#price x y/n

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Grocery Shopping with Price

My blog is predominantly 18+ minors DNI

No warnings but there are mentions of food, reader is able to have periods, but otherwise blank slate. 632~ Words Lynx is the UK brand name for Axe body spray

Price just likes letting you take control in these scenarios.

Yes, he’s happy to meal plan and list build with you, he loves that aspect, it’s very on-brand for him. But when it comes to strolling through the aisles, picking things out off the shelves, he leaves the control to you.

You send him off to retrieve things from across the store and he comes back with exactly what you ask for without fail.

Sometimes he’ll remember other things from the list on the way, piling up impossibly large amounts of produce and dry goods in his muscular arms. He even hid a jar of your favourite night-cream under his boonie hat that one time that had you crying with laughter.

Today you’re in the fresh produce aisle, poking and prodding, groping and grabbing at different fruits and veggies to determine ripeness and freshness. You’re cramping like mad, and you’ve sent John off to get the majority of the shop as you hobble around, clutching at the trolley for dear life.

You’re two days into one of the worst periods of your adult life, and already wishing you’d just got John to do the shop so you could stay home cradling a hot water bottle. You’re minding your own business as a shadow looms over your shoulder.

“Need a hand there, pet?” An unfamiliar grunt makes you pause as you slowly turn to look up to address the source of the intrusion.

The man is your typical sleazy gym bro with gelled hair and a smirk that you guess is permanently etched on his smug mouth. The overwhelming stench of Lynx Africa rolling off him in waves. You crinkle your nose at the offensive odour, reminding you of high school locker rooms and pubescent boys.

“I’m good, thanks,” you say, immediately turning back to your trolley, hoping to move on, even if you hadn’t got what you were looking for.

Deescalate.

You can almost hear John’s voice in your head as you feel the dude-bro shadowing your hasty retreat.

“Aw,” he groans, practically jogging to catch up to you, “Don’t be like that, what’s your hurry?”

“I’m here to shop, not get hit on by some dickhead with an ego,” you snap, letting your hormonal rage seep out as the guy just doesn’t take the hint.

“Woah, no need to be a bitch,” the fuck-head says with wild gesticulation of his hands, “You on the rag love?”

You’re about to snip back at him when your trolley collides with something solid. You groan and are about to spool up a profanity ridden apology when you hear a familiar growl.

“So what if she is?” John snarls as you look up to see his arms laden with what seems like every item on the list as he glowers at the douchebag at your elbow.

“Whatever man,” he scoffs at John as he holds his hands up in cocky compliance, “Have the bitter bitch.”

“You watch your mouth,” John says as he meticulously stacks the produce in the trolley, not once taking his stormy blue eyes off the other man, “Or we’re going to have a problem.”

“John,” you intercede, already over this whole dick waving competition, even if you do love it when he gets like this, “Let’s just get home, yeah?”

“Whatever you need,” he says as he finishes loading up the trolley. You finish the shop quickly, with John insisting he drives you home and gets you tucked up in bed as soon as possible.

It’s not until he takes off his hat while unloading the groceries that he realises he still had a bag of your favourite sweets stuck under his boonie hat. He makes a mental note to go back tomorrow and pay for them.

CoD Masterlist Grocery Shopping with Gaz Grocery Shopping with Ghost Grocery Shopping with Soap Grocery Shopping with König

[cloudofbutterflies92]

I wonder why this fandom is obsessed with CNC and p*dophilia 💀(and don't you dare to say it's like therapy because that's fucking sick and twisted, as myself experience this things on my skin)

[simplywghost]

Warning(s): AFAB!reader, smut, not proofread

John knew how much you liked to play, he saw it in your eyes the first time you both were in the same room.

So it didn't take him long to realize what you wanted that night when he came home from work stressed and tense, his muscles ached and to tell the truth he was a little angry, despite being a fairly calm man.

"I don't want to have sex today." It was the only thing that slipped from your lips but he knew better, he could see the glint of lust in your eyes, besides... that babydoll? You only used it when you wanted to drive him crazy.

He narrowed his eyes at you and slid his jacket off his body, leaving it on the couch to approach you, his calloused hands grazing your figure, making your skin crawl. He looked you up and down, filling himself with you, inhaling your natural scent.

"You know you have to do it, it's your duty as my wife." He spoke close to your ear, his raspy voice along with his words sending a wave of heat right between your thighs and you squeezed your legs together. You loved your man, he gave you what you wanted without even having to say it once, it made you want to please him more.

"I don't need to please you." You said in a pathetic whine that made him chuckle, he sat on the arm of the couch before placing his hands on your hips to turn you around, now looking at your pretty back. Oh... you had no underwear, such a considerate wife, making it easier for him to touch your pretty cunt that was already soaking wet for him…

His hand went under that excuse of clothing you were wearing, his fingers brushing against your wetness and he shook his head, letting out a sigh almost feeling disappointed.

