#Callofduty

[schizo-bbgs]

(Task Force) SAS ghost

I wanted to draw a left-handed shooter setup (even adjusted the gas masks filter for this one :3) I'm pretty happy with the result!

[demonlattee]

Me showing you my husband Krueger's plushie

Art Challenge:

[m0chac0ffee]

"You know... Ghost..."

"Simon."

"Simon... I really thought you'd have darker hair. Not that I'm complaining about your hair, just not what I had in mind."

"What kind of hair color did you think I'd have?"

"Not sure, maybe like a dark brown or plain black."

"Hm."

"Black hair would've matched your whole 'Moody and Dark' vibe."

"Enough."

"Wouldn't you agree, though? But I think I'm getting used to your blonde hair..."

Simon sighed, then smirked behind his mask.

"You tire me."

"Yet you bear through it. Who's at fault here?"

[naconaco]

[eggnogs-art]

Made a doodle a while ago of them kissing 👉👈

[shxnigxmi]

[𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓!𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄] [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

That one scene from El Dorado that’s popular on COD TikTok right now—

c/w: giving ghost the gawk gawk (not detailed or specified), vulgar language, price is a cheeky devil, ghost is actually a tease beneath all that brooding and sadness— idc argue with the wall

🔞 MINORS/FEM!ALIGNED DNI 🔞

—

“Lieutenant!”

You gasped when you heard Price call for Ghost, the very same Ghost who’s covered in kiss marks courtesy of you, red and purple bruising spanning from his jaw to his neck and all the way down his chest and stomach. The very same Ghost who was kiss-drunk and delirious by your very loving and devoted attention. The very same Ghost who’s cock was all the way down your throat.

“Ghost!” Price called again, waltzing deeper into the armory. Fuck, you couldn’t get caught like this! Insubordination and fraternization were the start of a very long list of punishment awaiting you both if Price happened upon you two. I mean sure, you and Ghost had opted for the furthest and darkest back corner behind the wall of tactical vests, but still—

With another quiet gasp of surprise you pulled your mouth off his dick —much to his chagrin— and sat up quickly. He was quick to follow—

“The Captain!” You cried as you roughly pushed him back down to lying on the ground with a hand on his face. You felt only slightly bad about the impactful thud and loud pop in his back.

“Ow!” Ghost winced but sat up again, a cheeky grin on his face and eyes full of mirth that hung behind a cloud of lust within those rich brown irises.

“What’s the Cap gonna think if he finds you like this with me?” You panicked, of course you knew Price wouldn’t be the one to punish you both for this act of fraternization. And he wouldn’t really rat you out either.. maybe you were being a bit over dramatic but he could still dish out a harsh punishment if he felt like it was needed. And he was probably looking for Ghost because Ghost wasn’t supposed to be here with you right now. Especially not doing this— getting a quick blowjob from you in the back of the armory.

You narrowed your eyes as you clocked the arrogant and pleasured look on his stupidly handsome face.

“Lucky Ghost?”

“For the love of.. just, just— JUST—!”

You scrambled to get him into a decent enough state to stand before your Captain, pulling his mask back down, followed by his shirt to cover the marks on his skin, tugging up his boxers and jeans— harshly pulling up the zipper which he cried at when his junk was pinched at the expense of your rush.

When you heard Price getting closer you stood and pulled him up to his feet with a shocking amount of strength. Then, you were brushing his shirt and pants off and pushing him out of the dark corner— just as Price rounded the end of the corridor and spotted him.

“Ah, Simon.. there ya are.”

“Sir.”

Now, Price had known Simon for a long enough amount of time to notice the little things about him. And he was curious about the disheveled nature about him. It was well hidden to the untrained eye, and maybe to those not close enough to Simon to be able to pick out his tells. Like the way his jeans hadn’t been buttoned—

“You were due to the training fields at 1800 on the dot.”

“I apologize, I was looking for a few handhelds to teach those rookies a few things.”

“Hm.”

—Price decided not to comment on it.

Instead, he grinned. Then he was turning on his heels and making his way back the way he came. Simon watched him as he paced back down the corridor, then he subtly tensed when Price turned his head to look at him over his shoulder as he walked.

“Your button’s undone.”

Okay maybe he did want to comment on it and tease the Lieutenant just a little, the Sergeant too if his assumption on who was in Simon’s pants was correct. Simon flushed beneath his mask as he hurriedly rushed to button his pants back up, but his embarrassment was quickly doused and amusement filled it’s place at his Captain’s next words.

“And tell [Y/Name] he was meant to be on inventory with Gaz. And will now be doing it by himself as a consequence.”

“I’ll make sure he gets the message.”

—

a/n: ghost is so husband 😮‍💨 just wanna kiss him! hold him tightly and love him forever! ❤️

[marquisgray]

How mad at me would you guys be if this was the pose I used for a Soap poster?

