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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

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What Are We (3 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

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

Word Count: 978

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

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

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

“Are we doing this or no, love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s warm. A furnace.

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

“Yes.”

“We sleep in the same bed.”

You nod. “That we do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything happens together. Everything.

So why keep denying it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist:

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

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dmitriene · 21 days

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cw: dark content, dubious consent, spanking, humiliation, thigh riding.

you were a proper brat, the one that town sheriff jonathan price couldn't stand at all, every outing you made to the town was leaving him with bulging veins all over his neck and forehead, jaw grinding harshly as his calloused hand stroked his mutton chops.

price just hadn't a single nerve for your antics, wandering around the town in the tight little shirts of your daddy that you sewed to fit your body, the slinkiest denim shorts that was possibly existing were hugging your rounded ass cheeks, soft flesh barely peaking beneath when you were bending against the shop's wooden counters.

you were john's menace, stealing for your own fun some fresh juicy fruits from some poor lad's shop, never paying and always giggling, charming his brains out of his head so he wouldn't notice your arm full of sweetest peaches.

wandering around john's office, twirling your ass all around and chatting with muppets that were sitting in jail cells, the same place you should be sitting at least couple of hours as well, but price doesn't have a strength to run after you, and his boys were failing on catching you as well.

you outrunned every one of them, from charmingly annoying scott, to the politely sunny man that was called kyle, and even the behemoth of a man that everyone was naming as a ghost, mostly because he gave up the first time you shoved your tongue at him and sprinted away by jumping through the gates.

your biggest fault was stealing something from sheriff himself, wandering to price's office while he was out for some deal as you wiggled yourself through the open window, just «a silly joke» on him for not letting you having your fun and reporting each movement you did to your daddy, but oh, you shouldn't have touched his things at all.

shouldn't turn his neatly organized office upside down, climb through his shelves and touch folders with important documents, as well as shouldn't open the jail cells and let out those who were sitting there for malicious mischief and other, similar to this one, things.

it really wasn't worth it to end up bent over a hard, muscular lap, with your tight little shorts dangling at your feet and cotton panties crumpled just enough to expose your rounded, soft rear to the silent room, where the only sound that resonates off the brick walls is loud, raw spanking slaps.

it's the first time in a long when john was that much furious, making his face go deep shade of red out of anger, fists tight and whitening at his sides when he opened the door to his office, catching you off guard in the middle of your antics, azure eyes darkening almost immediately as his fingers twitch and grasp at your hair, rippling out a loud, strained squeak off of your pretty lips.

you clearly didn't expect to see him, that john could tell, as well as end up half naked before his intense, burning gaze, a complete mess with your hands literally tied, now you couldn't run away from him, not when he finally caught you up.

maybe he enjoyed it too much, the thrill of having something that was constantly running from him made warmth bubble in his bulky body, like a game of cat and mouse, but finally you got exactly what you deserved, and john intended to feed it to you till the last spoon.

— “cocky, impudent little brat„ he all but barks and growls, making you shook not only from the stinging pain on your bulging ass cheeks, but also because of slightest fear that grip your body in its clutches, holding you unmovingly on john's thick thighs as you let out whimpers and tiny, ringing mewls.

tiny rope bites at your sore wrists, calloused palm slaps against your completely raw, reddened flesh with licking pain, your limbs feel absolutely putty, useless in your current state, with fat salty tears rolling against your fluttering eyelashes and down the flushed cheeks.

he smells of musk and gunpowder, sweat, scent with which he came back at least hour ago, and you knew that you're in for trouble, because he reeled of irritation.

all this situation was supposed to scare you away, make you beg for forgiveness, but you welcome each and every harsh slap with pooling wetness in the gusset of your cotton panties, the gentle lips of your pretty pussy visible just enough for john's gaze to catch on, and he straight on slows down.

the only thing that you register in your buzzing brain is harsh puffs that comes off his mouth, before dry ungloved fingers slide up against your folds, gathering the sticky, pooling mess, and you jolt, sobbing out a high gasp, which makes price huff out bewilderedly — “fuckin' hell, you're getting off to this, sweetheart? enjoying the humiliation?„

that makes your blood run incredibly hot, cheeks and ears burning up harder than the sensitive flesh of your perched ass, and you wiggle intuitively, pussy throbbing on itself and making you whimper, sincerely plaintively, cotton fabric sticking to your slicky folds, as you gather the courage to wobble out the small — “n-no„

but your body doesn't agree, you're aching, every limb feels as if it's itching and pulsing, you don't see how price bores his cerulean eyes into the slick gathered on his thick fingers, his own body rolling with waves of heat, clothes feels suddenly too tight for his own good, before he yanks your tied hands.

sudden movement makes you choke a squeak, rope still biting into the thin flesh of your wrists as he moves you to straddle his thighs, sitting securely, making your denim shorts slip off your legs completely and to the floor, as air in his messy office bites your sensitive ass cheeks, before there's another delivered, stinging slap.

you cry out, body jolting and pressing against his as you fall face first into his shoulder, inadvertently inhaling his cologne and hints of leather, his rough fingers knead your ass, calloused thumb rubbing strangely soothing circles that make your plush thighs squeeze together around his, desperate need for some kind of relief wells up hot and bothering, in your tummy and pulsing, currently neglected cunny.

price drinks up your every reaction like the most delicious whiskey, the labored breaths and the feel of how your pussy throbs, he can feel it all, together with hardening sensation in his boxers that makes his pants feel too tight beneath you, but it all will end up more than soon, cause his free hand moves to grip the back of your neck.

he's tugging, making your spine arch as your mound rubs against his leg just the right way, and he growls, head tilting to whisper out in your ear, his facial hair rubbing your skin harshly — “let's see how brave you are for real, darling? get off what's bothering you, and maybe.. maybe i'll consider to not telling your daddy what happened here today„

that makes you mewl so embarrassedly, nod your head silently into his muscular shoulder as your rounded hips roll cautiously, sudden pleasure sparks all through your shaking body as you still hide your face from him, but it doesn't matter, cause you're already signed the deal with sheriff jonathan price.

and no one in this town, if it's not the future dead man walking, will risk betraying the deal with him.

so you roll your hips rhythmically, letting your sopping pussy glide smoothly against his clothed thigh as your ass perches up, with his thick hand still caressing and kneading shamelessly, your strained, panting voice huffs out ashamed and delirious — “y-yes, sir„ which pulls a wide grin to his lips and a dark glint to his vivid eyes.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

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youronlydarlin · 3 months

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What if sleep deprived!reader is doing work late at night again, and what if Price fucks her to sleep ;) ((This has been in my mind for a week now)) (Im using anonymous because Im still shy-)

Hnhhhhh. S' is so fuckin hot nonnie.

warning: fem! reader, kinda brat tamer! Price and a very eepy reader, somewhat dumbification, rough sex to soft sex, somnophilia at the end, not proofread 😢

You know your husband hates it when you stay up late. Moreover if it was work he couldn't convince you to finish in the morning. But were you really to blame here? It's not your fault the deadline got pushed early. Besides, you wouldn't be doing this if you didn't have to.

That was the philosophy you believed in up until your husband came in and decided to put you to bed himself.

You were always so stubborn, but you were adding a whole new flare to it earlier. Making a big show about how "you have to finish the report now, lest you want your boss to beat your ass". And he understands, really, he does. A man with his line of work would understand the calling of responsibility more than anybody. Maybe the late hours of the night has finally gotten into your head. Cause that certainly wasn't an excuse to act up, talking back, and thinking you could banish him to the bed with only the presence of one. No, young lady that attitude will not be tolerated. What happened to his good girl, huh?

