’ve thought of that before you rolled your eyes at us, little brat.” Price’s grip on your hips tightened, his chuckle a dark rumble against your back as he lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance. “Too late for easy,” he murmured, the words dripping with false sympathy. “But we’ll make sure you remember exactly why you shouldn’t have mouthed off.”
The stretch was brutal—no prep, no mercy—just the slow, inexorable burn of him splitting you open, your choked sob muffled into the table. Ghost’s hand shifted from your mouth to the back of your neck, pinning you down as Price bottomed out with a groan, his hips flush against your ass. “Fuck,” he gritted out, rolling his pelvis just to hear you whimper. “Tighter than I thought.” His fingers tangled in the belt looped around your waist, using it like a leash to yank you back onto him, the sudden drag pulling a ragged cry from your throat. “Count,” he ordered, pulling out just as slowly before slamming back in, the impact rattling your teeth.
Ghost’s free hand found your clit, his touch relentless—not to coax, but to overwhelm, his calloused fingers circling just shy of pain as Price set a punishing pace. “One,” you gasped, the number fracturing into a moan as he angled deeper, hitting a spot that sent white-hot sparks behind your eyelids. Ghost’s laugh was low, approving, as he leaned over your shoulder, his breath hot through the mask. “Louder,” he demanded, pinching your clit hard between his fingers. “Want the whole safehouse to hear how well you take it.”
Price’s thrusts turned jagged, his control fraying as your body clamped around him, the wet slap of skin echoing off the walls. His fingers dug into the belt cinched around your waist, using it to haul you back onto his cock with every snap of his hips. “Gonna come inside this bratty cunt,” he growled, the words rough with exertion. Ghost’s fingers dipped lower, pressing against your asshole just to feel you clench around them, his chuckle dark. “Bet she’d take both,” he mused, the tip of his finger breaching just enough to make you jerk. “Wouldn’t you, pet?”
Price’s hand slid up your spine to fist in your hair, wrenching your head back until you could feel his breath on your ear—hot, uneven. “Be a good girl, yeah?” he murmured, voice thick with something dangerously close to praise. “Take my come like you’re fucking made for it.” The implication sent a jolt through you, your traitorous body pulsing around him as Ghost’s other hand squeezed your throat, not cutting off air—just reminding you who owned it.
Ghost’s chuckle was a dark rumble against your shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin there through the fabric of his mask. “Bet she’d look pretty swollen with you in her,” he mused, fingers still working your asshole in cruel little circles. “All fucked out and still dripping.” Price groaned, hips stuttering as he drove deeper, his grip on the belt tightening like a rein. “Think she’d whine if we kept her full?” he gritted out, the snap of his hips turning erratic. “Make her walk around with it leaking out—”
The words punched through you just as Price’s thrusts grew uneven, his cock pulsing deep inside as he spilled with a groan that vibrated against your spine. His grip on your waist kept you impaled, his hips grinding slow circles to milk every last drop into your clenching cunt. Ghost’s fingers never stopped moving, stretching your asshole just enough to make your breath hitch—not enough to breach, just enough to tease. “Could breed her proper,” Ghost mused, his free hand sliding down your stomach to press against the slight swell where Price’s cock pooled inside you.
Price pulled out, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as his fingers tightened in your hair. “Been too lenient,” he muttered, the words thick with satisfaction as he gave pinched you, just to feel you whimper. Ghost’s laugh was dark, his mask brushing your shoulder as he leaned in. “My turn,” he growled, finally withdrawing his fingers from your ass only to smear your slick across Price’s softening cock. “Gonna fuck her full of you,” he warned, the head of his own cock pressing against your abused entrance.
The stretch burnt worse this time—raw and overworked—as Ghost forced himself inside as Price pulls out. It hurt so bad, but you couldn’t scream; Ghost’s hand clamped back over your mouth, his fingers tasting of gunmetal and your own slick as he bottomed out with a groan that shook his chest. Ghost started a brutal rhythm, each thrust driving you harder onto the table until you felt stuffed to the brim.
