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celestialwhoree · 3 months

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🎀🩷

John Price & his wifey💕

Price considers himself a somewhat traditional man, and he's proud of it! Not in the sense that he believes that women belong in the kitchen and that men should call the shots, but in the belief that women should be respected - looked after.

His now wife is perfectly happy to indulge him in that way. She's far from docile or subservient like most men expect of housewives, oh no, she's an absoulute firecracker when it comes down to it, which only makes John love her more.

She's happy to play house, 'hold down the fort' as John calls it, which makes her feel important. He works so fucking hard, and she just wants him to have a beautiful home and lots of yummy food to come back to.

She has a part time job or works from home, because she flat out refuses to be financially dependent on anyone. Upon marrying John, though, she was able to quit her 9-5 that made her miserable and persue her passions.

John gets her a dog to keep her company until they can think about starting a family proper. He's most definitely antsy to have kids with her though. He's already training up his subordinates to a standard which will allow him to take a more hands off approach and spend more time at home.

The 141 know he's married, but John only really talks about her when asked. He wants to protect her, but also wants to seperate the little life he's building for himself from the blood and gore of the life he's getting ready to leave behind.

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

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What Are We (3 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): light angst, soft!Price, heavy suggestive themes, canon-typical swearing

Word Count: 978

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Not interested in playing games, Price makes it clear what he wants.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

“Are we doing this or no, love?”

You glance up from your morning tea, surprised. “What?”

John crosses his arm and leans against the edge of the counter. He’s only wearing sweatpants, and his bare chest is distracting. He might be older, but John is just as strong as the younger men that work under him. Those large arms of his are all corded muscle and protruding vein. His chest and stomach have a thickness to them that speaks to more than simply going to the gym.

“Us,” he replies. “What are we? What are we doing?” He sounds slightly huffy. Not angry, just impatient. In need of an answer.

You swallow down the burning liquid and nearly grimace from the heat. “I—what do you mean?”

One eyebrow rises, almost in chastisement. Which is fair since you know what John is pushing back about even as you feign innocence. Right now, you don’t want to face the reality. What you and John have is so peaceful that pushing it forward—or back—might disrupt the quiet, shattering it all like smashed glass.

John sighs, and reaches out, placing his large palm over the mouth of your tea mug. His fingers grip it, and you know to let it go, to release your hold. John sets the mug down on the counter next to him.

Spreading his legs, John uncrosses his arms, holding them out in front of him. “Come here,” he murmurs, and the tone is so soft and inviting that you immediately comply, entering his arms like melted butter over toast.

Fuck, he’s warm. A furnace.

You wrap your arms around his middle, and John does the same, tucking you against his body. “We live together,” he says.

“Yes.”

“We sleep in the same bed.”

You nod. “That we do.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement. “I’ve met your bloody parents.”

“What’s your point?” you ask, haughty and stubborn.

Price’s hand drops lower. Squeezes. The power behind it forces you further against him, and you feel everything, especially the hardness that hasn’t appeared to abate since the morning’s quickie.

“My point, is that we need to call this what is it.”

Shit. This is it. You’re going to have to face the reality of this and look it in the face. You and Price are not simply friends. You are not even friends with benefits or a uncomplicated fling. This is real. Truly and utterly real and yet you keep denying what sits in front of you.

You and John are a couple. That is what this is.

He has met your parents. He has met your friends. You know his coworkers—at least the ones he trusts enough to share your existence with. The two of you talk about the future together, never pivoting away from the possibility of separation.

Everything happens together. Everything.

So why keep denying it?

“I’m not looking to play games, love.” John reaches up and slides his hand to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your throat. “With my career, I need stability when I come home.” He hugs you closer. “I want you as my wife. Little versions of us running around.”

He closes the distance, lightly pressing his lips to yours. With the hold on your throat, John is a bit possessive with it, a little rough in the way he holds you. It’s such a contrast to how his lips caress your skin, tasting softly.

John releases your lips, pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. “If you don’t want these things, you tell me now.” The husky drop in his voice sends a shiver straight to your core, makes you slick between the thighs.

Returning to your lips, John’s pressure increases, becomes slightly desperate. Slightly choking with his need to get his point across. You need to make a decision. You need to tell John what you want.

Because, you do want him. You crave him every second of every day. But this is a massive step, and John’s life is an unpredictable assortment of missing time and extended absences. The stability John desires is something you are more than willing to give, but you also don’t want to carry that burden all on your own.

“What happens when you’re not here, John?” you ask, once he’s ceased kissing you. “And even when you are, am I to take up the mental load?”

There are times when you will need to give more, or John might have to, but you don’t want to be left to do it all yourself. John’s job is difficult. It can be traumatizing and stressful, but you need to know if he’ll be present when he returns.

You don’t need to elaborate. You don’t need to explain. John already knows. He understands.

“Coming home to you in between is the happiest I’ve ever been. I just want you here. Everything else is negotiable.”

You smile against his mouth. “I thought you said you wanted little versions of us running around?”

John shrugs. “I do. If you don’t, that’s fine.” Both hands fall away from your body to firmly squeeze your ass. “But I will fuck you like we’re trying.”

“John!” you rear back and playfully smack his chest.

He nuzzles your neck and inhales, drawing you right back into him. “We can go try right now.” John lightly presses his pelvis against you and you smile as his desire creates a pressure between your bodies.

“We don’t have anything planned today,” you murmur.

John squeezes harder. “Exactly, love. We have the whole day.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glassgulls @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project

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reveluving · 5 months

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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 . · ˚

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lethalchiralium · 6 months

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Mirrorball | John Price x F!Reader

a/n: me?? posting??? in this economy?? unheard of. this is definitely not me writing needy price whaaaat

warnings: mentions of injury, trauma

summary: You’re trying to sleep, but someone wakes you up with a long awaited phone call. OR, John’s outside of your door, begging for forgiveness.

It was a work day tomorrow and someone had the audacity to call you in the middle of the night. Your eyes tried to blink away the murkiness of sleep as you answered the call, not even paying attention to the ‘Unknown Caller’ blinking at the top of the screen.

“Hey.”

