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scarletevening · 9 months

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knock knock [ john price ]

theres been too much price on my mind

idea from @sky-is-the-limit❤︎❤︎

cw: suggestive [a little more than suggestive], foul language, age difference [as always, hes like 40...], cheating, high sexual tension, voyuerism?, fem! reader.

Your boyfriend was a sweetheart, as a boyfriend, but he was definitely not a pleaser. Your night-time rendezvous were never quite successful, nor were they satisfying in any way. Your boyfriends knew your favorite flowers, but he didn't know how to fuck you to make you scream.

Thought, it seemed there was another option. When you first saw him, the feeling that grew in you stomach caught you off guard. But instinct is instinct right? Every morning, you see the man next door, that sweet smile making you sweat after your morning shower, the small wrinkles around his eyes making him addicting to look at. Like a poppy, he became irresistible as his cold formality was grounded down, thawing to reveal his astute, bold charm. His eyes flickering from your eyes to you body, all-knowing to the perky flesh that peaked from the low cut of your tight top.

You knew what you were doing, especially when you waved so sweetly after he was gone for a weak, welcoming him back with an arm around his neck, letting the gruff of his chin and lip press against your cheek as you kissed his, his lips returning the favor. You pulled away, looking up at your neighbor with fictitiously innocent eyes, smiling sweetly as you speak gently, jejune, absurd tone inking your voice, arms interlocking around his neck,

"Captain Price!" Your hip presses against his teasingly, your head tilting in temptation as you move your hair to reveal your supple neck. "How are you? It's been a week since I've last seen you!" You pout, enjoying the lavish touch of his hands holding your waist, not resisting your advances. With the charm of the devil, his husky voice filled your mind like velvet wine,

"Lot better after seein' you, love" His alluring lips smiled, observing your delicate features, obsessed with the soft curve of your cheek, your blushing lips, the breasts that you went out of your way to show, the waist his fingers squeezed. You really made his day better, gave him something to think about that night.

That night was the same as always. You sighed at the ping of your boyfriends text, wishing it was that absolute provocative man that you called your neighbor. Soon enough you were in bed with your boyfriend, hot breath shared between wet kisses that dragged down flushed skin. The problems arose with the inconsideracy of your boyfriend, who didn't bother to tease your little cunt, the lubrication lacking as he pushed himself inside. You whimpered, ignoring the discomfort provided as his hips rocked.

Albeit your boyfriend was completely heedless to your pleasure, your dear neighbor was otherwise. Mind filled with thoughts of you as he sat on the couch that shared the wall of your two apartments, listening as your moans warmed up. His mind flooded with your body, your silken voice that tempted him at every minute of the day. He knew you knew, you knew he could hear your desperate yearning for pleasure he knew that you pathetic excuse of a boyfriend couldn't provide.

Hazy thoughts of what he thought of your boyfriend turned into dirty words he whispered into his collar, his hand matching the pace of your sweet sounds, stuttering in edged pleasure. He visualized the way that begging whine for more that always escaped your lips would never ring in his ear if it was him, how that whine would turn to squeals of his name. Not as though it was hard, you voice easily breaking through the walls, which grew more evident to be quite a purposeful action.

His hand pumped wildly, his neck craning as he panted, blurry vision enveloping his mind as he imagined his hands on your hips as he held you up, rutting into your plump flesh, the skin rippling with his harsh movements as he flipped you onto your back. His groans struggled to escape his sealed lips, coming as hushed sounds that were inconceivable, easily confused with your dramatic voice.

When it ended, he never felt more disgusted. Not at himself, though maybe he should for just maturating to the sounds of his cute little neighbor, who was definitely doing this on purpose. But regardless, because that pathetic man you called your boyfriend couldn’t make those doe eyes ripple with tears of pleasure. Hearing the murmur that spilled through the shared walls, he stood up, pulling his zip up as he washed his hands off, your face still lingering in his mind, almost getting him riled up again.

The next day was silent, much to the Captain’s dismay. As much as he detested that boy, he can’t say he felt the same about hearing you moan through the walls. Though, that chagrin would soon dissolve.

God, you had just seen your dear Captain Price while in lazing in your car. His fitted shirt accentuating his sculpted, military physique peaking through the tight, long sleeves. Your eyes followed him like a hawk, glazing around his body, his, unbeknownst to him, seduction drawing you in like a trap. A temptation. So how could you not resist it as you waited for him to return, patiently waiting in you car for an untimed 25 minutes, scheming as your panties got sticky with each idea. When you decided, you felt like a greedy succubus as you followed behind him two minutes after, your mind playing tricks with you as you desperately rushed to your apartment.

Inside, you found yourself alone, your very choreographed bedroom, where the side was pressed against the wall that you were blessed to share, you sat down, skimpy shorts sat on your hips, lacy bra covering your tits. Barely. You heard the heavy footsteps of the man you knew to be your neighbor, feeling the lust boil viciously in your stomach as you leaned back, letting your eyes close as the murmur of television leaked through your walls.

Just the idea of him had you a mess, clit throbbing as you delicately dragged your fingers over your shorts, nothing but that soft cotton protecting your clit from what you wished were Price’s fingers. The thought of him made you whimper, trembling and panting as you gently traced circles around your clit, the sloppy flesh only getting more saturate at each image of him In your mind. You gently prodded a finger at you entrance, the memory of his wide, rough hands filling your mind as you imagined it was him, your slender fingers transforming into his large ones. You gasped, eyes squeezed shut, not darling to let go of your dream, pressing the finger, your but to your pretentious mind, his, into your sopping cunt.

His volume turned down in suspicion. Was he deranged? The sound came again, his ears honing into the luxurious sounds of your soft whimpers. Too enough, his apartment was dead silent, focused on nothing but the heavenly sounds of your moans, with none to accompany them. His throbbing dick was begging to be released from his loose sweats, mis mind hazy as he hears soft murmurs, gasps, moans, everything he wanted to hear without the irritating sound of your boyfriend. He rushed to shove his sweats down, pumping his erection as he leaned his head back, the tip of his skull pressing against the wall. Each noise became louder, making him groan, not bothering to hold himself together. He wanted you to hear.

He needed you to hear

You mind freezes when you hear it, lips curling into a pleased smile as you let yourself go, hearing Prices moans of pleasure through the wall. Your plan was working, now all he needed to do was break though that wall.

Well, maybe not that dramatically, it would be a little hard to persuade insurance to cover that.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

defo gonna post the full on ao3 once i finish up and some more... details for kinktober

directory

#ao3 #ao3 author #suggestive #drabble #price x reader #price smut #captain john price #price #cod #cod smut #mw2 #cod mw2 smut #john price x reade #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price smut #captain price #cod price #task force 141

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v1x3n · 28 days

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♡ they find your smut

141 x reader ┃ navigation ୨୧ tags : smut?

comment to join main taglist

୨୧ taglist: @xxshadowbabexx // @wonyoungloversblog // @ambitiousabi4288 // @royaltysuite // @tiredlittle-wallflower // @namgification // @strawberrychita // @hilmiponken // @pinkslaystation // @snowyaddiction //

@rosiehale23 // @chnets // @butchbabes // @tulsajesvsfreak // @styrofoamplat3s

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mikichko · 2 months

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just waking up delirious from a nap but cant get rid of the idea of price being interrogated by your friends.

night after your housewarming party, he steps out of your room bare chested and sweatpants low on his hips and finds your friends waiting for him.

they’ve never seen or heard of this man before. you only introduced him last night as john. the only indication of anything between the two of you was a constant point of contact between you two all night.

the questions start right away. name, age, occupation, how you met, what his intentions are. it’s all very entertaining to him, being on the other side of an incredibly juvenile interrogation attempt.

he takes it in stride though, not faltering for a moment as he starts to make himself a cup of coffee. price. ignores the age question, honestly kids these days lack decency and decorum. government worker. met at a bar. just trying to be a good man.

they don’t miss the way he doesn’t fumble through your kitchen. instead, moving through it with precision, knowing where every single item is.

and then finally, “what are you to them?” asked by the one in the back with curls, broad shoulders, and anger in his eyes that warms price all throughout. he doesn’t know he’s already lost.

he takes a sip of his coffee, mulling over the question and the last few months. shared drinks in the dark corner of an already shady pub. carrying your groceries in after you nearly tripped over yourself walking out of the store. books traded back and forth on park benches adorning a pond. stories repeated over a hot plate of dinner, the warmth softening john just a little more. your nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped around him, his mouth peppering kisses against your neck and mouthing words he can’t say out loud just yet.

he smiles against the rim of the cup, taking another swig.

“i’m, their caretaker.”

