#captain price headcanons

[blckbrrybasket]

ᯓ★ 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

MDNI

SFW

- King of telling the other soldiers of 141 to “knock it off.” They never do.

- Price sees Gaz, Soap, and Ghost as his boys but is shocked off of his chair when they view him even remotely as a father figure.

- No one has ever had to check if he was alive when asleep because he snores like he’s being exorcised.

- Used to be a boy scout and NEVER lets 141 forget it. He prides himself on his knotting skills. If you ask about it you’re in for a two hour long lecture.

- Had a punk phase when he was younger, like Soap. When he was a teen he hated all authority. When he sees old pictures of himself he cringes at the hairstyles, but not at his rebelliousness.

- During a mission Price took a cut to the face and had to shave his mutton chops to get stitches. He had an existential crisis. Afterwards he swore if it ever happened again nature could take its course instead of him shaving again.

- Knows slang from Gaz and Soap so he can follow along enough to understand half the shit they say. When they yap back and forth he heavily sighs and covers his face.

SFW (serious)

- Wants to badly to be a family man, but he would never have kids to leave them while deployed. His own family has passed on or moved away. There’s a reason why he invites Ghost over during the holidays.

- Price dreads the day he has to bury one of his boys. Loses sleep over the thought, gets upset if the prospect of them dying is ever mentioned. Lost himself a bit when Soap died. All he could think about is that it was his fault Soap died. It can’t happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

- Absolutely would not want a partner to ‘kiss his boot’ so to speak. He views partnership as equality. If you’re unwell and can only give 40% to help with chores or such he’ll give 60%, but when you’re doing okay and he’s unwell he wants the same reciprocation.

- I think Price personally doesn’t like therapy for himself. He understands the importance of it, but doesn’t want to attend it knowing that once he shares a bit a dam will break and everything will resurface in his memory.

- Price forgets sometimes what it’s like to be a kid, but he sees a lot of his younger self in Gaz. Gaz wants to be more like Price but Price wants Gaz to be better than him. He hopes to whatever god there is that Gaz is a better man than me. Price is a good man but he has a hard time viewing himself as such.

- During a break up or if someone rejects price he accepts it pretty easily as he sees its already over if they’re rejecting him. He doesn’t want to have to fight for someone to love him. He still wonders every now and again what he did wrong.

NSFW

- Price gets off at you receiving the best pleasure you can. Anything you want within reason he’ll do. It isn’t a problem for him to give up control. To him it’s never about control, it’s about you enjoying yourself.

- If you thought Ghost was private Price is another level. Ghost lets things sleep here and there, but Price was never one to kiss and tell.

- Price is a gentleman who takes you out for dinner then has you for dessert.

- He knows what he’s doing and he knows what his voice does to you. Price will purposely lower his voice when talking with you just to see your thighs squeeze together. “What was that sweetheart?” As if he hadn’t sat there for a good minute thinking of the best innuendo to say.

- Breeding kink. AMAB or AFAB Price will talk his shit when pounding into you. He would never intentionally get you pregnant, even if the thought overwhelms his senses.

- His favorite body part of you is your back. Price loves running his hands over the skin as he grinds into you from behind. Every now and again he gets lost in his thoughts and starts massaging the tension from your shoulders while his cock released the tension from below.

- So damn cheeky. Price has his own streak of not following rules, you can’t expect him not to tease you. He isn’t horrible, but he would pull you onto his lap to slowly make out keeping the same pace and holding your hips still so you can’t grind. “What?” He chuckles against your lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

- Takes aftercare so seriously. Step by step methodical treatment, but it doesn’t seem cold at all. Every action is filled with care. He’s a man of habit and makes sure he checks every box in making sure you’re taken care of. It’s sweet!

[empresskylo]

captain john price x afab!reader

cod masterlist

john price who is determined to show you how sex should really be after you confess to not having the best experiences in bed.

john price who takes it slow and focuses on you the entire time. making you squirm, nervous under his intense gaze.

john price who doesn’t let you close your legs as he’s weaseling his way down to press his tongue to your clit.

john price who watches as this foreign feeling overtakes you, not used to your pleasure being the focus.

john price who has to hold your stomach and thighs down as he eats you out, moaning against you as if this is his favorite thing in the world (it is).

john price who gets you to orgasm on his tongue. on his fingers. on his face. all before he even considers fucking you. prying your orgasms from you like they're a prize.

john price who asks if you're sure after begging him for more. you never would have thought you’d have to beg a man to fuck you, so used to men just taking what they want.

john price who is slow as he sinks into you, muttering all the little praises. “s’feel s’good, princess.” “so fuckin’ tight.” “you’re doin’ s’good for me.” and saying “that’s my good girl,” once he’s fully seated. “takin’ me so fuckin' well.”

john price who fucks you missionary so he can watch all your facial expressions. he loves the way you cling to him, your nails running down his back. and he likes to intertwine your fingers, pressing your joined hands into the mattress.

john price who knows your clit is receiving friction in this position and smirks when you roll your eyes back.

john price who gets angry when you tell him no one’s ever been this gentle and attentive to you.

john price who kisses you softly, asking you how you’re feeling. making sure you’re enjoying yourself.

john price who doesn’t care about his own release, and instead is helping you chase yours. “not till you come, sweetheart.” “but what about you?” “don’t worry 'bout me. i jus’ wanna make you feel good.”

john price who sees the disbelief on your face and wants to reassure you that he’s enjoying himself too, “makes my dick hard watching you squirm and moan under me.”

john price who gets you to come on his cock, his fingers expertly rubbing your clit. you squeeze down on him so hard he groans and follows close behind you.

john price who says “you did s’good for me,” while he’s still balls deep inside you.

john price who smirks at your languid state, your chest rising rapidly as you pant, your face flushed, your eyes heavy. “that’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

john price who pulls out of you with a grunt, rolling to his side to face you. “maybe you should show me again. i don’t think i fully understood.”

john price who calls you a “naughty girl,” and happily fucks you into oblivion again.

[the-californicationist]

MDNI - NSFW @ cut

When you decide to let John Price hit it raw for the first time, you ask him to get checked out and he agrees.

When you come over to John Price’s apartment to show him your clean bill of health from the clinic, and he opens his in front of you, he gives you a devilish grin.

When John Price lays you on the bed and you hear his buckle rattling in the quiet bedroom, listening to both of your ragged breathing, heavy and full of anticipation.

When you help John Price with his zipper and he makes that growling sighing noise in his throat.

When John Price rubs his cockhead against your clit, knowing how wet it makes you.

When John Price lingers there, playing with you on his cock long enough to have you bucking up into him like his needy little slut.

When John Price slips the head of his fat dick low enough to dip into the wetness of your swollen hole, kissing you with his tip just inside of your pink pussy, and he shudders like he’s going to come too fast.

When John Price finally slides his heavy shaft inside of you without a condom, letting you feel every warm, veiny detail of his dick, pulsing his long muscle so you can feel him throbbing.

When John Price makes the most insane, animal noises because he can feel the searing heat radiating from your core, warming his cock like a pretty little fire.

When John Price empties his load into you, filling you with bursts of his creamy, white come, and you can feel it as it settles in you for the first time.

When John Price presses your legs apart and insists on watching his come drip out of your tight cunt, smearing it all over your folds with his fingers, and telling you what a good girl you are for him.

When John Price wakes you up in the middle of the night and places your hand gently against his still-hard cock, begging you for round two because he’s so hungry for your bare pussy.

[lunarw0rks]

farmer!price & sweet little girl next door!reader (yes i’m thinking about this pairing in the most perverted way possible)

a/n: here it is. the long-awaited neighbor!price fic <3 Hopefully, you all enjoy these Price crumbs. anon is onto something ;) & thx for the dog name ideas! ⊹。°˖➴ ao3 ver. // word count: 6.9k

// warning(s); nsfw (18+), implied age gap [r is mid-twenties, price is early/mid-forties], dadbod!price agenda, oral (r.), p/v unsafe sex, fem!reader

Price is living out his recluse dreams. Retired and secluded, finally! It was more than he’d wished for, honestly. He always desired a patch of land far from town, leaving out scraps for the critters, finding the simple pleasures.

But here he was, with a small, self-sufficient farm, growing enough to feed himself. It was a quiet, rewarding lifestyle. Entirely the opposite of his years in the service. Right now, he found himself conquering his lost list of mundane tasks. Watering his herbs, then sorting the junk that accumulated in his storage shed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After a grueling afternoon of unpacking, you needed to unwind. Right now, you found yourself lounging on your deck, head tilted back as you shielded your eyes from the summer sun. As if moving and assembling furniture wasn't exhausting enough — now you had the sweltering star beating down on you.

Abruptly, you feel something soft brush against your legs. Before you can open your eyes, there's a hefty weight plunged atop your lap. Your eyes snap open, greeted with the hot breath of a smiling golden retriever.

You caress the blonde fur, receiving several licks along your hand. "Zeus! down, boy!" A husky voice shouts, followed by the face to match it. The eager, not-so-small ball of fluff hops off your lap, prancing toward the man walking around the side of your house.

A charcoal gray t-shirt hugging his buff but girthy body. A man who's been in shape for years — arms bulging and tanned from hours of working outside, all whilst his older years have caught up to him a bit on his stomach, which stuck out with just a bit of fat cushion.

"My apologies, he knows better." He rubbed his head and flashed an apologetic look, exposing the faint abs you'd already imagined on him at first glance. Price's eyes wandered you from top to bottom, nearly forgetting to unfurrow his brow.

What a sight for sore eyes, you were.

You peer down at your lap, now stained with dirt in the shape of paws — on your thighs and the shorts you're wearing. "Oh, not a big deal! he gave me quite a scare, but it was a pleasant surprise." You look over at Zeus, his tail thwacking against his owner's leg.

For a few moments, all he did was leer, before he snapped himself out of it. "John," he steps forward as if going to shake hands but retracts hastily.