Ghost’s teeth found your shoulder through the mask, biting down just as he angled his hips to hit that spot that made your thighs tremble. “Feel that?” he rasped, the vibration of his voice skimming down your spine. “Both of us in this greedy little cunt.” Price chuckled against your ear, his fingers trailing down to circle your clit again, the callouses dragging just shy of pain. “Think she’ll come again?” he mused, pressing down hard enough to make you jerk him both. “Like a fucking doll—just wind her up and watch her fall apart.”
The orgasm ripped through you like a live wire, your body clamping around him in helpless pulses as Ghost cursed, his thrusts turning erratic. Price held you still with an arm like iron across your waist, forcing you to take every inch as Ghost came with a groan, his cock pulsing hard inside of you. The heat of it spilled over, trickling down your thighs as Ghost finally pulled out, leaving you gaping and oversensitive.
Price’s hand slid up to grip your chin, tilting your face back to meet his gaze—dark, satisfied. “Next time you roll those pretty eyes at me,” he murmured, thumb swiping through the sweat on your lip, “remember how we corrected that attitude.” Ghost’s glove came down hard on your ass in a stinging slap, the sound sharp in the quiet. “And there will be a next time,” he promised, the mask doing nothing to hide the grin in his voice. “Brat like you’s made for it.”
next part! , Masterlist
a/n: should i do more of this trio? i think i really like it, its also a little continuation of couch!! anywho i hope you guys enjoyed these two!! here’s a link if you want this to be a series!!
Couch
John Price, Simon Riley,
.. part 2 here!!
a/n: a short one today guys!!
CW: smut no plot, sharing, unprotected sex, daddy kink (icky, dad, pa), meanie!price. meanie!simon I probably missed some things...!
Today was a lazy day for you and john, he didn't have work and you weren't busy spending all of his money, here you two lay on the couch his fingers deep in your needy cunt, camera set up for him to send to his friends later.
"Mmhm this stupid needy cunt missed me huh? too bad daddy has been gone working for you. Have you been good for dad? You aint been playing with my cunt huh?" he says, slapping your cunt twice drawing a sharp wince from you, "Ow pa that really hurt!!"
"Shut up, I don't care what hurts. You know to just take it without a sound." He mutters. Pulling his fingers out of you as he unbuckles his belt, "Need to feel this warm cunt wrapped around me, need it real bad pup" He growls as he sinks into you with one rough, sharp thrust, bottoming out immediately, you scratch at his back in pain "ow pa!!! the prep pa!" you moan out, enjoying the pain despite your protests. "Oh please, you're a greedy whore, you know you wanted it like this. Stop asking for things you don't deserve." he says as he pulls out and flips you over. shoving you into the couch pillows as he fucks the shit out of you.
"I'm here!!" comes a loud voice from the front door, as you're currently getting all pretty for Simon, your other favorite man of course. "The pup is coming soon Riley." John says as he comes down the stairs to greet his friend, Simon letting himself into the kitchen to make a glass of whiskey as you come down, in their favorite lingerie, their gazes roaming all over your body, their pants tightening as simon stalks over to you. "Hey lovie... missed me?" he growls grabbing your hip and kissing you before you could even get another word out...
part two!! , masterlist
a/n. i needed to post some smut to cover up my angst i posted but i still have writers block so ew.. anywho let me know if i should continue this because why do i lowkey like it...?
(pov: y’all’s face when i post non detailed shit…)
Car Crash.
John Price,
CW: abortion, death, angst, abortion guilt, and more that i don't know.
It was always you and John, and that’s how you both wanted to keep it forever. That was until you got pregnant. You had always said no to kids, but never did anything to prevent it. Hell, you thought you were infertile.
“John… baby, I have something to tell you,” you whispered as you sat him down on the couch. His eyes went cold for a second before returning to his normal expression. “I took the test just now and I’m pr—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as tears began to fall from your eyes.
You didn’t want this. This was not the life you could ever see yourself in. He held you all night while you cried, waiting until you were ready to talk about it. It wasn’t until about a week later that you finally decided you needed to have the conversation.
He already knew what your answer would be. It was his answer too, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. You both talked about the life you could have if you decided to keep the baby, but ultimately agreed it was for the best not to. Neither of you felt mentally equipped to raise a child.