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meowpupp · 4 months

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I know price would let pup-soap fuck puppy-girl but would he share her with Simon?

tw:// hybrid smut, fem reader, overstim, messy sex, 3sum, absolute filth

owner!price who lets owner!simon fuck his cute girls cunt so he can see what a well trained pup feels like.

price sits in the corner of the room, eyes drinking in the scene. simon's hunched over you, nose buried in your neck, inhaling the sweet needy scent that rediateds off of you. hes 9 inches deep, almost brain-dead, the only thing he's able to think about being your hot, tight cunt.

you mewl and whimper under him, thighs shaking as he stuffs you again and again and again. he's thicker than price, stretching your walls to their limit. your whines only grow louder when he presses down on your tummy, making you feel every thick, veiny, inch as he rutts in and out.

simon's ruthless, manhandling your body however he likes. sure, he has a pup of his own. soap is more than satisfying, but to finally get his hands on something like you? a tight cunt trained to take cock like a champ? well, he can't control himself.

your only comfort is price, and even then, the man is mean. taking photos of your fucked out face, of your stuffed cunt as you leak cum all over the sheets. "just making sure simon has some souvenirs. you don't want him to forget how good you were hm? we'll make sure hes got some photos so he can show his pup how to behave."

you end up almost passed out. your cunt long past abused, body twitching and tensing as you cum for the nth time. simon has you pinned ass up, hand fisted in your hair. his other grips your hip tightly, pulling you back each time he slams into you.

a wet squelch sounds out with each thrust, only adding to the lewd atmosphere. you're a mess, cunt drooling down your thighs, staining his bedsheets, joining the mix of cum already there.

"s'fuckin good. fuck," his hips speed up, driving you towards yet another orgasm, "should be grateful you're not mine sweetheart. I'd ruin your poor lil cunt every fuckin night. let my mutt have the sloppy seconds."

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bleuu-moon · 5 months

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imagine you’re a civilian who’s held hostage with price, but you don’t know he’s in the special forces, until he’s forced to whisper it in your ear as a way to try and calm you down as you begin to hyperventilate. telling you how if your captors knew, they’d kill him straight away, but he knows his men are already out looking for him.

and then it all starts to make sense, the way he never seemed fazed by the two days that you’ve both been locked up for, the constant reassurance he offered when you began getting overly emotional, the checking in on you, the advice he offered to drink sips, not gulps and ways to conserve your energy.

he knows he gave you hope, as you become more talkative, making conversation about your outside lives. asking him personal questions that he doesn’t mind to answer for you, and seeing how you perk up talking about yours, he reciprocates the questions.

by day five, it feels like ten, but you’ve become a peace for one another. talking escapes you both, temporarily erasing the memory of your current situation.

you’re there, rushing to his side when he gets a blow to the face from one of your detainers, a result of his unsmart mouth, asking him how to help stop the bleeding from the gash on his cheek. he tries to shoo you away, ensuring he’s fine, but once you rip a piece of fabric from your t-shirt and press it to his injury, it’s almost like he rests into your touch.

he begins becoming protective, when a captor makes a beeline for you, he won’t hesitate but to use himself as a human shield. willingly taking another punch or kick a punishment for his distraction. when a small bottle of water and stale food is shoved underneath the gate, he’ll make sure you have more than he does, refusing to listen to your protests. whenever he’s able to sleep, he’ll place himself closest to the door, in front of you, yet always facing you. once you’re tired, he’ll urge you to sleep, making sure he doesn’t sleep for too long at the same time.

the only time that john panics in that cell, is when a gun is pulled up to your head, as a blackmailing tactic for information.

information that your brain doesn’t comprehend as your body is whirling in fight or flight. you watch on as he attempts to bargain with the man behind you, whilst still offering you comfort with the way his eyes soften as they meet yours, and a hand reaching out towards you.

and that’s when the cavalry arrive.

the chance to fall to your knees, free from the enemy’s grasp as he runs towards the gunfire, john lunging forwards to collect you in his arms. cradling you into his chest as you fall apart against him. he soothes you, telling you that it’s all over, that you’re okay.

you don’t leave johns side until you arrive at the hospital. glued to him from the moment he stood you up and walked out the cell with pulled into his side, hearing words of affirmation towards him from those who refer to him as “captain”. in the helicopter, he still had you right there, so close to him, you may as-well be one. that’s why the nurses have to pretty much pry you from him when you land.

conveniently, you both end up on other sides of the building, as your vitals are checked and monitored. not knowing that john was discharged almost straight away, and on his way to find you within the first couple of hours, to everyone else’s dismay.

he doesn’t know the emotion he feels the second he see’s you asleep, but all he knows is that the sight brings him to the verge of tears. the drip that’s connected to the top of your hand, the continuous beeping that mirrors your steady heartbeat, but most of all — how peaceful and healthy you look already. admiring you, he quietly finds himself beside your bed, his hand subconsciously wrapping around yours, instantly noticing the warmth that you now possess. and when you slightly flinch, and flicker your eyes open to meet his, the small smile that forms on your lips almost brings john to his knees.

and that, right there, is how he knows that even though the way you met wasn’t ideal, he wants you beside him for the rest of his life.

#this was one of them things that i wrote read it back got disappointed and then thought fuck it #i will write a longer version of this one day #love these two x #captain john price #this was done in like an hour so bare with meeee #price x reader #captain price x reader #cod prompts

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ivymarquis · 27 days

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Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave.

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him.

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger.

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either.

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back.

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification.

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy.

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it.

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face.

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children.

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine.

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access.

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore.

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further.

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it.

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly.

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his.

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore.

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children.

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt.

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to.

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name.

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air.

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate.

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her.

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities.

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home.

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss.

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John.

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her.

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely.

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd.

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake.

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife.

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John.

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress.

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her.

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong.

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night.

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has.

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden.

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan.

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed.

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed.

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming.

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her.

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits.

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.”

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally- and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance.

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down.

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion.

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest.

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control.

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted.

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children.

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her.

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely.

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules.

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions.

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it.

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down.

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?”

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#captain john price #John Price x reader #john price x you #captain price smut #dub con #dark!fic #<- that is just my typical 'catch all' blocklist tag for anyone who doesn't wanna read anything dark/dubious/etc.#I am being conservative with using the tag pinky promise #my writing

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 8 - Breeding

John Price x Reader - 1k (on ao3)

summary: You worry that your boss sees your relationship as more long-term than you do. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: implied stealthing, under negotiated breeding kink, one-sided daddy kink

You tell yourself it’s just a kink.

You’re not ready to become a mother - you’d like to be married for at least a year before even trying for a baby, and you’d like to have an established career before even getting married. For you, the idea of a bun in the oven is so far down the line it’s not even visible on the horizon yet.

But you know it’s not the same for Price. He’s older than you, has lived a far wilder life and lost it what must be nearly a dozen times over. He’s a weathered man, with deep lines on his forehead and wrinkles around his eyes, just the tiniest hint of silver creeping into his beard.

You know it’s not smart to have a fling with him. Not only is he your boss and a controversially older man, but he’s also the exact opposite of a commitment-phobe like you. He’s always looking for more commitment in fact, something you hadn’t expected considering the illicitness of your relationship with him.

You'd assumed an affair with your boss would involve mostly quickies in closets, a refusal to be in the same room as one another during the workday, maybe even pretending to dislike each other around other coworkers. Instead, he talks to you more once you start sleeping together than he had before - he parks himself on your desk at any time he pleases, invites you to have lunch in his office with him (alone), and laughs when your co-workers call him your work-husband.

So you know that he wants more, that he wants you to really be with him (he hints at far more than just that, but doesn’t dare say it aloud, which you’re glad for) past just being his secretary and his fuckbuddy.

In fact, he’d nearly torn you into two when you’d giggled and called him a “bootycall” after he called you back into work hours after you’d gone home. His face had gone from eager and affectionate to what you can only call scolding, and he’d been rougher with you than normal. You enjoy a few smacks to your ass, but that night he’d spanked you hard enough to leave you squirming the next morning when you sat at your desk. You’d been pouty about it, had glared only half-playfully at him when he smirked, but the way he ate you out on his desk for lunch more than made up for the discomfort.

And he makes these… comments sometimes, while he’s buried inside you. Things that allude to a future you’re not ready for.

Gotta come after me, sweetheart, it takes better like that.

Hips up, don’t let any of me drip out.

Gonna make me a daddy, pretty thing? Huh? Gonna take my cum and grow me a baby?

My good fuckin’ girl, lettin’ me breed her pretty cunt.

Gonna look so pretty, all round for me. Gonna take such good care of you.

C’mon, honey, wanna make sure it sticks this time.

You tell yourself it’s just a kink. He plugs you up with a couple fingers once he’s finished, says “Just to make sure you don’t lose any of my cum, can’t be wastin’ it right now,” and licks your clit until your legs shake.

He hardly fucks you in any position that isn’t bent over his desk, no matter how much you whine and beg for me. He just smacks your ass, gives you an extra orgasm or two to keep you placated. More often than not he leaves you bent over the desk after he’s finished, tilts your hips up a little higher and gives you a kiss on the temple as he sits back in his seat to get back to work.

You’d told him to use a condom the first few times, even though you’ve been on birth control for years. You’ve always been responsible with flings, been more than willing to send a man packing at the first hint of whining if he didn’t want to wear protection. A baby has never once crossed your mind as an option, and it certainly doesn't now.

So it was instinct to tell Price to put on a condom before he fucked you the first time. And he had, without kicking up any fuss about it past a furrowed brow and a grumble or two.

But then the condom broke, and you were left with his cum dripping down your thighs. You’d had a moment of panic, but he’d given you money for Plan B, and you told yourself the odds of getting pregnant with Plan B and birth control were so low it wasn’t worth stressing out over.