(This is going to match the Ghost poster I posted earlier btw)

[kcmactavish]

First post on Tumblr? Hello out there

[schizo-bbgs]

Ghost ^(2)

[konigbabe]

the taste of scotch

Pairing: John Price x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Tags/Warnings: nsfw; smut; top!price; dom!price; alcohol; manhandling; rough sex; p-in-v sex; oral sex; orgasm delay/denial; breathplay

Summary: John Price enjoys two of his favorite things on Earth...you and Scotch.

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"Told ya to lay still, baby," he groans, lips latching on your pulsating neck as he grounds himself into you. Your walls clench, the wetness of your core pooling inside your panties as you wiggle your backside into him.

The amount of pleasure indulging your body keeps rising. Your arms give up in the process, making your face slam right into the pillows at the same time as John slams into you.

His fingertips follow the natural curve of your spine, all his weight nonchalantly resting on your naked thighs as he straddles you. His cold breath on the lower of your back sends shivers right to where you crave him the most.

A breathless moan escapes your parted lips as you feel the liquor hit your skin, soon enough followed by the scraping of John's tongue as he laps at the drops of scotch sliding alongside the curve of your spine, making you arch your back for him.

His name leaves your mouth as he tugs at your hair, making you throw your head back and arch your back even more, your ass pressing into his already hard cock still hidden underneath his underwear.

"Told ya to lay still, baby," he groans, lips latching on your pulsating neck as he grounds himself into you. Your walls clench, the wetness of your core pooling inside your panties as you wiggle your backside into him.

"John," you exhale, rotating your head towards his, "just fuck me already."

Price's right hand squeezes your love handle, digging into your flesh roughly, leaving red prints afterward. His lips form a wicked smile. He chuckles and sits back straight, reaching for the glass of scotch on the bedside table.

"Look at you," you hear him murmur, mostly for himself as he watches how the full moon is illuminating your figure, "so fuckin' perfect."

He takes a sip, feeling the burn on his tongue. Your body is on fire, awaiting his touch. You crave to feel every inch of him, to trace the curves of his body the same way he's doing it to you.

His hand slides from your hair as he moves back, taking his weight off your legs.

"Turn around," he states firmly. Your body is already ahead of your brain and the next thing you know, his hips ground into your aching crotch as your legs rest on top of his thighs. Legs spread wide, his hand rests next to your head as he looks into your eyes, the glass of scotch still present in his other hand.

His eyes are dark with desire, his breath hot on your face as his lips meet yours. Nothing about the kiss is romantic. It's messy...greedy. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tangling with yours as you taste the alcohol still slightly present in his mouth.

Your legs sneak around his waist in a vigorous attempt to bring him closer to you. John's fingers interlace with yours. For a second, he gives in and thrusts into you, his cock, still covered by the fabric of his underwear, hitting your clit deliberately. His chest rumbles with a satisfied groan as you moan into the kiss.

John's the first to pull away but you don't want him to, following his lips before he's too far from you. You shamelessly continue to dry hump him as his lips trace the front of your neck. He places a sloppy kiss on your collarbone before you feel him spill a little bit of his liquor between your collarbones, sucking the alcohol from your burning body.

The tension continues building in your stomach as you near your first orgasm. Bringing your chest into his, your fingers scrape his naked back. Digging your heels into his thighs, his name leaves your lips like a prayer.

Closing your eyes, you throw your head back, mouth open in a silent scream. Then there's...emptiness. John's heat leaves your body as he pulls away, stopping your actions.

"What the fuck," you look at him.

"Open your mouth," he says firmly, hovering over you. Your brain is still foggy from orgasm deprivation as you keep looking at his smug face.

"You don't want me to repeat myself, baby."

Without much question, you open your mouth. He smiles, the same smile you've seen thousand times, the smile that made you fall in love with this man over and over again, without his own knowledge. His thumb traces your parted lips before he brings his glass over your face, silently signaling you his next move.

Your mouth burns as the rest of his liquor pools inside your lips. Putting the now empty glass on the table, John nods as he watches you waiting for his next command.

"That's a good girl," he whispers as his hand rests on your thigh, "now swallow."

You do as you're told, feeling the warm liquid make its way down your throat.

"Now that deserves a fuckin' reward," he brings his head down to your exposed breasts, kissing your shivering skin before latching on your aching nipple.

"John," you moan, fingers already twisting his hair. He allows you to grind on him again, his hand slowly sliding up your body. His hips thrust to meet your movement as precum leaks through his boxers, meeting the wet spot on your panties.

The roughness of his beard scrapes the delicate skin of your breasts as John switches to give attention to your other nipple. He angles his hips so his cock hits your clit perfectly again. The tension in your stomach is back within seconds.

"Fuck yourself on me," he mumbles against your skin and stops thrusting, making your walls clench. Not holding back anymore, you shamelessly use his body for your own pleasure as he continues to give his undivided attention to your chest.

The room is filled with the scent of sex as your movements speed up.

"John," your interlaced fingers dig into his hand, leaving crescent marks on the top of his hand, "I'm gonna...fuck...I'm-"

Your legs tighten around his waist in anticipation but his torment of your body doesn't stop. Biting down on your nipple, he brings his hand onto your stomach, holding you down.

