CW: 18+ MDNI, Loan Shark!price X Reader Part 1, Fem!reader, Afab!reader, Noncon Elements, Manipulative

John Price × fem!reader

The only purpose of this post is to appreaciate titties

One thing John Price loves are your breast. He doesn't care about size, if they're perky or not, just boobs. It makes him happy. It's like a switch in his brain.

He's sad? Boobs. He's stressed? Boobs. He's tired? Boobs. He's arguing with you? Show your titties, he will shut up and worship the ground you walk on.

John Price just needs a pair of tits, a nice cigar and some whiskey to have a perfect life.

It think his breeding kink gets stronger when he realizes that your breast will swell with milk and probaly grow a cup size or two.

Expect him to paw at your body the whole time. Just feeling the soft skin, the squish, your cute baby bumb, more squish and your curves (more squish)

What if for dads bsf, he comes on a family trip to the beach with you and your father.

You in your bikini, the sneaked glances when your dad isn't looking. MAYBE have him apply sunscreen on you!

dadsbf!old man john price in his late 40s n young, innocent sweet fem!reader who’s 21

you’ve always been a mountain lover, sunny countryside and green lavish trees filled you with the warmest joy, but just like he would any other summer, your dad has forced you to come to the beach with him, stating that ‘vitamin d is important’, but what convinced you is that you can just lay down, read your book and sip chill cold cocacola in peace, especially since your dads best friend john price is coming with you

laying happily under the cozy shadow of a colorful umbrella, heart shaped glasses and a book in your hand, your reading is cradled by the gentle hum of the wind moving through the waves, but you find it hard to focus on the lines on the paper as your eyes keep moving towards him — his muscular, buff, hairy chest is wet, burly and decorated with a few scars, his dark, graying hair and beard kissed by the sun as he shook his head, thin drops of water falling over the sand.

you take a shaky breath, feeling your cheeks grow warm and red, brighter than the sun, and quickly look away, blushing hard and feeling bad for staring so much — but gosh, he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, so bulky and mature, aged in the most handsome way.

you toss over the towel, shifting position and continuing reading, already too caught up in the book to notice the looming and lurching shadow above you, that covered the sun rays — you tilt your head, and there he is, bundle of muscles, thick beard and intimidating, pure masculine energy.

“enjoying your book, love?” he asks playfully, his voice rough and low, quirking his brow as he let his eyes travel down your figure, shamelessly staring over your legs and adorable, vintage style bikin, all frills and ribbons — he sets his warm eyes back on your face, “what are you reading, Lolita?”

your cheeks are burning like flames, and you feel like you’re steaming with the hot air around you “m not, sir,”

he only laughs, a short, deep chuckle, before he tilts his head towards the water behind him “not gonna take a swim, doll?”

“dont think so, haven’t put on sunscreen yet..” you nibble on your bottom lip, head elsewhere, before you reach out to heap your bottle of coke “was waiting for someone to help me open this, can you help me sir, please?”

you give him big, doe eyes, your puffy lips parted slightly as your dolly features look up at him with such a tender, innocent look he needs to ignore how uncomfortable and suddenly tight his wet shorts feel.

“of course, doll face,” he takes it from your hands, opens it with a tiny, effortless twist of his large hand and hands it over to you, giving you a slight wink — you flame up under his gaze, and quickly bring the bottle up to your lips, mumbling a shy “thank you, sir”

the first sip is the best one, cold and frizzy bubbles running down your throat as you savor them — you let your eyes mindlessly set on him as you drink, almost choking with the coke when you notice how his own sharp ones are stuck on your lips wrapped around the bottle.

you swallow, placing the bottle down — your dad is swimming cluelessly back in the sea, near the limit of the string of buoys marking the swimming area, out of sight and of reach.

“need me to put sunscreen on you, princess, can’t have your delicate skin get burned now,” he says it almost like a command, stating it like you don’t have a voice in the matter and that makes your heart flutter — he brings his authoritative, caring and dominating attitude everywhere he goes, even when he’s not working, he’s a soldier in control of his surroundings inside and outside of the field.