The condom broke the second time. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth. And every time after that you asked him to wear one.

At some point you stopped asking, and he never remembered himself. A few muttered questions about what brand he’d been using between fevered kisses, thick fingers at your cunt a distraction, and eventually you told yourself it wouldn’t matter as long as you kept taking the birth control pills.

It would be rude to demand Plan B after every round, right? Plus, asking for cash minutes after you'd both gotten off always made you feel a bit... dirty. When you feel him drip down your thighs, when you pull your panties up and feel the mixture of both of you gather there, you tell yourself that the birth control will surely do it's job, and you try not to worry.

Now, pulling open the drawer where you keep your pills, you wonder if maybe all his talk of babies and his cum taking is more than just heat-of-the-moment dirty talk.

You stare down at the empty drawer and every time he’s called himself Daddy echoes in your ear like a choir.

#this one is aggressively meh to me so sorry #reading through each kinktober before i post the day before and like. more than i expected have very little smut #bo writes #john price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #how do people tag for him #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober day 8

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marxo-fm · 2 months

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Take me to Church

✯ John Price x f!reader | Playlist

Summary: A reader who’s so religious that she doesn’t even think of anything close to inappropriate, until she meets her dad’s best friend, Mr. John Price.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mature themes and language, age gap (reader is 25 and Price is in his early 40’s), religious trauma from Catholic variety, dad’s best friend, loss of virginity, pet names, slight aftercare in the end, fear of getting caught from reader, smut, assurance, fingering, reader isn’t all that clueless but super inexperienced, protected PIV, oral (fem! receiving), reader has some troubles with masturbation (failure to finish), Price teaches the reader how to feel good, praising, no descriptions of readers body, race, skin color, ethnicity, hair type/length and body type.

A/N: Currently don’t know wtf I’m doing with my life and how this absurdity came to mind, but aye, I’m all here for it. This was so…..!? Yeah. Also big shout out to Hozier, my icon. Side note: I truly apologize If this fic is rough, I will edit it soon but it’s mostly because I haven’t written in a hot minute, due to school and shit, but I’m back now—and I’m proud of this!

—

The breeze kisses your skin as you soak the sun's warmth on a Friday afternoon. The grass is green, and the clouds are out, summer has just begun. You feel yourself start to come back, you were struggling but now that’s over—for a bit. You look over as you watch your dad chopping wood. Usually, he has his friends helping out, but you guessed they had things to do, which explains why they weren’t here.

You memorized their names.

There’s Gaz, Simon, a man who goes by the name of ‘Soap’—which you find funny and you’re not sure if that’s his real name or if it’s just a nickname—and then…John.

Mr. Price. Or so you call him. Sir or Mr works just fine. But you never explored your unknown and strange feelings for him. How you always felt so shy around his dominating presence, or how his voice sounds like honey and sins. You prayed at night and asked for forgiveness when thinking of such thoughts you’ve never thought of when you see John.

Until one day in high school—in health class—they taught about intercourse and other things that left you baffled and quite scared. Anxious. Curious.

You’d get scolded by your Catholic parents when you asked such things, they say it’s too early to get into these topics, or that you should wait until marriage. Your parents are good, but you always follow their rules. You never once disobeyed, only minor times but you always asked for forgiveness.

You’ve always been a good girl, but Mr. Price always makes the fire in your belly grow. And that fire burns through your veins in an excruciating need for something so sinful. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, but you never fight it off, and that was bad.

“Hey honey, ought to help me out here? The jerks I call my friends are out busy somewhere, c’mon, I’ll teach ya.” Your father motioned his hands as he walked to his area where he chops his wood, you’ve never done this before, but you’re excited. He gives you his axe, and you almost give out due to how heavy it is. “Can’t carry it like that sweet pie, hold it strong and firm.” He instructs.

You do as he says, squinting your eyes to look at his face of approval, “I think I got it.”

He nods and you bring the axe up to your shoulder, and you bring it down with every ounce of strength.

You chopped it.

“Attagirl, that’s one hell of a way to chop down wood.” A man with a deeper voice and a southern drawl said from right behind you, you turn around and the blood rushes to your head.

It’s John.

“Oh…Mr. Price,” you stammer, and you feel a rush of embarrassment plastering your cheeks.

“Y’know ya can call me John, right? Good job raisin’ her pal, she got manners.” He chews on his toothpick as he takes the axe from your hands, and the contact leaves you feeling vulnerable and so flustered. His rough hands that he used to work, chop wood, and fix things felt oddly familiar on your soft skin.

“We taught her well, ain’t that right darlin’?” John looks over his shoulder, his flannel covering his bulging biceps and that itself makes you feel thirsty for cold water.

“Yes, Dad,” you replied softly, “Well, I’m just going to head on over back home to help Mom out. Want anything to drink John?”

John looked at you momentarily, the way his name slipped out of your sweet mouth left him speechless. His eyes gaze over your white dress that sits just above your knees, it feels like he is undressing you, but he’s just wondering how and when the hell you looked like this. Of course, you were always beautiful, but there was something special there.

A spark.

“No ma’am.” He waved his hand and went back to work. You watched as his forearms grew bigger when he swung that axe down.

Forgive me for my sins.

You mumbled before you opened the door to your home and walked in.

—

“My baby’s such a bad girl, aren’t ya? Takin’ me so well.” John praises as he thrusts into you in sinister motions like he’s been deprived of something so good for such a long time, that it almost drove him over the wall.

How you felt so good, so welcoming, as his thrusts became deeper and faster. Touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed—nor could feel. It was an out-of-body experience like your soul had ascended, and you didn’t know whether it was real.

Until your alarm woke you up. It wasn’t real, but gosh did it feel real. You’re sweating, and your heart is running a marathon, as you regain your breath, you feel like you committed a crime. A crime so punishable that it could result in a death sentence.

You grab your rosary and you rock back and forth, praying and asking for forgiveness for ever dreaming about him. Your parents always told you that you wouldn’t have a good spot in the afterlife—a place called hell—if you thought of or committed any acts of sin. Especially anything and everything related to dirty inappropriate thoughts or worse, sex. Commit any of these before marriage, and you have a spot ready for you down below.

You feared for your life, even though it was impossible for anyone you love to know. They won’t ever know you have thoughts about John, or how you feel warmth between your legs when you picture him touching you in places you can’t please. Or how you picture him shirtless chopping wood, grabbing your waist from behind as he helps you hold the axe properly and swing it down. It was oh so shameful of you. Dirty, bad, sinful.

But you feel as if enough was enough, you’ve been good for far too long, that you deserve to feel good about yourself for once.

It was the perfect time, six thirty in the morning and both your parents were sleeping away, not knowing their good and obedient daughter was yearning to touch herself.

You lock your doors for safety as you scurried back to bed, you lay down on your back as you skim your fingers down your chest.

Deep breathes in and deep breathes out. You don’t know how to do this, but you’ll give in anyway. You sigh as you pull your shorts down, with your underwear as well. You drew circles around your belly before trailing down to your heat. Soft gasps escaped your mouth at your sensitive touch. Sensitive and swollen from the dream you just had.

You close your eyes, rubbing circular motions on your most sensitive area as you picture John doing this for you instead. Rough and hard-working hands aiding you. A coil in your stomach tightens, urging you to untie right then and there, but you can’t get the motions to stay the same.

You winced as you pushed your finger deeper, your back arching in response. You don’t feel anything, no pleasure, only pain and emptiness.

You want to scream in the agonizing torture of being so close yet so far away. You pull your shorts back up as you go inside the restroom to wash your hands.

You committed acts of sin and weren't pleased, and now you feel nothing but guilt and insecurity of not knowing how to do something right.

—

The next day, the same place you were before. Outside on your dad's truck watching his friends help out with work. John wore a tight brown tee that accentuated his muscles, he's a retired man, but you could see every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears in that body of his.

You blush, thinking about it. About what could be hiding under his shirt.

He catches you eyeing him but you quickly divert your eyes back to your book. John smirked, telling your dad he'll be back in a second and wants to talk with you.

"Ya watchin' me, sweetheart?" He smiled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. You watched as he did so, fearing that he'd ask you to take a puff, though you never would. "I...I was just trying to learn how you chop your wood, sir."

A deep chuckle escapes his mouth, "Y'know I can teach you, doll," the new nickname had you unable to face him, but he loved seeing you flustered. He took a puff and you nodded, "Come on over to my place, your dad won't mind. I'm not at home much, anyway. S'good to learn y'know," he went on as he walked closer to you, his southern accent becomes deeper as he goes, "You'll have the privacy that you need, to read your books and pray." He knew how religious you are, heck, he's a good friend to your parents.

"I don't know if my father will let me go, with a man nonetheless." John looks back and then back to you, "It's only me, angel."

You decide to ask your father, just in case. You don't want to go behind his back, even if John is family. You walk on over, building the courage to ask your father if it's okay to go over to a man's house, a man you yearn for.

"Dad, is it okay If John takes me to his house? He's gonna teach me how to chop wood." Your dad looks at you momentarily, before speaking, "Of course honey, just because I want you to help an old man out here and there. 'Aka' me." You tried to keep your cool, to not look so eager about going over a man's house.