"Don't you dare think about cumming just yet," he murmurs and pulls away an inch, his lips tracing the curves of your chest, "not done with you yet," he says between the kisses.

The hand on your stomach moves to lay flat against the wet spot on your panties, his palm resting on your painfully swollen clit.

"Please," you beg him, feeling the wetness of his mouth trace the top of your underwear.

"I want to cum, John," you whine shamelessly.

"On my tongue only," he looks up at you the moment you look down. The sight of his face between your legs, lips swollen from all the kissing makes your head spin.

A plea leaves your lips. High on the scent of your readiness for him, John kisses the inside of your thighs before finally taking your already-drenched panties off, leaving you naked and ready for taking.

You feel like you just made it to heaven when his lips latch onto your bud of nerves, sucking roughly. His middle finger collects your wetness before making its way into you. His finger softly scrapes your gummy walls. His beard scrapes your inner thighs and he adds a second, then the third finger.

"God, you’re so fucking wet, baby," he scissors his fingers, opening you up. He curls them inside you, hitting your spot with the precision of a sniper. His name continues to spill from your lips as he works his magic on you, bringing you to your overdue orgasm.

Your thighs close him in, keeping his head between your legs as your walls continue contracting. His fingers are soon replaced by his tongue as he laps at your wetness hungrily.

His eyes take in the sight of you - your back arched gently, head thrown back with a silent scream leaving your throat, eyes shut, fingers aggressively gripping at anything in your close proximity - be it the side of your bed, the sheets, or his hair. He feels like he could easily cum just by the way you look at this very moment.

As you crash from your high, your legs fall onto the bed tiredly. A satisfied sigh escapes your lips. You open your eyes the moment you feel the wet head of his cock rest on your pulsating clit.

He's looking at your face, his eyes studying the perfection lying underneath him.

"Hand and knees," he rasps. You watch your juices glisten on his beard as he speaks, the image already burned inside your brain forever.

"I don't think I can take that," you exhale.

His lips turn into a wicked smile.

"That wasn't a question, baby," he shakes his head. Next thing you know, his hands are on your hips as he easily manhandles you into the position. His knees nudge your legs apart as you brace yourself.

The head of his cock traced your opening before he slams into you, his tight grip on your waist being the only thing holding you in place. It feels like he knocked the air out of your lungs as he continues the brutal pace of slow withdrawing with sharp and hard thrusting back in.

"That's it," he grunts, his hips creating noise as they slap against your ass, "you're taking me so fuckin' prettily."

The amount of pleasure indulging your body keeps rising. Your arms give up in the process, making your face slam right into the pillows at the same time as John slams into you. His balls slap your thighs with each thrust as he slows down, one hand sliding up your back and resting between your shoulder blades.

Burying himself to the brim, you feel the head of his cock press against your walls, filling you up completely. He leans forward, his trusts shallow as he reaches for the bottle of scotch, pouting a little into his glass. You turn your head to watch him pour himself one before bringing the glass to his lips.

Meeting his thrusts halfway, he takes a sip of the liquor while watching his cock getting swallowed by your needy cunt.

"I could spend the rest of my life buried inside you, love," he rumbles, taking another sip as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock.

"C´mere," his hand moves from your shoulder blades to wrap itself around your neck gently as he brings you up. Your back is flush against his chest and you feel his auburn hair. You rest your head back on his shoulder as he slows his thrusts, barely moving. Bringing the glass of scotch to your lips, you swallow when he pours the rest of the glass into your mouth and watches you take it all.

"You're so hot like this."

His lips latch onto yours in a hungry, alcohol-filled kiss as he puts the empty glass down. His hand sneaks to your clit, swirling his fingers around as he picks up the pace again, ready to finish what he started.

You brace yourself against the headboard as John slams into you, his tongue never leaving your mouth. He feels your walls tightening around his cock, desperately searching for that desired high.

He swallows your moans as he continues to build your orgasm, the head of his cock nudging your spot with each thrust. His hand tightens around your throat when you try to pull away.

Soon enough, you're not able to kiss him no more as the pleasure builds even more, only a short string of saliva connecting your lips as you moan and gasp, your brain too worn out to form a single word.

You reach your high the moment his hand leaves your neck to twist your nipple, mouth pressed against your temple as his breathing speeds up. John picks up the pace, fucking you relentlessly through your orgasm as he can feel your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

"You're so fuckin' pretty when you come on my cock like that," he says against your skin, sending shivers down your back. You grip the headboard even tighter. Too exhausted to cooperate, he moves his hands to your hips, bringing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His pace becomes sloppy, indicating his near end. His balls tighten, his grunts growing louder, sometimes turning into moans as he shamelessly uses your body to bring himself to an orgasm. The moment he's buried inside you to the hilt, he stiffens and his grip loosens. Almost a primal grunt leaves his lips that are still pressed against your temple as he fills you up.

