#captain john price drabble

[achilles-rage]

thinking about older neighbour!john price hearing you knock on his door one october night, just barely audible over the sound of heavy rain hitting his roof and windows, and the thunder and lightning in the distance.

MDNI 18+ Only!

he ushers you inside quickly, seeing that you're already slightly damp from walking across your lawn and to his front door. he notices you shivering, a blanket thrown around your shoulders, and puts an arm around you as he leads you to sit on a stool in his kitchen while he makes you some tea.

"i’m sorry. the power's been out all day, and my house is freezing. i saw your lights still on, and i just thought-" you begin to say apologetically, but he cuts you off with a tut, shaking his head.

"don't apologize. you're always welcome here. you can stay the night, if you want. the generator's still got a ton of juice." he tells you gruffly, sliding your mug across the counter and leaning across from you, his elbows propping himself up. you thank him softly as you pick up the tea, letting it warm up your hands, but not taking a sip yet.

"you're freezing. why don't we go sit on the couch? i've got the fireplace going, it'll warm you up in no time." you nod, smiling softly as you stand up. he smiles when you immediately turn and walk to his living room. he loves how comfortable you are in his space.

he thinks he won the jackpot when he moved in next door to you, this soft, sweet thing that was quick to introduce herself and bring him a fresh batch of cookies as a welcome to the neighbourhood.

pretty soon, after he insisted that there was no reason for you to pay someone else, you began asking him for help with things around your house. and in return, you brought him sweets. but, he always thought the best reward was seeing you plush tummy hidden by the fabric of your clothes, or a sliver of your thighs when you wore short dresses, or when you would wear lower cut shirts that gave him the perfect view of your soft tits.

you take a seat on the couch, immediately crossing your legs and wrapping the blanket tighter around you. he stands in front of you and holds out his hands, gesturing to the blanket. you raise your brow, giving him a confused look. he gently tugs it off of you, and silently makes his way to his laundry room, putting your blanket in the dryer, before coming back. he grabs you a different blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over your shoulders, muttering a soft "that's better" before he sits down beside you.

you talk to him in a quiet voice for a while, the only other sounds being the harsh sound of rain hitting his house, and the soft crackle of the fire burning in his fireplace. he tries so hard to be good, to keep his eyes on your face rather than trailing down your body. even though you’re covered by a blanket, it doesn’t stop him from imagining how you’d look under him, how you’d feel when he stretched you out around him, how you’d feel coming on his cock.

he suddenly gets an idea, and stands up, telling you he’s going to make some more tea. you try to protest, but he doesn’t want to hear a peep. you still look so cold, he lies, and he wants to make sure you don’t catch a cold. isn’t that sweet?

rather than going to the kitchen, however, he goes to check on his generator. he shuts it off quickly, grinning as he’s enveloped in darkness. he makes his way back to the living room with a battery powered lantern just in time to hear your sweet little voice call for him. you’re such a soft little thing, and if everything goes according to plan, you’ll be bouncing on his lap by the end of the night.

“it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here. generator must’ve run outta gas. we can get closer to the fire if you want, it’ll keep us plenty warn.” he tells you in a smooth voice, grinning when he sees you look over at the fire and nod slowly.

he clears his throat as he moves to sit in front of the fire, leaning back against the couch. he pats the spot beside him, urging you to come sit with him.

once you’re beside him, you offer some of your blanket to him. he’s not cold. not at all. but what kind of man would he be to turn down such an inviting offer? it’s almost as if that gesture proves to him that you want him too, that although you came to his house in search of warmth, you were looking for him to warm you up, not his heater.

he’s sure that’s what sparked his newfound confidence, and soon enough, your clothes are discarded on the carpet beside you, and his cock is slowly stretching out your dripping hole.

“that’s it, sweetheart. let me hear you.” he growls quietly, eyes trained on your face contorted in pleasure. you whimper softly, moving yourself on his cock in a way that makes you see stars. while one of his hands helps guide you up and down on his thick cock, the other circles your puffy clit. he wants more than anything to watch you come apart for him, and right now, he’s holding back from coming too early.

he smirks when he hears the loud mewl escape your lips and you start to move in uneven bounces, shuddering on top of him. he moves his fingers in circles around your clit even faster, groaning at the sight of you tilting your head back in ecstasy.

“you gonna cum for me, sweetheart? you wanna cum on my cock?” he asks you roughly. he can feel himself twitching inside of you, and he knows he’s close, he just hopes you’re as close as he is. you nod your head vigorously, and the only sound you’re able to make is a high pitched whine, although he’s sure he can hear “please, john” between your incoherent babbling.

“cum for me, baby. let go for me.” he whispers, and after a few more seconds, something inside you snaps. your body goes rigid as you feel yourself coming on him, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you throw your head back. this sight is all it takes for him to let go as well. he cums with a loud grunt, followed by a moan as he feels himself filling you to the brim.

you bite your lip hard when you feel his seed against your velvety walls, and you slow your hips to a stop as you try to catch your breath, his cock still buried to the hilt.

the rest of the night consists of him pulling you into his arms and refusing to let you go. you lay on the carpet in front of the fire, being lulled to sleep by his steady breathing on your neck, and you’re sure john price will never be “just your neighbour” ever again.