“Such a pretty cunt… all wet for me”. He spoke, his voice husky with need, he slid a thick finger inside you, your walls clenching around it desperately, how could you play hard to get when you were this ready for him, darling?

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent the desperate sounds that wanted to come out of your mouth, your back arching to feel his finger deeper inside you as his fingertip rubbed your g-spot.

“J-John…” He silenced you immediately, taking his finger out of you and ignoring the whimper of protest, you felt him take off his belt and let it fall, the next thing you heard was the zipper of his pants, you stayed still, stifling a moan when you felt his swollen tip brushing your folds, your clit, collecting all the slick to use it as lube.

He finally sank his length inside you, angling his hips so he could hit that sweet spot of yours, letting out a grunt that made you throb and moan like the bitch in heat you knew you were for him.

"I do not want this". You spoke breathlessly, trying not to forget the kind of role-play you were in but it was difficult when your insides took him so well, you swallowed it all in the first thrust and after that he couldn’t control himself anymore.

His hands squeezed your hips with a force that would leave you bruised the next day, but who were you to protest? "You're taking it well, baby, so well..." He spoke, almost drooling as he felt his cock slide easily in and out of your juicy pussy that seemed to be begging to be filled with his seed. The thrusts echoed throughout the room and the sound was so gross that it only made you wetter, your delicious juices that John would drink later ran down your legs and it felt so good you were going dumb, a little dumb slut for your husband who was taking you as if his life depended on it.

And he came embarrassingly fast but could you blame him? The way you moaned was enough to send him over the edge, you were the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever seen and being inside you was a pleasure he was lucky to have.

How glad he was to have you in his life…

[sagi-tori-ous]

Older Boyfriend Price always gave you what you wanted, listened when you complained and was always patient with you.

Older Boyfriend Price knew when you wanted something but didn't know how to ask—it's when you started to get a little bratty...okay! maybe that was an understatement, you could be a full on brat.

You always got bratty when you wanted affection from him, you felt as if he should be giving it to you 24/7 anyway. You'd huff and pout, let tears stream down until you got what you wanted.

Older Boyfriend Price always knows how to resolve the issue, after all you were his brat.

The rough pads of Price's fingers, slick with your arousal, rub against your throbbing clit with vigor—Head lolled back, thighs spread wide and hips rolling to the rhythm he settled into.

You could feel Price's meaty cock nestled just between the lower part of your back and ass as you sat atop his lap.

"Oh~" Your moans are breathy, hitching ever so often as he keeps up such a consistent pace.

"Why y'running?" Price asks when your hips slide up—flinching when two fingers dip into your dripping entrance, wasting no time in curling up to directly come in contact with your g-spot.

"Right there..." the question unintentionally ignored, your mind focused on how Price massaged your spongy walls with such precision and speed.

Your legs push you farther into Price's naked lap and you shuffle your head into the crook of his neck as that familiar feeling in your abdomen builds feverishly.

Price's left hand finds your neck easily, wrapping his sizable hand around it whilst you chase your orgasm.

You could feel his gaze occasionally switch between your pleasure ridden face and drenched cunt—though you wouldn't dare to look at his rugged face.

You knew the hungry gaze that adorned it, you knew how fast that look would have your pussy gushing with a release, the thought alone had whines spilling shamelessly out of your mouth.

The tremor that was set in your legs was almost comical, but the action of closing said legs alongside your glazed eyes was laughable.

Price would never let that slide, you knew that.

"keep em' open." You ignored his command—intentionally, hoping to just revel in the feeling.

"not tellin you again." You knew the bite he had in his tone left no room for discussion.

You barely crack your eyes open, tears pricking the corners as your stomach starts to cave—unintentionally you lift your gaze to meet his, eyes already trained on you as he takes in everything you have to offer him.

Price dips his head to leave a firm kiss on your lips, suckling on your bottom lip briefly before letting go, " f'cking brat." His tone low and guttural, the mischievous gleam in his eyes evident.

" my f'cking brat." He clarifies.

Click me→ 🩵

𝐃𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: @deunmiu-dessie

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫: @cafekitsune @pwixi

[konigsblog]

riding price's face...

cw: female anatomy+titles, mentions of alcohol. 18+

john price is desperate and hungry to eat you out, especially when you're drunk, eyelids heavy with pleasure as you relax, letting him work you open.

he's always hungry for your sweet taste and your scent, that scent that has his meaty, and pulsating cock twitching, leaking and aching in his tight boxers and military issued trousers. he missed you so fucking much whilst on deployment, without your tight pussy -- and couldn't help himself from sharing a few drinks with his doll, before spreading your legs slowly, his lips moving against your pussy.

you cried out as your body jerked and twitched at the wet and warm sensation of his tongue against your clit, your breath hitching in your throat as he flicked and dragged his tongue between your folds, coating you in his saliva. the smell of vodka was strong and prominent, you could smell it off of him from between your legs. his breath hot and laboured against your thighs, squeezing them a few times as you rubbed your clit gently. your thumb moved in soothing circles, helping you become even wetter for john.