"John," you finally manage to say his name as he stays pressed flush against you, his softening cock still deep inside.

"You're so good to me," he kisses your jawline before you turn to face him, connecting your lips. The kiss is slow and sloppy, both of your bodies too tired to do any work.

He slips out of you, making you moan at the sudden emptiness within you. He finally lies down on his back as you place your hand on his chest, fingers playing with his chest hair, his chest rising up and down gently as you watch him reach for the bottle of his scotch and pour himself another glass.

[gold0kapi]

"Welcome back, LT”

[m0chac0ffee]

(VERY Domestic) SCENARIOS WITH S. RILEY

Allergies.

"Simonnn....."

...

"Simooonnnn....."

"What?"

Simon walked into your room.

"I can't breathe properly.."

"You congested?"

"Yes..."

"Loser."

"Die slowly, Si."

Simon eventually brought you tea to help soothen your sinuses, tissues, snacks, and medicine to lessen your symptoms.

————————————————————————

I Love You.

"Hey, love?"

"What's up, Si?"

"I love you."

...

...

"Why are you crying?"

"Just... really happy. I love you too. So much."

————————————————————————

Music Taste.

"The hell is this shit?"

"My playlist, obviously."

"It's ass."

"Oh yeah? Think your music is better?"

"Absolutely."

"Whatever."

You smiled softly as you stared at your boyfriend who, despite his complaints, kept his connected earbud in his ear.

————————————————————————

Snoring.

"You snore."

"You're lying."

"Am not."

"Proof or it's not true."

"Alright, just wait til tonight then."

Simon ended up falling asleep before you and you indeed caught a recording of him snoring loudly.

————————————————————————

Ouch.

"OW! FUCK!"

Simon came rushing into your bedroom.

"Love? What happened?"

You were gripping your foot as you sat on the ground.

"Stubbed my toe."

...

"Screamed bloody murder just because you hit your toe."

"It hurt!"

"Didn't require a banshee screech though."

You flipped him off as he chuckled and bent down to kiss your forehead.

————————————————————————

[naconaco]

[eggnogs-art]

Ok yeah so i got too impatient because uhhh yk. They're them. So here's this older drawing i made of these 2 homosexuals that i was gonna post tmr. They're so gay lol (they consume my every waking thought i cant cOPE)

[la-petite-lapin]

Keeping Secrets | John Price x female!reader

Navigation

John Price x afab!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Content Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, mentions of injury, cannon typical violence, swearing, age gap (reader is in her twenties, John is in his forties), suggestive content, oral (F receiving), PIV (protected (stay safe, kids)), brief mention of Price JRs, no use of Y/N

The Captain and the Sergeant start keeping secrets from the rest of the taskforce

It wasn't like it was in the movies or the books. There were no longing glances across crowded rooms; no deep, personal conversations late at night. There was no warning.

The first indication that anything had changed between the two of you was in a dimly lit safehouse. A job had gone wrong - horribly, irreparably wrong - and Soap had been medevac-ed out to the nearest army hospital. The rest of you would have to wait until morning; would have to make it through the night when a countless number of enemy operatives could still be hunting you, then hike to the nearest evac point before sunrise.

Ghost was pacing the worn wooden floors, and you were sure he'd wear through them at some point. You knew better than to make a joke about it - knew better than most the deep bond that he and Johnny shared. To mock it would be to die a brutal death by Ghost's hand in the night.

Gaz was coping with it in the best way he knew how: checking in with everyone, yourself - as the newest member of the taskforce - included, mother-hening his way around the three-room cabin in the middle of rural woodlands.

It wasn't until he'd finally convinced Ghost to sit down and take a breath, that Captain Price finally approached you. Heavily, he lowered himself down to sit beside you on the shabby old sofa, not saying a word at first as you stared ahead at nothing.

Johnny had been standing right next to you when it all went to shit. Him diving in front of you like a lunatic was probably the only reason that you were there with them. The shot to his shoulder would have been a direct headshot on you.

It was hard not to feel bitter or dazed about that.

"It's not your fault, Sarge," John said, his voice markedly softer than usual. He typically made it a point to avoid babying you in any way - knew that you hated being treated differently to the boys - but you could make an exception for him just the once. "Soap chose to block that bullet. Saved your life an' all. Cheer up, yeah? He's alright and you'll see 'im soon enough."

You turned to face him, offering him a small, weak shadow of a smile. "I know. It just sucks."

John frowned, seeing through the thin veil of fake cheeriness. Quieter, he added, "It's alright to be shaken by this, too. First near-death is always scary. It stays with you in a way the ones after don't." There was a pause - a long, tentative pause - as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his parted knees, dark eyes finding yours and holding them. "If- if you don't want to be alone tonight, you don't have to be."

Laid out in the open like that, the offer seemed so damn tempting.

Your mind raced through all of the shit that could go down if you took him up on it - if you were found out. You could be removed from the taskforce, stripped of the sergeant rank that you'd fought so hard to attain. John could be reprimanded for sleeping with an officer under his orders. But, if no one knew... what was the harm?