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[minihotdog]

Whose Wife Is This?

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Summary: John comes home and finds out that he somehow has a wife.

a/n: lmaooo I just had this idea before I went to bed the other night. Kinda wrote this in a hurry so it isn't organized at all and the story is all over the place, yada yada. Bare with me... Bear with me? *shrugs*

word count: 1k

***

John tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes to no avail. There was no way of hiding that the long nights he’d been putting in at the office were weighing on him. But with no reason to go home, why would he? He’d just have to complete the mountain of paperwork the next day anyway. His eyes strained from hours of reading, his wrist ached from writing.

Young John Price would’ve never imagined the amount of paper pushing he’d be doing as an operator. His naive young self lived for the chaos of the field, sometimes even putting off his less-than-exciting duties. 

“Sir?” John’s head shoots up. The boys stand at his door huddled around the small entrance. “You staying here all night, Captain?” Gaz asks with concern mixed into his voice. John looks over to the now significantly smaller pile of papers littering his desk.

“I was just finishing up. You boys need something?”

Gaz shakes his head, “No, sir.” A smirk plays on his lips. “Just tell your wife we said ‘hello’.”

“I’ll let her know.” He replies absentmindedly. The boys leave the captain alone once again, he continues looking at the papers, shuffling them around before he stops abruptly.

“My wife? What the bloody hell were they talking about.” He mutters to himself. He takes it as a sign that he should call it a night since he is now imagining things. “I don’t have a wife. Why would he say that?” 

***

The drive home is silent. At the end of a long day, he couldn’t stand to listen to anything, his mind was too exhausted to think about anything but a beer and his bed. Not many knew about his personal life. Ghost was the only one who knew he’d been married before, but the marriage occurred when he was younger and undoubtedly more immature.

He made it to selection, began his career, and fell into the same pattern many men in his profession did: Partying, one-night stands, etc. He would be the first to admit that he’d been a piss-poor husband and he was now missing the touch of a woman in his life. His bed was lonely, his house devoid of life, reflecting how often he was actually home. He’d become a hopeless romantic, dreaming of someone he could hold in his arms. He yearned for someone to memorize. Their little habits and quirks, someone he’d share moments with, even have arguments with.

He pulls into his driveway barely remembering the drive home. He groans as he steps out of his car, his back aching from the day of training and being hunched over. He moseys his way to the front door and unlocks it while letting out a deep breath. The hallway is lit by a single dim light, the brown floral wallpaper looks like it came from the 19th century and gives the home a depressing look. He unties his boots and kicks them off leaving them next to the door. He removes his uniform top tossing it on the chair on the opposite wall before his feet pat softly against the hardwood floors leading towards the kitchen, towards a beer he so badly wanted to have.

He briefly glances at a photo framed on the wall and continues onward-

Wait a second?

He takes a couple of steps back and his head snaps towards the photo. His eyes scan it knowing for a fact that it had not been there in the morning… Or any time before that. A woman in a white sun dress sat smiling in a field of flowers. He rubs his eyes, unable to believe what he is seeing, she’s wearing his bucket hat.

He looks further down the hall and sees another picture frame, this one on top of the entryway table next to a pot of plants he either forgot to water or wasn’t around to. He rushes over to it and his eyes almost pop out of his head. This photo was of him smiling down at the same woman. He reaches for it, holding it close to his face. He looks around trying to make sense of what was happening only to realize the pot of dead plants now had vibrant green leaves pouring out of it.

Maybe he’d entered the wrong house? That couldn’t be, the furniture was in the same place as it had been before. And he couldn’t deny that the man in the photo looked exactly like him. Just as he was certain he was losing his mind a feminine voice calls out for him.

“John?”

He puts the picture frame back on the table and swings around towards the voice. Small bits of light flood into the hallway from the crack in the kitchen door. He slowly pushes the door further, his eyes trying to adjust to the bright light.

“There you are! I thought I heard you come home.” A woman rushes towards him wiping her hands on her pink apron. She pulls him into a hug but he’s too stunned to react. She pecks his cheeks and pulls him towards the dining table. “Sit, honey. I made you dinner. You stayed so late today, you’re probably starving.”

He lets her drag him to the table and plops down on a chair. She flows around the counter and returns with a plate of food. She places it in front of him in between the cutlery already on the table. The meal looks far better than what he’s been putting together for himself the last few weeks. He usually cooked or meal planned but work this week just didn’t let him and he expected to come home tonight and sleep for dinner.

He blinks at her for a few seconds unsure of how he ended up in this situation.

“Love, what are you doing in my house?” 

“I’m your wife silly,” You giggle at him while leaning over to give him another kiss on the cheek.

If he had the energy to argue he would, but instead he decided to eat. He licks the plate clean and brings it to the kitchen sink.