“attagirl...” he grumbled, gritting his teeth and rubbing the tip of his tongue against your clit teasingly. you moaned loudly, hand cupped over your mouth as you rocked your hips, grinding and presenting your glistening cunt against his mouth.

all price wants is to see his pretty baby cumming, making a mess. :(

[squishycheekanon]

Another sweet sweet price thot💋

Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.

He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.

He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.

But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.

Until he met you of course.

It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.

My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.

He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.

Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.

He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.

John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.

He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.

After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.

The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.

John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.

You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Constantly thinking of how John Price made his baby and toddler daughters cry..

You just sat there, trying your hardest not to laugh at your husband's regret and pained painted face as your baby's pout grows. Her little eyes squint as she took a deep breath before letting it out in a cry, you took her into your arms and away from where she sat on her dad's chest.

Gently patting your little princess's back as you snicker, wiping the tears form in your eyes. Your other daughter, now hiding behind your leg, gripping your pants for dear life, taking peeks at the "stranger". Poor baby didn't even recognize her father's voice, so distracted by the anomaly on his face.

"That's dada bumblebee, he just looks–" you pause with a giggle "—a tiny bit different.." With a huge pout still on her face, the chubby cheeked one looked up at you tear stained face, aggressive nose breathing to take a look at her dad again. She only faced you with despair, her face contorting back to an ugly cry.

He knows not to take it to heart but maybe it's best not to shave all of his facial hair next time.. anymore.. for the rest of his life..?

My CoD Masterlist

Edit: This was so last minute AHAHA

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 3: Poltergeist

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

3.8k Words

Warning/Notes: Ghost x Reader, a little of ass eating from Ghost, fingering, a bit mean Ghost, hair pulling, angst.

“Hey, Birdie.”

“Hey, Ghost.”

The two of you look at each other, each expecting the other to make a move. But since he doesn't seem bothered by the silence, you break it.

“Here for work or pleasure?” You ask opening the door as he chuckles.

“Well, that's not my choice.” He answers looking at you. “Half and half, I suppose.”

“Why is that?” You ask as you enter your flat, leaving the door open for him to enter. But when you notice he is not moving you turn to him. “Are you gonna come in or do I need to invite you like a vampire?”

You see the smile on his eyes (mainly because that's the only thing you can see of his face), and he impulses himself off the wall as he walks closer to your door. 

“And what would your neighbours think? A girl like you letting a man like me inside her house?” He asks cocking his head.

“Well, actually, I don't know if you have heard. But just last night my neighbour was taken by the police because turns out he was a terrorist or something like that, I'm not sure. So I think I am out of the competition for worst neighbour of the year, so, yeah, please c’mon in.” 

You hear him chuckle behind your back as you walk into your room, and a little later you hear the door close. Maybe calling it a room is a big stretch, your whole flat is a room. A small hall that goes from the door to where your bed is, a door on the hall to your bathroom and another one to your kitchen. 

Having breakfast in bed sounds great, but having lunch and dinner sounds a bit sad. But that's the flat you could get, and honestly, thanks to your neighbour's hobbies, at least you know the rent is not going to go higher.

“You know, jumping the wall on your balcony was ridiculously easy, you should probably get a lock for that window.” He comments looking at your window as he enters your line of vision.

“Then I would lose my deposit.” You answer sitting down on your bed to take off your shoes. You take off your jacket next and hang it in your closet. “Are you hungry?”

“Hmm, depends on what's the offer.” He says leaning against the wall again. He follows you with his gaze as you walk to your kitchen and open the fridge with a face. He chuckles when you close the door back and look at him. “Takeout?”

“Takeout it is.” You answer taking your phone out. “What do you fancy, Ghost?” 

“You know? Most people freak out when I get inside their house, don't ask me what I want for dinner.” He says crossing his arms.

“Should I freak out?” You ask looking at him with an eyebrow raised as you lend him your phone with the delivery app open. “Order whatever you want, I'm no picky. I'm gonna take a shower, if the food gets here there is money behind that frame.”

You point out the only frame on your whole house and walk into the bathroom. You try to walk with confidence, but once inside the room, you let a sight escape your lips.

When you said yesterday you were going to push Price and Kyle away, you didn't mean it as in pulling the rest of the team closer. 

This is bad, is mean and honestly, you must be on some weird week of your cycle where you are producing more pheromones than usual because you were chronically single for years and now can't seem to catch a break. 

You open the tap to wait for the water to warm up as you undress. Just as you take your shirt off your pants you notice you didn't pick your pyjamas, so you walk back out.