With a soft, sweet smile - a genuine one this time - you tilted your head, leaning slightly into his space on the sofa. "Yeah. I think I'd like some company, Captain."

Hours later, after Ghost had fallen asleep on the floor of the living room and Gaz had been assigned first watch, Price led you into the smaller second room of the safehouse - the bedroom - under the guise of checking your wounds. In reality, the minor scrapes to his arm and leg had already been dressed, not requiring any further attention. If anything, the cut to Gaz's forearm was of a higher severity.

John grinned as he shut the door with a soft thud, sliding the flimsy, rusted deadbolt across to lock it. You were thankful for the added security; the increased reassurance that the boys wouldn't be able to just wander in and catch you in the act.

The bedroom was poorer lit than the main room, making it harder to see. The moon illuminated the outline of the Captain's broad, muscular frame as he removed his beanie and tactical vest before turning his attention to his belt. You took a seat on the edge of the bed, thighs clenching in an attempt to relieve some of the aching tension in your core.

He took his time stripping down to his white t-shirt and boxer briefs, the material straining with the impressive tent in the front. "Like what you see?" he grumbled cockily, noticing your attention.

You let out something akin to a whine. He looked so good - so unbelievably good after the day from Hell you'd just had. There was also something else that made it undeniably more thrilling; the risk of getting found out. The taboo of it all.

You couldn't deny that you'd found Price attractive before that deployment. You'd spent every day for the past two years around him, living, eating, and working alongside him and the boys. It had also been a fact of life that he had a following - a constant, ever-present gaggle of new, female recruits cornering him in the hallways and vying for his attention. But he never took any of them to bed, preferring to spend his nights in the barracks alone.

At first, you'd thought that he had a wife or a partner off-base, but a conversation on your last stakeout together led you to the truth; he just wasn't interested in the barrack bunnies. He wasn't interested in sleeping with someone just for the sake of it - just because they wanted to get a piece of taskforce 141's infamous Captain.

"I think I might need to see some more to decide," you purr teasingly, lifting a hand to beckon him closer to the bed.

He stepped forward slowly, hands rising to rest on his tapered hips. He was built like a bear; broad, built, and covered in a fine layer of downy body hair.

You licked your lips, eyes tracking every single minute movement.

"I think I need to see something from your first, princess," John teased. "It's only fair."

Eyes never leaving his, you made quick work of stripping out of your own tac vest and pants, chucking them over the edge of the mattress and into a heap on the floor. You even went one step further; shucking off your t-shirt. With a small smirk, you leaned back, clad only in your flimsy underwear and sports bra.

John's eyes were practically bulging out of his head.

"Like what you see, Captain?" you purred, words a light-hearted mockery of his own self-assured crowing.

"If I'd have known," John grumbled as he took another slow, measured step towards the bed, "that this is what you looked like under all that gear, Sergeant, we'd have done this a long time ago."

A grin formed on your lips, ego expanding ten sizes as John prowled across to close the rest of the distance. His irises were all but swallowed up by his pupils, blown with lust.

Shuffling back on the mattress, you eased back as John came to a stop, kneeling between your parted legs. With a lover's gentle reverence, he pressed a kiss to each of your knees in turn before turning his attention to the scrap of damp cotton protecting your modesty.

"May I?" he asked softly, fingers hovering over the waistband at the side, thumb smoothing a path along the ridge of your hipbone.

Breathily, you gave your consent. "Yes. Please, John-"

With practiced ease, he lifted your hips up and off of the bed, guiding your underwear down your bare legs then chucking them to join the rest of the clothes littering the floor. His hands skimmed back up, callouses feather-light against the skin of your calves before rising to knead your plush thighs when he reached them once again. He seemed to be mapping out your body; ghosting over the sensitive parts repeatedly, lingering where he'd deduced you liked to be touched.

The man was a fast learner. An eager one, for sure.

When he'd finished kneading at the soft skin there, he pushed your thighs apart, holding them down to the mattress and exposing the moisture glistening at their apex. Licking his lips, he bowed his head slightly, lowering his body down to the bed.

"John?" you asked, confused as to where he was going and why he still had his briefs on. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, princess?" he mumbled against your inner thigh, dark eyes lifting to meet yours. "Didn't think to bring any rubbers with me, and I don't fancy having any little Prices running around any time soon." A spark of mischief glittered within his gaze as he nuzzled his bristly moustache against a particularly sensitive spot. Your shiver seemed to only embolden him further. "Which means tonight's all about you."

You arched your back off of the bed, trying to push his face closer to where you desperately needed it. "Can you hurry up then?" you whined, getting impatient.

John chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

And, with that, he bowed his head and made good on his promise.

"John!" you yelled, thighs burning with the strain as you bounced up and down on his cock. "John- fuck!"

A whole three months had passed since the first night you'd spent together in the safehouse. The morning after, you'd fully expected him to put an immediate stop to it the moment you were all rescued. Instead, he'd held your hand in the Heli - tucked between both of your bodies, hidden from sight - and promised that you'd talk about what this is later.