“C’mon, honey. You’re so tired, let’s get you in bed.”

He follows quietly trying to figure out if he should accept this or if he should ask questions in the morning. There’s only one thing he knows for sure in his exhausted state: That’s not his wife.

[softaestluv]

next | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Something, something, about the 141 men all being quite obsessed with you, placing bets who could get you first— everyone thinks it’s Kyle, he’s charming, handsome, who wouldn’t swoon at his feet?

Maybe even Johnny, he’s a bit of a dog, but he has a way with women, by some miracle, and he’s smart, maybe it’s his blue eyes.

No one thought it would be Simon, their lieutenant, of all people, anti-social, rough around every edge. A brute, curt, wears a skull.

Then one day, they get a message in the group chat from Simon, a picture attached. Kyle can’t believe it, Price, the dirty old man, saves it to his phone instantly, Johnny has to do a spit-take because there in the photo is you.

But it’s not just you.

It’s you perched on Simon’s lap.

Naked from the head down, back facing the camera, with your face buried in Simon’s neck. Simon gets a low enough angle, gets a perfect view of your pussy, stretched wide over his fat cock. Puffy and swollen, glistening with your sopping arousal.

With a simple sentence:

‘Look who I found’

[tojisteddy]

Overstim with the 141

John is full of encouragement. His large hands caressing and pulling you in the most divine ways. He’ll hold you close, slowly thrusting into you during your second orgasm, forehead to forehead.

“So pretty honey, know you can give me another.”

“Love you so much, just fuckin- fuck- made for me, fuckin proud of you.”

He’ll plant such tender kisses on your lips, you can’t help but melt and shudder around him. He’ll continue praising you after, cumming himself just from getting you off.

Simon on the other hand, he’s getting that orgasm out of you whether you think you can or not. A bully. Rubbing your puffy clit till your withering and sobbing on his dick. Might stick a finger in your stuffed heat for good measure. He’ll suck on your earlobe, then make his way down your jaw. Finally creaming all over him just how he wanted.

“See? Wasnt that fuckin hard, was it luvie?”

“Pretty little cunt just needed a little guidance, huh birdie?”

Gaz, just has to talk you through it. Dirty talker at heart. Wont shut the fuck up. Definitely has your arms pinned behind your back, enjoying the perfect view of of your cheeks rippling every time he drags his length out and then rams it back in your sopping walls.

“Shit, sweetheart, look at how well you’re taking me. Pussy wont let me go, needs me right, here, yeah?”

“Shh, shhhh, listen angel. You hear all that? That’s allll you, fucking soaking me to my balls. You can give me another, show me how good you are.”

Soap, the idiot, will overstimulate himself while overstimulating you. You’re fucking shaking, telling him to take a fucking break but he’s pussy drunk. So pussy drunk, that even the idea of him pulling out of your tight pussy makes tears well up in his eyes, rambling, whimpering, pleading—

“Cannae get enough of ye bonnie, god, ‘nd ya want me gone? Not like this lass, ma ears ‘re shot. I can’t- ungh- why are ye suckin me like this, Christ-“

“Soo good- hnngh- too good- need you dove. Please, please cum, just once more! I swear, I promise-“

The fool, fucking you both dumb till he’s shooting blanks, cum leaking out of your overstuffed cunt, leaking down his thighs and he’s passed out, still inside you. Don’t worry! He’ll do it over again tomorrow :)

a/n: good morning, sluts, countryfolk, and working babes— lend me your ears!!!

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[spurbleu]

jus been thinking about a reader who isn’t used to spending much money/grew up cheaper who is dating price.

because he’s absolutely the type to spoil you, and you are just baffled because £2,000 for a necklace is ridiculous. you only like it, not love it. and ‘sides, he shouldn’t be spending that much on a piece of jewelry.

but it made you stutter your steps when you saw it in the window. made you pause before answering him when he asked, “y’like that dove?” half-mindedly responding “mhm…” it all only solidified his assumption you were smitten.

course, when he started towards to the door your hands found fluttering purchase on his shirt, shaking your head, hissing,

“absolutely not. way to expensive.”

“nothing is too expensive if it’s f-“

“John.”

you could find one just like it at a flea market, a reassurance that didn’t seem to do much for John, but you were unbothered. you had a good eye for those things. so it was forgotten.

until, you’re bidding a sappy goodbye at the airport before his flight, and he slips something into your back pocket, taps your bum and winks.

“keep it safe.”

you leave your fury with it in your back pocket until you get home, ripping the box open to reveal, sneaky bastard, the necklace.

[callofdoobie420]

Something something neighbor!Price who just so happens to also be retired…

Has his dad bod absolutely perfected. He is still fit, with some definition but he’s gotten a bit softer in some areas. A little extra pudge on the tummy. *chefs kiss*

Sees this pretty little bird moving into the small house down the road from his, while out on one of his walks. Notices you struggling with a heavy box.

“Need help there sweetheart?” He asks, his voice smooth - yet some how still deep, gravelly.