But you see, John's always spoiled you. Even during one of your fights, and tantrums. Since you wanted to finish your papers so much John decides to be the bigger person, and give you exactly what. You. Want.

This leads us to now. Both of your wrists are pinned against your back, John using them as nothing but a handle to fuck you back on his fat cock. You feel like a doll, all limp as you're fucked within an inch of your life right by your work desk.

You want to sleep. To slip into dreamland. But the bright light from your opened laptop, paired up with your husbands unrelenting thrusts inside your tight pussy prevents you from even closing your eyes.

Open mouthed, and mindlessly drooling on the papers you were fussing over earlier, John thinks you look best like this. Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be working, much less overexerting herself.

He takes pity on you. His poor, sweet, baby. You're just being forced by your stupid job to comply with even stupider work. Shhh, hush now, sweet thing. Your husband's here to help.

Thrusts slowing down, he gently lets go of both of your wrists. Seeing them carelessly fall to your side makes him coo softly at you. You're being picked up before your mind can even process the action. The blur in your vision makes the colors blend in with each other, and for a moment you see the world like a kaleidoscope.

Fatigue latches onto your bones like a pesky leach. The only thing grounding you is the fat cock nestled within your core. The jostle of a mattress takes you out of your delirium, the softness of silk against your back feels like heaven. What was supposed to be a satisfied sigh quickly turns into a pleasured moan as John gives a shallow thrust into your puffy pussy.

He knows your tired, but he just couldn't help himself. Seeing his princess finally in bed like she deserves. Whining and groaning, you can't eve bring yourself to lift up your arms and tell him to give it a rest. Give you a rest. But, he's doing you a favor can't you see?

John's leaning down in a second, kissing your temple shut. You feel your body slowly succumb to his ministrations. Whispering soft praises into your ear, while he grinds himself aimlessly in your velvet walls.

The feeling of it is oddly more relaxing than stimulating. Eyes closed, you feel powerless even as John slightly picks up his pace. You've accepted defeat, finally falling into the wistful sleep your body has craved. And John thinks you look absolutely breathtaking like this. Always so beautiful without trying. He gets closer and closer to release, using your unconscious body to get himself off. Cumming deep inside of your pretty, princess pussy.

a/n: AHHHHH. M' sorry for only being able to answer your request today nonnie, I know you sent this yesterday 😞 also like. I didn't know if you wanted something soft or rough, so I just added both. Also, this was a lot of fun to write! No pressure on keeping yourself anonymous, jus' know that you can always send in your horny thoughts. N e ways, I hope you enjoyed this! Have a wonderful day/night, my loves!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

#cod imagine #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader smut #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price fanfic #price x reader #price x reader smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #x female reader

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

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Happy trails, John.

A/N: I've been meaning to write the captain my captain but he's my holy grail—look but not touch even though I'd beg him to let me make him lonches at 4 am. Also, I watch Die Hard every Christmas because it IS a Christmas movie, argue with your demons. In response to @glitterypirateduck's prompt thing which inspired to me to write something cute and civilized.

“Just once, I’d like a regular, normal Christmas. Eggnog, a fucking Christmas tree, a little turkey. But no. It’s always ‘Die Hard’.”

“John, love. You’re being overdramatic. It’s just the holidays with my parents.”

You rolled your eyes as you stuffed your clothes into the luggage bag, preparing for the trip.

“I know, love, but I wanted to spend a quiet Christmas with my wife— but no, the in-laws have to call with their ‘Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…’ ", he said with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You snicker and say, “I promise we’ll leave as soon as it’s polite.”

“Sure, sure, I go out and keep the world safe just so when I can get a little reprieve, it’s to not spend it alone with my wife. I’m feeling a little fuckin’ underappreciated.”

You closed the zipper on your bag and went over to the bathroom where John was grumbling his displeasure. Looping your arms around his waist, cheek to his shoulder blade you say, “It’s just Christmas, hun. We’ll have New Year's all to ourselves and we can even have the boys over to celebrate. I’ll even tell you what I got you for Christmas.”

That seems to distract him a bit, as he turns his head a tad with a curious tilt.

“I bought you a Lagavulin 16-year aged single malt scotch.”

His eyes warm with appreciation and he lets out a resigned sigh.

“Right, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Stepping out of the bathroom, you turn to look at the time.

“Jesus Christ, John! We’re gonna need a miracle to get to the airport on time!”

You’re hastily grabbing your bags, yanking them off the bed and you see John on the phone.

“John! Get your bag—”

Suddenly, there are tires screeching outside on the driveway. John walks past you with his bag and picks up yours as well, before jerking his head at you towards the front door.

“You wanted a miracle. I give you— The TaskForce 141”, John says, tossing the bags in the trunk of a truck that has Ghost, Johnny, and Gaz in it.

You don’t even care to question why they’re here— you just hop in the back seat immediately and buckle up.

John’s foot is barely inside the truck when it’s speeding off, tires screeching on the pavement. The entire drive has you almost nauseous with the jerky turns and harsh brakes. At a particularly abrasive step of the gas that has your neck jerking back towards the headrest of the seat, you turn towards John with a white-knuckle grip on the driver and passenger seat— you ask “Who’s driving this car? Stevie Wonder?!”

Johnny, sweet Johnny turns with a confused furrow on his brow and says, “Whad’ya mean, lass? It’s just L.T.”

You’re at the airport in no time with the no-question illegal speed Ghost drove at, and you’re stumbling out of the vehicle with shaky legs. At least you made it.

Gaz grabs the bags from the trunk and places them on the floor but you’ve already run off to check in before it’s too late. John thanks Ghost for the help and after Johnny is rolling his window down— “I heard you’re going to America. To California, specifically.”

John grunts in annoyance at remembering the trip, and he sees Johnny grin cheekily at him before he says, “Yippy-ki-yay, motherfucker!”

#CODHOLIDAY2023 #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price fanfic #price x reader #price x you #john price x you #cod mwii #cod mw2

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thewulf · 20 days

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The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job. He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

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piratesfromspace · 2 months

Text

Alpha!Price x Omega!Reader drabble

Imagine you're an Omega on suppressant, on a very long mission with the 141. But at the beginning of said mission, your stash of suppressant has been stolen and you're too afraid to appear weak or to compromise the mission so you don't say anything. Except at one point, your heat comes and it's spiralling out of control real fast. One night, Captain Price, an alpha, finds you almost passed out from the pain on the floor of your room in the safehouse. He can smell your pain and your fear, and underneath it, the potent pheromones of your heat. It's a shock to his system, all instincts screaming at him to protect first - but also to breed.

He doesn't want to hurt you though, knows it's a very vulnerable situation for you. You're so ashamed, you beg him to leave you alone between two pained whimpers. Still, he stays by your side, craddle you into his arms, hoping the smell of an alpha might help you feel just a little bit better. He has to fight the primal part of his brain that wants to fuck you senseless, but he soldiers on, keeps you against him until you calm down, whispering how it's gonna be alright.

#alpha omega #captain price fanfic #captain john price #price x reader #cod fanfiction #captain price x reader #omegaverse

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mlmxreader · 4 months

Text

Are You Ready? | John Price x gn!reader (🍋)

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Price

35 “One of my biggest regrets was not telling you how much I loved you sooner” ❞

: ̗̀➛ Price is finally home, and you can't quite believe it.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, anal fingering, dry humping, dirty talk, Daddy kink, praise kink

: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You fidgeted uncomfortably in your bed, tossing and turning all night whilst the television continued to play quietly, bathing the entire room in a dull blue light; beside you, Price hardly even stirred, hardly even paused as he slept so soundly beside you.