Nights since had been split between your room in the barracks and his. Mornings, too, upon occasion. Every spare moment the two of you got some accompanied by the feeling of his large, warm hands on you. By his constant, protective presence in your life.

It was a miracle that no one had noticed the new pull between the two of you. How you seemed to orbit one another.

And then there was the sex. The constant fucking.

"Keep it down, princess," he grumbled, breathless and sweating, beneath you. He didn't look too bothered though - too blissed out to properly care or consider the consequences of someone overhearing.

Clinging to some semblance of intelligent thought, you bit down on your wrist in an attempt to muffle the sounds leaving your mouth, drawn out by the captain and his fat cock. It was quickly becoming one of your favourite parts of him, second only to his beautiful, expressive laugh. It was no secret to you that he was well-endowed. Well-endowed and skilled at utilising it.

"Stop that," he grumbled gruffly, raising a hand to gently remove your wrist from between your teeth. He quickly replaced it with his own hand, guiding the soft part of his palm between his thumb and index finger into your mouth. Anything to prevent you from accidentally injuring yourself. "Keep riding, love. I'm getting close."

A part of your brain purred at that. Love.

It was a pet name that he used sparingly. Perhaps because he saw the flash of panic in your eyes almost every previous time he'd used it.

But now...

You tipped yourself back, hands finding purchase on his tensed, thick thighs to deepen the angle. Freeing his hand from clenched jaw, you whimpered, "I'm... John, I'm so close."

"Me too, sweetheart," he mumbled, speeding up the pace of his thrust. He punctuated the sentence with a snap of his hips. "Me too."

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he tugged you down into his chest and rolled, rising up onto his knees as he set you on your back. Pressing a trail of soft, tender kisses to your face and neck, he picked up the pace; drilling deliciously deep.

You whined, squeezing your legs around his waist and clawing at his back with your fingernails.

With a low growl, John lost it. Turning frantic as he barrelled towards his rapidly approaching end, he pushed you towards your own orgasm - practically bullying it out of you.

You came with a sharp scream, turning your head in a fraught attempt to smother the sound in the pillow. It smelled of Price - rugged, masculine aftershave and a hint of tobacco smoke.

He himself came moments later, gasping as his release swept over him. Covering your body like the world's best weighted blanket, he slumped down on top of you.

Still buried deep inside the paradise at the apex of your thighs, he pressed a sloppy, lazy kiss to the side of your neck, running his nose along your throat. It was one of the best part of sex with Price; the cuddling that came after.

Giving a small jolt of his hips, he grumbled something into your salty skin.

"Hm?"

John lifted his face slightly, breath tickling the underside of your jaw. "I said, I wish I was ten years younger. Then I could go again and again without a half-hour break between each round."

You giggled. John's age was something that you didn't mind. You knew that the age gap between you probably would have put some people off, but - if anything - he made you feel safe and respected. Though that could be the fact that he was a highly-decorated war vet, and a complete Golden Retriever of a man.

Pressing a kiss to his temple, you whispered, "I wouldn't have it any other way, John."

There was a beat of silence as the two of you soaked up the moment; the feeling of just holding one another on the sweat-soaking sheets, oblivious to the world outside of the little bubble you'd created for yourselves. With a chaste kiss to your shoulder, John gave another tentative roll of his hips, drawing another whiny groan from you.

"You sure know how to make an old man feel loved, princess."

Before you could reply - to bring up to the l-word that you'd both been skirting around for weeks now - your phone chimed. The alert tone was one you'd reserved for the other members of the taskforce only.

Why would they be messaging on a Sunday night?

A wave of panic cresting inside of you, you eased John's softening cock out of you, wincing at the sudden emptiness. Your phone was on the desk, all the way over on the other side of the room. It seemed so impossibly far as you scrambled for it.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" John asked, suddenly fully alert and hurrying to tug his boxer briefs back on.

Wordlessly, you read the message you'd just been sent. Your face blanched to an unhealthy pallor as you handed him the phone. A single message notification waited on the screen, glaring with accusation.

GHOST: We heard everything, you two. Think you owe us an explanation at the very least. Rec room in ten minutes.

John looked up from the phone screen, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a lopsided, sheepish smile. "Well, I guess that's what we get for keeping secrets, princess."

a/n: hello, hello :) so this was the Price X 141!reader fic that won the poll! I've had so much fun writing this one - not that I don't love Double the Love (my firstborn fic) please feel free to tell me what you want to see next! - happy surprise-post thursday, lapetitelapin :)

[shxnigxmi]

❤︎︎ 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 ❤︎︎ [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

ఌ synopsis: you eagerly await the return of your husband, and he can’t wait to be in your arms once again

ఌ content warnings: foul language, anxiety, domestic fluff, ghost is literally whipped—

ఌ author’s note: why is physical affection so hard? like someone hold me in their arms and keep me safe but like do it without actually touching me cause i fucking hate that fucking shit /:(

—

Beat down and bone-tired. Ghost was exhausted.