“Oh, it’s okay - hmmph,” you groan, as you try to heft the box out of the back of your car, “I’ve got it!”

Independent. Capable. But oh so soft.

Yeah…Price was done for.

He gave a soft chuckle as he moved closer, one hand grasping a side of the box. “Please let me,” he gives a genuine smile, “only the neighborly thing to do, help a pretty bird like yourself,” he says with a cheeky wink.

You blush, but relent, letting him take the box. Heaving it into his arms with ease (what a yummy looking snack those biceps are…). You follow him in with a much smaller box, directing him where to put his.

John stays to help you finish unloading your car, maintaining it was no bother. It really wasn’t, he was finding that he liked your presence. Soft, and kind, but with enough fire to put John in his place.

You invited him inside to cool off when you both finished, offering a cool glass of lemonade. Sat at your small dining table, he slowly drank his lemonade. Taking in your small home and the way you carried yourself. He couldn’t help but think…

Darlin don’t get too cozy, you’ll be moving again in less than a year. This time it’ll be just down the road into his place, as his girl.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[bunny-jpeg]

john price would trap you with a baby. no questions asked. he knew the years were catching up to him. he knew that wouldn't be much longer before he couldn't pass on the price genes.

he felt bad when he masturbated, felt like he was wasting his boys. spurts of hot cum down his large shaft wishing that it was inside a pretty little things smaller cunt. his hand was too rough even with lubrication. he needed something with supple flesh that he could sink his teeth into and a wet pussy to stuff full. he wanted to feel himself impregnating someone.

that was where you came in.

you felt amazing, sex with you was something else. the way you were like a bunny when you rode his cock. you bounced on him, not slowing down until he wrung at least three orgasms out of you. he found it endearing that you could take him. and while cowgirl was fun and missionary felt classic.

if price wanted to get you pregnant then, he knew that doggy style would be the best course of action. sadly, that position was a little more difficult given your size difference. price the bear and his little cub, those weren't just terms of endearment. he was burly, hairy, but you were so much shorter that he couldn't easily slip into you. but things could always be modified.

he smothered you under him as you laid on the bed with your legs spread and price was on top of you with his cock invading your slick entrance. the feeling was different and the weight on top of you only added to the pleasure.

his mind was focused, as he worked himself into you. he slid in easily, little resistance from you. your pussy was greedy for him, not that price could blame you. you were just so perfect for him. he shaped you into the perfect thing for him. you were his angel, the sweetest fruit, the woman he wanted to carry his child. if you liked it or not.

thoughts of you dark puffy nipples, the waddle in your step, the complaints of back pain. how your body changed because of him, he marked you in a way that no other man could. price boys grew strong and were a handful both in the womb and out. hungry boys too, but price would happily massage your fat tits to make sure there was more than enough milk for his boys. might have a little taste himself, see what all the fuss was. the heavy milk on his tongue as he fucked his pretty wife.

no need to go out and find a job. price's got enough to make sure that your wallet and your womb were packed full. no need to worry your little head, just make sure the babies are taken care of and price will do all the thinking in the relationship. he knew your dream was to see your diploma on the wall, but he thought that a family photo would be much better.

hard to complete your degree when your pregnant belly doesn't fit in the lecture hall seat or it was feeding time for john jr. there was nowhere for you to nurse his hefty son and you'd in the end miss too much class because price would be keeping you at home to start on the next one.

"that's it, doll. that's my girl. she suckin' me right in. she know what she wants and she's takin' it. made just for, huh, petal?" he growled as he pressed into you further, his cock didn't slip out. he fucked you feverishly.

he felt you tremble as you came not once, but twice, back to back. price continued to fuck you, ruin your pretty little folds and let him feel as much as he could of your sweet sex. you felt amazing, only pussy price would want. he fucked you roughly with his hands pressed into the covers on either side of your head. you were too blissed out by the time he finished inside of you that you didn't even ask for him to pull out.

a good wife took every drop.

he soon after pulled his cock out, the sight of his cum sticking to your slick pussy lips with most of his seed inside of you. made his cock peek at attention once more. "there she is." he purred, "messy girl." he tipped your hips up and held them in his large hands. he dipped between your legs and played with your pussy. something to distract you while his cum slid into the back of your pussy.

now be good, and get pregnant <3

a/n: i don't know what came over me... i'm sorry

[dmitriene]

Bear price when he wakes up dizzily and finds your belly a little swollen after his hibernation. his darling already in her 2 month or something 😵‍💫

cw: hybrids, pregnancy.

there's nothing else john could've ask for, waking up to his hibernation finally over, all the drowsiness leaving his brawny, fat thickened body slowly, the nature outside the cabin already awake, birds bringing a chirp soothing songs with the first, pale layers of sun, breaking through the loosely curtained window above the wooden headboard of the bed, golden glow highlighting your sleep curled body to warm your skin, soft as a fleece, blanket and furs rumpled, furling at your curved hips.