"—'m all covered in dirt, wouldn't want to get you dirtier than Zeus already has, hm?" He chuckles when he finishes his rhetorical, smearing the dirt onto his denim pants.

You shake your head and chuckle gently, “no room for pleasantries in the countryside, is there?” You case his appearance again, eyes skimming his muscles.

John flashes a polite smile, muttering a reply before hooking a finger around the Golden’s red collar. “Be seeing you.” He effectively leads the sparky dog out of your yard, preventing both any more surprise attacks and more ogling on his part.

Not only was getting a new neighbor a surprise, but her being so damn tempting — an entirely different genre of awe.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Yesterday wasn’t your smoothest first impression. looking rugged and sweaty from unpacking, ending up covered in dirt and in awkward conversation. You wanted a second chance. He was going to be your neighbor after all — and it wasn’t like there were many others. John was the only one within reasonable walking distance, it seemed.

Now, wearing a sundress as opposed to sweat-caked shorts and a tee — you were more confident in your odds of at least being civil with your neighbor. At the very least, a man who would roll up your trash bins before a storm. Perhaps even supply a spare cup of sugar if you were being optimistic.

You trudge down the dirt road, careful not to roll your ankle on the unpredictable mounds of earth. For a few moments, you’re convinced you’ve gone the wrong way. It’s either dense forest, patches of crop, or more road ahead of you.

Lord knows you were exhausted yesterday, maybe the handsome neighbor was just a figment in your fried mind. A foolish thought — but one that worsened the longer you walked.

The tray in your hands; a few oatmeal dog biscuits and some cookies made from the recipe on the chocolate chip bag. It was better than coming empty-handed, wasn’t it? That would just be distasteful judgment.

With eyes glued ahead, you nearly let the handles of the platter slip when you finally spotted the lights in the distance. Golden-tinted and countless, illuminating the updated cabin. In the yard, lay a few scattered chewed ropes and muddy tennis balls. You could safely assume you made it to the suave man’s residence.

You knock on the oak door, seeing the hues of a television flickering through some of the bent blinds. After a few seconds of mumbling, the door swung open.

Price answered with a beer in one of his fists, instantly straightening his posture when he laid eyes on you. The sundress; cherry red with splotches of tiny florals. Dusk sunbeams highlighted your bone structure seamlessly — casting an ethereal glow on your captivating flesh.

Today, instead of gray, his shirt is army green and just as snug of a fit. You can't help but prolong your stare when he leans against the doorway, his bicep bulging even when he stands with nonchalance. He's even more of a knockout when not covered in dirt; though you suppose the same could be applied to you.

"This is a surprise." He glances at the tray in your hands, then at the polite smile on your face as you flash it in his direction.

With a beam, you extend the platter out and wait for him to take it. "I wasn't sure when to come. I hope I'm not intruding." You speak softly, catching a glimpse of his tidy living space.

“No such thing as intrusion around here, eh? ‘m practically searching for chores these days. A little conversation won’t bother me any.” Price chuckles a bit, flicking his head as an invitation for you to join him.

You step inside behind him, engulfed by the scent of tobacco and cedarwood. The cabin's interior walls have been stained with a warm tint, stretching throughout what bits of the space you can spot. Immediately through the front door is his kitchen, likely the most modernized of the rooms.

Distressed, truffle-colored counters in an L shape; altogether enough space for a man living alone. Yet, the countertops are anything but cluttered — nearly spotless, in fact. He slides the tray across the counter, finally unveiling the homemade treats for both human and man's best friend.

"Figured chocolate chip would be simple enough, right?" You speak up, watching him examine one of them. For a few moments, he's lost in thought again, not taking a bite.

You furrow your brows, "please don't tell me I baked the one dessert you don't like."

Instantaneously, a grin smears on his face, then a rumbly snicker. "Nothing like that," he bites the cookie in half and savors its sweetness, "—just not used to having neighbors this deep in the woods, you're my first. And she can bake too, huh? Aren't I lucky?" He teases a bit at the end, rinsing off some chocolate residue from his scarred fingertips.

Well, it was only the recipe on the back of a bag, so you surely hope it would taste decent. You decide it best to leave that out, merely twirling your thumbs as he shuffles around the space.

Finally, he walks back around the counter and holds out the same beer he sipped when he answered the door. Your reluctant fist wrapped around the brown bottle's glass neck, following him as he led you to the porch.

“Weren’t you watching something?” You question, sitting yourself beside him on the cement steps. Zeus’ collar jingle sounded once the back door closed, the sound a signal for him to join his owner out back.

John shook his head, taking another sip of the brew as his achy muscles relaxed again. “You’re doing me a favor; I could cut back on my screen time.” He reached out his free hand and gently patted the dog’s head, giving his fur a few strokes.

“Cut back? By the looks of your land, you’re outside all day.” You retort with a playful scoff, feeling the nuzzle of a wet nose along your leg. Without shame, you glance at his hands, observing their size and condition. “The callouses don’t lie.”

You piqued his interest at the mention of his hands, and he'd noticed just how long you were staring at them. "Suppose you're right, love." On purpose, he caressed the neck of the bottle with his thumb. He takes another hefty sip, which prompts you to take your first.

You didn't have the heart to tell him before how much you disliked the taste. The tangy beer coated your mouth and throat, seemingly sliding down at an agonizing pace just to prolong the torment. Still, the scrunch of your face spilled enough of the fib.

"Faces don't lie, either." Price mocked, taking the barely touched bottle from your grip. His words held double meaning — one harmless and one sinful — though that truth was unbeknownst to both of you.

In a matter of seconds, you'd been caught in a petty lie. You wipe away the bit that dripped between your lips. "Guess you caught me," you chortle, "I don't like beer much."

"Much? Don't be so modest." He screws the top back on and sets it on the wooden deck beside him. "You hate it, don't you?"

The way he spoke had you in some sort of trance. Perhaps it was his age, perhaps it was his obvious past of influence. It was... like being interrogated. Not in the pathetic way an inexperienced civilian would mock his way through, either. The agitation of being put on the spot — feeling as though you'd done something illegal the second you approach airport security.

That is what this felt like; only the words came tender and sportive.

“Alright, I hate it.” You affirm, unable to wipe the simper off your face. “We’ve officially made it through our first lie. That’s a milestone, right? Saves us the sting later.” Unintentionally, you haven’t broken your stare — even when he did to gaze at the sunset in front of him.

Later? Would this company become a routine? How wrong was it for him to hope it would?

Eventually, he nods and turns to face you again, shamelessly taking you in like it was the first time. “Ah, you’re like me. Ten steps ahead, got everything planned out already.” He questions, squinting slightly from the bright dusk, which was actively being snuffed by storm clouds. "Besides, I could tell your lie from miles away. The way you fumbled that bottle."

You waved a flustered hand of dismissal. "Yeah, yeah. Point taken. I'll remember that next time."

John cocked a brow, "next time, eh? With no more fibbing?" He asked you jovially, once again putting you under his spotlight.

But this time you knew how to handle it. Besides, you had learned his ways of meaningless banter — despite only spending several minutes with the man. "Next time I'll make sure it's not so obvious, and you'll be none the wiser."

"It was more than how I held the bottle," you added accusingly. "You don't just afford a place like this with retirement savings. Not without sacrifices."

He was more than someone who once had a mundane, meaningless job. You could tell it from 'miles away' he was a man who had stories to tell. More than his scarred body already did, that was. A fierce career, a position of power — something cutthroat, literally.

Of course, you had no intention of prying. Screwing this relationship up prematurely would be a grave mistake.

Fortunately, he remained untouched by your suspicions; they intrigued him. And John, he knew you weren't wrong about him, either. He was one of the few souls who could confidently declare he'd seen it all — or the closest thing to it.

"Sacrifices... is a way to put it," his lips curled into a polite smile. Finally, he stopped staring holes into you and caught a whiff of musky petrichor in the air. "C'mon, we're due for rain. Get you inside before the mosquitos feast on us."

The same lips pursed, letting out a sharp whistle to recall Zeus. He transformed from a blond dot in the distance into a prancing canine at the speed of light, slowing to a prance when he laid eyes on his owner.

With one hand, he held both bottlenecks between his thick fingers, then opened the back door with the other. Zeus nudged your legs and walked through them, determined to get inside first. The sight made you snicker as you walked inside, hearing the soft creak of the door behind you.

His work boots thudded against the wooden floor as he took them off, setting them neatly beside the door. Yet another unusual trait for men his age living alone, at least in your experience. No clutter in sight, and no grime residue from his tireless yard work.

Now, his steps are a glide instead of thuds when he walks around the breakfast bar. You turned to face him, watching as he ignited a burner for the kettle. "Do you fancy drinking something you'll actually enjoy? Tea?"

You lean against the island, unintentionally allowing a bit of the dress neckline to droop.

“Tea will work.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

In front of you were the only signs of his old self. Metals and ribbons encased behind a glass frame, hung up in the hall as a quaint display of his achievements. Below them, on the hall table, decorative mason jars; most with faux leaves and vines. You made your way up and down, admiring how the rustic, shipshape decor was placed with such intention.

As your gaze panned left to right, you made it to the end of the display. Interest arose when you examined the last jar; a small mason with a bullet inside, littered with indents and some bits chipped away. Your mind swirled with scenarios as you put together the story told in front of you. A career so intense, so all-important; it was difficult to imagine the man in the kitchen enmeshed in one.

In the distance, the kettle whistles, effectively ripping you from your peering. Before he can shout for you, you’ve walked around the corner, ready to claim a drink your mouth will savor.

“Here you are.” Across the marble countertop, Price slid forward the mug.

A green tea of sorts, with a bit of cream on top and a dust of cinnamon. The presentation is nowhere near seamless, with its lopsided spoonful of foam and granules that ended up sprinkled unevenly through his fingers. Still, there was nothing wrong with a drink that looked homemade.

“Matcha?” You ask, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the mug, then using your supporting hand to hold the small plate it’s resting on.