Simon was exhausted. And he let out a tired huff as he slid the key into the lock of his front door before he twisted it with a click. Repeated the same process with the handle before he was twisting it and trudging inside, dropping his heavy duffel on the ground as he slid out of his sneakers. Black Nikes he traded in for his combat boots back at base.

“Lovey,” he called out into the apartment as he kicked his shoes off. When he didn’t get an answer his immediate response was to tighten up with panic. Muscles taut against the profound ache of weariness that weighed down heavily on his bones.

At least he would have, but there was no need for such a reaction. Because he could see the door to your art room slightly ajar, the soft golden light coming from the lamp you kept on the desk in the corner bathing the hallway in it’s pale glow. And he could hear you humming, your voice soft as angels and melodic as a siren bewitching him to come closer as your taut chords strung the sound together beautifully. He smiled.

Inhaling a breath that felt like it had cleansed his lungs is when he noticed the scent of pumpkin spice, and he tilted his head at the small glow in the corner of the living room. A candle, the flame small as the scented candle was no more than three inches tall. The rightfully themed orange wax sat in a small glass container. Tiny and withheld there on the table by the bookcase.

He wondered why he hadn’t noticed the small flickering before, or why the scent had evaded him until just now. Perhaps he really was tired. Or maybe it was because he heard you, and the fact that he was aware you were present in this home you shared with him made him feel more at peace. Softer and less tightly wound, less of Ghost and more of Simon the longer he stood there before the shut and locked front door.

Yes, the candle added it’s aroma to the homely vibe his apartment was bathed in. But it was you that made it feel truly like home, it was you that made it feel safe and comfortable. Here with you he could be Simon, he could be human.. just a man yearning for love and affection. Wanting to be taken care of and held tenderly.

Out there in the real world, the world that’s full of vile and hateful shadows that prowl in the darkness waiting for an innocent victim is where he needed to be Ghost. Lieutenant Riley. Cold, hard, calculated and cruel.

Here with you… he could just be Simon. Your loving and devoted husband.

So he smiled minutely, a gentle thing tugging the corners of his lips up minutely to put a soft look on his face. Happy. He paced to the art room, the first door on the left at the mouth of the hallway, before he peered inside through the wide gape you had left the door with.

And the warmth in his chest bubbled at the sight of you, sat in that stool with one leg tucked up and laid down on the flat of the stool. Your other leg bent at the knee as you used it to rest your elbow so your paintbrush strokes could be more fine. Simon smiled at the way you looked so domestic, a large shirt —no doubt one of his— draping your figure. Large sweatpants that bunched up around your ankles and have been rolled at the waistline. And a pair of crew socks. Your hair was pushed out of your face with an elastic headband. And it was then in that moment when he had brought his eyes back up to your face that he noticed the headphones.

He was perfectly happy just watching you as you worked in your element, the way you guided the paintbrush across the canvas was mesmerizing. Perfect strokes as you moved your hand in an arch to curve the colorful line you’d just created.

It wasn’t until you were painting the left side of the canvas did you notice the figure out of the corner of your eye. You felt a brief sense of electrified panic and fear of an intruder as you quickly flicked your head to the doorway— and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just Simon.

Humming you went back to it, switching out the wide brush for a fine point one and using the fibers to scoop up a dollop of green before.. wait—

You froze, then looked back to the doorway. And sure enough he was still stood there, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorframe with a playful glint in his eye and smug smile on his lips. Bare to you at the expense of his mask rolled up to the bridge of his nose. Simon!

“Simon!” You squealed, clambering off the stool and setting the paint pallet there alongside your headphones before you were spinning and leaping into your husband’s strong and loving arms.

He chuckled deeply at your enthusiasm, then reached down to grab your thighs before he was hoisting you up to encourage you to wrap your legs around his wide waist. And you did so with little more prompting.

“I missed you doll,” he murmured into your hair and you laughed wetly as you snuggled your face closer into his neck. Warm and bare to you, vulnerable to loving pecks as you welcomed your hubby home.

“I missed you too Si. So much.” You pulled back from his embrace of just enough to cup his face and pull his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, and you gently held his face as he pressed his lips firmly back against yours.

No matter how many times you and he shared saliva it felt like the first kiss every single time. That first kiss that you can recall happening on your porch, the porch just out the front door he had just come through.

It was the first date, after you two had met in a bar downtown you’d hit it off rather quick. And he offered a nice and quiet walk alongside the large pond in the city’s square. The pond that had a beautiful fountain in the middle, and as you walked with him slowly but surely you had gotten to know a bit more about him.

What with his black balaclava and the fierce and brooding aura about him, it had been a shock he’d asked you to join him outside. He had seemed prickly and more of lone wolf type of guy when you’d seen him across the bar all those nights ago. And you were surprised when you’d both ended up at the bar together.