The following day, you told your friend. You weren’t close with your parents, so there was no need to tell them anything about this part of your life. They never liked Price anyway — they always said he was a waste of space.
But as Price always did, he took care of you. He held you as you explained how hard this would be. He booked the appointment, drove you there while holding your hand the whole time. He was the most supportive boyfriend you could ever have. He would’ve been a great dad. It’s too bad everyone he loves dies.
Days passed after your appointment, and you started to feel like you had made a mistake. You went on about it for days, telling John that maybe you should have kept the baby, that you could still feel it moving inside you, that you were having dreams of a happy family. John tried to console you, saying, “luv, I promise you it’s okay. You’re just feeling the aftermath and the guilt of it all. With time and healing, you’ll feel better soon, lovie. You have to let yourself heal.” But of course, you couldn’t hear that. You were hurting too much.
Eventually, John grew tired of it all. It was awful to admit, but he was drained by the constant worries, the guilt you carried everywhere, the endless venting. Exhausted, he packed his things and left — the house, the baby, everything. He was a tired man.
You couldn’t take it. You cried for weeks, day and night. He was the first man to treat you right, and he left during the hardest time for both of you. How could he leave when things got hard? Why would he abandon you when you needed him most? Those thoughts consumed you daily.
Months later, you moved on — not entirely. You could never fully move on from John, and he couldn’t move on from you. He had a new girl, and you had a new man.
Of course, your boyfriend didn’t know about the baby or about Price. He could never know. Still, you wished he was John. It was sick to admit, but you love who you fucking love, and nobody could stop that. Eventually, you got married, and so did Price. But Price wished day and night that his wife was you. He needed her to be you. There was nobody in the world he could love more than he loved you — and that baby.
Why couldn’t you two have been together, raising that little family? Why didn’t you want kids when everyone else did? Why couldn’t that have been your dream too? Maybe if it had been, you would still be together instead of wishing your partners were each other. The pain was unbearable.
Eventually, you became pregnant by your husband. You seemed happy, but you weren’t. All you could think about was the baby that was supposed to be Price’s. This should have been you and him. You posted about it on social media, everyone gushing over your newfound happiness. And of course, Price saw the post. He saw every post you ever made. He was fuming, because he knew this wasn’t what you truly wanted. You never wanted kids, no matter what you had ever said, you were very adamant about that. He knew something was wrong, but he just couldn’t prove it.
Your due date came, but you died. You and the baby were found dead. Your husband killed you because you said you were tired, that you were going to pack up your son and leave him. He got angry. He wrecked the car with you in it. He survived because he jumped out, but neither you nor the baby did. He ran off, leaving you to die alone, slow and painfully.
Price knew it. He knew something was going on. He couldn’t believe it, but he knew it would eventually happen. Nobody he loves ever lives. They all die.
And that’s what happened to you. He loved you so much that you were destined to die. That curse will always follow him.
masterlist
a/n hellllooo guys i am back and im so so sorry that the first ting i post is angst but i swear ive got some more coming just be veryy patient with me and let me know if i should write more like this, i got this idea from a tiktok so its like 2am as im writing this i hope everyone has a good day or bight and happy holidays!!! sorry for the yap...
made this today!!! pinterest is johnprices1efttoe
also peep the watermark on his arm lol 😭
I love these things so much I would cry if I ever found a Sandman one from MW 3 I’ve found everyone but him strangely enough on insta tho? Least place I’d expect it considering my feed is the same as a 12 year old boys would be😭 I also got a fnaf one one time too
same feed as a 12 y/o??? IM CRYING😭😭 & i lowkey think i could do a sandman one, so that could be arranged….!!
made this today!!! pinterest is johnprices1efttoe
also peep the watermark on his arm lol 😭
THIS IS HEEAATT i’m in love with this . . the crush lyrics !!1!!1! 🚬
also pls where is the watermark am i blind
THANKKKKKKYOUQUEEN!!!THE WATER MARK IS REALLY LOW ON HIS ARM AND ITS KINDA BLURRY SO I GOTS TO FIX THAT
made this today!!! pinterest is johnprices1efttoe
also peep the watermark on his arm lol 😭