“don’t wanna bother you sir, but thank you, alright..” you just blink, carefully placing your book down next to you and laying on the sandy towel, practically giving and serving yourself to him. he almost grunts at the sight, you, so young, too young, sweet and modest in your bikini, always dainty and refined.

“never bother me, sweet girl, stay still for old price, good girl” he grips — yes, grips — the sunscreen hardly and bends over one knee, applying it on both hands before starting to smear it over your skin, your arms, your legs and then your thighs. you almost gasp at the contact, his hands have always looked calloused, rough and scarred, like sandpaper, but they feel so good, warm and large against your skin.

he remains silent as he lower his hands and gently squeezed your thighs, a silent request, which you immediately followed by parting your thighs to him, still laying on your back — his hands apply the sunscreen on your inner thighs, close to where you ache the most, where you want him, but your bashfulness prevents you from addressing this need.

his thick fingers distractedly brush over your clothed clit, making you let out a soft, tiny sound, that sounded like a strangled whine and a little sigh — his eyes shoot out, completely and utterly in control, but when he spreads more cream next to your needy spot, you involuntarily buck your hips against his hand, making him clench his jaw and mutter down a restrained, growly “careful, doll, be a good girl and don’t move, said stay still”

you swallow back your embarrassment, your cheeks red and bright, whole face on fire as he shifts his hands on your tummy, caressing it and smearing more white cream on your flat chest, between your tiny, small boobs that are raising and falling with every hard breath.

“feel good, doll?”

you nodded, unable to say anything, but you wanted him to kiss you, to just take you however he pleased “yessir”

“good, on your tummy f’me now, come on” he pats your leg, and you quickly turn around, closing your eyes when you feel his large hands on your back, applying your cream — you arch your back against his fingers, earning a deep, amused chuckle from him.

“look at you, love, stretching yourself like a bunny, huh?”

you nod again, but this time, your eyes shoot open when you feel his thick mustache and beard pressed against the skin of your shoulder, pressing a light, small and tickling kiss — he lowers his hand and playfully pats your bottom, caressing it before drifting back. “done, love, all nice and safe.”

you’re left like this, blushing and wide eyed, watching him take a sip from your bottle of coke, and you can’t help but let your romantic mind think this is an indirect kiss.

old dog / new tricks

Your boyfriend John Price is older, more mature, and more experienced. This isn't his first shot at a committed relationship—but this time, he's doing it right.

John Price x f!reader. Age gap. Older man/younger woman. Daddy kink. Daddy issues. Divorced Price. Tags to be updated as needed.

second time around plumber old wounds

A masterlist for John Price and the girl next door.

On a cold winter's day in the early morning hours, you knock on your neighbor Captain John Price's door to make a noise complaint. You don't know much about him; only that he's a soldier in the SAS, and gone more often than he's home. You don't expect to like him as much as you do—or that he might share your longing for connection. Together, he and you may just learn how not to be lonely.

Also on Ao3.

Explicit chapters are highlighted red.

➳ In the Early Morning : You meet your new neighbor.

➳ Disquiet Comfort : John hears you through the walls.

➳ A Break in the Narrative : You add John to your morning routine.

➳ Gravity : John takes you out to dinner.

➳ Hands, and Their Uses : The neighbors relieve some tension. Alone.

➳ A Wake-Up Call : You deal with the aftermath of the previous night.

➳ Reviewing the Prelude : John misses you.

➳ Confessional Offerings : The neighbors lay their cards on the table.

➳ The Rain : You return home, and let John do to you what he's promised.

➳ The Flood : You finally fall into bed with John, and come to a startling realization.

Director's Commentary:

How did Neighbors get started? Why does John sleep in briefs? John's POV Where do you and John live?