the bump of your tummy is unmistakable, round, with a barely noticeable, dark vertical line that runs down the center of your abdomen, a little bit hard under his calloused palm, as he smoothes his thumb tentatively over your skin, a deep, gravelly rumble reverberating through his throat, and you answer him even in your sleep, curling in at the feel of his touch, tucking yourself closer to the slope of his side, your palms coming to cup over his own.

you don't say anything when your eyes flutter open, bleary, mirroring the sleepy dizziness that reflects in john's own, tender blues, flicking over your tummy and face with sincere spoken awe and giddiness that makes the corners of his lips curve up, lifting his mutton chops beard, softening his features along the lingering, bed warmed contentment, his heavy, hair dappled hand curling over the line of your exposed hips, palm splaying at the small of your back, tugging you close in an embrace that replaces thousands of words, his face nuzzling against your smile gleaming one.

john and you both don't have to know for sure if there's something growing inside of you, it's obvious, from your pretty round tummy, to the gut deep possessiveness churning inside of him, overcoming his senses with gum aching need to claim, make sure you're safe and pliable with nothing to worry about in his grasp, his face lowering to nudge in the arching curve of your neck, sensitive to the touch of his scraping beard, making you shudder, and smelling mouth drooling good, all ripe and calling, as his sharp teeth nip down.

he makes sure to not overwhelm you, holding his basic instincts in tight grip so as not to pounce at you at any given moment, unable to not think about how good you would've feel around his cock, so sensitive and gorgeous, carrying his offspring while being pumped full of another load, but unfortunately, john has to get a grip, since pregnancy makes you a little bit fuzzy and sleepy, but it's doesn't means he can't get between your thighs and get a taste of your pussy, weeping honey sweet all for him.

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[starsofang]

Price loves his sweet wife, all smile and charm, all pretty and wits. But oh, does he love when she gets mad.

He doesn’t mean to get you riled up, but he also doesn’t mean for his pants to get all tight and uncomfortable when it happens. He doesn’t mean a lot of things, actually—just like how he didn’t mean it when he told you about an old broad that made numerous attempts to sweeten him up down at the bar his crew often resided.

There was no broad, nor was there anything but drunken laughter shared with his men.

But the sight of you, his precious wife, spouting out annoyed curses, rolling your pretty eyes until they nearly fell out your head, yapping on about how you’ll happily stomp that bitch in the curb the next time you see her? It’s like injecting him with a poison that had his dick growing so hard in his pants he could feel its own pulse.

Price had already married you, practically got on one knee to pop the question the moment you two met, but seeing that nasty side of you stirred something sinister in him. Naturally, he did everything he could to lure it out just to ease the aching need he had for you.

Sex with you was already spellbinding, but when you were flushed hot with bitter jealousy, pretty hands pressed firm against his chest as you slammed your hips down on his weeping cock in a repetitive motion was a sight he wished he could frame forever.

He’d never tell you that most (all) times, he was only telling you little, white lies to get your rage pumping. It was his dirty secret.

You certainly never seemed to mind taking it out on him, which was exactly the goal. Hell, you even let him paint your walls pearly white as an apology for getting so worked up, something so utterly rewarding to him.

He loved this calm life with you. Wouldn’t change a thing about it. But the occasional angry wife, spitting burning fire and only egging him on? Yeah, that was something he didn’t mind becoming a routine, so long as his cock was the thing you were using as your release.

[guppybibi]

John Price who absolutely loves it when you nag him. Would kill someone just to hear you scold him about smoking another cigar today. Who wouldn't appreciate all the nagging you do for him? He doesn't understand all of the other husbands who despise their wive's nagging, you wouldn't have nagged in the first place if you didn't care for their wellbeing in the first place!

Like he accidentally left the faucet slightly open? He could already hear your sweet voice lecturing him on and on about water conservation and such. You not only care for him, but the environment too? He scored a goal he never even knew he was missing the whole time!

Or maybe he casually skipped a meal to clear off his workload? Oh boy, he could practically see the outline of your shadow, approaching his office with a hearty meal and a frustrated pout. His imagination was doing wonders while he thought about what you plan on saying upon entering the room, perhaps you'll just step in and shove a spoonful of whatever food you have into his mouth?

He could die happy if he hears you telling him off about putting the toilet paper under instead of over (which is apparently the right way, from what I've heard) or for not taking out the trash earlier in time. John Price is a simple man, who appreciates the simple things in life, by your words alone he can already tell how much you care and value him as a person and as your husband.

[beloveds-embrace]

(p2 of john price x reader who basically manifests him into her life)

It turns out that Captain John Price is, unfortunately, not a fever dream conjured by stress and blackberry pie. He is very real, very present, and very much making himself at home in your cottage.

The next morning, you wake to the unmistakable sound of your mother cooing like a particularly smitten dove. Your heart sinks as you stumble out of your room, still trying to rub sleep from your eyes.

There, at your kitchen table, sits John- completely at ease, like he’s been your husband for years. He’s drinking your favorite tea blend, bulky frame almost dwarfing the chair, and he’s listening attentively as your mother babbles on about your so-called “devotion.”