Your head fell back into your pillow, your hand holding your phone to your ear.

“Yes, John.”

“Don’t be that way.”

Your hand gripped your phone a little more, now that you were waking up more.

“Well, seeing that it’s…” You pulled the phone from your ear, looking at the time on the screen, “2:45 in the morning on a Tuesday, you’re only calling ‘cause you’re bored.”

There was a scoff on the line. “Why can’t you just accept that maybe I’m worried about you?”

Your eyes were still closed, your eyebrows furrowed and you mumbled, “Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up.”

There was silence. Just the warmth that flooded through your chest every time you heard his low breathing; a signal, a waypoint, your reminder that no matter how much you want to turn away, there’s no escape from your desperate need for John Price. Your fingernails dug into your pillowcase, tears that have broken glass now soak the silk underneath your head. You could almost smell the rich tobacco that seemed to envelop his clothes and his worn skin - he was the feeling of sunlight reflected on shattered glass. Shining just for you.

You could imagine his hand curling your hair behind your ear, his soft lips pressing kisses into your hairline, your shoulder, your spine. You had memorized the way his hand would gently graze over your side, featherlight movement as he would whisper his promises, his mantras, but ignore your desires.

“M’here.”

Even in your half-asleep state, you felt a rush of confusion.

“You were in Afghanistan last night.”

“I lied.”

“You seem to do that often, John.”

Silence again. Your eyes opened to your dimly light room, the small light plugged into your wall helped you make out everything in your room. The jacket of his that still was tossed over the back of your favorite chair, most of his clothes hung in your closet - deep browns and dreary grays that were pressed against your bright blues, greens, and yellows. His breathtaking fiancé dressed in all of the colors that made you feel happy - but all were a farce, a lie wrapped up in a fairy tale. You weren’t happy. How could you be happy when your whole world decided to break your heart?

“Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up, John. I mean it.”

Silence. You could hear the quiet bustle of Liverpool outside your window, the street lamp’s warm light hidden by your dark curtains. Curtains he used to move at this time of night to open your window, he would burn the end of his cigar and watch the city lights.

Now, he stood outside your front door, without even a knock.

“What I did to you wasn’t right, I knew that then and I know that now. Screaming at you and telling you I never wanted to see you again was the biggest mistake of my life. I love you. And love isn’t supposed to be like that. I-I was… I was scared. I am scared. I’m scared of what you think of me, I was scared of what almost happened to me, I’m terrified to lose you.”

“Stop.”

“Please. I’m here.”

“What do you want, John?”

“I want come home.“

Another pause.

“Please let me in.”

Your stomach lurched.

You hated that you sat up, lethargic body dragged behind your mind as you silently made your way to your front door; cold phone pressed to your ear. He was a warm light, you were like a late night moth - hearing the familiar hum of one John Price.

“I’ll do anything, love. Please.”

You stretched your arms as you stood on your tallest tip toes, it reminded you of spinning on your highest heels, just for him. You could remember his hands, gentle on your hand and waist as he had laughed deeply in that ballroom all those years ago. The way his touch never differed from anything gentle or soft, even as he held your hips in late nights, pulling loud moans and cries from you as he fucked you passionately. The way he whispered your name like gospel as you sobbed into his chest. It was impossible to forget what he’s done for you - and what actions he made that caused you pain.

He was made of a broken spotlight, his light reflected on you. Your mirror pieces had fell long ago, your fingers still bleed from picking up your shards, from pressing them into place so when he came around, you would reflect his slowly dimming light just like a mirror ball.

Your hand pulled open the door, gazing at the man you so painstakingly loved - face dirty, scarf disheveled around his neck, beanie snug on his head. You didn’t care that his rough hands gripped your hips, metaphorically pressing in the glass shards like always. He pulled you to him, your face landed in his scarf as he wrapped you in his freezing embrace. You moved to rest your chin on top of the scratchy wool, your lips right next to his ear.

“Are you hurt?”

He walked both of you into the apartment, skillfully kicking the door closed as he held you tighter. A fist on your lower back, a steel grip on your shoulder as his nose was firmly pressed into your (bonnet/hair). You could feel his chest, how it didn’t dare expand - he was holding his breath. As if he let you slip, that the mirrorball he adored would shatter into a thousand pieces. Your hand pushed into the back of his ribcage, moving in soothing circles.

“Breathe, John.”

You expected a harsh exhale, something loud in your ear, but all you received was a soft sigh through his nose. The freezing clothes that clung to him began to warm, his heartbeat erratic - you could feel it in his back, right behind his heart.

“Are you hurt?” You asked again.

He didn’t answer, silence was his weapon of choice now. He was full of words on the phone, telling you things you wished to hear earlier - oh shit, your phone. The phone you dropped on the floor before opening the door, hopefully it wasn’t broken. You had so many of him on there. So many photos of him hanging off your arm, lips pressed against your soft skin, eyes gazing lovingly at you.

“What do you need?”

You need me. I know you like the back of my hand.

That’s when he let go, pulling away from you to show fresh tears on his flushed face. Your eyes widened with concern, you tried to reach his face but his hands intercepted yours - holding them with a firm grip.

“I don’t need you to forgive me.” His voice was melancholy, a melody of grief and fear that you had never heard before. “I am an awful man. Rubbish. I hurt the one good thing in my life because I thought you hating me would be easier for me to die with.”

Your stomach coiled up into a knot, tight and uncomfortable.

Your fiancé held back a sob as he spoke, “I got hit. I almost died, all I could think about was how much you would hate yourself because I made you hate me. I don’t want that. I want to be by your side forever, I want you to put me in my place, I want you to take everything from me because I am not worthy of anything without you.” His hands squeezed yours. “I want to lay beside you for as long as I live. I want to only know you for the rest of my life. I want to do everything you ask of me.”

“What do you need, John?” Your voice softer than ever before.

He blinked away tears. “I need you to teach me how to truly be a better man. I need you to guide me. I need you to love me. I need you.”

You had told yourself a thousand times that he would never crawl on his knees to you, that his pride would destroy you, that he would never show weakness to you - but here he was. Showing his belly, giving you the chance to deliver the final blow.