➳ Spotify Playlist

Love me some casual Price

Barry Sloane as Zachary Heflin Longmire (2012-2017) Pt. 2

from the dirt we rise

pairing: farmer!john price x reader

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

masterlist

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

Charmed by Two

pairing: John Price x singlemom!Reader

synopsis: When John Price steps into your life, he’s not just falling for you—he’s falling for your spirited 4-year-old daughter, too. Without a father figure in sight, Price finds himself enchanted by the little girl’s charm and innocence. As he slowly earns her trust with bedtime stories, backyard adventures, and a well-placed British wit, he also finds himself falling deeper for you. But his determination to impress you both comes with a question: can he truly be the man you both deserve?

word count: 1574

warnings: Fluff, mild angst (discussions of past relationships), Price’s fatherly charm, emotional moments, and a lot of found-family vibes.

John Price had been in plenty of tight spots before—ambushes, firefights, missions that left him questioning if he’d make it home. He’d spent most of his adult life on the battlefield, navigating dangerous situations and making life-or-death decisions. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the delicate operation of holding a tiny pink teacup in his calloused hands,  pinky out, under the watchful eye of a four-year-old who was beaming up at him like he’d just hung the moon.  

"Mr. Price," she said with all the seriousness her little voice could muster, "you’re not holding it right. Your pinky has to stick out like this!" She demonstrated, her tiny pinky jutting out at an angle as she lifted her cup of imaginary tea.  

John chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest, and she giggled in response. "Right, right," he said, mimicking her movements, awkwardly extending his pinky. "Like a proper gentleman, yeah?"  

"Yes!" she exclaimed, her curls bouncing as she nodded.  

"Careful," your daughter warned, her tiny brows furrowing in a perfect imitation of your serious face. "You can’t spill it. This is very important tea."

"Got it, ma’am," he replied, his gravelly voice warm with humor. His pinky stuck out awkwardly as he mimicked her movements, holding the teacup steady. "Wouldn’t want to ruin the most important tea of the year."

She giggled, her curls bouncing as she leaned forward to pour another round of imaginary tea from her plastic teapot. "It’s the best tea in the world," she declared.

Price didn’t miss a beat, bringing the empty cup to his lips and sipping with exaggerated gusto. "Ah, perfect brew. You’re a natural, love. Could open your own tea shop."

Her eyes lit up, and she beamed at him like he’d just handed her the moon. "Really? You’d come to my tea shop?"

"Every day," he said solemnly. "I’d be your best customer."

From the doorway, you watched the scene unfold, your heart swelling at the sight. You hadn’t expected John to bond so easily with your daughter. When you’d first introduced them, you’d been nervous—terrified, even. She was your world, and letting someone into her life wasn’t something you did lightly. But John had stepped into the role with a natural ease that left you in awe.  

It wasn’t just the little things, like playing tea parties or reading her bedtime stories. It was the way he listened to her, the way he knelt to her level when she spoke, the way he made her feel important. He had a quiet patience with her that made your chest ache, especially knowing how her father had never shown her the same.  

"More tea, sir?" your daughter asked, holding out the teapot.  

"Don’t mind if I do," he replied, holding out his cup with a grin.  

She poured the imaginary tea with the utmost concentration, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. When she finished, she beamed up at him. "There! Now you have to drink it all, or it’s bad manners."  

"Bad manners, eh?" He raised an eyebrow, feigning seriousness. "Well, can’t have that."  

He brought the empty cup to his lips, making an exaggerated sipping sound, then smacked his lips. "Ah, that’s the best tea I’ve ever had."  

She erupted into giggles, her laughter filling the room.  

You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned against the doorframe. When he glanced up and caught your eye, his expression softened. He gave you a small, almost shy smile, as if to say, I’m trying my best.  

And he was.  

-

Later that evening, after your daughter had been tucked into bed and the house had fallen quiet, You found John in the kitchen, rinsing out the teacups she’d insisted on washing after the party. He looked up as you entered, a dish towel slung over one shoulder.

"Tea party wear you out?" you teased.  

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "She’s got more energy than I do, that’s for sure."  

"She adores you, you know," you said softly, your gaze steady on him.  

His eyes flicked to yours, something tender and vulnerable in his expression. "Yeah?"  

You nodded. "She talks about you all the time. Says you’re her hero."  