You see Ghost seated on your bed, back leaning against the headboard, feet dangling off the bedside and scrolling through your phone.

“You can take off your shoes, you know.” You comment as you pick up the plaid pants and massive sweatshirt you wear to sleep as well as your underwear.

“You are a sneaky one, you know.” He responds looking at you almost offended he didn't hear you exit the bathroom.

You chuckle at him and walk back inside the bathroom. The shower helps you calm your nerves, the man is in your bed, and he hasn't made any moves yet; probably because he is not into you, you need to humble yourself a bit. 

At some point you hear the doorbell and your stomach grumbles almost as a reaction. You quickly finish your shower, put on your clothes and walk back to the room. 

“Chinese?” You ask when you see the containers as he stays looking around. “Let me get the table out.”

You say winking at him when he looks at you confused and he gets even more confused when you kneel before him. You look up at him, laughing internally at what he must be thinking and then you get your nice arm under the bed and pull the foldable table under it. You take it out and with a shake, you unfold it, take your seat on the bed in front of the table and tap the bed next to you. “Have a seat.”

He sits next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and he takes the container out of the bags opening them. 

After a little, you decide to finally talk about the elephant and the room and ask: “So, did you just drop by in hopes I would invite you to dinner or do you actually have a mission today, Ghost?”

“Oh, yeah, about that. I actually had two missions today.” He says pulling his mask up so he can eat. You try not to stare at the little skin showing, but you quickly notice the stubble on his jaw. Blonde. “First one, finding out we're the girl from the captain's office was. That one was easy, thankfully cause the captain was freaking out. And the second one, figuring out why she left. That one is still ongoing.”

“And if the captain was freaking out why is it you the one that's on my house?” You ask looking at your plate, curious enough to ask but not brave enough to look.

“Cause he was scared the reason you ran away, was because of him or something he did. So he didn't want to make it worse.” He answers simply, you can feel his eyes on you. He bends down a bit to be able to see your face and ask. “Is that why you ran?” You shake your head. “Then why? It looks like you had fun.” 

You turn to him with furrowed eyebrows and notice that he is looking at your neck, you remember the lovebites and quickly try to cover them with your hand. 

“It was just…” you sigh. “I know when I am no longer wanted, and rather than make it awkward by making him drive me back or having to say bye I just… got out before he woke up.” 

“Hm, I still think you should talk to him. I’m pretty sure he wouldn't agree with you with the ‘not being wanted’ thing” He says doing quotation marks with a hand and taking his phone out to send a message with the other.

“He doesn't even know my name. Neither do you.” You almost mumble. I’m just another one on the list, you think. “I think he will be just fine.”

He winces as if he was in pain and says. “You a tough one, birdie.” He cleans off the rest of his plate and stands up. “You don't know my name either and you don't see me throwing a hissy fit.”

“I'm not throwing a hissy fit.” You say rolling your eyes.

“Did you… Did you just roll your eyes at me, birdie?” He says moving the table and standing between your legs. “Now that” He says pointing at your face. “That's a brat move.”

“I'm not a brat!” You try to defend yourself standing up, but as quickly as you get on your feet, Ghost manhandles you to be laying down on your stomach. He sits on top of your ass immobilising your hips and grabs your arm putting them behind your back leaving you unable to move. “Ghost, what the fuck?!”

“Language.” He says and you feel a hard slap land on your ass cheek making you yelp. “Are you going to behave or should I teach you a lesson, birdie?”

“What? What are you talking about? Get off me.” You mumble squirming under him.

“No, I don't think I will until you learn.” He chuckles as he begins to grind against your ass. He bends down to talk to up to your ears. “You should be grateful, that I found you and not Price. Do you know what he would have done if he found out you got back, walking, alone, in the middle of the night?” Three more hard smacks land on the same cheek when he sits up. “And that alone, without talking about the fact you were missing a shirt. And didn't even say goodbye. Not a phone number, not a name, nothing.” He lands two more on the same cheek and an even harder one on the other cheek. Leaving your arse burning and you wouldn't be surprised if it bruised, but still, the most surprising thing about the situation is that you can feel your underwear sticking to your cunt.

You truly are learning about yourself these days. 

He grabs two handfuls of the meat of your arse, pushing your cheeks together as he grinds with a grunt. Then he lets go, you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt being undone and it sends anxiety up your column. He must sense it because he says: “Calm down, birdie. I'm not giving you my cock until you beg for it, and only if you deserve it. And trust me, you don't.” 

He takes his belt off, aligns your forearms and ties them together behind your back. 

“Are you going to talk to Price? You can still leave unscattered.” He asks, putting his hands beside your head and leaning in to be closer to your face.

You look back at him from over your shoulder, face still push against your mattress, and try to look offended by how easily he got you tied, immobilised and horny. “I don't know.”