You supposed he was waiting for it. Waiting for your teeth to sink in and rip him apart like a chew toy, scream at him until your voice ran hoarse, push him away until he fell onto his ass. But… you couldn’t. You were ready to walk away from him ten minutes ago, but now it’s… terrifying. Walking away from the one thing keeping you whole.

You squeezed his hands. “Marry me, John Price.”

His eyebrows furrowed, he was about to question you. But you spoke again. “Marry me today and show me that all that you said was a promise.”

He didn’t nod for long as he let go of your hands, grabbed your face and kissed you - pushing your head backwards as he pressed his entire body to you. You didn’t care anymore if he cut himself on your glass, you were sure he would fix the edge just to keep you happy.

Keep you spinning like his favorite mirrorball, shining just for him.

#lethalchiralium #keri writes #call of duty #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price x f!reader #captain price #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain price x f!reader #captain john price x female reader #captain john price x f!reader

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vintagestarlight · 5 months

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Massage

Summary: You give Price a massage after he gets back from a particularly hard deployment.

Pairing: John Price x fiancée!reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mentions of injury(nothing too graphic), light sexual mentions, John Price(because let's be honest this man is a warning okay), fluff, 18+ MDNI

A/N: So Price won by a landslide in the poll😂 here's one of the fics I had planned so I hope yall enjoy! I did right this pretty drunk so apologies if it isn't great

Also, I didn't expect so many people to vote so thank you all so much!😭🫶🏼 Requets are also open!! Feel free to send in whatever you want just make sure it follows my blog rules! I've also got a few more fics in my drafts as well :)

***beware of typos(I tried my best to catch them all)

John turned the ignition off and his truck came to a stop. He looked at the house the two of you shared and smiled as he took in the warm glow coming from the window. Before you came into his life the house was cold and dark; he preferred coming home to this rather than the dark windows he used to. John opened the door and stepped out, wincing as he irritated the bruised muscles. This last deployment was harder than most; although everyone made it back alive, and for that he was thankful, going hand-to-hand with a mercenary ended with the mercenary dead but John fell from a metal walkway grate to the ground below. It resulted in a number of bruises, scratches, and a sprained shoulder.

John lifted his duffle bag out of the back seat and thought about how you would fret over the bruises that blemished his skin. You always checked him when he came home to see if he gained any new scars or broken body parts and he found it endearing. He walked slowly toward the door, his sore body preventing him from going faster. He dug in his pocket for his key and slipped it into the lock before stepping inside. “Love I’m home,” He called out, setting his duffle bag down by the door with a sigh of relief to have the weight off of his injured shoulder; he had a brace that kept him from moving his shoulder but it did nothing for the annoying pain of putting weight on it.

“Back here!” He heard your voice coming from the shared bedroom so he toed off his boots and walked down the hallway. He saw soft light coming from the bathroom and when he walked in he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. You were in the bathtub with your hair loosely pulled back and sipping on a glass of wine, candles casting a warm illuminating glow. It wasn't anything overly sexual but it still made his face flush; here he was nearing forty and you made him feel like a school boy. “Hey love,” he said, taking in the sight of you before bending down and giving you a kiss. “I’m so glad you’re home,” You said, a heavy weight finally lifting off your chest at seeing your fiancée back in one piece. The black brace over his beige shirt was not lost on you but you didn’t say anything as you decided it was not as bad as it could be. “How’s the bath?” John asked. “You could always join me and find out,” You said, taking a sip of the red wine, looking at him over the rim of the glass. “Now how could I say no to that?” He smirked.

He took off the brace that was nothing but uncomfortable before undoing his belt and stripping off his pants. He slipped off his shirt, wincing as his shoulder twinged, and heard you gasp. “John!” You did your once over to ensure he hadn’t come home severely injured when your eyes landed on the bruises that colored his torso. “What the hell happened?” You asked, wincing when you thought about what could’ve caused such bruises. “If I told you that love, you’d be even more frantic,” He chuckled. “Don’t laugh John!” You chastised. John slipped in behind you after stripping completely, groaning at the warm water, and let you rest against him. “I’m sorry love but don’t freak out too much,” He replied. “They really do look worse than they are,” He added, planting a kiss on your head. He felt you relax more, as if you were afraid of hurting him, and he sighed. The weight of you pressed against him was actually comforting and he wrapped his arms around you. “At least you came home to me alive,” You said. “Just like I promised,” John replied, a long sigh leaving his body.

The two of you just sat there for a little while, your thumb absentmindedly grazing John’s arm; grateful to have your fiancée back. You felt him rest his head on your shoulder and his weary body sagged as he relaxed. You shifted and accidentally pressed your weight on one of John’s bruises and he grunted. “I’m sorry babe!” You said, turning around to sit on his lap carefully trying to avoid the purple-ish tender spots. “Don’t worry I’m tougher than I look,” He joked, running his hands along your sides. “You know,” You started, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think I know of a way to make you feel better,” You said in a slow voice. “Oh yeah? I think I’m liking where this is going,” John replied, planting a kiss on your nose, then your cheeks, and finally your lips. ‘Hmm… I like the way you think but I was actually thinking about a massage,” You said. “Help those aching muscles,” You offered and smiled as he smirked. “Now that’s a good way to welcome a man home,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Why don’t you go lay on the bed and I’ll dry off and get the oil,” You suggested and stepped out of the tub.

You felt John’s hungry eyes on you and you grinned; John always made you feel desirable even on your worst day. You heard the water splash as John stepped out after pulling the plug, dripping water on the floor. You wrapped yourself in a towel and felt him swat your ass, eliciting a squeal out of you as he laughed. “Don’t take too long,” He said. John also grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself, being mindful of his injuries, and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. You emerged from the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil and saw John lounging on the bed, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched your towel clad body. “See something you like?” You teased, before dropping the towel leaving you stark naked and John groaned. “I think you should stay like this all the time,” He said, a bit disappointed when you pulled on a bra and panty set. “I suggest you settle down; you’re not exactly in peak condition for sex,” You chuckled. “Come on turn over,” You said, and waited until he was laying on his stomach, arms relaxed.