Price glances at the tea box through the frosted glass cabinets then nods. When he presses his own mug to his lips, the tea is ebony and swirling like a cyclone from the sugar he mixed in.

From the corner of your eye, you skim past him and gaze out the window overlooking the deep copper sink. Through its rectangular pane, you see the string of herbs and leaves grown — well-tended and used often in his cooking, surely.

You point a free finger towards the fresh greens outside, “do you grow it?”

He lets out a rumbly chuckle and shakes his head, “if I could. Matcha plants are loads of work.” You now spot the pasty green box poking through the cabinet, which you hadn’t noticed when too occupied with the herb planters.

You mutter a ‘hm’ in response and raise the porcelain rim to your lips, feeling the steam scald the tip of your nose and Cupid's bow. The vegetal fragrance of the green tea soothes your senses — just before the spice of cinnamon gives them a right hook.

To keep your eyes from tearing, you close them and take your first sip. It’s thicker than you anticipated, coating your mouth and throat as you swallow, yet the taste is pleasant and earthy.

Whatever John had done to prepare it, he did it correctly. That much you could tell.

Before your throat can sizzle with aftertaste, the cold foam dollop calms it. From grassy, fresh matcha to a striking sweet cream.

“You have a bit…” Price motions to his mouth, an index pointed toward the left corner of his mouth. The cream is too airy for you to notice any accidental residue. You’ve missed the swear twice before he sighs and raises a crumpled napkin to your lips.

You meet gazes while he dabs at your bottom lip, feeling any confidence seep from you in an instant.

The sweet aroma fleeted instantly with the proximity, now with your nostrils flooded with his fragrance. Smokey and masculine; something rum-adjacent, mixed sinfully with cedarwood and the earthy smell of crisp soil. And then, lastly, there are the pungent remnants of his minty mouthwash, which is slightly diluted by the black tea he swallowed.

This close, you can trace every wrinkle and line with your eyes. While you’re engulfed in his presence, he’s observing. Smothered and suffocating with the weight of diminishing continence. The vermillion sundress, the tray of goodies in the corner of his vision, the twitch of your lips as he dabs and drags with the linen.

Price has yet to notice his other hand, grabbing the tip of your chin with a feather-like hold.

But you have, blinking rapidly a few times while the chalky foam is rid of your mouth, which might as well have been thrown in the trash along with the napkin — because you’ve turned reticent.

“There.” He whispers, mouth curling into a polite glow.

Ultimately, your haze falters. Your senses unfreeze when you’re no longer swarmed by his aroma, or his tender touch when he walks back around the breakfast bar. Warmth coaxes your fingers, still emanating from the tea snug in your grip — even after the milky olive-tinted liquid has gone tepid.

With a perpetually widened gaze, you raised your mug to finish off the rest of your tea. This neighborly visit had played out differently than you expected. You savored about half of the lukewarm brew, letting it mellow the pining that arose when he got close. Sweaty fingers fumbled around the handle when you tipped the cup again, sending a gush of tea down the front of your outfit. The fabric stained instantaneously as the warmth soaked in, whilst the sugary cream made the dress cling in an unsavory, sticky fashion.

You cursed audibly and darted your gaze towards him apologetically, setting the mug down with a clammer. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, feeling an ocean’s wave of dishonor pummel through you at once.

John, who was mid-cleanup, jerked his head to the side when he heard the commotion. When greeted with the frazzled expression, he made an effort to soothe it. It wasn’t your fault; it was only some overpriced, boxed infusion that had collected dust in the back of his cabinet. 

Besides, you were in front of him, now in soaked clothing and apologizing profusely.

“Don’t apologize. Happens to the best of us.” That damn smile again. The wrinkles around his eyes, the almost all-knowing look of understanding in them.

He fisted your discarded mug, turning on the sink.

“The washroom is down the hall, in my room. It has a better mirror than the half.” Price wavers through his instructions, overcome with his own helping of uncertainty. Nothing had gone explicitly wrong, per se, but it didn’t mean they went right. But they never do, do they? There’s a reason he decided on a life of recluse, even more, a reason for him to befriend seclusion so closely.

Your footsteps retreated down the hall, passing the picture frames and decor you had been admiring moments ago. John scrubbed both mugs until they were full of suds and then rinsed, placing them on the dish rack afterward. He made it a habit to never leave used dishes to sit in the sink.

Quickly, he walked through the open door of his bedroom. Golden beams peeked out from the gap under the door, where you were frantically blotting the stains. He pulled the string on his bedside lamp, illuminating a majority of the moody, rustic bedroom. His fingers hooked around the handle, gently sliding open the pocket doors of his closet.

His t-shirts hung neatly on the left wall, whilst his fewer button-ups remained on the opposite. With a quick hum, he took hold of his baggiest navy blue tee, draping it over his forearm. From inside his dresser, he grabbed a pair of sweats that were tight on him — enough to prevent them from slipping down your legs.

Inside the bathroom, you alternated between being hunched over the counter in embarrassment, to rubbing your dress profusely. The damp washcloth was doing little to the fabric, which was a few shades darker from the liquid, compressing tighter against you. It wasn’t a flattering look, nor was it a comfortable fit anymore. Akin to the feeling of maple syrup residue on your hands after breakfast, only it was covering the front of your body.

Would it have been better to spill on his authentic wood floors? Was it completely selfish to prefer it, to spare the discomfort of a soaked garment?

Two subdued knocks on the door halted your useless wiping. “I have some clothes.” The gruff voice spoke through the door, yet remained as placid as it was in the kitchen.

“Oh, no need,” you replied dismissively through the door. “I can change at home.” You tossed the wet towel into the small hamper. When you opened the door, Price remained standing there, fresh clothing in hand.

The thought was there, and now were the actions to go along. You didn’t want to change at home or be walking down that dirt avenue at all. At this hour, home would be lonesome and still, regardless of whether your new neighbor was fanciable or not.

But he was; that made him all the harder to decline.

Void of any attempt on John’s part, his gaze scanned the mess that covered you. This time, more obvious than he would’ve liked. It felt wrong; downright distasteful and discouraging, to do so.

Howbeit, he did — and you sensed it this time. The unavoidable gawking at your snug gown, devouring his dwindling abstinence. No unease, imminence, or desire to dismiss yourself ever came. Not like it did with men on the street, who resembled that of depraved, hungry hounds.

John wasn’t corrupted; behind the lust, there was something more, something too complex to daydream.

“Nonsense.” He persisted, the clothes remaining outstretched. “It’s raining. And you’ve got to walk quite a way, don’t you?”

You leaned your head against the thick wood of the door, unable to spit out another worthy excuse. “Thank you. Really.” With a nod, you took the folded clothing, setting the pieces on the countertop beside you. As he accepted your answer and turned on his heels, you mustered the gut to speak again.

“And, John?” You stepped through the threshold of the door, “if I go home in these clothes, you probably won’t get them back.”

“I’ll keep the dish, then.” This time, he didn’t back away after stepping closer. “Do we have a deal?” His breathing picked up subtly but was noticeable against your face. When faced with his proximity before, you fumbled a mug. But now, you were certain of every ache and desire troubling you.

Whoever leaned in first became a fleeting afterthought. It didn’t matter, not while your mouths and noses clashed together. He was the first to give way, to tilt his head to relieve the pressure on your nose, which allowed him more mobility.

Your knees nearly buckled when his hands cupped your cheeks — how the calloused prints of his fingers felt against the opposing texture of your face. It felt natural; a relief to every urge you’ve stifled from the moment he answered his door.

Before you broke away for air, he removed his lips while still maintaining his tender hold on your face.

“Are you sure about this…?” Price posed, pressing his forehead against yours. You exchanged each other's exhales, cloaking your racing thoughts with a suffocating, dizzy effect.

Still, regardless of your thundering heartbeat and draining lungs — you uttered the quickest yes of your lifetime. This time, you turned your head when lips and teeth clashed, back colliding with the door. Your lips parted as you panted, letting his tongue swipe along your lips, leaving them saturated. His beard audibly scraped against your jaw and down your neck, producing goosebumps as you shivered.

Though his movements weren’t theatrical or jaw-dropping, they left you unable to lose focus. His hands wrapped around the sleeves of the ruined gown, rolling the fabric down while he dropped into a kneel before you.

A need to provide, to satisfy, to satiate. No teases, no dramatics; just utter experience. The only terms you would associate with him currently.

The clingy fabric peeled off like a sticky bandage, peeling to expose the damn stain from cleavage to your pelvis. John’s briefly raised to suckle between your breasts, cleaning off every drop of the tea that had soaked through the discarded dress. Down; sternum to belly button, savoring the small remnants of the sweet cream.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, lips pressed to your lower stomach. His hands moved and kneaded your hips in worship. Despite his face hovering in front of your panties, and how he was actively trailing kisses along your thighs — his voice never changed. Not cloaked with blind lust or hesitation.

Admiration, purely; for you, maybe only your body. But you didn’t care about that — or couldn’t — right now. John was utterly too much, From light conversation to huddling in the restroom, then to being backed against the door. One hand rested on your lower stomach, as a means of keeping your back against the door. The other rolled your undergarments down at a sluggish pace, beard and lips following the falling undies.

Your neck craned down, seeing them fall to your ankles, shortly before the cold breeze hit your exposed core — emanating from the bathroom window left slightly ajar. The muscles in your thighs tense when Price’s tongue finally makes brief contact with it, blown pupils still staring up at you.

His tongue lay flat against your clit for a few moments until saliva rolled down his tongue, allowing him to delve deeper. Further on, he would kiss and suckle on the bundle of nerves, and you were sure your grip on the knob couldn’t have been firmer. Experience truly was the right word to describe him, earlier and now more than ever.

Along your slit, he plunged inside, growly breaths vibrating against your sensitivity. Your taste coated his mouth, and your natural scent drove him mad; like no other partner he’d had before.

“Wanna feel you—” Price slurped again, then pulled away to finish, “—clench around my fingers. You want that, sweetheart?” His tongue glistened under the spotty lighting, his buff chest still heavy. He was goddamn distracting in this state, more than he was before.