John smiled, the thought of having you all to himself at his place gets him straining against his jeans. He loves it when you eye him as if he doesn't know or sense when you drool over him.

"Here's your room, sweet thing, if ya ever need anything I'm just a shout away." He sets his tools down and walks to the kitchen, his jeans shaping his toned legs and shirt sizes too small. Butterflies invade your stomach, merely at the thought that you'd be sleeping under the same roof as this man, and willing to teach you something you're so interested in.

"Can't believe your dress is that short, doll. Your mother let you out like that?" He eyed your white dress that sits just above your knees and shows more skin than the dresses you usually wear. "You know, Mr. Price, I'm an adult now."

"Course you are," he takes a sip of his beer, "but I ain't take you as the one to dress like this. Can't say I don't like it."

You smile, flustered at the way he just complimented you. You can't deny that you like it, you love it. It sent a rush of arousal through your entire body, and he noticed the way you crossed your legs.

"Damnit,"

"What is it?" You asked curiously, not knowing that John saw the way you squeezed your thighs together. He wants to ease the need and desire that coursed through you, but he doesn't want to screw it all up.

"Nothin', now come on outside."

"Now, you're going to hold it just like this," he instructs, pushing his hard body against your back as he holds your arms. You could feel the hardness of his strain on your back and you scream internally, unable to form coherent thoughts.

You made this so hard for him, so difficult to the point where John himself forgot what he wanted to teach you.

"Easy," his calloused hands left your arms and snaked their way along your waist. Your stomach flipped at the action. Goosebumps flare over your entire skin, his manly scent entering your nose and taking over your mind. You swallowed, and continued.

"Now raise your axe, and swing it down."

You did just so, and you successfully chopped the wood.

"That's it, angel baby, look at ya. Such a good learner."

"I am, aren't I?" You slightly bit your lip, John cursed himself and cupped your face. "Mm, damn right you are." John wondered deeply if you were such a good learner in other parts as well. Price cupping your face was a first, but his calloused hands that signal just how much of a hard worker made the intense throb between your legs grow.

You wake up with your blanket suffocating as you struggle to fall asleep, again. You tossed and turned, repeating everything and every touch he gave you. You try to stop the need and the burn in your belly, you really do, but it's hard when you don't know how to fulfill your need. It became so bad to the point where you stood up and walked to the kitchen for water.

He wasn't in his room, he was out for the morning. A busy man and you're so silly for thinking he'd be home, even when he informed you he wouldn't be home every passing hour.

But oh how much you needed him. In ways, you couldn't forgive yourself for it.

You sit down, as quiet as a mouse, waiting patiently for him to come back just so you can confess your dirty sins. Maybe he'll forgive you for them, or maybe he won't show you mercy.

You try to occupy yourself, laying down on the couch and turning on the TV, still in your nightgown. You pull the blanket over, ready to watch a cooking video to learn a few things.

But it hits you that you're actually able to do something about the heat in between your legs, now that nobody is here. The house was quiet except for the TV playing.

Your hand trails under the blanket, lifting your nightgown as you reach for your soaked underwear. Shameful how you're soaked even when he's not around, John really leaves his mark on you. You let out a sigh as you reached your wet and sensitive clit.

It's not easy when you struggle to please yourself, it's so disappointing, honestly. Today was no different.

There is this creeping guilt, but it always hits you the most just when you creep up the tip of the mountain, only for you to fall off when you realize what you're doing.

You can't stop thinking of him, shoulders aching and tears urging to escape when you're so close to reaching the end, only for it to be unsuccessful.

So, you close your eyes and let out a deep breath. Spreading your legs further as your fingers plunged into your aching hole, you gasped. Picturing yet again, how he pleases his women. Of course, he knew how, he is well experienced and capable of pleasing a woman, to the point where she forgets her own name.

You're committing acts of sins in his own home, unforgivable and dirty. Because you were raised with the idea of being perfect, but no one is perfect. From the moment you're born and the moment you die--but the moment you die is the moment John Price fulfills your dirty little dreams.

He whispers in your ear telling you how to do this and how to do that.

'Just like that.'

'Those fingers are too light, darlin', lemme do all the work."

"Attagirl, in and out."

And you almost reached the top of the mountain, whispering finally as sweat buds trail down your forehead.

Finally, finally, finally.

Until you fell down the mountain you tried so hard climbing, when John swings open the door to the sight of his best friend's daughter getting off on his couch. You hurriedly pull your panties back up.

At that moment, you wanted to scream.

To run away.

To die.

He's going to tell your dad, and your entire body freezes. You can't plead for forgiveness when you're so far gone. No mercy will be shown when he kicks you out and tells your parents how bad their daughter truly is.

You sit straight as your body shakes in fear, you're unable to cry when you know your fate.

A sinful girl.

"John," you choke, "I-I am so so sorry, I didn't mean to. I really wasn't-"

"How long have you been at this?" Your heart drops all the way down as the blood from your face drains. "O..only," you struggle to speak as his deep brown eyes gaze at you, "It was only this one time."

You lied.

Another sin.

He stands in silence, shutting the door behind him as he takes big steps towards you. He hovers over you, looking down to see a dirty girl in front of him. As if you played this innocent and sweet girl, though you were, except in John's eyes you weren't. At least that's what you thought.

He takes your chin and pushes your head up to face him, you weren't able to look in his eyes, it was all too much.

"Look at me," he grumbled, you did just what he said. Not once resisting, although it was difficult.

"I ain't mad at ya, it's natural, honey."

Your eyes widened and your shoulders relaxed from the tension and fear.

"You're not going to tell on me?" You asked, Price chuckles.

"Course I'm not, I ain't no snitch, I'm a grown man." He bends on his knees, his thumbs rubbing circular motions on your exposed skin.

"Did it feel good? Sorry to have ruined it for ya' angel." It sure did feel good knowing you almost reached the top, it really did, but it felt better having John assuring you that it was all okay. "You don't have to be sorry--I was just..."

"Go on."

"Continue what I interrupted, don't let my presence stop ya," he signaled his pointer finger toward the door to his room, "it ain't comfortable here. No space to spread those sweet legs, is there?"

You shake your head, "Go on, unless you want me in there. I know deep down you do, doll, you can feel so much better." He's right, the moment you've been dreaming of, it finally comes true. How could you say no to John being in the same room making you feel good?

You almost can't believe it.

He suddenly picks you up from the couch, initiating a soft gasp from you when he opens the door and throws you on his mattress.

You balance yourself with your two hands when he undresses himself in front of you. Starting off with his shirt. You gasp once again, at the sight of his sculpted body before you. His chest was full of hair and his toned dad bod was the definition of perfect.

He gets on the bed and slowly crawls towards you, his head now in between your thighs. "I interrupted your time of need, sweet girl, let me make it up to you." He smiles before hooking his finger on the hem of your underwear, pulling them down all the way to your ankles. On display right before him, so shy you hid away, unable to look at the lewd sight in front of you. "That ain't gonna work for me, eyes over here." His fingers dug into your thighs, you did just as he said, looking at his eyes that continue to look at your pretty pussy.

"S'fuckin' wet."

It's a dream come true for John as well, to see you all wide open and soaking wet for him.

He places peppered kisses along your thighs, and you whimper as he stops. John makes his way up to your lips, biting your bottom lip before kissing you deeply and hungrily. Exactly like the dreams.

His stache brushing against your top lip only made it feel real, his tongue deep inside your mouth as your hands held the back of his head, pushing his mouth impossibly deeper. He's eating your face as if it were his last meal on death row. Like a predator catching his prey.

He pulls away from the intense kiss, the saliva leaving both of you.

Good God did he know how to kiss, you let him do all the work when you could barely kiss him back just as good.

His chest heaved, and he continued with his kisses on your neck and down your collarbone, pushing a soft moan out of you that drove John over the wall. "Make more noises, it's only the two of us, jus' let me hear ya." He cooed, his hands lifting your nightgown over your hips and then over your head. His eyes trailed over your breasts hidden in your bra. "Ah fuck," you sit up, allowing John to unclip your bra, the sight of your chest out on display for him made his mouth water. He grips your left breast with one hand while he sucks and kisses the other.

"Oh, John...keep doing that, please."

He kneads your breast, almost putting you to sleep with how good it feels, "mmmhm," you sighed, "you been wantin' this, and I'm sorry for waiting this long." He apologizes as he places kisses down your belly and finally makes his way back to being in between your thighs.

"No need...to be sorry," you breathe, tilting your head back when he swipes his tongue between your wet folds. The new feeling alone made your legs tremble, enticing a loud gasp from you. You start to rock your hips against his mouth as his deep groans vibrate through your entire nervous system. "Taste like fuckin' Heaven, oh sweet baby, I think you are heaven itself." Praise that had you dropping your jaw as he inserted his hot tongue in your hole.

You swore you saw Heaven.

Brows furrowed and back arched as he eats you like a hungry man, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you, and your legs spread further open inviting him in for more.

John inserts one finger in as his tongue continues to suck on your most sensitive area, and you let out the loudest moan you didn't think you were capable of ever making.

You died in this moment. And John swore he died in that moment, also.

"John," you pant, focusing on what could be your first-ever orgasm.

"I know, you're close baby, s'fuckin' tight, come for me." His words of encouragement suddenly break the coil inside your burning belly, the liquid seeping out of you as he continues to lick away every last bit from you.