You got on top of him and straddled his hips, taking notice of the scratches on his back. There were several silver lines across his body from his several years of military service. You had counted every scar on his body countless times so you could always know when he got new ones. But these scratches were new; red and fresh in contrast to the silver healed scars. You squirted a quarter sized amount of baby oil on your hands, rubbed them together, and pressed your hands firmly on John’s back. Using light pressure you began to knead his shoulders, mindful not to press too hard on his injured one, and firmly moved down to his lower back. “Jesus love,” John groaned. John felt himself further relax as you helped ease his aching muscles. You used your thumbs to press into his lower back and rub in small circles before continuing those small circles all the way up his back to his neck.

You loved feeling his skin underneath your hands; the way his muscles rippled when you touched him and it made you feel good that you were able to give him this attention. You heard grunts and moans as you continued to work on his back and shoulders, slowly massaging away the tension that rested in his muscles. You felt your tough military husband become putty under your hands and you couldn't help but grin. “You know I was thinking,” you said, feeling him tense as you needed a particularly large knot at the base of his neck. “What's that love?” He grunted, his voice slurring slightly as your hands slowly lulled him closer to sleep. “I know we had plans to go to that new French place for dinner but maybe we could stay in tomorrow?” You suggested to him. “Maybe just stay in bed and order takeout,” you continued, applying a little more oil onto your hands and rubbing your hands down his arms as he lazily nodded his head. “Would you like that?” You asked. When you didn’t get a response you looked down at his languid form and realized his breathing had become deeper and he started to snore a little. You smiled and slowly got off his back, careful not to wake him, and pulled the covers over him. “Good night John,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek and turning off the lamp before climbing in bed next to him. You soon fell asleep and slept better than you had in months.

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Hello hello! I got super happy once i saw your requests open again <3 i love your writing and i would love to see Price and a reader who is too recluse and uptight, cold and distanced. He somehow noticed she likes him and stuff and it turns into what you write best, something hot and more. Basically Price shaking some sense into her, breaking her down? I don’t know if this is too much detail and I don’t know if it gives any ideas. Feel free to ignore. Love you, have a best day 🧡

Thanks so much for the ask! This is really unique, and I like the concept. I'll do my best! <3 <3

TW: female reader, afab, cunnilingus

Price scanned the meeting room as his teams filed in. The 141's operations had grown, now that Shepherd was out of the way, and new recruits with a lot of promise had come in to aid in the operations. Gaz, Ghost, and Soap sat up front, reports prepped and ready to be handed out, the logistics team sat around Alex and Farah, and sometimes, when she wasn't out doing the dirty work, Laswell would hang around the back corner, arms crossed, watching the meeting unfold. But, he was waiting for you.

You were the newest addition. Your specialty with data analysis and reporting had meant a stream of fresh, sparkling intel that was immediately actionable and nearly allowed him to predict the enemy's movements. You were a magician, and you never talked over anyone's head. Very professional, but kind. Beautiful, even though you were not a fresh-faced youth.

You also had a body that would not let him rest. He'd taken more cold showers in the past two weeks than he ever took as a teenager, and his cock was in his hand, hard and drooling, hungry to bury itself between your thick thighs.

He tried not to stare, really, he did. But, you would wear those cargo pants, belted to your waist, and he could see where your generous ass stretched the tight canvas. The way your hips swayed when you walked across the base with your data-tablet made him want to fight someone for you, even though, as far as he could tell, there was no competition in sight.

That was part of the problem. You kept everyone at arm's reach. Well, that was about to change.

Price started the meeting and tried not to keep glancing back to you in your seat. You were listening diligently, doing your job, and he felt downright lecherous at what he was about to do...

"...and so we'll be pairing off for a full facility inventory."

Groans resonated throughout the team. Complaints flooded in.

"Check the board for your partner and meet in Hanger 3. We'll start in the back storage."

"Back storage! Cap'n, unless you're lookin' for flip phones and manuals from 2007, there's nothin' we need in there," Soap protested.

"Well, Sergeant," Price grinned, "We're about to find out. Spring cleaning!"

He felt someone's presence behind him, and when he turned, he was delighted to find you there, shifting from foot to foot, waiting to be heard.

"Yes, Corporal? Do you need something? Going to whinge about the inventory as well?" He joked with you.

"N-no. No, sir. I just... I checked the board, and you are my partner, sir."

Your eyes were wide and bright. You were staring up at him and clutching that data-tablet to your chest like a shield.

He threw an arm around your shoulder and walked with you side-by-side,

"I'm just pullin' your leg, Corporal. Let's get to it."

As you worked together, the ever-observant John Price noticed a few things. First, you would stare at him when you thought he wasn't looking. Second, you would move to the opposite side of the room to work if he decided to relocate. And third, you had a bad habit of chewing on your bottom lip when you got nervous.

"You'd be no good at poker, Corporal," he commented, stacking a set of boxes near you.

"What, sir?" You looked up at him, biting that poor, innocent lip again.

"That bottom lip gives you away," you fixed it as soon as he said it, but he forced you to sit with him and asked you, "Hey, what's going on? You're doing a great job here, but I can't help but feel like you're not keen on being a part of this team."

You shook your head, sighing,

"No, sir. It's not that. I love this team... I just..."

"Just what, Corporal? We're not leaving this storage crate until you tell me. You have a crush on one of my soldiers, or what?"

Fear, now. He could see it all over your face. He reached out tentatively and put a hand on your knee,

"Hey," he dropped his voice to a dark whisper, "It's alright. I won't tell anyone."

Your voice was so small when you answered him, but gods you were brave for answering him,

"Sir... it's you who I shouldn't tell."

Price's breath caught in his chest. All this nervous energy, all this seriousness... for him? You were nervous to be around him?

"Corporal..." He was stunned.

You stood up, quick as a flash,

"I'm sorry, sir. Please forget I said anything."

You were backing away towards the door, looking like you were ready to bolt, but he reached out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

"Me?" He stood above you, his body looming, covering you in the small storage room. It felt like it was getting smaller by the second.