After a flash of muteness, you nodded your head. As if you could pass up that offer; if it was an offer at all.

True to his word and the desires racing through his head, John slipped his middle finger inside your entrance. Instantly, the appendage glided against the soaked, puffy walls of your cunt, causing him to chuckle with satisfaction.

Even the smallest pump forced a whine from your lips, though you were unsure what you should be pleading for. Tonight, this feeling was already unsurpassed.

“Another, huh? Can’t fuckin’ say no to you, can I?” Next entered his ring finger, the thick digits stretching you out delectably, in ways you could only dream of executing with your own two fingers.

His name slipped out when he curled them against your sweet spot, daring your knees to buckle and send both of you tumbling. His eerily observant nature had him anticipating the sudden weakness, and his other hand holding you in place never once faltered. Finding his shaggy hair, your fingers intertwined with the locks, purely to be holding onto anything of his when you inevitably come undone.

Back to slobbering, his tongue ran laps against your swollen clit, the tip of his nose knocking against it with every pass. Each flick, each thrust making your back arch wildly against the door. And once again, as he anticipated, you ended up clenching around his fingers like he wanted.

So tense, it was any wonder Price was able to keep moving his fingers. His erection pressed against his thigh, the tight denim making him resist the urge to squirm. Oh, how you sounded, how you felt. His years of stamina and strength training will surely be tested once it’s his cock filling you up instead.

The nub throbbed and visibly pulsed when he combined a well-timed lick and curl all at once, plunging you off that cliff of release. Around his head, your thighs clamped tighter than the fingers digging into his scalp. It was clear you’d be reeling this feeling for days to come, probably a climax to forever be unbeaten during your life.

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, your lungs exhausted and working overtime as you sucked in desperate breaths. “Fuck— that was…” You breathed, unable to articulate any one of the feelings assaulting your system.

The leer tugging at the corners of his soaked mouth wasn’t smug, it was pleased; pleasantly. Slowly, he raised himself, holding each side of your face. Price slurred, “You sound lovely when you cum, y’know that?” Before you could lift a finger to answer again, his dangerous tongue swirled around yours, spreading the taste of yourself against your taste buds.

Your sticky inner thighs glided when he blindly led you out of the threshold, collapsing atop you. The frame creaked under the weight of both of you, the mattress now with a crater in the center of it.

“Want you to fuck me, John. Please.” You pleaded between kisses, unconsciously wrapping a leg around his waist for any friction on the mess he caused. The sensitive tip of his cock ached, despite only being rocked against through the thick denim.

As if your sounds of pleasure weren’t divine enough, that fucking word was. Please. So desperate, so distraught. If he had the restraint or the patience, Price might coax a few more begs out of you — but those were the two things he didn’t have currently.

Briefly, his touches ceased when he leaned back. Swiftly unbuckling his belt, he slid out of his jeans and tossed them aside; discarded, now the only clutter in the bedroom. Soaked through his grey briefs, a stain of pre-cum, merely proving how badly he needed you. The same as his jeans, he rid himself of them, erection upright and freed.

Girthy and curved upward a hair, capable of reaching deeper than his fingers. Down his happy trail, which you got a peak of during the first encounter, were his trimmed pubes. The same shade of brown as the hair littering his chest. You examined further, spotting a few prominent veins bound to drive you mad.

Any longer without it, and you were willing to start pawing at him. The stars must’ve been aligned, because pleading wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Spread your legs f’me.” You did, as swiftly as he uttered the command. As wide as comfortable, you exposed the mess of your pussy to him, reflecting off the cool moonlight peaking through his blinds. Glistening and twitching from the first climax, remnants still left around your inner thighs. “Gonna fill you up, fuck you proper, hm? Have you clenching around me?”

As if his fingers weren’t euphoric enough. Gnawing on your bottom lip until it ached, you nodded your head eagerly, hooking an arm around your leg to keep the shaky limb steady.

Price gripped the base of his cock, guiding it toward your entrance. The tip slipped in as smooth as honey, coated in slick and strings of his saliva leftover. With a drenched glide, the rest of him dipped inside, until his pelvis was against yours.

Entirely crammed inside, your head lolled back against the comforter, reeling in the painless stretch of his girth. And how, before the movements began, the natural curve of his cock had him snug against your cervix, kissing all the right places within you. Your fingers trailed downward, beginning to rub circles around your responsive clit, the wet clicks combining with the squelch of his thrusts.

Whatever noises came from you were all-natural and uncontrollable, from a sensual place within you never trespassed. John grunted with every tighten around his length, pumping deeply and with more force. His thoughts earlier rang true, how little restraint you left him with. Already, he could’ve finished inside of you — just from the view of your body alone.

Breasts bouncing, hips jiggling, the sounds of your soaked core, the expression on your face as he got rougher. “Such a good girl, takin’ every inch of me,” his words came out grunts, matching the pace of his jabs.

“You’ll cum for me again, and let me hear those bloody sounds, won’t you? Fuckin’ touching yourself, all needy.” For him, the words acted as a distraction until you came undone for a second time. For you, it enhances your stimulation tenfold — his voice was like nectar, yet it rumbled through the room like thunder.

It mixed with the real thunder outside, which you caught bits of between everything. The rain he said the area was due for, faintly coming down in the distance, and surely headed this way by the time your legs shook.

With a soft nudge, he shimmied closer between your thighs, chest inches from yours, and allowed him to slam against your cervix. Your fingers had gone erratic, desperately teasing the bundle of nerves the closer you got to release.

And John, sure of this, allowed himself to focus on a fraction of his pleasure. You twitched around his length, swallowing every last inch of him. Arousal dribbled from you to the bed, soaking into the navy blue duvet.

When the coil of pleasure began bursting at the seams, his name slipped out again, in between your gasps for oxygen. How his thrusts had turned as sloppy as your fingers, every jerk of his pelvis knocking the wind out of you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, feet hooking under his backside to keep him locked in — as if the thought of stopping had ever crossed his mind.

Thighs quivering like your fingers were, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in his flesh. Yet another string of moans poured out of you, which tipped John over the edge same edge you’d tumbled off twice. His balls contracted while they drained, strings of pearly cum painting you on the inside.

Warmth filled you, from your tummy to your core, his length swimming in his own sloppy release. Your constricted ab muscles slowly eased up as the aftermath of orgasm faded, leaving you breathless and spent. His agape mouth dipped down as he withdrew his softening cock from you slowly, careful to not leave you any more sensitive than you already were.

The kiss distracted you and served as a reminder of what this hookup meant. Not regretful, not meaningless. Something lingered in the air, beyond the smell of sweat and sex.

Though his body begged to collapse atop you and fall fast asleep, you deserved to be taken care of. Price planted a parting kiss on your jaw, making the short trip to the bathroom to grab one of his fresh washcloths.

Silently, you observed his tenderness take over — even though it never left him. With a few featherlike swipes, he wiped away the messy aftermath of arousal, saliva, and cum, disposing of the used towel somewhere in the darkness.

You fought to stay awake, feeling his weight sink beside you once more after some squirming around. Eventually, John successfully got you and himself under the thick comforter, weighted and radiating as much warmth as your bodies. An arm snaked under your head, your back against his chest. The other arm around your waist, keeping you right up against his soft body.

He waited until he saw the rise and fall of your frame, the faint breaths of deep sleep before he decided that was permission enough to do the same.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Insects chirped loudly, enough to stir you awake.

Fresh morning light peaked through the blinds, which had been opened. Through your twitching lids, the intensity made your face scrunch. One hand reached up and rubbed them, while the other palmed beside you.

No sign of your neighbor, if he can have that title after last night.

His side had gone cold, and anything that was askew had been picked up or set back in place. Sitting yourself up, you groaned from hunger and the soreness in your legs. Beside the dresser, were the sweatpants and t-shirt he was going to lend you yesterday. Still neatly folded, placed with care on one of his leather armchairs.

You peeled the comforter off your sticky skin, coated with a layer of sweat from the sunlight on you. Usually overheating would’ve had you lying awake and sizzling, but it was clear that Price had thoroughly tired you out.

In addition to the shirt and pants, he provided a clean pair of boxers — since the ones you came over wearing had been long soiled. And nowhere to be found in the bathroom, where you made your best effort to fix up your appearance.

Aside from the sounds of nature, there was the hum of an appliance when you opened the bedroom door. Down the hall, you passed the dryer; the root of the tumbling sound. Through the small window, was your cherry sundress and underwear, half dry and spinning in circles.

Your bare feet adjusted to the cold wood, taking small, sleepy strides down the hall.

Into the living room, you laid eyes on the shelves around his television. Since you spent most of the visit on the porch, in the kitchen, and obviously the bedroom, you hadn’t had time to inspect this area closely.

Custom-built shelves frame the television. Rustic, meticulous decor placed on them. Some were store-bought, others looked to be souvenirs and memories. Stepping closer, you spotted a few framed photos; four soldiers, with Sharpie written on the corner: 1-4-1.

On the bright side, there is one mystery solved about his past. Military, or SAS, which you spot on their patches. Shuffling along, your gaze sets on the next section. More medals and ribbons, each most likely with their own significance.

Most notably, a plaque displaying his full name and title: Capt. Jonathan Price.

Another mystery solved. Why he had been so observant, so skilled at asking his questions. It all began to make sense, especially the closer you examined the relics. With a slight hm, you decided it best to stop snooping on the man’s possessions and continue your search for him.

No sign of Zeus in the house either, which isn’t shocking since he’s practically sewn to John’s hip.

Through the kitchen you go, finally picking up on the faint voice outside. Through the window overlooking the copper sink, you see Price tending to the herbs you pointed out the previous day, seemingly making conversation with his canine.

You continue on, opening the creaky patio door and shutting it behind you. You walk along the stained wood deck, rounding the corner. He’s in the middle of kneeling down, meticulously planting another herb or seasoning for his mini-garden.