He takes his finger and licks you away, which leaves you half-lidded.

"See? How hard was that? Like rippin' a damn bandaid off, does your wound feel better?" He teased, "It does," you say softly, still reminiscing what happened a few seconds ago. What you just felt, how it felt like fireworks exploding inside your veins.

"Such a perfect pussy, waiting to be full of me." He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, you've never had sex, but you definitely never needed something more than now. You need him, to get to know him, even when you already do.

"Does it hurt like they say?" You asked nervously, watching as his jeans disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers. His thick thighs didn't do much justice in the dim light.

"When I do it, then it shouldn't be as bad, doll. Jus' a little pain, but if ya feel like it's too much, you jus' tell me. Hm?"

It makes you feel special with how sweet he treats you, he treats you with such care that it truly makes you dizzy.

He takes off his boxers and you almost lose all consciousness, his cock leaking with pre-cum and hard, you thought it was quite inhumane how big he is.

Sure you've explored your curiosity, but John, he differed from all of them.

"Poor thing needs some love and I'm going to show your pussy what the definition of love is." You grew heavy with desire, "ya need me to use a condom, sweetheart?" he asked, you nodded, simply because you weren't on the pill.

He opens his drawer and pulls out a condom, ripping it off with his teeth and spitting a piece of the wrapper out.

That was a sight for sore eyes.

He slips it on his thick cock, the condom intensifying every vien, it left your mouth dry like a Sahara desert.

How was that going to fit? Was all you were thinking about, but you were so sure he was going to make it feel okay.

He sets his heavy cock on your soaking entrance, teasing you while he moves his dick up and down your folds, you whine with need and John chuckles.

Was this the sinful thing that would literally damn you for eternity? How could something so dirty feel so good?

He brings a hand of his to pin your arms down, while the other holds your leg close to him. Your brows furrow as he slowly enters himself into you. John grows concerned when he sees your lips pursed and your eyes shut tightly, a tear escaping.

He stops, and you stop holding your breath.

"It hurts don't it? Want me to stop?"

"Please, no," you gasp, "I...I want you to keep going."

He readjusts your hips, before proceeding to continue, "You sure, honey?" You nod and whisper a hundred times yes before he thrusts deep inside of you.

"So fuckin' good for me, fuck!" he shouts, he loved the way your cunt fluttered and wrapped tightly around his cock.

The silence in the room was filled with his groans and loud moans from you, so lewd and so dirty. But you're too far deep to leave now, you're ready to die, happily.

"My," he thrusts, then pulling away and thrusting back in deeper, "gorgeous," you gasp when he continues his rhythm of thrusting and being so close to pulling out before he thrusts impossibly deeper again, "Girl." He breathed.

He brings his fingers to circle your sensitive clit, and you feel it happening again. It's more intense and heavier.

Your walls wrapped tightly on his cock, initiating that you're indeed closer than you have ever been before. "Mhmm," he moaned, and it was such a sweet sound you so badly wanted to hear again. He grabs hold of your legs, bringing them closer to your head, thrusting at a deeper angle that you can feel in your throat.

"That's it, baby, that's my fuckin' girl right here. All mine, gimme one more." He stopped as you cried out his name over and over until it became engraved in John's brain. He silences your cries with his lips as your legs shake around him.

"You did so well for me, your pussy jus' needed some medicine to be cured, got you coming all over my cock." He begins to move again, to finish himself this time. Your pain turns into pleasure and familiarity when he pushes himself in and out.

"John, that feels so..." He groans loudly at the way you watch his cock slide in and out, it was obscene but also surreal, "look at you, fuck, gonna make me cum just lookin' at me like that."

Which you felt so good about, it's all you wanted.

He pants as he reached a certain point, chest heaving as you can feel his cock twitching inside of you.

John pulls out, and there's sadness in your heart at the emptiness. Your heart thuds loudly that your first time to be with a man you dreamed about, it feels euphoric. You felt ecstatic.

He wipes away your dry tears and your hair away from your face, that drowned in sweat and tears.

John admired you the second he laid his eyes on you till now, he never knew the definition of perfect until this moment.

"Can you teach me how to feel good?" You asked as your hand roamed his broad shoulders and his back. And fuck, did John love that.

"Course' baby, on top of the choppin' the damn wood lessons," you both laugh, "I got all the time in the world, for you."

Your heart ached, he whispered sweet nothings before he carried you into the bathroom to clean up the mess.

Then you nestled under his arms and his body heat, his chest, and arms hugging you as the two of you slept the day away.

It was worth every waking second, and now you can sleep peacefully.

A/N: Y'all, wtf. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Need him.

This lowkey needs to be edited some more now that I’m reading it, but I’ll definitely do that later…

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cheesit-notes · 10 months

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pervy tf141 x reader (pt2 kinda)

you're hot as fuck; the team knows it, and so do you. and god, you're such a tease about it.

➥ requested by anon!

tags: lowkey nsfw under cut!, fem!reader, sub gaz, sub soap, every tf141 member kinda subby, voyeurism w/ ghost, teasing, reader kinda dom implied, ass and lots of it, reader being a tease, bold reader

a/n: i started at 9pm and ended at 1am and sometime between then and now, i got really tired so sorry for any mispellings, none of my work are ever edited.. my brain isnt quite functioning rn and i want to sleep but thanks for requesting anon, whoever u are ;3

Gaz who’s gets so flustered over how… just how bold you are. god, you’re teasing him with those clothes that just fit your body so, so well. his morals are already questioned when you come in, he couldnt stop imagining you in different positions. but now he doesnt have to imagine! because now, you’re bending over, purposely showing him your plush ass, to pick something up, showing him what you’d look like in certain positions. and my, gaz is a little pervert isnt he? getting hard in the middle of the common area just because you dropped your drink and picked it up. his face is flushed embarrassed and his growing erection sure doesn’t help. quick, someone might enter the room and see his throbbing cock strained against his pants so sit on his lap, tell him to be quiet, and help him out, yeah?

Soap who love the confidence you have, he’s like putty around you.. if you initiate more physical contact with him, specifically touches that can be easily misunderstood if anyone were to see, and he’s practically drooling. has been pushed against the wall by you, his hand pushing up your thigh because he just couldnt help himself, and your lips just mere inches from his. he’s rock hard, you can feel it as you press yourself onto him, and he’s leaking so much precum, its like he pissed himself. yet all this to be interrupted by your dear old Lieutenant Ghost who happened to discover the scene. poor Soap who’s most intimate moment with you just disappeared and left with a throbbing cock, but you seem fine. in fact, you’re smiling cheekily. you whisper to Soap, telling him to wait for you in his barracks before happily walking away like nothing just happened. ah, but Soap can’t wait. he jacks himself off twice, unable to stop. and he’s panting like a dog! it only took you 30 minutes to come to his barracks, but he’s already a sopping mess; sweat dripping down his face, bits of cum splattered on his stomach, and a small pool in between his legs. then you start stroking his soft cock, and he shouldn’t like this. he’s can barely get hard, the overstimulation is so painful to him, but he’s a like a bitch in heat in your hands.

Ghost who gets so fucking hard during team briefings. god, his erection is painfully obvious to anyone who just so much as glanced by that area. he doesnt mean to get hard, its just.. you.. you’re there. right next to him. your ass is within reach, god, and your wearing those tight leggings again. he needs you to blow his poor needy cock off and he needs it bad. he usually wants to at least look decent in front of captain Price. oh, but god, he wouldn’t mind the entire crew watching him get a sloppy blowjob from pretty little you. he wouldnt even mind the entire crew watching him stroke his hard meaty cock if it meant you were watching. leans back and as casually as he can, he droops one arm over you. he’s afraid you might say something, anything, about his off behavior but you don’t; you lean into his touch. one hand so close to touching your tits and the other laid near his crotch. at first, its just little touches while he imagines how your pretty tits would feel, especially in his mouth. but within minutes, hes practically openly palming himself while imagining hes sucking on your tits. his mask is a savior for covering his flushed face. god, and he sees you looking over at him, staring him up and down, and he knows you see his big fat cock pushed against his pants. all you do is give a barely noticeable smile, and look away but he’s already cumming in his pants.

Price who finds your bold personality quite amusing. still calls you a rookie despite you being far from it. it’s a constant game of who can push the other off the edge with the two of you. you’ll visit his office in the later hours of the evening and plop yourself on the edge of his seat. the two of you are having the most mundane conversation, sharing a single chair while the sexual tension is screaming. he’ll move you onto his lap, you’re looking down at him and smiling, he’s looking up at you with a hand gripping your ass. he’s a bold bastard, leaning into your chest, pulling you closer to him until your basically straddling him. god, you’re really pushing his nerves. you should be flustered, an embarrassed mess at his perverted actions. but nooo you’re enjoying yourself, smiling. and lord, he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy your teasing. now, the question is: how many late evening visits will it take for an overnight stay in the office?

#cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #pervy task force 141 #read tags!!#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #cheesy requests #1k+ notes yipee

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scarletevening · 7 months

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ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅɪᴅ [ ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ]

𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗿𝘆: 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁.

𝗰𝘄: 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗼𝟯.