You swallowed, nodding,

"Yes, sir..."

Price reached behind you and popped the metal lock into place, sealing you in,

"Mmm... Corporal, if you only knew how long I've been prayin' you'd say that to me."

"Wh-what? Really? Captain, I didn't --"

He put his thumb on your chin, pulling the skin so that your bottom lip would be freed from your teeth, and he bent to suck it into his mouth. He wasn't kissing you so much as he was working your full, lower lip, slowly and gently, taking it between his own lips and tongue, making you catch your breath.

"In here... I'm not your captain," he smiled, kissing you fully now, "And when I'm not your captain... you give the orders. We can stop, if you want to stop."

He let the news register, showing you how true it was, backing away a bit, giving you room to say no. Price watched your face as the information sank in. It was understood, analyzed, and filed appropriately in that beautiful brain of yours, and then, the results.

You set your tablet down on the boxes and took off your shirt. He still hadn't touched you, happy to let you drive. You pulled his face to yours, placing your hands on his furry cheeks, petting his hair and knocking off his hat until it hung around his neck on its string, almost letting him kiss you, but just before he could, you whispered into his open, gaping mouth,

"I don't wanna stop."

He kissed you, then. So softly it was almost chaste. He matched your energy. If you explored him with your tongue, he explored you just as far. If you spent time kissing his jaw and neck, so did he. After a few minutes of such restrained torture, though, he was breathing heavy, and his body was begging for more.

His hands rubbed across the tight muscles of your neck and down your arms before finally discovering your heavy breasts. He let them fill his warm palms, plucking softly at your nipples and making them harden beneath his fingers.

Price spoke to you as he kissed you, as he fondled you into pliant submission,

"Do you wanna stop, love?"

You shook your head, whispering back,

"I don't want to stop..."

He bent himself like the bough of a great tree, leaning to suck your sensitive nipple into his mouth. Price warmed it with his tongue, and put it between his teeth just enough to make you writhe. Then, he slid a huge hand between your legs and felt the heat you were hiding from him there. He sighed raggedly when he found it, like he had just dropped the weight of the world from his arms.

John pressed the canvas of your pants up into the spot where your folds would part, rubbing the seam against your center, making it shove your clit back and forth along its line, making it swell and tingle. You writhed beneath his teasing, moaning from it.

"Mmm. Do'ya wanna stop, love?"

"No, fuck, no. Don't stop."

He forced open your buckle with a swift pull, snapping the metal tines and popping open your button fly. Tucking his fist into the elastic of your panties, his fingers found their soft, wet prize.

The captain sighed again, that same ragged relief, and just before he opened his mouth to speak to you again, you clasped your hand over it furiously, and warned him,

"Don't you dare fucking stop."

He chuckled, but he said nothing as he sank to his knees, looping one of your legs over his shoulder as he began to eat from your body, hungry and thirsty and needy and ready to be full of you, smearing you all over his beard, smiling all the time.

If you liked this story, please consider buying a coffee for your favorite feral cat <3 Comments, reblogs, and kudos are also appreciated!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x you #captain price x female reader #captain price x f!reader

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amourlyns · 1 year

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‧ 🧟🪦💀

[ CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE ]

+ FEM!READER

𝓢𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ⌕ John would always take care of you, forever

and always. (Even when you’re babbling nonsense)

𝓜𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒𝗇𝖾 𝓣𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗌 ━━ Inspired by Rihanna’s “Higher” ➜ Masterlist

𝓦𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ━━ Mentions of alcohol and nudity, reader is drunk

⠀ | JOHN ALREADY KNEW HOW THIS WAS going to end. You always got rowdy when you drank, and he’d always let you indulge in the waxing vices of alcohol. So he would watch you from the distance, like a hawk. You could practically feel him burning holes into your cranium the whole night.

Whenever you got too drunk, too giggly and too whiny. He’d sweep you up, taking you in by the waist and excusing whoever you were talking to moments before his arrival. Tonight, it was Simon and Johnny. They seemed amused by your current state, rambling on about poetic lines and how lovely John Price is.

The walk to john’s room isn’t a quiet one, you stumble about like a muppet, John holds onto your waist. Instinctively, you hold onto his neck wrapping your legs around his torso. This was a funny routine between the two of you, his hands would remove your heels with ease and you’d fall asleep in his arms.

He opens the door with one hand, the other remained on your waist with a solid grip. You jolt, waking up. A sigh escapes Price’s lips, he knew how you got when you were tired and drunk.. you started saying nonsense. ❪ Nonsense he loved ❫

❛ Johnny! baby, my love. That whisky was so good— got me feelin’ soooo, pretty… heh! Pardon me if i’m impolite but I need your ass with me. ❜ You would call and beckon to your husband waiting for him to cave in and yield. Hand would open and close in grabby motions, and he would chuckle lowly. ❛ Pour me up a drink handsome. ❜

When he nodded you squealed a bit, the noise would come to a halt at the sight of Price filling up a cup of water. He tells you that this would be your drink of choice, and how you’d 〞 thank him later. 〞

You deny it, but you seriously would thank him in the morning. Calloused digits would touch your skin, removing your shirt and pants for the night. John would discard them on the table and get you comfier clothing. Once you’re stripped down he removes your bra and underwear, telling you to shower.

And, when you beg him to join you he does, washing away at your skin quietly, you’d hum in delight at each touch. Smiling at the mere sight of John. How did you get a man like him? seriously, you were a lucky woman. When he’s washing you off he helps you with applying lotion onto your heated skin, hands would skim over the curves of your hips and the ridges of your rib cage.

After he finished, he would apply your favorite perfume and put on your pajamas for you. This was a routine between the two of you, and you loved him for it, he’d come to bed at your beckon and call with delight. Inhaling your perfume and holding you tenderly.

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squishycheekanon · 27 days

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Another sweet sweet price thot💋

Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.

He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.

He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.

But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.

Until he met you of course.

It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.

My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.

He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.

Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.

He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.

John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.

He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.

After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.

The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.

John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.