“Looking good, Captain.” You startle him slightly, leaning a shoulder against the paneling of the cabin.

Price’s head perks up, snapping to the side at the sudden sound. And Zeus predictably treks over for your undivided attention, and you’re unable to refuse. The golden walks beside you when you approach further, and John gets to his feet with a small grunt.

“Snooping again, are we?” His lips curl into a harmless smile, dirt-covered fingers playing with the backs of your hands.

You shrug your shoulders, unable to conceal the feelings of fluster. Being put on the spot was something you’d have to get used to, that’s for sure. “Maybe I was. Just a little bit.”

“Careful now, sweetheart.” His voice molds into that of a superior, which you hadn’t heard from him yet. Was it twisted how much it excites you? Price continued, “or I might have you calling me Captain from here on.”

With a light scoff, you muster the last bits of confidence left in you.

“Is that a promise?”

♡‧₊˚✧˖° divider cred. - cafekitsune

[certifiedyapperx]

• husband!price headcannons

tags: gets sexual toward the end. mdni.

just thinking about husband!price who knew he wanted to wife you up the second he fucking laid eyes on you.

husband!price who, after two dates, was already shopping around for potential wedding rings, pondering the options, wanting to be ready for when the perfect moment presented itself.

husband!price who didn’t waste any fucking time telling you exactly how he felt about you. a man who lives in the present. with his career, it’s the only way he knows.

husband!price who, of course, made sure you were on the same page before he proposed, solemnly pledging that he would do everything in his fucking power to fill the rest of your lives with nothing but voracious, unconditional love.

husband!price who, in between deployment, spends every goddamn second attached to you. touching you, kissing you, hugging on you any possible way he can.

husband!price who, after another prolonged separation, is damn near starving for you. the intensity of his longing practically palpable. even the fucking guys can tell.

husband!price who, the second he catches sight of you, hair messy and pjs still on--growls a low, primal groan of relief before his duffle bags hit the floor, disregarded, and he’s striding hungrily through the house with his boots and gear still on. tunnel visioned.

husband!price who doesn’t even speak a single word to you before he’s on you, like a striking serpent, gripping your hips so bloody hard you’d think he was trying to shatter the bones beneath his touch. another groan escaping him, so fucking thankful to be touching you again.

husband!price who immediately pulls you into him, hands roaming over every expanse of your body they can manage to find, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sucking in a lungful of your scent, his eyes squeezed shut and his heart pounding so hard you could almost feel it.

husband!price who, the second you breathlessly murmur his name, turns absolutely fucking feral.

husband!price who immediately lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as his hands move to your ass and his teeth attack your neck, sucking and biting marks of ecstatic purple pleasure to life on your sensitive skin as he moves toward the nearest surface he can find.

husband!price who uses one hand to clear every single fucking thing off the table in one clean swipe, sending it all clashing to the floor before he places you down on top of it. zero patience and zero fucking restraint left in him.

husband!price who tells you how absolutely fucking beautiful you look as he’s ripping your clothes off, his lips finding yours, the need and passion and hunger evident in the desperation of his mouth against your own.

husband!price who wastes zero goddamn time before swirling the pads of his thick fingers over your clit, praising you for how fucking wet you are for him, telling you just how good he’s going to stretch you out and how long he’s been just fucking dying to do so.

husband!price who fucks you slow and deep to start, each stroke better than the last, savouring every twitch moan mewl gasp and cry that escapes your lips as he makes you cum over and over and over, with practically no end in sight.

husband!price who talks you through each orgasm, praising you for how fucking good you are for him, telling you how much he fucking missed you. every single goddamn day he’s been away. how much he missed your smile, your voice, and most of all, your perfect fucking pussy.

husband!price who fucking growls as he finally cums, after you’d orgasmed so many times you can’t even see straight never mind attempt to form a coherent sentence.

husband!price who plants sweet little kisses all over you, staying inside you until you’d both regained your breath and some form of normality before slowly slipping out.

husband!price who cooes sweet nothings in your ear as he scoops you up into his arms again and walks you toward the bathroom, looking down at you with love blown pupils before drawing a bath for you both to relax in.

husband!price who can’t fucking wait to make you the mother of his children. because there’s not another goddamn soul he’d rather spend the rest of his life with.

[victoria-grimesss]

Price Headcanons ~SFW & NSFW~

masterlist ->Paring: Captain John Price x F!Reader ->Warning: fluff, romance, smut down below >:) ->A/N: MDNI! I've had some of these floating around my head and had to write them down.

SFW:

This man needs a vacation, he needs to sit on the beach and drink a little something with an umbrella vacation.

I imagine even if he went on vacation, he would be the "feel free to text me if anything comes up I'm just a flight away" kinda guy. Please someone make him relax.

He's a romantic guy for sure, will kiss you on the hand and bring you flowers without asking.

When you go out to eat he will open the car door, the restaurant door, and pull out the chair for you because the woman he loves will NOT be touching a door. He gives you a wink once he tucks your chair in.

When he's home, especially right after he gets back he loves nothing more than to sit side by side and read your books together, make him a good cup of tea and he's sending heart eyes your way.

His favorite way to sleep is with you right on top of him. Out on the job he sleeps with his gear on, so he's become accustomed to having a weight on his chest when he sleeps, he feels uneasy without it. But when you lay onto of him like that he's out like a light.

He gets nightmares frequently, if you're a light sleeper he apologizes for waking you up but you never complain and for that he cannot repay you. If you're a heavy sleeper and you don't wake up he'll calm his beating heart and find comfort in your scent and soft breaths. Sometimes he wants to talk about it sometimes he doesn't, it depends on the severity and if he wants to plague you with it. At times he just wants to lay with you in his arms, he's safe at home with you, his boys are safe at their homes, everything is okay.

He's built a steady routine over the years, part of that routine is waking up ten minutes before he's supposed to so he can admire you when you sleep and hold you close to his bare chest, he loves these mornings.

He trusts you with his life, and with that he'll let you trim up his beard, a barber botched it once and Gaz laughed at him, so he said you're the only other person allowed to do it now.

He definitely falls asleep when watching TV and when you try to change it he'll wake up and say he's watching it.

One time you washed his hat without telling him and he panicked like when you lose your wallet. You had to pre-soak his hat twice to get it semi-normal.

I imagine him as a good cook but a shit baker. He gets frustrated when he tried to follow a cake recipe for your birthday and can't find the recipe under the person's life story. He went to the store and bought one then wrote your name on it.

He loves it when he can show off how strong he is, sometimes you'll pretend you can't open a jar just so he can crack his knuckles and "show you how its done".

He's over the moon if you ask him to show you how to fish, even more elated if you offer it as a date idea.

He loves to sit at the counter and listen to you talk about your day. He's a sucker about your voice and could listen to you talk about literally anything.

He calls you on his way back to base and talks to you on the drive home, makes the drive go faster.

He starts ring shopping 2 months after you two started dating, he knew you were the one.

He almost threw up when he proposed, he was so fucking nervous but the night went perfectly.

Definitely carried you through the door of your shared place when you got married, he's old fashioned like that.

His dad jokes are out of this world awful, but you laugh at them even if it hurts, because you love him.

Loves to have the team over to watch sport matches, when you were house shopping he always referenced about having them over when the two of you would view the living room.

When the two of you are out he puts a hand on the small of you back to guide you through crowds.

NSFW:

His stamina is impressive, he's an older guy but he can go for rounds and those rounds are heavy and sweaty.

Alot of things you do turn him on, kiss him on the spot where his neck meets his head, touch his knee and move you hand slowly up, tell him how much you missed him, tell him he looks good in that shirt, wear that shirt, really anything you do turns the man on.

John Price loves to love you through and through this man is a giver.

He will kiss you from ankle all the way up, muttering about how good you looked today and how much he was thinking about getting you out of these clothes.

Not possessive but more protective. Your relationship is built on mutual respect for one another, although there is a trend between the times when you get a little more attention from other guys and when he absolutely fucks your brains out. He denies it the next morning.

He uses his voice to his advantage. He purrs in your ear hours before he undresses you, light light touches and honeyed words butter you up to the point you're begging for him to take your clothes off. "You need me this bad love? Desperate girl." He wears a devilish smile.

Certified pussy eating master and I stand by that. That man can go forever between your thighs, his eyes roll to the back of his head when he first licks you, you'll have to pry him away beard soaked with evidence of his skills.

Good with his hands too, he angles then just the right way to find your G-spot, all while saying the dirtiest things just so he can feel you clench around his fingers. "You like that, fuck look at you dripping down my hand."

He loves when you grip his arms when he drives himself into you, you leave nail marks and he gets off on it. That you're feeling so good from what he's doing to you that you have to hold on that tight.

Favorite positions would be missionary, cowgirl, or anything where he can look you in the eyes so he can see your reaction when he slides it in so agonizingly slow.

Loves it when you ride him, front facing so he can see you cum. He makes you wear his hat for sure. And when it dips too low in front of your eyes he'll stop all movement just to fix it. "There's my pretty girl." He grinds into you to start again.

You guys fucked in his car once and he loved it, couldn't do it again though. His back hurt too much the next day.

Guilty pleasure is hotel sex. The both of you get a nice big room at a fancy hotel, have sex in clean white sheets making a mess of the newly made bed, he fucks you in the bed, the shower, the desk, over the dresser, and against the wall, afterwards you two order all you can eat room service.

He loves getting blowjobs when he smokes, something about the combination of the two make his head dizzy in a wonderful way.

Heavy on safe-words and making sure you feel the best you can when you two have sex, always checking in on you but in the most seductive ways as to not lose the mood.

Price loves to praise you, before during and after he's telling you how good you're doing and how beautiful you look taking him so well.

Most of the time he asks you where he should cum, he just likes hearing you say it, it gets him off harder.

Aftercare!! John is big on it, he'll take you to the bathroom and you'll have a bath together or shower, he'll give you extra time when he leaves so he can change the bedding and put on a sweet movie.

