One Of My Things About Price Is How He Treats The Women He Interacts With. Like When He Talks To Farrah

tea party gone tactical

aka: simon riley, code name: daddy

there’s glitter in the creases of his knuckles. plastic rings on every finger, tea stains on his jeans, and a tiara— pink, crooked— sitting proud atop his buzzed hair. simon riley, six-foot-something slab of elite military steel, has just been declared princess cupcake the third, ruler of the sugar kingdom. and he has orders to attend high tea at precisely four o’clock sharp.

he obliges. obviously.

the living room has been transformed into chaos of the most devastating kind—childhood imagination. there’s a tablecloth made from an old baby blanket, plastic saucers balanced on top of hardcover books, plushies seated like dignitaries from rival kingdoms. one has an eyepatch. another wears his sock. a stuffed unicorn has a crayon drawn scar and a tactical vest made of paper.

across from him, on her little purple beanbag throne, his daughter beams. two missing teeth. a feather boa dragging on the floor. she pours lukewarm apple juice into tiny cups, careful, careful, tongue poking out in concentration. simon watches like it’s a mission briefing. she finishes with a flourish.

“sir cupcake, would you like sugar?” she says, all posh and prim and nearly squeaking with excitement.

he nods solemnly. “two lumps. gotta keep my energy up.”

she plunks invisible sugar into his cup with a spoon the size of her hand. simon pretends to sip. “delicious,” he says, setting the cup down with exaggerated grace. “might be the best cuppa i’ve ever had, actually.”

“better than mummy’s?” she asks, eyes wide, clearly testing boundaries.

he leans in, whispers behind one big, calloused hand, “don’t tell 'er, but yeah. loads better.” she giggles—full, bubbly, from-the-gut giggles—and his heart pulls like a parachute cord mid-fall. she moves on to the cupcakes—half crumbled fairy cakes from the corner bakery you brought home last night, now decorated with more sprinkles than frosting. she smashes one into a napkin, offering it like a truce treaty.

“thank you, commander sprinkle,” he says, accepting the mashed sugar bomb and taking a heroic bite.

“you’re welcome,” she says, eyes shining. “you’re the bravest daddy in the kingdom!”

something warm knots in his chest. not the cupcake— he could take five more of those—but the way she looks at him, like he built the sky with his hands and tucks the stars in at night.

simon clears his throat, glances down at his ring-bedazzled fingers, the glitter on his arms, the juice in his lap. “…i'd go to war for you, y’know.”

she nods solemnly, not entirely sure what that means—but knowing it’s important.

then she picks up her pink plastic walkie-talkie and presses the button. “monster in the hallway. repeat, monster in the hallway! might be mummy coming to check if we ruined the carpet..”

simon stands, dramatically brushing invisible crumbs off his lap. he adjusts his tiara. lifts his plush unicorn with military precision. “on it, commander.”

and then, he charges out of the room, bare feet thudding against the floor, in search of the ‘monster’—glitter trailing behind him like smoke from a flare.

Gene gene gene gene i love you gene

i just realized that tumblr allows multiple audio files in a row and they autoplay consecutively on mobile

I wanna hold John Price’s face in my hands. Tell him he’s my big bear and that I love him very much. And his beard, love that beard.

I SCREAMED. NEIL ELLICE FOR PRESIDENT

oh my god.

“oh i’m a feminist. i wanna put a woman on top. and on the back, on her knees”

just some bloke…

⌖ simon quits smoking for you / headcanon & drabble

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . dead-flight .ᐟ masterlist

it took one injury. one, minorly life threatening injury. a knife to the gut, twisted as it was ripped out. fuck, he could taste the smell of blood.

he only remembered the evac, and then the prattling of the cart wheels of his stretcher as they pulled him in for treatment. as simon comes to, the rhythmic beeping of the IV is accompanied by the quiet sobs beside him, the fabric of the hospital gown damp on his shoulder. looking over, his eyebrows furrowing.