Completely and utterly knocked out from recently coming home from deployment; he was exhausted, in all honesty, but who could blame him?

When he had spent days looking into the eyes of boys hardly older than fifteen, blank and lifeless stares glaring into his soul; when he spent hours hunched over a desk and writing letter after letter to mothers and fathers, telling them that their babies had died. That their babies who would never return home to loving embraces, to hot home cooked meals and to soft, kind and loving words.

When he had spent days marching in mud up to his knees, blisters on his feet, sores on his legs and burns on his fingertips; endless miles of mud, with only rats, fleas and lice to keep him company. After all of that, who could ever say that he was to blame for being so tired, for being so fucking exhausted?

Who could ever say that he was to blame?

But unlike Price, you couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that you were upset, or that you were tormented by anything, but it was the mere fact that you were just so happy to have him home; you were fucking giddy to have him home, you just couldn’t settle down. It was uncomfortable to lie in bed, but it was so good to have Price home at last.

All you wanted to do was jump on him and scream in his face about how much you had missed him; but you knew that he needed to rest, so you did try and keep yourself a little bit calmer than what you would have wanted. But you couldn’t believe it.

You felt him shift beside you, a harsh groan coming from the back of his throat as his hand drifted down, grabbing your ass and pulling you flush against his body.

“I missed you,” Price grumbled sleepily, pulling you on top of him and gently rocking his hips against you. “Y’know that, right?”

Your hands went to his chest as you pushed back against him, nodding as a breathy moan left your lips. “Four years tomorrow, baby… four years together, and I miss you more and more every time.”

He pushed his hips up against you, grinding. “Four years, and one of my biggest regrets was not telling you how much I loved you sooner.”

You swallowed thickly, pushing down your pyjama bottoms to expose yourself to him, moaning softly when he slipped his ring and middle fingers into your ass, slowly pumping them in and out as you whimpered for him to keep going. “John… fuck…”

“You like that?” He breathed out, and when you agreed, he picked up the pace. Fucking you with his fingers as he felt you clamp down around his thick fingers. “‘M gonna fuck you and fill that pretty little ass… make you so fuckin’ full…”

“Unf!” You squeezed your eyes tightly shut for a moment, hips bucking as you ground down against his fingers, your mouth falling agape and giving him the perfect excuse to capture your mouth with his.

Sucking your tongue before grabbing the back of your neck and harshly grinding against you; you could only whimper, so needy and desperate for him that all your words seemed to fail so miserably, so terribly.

All you could think about was how good his cock would look buried inside your ass, slick with lube and hammering into you; how good his cock would feel as it stretched you until you could hardly take it anymore, until you were sobbing and biting down on the bedsheet as it became wet and squelched with your spit and tears.

“You thinkin’ about it?” Price huffed, gently nibbling at your neck. “How good my cock would look as I bend you over and fuck you… you’re gonna look so good when I stuff you full of my cum… you’re gonna look so good…”

You let out a harsh breath, shuddering against him as you felt it wash over you; your legs shook harshly, thighs trembling as you bucked against him and allowed yourself to let loose at last. Sharp short breaths coming from your mouth as you fucked yourself against his fingers. Your eyes shut tightly, you could feel yourself coming undone as you thought more about it.

The slapping of skin, the smell of sex filling the room, the sounds of grunts and growls and soft whimpers. The feeling of his skin on yours; Price grumbled softly under his breath, slipping his hand to you and letting your cum coat his skin as he tilted his head back slightly.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised softly. “Cum for me, c'mon.”

“D-Daddy,” you gasped out, trying to fuck yourself against him even more desperately, wanting to feel it all over again. “Please… please… wanna… wanna cum twice…”

“Oh, baby,” he breathed out, pulling his fingers from your ass and flipping you onto your back. He settled between your legs, his hands on your thighs as he grinned tiredly. “Do you want my cock, now?”

You nodded desperately, mouth agape and drool slipping from the corner. “Please…”

“Yeah?” He whispered, gently tracing your jaw. “You sure you can take it?”

“John,” you growled softly, tugging at him. “Please don't be a tease…”

Licking his lips, Price smiled down at you, attacking your neck as he kissed and bit and sucked at the skin until you were bucking your hips against him, begging for him. “Four years together, and you've never been hotter than you are right now.”

You laughed softly, playfully slapping his chest and rolling your eyes fondly. “Four years, and I've never wanted you to fuck me as much as I need you to right now.”

“I see your point,” he growled out, palming at himself for a moment. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

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kjmalfoy · 11 months

Text

Masterlist

🌹- Smut/NSFW 🌺- Fluff/SFW 🥀- Angst/SFW 🌸- Not Done

Marvel Series <3

Bucky Barnes ->

Sugar Daddy!Bucky Barnes

Sugar Daddy - 🌹

Million Dollar Baby - 🌹🌸

Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes

Filthy Criminal - 🌹

Vanilla Bourbon - 🌹

HouseWife!Reader

Polka Dotted Dress - 🌹

Cherry Pie - 🌹🌸

MW2 Series <3

John Price ->

Daddy Issues!Asshole Price

Fatherly Love - 🥀

Fatherly Love Pt2- 🥀

Abuse of Power!Commanders

Superiors- 🌹🌸

Barracks Bunny Reader

Barracks Bunni- 🌹🌸

Price!Headcannons

Being in a relationship w/ Price- 🌺

Dirty dancing w/ Price- 🌹

Resident Evil Series <3

Leon S. Kennedy ->

Therapist Leon Kennedy Series

Melancholy Love; Prologue- 🌺🥀

Melancholy Love; First Session- 🌺🥀🌸

Peaky Blinders Series <3

Thomas Shelby ->

Boss!Thomas Shelby

The Bar Maid- 🌹🌸

Five Nights at Freddy’s Series <3

Mike Schmidt ->

Submissive!Mike Schmidt

Sweet Nothings- 🌹🌸

Overworked!Mike Schmidt

Fuzzy Pajamas- 🌺🌸

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priceseyes · 1 month

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John Price. | Detective.

Interlinked - A Cyberpunk/Detective COD AU.

interlinked tag. | playlist.

#v: interlinked #cod #call of duty #captain price #captain john price #cod mw2 #cod mw #cod mw3 #mw trilogy #cod moodboard #cod au #cod fanfic #cod fanfiction #john price fanfic #captain price fanfiction #captain price fanfic

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patrollingboston · 2 months

Note

Hiya! Could you write a fic where we have to share a bed with Price?

Much love ❤️

An awkward conversation // Price x reader fluff

guilty pleasure one bed trope, this is not meant to be realistic!

After completing gruelling week on a mission, You, Gaz, Soap and Price were headed back to the pickup location to take you all back to base. The conversations being shared were short and snappy due to everyone’s exhaustion. Gaz was fast asleep snoring like bear and it was driving you insane. Soap had earphones in as Captain Price drove along the long stretch of road ahead whilst you were directing him from the passenger seat.

A loud crackle buzzed through everyone’s radio; Gaz snapped awake as everyone focussed on the voice on the other end of the radio.

“Bravo 0-6?”

“Price, you there?”

“What is it Laswell?”

Price held down the button on his radio whilst his eyes remained focused on the road ahead. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel occasionally looking over at you. Everyone’s curiosity was peaked as the mission was over, why would Laswell need to contact them now?

“Nikolai has a problem with exfil, his helicopter has needed some uh, um emergency maintenance. We can’t fly you back to base until tomorrow morning, can you all find a motel nearby just to rest up for a night?”