If your muscles ache he'll take a body oil or lotion and gets those knots out with those expert hands, he prefers it when you're naked for these massage sessions, easier to get all your sore spots he says.

More than half the time this result in another session and neither of you are complaining.

---

peepaw for the win!!!

[konigsblog]

what do you think are gaz’s and price’s favourite positions?

cw: afab!f!reader 🪵☀️

gaz loves any position, really — doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, spooning, missionary, etc... although, he loves when he's able to see your pretty, tight rear and grope your ass with his scarred and calloused hands.

gaz is usually pretty slow and gentle when it comes to having sex with you, only quickening his slow and sloppy pace when he's getting closer to that sensation that tightens his full balls. he's in no rush, and truly wishes he could spend an eternity with you on his veiny, lengthy dick, with kyle's slick and drooling tip pressed against your womb.

he especially loves cowgirl and reverse cowgirl, where he's able to suck on one of your hardened nubs, your soft and supple breasts in his mouth as he suckles and moans around the perky nipple — or, grope and fondle your ass, spitting between your ass cheeks to use his saliva as lube to grind even deeper inside. (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

john price is more picky — he prefers anything where his body is pressed against yours, snug against you and caging you in. he especially enjoys visiting a cabin during november, fucking you like a dog in heat the entire time. his favourite positions would be missionary and spooning, where he presses his large and rough palm over your chest, feeling your heartbeat as he rocks his hips slowly.

his pace differs from time to time, although, he remains pretty messy and gentle as he fucks you tenderly, burly and muscular arms wrapped around your waist as he rolls his broad, sturdy hips against you, biting your shoulder as he sinks his meaty dick further inside your drooling, sloppy cunt. (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

[aphrodisiaxcunt]

Captain Price headcanons

Both personal and (more of) relationship with reader

Content: a little bit of nsfw, fluff, silly goofy, headcanons

Price! Who makes the most vile dad noises every morning. Coughs and all.

Price! Who dislikes chocolate ice cream because it's too bland, his favourite is pistachio.

Price! Who says he hates cats but every time he sees a cat out on the street he'll squat to pet it.

Price! Who tried quitting smoking cigars by changing to cigarettes. He lasted 2 days.

Price! Who once out of old routine shaved his beard, he scared the shit out of Gaz.

Price! Who swears up and down he's not good with kids, but every kid he meets LOVES HIM. Hugging his knees and laughing at his facial hair

Price! Who was convinced he'd only have his work and would never find a lover..until you came into his life.

John! Who was taken aback when you came up and flirted with him at a bar.

John! Who came home with you that night, he swore it was just to make sure you were safe, but somehow he ended up in your bed..

John! Who ate you out better than any of your exes before, seemingly not getting tired and only stopping when you pulled on his hair and asked him to kiss you.

John! Who made your legs tighten around his waist when you came, you had to hold onto his shoulders for support.

John! Who let you ride him for the second round when you asked, he's not usually the one to be laying down, but for you, he was. Guiding your body at your waist.

John! Who held you through the night and kissed your shoulders and back until you fell asleep.

John! Who woke you up by brushing his fingers through your hair and kissing your neck, his facial hair tickling your sensitive skin.

John! Who happily swapped numbers with you during breakfast, not being able to take his eyes off of you when you focused on writing your number correctly in his phone.

John! Who takes you out where ever you have even slightly mentioned you like or would like to try.

John! Who starts stammering and stuttering when you ask how you look or if an outfit makes you look fat.

John! Who wears an apron when he cooks for your date night. He burns the food.

John! Who keeps a picture of you in his wallet or his hat, he's never afraid to show it off if someone asks.

°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°

Sorry I've been a lil inactivee..I have long ass work days so I literally don't have time to write <3 A little headcanon filler never hurt anyone, bye babies MWWWAH

Xoxo

[minihotdog]

TF141 Head Cannon

"Good Boy"

Minors DNI // NSFW below the cut

a/n: hehehe

Your hips sink into his repeatedly. Small gasps escape your mouth paired with the low rumbling in his chest. His fingers dig into your hips. His head slams against the pillows. His eyes flutter shut and his breaths come out ragged. He looked so heavenly, it made your heart do little flips at the sight.

"Oh, darling." You coo at him. "Such a good boy."

Price:

He runs his hand up your spine firmly gripping the back of your neck before flipping you onto your back. He pins you down with his weight. His beard tickles your cheek as he thrusts into you.

"Alright, love. You had your fun."

He picks up his pace leaving you with your mouth hanging open and his name falling from your lips in a chant.

"No more fuckin' games."

Ghost:

He pulls you off of him and tosses you onto your stomach. He slides his arm under your hips forcing them up. With a swift thrust, he slides himself into you, filling you up completely. His chest presses against your back and he nips your shoulder.

"Just askin' for it, yeah?" He pounds into you. You grip the pillows as you as you struggle to keep yourself up against his harsh thrusts.

"You like takin' the piss, don't you?"

Gaz:

A whine escapes him before he can stifle it. His cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He flips you onto your back and plants a kiss on your jawline before burying his face into your neck.

"That's enough of that, love."

He continues on like nothing happened, trying his best to ignore the feeling inside him telling him he kind of liked it. XD

Soap:

He growls, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you in place as he begins thrusting upwards. Your hands grip his shoulders and moans begin pouring out of you. He hits all the right spots making you whimper into his neck.

"I am, aren't I?"

You nod, barely registering his words. He slaps your ass making you yelp.

"Tell me again how good I am."

[pink-apollo]

Hello!

I don’t remember if I did send you a request before, but i did think of something cute and funny.

Can have some Headcannons on Price, Ghost and Alejandro where they walk into their s/o’s office and found them slumped over on their desk dead asleep?

Hope you’re doing well.

I have come so close to doing this myself at work many times. I swear being a waitress is a lot of work😅

Overworked s/o who is asleep at their desk Headcanons

Alejandro

✨WORRIED. The definition of a worrier once he sees that your head is resting on your desk fast asleep. Although yes he wants to laugh at the situation he needs to know that you’re okay first

✨Gently shakes you awake while whispering your name to not scare you considering it had happened before😅 by accident of course

✨Finally chuckles once he realized you were just tired from a long day of running errands and doing hours upon hours of paper work that price had asked of you. Though yes you had gotten most of them done, there was still atleast a bit more to go through but Ale refused to let you do it considering you had already burnt yourself out

✨Doesn’t take no as an answer and makes sure to treat you to your favorite things! Like food, dessert, run a bath for you and cuddle for the rest of the night. Wants you at your very best and refuses to let you work yourself like that again. Despite laughing at the situation he was actually worried

Simon

🖤Shuts the door behind him before making his way over to your sleeping form. Papers scattered around, pen in hand as your head rests upon the stack of papers underneath you. He moves a strain of hair away from your face before waking you up, careful to make sure nothing is knocked over to the floor

🖤Doesn’t let you continue no matter how much your protest and saying that you need to turn these in. He won’t hear it and makes you come home, also considering it was now quarter past 8 and you were supposed to clock out 15 minutes ago

🖤Runs you a hot bath and orders take out full on knowing that the both of you were too tired to cook let alone, want to clean up the aftermath

🖤Pulls you on top of him once you climb into bed and rests his chin upon your head, gently rubbing your arm in comfort. He knows he can’t really help you finish the paperwork but damn will try to ease your aching head and hands the best of his ability and make sure you get a good nights sleep

Price

🥀Accidentally woke you up from him laughing at your state. Hair had become undone as your arm was slumped over across the desk, pen that was once in your hand was now on the floor, cap long gone to who knows where

🥀Helps to organize your things before taking you home where you much needed to be. The paper work can wait another day, it’s not like it needed to be done right away considering you have a full week to turn it in. Is honestly quite amazed that you got most of it done within a few hours

🥀Makes you dinner and turns on your favorite show/movie before settling down beside you despite you fussing over to finish the paperwork. He shakes his head in return and laughs at your determination before hushing you with a kiss. He knows you’re a hard worker but you also need to take care of yourself in order not to have another burn out

🥀Helps you settle into bed before climbing in himself and cuddling you from behind, using his weight to help ease your anxiety. Gently kissing along your neck before nuzzling into your hair

[gloomwitchwrites]

I wish to see how each of the 141 boys respond to their ex, reader, calling them for emotional support bc readers newest bf was toxic af

bonus points if 141 boys are still possessive over reader, but doesn't do anything besides telling reader to leave her toxic bf. OR ORRR he's possessive bc him and reader have been together for so long, who would know how to treat her better than him? He knows every little detail she cares about, every little action that makes her fall head over heels in an instant. Her toxic bf? He doesn't care to learn about those types of things, even if reader outright says it

EVEN MORE BONUS POINTS for smut to show reader what a quick fuck of satisfaction looks like vs genuine sex / love making

Apologies, Anon. This has been sitting in my inbox for…a while, but I’ve been thinking about it off and on since you’ve sent it in.

I’ll drop some HC’s about how this would go down but I absolutely want to explore this further as part of the Imagines & What If Series.

I'll tackle these separately and make them individual one-shots (with much more detail) once I wrap up the By the Belt prompt. But for now...enjoy my HC's (if you will) on what I think would go down in this scenario.

The official masterlist for the extended fics can be found HERE.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Content & Warnings: suggestive themes (it's vague), brief mentions of protective/possessive behavior, canon-typical swearing

John Price

Breakup status: Strained (at first), but settled into friendship.

Absolutely hates texting, and you know if you need to reach him immediately, you have to call. Price isn’t an old man, he’s just the old man of the group, and would absolutely be tech literate but also super picky on how he communicates with people personally. It’s Price’s job to be calm, to be a leader, and pick up on things others don’t necessarily notice. So, Price would know you’re upset with your current boyfriend without you even having to spell it out. Besides, Price hates the guy, and knows he’s not worth even a lob of spit.

Plus, Price has been wanting to get back with you for ages. Now that the two of you are friends and have repaired whatever it is that separated the two of you in the first place, Price is looking to find a way to move in again, to slowly (or quickly) win you back, and now he has the opportunity.