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but there was a weight behind his smile. "She’s a good kid. Smart, too. You’ve done a hell of a job with her."  

"Thank you," you murmured, your chest tightening. "But you’re the one she looks at like that now. Like you’re her whole world."  

His eyes distant for a moment before he turned to you. "I’ve never had anything like this before," he admitted. "Never thought I’d… fit into something like this. But I want to. For her. For you."  

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you reached out to his arm. "You do fit, John. Better than I ever imagined."  

He squeezed your hand, his voice low and steady. "I know I can’t replace… I know I’m not her dad. But I’ll do right by her, for as long as you’ll let me."  

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your heart full. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."  

You smiled despite yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something deeper.

This wasn’t the first time he’d spent an afternoon entertaining your daughter, but it was the first time you let yourself really think about what it meant. He wasn’t just playing along; he was present in a way you hadn’t expected. In a way that scared you.

This wasn’t something you’d planned for. When you’d first met John, you’d been cautious. He was older, gruff, and came with the kind of baggage you knew could complicate things. And you had your daughter to think about—her safety, her happiness. Letting someone into her life wasn’t just a decision for you; it was a decision for both of you.

And yet, here he was looking at your daughter like she was the most important person in the world. It was endearing, yes, but it also scared you. What if this didn’t last? What if he decided this wasn’t the life he wanted?

You closed your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing. The logical part of you knew John cared, but the quieter, more insecure part of you couldn’t help but question if this was all temporary. Was he here for you? For her? Or just because it was easy right now?

"Love, you alright?"

His voice startled you, and you quickly wiped your hands on your jeans, pretending you hadn’t been lost in your thoughts. He was looking directly at you, the tiara still perched on his head, though slightly askew. His eyes were soft, a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Yeah," you said quickly, offering him a small smile. "Just… thinking."

"You’ve got that look," he murmured.

"What look?"

"The one you get when you’re overthinking something," he said, his lips quirking up into a small smile. "Want to tell me about it?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you glanced past him toward the living room, where your daughter was now busy rearranging her tea set. "She really likes you," you said quietly.

John didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you carefully. "And you’re worried about that?" 

You let out a shaky breath. "She’s already been let down once. I don’t want her to get attached if…" Your voice trailed off, and you shook your head, looking away.

"If I leave?" he finished gently.

You nodded, feeling a lump rise in your throat. "It’s not just about her, though," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s about me, too."

His expression softened, and he reached out to take your hands in his. "Look at me, love."

You did, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes. "She’s brilliant, smart as a whip, full of life… she reminds me of you."  

"I know I can’t erase what she’s been through," he said quietly. "And I know I can’t promise to be perfect. But I’m here because I want to be. For her. For you. I’m not going anywhere." he continued, his voice low and steady.

You blinked up at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Tears stung your eyes, and you bit your lip, trying to keep them at bay. "You mean that?"

"With everything I’ve got," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I know you’ve been hurt before, and I know you’re scared, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mean it. I care about her, and I care about you. Both of you."

Tears welled in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, embarrassed. "I just… I don’t want to get this wrong."

"You’re not getting it wrong," he murmured, stepping closer until his forehead was nearly touching yours. "We’re figuring it out together. Yeah?"

You nodded, exhaling shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek. He reached up to brush it away with his thumb, his touch warm and reassuring.

"Besides," he added with a small grin, "I think your little one’s already decided I’m sticking around. She said I’m her best customer, remember?"

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing. "She really has taken to you."

"And I’ve taken to her," he said simply. "To both of you."

taglist:

@honestlymassivetrash

BARRY SLOANE as Joe 'Bear' Graves in SIX (2017—2018) Episodes 2.01/2.08

”is that what you’re wearing today, doll?”

“yes, why, you don’t like it daddy?🥺”

“your dad fine with that?”

“go ask him, sir, you’re his best friend”

“the thighs, off. in my pocket, now”

“you’re gonna keep them?”

“yeah, just like I’m gonna keep you tied to my office chair if you don’t stop teasing me. behave, sweetheart”