“Oh, fucking hell- “

Gaz groaned, Soap joining him. You flopped your head back against the headrest in protest. Everyone just wanted to go home, sleep in their own beds, eat normal warm food and be alone.

“Is there no other option? I think we all just want to be back ASAP Laswell.”

“Fraid’ not, earliest we can get to you is 8am tomorrow.”

“Alright, we will sort something out.”

Price said taking his hand off the steering wheel for a second to rub his temples, you glanced over noticing how tired his eyes looked. Everyone’s did.

With that statement the radio cut off. Everyone’s eyes were on Price as he was magically going be able to solve the issue.

“Well, what’s the plan?”

Soap chimed in, peeking his head round from the back of the car.

“There’s a cheap motel not too far, look we aren’t going to be there long. It’s already late, it’s just to clean up and get some rest. I know it’s not ideal.”

“I’m sure we can survive one more night, at least it will be warm?”

You spoke, trying to lift the mood of your fellow soldiers only to be met by awkward silence.

Price tapped on his phone to get directions to the motel. He was right about needing to clean up. Everyone was in their gear, dirt and mud were splashed over everyone’s clothes and face.

“I miss real food.”

Gaz said, Soap nodded in agreement as he began bumbling on about a restaurant near his house.

10 minutes later the car pulled up into the carpark for the motel. There wasn’t much to say about it, it didn’t look too bad from the outside but in your current state of tiredness you would sleep in a bed made of cardboard.

“Gaz, Soap go get us rooms, we will unload the car.”

Price ordered, Gaz and Soap split off entering the reception as you and him began lugging in everyone’s duffel bags. It was quite sparse, a few potted plants and a strikingly red carpet that frankly was hurting your weary eyes.

“Cap? They only have 2 rooms.”

You placed the bag down you were carrying and peered over to soap who was stood speaking to the receptionist.

Price sighed so loudly you could hear it from across the room.

“Well, we can go two and two, or we can take a chance on the other motel, think it was about 20 minutes away.”

You stepped over the pile of bags to join the conversation.

“I don’t mind sharing, please I just want to shower and lie down.”

You said rubbing your eyes, smearing the warpaint from earlier.

“Who goes with who?”

You suddenly felt everyone’s gaze on you.

“You pick F/N you’re the only woman here.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

You teased as you watched Gaz’s face drop.

“No that’s not what I meant, c’mon.”

You weighed the pros and cons of each person in your head, quickly ruling out soap for how often he liked to flirt with people, that could never end well. Gaz was an option? But you recently discovered he snores and you needed sleep. That only left Price, your captain. You didn’t mind him, in fact over time you had grown quite fond of him despite his grumpy attitude and hat collection.

“I’ll go with Price.”

Price’s eyes widened ever so subtly; it seemed like he was taken back you chose him. His face quickly returned back to normal but you still managed to see the change in it.

A few moments later you stood outside in the hallway shoulder to shoulder with price as he wrestled with the dodgy room key.

“Sonofa- got it.”

He said before cracking a little smile and barging the door open.

You stepped inside looking at the (one again bright red) carpet laden with cigarette burns, you shrugged the bags onto the floor before going into the rest of the room and standing beside price who looked to be in deep in thought. You followed his gaze to find it.

One bed.

One bed that looks like it was made of concrete, with white ruffled sheets and 2 sad pillows.

Your stomach sunk, you had read about this in books and seen it in films and now it was happening to you.

You gulped loudly, praying Price didn’t sense your hesitation.

“I’ll sleep on the floor- “

He said sharply, it caught you off guard. What do you do now? Do you object? Do you share the bed? Do you let him stay on the floor?

“No, I know you’re just as tired as me, I don’t care, please.”

You said gesturing to the bed. He turned around and gave you a kind smile before he sat on the end and started removing his boots.

“I’m going to hop in the shower.”

He nodded as you stepped into the backroom locking the door behind you. That shower might have been the most heavenly experience of your life. Washing away weeks build-up of dirt on yourself. The warm water flowed down your back; you could have stayed in there forever. You stepped out wrapping the white towel around yourself as you reached for your bag. You searched through it trying to find something you could comfortably sleep in. Most stuff in there needed a wash as it was covered in dirt or sweat. You cursed under your breathe as you unlocked the bathroom door and peeked your head out.

“Hey Price?”

He was sat on the bed with his arms folded across his chest, intently watching the little crappy tv.

“Mhm?”

He said his gaze finding you, you could have sworn his eyes faltered and fell up and down you. Pushing back down the blush creeping up your cheeks you responded.

“Do you have anything I could sleep in? My stuff is all uh in need of a wash.”

“Oh, um let me look.”

He hopped off the bed and bent over to rummage around in his backpack before throwing you a khaki green shirt.

“That work?”

“Cheers.”

You closed the bathroom door again before changing into the shirt. It hung below your knees like a nightgown. It was so comfy compared to the mountains of gear you had been wearing for the previous week. It smelt like him too, it was comforting.

You walked into the room; Price had changed now. He was wearing a tight-fitting grey shirt and some baggy shorts. You had never seen him this casual, it was weird but you also liked it however you couldn’t deny how good he looked in his gear too but you would never let anyone know you thought this.

You peered over at the clock.

1:23

Price was just beginning to pull back the duvet on the left side of the bed. Would it be awkward if you did the same? God, it felt like watching an awkwardly married couple get into bed. You both climbed into the bed, the space between you was almost amusing, it was clear you were both trying to avoid one another.

“Night F/N.”

He grumbled, shuffling around to get comfy.

“Night!”

You chirped back, your voice slightly breaking in doing so.

The both of you were so tired you fell straight asleep.

You woke up to some movement beside you in the early hours of the morning. Your eyes fluttered trying to gather your surroundings only to find yourself wrapped in someone’s arms. Realizing whose arms, it was you were torn on what to do. You decided to stay still, letting yourself take in the warmth. You lay there comfortably, his breathe tickling the top of your head as you fell asleep trying not to think about the awkward conversation this would lead to next morning.

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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

Text

Kitchen Quickies (1 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

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

Word Count: 948

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

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

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

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

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

Frowning, you turn to the left and immediately laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Think we made that third?” you tease.

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

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

taglist:

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

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dmitriene · 16 days

Text

john price didn't intend to be someone's sugar daddy, not knowing that well what it means, and not even planning to join a relationship — yet, that's till he meet you on a dating app his lads almost begged him to install.

or they even installed it themselves, taking his phone while they were off in some country pub, and it wouldn't hurt to open it at least once, price thought.

indeed, it wouldn't, because that's how he found you — the sweetest, soft thing his eyes ever fell upon and seen, reminiscent so much of all the images and scenarios he often dreamed about, but always pushed further away.

john thought you looked like a proper sunshine itself, well mannered darling with toothy smiles and small, yet so sweet description of yourself, and this is the first situation in his life in which he did not think twice, before deciding to write to you straight away.

he's an old man, price is a captain inside and out, with warm heart and sincere smiles, yet bloody hands and fucked up head — he's seen everything, experienced everything, which made him the jonathan price he is right now, and still, it didn't pushed you away a tad bit.

all the time you were such a sweetheart, from the text's in the app and down the road to the first meeting, and if john didn't experience falling in love before — that was it.

it started by itself, after the first meeting there was another, with each of them you became closer and closer not only mentally, but also physically, and against the background of falling in love with you, there's responsibility that began to shallow.