He makes the sound of a buzzer, like in the contest when they answer wrong. “Not what I want to hear, birdie.”

His index finger hooks the waistband of your pyjama pants as well as your panties, right above your ass and he pulls them down slowly. You hear him whistle as he pulls them down, feeling the cold hair of the room against your skin and against your glistering cunt. “I think I'm going to start by the desert tonight.”

He lands a loud smack on your naked arse, and when you try to complain, the sound gets strangled into a moan when you feel his tongue against your puckering hole. Getting your ass eaten by the mysterious masked man was not on your plans for tonight, but you are not complaining. 

You moan against the mattress, biting the sheets to try and conceal the sounds leaving your mouth. Your consolation, is the fact that you can feel Ghost moan against your skin, the vibrations travelling up to your nape giving you goosebumps. 

He gets his hands under your hips pulling them up, leaving you completely exposed. Ass up, face down, arms tied and knees together by your pants. He pulls back for a second to admire his job, you look already ruined and it's been less than a couple of minutes. 

You await, expectant, his next move, every single thought that was on your mind about how you should push him away and stand your ground, is silenced by the feral voices of your mind scratching the walls with the need for his mouth to be back on you.

“Look at you, birdie. Such a good girl all of a sudden. You are not a brat, you just need that attitude fuck out of you, right, doll?” He asks massaging your waist with both hands. 

“Fuck you.” You mumble, and Ghost lands a slap right to your cunt making you scream and arch your back to find distance from him.

“Language, birdie!” He says chuckling, amused with the situation. “C’mon, play nice, love. Are you going to talk to Price?”

His finger starts to travel up and down your slit, collecting the juices flooding from your cunt. He teases your entrance without getting inside.

“No.” You declared, tired of being played with.

“No?” He ask genuinely surprised. “Oh, I think you will.” He lands another hard slap on your pussy, right on your clit, and position his fingers so that when you arch your back again, you fuck yourself right into his finger. A loud moan escaped your lips at the sudden intrusion.

He raises his hand up to your nape, grabs your hair in a handful and pulls lifting your head off the bed. “I wanna hear you sing, birdie.” His fingers begin to move inside and out of your cunt making you groan softly, raising in volume as his tongue finds her way back to your ass.

You can feel his drool drip down your ass to where his finger is fucking your pussy, only adding to the mess. He uses the knuckle of his middle fingers to brush against your clit making you mewl and causing him to chuckle again. He can feel you clenching around his finger, and he pulls back to ask again. “Are you going to talk to Price?”

“No, fuck, no I won't.” You scream back. And immediately you wish you didn't. Ghost draws his finger back, and remains holding your head but otherwise untouched.

“Wrong answer again, doll. C’mon, tell me what I want to hear and I'll give you what want to get. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks. “No!” You answer, and the hardest slap to date lands on your ass making you cry out in pain. “Last chance, birdie. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks again.

You bite your lip, an inner battle going inside your mind. The stubbornness in you taking the lead, not even being reasonable, just stubborn. Another hit snaps you out of it. “Shit! Fine! Whatever, I'll talk to him.” 

“Good girl, birdie.” He grumbles against your ear as his fingers start to piston in and out of your cunt, the sting of the stretch by the second finger completely buried under the waves of pleasure. He keeps whispering pure filth onto your ears, unable to hear him over the ring of your ears caused by the stimulus on your weak point.

You feel drool drip down your chin into the sheets, but you can only focus on the tight knot inside your body. It's unfair how easy it seems to be for these men to make you come undone with barely touching you, it makes you think about those mediocre ex-lovers who would put the blame on you for taking so long to cum. Fuck them, these men, Kyle, Price and Ghost had you coming in minutes without even taking off their clothes.

Ghost brushed his knuckles against your clit again, and you can only moan his name before you are gushing over his hand. He helps you ride out your orgasm and slowly draws back his fingers. 

He stands up chuckling softly, you hear him walk into the bathroom, you hear the faucet open and close and then hear him walk back.

You feel the cold wet towel between your legs and it makes you jump off the surprise. “Sorry, you spend all the warm water, doll.” He says still snickering. He drops the towel on the table, pulls your underwear and pants up, takes his belt back and lies next to you caressing your hair. “Solid, birdie?”

You shake your head. “Pretty sure I'm liquid now, Ghost” You say absent-mindedly and rub your eyes as you yawn. He may have fingered the attitude out of you, but he also fuck the energy out.

“I think it's time for me to leave, thank you for the dinner, birdie. And for the desert.” He says, smiling at you. He lands a peck on your temple and stands up. “Lock your door when I leave. And talk to Price.”

When he turns his back at you, you roll your eyes standing up as well to close the door. He turns on his heels and looks down on you. “And don't roll your eyes at me, birdie. Don't give me an attitude. Lock the door.” He says and lights a cigarette as he makes his way out of the building. 