Price insists on talking in person, and the moment the two of you are together, he makes the effort he knows you’re needing—because he wants you back, but also because he knows you better than your current boyfriend. Price doesn’t understand why you even gave the guy a chance, but he’ll do everything to get you back.

He would start with subtle indications eventually moving the conversation into past memories, reminiscing on happier times when you were his woman, and how that felt. It slowly devolves until you’re admitting first that you still miss him, and Price goes in for the kill, stating clearly that he still has feelings for you.

The final act is passionate, rough, and intense. Like an atom splitting, it is explosive.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Breakup status: mutual (away all the time; hard to make it work)

When you call, on the verge of tears, needing to talk to someone, Gaz immediately knows something is wrong the moment he picks up. (Sorta like Price but more attuned emotionally to the situation).

I can see Gaz not being a fan of chatting for long periods on the phone, so you don’t even need to ask, Gaz will drop everything and come to you without you having to suggest it. In fact, Gaz picks up, realizes your upset, and immediately says he’s coming over.

When he arrives, it’s like the two of you have never been apart. It’s almost routine, completely natural the way the two of you come together. Gaz is very much about physical affection. He’s constantly touching you, comforting you, and saying sweet things that always make you melt.

Totally knows you need a distraction, and while you’re upset, you’re having a difficult time expressing yourself. When this happens, Gaz just shuts it down, guiding you toward distraction to help you calm down and ease your mind before probing to see if you want to return to the topic.

Once that happens, game over for boyfriend. He’s lost you to Gaz.

The reunification is absolutely passionate and soft. I will die on that hill.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Breakup status: Messy. (You cannot tell me Soap isn’t a hot mess. Our boy is a little too high energy at times.)

While the breakup between the two of you is messy, Soap has always been a “safe” person for you. So, when you call him to vent, you don’t realize that Soap immediately starts heading in your direction until he knocks on your door and the two of you stand there staring at each other, phones held up to your ears. It’s an impulsive decision on his end to come to you, but you don’t turn him away.

Like Simon, Soap would be forward in the way he addresses your concern and the issues—which is your shitty boyfriend who deserves to only be known as your ex. However, where Simon is more of a blunt “these are the facts” kind of communicator, Soap will go for the jugular, using harsher language about this “boyfriend.” He won’t be critical of you, but he will be overly critical of him, listing all the ways this idiot doesn’t deserve you. He might even grow a bit heated in tone and pitch, becoming creative with his slang, and his accent might thicken slightly especially if he’s going off.

But ultimately, Soap is defending you, and reiterates the need for you to stand up for yourself and get rid of this loser.

I don’t think anything passionate would happen in that moment. But I could also see Soap in the middle of him criticizing your toxic boyfriend, you shutting him up with a kiss. Now…that could easily go sideways with someone like Soap. He’s very much impulsive at times, and I think that would win out. Soap would totally kiss you back and not allow you to pull away from him again until you’re…satisfied.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Breakup status: Tumultuous, eventually mellowing to mutual understanding afterward.

Would listen to you rant without interrupting. He would not ask any clarifying or follow up questions.

When you have it all out of your system, his response is simple: break up with him. Simon is direct—could even say blunt depending on the situation, and he would absolutely be that way in this scenario.

He makes it clear that you’re obviously not happy and that the relationship is making you miserable. He might even lay it out plainly, stating only the facts, sliding into that mindset when he’s in the field, thinking about all scenarios and problem-solving while doing so.

Internally, he’s absolutely ecstatic that your current boyfriend is a garbage heap of a human being. He will see this as an opportunity to slip right back into your life if he plays this right. Sure, the two of you aren’t together anymore, but he’s not over it. Simon is possessive and territorial to the core. Totally still considers you his.

Will absolutely make up a reason to come over, and it will likely fall under the “I’m looking out for you” or “trying to protect you from him” insisting that your boyfriend could escalate and he won’t allow you to potentially be in harm’s way.

When he arrives, Simon immediately turns soft and attentive in just the way you like. He gives you his full attention, doesn’t lecture, and offers plenty of physical touch.

The physical touches turn…well, I’ll save that for the full fic. But it is a reminder of how you’ve always been his and you just need to realize it.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei

[empresskylo]

okay but picking up price at the airport when he's on leave and he makes you pull over because he needs to be inside you so badly. he missed the fuck out of you and literally couldn’t wait any longer. and he fucks you soooo good that you have to switch seats so he can drive the rest of the way home because you have turned into a cockdrunk mess, your legs no longer working.

[lazybutsmexy]

NOOO NO NO NO TAKE IT BACK APOLOGY W TEARS RN IM SOBBING CRYING DON'T DO THIS TO ME THIS IS A PERSONAL ATTACK(it was delicious, scrumptious wow i love seeing sadness) MAKE IT BETTER OW OW BRING THEM BACK(it was so good i love your writing eating it up yumyumyum) I crave more of them all being platonic (HURT/COMFORT?!??!) plsplspls begging for crumbs in tears ill do anything

Hmmm... I am a slut for hurt/comfort myself...

Task Force + affectionate reader Pt. 3

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Warnings: HURT/COMFORT, bit of cursing.

The people who smile the most are often the saddest. The people who share the most love often don't feel any towards themselves.

Or: it's your team's turn to show affection

It was one of those days.

One of those days where you didn't have the energy to care about yourself. You were able to keep up with your little routines around base, somehow. But it was dimmed, a matte finish to what was once all shiny and sparkly.

Because it was one of those days.

You always became like this after taking leave for longer than two days. You'd visit your family during that time - or rather, they would come to you as soon as they realized you were at your place downtown and not the barracks - and bombard you with anything they set their minds to.

No matter how grueling your missions were, your family always managed to make you feel even more drained during leave. Their constant demands and mental games, the guilt-tripping and manipulation, always made you feel as if you were walking on eggshells around them.

Tracking down and dismantling human trafficking rings seemed like a walk in the park compared to dealing with them.

You personally tried your best to keep your personal problems away from your work, greeting everyone around you with the same cheery tone, and going about your little routine with the others as usual.

But they had started to notice how your smile didn't reach your eyes, and how you seemed unable to shake off the frown in your brows.

And to avoid unwanted questions that you were too ashamed to answer, you simply chose to distance yourself.

Price shared a look with Ghost, who stood across the room from him, and he shared the same concern in his eyes as they watched you walk into the debrief room

you sat yourself at the back, whereas you'd usually choose to sit in the middle of your team

they immediately knew what was going to happen, you were about to start isolating yourself.

they were having none of that.

Price had always kept a close eye on the family relations of his team members.

it was a security measure, after all, to make sure that not only they weren't targeted by dangerous people, but also to make sure they were no connected in any way to their missions.

but in your case it was different, he monitored your family to make sure they never stayed close to you for too long.

it seemed it hadn't been enough this time, and he saw your haggard state as the consequence of that failure.

he would definitely fix that

he began talking to both Laswell and his superiors to get you one of the smaller houses within base

even though you were unmarried and didn't have any children, he knew it would be impossible for those pesky family members to get close to your home without permission

your parents had managed to talk your landlord into giving them access to your apartment - that would not happen under Price's watch

he would actually blacklist them if he had the chance to do so

he wouldn't let you know he was trying to get you a house, at first - he didn't want you to feel like a burden

but he was not exactly subtle when he began asking what colors you preferred on your walls, if you minded only having a shower head or if you preferred a bathtub, etc

Soap wasn't subtle at all, oh no

boy got you hooked in a one-arm hug for as long as you'd let him

that could be a few minutes or all day long, he didn't mind one bit

endlessly squeezed and smooched on your hairline whenever he caught you lost in thought

definitely the one to (lovingly) manhandle you into a blanket burrito and snuggle you into his lap to watch movies

surprisingly a great cook, he would go all out and cook you whatever your comfort food was

it didn't matter if it was 3 AM

you would be fed, and you could almost taste the love he poured in it

definitely wore a 'kiss the cook' apron to make you giggle and try to get a smooch from you

Gaz is the king of self care

you would not let your skincare/hair routine go under his watch

he would do it for you if you didn't have the energy to do so

he would just sit you on the toilet and he'd take care of all the steps of your skincare routine

if he didn't have all the steps memorized, he definitely had a bulletpoint list of specific instructions to guide himself

same with your hair - trust this man with your hair, you won't regret it, ever

this man had magic hands for scalp massages fight me if you disagree

if you aren't comfortable being nude in front of him, he would simply put a chair in front of the sink like a makeshift hair wash basin and work like that

if you were comfortable being nude in front of him, he would make it into a full-body wash

after working with your hair, he would scrub your body down

every now and then he would massage your tired muscles while telling you how much he appreciated you as both his teammate and his friend

after shower cuddles were a must

you would very likely doze off in his arms while he held you impossibly close to him

Ghost didn't see himself as a person capable of comforting others

but all doubts flew through the window the moment he saw your downcast gaze and a tired hunch of your shoulders

at this point in time, you had become about 80% of the team's moral incentive

of course he knew it was quite unfair to dump all of that on you, he supposed you would have your down days too

but you were part of a team, and no one fought alone - be it terrorist organizations or their own inner demons

he would work alongside Price to get you a new living place

any person trying to ask you stupid and/or unwanted questions would find themselves at the other end of one of his famous death glares

or at the aim of his fist

when you approached him to pat him on the shoulder like always, pretending that everything was all right, he placed his own hand on your shoulder

he looked into your eyes and spoke to you with such sincerity that you were shaken to the core

"...You know that you are just as deserving of love as everyone else, right?"

moments later, you were clutching his middle, with your face buried in his chest while he hugged you tightly

he didn't mind that his shirt felt a little wetter with your tears

he focused on stroking your hair and rubbing your back, while glaring at anyone who dared to look at you questioningly

he would let you hug him until your arms fell off if that's what you needed

more cuddles!!