john wanted to pamper you — pay for your lunches together at every meeting, then for your grocery's delivery, then it moved to fixing some little financial issues you had or even buying you something you couldn't afford right now, all of this was just for you, and you hadn't to do anything to receive it.

he had a good amount of money, the one he didn't exactly know where to spend, but there's you — you help john relax on hard days, take care of his health, comfort him when things don't go as they should, and wait for every new message from him while he's away on another mission.

shouldn't he repay to you for being his little pocket sunshine?

his, he always thinks and says, yet you don't exactly belong to him, you never talked about what exactly are you two — friends, lovers, or something else, because price never voiced his feelings and never crossed any possible boundaries, until you did it first.

a little kiss on the stubbled cheek to thank him for buying you some silly things you wanted so much recently, a warm hug against his bulky body, an innocent act of holding hands.

before it turns into messy tongue kisses, squeezing grasps of calloused palms, itchy mustache rubbing against soft flesh of your neck, sucking blooming marks to form a patch down your shoulders and to your cleavage, kissing, biting, moving away unnecessary clothing that gets into john's way.

you became his entirely, body and soul, with buzzing warmth inside your stomach and pleasurable soreness between your doughy thighs, with red marks both from price's fingers and beard, while waking up huddled under his heavy arm and under cool, silky sheets of his spacious bed.

john price fell in love with you completely and irrevocably, just as you in him — welcoming him home each time with soft touches and featherlight kisses, freshly cooked meal and tidy environment, light giggles and sincere words of love and adoration.

a dream come true, a place for him to return to, with light walls that hold only precious memories, with your gasping mewls that reverberate here at night.

from his grounding touches, soft roll of his broad hips when he nestles against your back at nights and curl his hands over the curve of your waist, hoisting your leg to probe against your sopping warmth, burrowing inside your gummy walls softly as john nuzzles his face against your shoulder blades.

price adores you, without planning it all in the first place, but now he is sure that he would not have refused to meet you in any of the circumstances.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

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youronlydarlin · 3 months

Text

warning: crack! Local old man Price being drunk in love with you literally, Gaz being a bit sassy, Gaz being a cutie pie, fluffy

Never in your life did you think that you'd be getting a frantic call from Gaz in the late hours of the night. Telling you to come get the Captain's drunk ass from the pub.

It seemed almost out of character. But Price is struggling to keep himself upright while his arm is slinged over Kyle's shoulder, who looks like he's about ready to cry. You could compare yourself to an angel with the way Kyle looks at you as if you just took all his problems away. He slowly moves the Captain down to the floor, muttering something to him before helping him sit upright. And he doesn't even argue, looking like one of the passed out drunks in the dark alleyways.

Kyle rushes to your side and braces himself by holding on to both sides of your shoulder. He looks, and acts as if an angry mob carrying a bunch of pitchforks were just hot on his trail, quickly looking back to Price then to you, Price. Then, you again. You open your mouth to say something, before he beats you to it.

" You don't know know, but those folks in there were glaring at me like they wanted me DEAD."

He accentuates his words with quite a rough shake to your shoulders, making your vision swim for a moment.

"All because he."

Points an accusatory finger at Price.

"Wouldn't stop talkin' bout you."

The finger is now pointed at your chest. And he pants like that explanation just drained years from his life. You feel sorry, really. Though you weren't the one getting smashed in a pub, it still somehow felt like you had somewhat of a responsibility to keep your lover away from causing a disturbance.

So you tell Kyle a quick sorry, and a ‘I'll make it up to you, I swear. Which he teasingly answers with a 'you, better. Gesturing over to Price, Kyle gives you a nod before you two make your way over to the drunken man to help him on his feet. Even with both of your strengths combined it still proves as a tough job to make Price stand up. He's slightly slurring his words, something along the lines of "Piss off, m' taken..." You don't know. It's hard to make out anything when he's resting his whole weight on both of you. Nearly falling over when he almost trips on his own pair of wobbly legs.

It feels like you just had a boulder off your back when you finally managed to get him into the backseat of your parked car. Both you and Gaz taking a moment to straighten your backs, free from the suffocating weight of the man who's physique is comparable to a bear.

You feel even worse when Kyle immediately slumps to the passenger seat. You hope the night hasn't drained him out much, but by the looks of it, he's probably exhausted. Taking a moment to breath, you try and wrack your brain for a reason on why this happened in the first place. Or more rather, why Price decided to suddenly drink himself to oblivion. Climbing into the drivers seat you offer a small tired smile to Kyle which he offers back.

"M' really sorry for the trouble he's caused.."

He gives a breathy chuckle. Looking slightly guilty himself.

"Don't be. I should've taken it as a bad sign when the Captain's already downed three shots in a minute.."

You both laugh at that, before Kyle tips his head to the Price's direction. Oh yeah, better check up on him. You turn in your seat to get a better view of your lover. He has his head down, fisherman hat slightly obscuring his handsome face, and you really can't stay mad at him. Not like you were even mad in the first place. You're sure he has his reasons.

"Hey, hubby..."

You say, and it sounds so gentle, and soft that it's immediately grabbed at his attention. You try and place a hand on his thigh, when all of a sudden he smacks it away.

...

You're left dumbfounded, eyes blown wide. And Gaz looks as every bit as surprised as you are. Mouth agape, hand slightly hovering over it like he had just witnessed a scandal.

"My partner's gonna get mad if you touch me like that, and m' not interested."

He stubbornly says. Turning his face, and body away from you like a child throwing a tantrum.

You have half a mind to hit him on the head for not recognizing you. But you'd rather not start anything in the car, especially in front of Gaz who looks like he's just watched both of his parents fight.

You sigh, admitting defeat, and starting the car, opting to just let Price explain once he's sober. Minutes pass and you're on your way home, Kyle's tapping away on his phone. Occasionally chatting with you, and aside from the fact that Price is now squeezing himself on the farthest corner of the vehicle to get away from you, you can say that the atmosphere's a lot less tense now. More bearable, at least.

You try communicating with Price again. See if he'll give you a proper answer this time.

"You know, never did l think I'd see you absolutely shitfaced after a night out in the pub.."

You say to him. Surprisingly, he answers you. Albeit a bit gruffly, considering his alcohol induced state.

"Jus' didn't wanna get cold feet.."

"From what..?"

"My proposal..."

"What kind of proposal..?"

"The one with a ring..."

You almost crash the car.

a/n: UHHHHH. If you guys don't get the ending it's because reader thought that Price ment a business proposal or something but he was actually just nervous to ask them to marry him. Sorry if this was confusing 😭. Once again, practicing my fluff, n english skills. So this might be bad. But M' getting better, I think! Ne ways, hope you're having a better day/night, my loves!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

#cod imagine #cod x reader #cod x reader fluff #price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price fluff #captain price x you #captain price fanfic #I LOVE HIM #i love him sm

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

Text

Loba

Pairing: John Price x GN!Reader

TW: Some gore description. Thats it, i think.

WC: 2.4k

There was something odd about you, John Price's neighbor. To the untrained eye, you were an average person. But John's been a sniper longer than he's been captain, which meant he was perspicacious. His ability to intake information and process it was second to none. And so, he'd like to think he knew what he saw when you once looked at him in passing. The eyes of something that sits atop the food chain.

Yet, he can't help but doubt himself. You're a small thing. Soft, plush, comely. You greet everyone with a smile. Bake homemade chocolate chip cookies for the surrounding neighbors on occasion. Sit on your knees, digging your fingers into damp soil, planting flowers in the garden. Had it been a trick of the light? He supposed it didn't matter. As much as you intrigued him, you had a partner you sent off to work with a polite kiss on the cheek and lunch bag in hand every day. Ordinary.

