SHY WIFE AND PRICE....ARE YOU FREAKIN KIDDING ME!!!!!Imagine this Adonis of a man spoiling her from the first date and even her being shy, the 141(plus Kate) KNOW who's the boss( he ALWAYS have a photo and a story about Mrs.Price and it's just the cutest thing how his eyes light up that they also love her)
CUUUUUUTE AAAAAA!! GNAWING ON MY BARS RN!! And thank you for specifying the Adonis of a man bit! Can't forget about that!! ☝🏼😌💗
Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!
COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌
Come & check out my COD m.list!
In any case of our beloved shy!wife fics, especially with his line of work, just expect your husband to have a polaroid or five of you ready.
And John is no different.
You must be a special one if you managed to catch the eyes of the captain, and to clarify, you are!
John knew there was no going back to his mundane yet chaotic lifestyle the second he asked you out. It took everything in him not to chuckle at your look of disbelief, your lips parting just a tad bit. He didn’t want you to think he was making fun of you, you were genuinely adorable with your expressiveness. And though had told him you were open to anything, even specifying that you wouldn’t mind anything small and simple, he didn’t let you.
He took you out to dinner on your first date, nothing too fancy, though that couldn’t be said the same on the later dates, gifted you a small but beautiful bouquet and the rest was history.
And amazingly, he gets even better at spoiling you after he puts a ring on your finger. As if he wasn't already good since your first date!
Kisses or cakes, hugs or huge bouquets, he'll always find a way to spoil you. Because you—your smiles, giggles and laughs, your time and your love for him means so much.
More than you can imagine.
A sweetheart, a gentleman. You couldn’t ask for a better man to fall for you, though, like him, you were mind-blown to even think a man, no, a hunk like him showed interest in you. Made you feel wanted, special—someone he wanted to be with with zero hesitation.
He wouldn’t be able to forget your shy smile, how you’d mindlessly trail your fingers across the table or your lap out of embarrassment, how your fingers curled around his hand, despite averting your gaze from his cheeky smile many dates later.
And though the wedding was small, to him, it felt like a sweet fairytale.
To finally be able to call you Mrs Price.
Laswell had the privilege to meet you first before everyone else. She enjoys the sisterly moments you’d have, a breath of fresh air from the craziness, to say the least, that she has to witness in her lifetime. Always appreciates you checking in on her via messages or if she’s lucky, a quick call. And it becomes a tradition of hers to jokingly remind John to take care of you and not to drive you crazy.
And then, there were the boys.
Johnny was the one who asked about you, catching the man looking at one of the polaroids of you with nothing but love in his eyes. Longing to get it over with and come home to you. Johnny didn’t think he’d be willing to talk about you at all, let alone more than a few sentences, i.e. privacy reasons or he just prefers to be on his own. Take in the quiet moment before any hell breaks loose later on.
Understandable, so imagine not only his surprise but also the rest of the 141 when he talks about you. First, with pure endearment in his tone, then the story gets romantic, cheesier even, but all three of them listened to his stories like no other (read: a father telling his kids how he met their mother), even if they acted like they were just casually fixing their weapons or thinking to themselves.
C’mon, he knows them!
Like John, you treat the boys like your very own. If Johnny, Kyle or Simon wanted to be doted over—to be cared for, something they haven’t felt in a while even if some of them wouldn’t want to admit it, then you’d give them millions! Even something as little as a handwritten message or passing them a few words i.e. take care and good luck via John.
Visiting the Price’s house now feels like a family thing. Again, it’s cheesy, it’s corny, and maybe even childish to some, for a bunch of men to be looking forward to these visits like a child being away from their parents at a dorm during college, none of you cared. Not you. Not John. And most importantly, not his boys.
None of them could have imagined your words to stick in their minds in dire times. A little motivation to return safely. Back to the base, for John, and back the Price’s home, for you.
“Johnny, I’m out of a few things in the kitchen. Could you drop by the store and get these for me, please?” “Can do!”
“Simon, have you seen John’s car keys? I can’t find them anywhere.” “I can help look for it w’you.”
“Kyle, I told you I can handle the fireplace.” “S’not that hard. Don’t worry!”
Home.
Bonus: A lil’ story I’m still working on with the COD men + dogs includes John with an American Akita. Similar to Phillip and Kai, John’s gigantic pupper tends to prefer listening to you to him.
His intolerance for certain people or animals drops in an instant the second he sees you, turning into a baby (your baby, might John add) but he also knows when duty calls. Ears tilting back and growling at a stranger who doesn’t know, or worse; ignores that you're taken.
And in John’s words: good boy.
˚ · . f i n . · ˚
1K notes
·
View notes
🌹😘
Thank you for sending in a rose my love! I get so excited sharing little pieces of my wip's with you guys!
Here's a little something for König... that is now updated and finished!