“Oh, she was absolutely heartbroken when she thought you wouldn’t come back,” your mother gushes, practically swooning, and your father nods his sagely alongside her tale. “You should have seen her, sitting by the window with her knitting, sighing over those letters. I’ve never seen a girl more in love. My poor daughter!”

John hums appreciatively, lips twitching into that insufferably smug smirk as he glances over at you beneath his equally insufferable beard and mutton chops. “Could tell from the letters,” he says, eyes practically sparkling. “All those sweet words. Such a lucky man I am.”

You grit your teeth, feeling the vein in your temple throb. “I was trying to avoid Thomas.” You mutter, but your mother (thankfully) doesn’t hear you over the sound of her own gleeful rambling.

“Oh, and when she baked those little honey cakes just because you said you liked them! I told her it was too much, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

You freeze. You most definitely did not bake any little honey cakes. Your mother, bless her meddling heart, is getting so caught up in the fantasy she’s started making things up. You shoot her a glare, but John is already giving you that half-lidded, knowing look.

“Honey cakes, eh?” he rumbles, sounding far too interested. “Didn’t know you were so sweet on me, lovey.”

You snatch the teapot from his hands and pour yourself a cup, resisting the urge to pour it over his head instead. “Don’t get used to it.”

Your mother beams, entirely oblivious to your silent war. “Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up. So happy to see you’re finally together!” She bustles out the door, humming cheerfully, and drags your sagely smiling father along with her.

The moment she’s gone, you whirl on John, a fierce glare on your face. “What are you doing?”

He leans back, stretching leisurely, his grin nothing short of wicked. “Having breakfast with my wife. Not how I pictured it, but it’ll do.”

You scoff. “I’m not your wife.”

Price shrugs. “Your letters say otherwise. And your mum’s convinced enough. Can’t exactly leave you now, can I? Wouldn’t be right.”

Your mouth opens, then snaps shut. It’s as if your own trap has snapped back at you, jaws clamped tight around your life. You cross your arms, glowering, and think of something else to say. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, barging in here like you own the place- drinking my favorite tea blend, too!”

He just looks at you, eyes twinkling. “Funny. That’s not what you wrote. Said you missed me. Said you’d make me the sweetest of teas. Said you just couldn’t wait for me to come home.”

“That was fiction, you horrible man!” You hiss, but he just chuckles, entirely unbothered.

Otjer than John, though, you also had another problem that was also caused by him; wedding preparations, the bane of your existence as you’ve come to realize.

Some people look forward to their wedding day- the flowers, the vows, the promise of a life shared. You, however, never pictured it like this, and never expected your “fiancé” to be a man who waltzed into your cottage like he owned it, dropped a stack of letters on the table, and declared himself your soon-to-be-husband. You certainly never imagined he’d take to it so naturally, like he was born to sit at your breakfast table and make himself comfortable with your family.

Your mother, thrilled to bits and practically floating on a cloud of matrimonial bliss, has begun planning the “official” ceremony. Blissfully ignoring your protests (and your thinly veiled threat to elope with the next traveling bard) because she assumes her sweet, beloved daughter is just nervous, she’s already halfway through arranging the entire affair. John, meanwhile, seems to find the whole ordeal oh so terribly amusing.

You find him at the kitchen table one afternoon, carving a piece of wood into something vaguely useful. He’s taken over the end seat- like he’s the head of the household now, of all things, and your father merely laughs sagely- and seems perfectly content to whittle away while you stew in frustration. His coat hangs on the back of the chair, sleeves rolled up, revealing the strong forearms that seem permanently smudged with wood dust and effort.

The door bursts open, and your mother flutters in like an overly enthusiastic magpie, clutching swatches of lace and muttering about floral arrangements as if the fate of the world depends on which flower goes where.

You can practically feel your sanity slipping through your fingers like the flour dust you use in your baking.

“Oh, I’ve spoken to Mrs. Beech about the flowers- she says lilacs would be perfect for the bouquet. Don’t you think so, John?”

Fuck you, Mrs. Bitch-

John doesn’t even look up, his knife still scraping curls of wood from his project. “Lilacs. Sounds nice.” He says with that slow, sure nod of his, like he’s contemplating the tactical advantages of the flower choice even though you just know he has no fucking idea what flowers lilacs are and just knows them by name, not shape.

You glare at him as if sheer force of will could make him combust. “You’re not helping.”

He finally lifts his gaze, an eyebrow raised, amusement curling along his lips, while your mother now frets and flutters around your father. “Don’t think your mum would take ‘no’ from either of us, love.”

You slump back in your chair, arms crossed tight against your chest, trying to will away the traitorous warmth blooming in your stomach. Curse him and his voice. “… I was hoping to at least have a say in my fake wedding.” You mutter in the end.

“Now, now,” he drawls, leaning closer, his voice dropping to that familiar rumble that makes your stomach do a little somersault- so much worse (better) than his usual voice. “A proper husband lets his wife plan the details. I’ll just stand there lookin’ pretty for you.”