While you're are cleaning everything, tidying your room, getting ready to get into your bed when you get a message from a contact that is just a skull emoji. 

💀: Lock the door, birdie.

That's what you get for trusting him with you phone to order food.

“So she didn't say why?” Price asks Simon as he sits in the booth at the pub.

The both of them met there, a pub close to your house, Price too anxious to wait to get back to base to find out about Ghost’s discoveries.

“Negative.” Ghost answers setting the pints down. “She did make a great point, Captain.”

“Which is?” Price ask expecting

“We don't even know her name. Well, we do because of the background check we did to find her, but any of us have asked her.” Ghost responds. “And I thought you were the less hotheaded of the team, Captain.”

Ghost shakes his head as he laughs.

“Maybe try to talk to her when you are not saving her life? Maybe she will feel less overwhelmed then.” Ghost says taking his phone out to check his messages when he notices the vibrations. “Talking about the little bird.”

🐦: I told you I locked the dor

🐦: door*

💀: Awesome

🐦: ?

🐦: Go away, Ghost

💀: What are you talking about, birdie?

🐦: Stop messing with my door, I'm trying to sleep, you weirdo.

💀: It's not me.

💀: Are you sure it's your door and not your neighbours?

🐦: what neighbour?

💀: You and the terrorist are the only tenants on the building?

🐦: STOP MESSING WITH THE DOOR 

🐦: You are giving me the deposit money if you break it.

💀: I'm not at the door.

💀: Birdie?

💀: Don't ghost me now.

💀: Not on purpose.

💀: Birdie?

Ghost knit his brows at the lack of messages and look up to Price who seems lost in thought. “Maybe we need to save her again, Price. Your heart to heart talk will have to wait.”

7 minutes.

That's all it takes for Ghost and Price to reach your building. Guns in hands as soon as they saw your apartment door busted open.

Price felt his heart sink at the possibility of your being hurt, because of him and his inability to treat you the way he should. Waking up alone didn't hurt as much, he hadn't slept that good in who knows how long, and it was all thanks to the warmth of your body pressed against his.

So now, that only now has he found this comfort, the thought of it being ripped away from him before he could mend his error, was truly heartbreaking.

The nice thing about your house being this small, is that there is not a corner that remains unchecked. And still, you are nowhere to be seen.

But your flat is a mess. The dishes are broken all over the hall and kitchen floor, the fridge is leaning against the wall obviously having been pushed, your clothes are thrown all over the place, your mattress is cut out it's inside thrown around, your clothes mixing with the rest of the mess on the floor, and your wall…

“You will pay for your actions, whore.”

Can be read on the wall, big letters occupying the whole wall.

Your TV is missing, only the metal skeleton that holds it to the wall it's on is place. And your window is busted, that's when he sees it, a chair. On your balcony, as if it was used by somebody to jump.

Price walks up to the balcony so fast, Ghost grabs his shirt unsure of the Captain's plan. “She probably jumped to the apartment next door, Captain. Let's check it.” The younger says to try and calm the Captain. He nods and they both make their way to the apartment next door.

It is just as destroyed as yours, but still, no sign of you. They make their way back to your apartment and Price sits down burying his face on his hands.

Ghost takes out his phone again and he calls you, anxious waiting for you to pick up. But you don't, instead, a silly music begins to sound from under your bed. Tranquillity floods their senses, only for it to be destroyed when the only thing they find is your phone under your bed.

“Fuckin’ hell, birdie. Where are you?” Ghost asks out loud.

THUMD

Both men whip their to the sound, and come face to face with your closet. Now, one of the things you like about your flat, is the closet. Built into the wall. With a ridiculously small space on top of it.

Both men look astonished, as a hand starts to crawl his way out of the false ceiling of the closet. You pop your head next, and when you confirm is the two men and not whoever entered your house just a couple of minutes ago, you start to bawl your eyes out.

When you heard the people force their way into your house, you automatically got yourself into the space on the false ceiling in your closet. You stayed there, contorted into yourself and used every ounce on yourself to not make a noise. 

You heard how they rampaged your little home, how they screamed, how they destroyed everything.

It was merely a couple of seconds, but it felt like hours. And when you heard them come back for a second time, you were certain they would hear the beat of your heart. Until you hear what sounded like the sweetest desert on the universe, Ghost's voice, asking where you were.

The sheer fear that just saved your life, now turned you into a sobbing mess of tears and drool as you melt onto Ghost's arms once he holds you.

You feel Price's hand rubbing your back as he kisses your shoulder shushing you.

“It's all right, darling. We are here now. You are safe. No one is going to get to you now.”