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)
Established relationship, dirty talk, anal fingering, mentions of anal sex, unprotected vaginal sex, lots of German (with English translations)
Heavy breaths and firm grabs, a small sound of wetness, the smell of sweat. This is what currently consumes your senses. There are other things, of course, that add to the atmosphere. A candle you’d lit before his presence took hold of your night, the soft blanket you’d put on the couch rubbing against your thigh. It was already dark, the lights dim as night crept by. And usually, he wouldn’t have visited at this time. But it wasn’t his fault, it just happened to be the time they let him out tonight.
“Mm,” It’s a forceful moan, followed by the release of a gasp.
He’s holding you, one hand on your cheek, fingers pressing into your crease; his other on your waist, arm wrapping around your lower back. Pulling you into him, you rest on his chest, leaning entirely on the firmness of his body. And he supports your weight easily, happily. He yearns to feel the weight of you against him.
“Meine Liebling,” He breathes out against you, the hand on your ass tightening its grip. “Meine Liebling.” (my darling, my darling)
Your forehead moves over his chest, nodding. “Yes,” Comes your small squeak, eyes pinching shut. “Yes.”
Coming home to you is different; he’s truly returning to where he belongs. In the land he was born, with the woman he loves, every part of who he is, is with him now. Once again, all that he adores is in his very hands.
With your arms linked around his neck, you can feel his muscles bulging beneath the surface, his skin is warm - genuinely hot to the touch.
“Fuck,” It comes out as a forceful whisper, clinging to him desperately.
It goes without saying, but he says it anyway. “Ich habe dich vermisst.” I missed you. Leaning down, he kisses your cheek, your face scrunched up from the painful pleasure he brings.
“Ich weiss.” Nodding again, you gasp, feeling his hips push up against you. You’re already sitting on him, how much deeper could he possibly get? “Mein Kriegerin, mein schutz." (I know. My warrior, my protector)
Groaning, his head falls back. He’s yearned to hear you speak those words. He’s wished to hear them for weeks.
“I will always take care of you, always protect you.”
It feels like he’s in your guts, your legs spread as wide as they can so you can sit comfortably on his lap. With his hand looped around your lower back, he keeps you in place, stuffing his fingers into your ass. You’re taking two for him. In the beginning, it took time, but now? It’s even easier than him filling you with his length. Regardless, he was always so sweet and gentle and patient with your body, his hands caressing every inch of you.
Sliding one of your hands down his chest, he grabs it, pressing his lips to the back of it. The soft skin of his mouth runs across your fingertips, the hot breath of his moans fanning against your digits. Leaning forward, he continues his kisses, mouth sliding over your shoulder and neck.
“König.”
He’s right up against your ass, the tops of his thighs pressing to the bottom of yours. Slow and squishy thrusts are what he gives, grinding into you. And then he throbs, purposefully, too. It makes you quiver, trembling limbs holding onto him as he coos sweetly to you.
“Ich bin hier.” He whispers to you, sliding his fingers a bit further into you. “Du bist stark, hübsch.” (I’m here. You are strong, pretty)
It feels like you can’t handle it, but you take it. You take everything for him. He never demands it, but you take it.
It wasn’t his idea to break up, it was entirely yours. You insisted that it was for the best, telling him that you both were better off without each other. It wasn’t fair, constantly having to worry about the other. After so many tours, it became difficult to handle the emotional trauma of it all. Every day you worried about him, worried until it made you sick. And he thought about you just as much. Before you, he looked forward to being deployed. As strange and twisted as it may sound, König truly loves what he does. But with you around… it puts a particular strain on him. After being with him for so long, though, it was impossible to go without his presence, his love. And König felt the same. You’re always scared you’ll lose him. But you’ve decided he’s the man you love, the person you can’t live without. So, why would you deprive yourself of spending every minute you can with him?
“Need you,” Comes your small whimper, nails digging into his shoulder. “Ich brauche dich.” (I need you)
“I’m here,” He repeats, in English this time. “I’m here with you.” Exhaling a few heavy breathes, he promises. “I’m not going anywhere, Schatz. I’m not leaving you.” (Sweetheart)
It was his first deployment without hearing from you, his first time without plans of coming home to you. And he couldn’t take it. He didn’t know where else to go. He needed you, he fucking needed you.
When he came in, he’d dropped his backpack on the couch, neither one of you speaking a word. You knew what the other wanted. You’d cried your eyes out while he was gone, and now, all you wanted was to be as close as physically possible to him. And of course, that meant him being inside you. He’d reached into a pocket in his backpack, retrieving a bottle of lube. On missions, he liked to use it when he jerked off. Right now, he’s using it to cram his cock and fingers inside you.