Until one day, normal turned abnormal.

John liked to sit on his porch, tea in hand, and people-watch. He hid it under the guise of reading the paper so he wouldn't put people off— but he liked to be observant. And being observant meant knowing the routines of his surrounding neighbors. So, John noticed that your partner hadn't been home in two weeks. And you, his pretty little neighbor, are irate. Slamming the front door closed after taking out the trash, hands digging into the planting soil with such ferocity he'd think it was hiding treasure, and not one greeting to anyone. Not even him.

And that definitely didn't sting, he tells himself. You were unavailable and clearly in love if your temper as of late had anything to say about it.

One afternoon, John is sitting outside in his customary spot when he watches your car pull up into the driveway and park. You open the driver's door with such force that he thinks it's about to come off the hinges and get out with furrowed brows, narrowed eyes, and lips firmly pressed together.

Oh? That's a first. Granted, John's deployed a lot so he's not home all the time, but he's never seen you this upset since you moved in next door 6 months ago.

Your partner hops out of the passenger side and runs up behind you, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Honey, please, forgive-," and John watches you turn around, get in their face, and snarl— like a dog ready to fight. Teeth bared in evident hostility, the skin on your nose scrunched up in fury. You look unreservedly feral, John thinks.

He hears you let out an animalistic growl before you notice John sitting on his porch. Pivoting on the balls of your feet, you stalk towards the house not waiting for your partner to follow.

If John coughed to cover the chuckle he let out at the sight of your partner scrambling behind you like a pathetic puppy, he'd never admit it.

Later that evening, John hears frantic pounding on his front door, and he freezes. It's almost midnight. He can't help but think that his enemies have found him, so he quietly moves to his bookshelf and grabs his loaded handgun. Pulling the slide back to chamber a round, he moves to cover when he hears a recognizable voice alongside the knocking.

"Please, Mr. Price, I only want to ask you something!"

With the handgun behind his back, he approaches cautiously, before undoing the locks and cracking it open a smidge. It's your partner, and they look jumpy.

"This is not an appropriate hour to be knocking on doors, by the way," he grumbles.

"I know, Mr. Price, and I apologize but I had an emergency."

John frowns. "I'm not the coppers."

"I just had a quick question for you."

He points the gun as he opens the door wider, finger on the trigger while still holding the firearm out of sight of your partner on the other side.

"Right, then. What is it?"

"I wanted to ask if you've seen my partner. They still haven’t come back and they've been gone since before I got home. I already called to file a missing person report."

John clenches his jaw.

"No, I haven't. I'll keep an eye out for you, though. Now, if you'd excuse me."

"Yes, of course. Have a good night, Mr. Price."

Closing the door, he tightens the grip on his gun. John is an interrogation expert. Reading body language is his second nature— so he wonders why they lied about calling the police.

In the morning, John goes out to ask if you'd come home when he notices you in the yard gardening with a pleased smile on your lips. His heart stutters at the sight. Oh, how lovely you looked taking care of your home. What he'd do to have a person like you for him to come back to— that he wishes it was you is a secret he's taking to his grave.

John shakes his head and clears his throat to catch your attention and you turn your head.

"Mr. Price, Good morning!", you greet.

Walking over to stand next to your kneeled form, he says, "Good morning, love. I'm only wanting to check up on you. Your partner came over late and seemed very distraught at your disappearance."

You purse your lips in annoyance. Interesting.

"I'm so sorry. I hope they didn't wake you, Mr. Price."

"Not at all, love, I tend to stay up late. And please, it's John."

You curl your mouth into a dimpled, teasing smile— enchanting him.

"Alright, John."

The way you said his name so alluringly is going to haunt him in his dreams, he knows it. With flaming cheeks, John pulls at his facial hair to distract himself from the direction his thoughts take.

"Right," he swallows hard, "Well. I—uh, figure that you didn't want your partner to know where you were, so be aware that you could always tell me anything. If only to know that you aren't missing."

He hears you sigh before taking off your gardening gloves and moves to stand when John reaches his hand out to assist and you take it. Your hand is so tiny in his, it makes him reluctant to let go. Dusting your pants, you say, "They knew where I'd be going. They've been letting me starve, and I'm ravenous." And your eyes look up to his.

There it is again. That predatory gaze. Like you'd eat him whole.

"I don't—" and you cut him off.

"I've got to take care of myself. I'm not going to sit around hungry, and I can't eat apologies."

Tipping your head to the side, you open your mouth to tell him something when the both of you are startled by a car honk. John quickly moves to block your body with his, the need to protect being instinctual, when he realizes that it's your partner in front of the driveway— and they do not look pleased.

John feels your hand on his bicep as you step around him, and he feels the egotistical urge to flex.

"Seems like I'm needed elsewhere. It was a pleasure speaking with you."

He looks at you with ocean-blue eyes and murmurs, "Pleasure's all mine, love. Remember what I said."

John follows the movement of your hand tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before you say, "You'll be the first person I go to, John", and you jump again at another honk.

He sees your eyes flick from him to the car and back at him— and the toothy smile you give him sends dread, like molasses, down his spine.

"I'll be seeing you, then."

And then you're getting into the car and closing the door with a slam, tires screeching on the pavement. Gone.

As John walks back to his house, he tries hard to not think back on your pointed ears, or how sharp your canine teeth had been, or how your pupils had dilated when looking at your partner— like a predator catching sight of its prey.

It's the witching hour, and John startles awake to breaking glass and some crashing from next door. Your house. Ripping the blanket off of him, he sprints to his closet and slips on some sweats and laces on his boots before taking out his NATO rifle— heading towards the back of his house. He slips out through the back door and walks up to the fence separating his backyard and yours. John slings the rifle to his back and jumps, fingers hooking over the edge of the fence, and climbs over it.

On light feet, he crouch-walks while aiming the rifle at your house fully alert. His ears pick up some human whimpering, and then a deep, low rumble that sends vibrations into his chest. What is that?

Clenching his teeth, he walks up and peers into the door window and his blood freezes in his veins. The house is a mess. Glass litters the floor, and the dining room table is splintered into pieces. Some blood splattered on the walls and smeared on the kitchen tiles. He turns the door handle, and it opens. Unlocked.

John thinks the worst has happened. A home invasion turned homicide. That he'll find your body lying in a pool of blood. Your normally captivating eyes lifeless. He shakes himself of his mild panic— now is not the time. Walking further into your home, boots softly crunching on debris, he spots your partner on the living room floor.

And they're bloody with injuries, trembling violently. John runs up to them and grabs their shoulder.

"Are you alright?!" he shouts. But your partner isn't responding, rather looking unblinkingly into a darkened hallway. John notices and swiftly aims his rifle down the hall. Then he hears or rather feels, another vicious guttural growl. Then he spots two glowing orbs in the dark like reflective tape shining with artificial light.

The orbs then rise, almost to the ceiling, and draw near slowly. John can't remember the last time he froze during a tense altercation, but then again, whatever the hell that is, isn't something he's ever dealt with in combat. He's snapped out of his reverie when the figure is lit up by the living room light and his jaw drops.

It's something out of stories. Tall, human body-shaped covered in black fur standing on two legs. Large human hands tipped with curved claws. Saliva dripping from its bared teeth and extra-long canines. Golden eyes with black slits and a long, scrunched snout. A werewolf.

Your partner screams before scrambling to hide behind John's body like a shield.

"Please! I didn't mean—", their pleading is cut off by another ferocious growl. John looks up at the werewolf and instantly recognizes those eyes. He's seen them before, on you— his cute little neighbor.