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀; 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜, 𝚎𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

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forsworned · 4 months

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋfailed mission bluesˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ this fic was inspired by @ragingbookdragon bc holy shit they are absolutely talented and their writing style and the way they pick out little moments here and there in a chaptered fic kind of way but not quite? just a very casual yet perfect way to write idk if that makes any sense but anyways i just wanted to get out of my writers block and write this

꒰warning(s) ig suggested poly relationship???꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

Nobody had anticipated today's events. The mission was a failure. Rare, but it did happen every so often when communications went interrupted, information was falsified and one slip up from one person caused a domino effect. Still, no one was at fault.

"It was bad intel, mate." Kyle softly says to Johnny.

Johnny merely stares at his scotch that had been downed a few moments ago, the ice clattered and seeped at the bottom of the glass.

"I know." He lets out a sharp exhale from his nose.

Price glances over at Johnny before making eye contact with the bartender. "Any chance of a drink sometime this week?"

The bartender chuckled at the playful jab. "Aye, 'll be ready by tomorrow night."

The bartender came over to serve a bottle Stillman's to Price, but he tilted his head in Johnny's direction and the bartender picked up the signal. Johnny's eyes flickered up for a moment and the bartender gives him a kind smile. "On th'house."

The corners of the Scot curl up into a half smile. "Ahh, thanks mate." He murmured. His mind was flooded with distracting thoughts as he watched his glass being filled. He nodded at the bartender and then caught the gaze of Simon, not quite leering, more analyzing than anything but still scrutinizing if only a bit.

Johnny turned away and lifted the glass to his lips. The fiery liquid gave a pleasant burn in his chest. It was quiet save for the sound of Irene Kral crooning over the speakers and the soft pattering of rain against the glass. The bells at the bar entrance rang and the squelching of shoes against the hardwood floors made their ears perk up.

"Hey." She beamed at them, a little glint of light on the gloomy day. Her clothes are drenched as she removed the hood of her rain jacket. Lips glossed, skin dewy and her eyes shining under the dim light. The light frangrance of rosejam and vanilla permeated the air that she stood in.

"Lil late to the party, don't y'think, lass?" Kyle's smooth voice lightened the mood, as if her presence hadn't made them find oxygen once again.

She chuckled. "Yeah, sorry, was--"

"Feedin' that damn cat again, weren't ya?" Simon piped up as he sipped at his scotch and casted a quick glance her.

Her grin grew. "Oh don't be such a--"

He put his hand up to stop her. "'m not drunk enough for this conversation yet."

That earns a laugh from everyone. An impish quip from Simon was nothing that they were a stranger to, although, it happened more often than not when she was around. The mood lifted once more as Price grabbed a barstool and dragged it between him and Simon.

"Hava seat, duck." Price licked his lips as he sipped at his drink and he peered over at the bartender once more as he raised a finger at him.

She smiled at the bartender and waved her hand around and shook her head. "No drink for me tonight, Archie."

Archie raised his brows at her. "The missus doesn't want a drink, t'night?"

"Expectin' a wee one soon." Price larked with a grin as he patted her playfully over her womb.

She laughed and swatted his hand, peering up at Archie. "Not a chance. I'm not in the mood is all."

Archie nodded and went to tend to other patrons that entered the pub. There was a small moment of silence as she huffed a bit and set her bag on the bar. She unzipped her jacket and a pair of hands were on her shoulders.

"I'll take it." Johnny's voice was subdued as he peeled it off her form. She thanked him with a smile and he may have melted at the way she looked up at him with those eyes. He padded over to the other side of the room where the coat hanger was at.

"Taking it a bit hard?" she murmured to Price and Kyle and they gave nods and half smiles.

"Poor thing." She said as Archie brought over a ginger beer, popping open the cap and she laughed. "Thanks."

Another silence as Johnny joined them again. It was a numbing feeling. The feeling of something so grandiose slipping right through your fingers.

Her jaw ticked in annoyance. The sound of molars gritting hard against each other was loud as they glanced over at her. "We were right there."

Johnny hung his head.

"Not your fault, y'know." She fiddled with the cap that was left behind as she sipped at her bottle.

"It's not, Johnny." Simon agreed.

That struck a cord in him. His hand tightened around the glass and he felt a baseball sized lump gathering up in his throat. He decided on keeping his mouth clamped shut.

"Jus' glad you're alive, mate." Kyle clapped the Scot's shoulder.

"Otherwise we'd have to kill ya ourselves." Price chirped up. Another wave of laughter. A small smile adorning Simon's lips as he took another sip of his scotch. The solemn mood overcoming all of them once more as they sat there in silence. Indeed there was nothing they could've done, but the deadened feeling of a failed mission was unmatched.

#cod x reader #call of duty imagines #mw imagines #simon riley x reader #ghost x reade #soap x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost x reader #poly 141

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 3 months

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Do you know who my daddy is?

Captain price x Fem reader (single mom)

You brought your kid to the base, she has an important homework, talk about what mom/dad does at work. The little kid is in trouble and the best she can do to get out of the problem is lie about who her daddy is.

Warning: it's not very interesting but I had a lot of fun writing it. I like to think about Price having a daughter. Anyway, as usual, grammatical and spelling errors.

- hey my little sunshine! how was your day?

- it was fine, I have homework though.

- oh, what is it?

- I have to talk about your work, what you do and things like that.

- Oh well, I have to talk with my superior and let him know that you will go with me for a few hours just to see what we do, ok?

- Okay

That was the small conversation with your kid, she was very excited to go with you, you talked her a little bit about your comrades and your very handsome captain, she made fun of you for the way you talked about Price and sang «Mommy and the captain, sitting on a tree giving little kisses and falling in love...», of course you warned her to not say that at the base, as every kid, she thinks your job is full of action and adrenaline, because that's what she watches on tv, she certainly wasn't expecting to see you writing reports and reading files, attending some calls, just like you're doing right now.

Price was very kind to let you bring her today, he also told you to give her a small tour around the place to make it more exciting, your poor girl is dying of boredom sitting in the chair of your office, observing the ceiling and the light over your heads.

- I'm sorry darling, we will give the tour as soon as I finish this report, okay?

- I thought we would fight against bad people or that you would show me guns, this is so boring!!!!!

- Honey, making all this paperwork is also a way to fight against bad people, also very important.

- B-O-R-I-N-G...

You sighed, certainly it's not the funniest activity but you needed to finish it as soon as possible, a knocking on your door was perfect to interrupt your girl's complaints, Gaz appeared with a small bag of candies.

- I heard you brought a mini you today, I wanted to say hi.

- Oh Kyle, thanks, come in, this is my daughter (____). Honey this is my friend Kyle, be nice and say hi.

Your girl smiled at Gaz and took the small bag, she started to eat some jelly beans and talked for a few minutes with Kyle.

- (...) And now I'm here! Bored!

- I already say Sorry like a thousand times baby!!!

- I can take her to give a walk while you finish... just if you want (y/n)

- that would be great, I will finish soon I promise!

- YEAH! LET'S GO KYLE!!!

Your daughter took Kyle's hand and left the office, you laughed and continued your work.

Gaz went to the common room so your daughter could say hi to Soap, Ghost and other soldiers. needless to say that your girl was enchanted to meet Soap who played with her and gave her a small gel blaster, both made a mess with those gel bubbles, Gaz and Soap were cleaning up while Ghost and your daughter were painting one of Ghost's skull old masks, but your daughter was impatient to be with you and see the rest of the place as you promised her, she took her opportunity to escape from the three men when Soap attacked Ghost with some of the gel bubbles that were still on his blaster, Gaz was recording so, none of them noticed when your daughter left the room.

«Ah, Guys... Where's (_____)?» «Shit» «Was Johnny's fault»

They started to look for her, while your daughter was walking unsure of where she was going, she brought the blaster that Soap gave to her and started to shoot and play, her fun ended when she accidentally shot a soldier in his eye. The guy saw her alone and started to try to scare her.

- Hey kid, Did you forget the way to the daycare? who gave you that toy? This is not a place for babies.

- I'm 6, I'm not a baby!

- Aren't you? Then, maybe I have to tell you that you can go to prison for what you did?

Your daughter really believed that, she started to feel nervous, she was in serious trouble, what would she do now?. This guy kneeled down in front of your daughter and smirked.

- What will you do now? Cry with your parents?

An idea popped up quickly to her mind.

- I won't get in trouble, Do you have a clue of who my daddy is?

- Do you know who my daddy is?, oh please tell me who's your father, dwarf, I will tell him you're being a troublemaker!

He imitated your daughter's voice.

- The Captain Price is my daddy! He will beat your ass if you don't let me go!

This soldier was ready to say something until someone appeared behind you, he stood up quickly and paled, the little girl thought it was Gaz or Soap who found her and arrived just in time to save her, until she heard the soldier said «Captain!», she paled too and looked behind her, a tall man was observing the soldier with a cold look.

- Is this young man bothering you, my dear?

- He says I will go to prison just because I was playing a little and I hit him by accident.

- I'm sorry Sir, I didn't know she was your daughter...

Price didn't act surprised by the soldier's comment, he continued looking at him and put a hand on your daughter's shoulder.

- Next time I see you bothering my daughter or anyone else, you will be In serious trouble. Do you understand?

- Yes Sir.

