The Artwork That Made Me Drop Everything And Read Ursa Major

The artwork that made me drop everything and read Ursa Major

john price

bathing in the forest cause @the-californicationist made him do it (go read ursa major, that’s an order)

FROTHING 😫😫😫😫

A friend asked why I don't write the stuff I send her. So yaknow... here's me bring horny for price after found out barry sloane had an eyebrow piercing when he was younger.

If you like this definitely go find @dumbbitchgalore she has a lot of stuff for price, especially old man price, it's all very horny. And all 10/10. She is my muse for most the filthiest thought about that old man

Picture this

Older price, not quite old enough to retire, but getting a little grey in the muzzle. He comes home, expecting his lovely wife to be cooking a nice dinner as always.

What he doesn't expect is you to be sitting at the dining table. A little black, velvet, drawstring pouch to sitting in front of you. A little old, very dusty, but it's contents placed delicately on the table, five small pieces of stainless steel. Three standard straight barbells, a curved one, and a slightly thicker ring with cones instead of balls on the end.

You ask him what it is. He asked where you found it.

"I was just cleaning up. Answer my question" You insist.

"I was quite rebellious in my youth, I'll leave it there." he said, tone infuriatingly even, and his accent thick in a way that always made you want to fold. But you hold out just a little longer.

"Where?"

He rolled his eyes but indulged you, calloused finger sliding the piercings away from the group one by one.

"Eyebrow," he said, sliding the curved metal to him, "tongue, it's closed a very long time ago," a straight barbell just under the first, "nipples" he said, not elaborating, watching your face, wanting to see your reaction while he slid the last two further under the first ones, almost lining them up like he was picturing a diagram of his body on the table and he was lining each one up in it's proper place.

You were gawking. Obviously. The man you had known for years now, cooked for for longer then you had been married, fucked dumb more times then you could ever count.

"*You* had nipple piercing?!" You questioned, almost forgetting the final, thicker ring on the table.

"Aye. Had to take em out when I was a Lieutenant. Stricter rules then just a Sargent, " he explained. Reaching forward. Tapping the final ring.

"If ya guess this one I'll get it redone. Almost time to retire now anyway, no one will care whats in my skin if it aint a bullet anyway" he said, leaning back. Just watching as the gears in your pretty little head turned. Grinning as you carefully slid the ring into place, putting pace between the pair of straight barbells, as you went lower, sitting where you thought his navel would be in this imaginary diagram.

"Little lower lovie," he said, guiding your hand as the cogs finally clicked into place. "There ya go," he purred at you as you just stared at him.

GOING FERALLLL

!! This is genuinely what I imagine Simon and König's dicks look like. Just... absolute monster cocks.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

"Bravo Six, Going Dark."  -J.P

Series:

Don't Do That To Me

Oneshots:

*None yet*

Headcanons:

*None yet*

THAT'S SO FKN CUTE.

I can relate to that because i have short legs and i always need to jog to keep up with my friends

Being short and taking tiny steps. It's something he never really realized because you always forced yourself to keep up with his longer strides thanks to his superior height, but now as you're going home after a lunch date, he's walking behind you, and nearly bumping into you every few steps.

"You walk so slow," he states after forcing himself to slow down for the tenth time.

"Cuz I'm short. And I don't want to walk fast if I don't have to." You look over your shoulder to look up at him. "You know, you can walk ahead of me? Home isn't going anywhere, I'll meet you there."

Absolutely not. He's not gonna let you walk home alone.

Instead, he says, "I don't want to."

You let out a confused laugh, "What do you mean 'you don't want to'? You were complaining about how slow I am."

"Wasn't complaining." He pauses. "Just observing."

"But you're still rushing to get home," you point out when he almost bumps into you again.

"The game is starting in fifteen."

You roll your eyes. Him and his soccer.

"Then either walk ahead or don't. Or carry me if you're not gonna walk at my pace. I'm don't plan on speeding up, I'm tired of practically jogging just to keep up with you."

Now there's an idea.

"Alright."

"Alright?" You look at him suspiciously. "Alright what?"

"Alright I'll carry you."

Your eyes widen. "Wait-"

He doesn't let you finish, arms coming behind your back and knees, picking you up without any complaints. You squeak out his name, arms coming around his neck. "I-"

"-won't struggle to keep up with me." He shoots you a cocky look, setting a much faster pace. "We'll be home in five."

HOLT SHIT OMG

If you worked for the SAS you would one day find Soap's notepad and think you'd find cute doodles in there. WRONG. He has a page assigned for each person on base with fucking stats inclusive of things like arse peachiness, bruisability, handles (hips or hair). There are, you realise with some horror, tasting notes. And they're not just in his handwriting, this is a joint venture with his team. Who they want to fuck, who they have already, lewd details about gangbangs and kinks. They've fucking labelled anyone they know has a pussy as "self-lubricating".

It's a bit of a relief you're not in there. Well that's what you tell yourself anyway because deep down you're disappointed they don't think you're worthy of being in their dumb, awful book.

If you had snooped just a little longer maybe you'd have found that the reason you aren't is because a page wasn't enough, they have a whole other notebook dedicated to you complete with illustrations of what they think you look like under that uniform and detailed fantasies about you with tactical plans on how they're going to fulfill them.