Hii! 💗

Hoped you liked the new chapter, reader collecting these men like they are pokemon hehe wish that was me

Taglist: @pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline

[celestialwhoree]

🎀🩷

John Price & his wifey💕

Price considers himself a somewhat traditional man, and he's proud of it! Not in the sense that he believes that women belong in the kitchen and that men should call the shots, but in the belief that women should be respected - looked after.

His now wife is perfectly happy to indulge him in that way. She's far from docile or subservient like most men expect of housewives, oh no, she's an absoulute firecracker when it comes down to it, which only makes John love her more.

She's happy to play house, 'hold down the fort' as John calls it, which makes her feel important. He works so fucking hard, and she just wants him to have a beautiful home and lots of yummy food to come back to.

She has a part time job or works from home, because she flat out refuses to be financially dependent on anyone. Upon marrying John, though, she was able to quit her 9-5 that made her miserable and persue her passions.

John gets her a dog to keep her company until they can think about starting a family proper. He's most definitely antsy to have kids with her though. He's already training up his subordinates to a standard which will allow him to take a more hands off approach and spend more time at home.

The 141 know he's married, but John only really talks about her when asked. He wants to protect her, but also wants to seperate the little life he's building for himself from the blood and gore of the life he's getting ready to leave behind.

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Napping with Captain John Price

My blog is 18+ minors DNI

No warnings, allusions to smut but nothing hefty. Price is a sleepy idiot.

Price sleeps like the dead, so clear your schedule if you’re planning on napping with him. No alarm will rouse him, no tactfully placed elbow shall wake him. One nap lasted four hours and you missed your dinner reservations, and you lost the feeling in your right hand for an hour afterwards.  

Nap with the Captain at your own peril. 

But you’ve never been good at taking your own advice. 

You rouse slowly, a great weight pressing you into the mattress makes your breath hitch. John’s face is pressed between your breasts, his hot breath tickling your skin as he sleeps peacefully above you. 

“John,” you groan as you try and shift the half-naked man from atop you, but it’s no use. You look up at the ceiling and let out a frustrated sigh. Your phone is just out of reach as you stretch out to try and grab it. 

“John, come on,” you whine and try to wiggle under him, but you’re pinned, completely immobile as he smothers you from the chest down. 

“Sleeping,” he grunts, making your skin vibrate at the low timbre of his voice, “Go back to sleep.” 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” you protest as you shove at his broad shoulders, but it only serves to encourage him to nuzzle his face into your breast once more. 

“Five more minutes,” he bargains, before humming happily as he presses a soft kiss to your clothed chest. 

“You’re incorrigible,” you grumble as you scrape the nails of your free hand along his scalp.

A soft “hmmm” is all you get in response as John is drawn back into the deep dark abyss of sleep. 

You stretch a little further to try and grab your phone, but still, it’s just out of reach.

You smile to yourself in exasperation, you know you’re going to wake up in five hours to a disorientated and – very likely – horny man. 

Might as well get some sleep yourself. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

“Just resting my eyes” (Napping with Ghost) Napping with Soap Napping with Gaz Napping with König CoD Masterlist

[captjprice]

Price who, for no reason, gives the best hugs ever. He always wraps his arms totally around you, lifting you up a little.

Price who sees you as the peak of his pride— he's really not one to show off, but come on.. he's somehow managed to have you! How can't he tell everyone about you?

Price who always needs to be around you. Always. There's rarely a moment that you're alone. You two are practically connected at the hip.

Price who makes you text him everyday on the rare occasion you're on a mission without him, giving updates and always a cute picture of yourself because he just misses you so goddamn much.

Price who doesn't really understand phone privacy. Always leaves his phone unlocked with you, or asks you to send one of the teammates a text via his phone. He doesn't get it, he's not hiding anything, so why wouldn't you be okay with his phone?

Price who absolutely loves seeing you in his clothing, whether you're wearing a lot or a little. It makes him feel all giddy to see you like that, like his.

Price who wears stupid ass socks. It started as a weird Christmas joke, with Kyle and Soap giving him these socks with santa on it. Every holiday since then he's been getting them.

Price who is low-key??? A sugar daddy?? He knows that's not why you're with him, but he just wants to spoil you. The same with his phone, what's his is yours. He doesn't really know what else to spend the money on.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 10)

first chapter >> last chapter

-

In the wee hours of the morning, you wake up to a man’s hands tilting your pelvis back. There’s a pillow propping your hips up, your cheek pressed to the mattress and rump high in the air. You must have been sleeping when he turned you over onto your stomach. Maybe you turned over in your sleep and he took advantage of the fact, hooking an arm under you to lift your hips up and stuff the pillow under there.

Either way, he has you right where he wants you. Rough hands spread the cheeks of your backside apart to give him space to lap at your sex from behind. The moment you feel his tongue part your folds and lick a line up the center of you, you panic. Sleep sloughs off you in a single rogue wave that submerges you before you swim your way to the surface, skin tingling and heart frantically beating in your chest.