“Scheiße,” It comes out as a hiss, one expressed by him. (Shit)
Applying more pressure, his fingers bottom themselves out inside you, opening you up while he splits you in half on his cock. He loved doing this; he knew how much it overwhelmed you. And maybe he had a little fixation with this, with playing with your upper hole. He’s fucked it before, but not without licking and fingering it first. He loves the fact that he has to work you open for him to fit, no matter where he is.
“You can’t get rid of me, hübsch, not that easily.” (pretty)
“I don’t ever want to do that again, baby.” You admit wholeheartedly to him, tears welling in your eyes as you press your forehead to his chest.
“König,” You whine out for him again, feeling his fingers pump into your tightest channel.
“Does it feel good, Schatzi?” (Sweetheart)
“Yes!” Pushing yourself back into his hand, he grins, humming pleasantly from your desperate act.
“Oh…” He sighs deeply, “So bist du so schön.” (You look so beautiful like this)
Lifting your head with a dramatic breath, you kiss him, pressing your lips to the softness of his. In times like this, he wears a tighter mask instead of his sniper hood. Specifically, he wears a black balaclava, one still adorning those signature red streaks below his eyes. He does it so he can lift it easier, use his mouth on you easier.
The love König has for you is infinite, but still, he won’t ever let you see his face. He doesn’t want you to be able to identify him in other places… on documents, specifically. He’ll never allow you to discover the things he’s done. When he’s on deployment, he’s a different man; you wouldn’t recognize him.
Aside from you, everyone that knew König knew he was a merciless man. He was dangerous and fearsome - lethal, and sometimes without reason. He followed orders well; he does what he has to do. Or rather, what he likes to do. König doesn’t believe in a god, how could someone when they wake up every day to kill twice as many people as they did yesterday? But still, he prays for the day you see his face. He prays that day never comes.
“Mehr, bitte.” You’re begging for him, hands reaching for his neck to keep him close so you can kiss him again. (More, please)
It’s easy for him to give into you, thrusting up harder between your legs. The muscles he’s worked to build over the years allow him to treat you this way, to hold you so easily on his lap and manipulate your body. They’re bulging against his uniform, the gorgeous form of his biceps.
He groans from your words, pulsating his hips upward much quicker than before. The slick squelch of him re-entering your sex has him going mad, your soft insides repeatedly sucking him in. And the expanse of his palm continues to spread out over your ass, pumping his fingers into you. But then, he’s moving them, sliding them out of your body.
“Baby, no,” You protest, eyes finding him. “Put them back in; please put them back in?”
When you lift your face to look at his, he’s smiling, the scar running through his upper lip curling and stretching the skin. In one fluid motion, his fingers are on his lips, parting them to welcome the digits in. It sends a shock through your entire body, watching his lips close around his thick digits. Holding your gaze for only a second, he sucks on them, lids fluttering shut as he moans.
Reaching up, you slide the pad of your pointer finger over his lower lip, entranced by him. “I love it…”
A low snarl rumbles from the back of his throat, the taste of your tightest hole lingering on his tongue. After wetting his fingers, he returns them to your backside, slipping into your taut hole with ease. Your soldier growls quietly from it, from how effortlessly they go in.
“You take it so good,” His voice is tantalizing, the way he speaks to you sending a shiver through your body. “You’re so good to me…”
You feel like you can barely breathe, hiccuping and sniffling below him as he repeatedly enters you. You’re overwhelmed from his body and his overt adoration and love, the thickness of him stuffing you full until you’re shaking with pleasure and begging for more.
“Oh,” You gasp, clinging to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Ducking down, you attach your lips to his skin, mouth sucking on him until darkened splotches begin to cover him. His skin is salty, the sweat from his tiring day lingering on him. Truly, no one will ever see them, the bruises you leave, so it’s easy for you to get carried away with it. And he might, in turn, get a little carried away, too.
Removing his fingers from you once again, he uses both hands to grip your hips, fully lifting and lowering you onto him. He does it in time with his thrusts, his grunts coming from deep in his chest and punching into the air. And you can’t take it, the forceful jab of his tip against your fleshy walls. With the way he fucks you, it’s like he’s trying to mold you to him, to carve out your insides until they only remember him.
“Liebling,” Your lover growls, his voice straining. When you don’t look up at him, he lifts a hand, grabbing your chin and forcing it up at him. “Liebling…” (Darling) (Darling…)
“My love.” Reaching up, you stroke his half-covered face, sighing as you admire him.
Entirely numb, your eyes drift shut, doing your best to meet his gaze but failing miserably. You’re drunk from it, mind turning to mush as he fucks himself into your body. And it’s weeping for him, the wetness of your cunt soaking his skin, the veiny intrusion stretching your sensitive lips. But his next words shock you, bringing you down from the clouds of your lusty haze.
“I would die for you.”
“König…” Mumbling quietly, you’re struck by his confession.
“I would kill for you.” And he means it, too.