he almost drops to his knees there, begs you to forgive him for being so careless when he sees the grief-stricken look on your face. like you'd almost seen your entire future wither away, because you had.

and the way you listened so attentively to the medic as they taught you how to change his bandages--he could've cried.

when he was finally allowed home, you were so careful around him. didn't hug him too hard, didn't let him carry heavy things--you were terrified he'd reopen his wound, that something else would happen to hurt him.

so when you watch him with that same look, that terrified, i-don't-want-to-lose you look, your eyes pleading with him as he steps outside for a smoke, he almost throws the entire pack on the floor.

simon smoked, yeah. he never cared that it'd shorten his lifespan, that he might cause his own death with it... he didn't think he'd even live long enough to see that happen. surely it was more likely he'd be killed in the line of duty than a nicotine stick.

but those eyes made him want to stop. made him careful, made him consider.

simon had never had a future before you, just battle after battle and hopes that one day he'd be killed honourably. but the day you gave him those eyes, he signed himself up for a help program.

because fuck him, if he doesn't do everything he can live for you.

What about Simon on a mission injured, with his pretty little nurse, who everyone knows because of her temper, but is so so submissive with him?

MDNI 18+

cw: brief mentions of gunshot wound, oral (m) receiving

“fuck, i did a bad one didn’t i luvie?” simon grunted as he sat shirtless on the bed, his wound bandaged up. it wasn’t a secret that simon took an interest in you, after all he was mainly surrounded by men and not pretty women like you. “you should’ve been more careful, any deeper and you could’ve bled out badly,” your voice soft but slightly stern, as if you were trying to hide your concern.

a lazy smile formed on his face, “s’not like i could’ve avoided a gunshot wound easily, ‘m not that good.” captain price walked into the room, his shoulders relaxing under the heavy uniform when he saw simon. “bet yer getting a good lashin from the nurse eh? she’s got quite an attitude.”

oh, if only they knew.

you stayed the night at the medical facility, a lame excuse of spending more time with simon. “you’re injured, the last thing you would want is to do some strenuous activities,” you mumbled, trying to keep yourself occupied so he wouldn’t see the faint blush on your cheeks. “awh come on luvie, yer old man is injured and you can’t provide some sort of relief?” his voice soft as he gently tugged you towards him.

“just a few bounces won’t hurt.”

“or you can blow me.”

he winced when you gently smacked his chest, “come on luvie, ‘m a strong man i know my limits.” his large hands gently rubbed along your sides, your thin uniform barely doing anything to hide the shivers. “everyone talks about yer feisty mouth, about time i see it hm?”

it was funny hearing his task mates talk about your attitude, but yet you were all gooey eyed for him whenever he snuck into your room late at night, making you cock drunk. a few thrusts in your little cunt and you would do whatever he says - literally simon says, it was pathetically cute.

“gonna suck my cock pretty nurse? or do i have to fuck it in my hands in front of you?”

he knew exactly what you were going to chose.

“atta girl,” he hissed as you knelt by the flimsy medical bed, his large tatted hand holding up your hair in a pony tail. “gotta stuff that pretty lil mouth every once in a while after givin’ everyone some attitude.”

you gagged slightly when you took him too deeply, drooling all over his cock and making a mess on your hands. “take yer time luvie, no one is gonna see us,” simon cooed softly at the pathetic sight of you. god, everyone knew about how fiery you were but here you are on your knees sucking simon off.

“fuck luvie ‘m gonna cum,” he grunted as his hips thrusted slightly, the feeling of your warm mouth milking him dry. eventually he spilt all of it in your mouth, a string of saliva connecting from your mouth to the tip of his cock.

“such a pretty girl, someone’s gotta tame you hm?”

simon gently smearing the cum that dribbled down his cock along your plush swollen lips, making them glossy. gently he slipped his thumb in, you obediently sucking it. “got yer real good hm?”

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