You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

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yawnderu · 6 months

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Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

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celestialwhoree · 1 month

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Just going to leave this here and then sneak away! K bye! 🎀🩰

John Price is a man who runs on instinct. After years in the forces, he has to be. He's learned that the feeling in his gut is almost never wrong, and learning how to trust it is a skill. Right now though? He's wishing that his stomach would stop roiling. He's so anxious he feels like he might actually be sick. Kyle sits earnestly at his side, hunched over in the plastic hospital chair nursing a long gone flat vending machine Coke.

They've been tuning out your screams for a good three hours now.

Something within John breaks with every guttural cry that sounds from under the doorway. He's heard so many countless screams of agony from faceless people. They've been and gone in his head like a passing storm. Yours, he thinks, will stick for a lifetime.

Realistically, he knows that you're safe. Receiving the best care you possibly can, safe within the walls of the modern private hospital his insurance more than covers. He also can't help but remind himself just how complicated giving birth can be - and you're so delicate to him.

He's not actually sure when Kyle got here, having been running on autopilot since your contractions started yesterday. All the boys love you just as much as you do them, and when he'd messaged their shared group with a simple: > On way to hospital now. they'd been so shit scared.

Each one of them had opted to take up shifts staying beside their captain in the hospital, waiting earnestly for if they were at all needed. Johnny had picked up groceries, claiming that he' d best know what to get for a new mum, seeing as he's the only one besides Price who actually has sisters, and a niece of his own. None of them would ever admit that they also wanted to be the first to see little baby Price, and to check in on his wife who'm they'd grown to love so much, but there'd definitely been attempts on all three sides to work out when the baby would approximately pop, so that they could time their stint accordingly.

"Think she's okay in there?" John croaks, lifting his head from his palms, squinting at the fluorescent hall lights with a tired grunt.

Kyle swallows the sip of Coke in his mouth before responding. "She's a trooper. I think if anyone can handle having a baby, it's your missus."

Hours later, your small hospital room falls silent, and John is immediately up on his feet, back ramrod straight, everything alert. And then, a baby cries. It's a little hiccuping whinge at first, but then his baby seems to find their voice, wailing up a storm.

"You should go. See them." Kyle prompts quietly, noticing his captain's reverie as he just stands there staring at the closed door.

Nurses file out one by one, whilst he makes his way in, a dazed sort of look on his face as he sees the swaddles blanket you hold close to your chest, gurgling softly as tiny fat fists reach out to your nose.

The stillness in the room is like time stops entirely, only finally broken by a soft "Hey." as your husband makes his way quietly to your side.

"Hi." You breathe, a soft smile blossoming on your tired face, scooting along in the hospital bed so he can sit beside you.

The reverence on his face as he looks down towards the face of such a small creature is a look only talked about in fairytales. A look that tells you that your baby is the luckiest child in the world to have a dad like John.

"She's a girl." You laugh softly, noticing the look on John's face, the one that says he's holding his tongue.

"Oh, my baby girl." Tears spring to his cerulean eyes as he brushes a gentle finger down the soft slope of her tiny nose.

For a moment, the two - three - of you sit in total stillness, entirely enraptured by the tiny human you currently keep held so closely to your chest. Until there's a quiet, tentative knock on the door.

"Mrs Price? Can we come in?" Kyle's voice comes softly from the other side, but before you can even finish your "Yes" not just Kyle, but also Simon and Johnny are practically barrelling into the room, barely able to contain their intrigue as they lock eyes with the little blanket wrapped parcel they've been waiting nine months to meet.

The minute you invite them to look at the sleeping face of your daughter, they're practically tripping over themselves to see the much anticipated baby Price.

"Looks jus' like her mam." Johnny observes, whilst Simon just stares, and Kyle busies himself with taking a picture of you, John and your baby girl.

"Bought 'er a present, mrs Price." Simon admits a little sheepishly as he pulls a haphazardly wrapped parcel from his coat pocket. A stuffed ghost teddy only just the size of your fist. "To remind 'er that uncle ghost is always looking out for her."

You're practically crying at the thought behind his gift, carefully side-hugging the lieutenant with the arm that's not holding your daughter.

"We're all here for her. And for you. Always. One for one and that."

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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

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Kitchen Quickies (1 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, breeding kink, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, established relationship, married couple

Word Count: 948

A/N: part of the Imagines & What If series

So what that you already have two kids? John wants to make a third.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // kitchen quickies masterlist

The early morning sun filters through the kitchen window and illuminates the sink full of soapy water. Reaching in, you remove the drain plug. The water begins to recede, and you flip on the faucet, rinsing off the plug, clearing it of soap suds. Sighing, you place it on the edge of the sink near the window.

Without looking, you reach for a dish towel, glancing out the window as your two children play in the yard. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, but then it turns downward as your hands only find counter and not the towel.

Frowning, you turn to the left and immediately laugh.

“Give me that,” you chide, snatching the dish towel from John’s grip.

As you dry your hands, John steps into your space, his hands falling to your hips. “Good morning,” he croons, those large fingers of his curling around the bone to pull you flush against him.

“John,” you breathe, a little surprised. “The kids are outside.” Through his sweatpants, you feel the hard outline of him.

“Good,” he murmurs, his head dipping towards you.

When his lips touch yours, you smile against them, and then squeal as John twists you around to press you against the counter. John’s hand slides over your hip and beneath the oversized t-shirt. It’s one of his old shirts he always worked out in. You wear them all the time because they smell of him, and his scent brings you comfort when he’s away for work.

John’s fingers find the edge of your cotton underwear. He pulls them to the side, revealing you to him. His mouth presses against your throat at the same moment his fingers slide over your sex and begin to play with your clit.

Your hips jerk backward, as if trying to pull away from his teasing hand. But you only end up rubbing your ass against his cock. One of his fingers slides lower and circles your entrance.

“You’re fucking wet, love,” groans John against your throat.

“You do this to me. You know that, John.”

His grip on your hip intensifies. John is always insatiable when it comes to you. He releases your hip to push up on the shirt, pressing on your lower back, bending you forward slightly over the counter. The position is a little uncomfortable, and you have to shift onto your toes to match what John is asking for.

Then his hands are on your hips again, shifting them up to give him easier access.