John remembers saying once that if you cannot recognize the target, you are the target. And those molten-gold eyes weren't looking at him but rather behind him. The werewolf's long arm reaches out to touch John's shoulder, slightly pushing him to the side. Its intent is clear— It's a predator on the hunt.

He shuffles out of the way and witnesses the werewolf wrap one clawed hand around your partner's ankle and yank— pulling them into the darkness. John hears them wailing, pleading for their life. Sees them clawing at the floor trying to stop the drag of their body but to no avail.

Not even a minute later, there's a sickening crunch and then the screaming stops— nothing but John's heavy breathing, soft gnashing of teeth, and more bones breaking. He slowly gets up from the ground and waits. For what, he doesn't know.

John then hears a door open and close. Something sounds like sticks being snapped into place, a loud muffled whimper, and then a door opening again. Out steps you, wrapped in a blanket with your hands and mouth dripping blood. Exhaling, he slowly walks up to you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"That was you, then," he questions and you nod.

John sucks in a breath before asking another question.

"Why did you eat them?"

"They took the role of handler yet wanted me human. Domesticated. Shoved in a closet during a full moon. As if that could stop me."

You lock eyes with John, pupils blown wide open.

"Besides, no man can tame a predator by acting like prey."

He nods, head hanging low, conceding. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders and the other on your lower back, he kneels and with a grunt picks you up— carrying you out the front door.

"Let's get over to my house, I'll have this taken care of."

John feels your warm breath against his neck and grips your body tighter. Unlocking the door, he steps inside and deposits you on his couch, then jogs to his bedroom and gets his phone. He's tapping the screen when he hears you.

"John, I'm still hungry."

He stops and closes his eyes for a second, before moving to the door and holding it open.

Looking at you with a stony gaze, he says, "You will be home before daybreak. Not a minute later. Do I make myself clear?"

You nod and run up to him. Picking up his hand, you press his open calloused palm onto your cheek— nuzzling it— and give it a bloodied kiss, before running out and disappearing into the night.

John raises his hand to look at his palm and closes it tight. He already has blood on his hands, what's a little more. Back to his phone, he dials a number and puts it up to his ear.

"Simon. Yeah, I know it's late. Listen, I need you to come over. There's some cleaning up we have to do. Bring a mop." and hangs up.

If holding on to your leash is how you stay with him, then he's holding it with an iron fist and never letting go. Although, it'd probably be a good idea to move away from this neighborhood if he wants to show off his cute little neighbor wife.

A/N: I got inspired by shakira's song ofc. love it. Thank you to my beta for gassing it up. You a real one.

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

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 7 months

Text

Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Chapter 5: Trying To Keep An Eye

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same.

Content warnings: Usual COD content (violence, torture, death, guns), mutual pining, back from the dead, friends to allies to lovers, Reader is GN, some use of Y/N.

Chapter 4 // Masterlist // AO3 Version // Chapter 6

Within two hours, you had a new safe-house: a bungalow in Pethklin. It was a five hour drive away, and an hour’s hike to the garage that Laswell arranged for your vehicle to be dropped off at. Fair play to her, she was making magic out of thin air – even if it was an unreliable Land Rover that choked on its own fumes.

Since Soap was one of the few you put on sleep first, he took the chance to drive. A couple of your team started kipping, either pressed against the window or with their head lolled. You stayed awake, as did Gaz and Ghost. Your mind had yet to come down from the ledge it had scaled in its adrenaline-addled state. Your stare darted from the rocky countryside slipping into marshy fields between checking on your team, trusting that they’d reported all injury and were still fit to continue. After the revelation of the budding romance within the unit, the shaken trust within you was still trying to find its feet. It would do so by the first hour mark into the journey, when you had to stop so that Soap could swap with you. Somehow having your entire team physically within your hands as you held steady the steering wheel made you feel better. The rumble of the engine and snoring behind you vibrated against your palms.

The next safe-house itself was a dusty dreary sort of place, but its offerings were ones welcomed with open arms and a couple of sneezes that cleared your head completely – like they switched you on and off again.

A fragment of you wanted to sleep desperately, but first you demanded your team rest up for the following few hours. You were met without complaint and soon the room was filled with snoring, plus the occasional scraping of a fork against a mess tin. Meanwhile, you were required to catch-up with Laswell and Fernandez, who’d used drones to track the chosen few soldiers who’d made it out of the forest alive.

“They retreated to the warehouse to lick their wounds. Then it was destroyed with them in it by long-range missile about just minutes ago.”

Čiernik was never the type to blow things up in order to cover his tracks. It must’ve been Shepherd’s efforts. Apparently his slapdash attempts at covering his tracks clearly had been used the same methods before in the 141’s experience; it was kinda funny that his instinct was to blow up the evidence, drawing more attention to his dirty secrets. At least it would theoretically make him easier to track.

Rereading the sheets of paper that Gaz had recovered, and yours too, fuelled the hopes of getting further links to Shepherd and this whole mess. Once the team were down for a round of sleeping/eating, you set up the computers to get on call with the data. It was making your head hurt so you knocked back an MRE – Bolognese, your second favourite – and scheduled yourself in for a nap after the call. Thank God it perked you up slightly. Within the hour, Laswell came in clutch with more intel that had flourished from what you’d discovered.

“General Shepherd bought a place in Odristan using the same offshore account three years ago. It’s the one you found the floor plans of.”

“Laswell, you’re an absolute delight!” You declared to her pixelated form onscreen. She dismissed your compliment, but you knew what you had said was both warranted and honest.

You double-checked the sensors outside of the safe-house once the call ended, thanking Laswell again for finding you such a place with technology available to get your sleep schedule right again. Ghost was still on watch though. He insisted on it, in fact, parking himself at the window with his rifle’s scope.

Satisfied, you decided to take your official break, nearly bumping intoCrash on the way to your pack. She repelled from you like a magnet of opposite poles.

“Sorry,” She said quickly, ducking off to another part of the safe-house.

“’S alright,” you said half-heartedly, pushing the guilt over her sorrow down into your bag before resting your head on it and tucking yourself into the corner for the length of your slot.

It took a while for you to convince yourself to sleep. The sudden self-consciousness was rooted in reality, but you hoped that you were too tired to have any “dreams”. There’s a time and place for a nightmare. This was neither. Especially when the subject of many of those nightmares was contained in the same four walls as yourself. In the past, you’d caught yourself making a few unnerving sounds upon waking up, plus the sweat, the lingering dread, the exhaustion that followed you around like your shadow – only slightly more pathetic and tenacious. To do so in front of your team, plus Price? You had prided yourself on your compartmentalisation, but given how you’d been wavering about keeping your emotions mostly in check around that particular topic, you weren’t so sure. Especially after he’d saved your life.

You didn’t remember dropping off. But thank God any form of nightmare eluded you for once, in favour of a vision about Moore having afternoon tea with you and how he kept talking about the importance of harvesting pumpkins the second they were ripe. You had no idea if the dream ghost of Moore was correct on that front. Gardening was something you’d filed away for potential retirement hobbies.

Nevertheless, you woke up feeling slightly better than when your head hit your bag and with your laptop beeping for you to pay it some attention.

A cup appeared in your line of sight before you could turn off the make-shift alarm, and you tilted your head back to see that it was Price handing you a steaming coffee.

“Thank you, Captain,” you muttered before taking a sip.

Price straightened back up, “You’re welcome, Captain.” And he offered you a brief smile.