Your jaw clenches. You open your mouth to retort, but your mother interrupts with another idea- apparently, she’s already been thinking about colors for John’s suit. “John, you’re so thoughtful! And I’ve been looking at suits- do you prefer navy or charcoal? I do think charcoal brings out the blue in your eyes.”

John glances at you, his lips twitching in a barely suppressed grin. “Whichever makes her happy, ma’am.”

You’re torn between strangling him lightly and strangling him harshly. The worst part is that he doesn’t even sound insincere; he just leans back, all relaxed confidence, like he was born for this domestic chaos just as much as he was built for fighting in ward. You try to glare again, but your resolve falters when he shoots you a quick, soft wink.

Your mother, oblivious to your internal crisis, claps her hands together, now planning the guest list. You sink lower in your chair, wondering if you’d survive being exiled to the woods. John, ever the menace, just gives you a look that promises he’d happily follow you even there and maybe build you a cottage so he can show off those arms of his.

A few days later, you’re back in the kitchen, trying to reclaim some semblance of peace by kneading dough with a vengeance. You don’t even know what you’re baking anymore- scones, maybe? Bread? At this point, it’s less about the final product and more about taking out your frustrations on something pliable and innocent that won’t screech for its life.

John wanders in like he owns the place (again), smelling like the outdoors and freshly chopped wood. He leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, and watches you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Another batch of sweets?” he drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “Didn’t know you were so dedicated. Those famous honey cakes of yours?”

You shoot him a glare. “They’re not for you.”

He raises a brow. “Oh? Someone else in line to be sweet on you?”

You huff, too tired to argue. “They’re for your men.” You snap, your hands practically mauling the dough now. Almost strangling it, to be honest.

A little smile spreads across his face, almost fond. “Didn’t know you were so sweet on them too, love.”

You huff, flour smudging your cheek as you try to actually shape the dough. “They’ve had to put up with your grumpy ass, haven’t they? Thought they deserved a treat… and mum said to, anyways- so don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Before you can blink, his hands slip around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His chin settles on your shoulder, scruffy beard tickling your skin. “You keep spoilin’ them like that, they’ll think you fancy ’em.”

You squirm, but his grip tightens, his breath warm against your neck. “Can’t have that, can we?” His voice is a growl, low and deep. “Better make sure they know who you belong to.”

Forget somersaults, your stomach actually flips. “They know,” You mutter. “Doubt they’d go against their own Captain.”

He hums, nuzzling your temple. “Good. Only one man gets to come home to your bakin’.”

You manage an eyeroll despite your heart pounding like a trapped bird. “You’re ridiculous.”

His lips brush the shell of your ear. “You like me that way.”

When he finally releases you, it’s only to snatch a fresh scone off the tray, biting into it with that satisfied grin of his. “Perfect,” he murmurs around the mouthful, nodding his approval. “But I’ll make sure to tell the lads you made ’em for me.”

You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “What are you, five?”

“Nah. Just a man who likes showin’ off what’s his.”

When he reaches to take another scone, you smack his hand away and he just laughs, the sound rumbling low and warm. He stays with you after that, bothering and pestering you like a stubborn pustule, until all of the scones have been baked and cooled.

And when he kisses your cheek before heading out the door, tipping his boonie hat with a teasing, “Be good, love.” You realize that maybe- just maybe- you should have strangled him when you had the chance.

As revenge for upsetting your stomach, of course.

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

little rendezvous with older! retired john price

mentions of: cheating, vaginal sex, unprotected, john is a lil manipulator if you squint

it was no surprise that john moved on so quickly after his divorce, having a pretty thing under his arm the following week. some may say it was quick, too quick, that maybe, just maybe he cheated. though he justified it by saying that his marriage was loveless anyways, coming home to a cold angry wife made him spend countless nights at the bar, until a sweet thing like you came around. you batted your eyelashes at him, a sweet smile on your lips as you traced his rough stubble. he loved the thrill with you, it made him feel young.

it started off first as a distraction, taking a swig of his beer whilst having a pretty woman talk his ear off, not that he minded. after all, it was a nice change from his constantly irritated wife. you were always dolled up, pretty lashes and a nice gloss on your plump lips that made his eyes draft down every few seconds. he found himself addicted, he wasn’t a man that fell into temptation early, but having someone that showered him with affection and stared at him like he hung the stars in the night sky, it couldn’t help it.

john prides himself as a man with good morals, though that went down the drain six months ago when he took you back to his house before the divorce was even initiated.

“’m sweetheart, you feel so good.”

john groaned as his cock fits snugly into your cunt, your warm walls clenching around him as the bed creaked with each movement. usually, the two of you had your secrecy rendezvous in the shabby motel across the bar, though this time with his wife away for a work trip you were on his bed. guilt gnawed at the back of his head, his wife was blissfully unaware that her husband, her john was currently making love to another woman. your moans were muffled by his large hand, “quiet sweetheart, don’t wanna get caught do you?” it was a lie of course, though you believed every word he said when he told you that his wife was coming home any second just for the thrill. and here you were, so obedient, so quiet. it was a sick sick fantasy that john had, almost role playing as if he wanted to get caught.