“We’ve been talking about having another. I think we should start trying.”

“John—fuck,” you groan as the head of his cock starts to push in.

“Right. Fucking. Now,” groans John, lightly thrusting into you with each word. He rolls his hips, and another inch slides in. You both moan, and he turns his face into your neck, breathing in your scent.

“Do you want that? You want me to breed you?” John’s presses his hand against your stomach and you whimper. “Hm? I need an answer, love.”

Rarely do you ever say no to John, and in this, you won’t ever say no. You love him. He is your oxygen and your anchor. You’ll give him everything he asks for without question.

“Fuck me, John. Please.” Your voice breaks on please. The groan that he makes goes straight to your pussy.

He slides in further until he bottoms out. He holds himself there for a moment with one hand between your legs to play with your clit while the other rests on your lower back. Against your throat, John’s lips mark a line from the curve of your shoulder to your jaw.

“Hold on to the counter,” he murmurs into your ear.

The moment your hands find the counter, John retreats, slowly sliding from your warmth before he thrusts forward again. Hips meet hips in rapid succession. His strength behind each thrust pushes you against the side of the counter, the edge scratching at the spot it makes contact with.

You might have some marks there afterward but you don’t care. John’s cock is too good, and his fingers swirls around your clit in perfectly slow movements that have you fluttering around him. He’s an expert with your body. He knows every sensitive spot, and every move to help you find your end before he does.

Every thrust of his hips is a desperate one, and it is so different from how his fingers play with your clit. They are opponents and yet effortlessly working in tandem until you squeeze around him, causing his hips to stutter and faulter.

John’s breathing is ragged when he speaks. “Fuck,” he moans. “Fuck.”

Another swirl of his finger sends you into a shiver, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out.

John thrusts a few more times, and then he’s holding you flush against him, his face buried against your throat. The rush of his release floods your womb, and he doesn’t pull away until he’s emptied himself. The moment his cock slips free, John presses his palm against your pussy, keeping his cum from leaking out of you.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmurs against your neck. You twist into him and wrap your arm around the back of neck, kissing him with all your love behind it.

“Think we made that third?” you tease.

John grins against your lips. “Not sure. We’ll have to do it again tonight after the kids have gone to bed. Maybe the next night too. And the next—”

You playful smack his arm and John adjusts your underwear back into place before lightly smacking your ass.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado

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reveluving · 5 months

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morning, mrs price ; john price x reader

summary: mornings are better with john.

warnings: implied s~mut (minors DNI!), loads of fluff & kisses!

a/n: unplanned. domesticity today is cranked up by a 100 because I woke up on the GOOD side of the bed today, and I hope you will too! please enjoy & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» curious about my writing? come & check out my COD m.list!

☕️ price melting when you come up from behind as he reads the newspaper in the dining room, feeling your hands lightly massaging his shoulders before leaving a few kisses on his temple and cheek, followed by a warm and tired, "g'morning."

☕️ he loves it when you're extra lovey-dovey—when you nuzzle your cheek against his, hearing your soft laugh as his beard tickles and almost prickles against your face.

☕️ he loves it when you hook your chin over his shoulder, asking if there was anything interesting in the paper he was reading. there's likely nothing worth noting half the time, but for you, he'd flip through a few, just to hear your cute "oh!" or if it so happens to be a funny one, being the one to share laugh with you.

☕️ + turning his head to the side to kiss your cheek!

☕️ him casually dragging a chair closer to him with one hand (those arms!), your hot drink of choice (likely prepared by him when he knows you're about to wake up) already next to his own mug to start the day off well together!

☕️ putting the newspaper aside as you sit next to him, talking about whatever with one of his hands on your thigh. it can be innocent, it can be naughty, but chances are, you're never going to leave the dining room right away.

☕️ him trailing his fingers over the visible bite marks on your thighs, his eyes crinkling shamelessly, because how could he forget when the two of you were 'fooling around' last night?

☕️ him purposely jiggling the plush of your thigh and leaning in, complimenting your obedience from last night and whispering how it wouldn't be the last time leaving such marks on you, as if he hasn't done so countless of times.

☕️ price letting out a hearty laugh when you lightly shove him for his teasing, then to ensure you don't pass out of embarrassment, by the way your body was growing hot, he asks what you'd want for breakfast.

☕️ want to try and make a recipe you found on the internet? he's ready to help you, or, if you want to spoil him by making it on your own while telling him to just 'sit there and look handsome', he'll be the most good-looking husband for you.

☕️ hell, he'll flex his muscles for you if you want.

☕️ want to try out that diner you saw the other day? give him a few minutes to finish his coffee then change, and he'll drive you there!

☕️ but shit, if you said you wanted him for breakfast right then and there, then don't be surprised if he spreads his legs without question 💗

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: okay AND because I read the ask I sent to @bubuslutty as SOON as I woke up... so... <3 ;; anyway! gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

#— reve's reverie 🌹#reveluving #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x f!reader #john price x f!reader #cod captain price #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

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Mafia!141 Masterlist

a place for me to put all my mafia!141 related fics so i don't bog down my regular masterlist!

Series:

In Limbo: (Ghost) is it wrong to fall in love while waiting to die?

Price x wife!Reader:

he likes showing you off

when his meetings go wrong...

treating him

proposal and baby talk

john "that's my fuckin' wife" price

how you two fall in love

you're jealous

you're drunk and jealous

taking care of you after you have a kid

your first time

you're insecure

you don't think you're a good mum

Ghost x shy!Reader:

you meet him for the first time

you're at Price's club

headcanons

everyone's watching

he learns you're a virgin

you're drunk

you wanna suck his dick

he helps you feel confident

he helps you feel confident again

you want a baby

he wants you to ride him

more confidence again

he helps you masturbate

guard dog

Soap x nurse!Reader:

how you two meet

you're grumpy after work

no touching

how you two really meet

Gaz x mafia!Reader:

you're a proper pain in the ass

you need a place to stay

Other:

Leftovers [1]: Mr. and Mrs. Price don't know how to take care of you properly. Simon is hellbent on saving you, no matter the means.