...he wouldn't mind it too much either if Soap and Gaz joined in a cuddle pile - he pretended to be annoyed, but he thought it felt nice

imagine how much nicer it would feel for you :)

[lunarw0rks]

price does that thing where he puts his hand on the edge of a surface/wall while you bend down so that you don't hit your head when you come back up (っ> ‸ < ς)

[lvlyghost]

Half My Soul

Pairings: John Price x F!Reader

Summary: No one is supposed to be at the compound. But after a visit turns into hell, John finds you there.

Word Count: 1.1k

Tw: blood, angst, hurt with a lot of comfort. john is literally the best. description of injuries and violence. domestic abuse(? also daddy issues(??? think that's it.💫

A/N: Hmm, so this was supposed to be longer but ended up scrapping a lot of it while editing lolol. Enjoy🫡🌸🤍🩵

Masterlist✨ Part 2

It's not the physical pain what hurts the most. Not the busted lip, the purple eye or the scratches on your arms.

It's the reminder of the person who caused it. The eyes of the man who was supposed to look after you, to shield you from the bad people.

The man who was supposed to protect you. Eyes void of any kind of remorse. Hurtful words spat when you tried to help him.

You're soaking wet by the time you reach the infirmary. The whole compound is silent. Nobody's supposed to be here. The lightning illuminated the night sky through the window as you rummage around looking for bandages and painkillers, anything you can use to fix your deplorable condition. You use the sleeve of your hoodie to clean your face from your tear stained cheeks, the fabric becoming a shade of crimson red thanks to the blood sliding down from the tiny graze on your temple.

"This is what you get for trying to help him."

You scold yourself, more salty tears pricking at the side of your eyes.

You should've stayed with John when he asked you. Go to his apartment and spend the night with a nice supper and a bottle of wine. Choking down a cry you slam the cabinet door shut, wincing at the sound of glass as it almost shattered.

You swore this would be the last time you'd go. Never again will you set a foot back into that god forsaken house; your house. The place that once felt like a home when your mother was still around. Cooking breakfast for you with a weak smile, struggling to move around due to her illness. Fuck, you missed her so much it hurt. Your lips quiver at the thought of her; life would be so much better if she was here.

For all that it matters now. You have no one left. Not a single person who dreams of your success. That you will accomplish everything you once told her about when she was tucking you into bed.

"Craig said not everyone had left. Thought he was finally starting to lose his mind."

Your body freezes at the sound of a thick accent and a raspy voice. Your hands start shaking. Don't look back. Don't. Don't do it. He'll know something is wrong. "What're you doing here, love?" He asks. You can hear him shuffling his weight from one foot to another, the sound of keys jingling as he plays with them in a nervous manner. Not many people had that effect on him; making him blush and stammer, laughing like some young boy who just discovered what love is. You made him weak at the knees. When you don't answer nor turn to look at him he worries. Was he bothering you? Was he overstepping your boundaries?

"Jus' grabbing some stuff." You croak out. Hoping you don't sound as bad as you're feeling.

John hums as the silence settles in between the two again. Why weren't you looking at him?

"Are you sick?" He tries again, swallowing down saliva. He shouldn't have invited you to spend the holidays with him it was probably too much! Bloody hell. "Could you..." his mouth snaps shut. Jaw clenching and hands balling into fists, his heart begins to race when he finally sees it. The blood stained sleeve of your hoodie. That's it.

What the fuck is going on?

It takes him three long strides and he's right beside you, grabbing your arm as gently as he can. Shocked you jolt back, blue eyes meeting your scared orbs. His baby blues sparked with anger, something you had never seen before.

"John..." you gasped.

"Who did this?" He snarled. His hand go to cup your cheeks so delicately that your entire body sags. The contrast between his calloused hands and the ones that hurt you is great. "It was him, wasn't he?" He hisses. "Fuck, love why did you have to go..."

"He's my father John." You murmur, arms coming to rest on his sides. Your face is numb and it hurts.

"Don't care a single bit, sweetheart. I'll fucking kill him, you hear me? He's bloody stupid if he thinks he can lay a hand on you and not face the consequences."

"Stop, don't... just hold me." You beg, pressing your face against his hardened chest. The warmth that he exudes is calming and comforting, you inhale deeply while he murmurs sweet things in your ear.

John loathed the man with all his being. Hurting such a beautiful creature like you? How dare he? He's beyond pissed; if it weren't for you holding onto him like there was nothing else he'd be on his way to kick his arse.

"Let me take care of you, yeah?" He mumbles. "We'll go to my apartment. Bloody have that takeout and red wine I promised." You nod, letting him go although reluctantly. He hoists you up on the bed. "Now I'm not the doctor here love, guide me through it would ya'?"

A soft chuckle leaves your mouth, a sound John adores. He never wants to see you like this again. You getting hurt? He'd rather peel his skin off than to see you all beaten and hurting. He cleans your lip, gritting his teeth when you hiss at the touch.

"Don't let me sleep okay?" You ask him, when he's done an tossing everything to the trash bin.

John's brows furrow.

"You have a concussion?"

"Most likely." You stand up grabbing the painkillers. "Probably gonna have to pass with the wine this time Price." Your left eye's starting to swell. "Must look beautiful right now huh?" You joke.

"Hey." He stops you. "None of that." John is dead serious, he doesn't take any of this lightly. "Maybe you let this pass before sweetheart, but not now. Not when I'm here yeah? Not on my bloody watch. Let's get you home."

You exit the infirmary with the bear of a man guiding you outside and towards his vehicle, prompting you to get rid of the stained hoodie and taking his leather jacket instead. It smells like him. Like cigarettes and musk.

And he places a soft kiss atop of your head. God if he could make all the pain go away he'd be more than happy to do it. Whatever it took to make you feel safe.

To be safe.

Because maybe now, home would be a different place. And have a different meaning.

[captainpricelover]

In the car, really?

Captain price x f!reader

Wordcount- 0.8k

Warnings: Smut!! Car sex, Public sex, P in V sex, Breeding kink, possessive!Price. Price missed you after a long mission and shows you that in his own special way.

Names used: Honey, Hun, Baby.

After an extended mission, you pick your boyfriend up from the airport. It's the middle of the night and no one else is around. It's raining heavily and you're playing your favourite Lana del Rey song through the Bluetooth speaker.

Prices smile at you as opens the driver-side door, he leans over and presses the release button on your seatbelt before lifting you into his arms and pulling you out of his car while practically squeezing you to death.

“Missed’cha, honey,”

 John states while planting small kisses all over your face, his overgrown mutton chops scratch your face while he does. You make a mental note to tell him to trim them later. You wrap your arms around his neck as you pull in him closer

“I missed you too baby!”

The parking lot near the base is empty and dark, the only light coming from the moon and inside your car. You and Price share a long-awaited romantic moment as the raindrops fall around the two. He places his bonnie hat on top of your head as he breaks the kiss. The hat smells of Price; cigars, gunpowder and whiskey with a hint of some expensive cologne.

He smiles as he sits down in the driver's seat “Let's go home,” 

“You’re tired, let me drive,” You say while attempting to stop him from getting in

“No, it's fine really. To be honest darling your driving stresses me out,”

“Aren’t you a charmer,” 

Laughter erupts from the both of you. Price pulls you into his lap as he finally sits down.

“I missed that laugh,” 

He sighs, Price never talks about his missions but you could tell that they affect him. The rain starts hammering on the roof of the car.  

“Let me show you how much I missed you,”

 Price's hands start to explore your entire body. His fingers play with the hem of your skirt as he thrusts his hips only to discover 

“No knickers, huh?” 

“Was meant to be a surprise for later”

“Well I am very surprised baby, but your cunt is soaking my work trousers,”

“We’re going to fuck in the car aren't we?”

“You read my fucking mind, hun!” 

With that, your skirt is flipped over, with your ass out for anyone to see. His fingers grip the flesh as he humps his clothed cock on your wet pussy. You move your hand down his torso past his chiselled abdomen and to the large tent in his trousers. He flinches as soon as your fingertips make contact.

“Fuck, I need you, baby, haven’t fucking touched myself in weeks.”

“I need you too, missed your cock inside me,” 

Price’s zipper gets undone in one quick movement. Your hand quickly pulls his manhood out of his boxers before moving up and down his shaft. He lets out some small groans as his head flings back, hitting the headrest of the seat. The fingers that press into your ass push you back slightly as John aligns his cock with your entrance. He might have pushed you back slightly too fast as your ass makes contact with the centre of the steering wheel causing a loud honking sound to echo throughout the parking lot. A roar of laughter escapes Price’s lips before being shortly followed by your own giggling. His manhood enters you as he pulls you in closer, away from the wheel. A moan exits your lips stopping your chuckling. You bite your lip in an attempt to quieten the noise

“Don’t, I want to hear you” 

He commands using his captain voice. So you let go of your bottom lip because of course, you got to follow his orders. You move your hips up and down, slowly grinding yourself against his cock. One of your hands moves up to secure his bonnie hat on your head while the other wraps place itself over Price’s shoulder. His movements speed up as more low groans escape his lips.

“Missed you, John. The house is so empty without you” You manage to say in between moans.

“Gonna knock you up, so you ain’t lonely anymore,” 

“I was thinking of a dog, but that could work too,” You joke but it flys over his head

“Fill your cunt with my cum. You wanna be filled huh?”

His thrust gets faster. He is actually going to go through with this. You're getting close. He squeezes you tighter as he becomes rougher. You let go of his hat and wrap your arms around his neck as you get closer to your orgasm. The movements of your hips become in sync with his thrusts. All of a sudden you feel a bite on your neck, it’s John, he only does this when he's feeling possessive which turns you on even more. 

“I’m going to cum!” You practically scream

“Cum for me, honey,” 

And with that, you unravel. Your whole body shakes as you reach your high. Your cunt squeezes around his cock which causes him to finish as well. His cock shoots hot cum inside you before he slowly pulls out. 

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, John,” You smile as you look in his eye. You can make a shape that's reflected in his pupils. It's a car. You snap your head around only to see a man with a skull face staring back at you.