Asshole, you thought sarcastically whilst he walked away, smiling back but hiding it in your cup. Then you felt a pang of anxiety. You knew what over, and the ridicule you scolded yourself for feeling did not leave despite your best efforts. Because somehow, in its locked box, buried deep in the core of your being, hope began to strive for space to flourish. It was not welcome, and certainly not during a mission. The tremor in your hand forced your back up and the curve of your skull slow tap-tapping back on the wall to take a few disguised deep breaths, carefully watching Chance do press-ups between the sleeping Soap and Bronze on the other side of the room.

Focus returning through the smog of sleep, you tapped in your password, continuing the plan of the stakeout (take two).

That afternoon, you left one safe-house and went ahead without the next in mind. Instead, your destination was one end of the town Shepherd’s villa was located in Nemšiná – right on the Russian border. The villa itself, near the west side, was your target.

“Villa” gave the impression of some tucked-away, tidy little home. "Manor" was more accurate, carved in giant slabs of stone stacked. Using binoculars from the roof of a stack of apartments, you surveyed the gated area with security guards (no doubt well-trained officers dressed up as mall cops) patrolling the entrances. Lush lawns seemed to have their grass cut using a ruler, though the sprinklers were currently off the clock. Low lights illuminated the homestead up its many floors. Through lace curtains were shadows of armed folks, though they sauntered about without a care of who might spot them, sipping from martini glasses and whiskey tumblers. This entire setting felt a bit flash for Čiernik’s tastes.

And yet, there he was: standing upon one of the balconies, second floor, sipping from a port glass and talking on a burner phone.

“Target located,” You reported Fernandez.

“Bravo team and Sierra team will meet you at the rendezvous point in half an hour. And Captain, I want him - dead or alive.”

About time you got your hands dirty.

“Copy that.”

Evening drew in fast and shrouded you all in the darkness required to hide your deeds from the world.Your team grew in size beyond Nemšiná’s horizon, Bravo and Sierra’s helicopters landing miles away then bringing them to you in armoured vehicles of your own (with no trees in the way). Ten of their operators and your twelve made for an impressive combined unit, armed, trained by yourself and your chosen few, ready at your command.

“Bravo team, you’re on Captain Price taking the rear of the building. Sierra team, you’ll be with me breaking down the east side. Clear the building, take out his crew. This is capture or kill, so don’t go acting the hero if he’s got others with him.” You unfolded your arms, finding your automatic weapon with ease. “Right, let’s take him down.”

Locked and loaded, you drove your operatives over to the town, then dismounted onto foot at the outskirts.Passing by houses with darkened windows, the streets were too empty of all life. Not a drunk stumbling home, not a couple out on date night with arms’ linked, not even a stray cat. Boots on tar barely made a sound against the silent backdrop of Nemšiná.

You had barely broken a sweat when you skirted the perimeter of Čiernik’s villa. Three of you acted as one, grabbing the security guards and throttling them before swiftly depositing the bodies in the shrubbery lest any prying and unaccounted for eyes offer the garden a quick glance. As the final body hit the cushion of the earth, the whole team emerged as extensions of one another, each action reflexive as they entered the ground floor. You didn’t get that kind of relationship on a whim. You never take it for granted, and if the day came that you did, you’d welcome the bullet that’d strike you from the Earth for doing so.

Like parts of a well-oiled machine, the men inside were no match for your silent take downs. It was their fortune rather than your error that landed one bloke facing the door you entered, his surprise limited him to one shot aimed at you. Your instincts guided you below the level of the couch, the bullet missing narrowly before you put down your attempted killer, but your stealth was broken. Overhead, heavy footsteps began charging around.

“Pushing forwards, prepare for engagement,” You said down your radio, met back with a few

The next room handed you two men, aiming unprepared for yourself and Chance to take out fast. Each door revealed more of your targets and each time they were battered by your bullets with hardly any time to respond with their own. Up the stairs, you approached the next floor.

Just as the muzzle of your gun aligned with the end of the wall, something cracked around and into your vest, sending you reeling back. The spacing saved Chance behind you from being thrown off balance, and she fired a shotgun shell into the shoulder of your attacker. He dropped the sledgehammer- sledgehammer that he’d smacked into your chest right beside you. More than pissed off, you swiped his leg out from under him then, swiping his weapon, you crushed his windpipe with an almighty swing of the sledgehammer.

You dropped it sharpish, pointing to his head then yours with a cough, “Helmet would’ve meant an extra whack.”

More gunfire popped around the villa. Your gun fit neatly back into your hands, given back by Chance with a nod. Onwards you went, sweeping and clearing the floor, some of your team remaining in rooms to sift through any potential intel and dodging gunfire through the floor. You pushed on; Čiernik was not yet amongst the bodies you left in your wake.

Your comms crackled then Gaz’s voice rang out, “Bravo Six is down!”

Your hand leapt to your comms, “Where?”

“South sitting room, first floor-”

“Bravo-5, are you able to withdraw to administer first aid?” You fired on a man who’d sprinted around the corner, sending him to the afterlife before he’d had to chance to raise his weapon, “Gaz?”

There was a beep of his comms then a gunshot down the microphone.

Put your hand on Chance’s shoulder, “Continue upstairs, find Čiernik.”

“Got it,” Chance continued where you’d left off, taking the team through.

Doubling back took no time at all, even whilst still taking necessary precaution to check each corner and think “clear” through each room. A map of the building from your memory guided you through, but following the audible breadcrumbs of where the most gunfire was coming from would’ve sufficed had your brain failed you in its panic to prevent history from repeating.

Through a crack in the door, you saw Gaz flattened to the floor behind a frayed armchair, ripped apart and spewing fluff out the grey woven upholstery as unseen enemies fired. Balanced between slow enough to not draw any attention, but fast enough to aid your operator, you pushed the door open. Your new angle allowed you to give the enemy the same treatment as they gave the chair before you burst in and found Gaz had hidden Price along the overturned coffee table, drawing fire away from his injured Captain. Instantly, you saw the side of his helmet that had shattered under a high calibre bullet and another lodged in his vest.

“I’m good,” Price wheezed, loosening the grip on his gun to feel up his chest, attempting to retrieve his scissors.

“You and your fucking-” You snatched them off him.

“Bruised lung no doubt.”

With steady hands, you cut the strap of his helmet, tossing it aside to assess any damage, “Never mind your lung, don’t matter if you’ve got no bloody head.”

Price tried grabbing your hands from his head but you grappled tight, knowing that you might’ve caused more damage in your stubbornness. Gaz shone a torch into Price’s eyes and you watched the pupils dilate against the sound of your teams advancing without you.

“They need you, go! Gaz’s got me,” Price swatted again at you until he had your chin in a strong grip, “Nerve, go.”

You blinked and wrenched away from his gloved touch as your earpiece fed you a teammate’s voice with your current callsign contrasting the old in front of you: “Sierra-7, we’ve found Čiernik!” Then you ran away.

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AN: Thank you so much for your patience. I've left my job and started my teaching placement so it's all go ahead with me. Trying to make sure I find time to write my fics. Also I decided to rewrite chapter 6 and 7. But this will get finished by hook or by crook!

Other news, I'm going to see Boys From The Black Stuff in a few weeks! I'm so excited to see Barry perform since he's such a great actor and the reviews have been top notch. Plus my dad loves the OG show and it's very significant around the rise in working class dramaturgs and I wanna study it!! Do some deep dives!!

Tag-list: @mockerycrow and @entertain-my-lvst

#john price #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price fanfic #john price fanfic #captain price fanfic #captain price x reader #cod #cod fanfic #cod x reader #mw2 #my writing #r: gn #wc: >2k

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