Though you hate to admit it, you know your lover is a deadly man. You know he’s killed people, you know he’s done awful things. But you never ask about it, because you know you’d be disappointed. If you’re honest with yourself, though, you don’t ask because you’re worried you’d become scared.
“You’ll never have to.” It’s a promise you can’t keep; you both know it.
“If I did,” He admits honestly, looking deeply into your heavy-lidded eyes. “You wouldn’t know.”
Immediately, you surge forward, pressing your lips to his. His words come from a place of goodwill, of genuine love and protection.
The wetness between your legs continues to drip down onto his lap, aiding in your continuous slide. He knows he’ll want you more than once tonight, and still, he doesn't have any restraint with you. He doesn’t build up to an intense fuck, doesn’t tease or edge you. With König, every time was like the last, like he’d never get to be inside you again - like he’d never get to feel your squishy walls while you cry out brokenly for him again.
“You want them inside?” Slowly, he drags his pointer and middle fingers along your damp crease, bringing you back to your earlier plea.
“Please,” Your fingernails are clawing at his chest, sex choking the thick intrusion shoving its way into you.
A gentle shake of his head. “You dirty thing…”
Easily, they return to you, a small squish emitting into the air. His lip curls into a brief snarl, a low grunt slipping out of him. “So feucht…” Retracting, he pushes them back in, listening to the wet squelch of your asshole taking his fingers again. “And all for me.” (So wet…)
You can feel yourself slipping, can feel that inevitable drop in the pit of your stomach he so easily brings. It’s already come once tonight, and he’ll make sure it comes again.
“König!” Briefly crying out for him, you lift your head, latching your lips to his.
Even with one hand occupied, he’s still able to move you like it’s nothing, like you weigh absolutely nothing to him. The firm shove of his hips up into your center makes you squeak with every bounce, every thrust he gives.
Eagerly, he meets your kiss, desperately moving his mouth against you. And his own moans only become louder at this, the feel of your talented mouth dancing across his lips. It’s the only thing that truly flustered him, the desperate look on his face evident when you pull away. And when you’re leaning in again, that excitement is written all over his blushing skin, his open mouth waiting for your tongue. Licking into him, his first whine of the night pierces your ears, his cock throbbing while seated balls deep inside your sensitive sex.
“Halt still,” You order softly, holding his face in your hands. (Don’t move)
Slowly, you move your hips against him, lips suctioning around his tongue while you do it. It’s his weak spot, the act that makes him go absolutely dumb.
“Mehr,” He whimpers when you pull away, moaning at the feeling of you bouncing your hips over and over again. (More)
“Mehr?” You tease, grinning.
“Mehr,” Your lover grunts out forcefully, pistoning his hips up into you again. “Ich komme gleich.” (More, I’m about to cum)
Diving in, your lips wrap around his tongue once again, sucking on the wet muscle for him. Immediately, his eyes are rolling back, feeling the powerful thrum of your walls around his thick erection. Harshly, he shoves himself into the slickness of you, your sweet arousal leaking onto his lap. It stains the cargo pants he didn’t care to take off, but he cares not about the wet spots that will be left.
More than ever before, you can feel the muscles in his chest tightening, his abdomen contracting as he prepares for the high you’re giving. Those ridiculously powerful arms secure themselves to your torso, ripping his fingers from your backside to do so. He holds onto you, almost painfully so, unable to help the forceful jerk of his hips up against your cunt.
“K-Königin,” Your lover moans sharply, eyes pinching shut as you let go of his talented tongue. “Meine Königin…” Grinning, you hum. A small play on his name. (Q-Queen, my Queen…)
Grinding his pelvis against your ass and thighs, he unloads himself into your very center. It’s thick and warm, the heaviness of his cock sitting firmly against your walls as his body shivers from the sensation of it.
“König…” Leaning in, you brush the tip of your nose over his chin, his cheek, kissing his exposed skin. “Ich liebe dich.” (I love you)
Instantly, he’s returning the phrase, albeit while slightly winded. It doesn’t help his breathlessness when he can feel the sticky wetness of himself dripping from your lips and all over his lap. He hisses at the feeling of it, the gooiness seeping into his pants.
“Oh…” Panting, he drops his head back, groaning out a small ounce of praise. “Braves Mädchen.” (Good girl)
Leaning in, you rest your forehead against his shoulder, cunt aching but you’re basking in it. Everything feels cold and wet, your combined releases and sweat. And still, you cling to each other, pulling the other as close as they can possibly get.
But he can’t rest long; this is the first time he’s cum tonight, and he’s remiss you didn’t do so twice before him.
A menacing shade takes over the coloring of his eyes as his head lifts, dominant hand sliding up to find your throat. Grasping it firmly, he lifts you from his shoulder, holding you before him.
“Nochmal.” (Again)
649 notes
·
View notes