- Fine, now leave. Let's go my little princess.

Price kneeled down a little and carried your girl over his shoulders, he talked with her about your work and maybe, your girl talked about how you feel about him, on their way they found Ghost, Soap and Gaz running through the entire base looking for her.

Finally you finished your work and went to the common area to see if your daughter was there, on the way you noticed some soldiers were whispering and talking secretly while you were passing by but you tried to not pay much attention, you arrived to the common area and indeed there she was, she fell asleep on Soap's lap, who was sitting on a sofa.

- Hey y/n you found us!

- Sorry guys I had a lot of things to do, thank you to everyone for taking care of her.

«No problem» «Soap is always here to help» «it was your fault that we lost her!»

- You what??

- Don't worry, nothing happened to her, the Captain found her!

Before you could say something, Price caught your attention and asked you to go out with him to have a small conversation. You felt a lump in your throat and stomach, you felt you were in problems, as soon as you and Price were alone you started to apologize.

- I'm so sorry John, I mean, Captain, it won't happen again I can assure you that...

- Y/n, you're not in trouble.

- wha..?

- I was going to say, you have a sweet and smart daughter and... Very... chatterbox...

- Chatterbox?

- Yes, she said she was my daughter, and then she told me about... Some feelings you have.

- Oh...

You instantly started to try to fix and look for excuses.

- Sir, I'm... She's just a kid, she fantasizes a lot about her father and... Also she understood all I said in a different way, I'm really sorry Captain...

- I see, well y/n, you don't need to apologize, I understand she's just a kid, and as she's just a kid, tell me, who are we to ruin her fantasies about have a father?

He smiled mischievously at you, you were speechless, what the hell was happening?.

- Ah... Excuse me, what?

-Well, she's a brilliant girl and I always wanted to have a daughter and a very attractive wife. There are a lot of reasons to make this come true.

You're still processing all that is happening right now.

- Really?

Price took your hand and squeezed it softly, without losing eye contact with you.

- For sure, by example, everybody around the base is already talking about us and our little daughter and the other reason is that those feelings your daughter talked about, are mutual.

You couldn't say anything, you were lost in thoughts, but your silly smile was enough for Price to go a little bit further.

- So, if you allow me, I would like to take you to dinner tomorrow night. What do you think?

- I would like that, but who will take care of (____)?

He laughed a little and then simply said.

- I think Soap said he's always ready to help, no? And if you don't think he will be a good babysitter... well, I think your daughter has another two uncles that can help.

That definitely made you laugh loudly, Price looked at you with tenderness still waiting for an answer, then, after a few minutes of silence you nodded, that was the story of how you and your daughter won the Captain's heart and three new uncles for your little girl, it would be the story that your daughter would talk about in every opportunity she had.

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #x yn #long reads #x reader #141 x reader #fanfiction #price x reader #captain john price #captain price #captain john price x reader #john price #cod #captain price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader

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meatonfork · 2 years

Note

HII I JUST READ YOUR BLOODY HELL AND I WAS WONDERING IF YOU COULD DO ONE WHERE THE READERS KIDNAPPED AND WHEN THE TEAM GOES TO FIND THEM THEY ALREADY KIMLED EVERYONE AND THEYRE JUST WAITING THERE CAUSE THEH DONT KNOW WHERE THEY ARE BUT THEY KNEW THE TEAM WOULD COME. IM SORRY IF I WROTE A LOT IM JUST EXCITED 💗💗

hello?? i’m so glad you liked bloody hell!! :’)

again, i’m still working on capturing everyone’s character, so PLEASE bear (🐻) with me hehe

——————————————————————————

Cried for help, help came

pairing: platonic 141 x gn!reader

grim is back yall :’)

warnings: usual cod violence, blood, death, the works ya know

——————————————————————————

your hands were shaking.

blood covered you from head to toe.

you were unrecognizable.

your wrists were rubbed raw from being chained to the wall. looking around, you honestly don’t remember how long ago that was.

the room reeked. death, blood, must. it invaded your nostrils, leaving no room for anything else.

you didn’t feel any pain. which seemed odd. you’d been here for so long.

how long was it?

a day?

a week?

a month?

however long it was doesn’t matter. you went through hell.

the room was dark most of the time. a single table with a chair was sat in the middle. in front of where you dangled. your feet had barely touched the ground. lifting your pounding head had been too much for you, so you let it rest against your chest.

“who the fuck are you” the man in front of you seethed. his breath reeked, but you still refused to talk.

this wasn’t supposed to happen. the mission was supposed to be in and out. easy as that. you guess the target had other plans. he’d caught you off guard while searching the building, efficiently knocking you out from behind.

you woke in a room you’d never been in before, panic immediately setting in.

when he didn’t get an answer, he lifted your chin. smooshing your cheeks in one hand, while a knife was grasped tightly in the other.

you were hungry.

so fucking hungry.

and tired. you could really use a nap.

“one more time, bitch. who are you.”

spit welled up in your mouth, and you spat right in his face.

he mouth turned up in a snarl, and he quickly sliced the knife over your right side. a hiss escaped your mouth.

this went on for what seemed like hours. questions thrown in your face, only for you to answer with silence.

the torture and the pain going on for longer until you ultimately passed out.

the next time you awoke, the room was pitch black, save for the light seeping under the door. you made quick work of loosening the ties around your hands.

the door opening made you flinch, and your eyes welled shut from the light suddenly invading your eyes.

footsteps made their way over to you, and you kept your head down. counting your breaths in your head, you waited until the footsteps stopped in front of you.

1 in

2 out

3 in

4 out

now.

with all your strength, you lifted your feet and flung them into the man’s abdomen, effectively knocking him to the ground. hissing, you wiggled until your hands were finally free and you dropped to the ground with a thud. your side was screaming in pain, and you were sure at least one rib was out of place.

the man got back up and threw himself on you. you yelped, and tried to slip out from under him. it was no use, you were just too weak.

he laughed at your weak attempts, and pulled a knife from his thigh. your eyes widened as he raised it above his head.

this is it. i’m dead.

he was too slow. just as he brought it down to go through your head, you jerked to the side. the knife pierced right below your collarbone, and you screamed.

you flailed your body, throwing your attacker off of you. as quickly as you could, you got up and flung yourself at him. with much discomfort, you pulled the knife from your shoulder and slit his throat. a small scream left his mouth before blood seeped through his lips.

movement by the door pulled your attention away from him. three more men stood in the doorway.

fuck.

the first man, tall and burly, but smaller than ghost, stalked toward you. a rifle sat in his hands, quickly setting his sights on you. you jumped for the table, pulling it down as a spray of bullets rained in your shadow.

a click was heard. he was empty. you leapt from behind the table and lunged for him.

knocking him down from the side, you put your thighs on his shoulders and snapped his neck. he was dead.

a shot rang out, and blinding pain hit your left thigh.

he fucking shot you.

you grimaced and rolled to the right. picking up the first man’s body, you used him as a meat shield. the thought almost made you throw up, but he was already dead. not many options.

sorry, dude.

the man was thrown off. you were using his teammate as a fucking shield.

pushing his body at your newest attacker, you caught him off guard. they both fell, and you used this time to go for the third guy. he was a lot closer than you remember, and you feel a dull thump thrown into your face.

a sickening crunch sounded from your nose. the metallic taste of blood ran into your mouth and you gagged.

fucking gross.

rebalancing, you looked up at him. his eyes held fire, and you didn’t blame him. looking to your left, just slightly, you saw the second guy’s gun. you leapt for it, feeling the presence of the man behind you.

you didn’t even look.

you just turned around and held the trigger.

he looked like swiss cheese.

oh fuck.

his body fell to the floor with a thump.

blood pooled the floor around you.

your heart was racing and tears blurred your vision.

you were gonna throw up.

you were too distracted.

a tug to your hair pulled you back, and you screamed in shock.

grasping at the hands holding your hair, you dug your dull nails into their flesh and drug your hands down.

a grunt was heard, and your hair was loosened. you spun and kicked his foot from beneath him, causing him to fall back. you ran the other direction but a hand held onto your boot, causing you to fall onto your arms. a sharp pain ran up your elbow, and you gasped.

looking back, you see menacing eyes and an ugly mustache.

ew.

you wind up and kick his ugly mustache as hard as you can. a loud crunch was heard, and he let go. cursing flooded your ears, and you crawled to the chains that held you up only a while ago. you grab them and turn back to fugly. wrapping them around his neck and pulling as hard as you could.

you watch as he struggles, but you don’t feel sympathy. his face turning purple and his eyes bulging.

his hands scrape at your arms, drawing blood. but, you don’t seem to notice. he finally goes limp.

you don’t let go.

you. don’t. let. go.

it seems that minutes pass before your hands grow too tired to hold him there. the pounding in your head is almost blinding, and you can’t seem to catch your breath.

you crawl over to the far corner.

they’re coming.

they’ll be here.

you don’t know how many times you repeat that before a hand is in your face.

a gloved hand.

a skull mask quickly invades your sight.

you don’t respond.

you hear talking, but can’t form any words.

“grim. grim, can you hear me?” ghost’s voice is softer than usual. his eyes aren’t as cold, and he seems concerned.

your eyes meet his. all you can manage is a nod.