He wasn’t. Because he had noticed you too, and he had been trying to scrounge up some courage to approach you. Eventually, his teammates had pushed him to stand and go order another drink when they saw that you had returned to the bar.

And the rest has all led up today, to that electrified kiss. A kiss that you felt all the way in your toes, like fireworks erupting in your chest and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. That’s the affect Simon had on you, the “so helplessly and utterly in love” affect that made you feel warm and happy anywhere near him. He was perfect.

And you’re so glad he’d put a ring on your finger, so glad you had bought a ring of your own to ask him. And so glad to have been happily married to him for three years already. Because Simon was comfort and Simon was home.. and you loved and adored him more than anything.

“What’re ya workin’ on?” He questioned as he set you back on your feet, pressing one final kiss to your lips before you were turning away from him to face the canvas. The project that was almost finished.

“Just some big piece for a company in New York. Payed a shitload for it too,” you explained as you moved to the desk in the room. Messy with files upon files stacked on top of each others, papers strewn about and the mahogany wood littered with pieces of garbage. Candies, discarded coffee cups, crushed energy drink cans.. it was a disaster.

But you found the paycheck right where you had left it, laid atop the manilla folder in the corner. You plucked it from it’s perch before moving back to Simon and handing it to him. His eyes widened at the number of zeroes behind the set of double digits at the beginning.

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of frazzled because they paid a lot.. and I know they’ll like it I’m just not sure I’ll be able to finish the whole thing in time.” You spoke, suddenly ready to burst like a water spout and rant to him. You knew that he would listen intently and you knew he would do whatever he could to fix the problem or offer any advice he thought would be helpful. But you were tired, you’d been staring at the damn canvas all day. And whilst you had a cohesive idea in mind the client had said to make it abstract. So you’d just been letting your brush guide your hand and went to your heart’s content.

But now? Right now all the colors were blurring together, and not in the way an abstract is supposed to. Not in the way you’d seen it in your head. And it was making you frustrated, anxiety aligning unwell with your unease and anger made everything so much worse.

When you had finally found somewhat of a groove again is when Simon had come home. But even still.. it didn’t quite feel right. You dreaded the thought of maybe having to start a new one tomorrow, but you didn’t want to give your client something you weren’t proud of. Especially since they’d paid so much and especially since they expected so much from you since your profoundly successful gallery last month.

So when you had seen Simon all worries had flown right out the window, and the ire wound tightly in your chest had dissipated. He’d worked out the unruly twitch in your brow with his mere presence alone and you melted into his hold when you had squealed and jumped him.

But now that you had once again found the canvas as your main point of attention— the feelings returned. And you grimaced angrily at it. As if your twisted scowl would somehow fix the painting and your problem.

Simon recognized the look in your eye, and he knew you would continue to glare at your painting until you either got new inspiration or burnt yourself out trying to create something that was satisfying to your expectations. So he turned you to face him and cupped your cheeks.

“Let’s get to bed yeah? I’m sure you’ll have a fresher perspective on this tomorrow.” He gently urged, and you sighed softly as you reached your hands up to hold his wrists. You nodded your agreement.

And he took your hand in his to guide you into the shared bedroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, your nightly routine began. And he helped you with your skincare routine as you gently pulled off his mask and wiped clean the black eye grease that painted his face. Once clean with a cleansing wipe you began his skincare routine, built and patented by you.

And he closed his eyes and exhaled softly at the way your hands and fingers felt on his face. The intimate domestic feeling behind the action made his heart warm and his stomach flutter. You had made him a skincare routine, loved him enough to care about what he’s putting on his face. And it felt amazing to be sharing a nightly routine with you again.

Once you both rinsed your faces clean and patted them dry, you brushed your teeth before waltzing back into the bedroom to the closet on the other side. And you both changed into cleaner clothes. A pair of boxer briefs and a clean shirt from Simon’s side of the closet for you. He opted to go shirtless and donned sweatpants that hung low and accentuated his abs and v-line. You couldn’t help but stare and Simon grinned as he caught you looking at him from where you lay on the bed.

“See something you like?”

“Oh you know I like you very much Honey.”

He chuckled quiet in his chest before he was turning out the bathroom light and joining you on the bed, wrapping a strong arm around your middle and pulling you into his chest. Your back flush against it, and you relished in the warmth that radiated off of him.

He pulled the sheets and duvet up to cover you both, kissed your temple before trailing his lips down to your cheek, your jaw and eventually your throat. Where he whispered his goodnight into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You had uttered yours back to him when you turned your head to catch his lips with yours one more time before you faced forward again and settled in to sleep through the passing night.

Missed constellations and the pale glow the moonlight cast upon the complexes that made up your neighborhood. All to be in the safe and protective arms of your beloved husband.

Simon Riley. Who you loved and adored more than anything in this world.

—

ఌ author’s note: i just like to imagine that when you are in the arms of your comfort character all your fears, all your worries and your aches and your pains just vanish.. as if being in their arms makes everything okay… makes you safe and protected… makes you loved ❤︎︎