Leftovers [2]: you're his, now

Leftovers [3]: you love him

the boys are drunk

you can find any small comments and other anon asks by searching #mafia!141 in my blog!

#mafia!price #mafia!141 #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain price #cod smut #john price smut #captain price smut #price smut #mafia!ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #f!reader

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

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soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

-

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

-

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

--

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john price x f reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain price

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faith369 · 3 months

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Just imagine calling Price daddy as a joke but it kinda backfires

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!reader

Warnings: p in v, mdni, nsfw, condescending (slight), daddy kink

Price, who glared your way the second he heard you calling him daddy, shaking his head slightly but writing it off as a one time joke, while trying to ignore the twitching inside his pants. He is however quick to realize that it is not a one time event and has to take a deep breath as you walk around with a grin plastered on your face every time you use his now least favorite nickname. He isnt even that old.

Price, who walks around with a raging boner in his pants while on base, thinking about you moaning the word he dismays so much, while stuffing your pussy.

Price, who gets fed up and bends you over the counter after you use the nickname again. Grinding his clothed bulge against your dripping cunt after he pulled down your pants. His voice sounds gruff behind you.

"Not as confident now, huh? My poor baby can't even talk anymore. Hmm, don't worry, daddy's going to take care of you"

You whine, wanting more friction, and John eagerly gives in, freeing his leaking cock from his jeans ramming it into your tight heat while his hands slip under your shirt, groping your breasts.

"Come on, be good say it again; then I'll help you."

The second he hears the word out of your mouth, he starts pounding into you, drawing moans from you. He ignores any pleas to slow down out of overstimulation and instead lets one of his hands move to your clit, making you clench around him.

Price, who pulls out, not letting you reach your orgasm, leaves your aching cunt empty except for his cum.

"Stop whining, that's what happens when you're a naughty girl"

A/N: Im bacccckkk big sorry for nor writing I was kinda in a slump anyways requests are open and happy to be answered <333

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ghouljams · 4 months

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Regency AU with Price (as always the gif does not represent the reader, only the vibe)

Tags: first meetings, social faux pas, love at first sight, British imperialism mention, classism, a little period typical misogyny, Price keep your hands to yourself please

You've never deluded yourself into thinking you're marriage material, never concerned yourself with your lack of marriage prospects. The child of a doctor with no title to his name, and a midwife with even less. You're in good standing, but you know well enough that among the delicate fingers of the noble ladies, you're a sore thumb.

A captain is certainly out of reach for someone like you. You don't mind, of course, you're perfectly content to remain single and eventually take over your father's practice. Still, you do look up with the rest of the crowd when the announcement is made. Captain John Price. He's young. Too young to have made such a commission, but his eyes are old and the stern set of his brow, the tight lipped smile, speak to a man who has seen more in his short life than most men will by 80. His eyes meet yours and you look away, snap your fan open to distract yourself from the boiling heat of the greenhouse the party is being held in. That must be what makes your skin prickle.

You bemoan the fact that your friends have lost all interest in conversation in favor of tittering over the new arrival.

"Fresh from the colonies, I hear," one of your friends whispers, "he hasn't been home in a good few years."

"I heard he's going to be made a baron," your other friend whispers back.

"I hear he's rot his dick clean off from scurvy," you grumble.

"Did you now?" A voice rumbles with amusement behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief second and curse yourself before plastering on a smile and turning to face the man of the hour. You flutter your fan in front of your face and hope it looks more demure than your mouth would suggest.

He's better looking up close. His eyes sparkle, and his smile seems less forced, more open. It's the hint of teeth that break up his lips, different from the tightness he'd given upon announcement. You curtsey, as is proper when meet a man above your station, which is just about every man here. Money can buy you an invitation but not the good will other women may have.

"Captain," you have no follow up for that, so you attempt to mean it as a greeting, "I meant no harm."

His fingers tighten around yours when you try to pull them away, but he does straighten up, apparently unbothered by the surrounding crowd's murmurs. He must have hit his head and been sent home due to madness. You're sure that's the only explanation for the heat in his eyes and the smirk on his lips. A man who's lived a life of violence and still holds himself so tall shouldn't bow his head to you.

"Of course not," he holds his hand out, and like a fool you place your fingers against his. He doesn't raise your hand to his lips like so many other men, he bows to it. Bows to meet your knuckles with his lips. Bows with his arm tight behind his back and his eyes lowered. As if you were the queen, and not some doctor's daughter. Your face bursts with heat and you glance around to be sure there aren't any eyes on you.

"Please don't do that," you tell him quietly, whispering it furtively to try and stem the murmurs. His grip on your hand shifts, drops your fingers to hold your wrist.

"Perhaps you'd prefer something else?" He pulls your arm up, turns your hand over to press his lips against the thrumming pulse in your wrist, his gaze holds yours all the while. Your stomach flips pleasantly. The tips of your fingers brush against his dark hair, and you imagine you can feel it through your gloves. "A dance? Or an apology?" He kisses further past your wrist, pulling you closer, "Or perhaps I should be asking for one from you." Another kiss, just below the bend of your elbow.

Was there a crowd? You can't imagine there's anything but you and the captain? No one in the world but the two of you standing in front of each other as his lips skate the top edge of your glove. The feeling of his skin against yours is like touching the inside of an oven, a short shock that makes you want to pull away, a heat that lingers long after the touch is gone. Have you ever wanted to put your hand in a fire so badly?

"Would you like me to apologize?" You ask him, pushing your voice out even past the breathless bubble in your chest. He closes his eyes, tips his head to run his nose against your skin with a sigh.

"Never."

It's so simple a word and yet it drops like a heavy weight into your stomach. It roots you, binds you, when his hand touches the small of your back to pull you closer you go without a second thought. Spellbound.

"God," he breathes, "I'd have come home sooner if I knew you were waitin' for me."

"You don't even know me," You smile, feeling like you've been let in on a joke only the two of you know.

"Oh sweetheart," something in his voice is cloying sweet, something in his eyes -so stormy blue you'd think he bottled the ocean tides just to see through their colored glass- that speaks to a promise you never hoped for, "I've got a lifetime to learn."

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