“yeah. yeah, i can hear you.” your voice is scratchy after screaming and not using your voice for what feels like years.

“good. yeah, that’s good. are you hurt?” he knows you are. he can see it. your shaking form covered in blood and bruises. he can’t tell where you’re bleeding from.

“nah, im good. cant feel a thing, l.t.”

“shit. jesus fuck.”

“let’s get them outta here, yeah? place is a fucking bloodbath.” soap.

soap!

your eyes drift from your lieutenant up to your favorite mohawk sporting teammate.

“yeah, bird’s here. we’re good to go. i’m gonna pick you up, is that okay?” ghosts’s voice floods back into your ears. you give another nod before his hands lift you up and carry you out of the building.

your eyes are heavy, and the loud whirring of the chopper blades make your head scream.

your head rests on ghost’s chest as he rushes to the helo.

“kid, you gotta stay awake, alright? we’re almost there.” his voice carries panic, and you try.

oh, you try.

but the last thing you remember hearing is, “fuck! medic!”

when you come to, a blinding light makes you immediately shut your eyes again. beeping to the right of you floods your ears, and you let out a groan.

“fuuuuuck.” your throat is raw and screaming for water.

“you’re awake, here.” you open your eyes again to see price to your left holding water.

“how you feelin’, kid?”

“like shit.”

and it wasn’t a lie. your whole body aches. your face, your shoulders, your throat, your abdomen, all the way down to your toes.

“that’s expected. you took a beating, kiddo. the room looked like horror movie. couldn’t tell who’s blood was who’s.” price’s voice made your eyes well up with tears.

a hand being placed on top of yours finally makes your eyes drag up to his.

“i thought i was going to die, captain.” your voice was no longer sturdy, it was cracking. you were scared. you were just a kid.

“i know. i know. but you made it. really fucking impressive, kid. we’re all glad you’re okay.” he sounded emotional, and his thumb rubbed across your knuckles.

sniffling, you look around the room to see the rest of your crew passed out in the chairs to your right.

ghost manspread, knees hitting both gaz and soap who were situated on either side of him. his arms were crossed and his head was thrown back. soft snores escaped his mouth beneath his mask.

soap’s arm was thrown behind ghost’s chair as his head leaned on his shoulder. gaz was curled up, back to ghost. efficiently using him as a back rest.

you giggled and turned back to price.

“i missed you guys.”

“we missed you too, kid.”

——————————————————————————

a/n: thanks for reading! and ty for the request! i hope this is everything you wanted and more :’)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price x reader #john price #cod x reader #cod mw22 #gn!reader #task force 141 #angst #thank you for reading #i love them sm #i dont know how to tag #grim au

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ghouljams · 5 months

Note

Ok but… single dad!price playing with his kid??? Ngl that’d have me asking him if he’d want more 👀👀👀

You watch as a child runs(toddles) to Price, only to be scooped up and tossed in the air by the man. You'd be more worried except that the peals of laughter speak to this being a familiar experience. Similarly the bear hug that the child is caught in, and the way Price leans forward to tip the child over his arms and kiss their cheek with a loud smack, make you think this happens a lot. "Daddy that tickles!" comes through breathless laughter, as Price pulls them both up to stand straight. He shift the kid to sit against his hip, and gives him a short bounce.

"Where's your nanny bud?" He asks, wiping some crumbs off the kid's cheek. The little boy scrunches his face up and tries to wiggle away from his father's hand. You cover your mouth to try and hide the giggle that threatens to slip free. They're a cute pair, the kid looks just like him.

"She said, um, she said," The kid can't be more than three, doing his best at talking with all the starts and stops of still learning. He glances at you, and leans against Price's shoulder, cupping his hand to whisper. Price hums, and turns his head so the kid can talk in his ear with a small smile. He mouths a silent 'sorry' at you and you shake your head with a smile. He told you he had a kid before you started dating, you can't fault him for being a father.

"You can say hi," Price tells his boy when the kiddo pulls away. He bounces him on his hip again and the kid leans his head against Price's shoulder, suddenly shy. He looks at you under his dad's jaw with a small smile and gives a little wave. You wave back with a friendly grin. "I've gotta put 'im to bed, do you mind if-"

"Not at all," You tell him, following Price inside the house when he holds the door. He directs you towards the couch and you take a seat, waiting for whatever bedtime rituals this little family of two has to finish. You can hear the soft melody of Price's voice as he sings quiet lullabies to his child through the walls, and it makes you smile a little wider. When he comes back it's with tight smile.

"Thanks for waiting, I know it's not-"

You cut him off again, "It's no trouble at all, your boy comes first." Price hums, dropping down next to you on the couch. He loops an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close against his side. "You're a good dad," You say, just... well just because you know he worries about it.

"Tryin' to be," He sighs. You cuddle a little closer against him, pick your feet up to swing over his lap. His free hand drops to rest against your thigh, thumb swiping against your leg idly.

"You ever think about having more?" You ask, curious. It's not the sort of question you usually broach so early in a relationship, but watching him with his kid makes you feel a little...

"We can start tryin' any time, sweetheart." Price rumbles low in his chest, the hand on your leg squeezes gently. You laugh at the joke, and his hand slips between your legs to press against you, firm fingers rubbing just where you like. You suck in a breath and try not to rock too desperately into the touch. "Already seen how good I treat one baby," He breathes, the firm pressure between your legs terribly distracting, "you want me to fuck another into you, all you gotta do is ask."

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soapppp · 9 months

Text

Soap is alright with Gaz making fun of him for his puppy like behaviour. He’s okay with Price calling him a mutt when he gets dirty paw prints all over the base hallways. He’s more than happy to obey when Ghsot whistles at him to sit or lay or move. Soap knows that werewolves are, at heart, dogs. They play, they chew up couches, they whine and argue with yippy barks, they make a mess with their thick fur and drool in their sleep. Try as he might to hate it, Soap knows that it’s natural for him to want to chase the large blue ball Gaz rolls down the hall way. He doesn’t care that he once broke his tail from wagging it so hard when he stole Price’s hat and made the older man chase him around the base.

But then….

It was a simple mission, something they had all done a hundred times over. Only this time, Soap was without his captain and his fellow Sargent and his collar felt too lose without Ghost pulling it around. Soap was fine with that, until he found himself working with a Lieutenant Manes. The man was alright, a good leader and quick thinker, but even upon meeting him Soap had a bad feeling.

The man didn’t tug at his collar like Ghost did, instead he pulled at Soap’s chin hair and growled at him to “stay the fuck down you overgrown dog”. He let out loud whistles and expected Soap to know what they meant, pushing him down by his snout when he hesitated as he tried to get a grasp on what he was asking. Manes threw a Grenade at some point and pinched Soaps ear, “that’s a grenade, mutt. Not a fucking toy, don’t chance it.” Soap had wanted to snap back that he was a demolition expert and knew the dangers of a grenade better than Manes, but as he realised the man was mocking him for a dogs love of playing fetch…

Soap came home from the mission and instantly Price was taking him out back and letting him shift into his smaller form, cupping his maw and patting his ears. Apparently another member of the 141, a goddamn rookie, had sent word to Price on the way back from the mission of how Manes had been treating their star wolf. Price let him sleep in his office that night, curled up at his feet while Gaz brushed his fur.

He didn’t ask where Ghost was, already knowing the answer.

#modern warfare #john soap mactavish #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish angst #simon ghost riley #werewolf soap #can be read as #poly 141 #ghost x soap #soap x price #soap x gaz #soap x everyone

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mikichko · 1 month

Text

captain price who gets thrown back in time when he hears that farah’s group has been deemed terrorists by the US

who suddenly remembers of another young, capable woman who had trusted the united states and had accepted their help in the fight only for them to turn their backs on her and her people at the last second. she didnt yield to their demands, pushing for the freedom of her people from both sides of tyranny.

price who’s called back and taken to headquarters for debriefing, doesn't even get to say goodbye, not that you wanted to in the first place.

they'd turned their backs on you and you turn yours on them, striving to build your country back up. and you do. you stay out of the government for the most part but put together a strong foundation that’ll be unshakeable for your country in the years coming. he knows because he’s seem the reports. seen how you handle a room, empower your people. some of it even done with a full belly.

he isn’t owed jealousy, you dont belong to each other, but he still cant push down the bitter taste in the back of his throat. even through dinner it stays there. has to stop himself from hunting down a man whose only crime was loving you. something he wasn’t brave enough to do.

after coming back to the present, he looks at alex offering him a gentle smile, grateful that he'll be helping Farah.

he asks Laswell for a favor, he knows that she knows where you are. his next leave is planned. no hotel, just a 4x4 truck, enough pull to make it up the mountain, and supplies for a family of four.

he can hear you in the back of the house, water sloshing around, as you talk to someone. and for the first time it strikes price that he never considered he'd be meeting your partner. whose child you had been carrying.

he doesnt dwell on it too much. already worked up the nerve.

then, he’s rounding the corner and there you are. muttering softly to a voice, that he now notices is much smaller and pitchier than yours.

coming from a carbon copy of him. no thats not right. its a mix, of his features and yours. your genetics definitely won but he can see himself mixed with you.

the girl has stopped talking, just staring now, causing you to turn.

“Hello Captain Price.”

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