“feel good?” you gasped when his hand finally moved, taking a big breath of air as you hiccuped slightly, your eyes slightly dazed as you stared at him. his cock swelled hearing your voice, so sweet, almost insecure and desperate for validation. “of course darlin’, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned as his cock abused your soppy hole, your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him in as he kissed your shoulder, your ankles digging into his lower back.

he knew it was wrong, god the thought of divorce was on his mind but he hasn’t even initiated it, meaning he was still, as of now a married man.

though he didn’t care, not when he found himself cooking breakfast for you that morning, something he never did to his wife. the slow mornings filled with lazy morning sex and cuddled before making you breakfast in bed greatly contrasted to the cold and silent mornings with his wife.

he filed for divorce the following week.

now, he proudly showed you off, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist despite the glares and whispers about his alleged infidelity. though he didn’t care, not when he had you by his side with his cum dripping down your inner thighs from your recent quickie.

[minihotdog]

Minors DNI // nsfw below the cut

cw: use of "daddy", penetration, ignoring partner discomfort, don't poke the bear

John had enough of your attitude. All morning the two of you had been bickering and you had been initiating little conflicts that left him running his hands over his face trying to understand what he'd done wrong.

He warned you multiple times to fix how you were talking to him and you ignored it continuing to poke at him until he snapped.

"S'this what you wanted, love?"

His voice strains as your pussy flutters around him. You whine in response unable to speak. His heavy body covers yours, your legs forced open by his size. His arms curl around you, forcing you to meet his harsh thrusts. His hand has a firm grip on the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair.

He abandons his slow pace and begins driving his hips into yours. He buries his head into your neck. His hot breath fans over your skin. The room fills with your moans and the growls he releases with every brutal thrust.

"This'll teach you. Pickin' fights with me for attention. Just ask for daddy's cock next time."

Your nails dig into his back. The stretch from his length leaves you involuntarily clamping down around him making him see stars of his own. The head of his cock rams into your cervix repeatedly sending white-hot pleasure through you. The feeling is unbearable, too much to feel over and over.

You cry out, "Too deep!" Your nails dig deeper into his skin forcing him to suck in air through his teeth. He continues his pace ignoring your pleading.

"You'll be alright, love."

[softaestluv]

John Price who leans real close when you talk to him, dips his shoulders so he can hear what you’re saying. Makes you flustered everytime he ducks his head next to yours when you two sit together, his shoulder pressed flat against yours.

You think it’s because he likes you. A gesture to show you that he wants to be close to you and listen to what you have to say.

Whole time it’s cause he’s so old he can’t hear shit 😔💔

[spring-rol1]

back at it again with bear!price x fem!reader

John's dick is hung, like big big and h u n g.

First time taking him, had to be a proper setting where pillow under you for support and John even got extra bottle of lube just to be safe. Dont wanna risk hurting the missus.

"S'big...John.."

"I know lovie... Takin me well."

As you slightly writhe from the feeling of the stretch, you look up to him and asked "Is it almost all in?"

And John has to pause a bit before answering "Yep. Almost there luv..." He said as he looks down where the two of you are connected and his dick is still HALFWAY in you.

After a while tho, the blood, sweat and tears slick, were all worth it since your brain is now all mushy and your thoughts evaporated from the power of his thrusts and sounds of wet skin slapping continously.

"J-John! Fffuck!- John- Suu... much!-"

"Stay with me n-now luvie-"

John's hips sputters and increases in speed as his desperstion to cum comes to action (pun intended?)

No other words come out of your mouth except the name of your beloved again and again and again again. What was even your own name?

Your brain goes back and forth from reality and the only thing you could hear and feel was john's entire being, his heavy breathing, his skin slapping into yours, his calloused hands, his deep grunts, his hairy chest pressing onto you, his arms hairier than usual, his teeth sharper.

The only you could feel was john, john here, john there, john john john

"John! Jo-John! Im cumming!-" your high pitched moans werent ignored as John's hand comes down between you and him to rub circles around your clit, successfully tightening your body and your stomach tensing just the right amount to-

"John!" your arms desperetly grab onto his back and leaving red welts on its wake.

John deeply groans as he feels your cunt tightening and milking him dry as he spurts his cream in you. As the both of you catch your breath.

He didnt even realize, his body almost got turned into his bear form

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Texting the COD men that you can’t pay rent!

Tags: COD men x fem!Reader, smau, suggestive, nsfw on soap’s slide, cursing, mdni

An: Based off of the tiktok trend :3 I wanted to do this with JJK men, but I think the COD men make it even funnier. This is also my first COD smau. I went with the characters that I’m most comfortable portraying. lmk if you want to see more of them or someone else!

Incl - Ghost, König, Price, Keegan, Soap