Your memory of the night before comes back piecemeal, only the soreness between your legs registering at first. You kick back weakly, trying to rip yourself away from the stranger behind you. A desperate, panicked noise tumbles out of you when he doesn’t so much as budge. 

The man pulls away from you just long enough to growl, “Quit fussin’—’s just me,” before giving you a tight smack across your rear. 

You’re awake and present now, jolted forcibly into consciousness. When the sound of John’s voice washes over you, your panic abates. Not a stranger, not a stranger, just your husband. It quells the fear in your belly that threatens to spark off a wave of hysteria. 

Then he runs his tongue up your slit again, his beard chafing the delicate skin of your sex, and you howl into the pillow.

Thick fingers stretch you open until you’re loose enough to take him again. He says as much in your ear before climbing over you and feeding his dick into your cunt. When his hips surge forward, hands braced on your shoulders to hold you in place, you choke on a gasp. He gives you no time to recover. The slow adoration of the evening’s love making is long forgotten, replaced by the mindless rutting of a ravenous man. He woke up with an empty belly.

You can feel his hunger when he bears down over you, holding you in place. The frantic pace of his hips. Hairy chest and belly to the tacky skin of your back. The lurid, wet sound of his flesh smacking against yours, thick cock spearing you open again and again. He bottoms out with every thrust, reaching a depth that feels impossible. All you can do is take it.

“John—” you start, but he reaches around to wrap a hand around your mouth, trapping the rest of your sentence behind his palm. Your cry comes out muffled, incomprehensible. 

“Shh—just let me—” John grunts, trailing off into a groan when your walls squeeze around him. You can’t help it. 

A disgusting thing in you is thrilled that he wants you this badly, that he loses control of his faculties this way. Trades in that veneer of a righteous man for animal lust. A sick deviance that you didn’t know you possessed raises its head and relishes in his need. It makes you cant your hips back to take him better, the new angle making you see stars. 

You find yourself infuriated at being denied the chance to look at him, sweating and panting like a bull, muscled chest rising and falling with his breaths. 

He’s too deep in the fog of exhaustion to say more than a few words. He’s mostly rough grunts behind you, breathing heavy into your neck, his sweaty palm still clamped over your mouth. He keeps it there even when your tongue lolls out and presses against his palm. 

Everything is hot and dark under the cover of night. Frustration builds and builds beneath your skin as you can hear his breath grow labored, your husband on the verge of coming. Unlike a few hours ago when he had you on your back, the root of his cock doesn’t grind against your clit in this position, pulling you back from the edge every time you think you’ll tip over.

He sucks and licks at the skin of your neck, his big palm swallowing up your pathetic mewls. When he fits his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing down lightly, you give a whole body flinch. Any shame still lingering in you melts right out. 

When he comes, you feel the flood of warmth inside of you. The breath whooshes out of you when John puts his whole weight on top of you, forcing your body down into the mattress. He fucks you through his orgasm, the last few thrusts jostling you in his arms and making you cry out. Like he wants to make sure you take every single drop. 

You lie there panting until he pries his hand off your mouth, stroking up and down your side. For a moment, you almost think he’s going to leave you like that, right on the verge of reaching your peak, unsatisfied. Then, your eyes go wide when he shoves a hand under you and gropes around until his fingers find your pearl, rubbing it until your breathing goes high and hitched, coaxing your orgasm out of you. 

Your orgasm leaves you limp and sated. A mess in your bed. Too exhausted to even think about cleaning up. 

“Thank you, honey,” John mumbles, turning your head with the same hand that just made you come to draw you into a kiss. “Needed that.”

You don’t have the energy to respond, so you just hum instead. You don’t know how long it takes you to fall back asleep, but you lie there panting and twitching until it takes.

The morning has you fluttering around the house all nervously, somehow unsure of yourself. It feels like there’s been a fundamental shift in your marriage, like the house has finally settled in place. The next couple days are much the same. 

John just seems as self-assured as usual, almost smug about it. That drives you a bit wild.

He’s never been shy about touching you, but you hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding back before. It’s like he can hardly bear to take his hands off you now, tugging you into his lap at night during his Bible study, something you follow along half-heartedly, your faith being more of a consequence of birth than anything. His faith is built on stronger foundations. You imagine he could quote verses from memory if pressed. 

In truth, nothing changes in any significant way. All that worrying for naught. John still takes you on trail rides to show you the lay of the land, taking you out so far as to see the herds of bison and wild horses down in the valley. You watch them silently from a distance as they graze, sustaining themselves on wild grasses and forbs. Cloves, daylilies, and milkweed. 

“Where are the bears?” you ask curiously. John snorts.

“I ain’t taking you out to see them, darlin’.”

In the evening after supper, John takes the horses into the stables and you offer to groom them while he sets up targets for shooting practice. He’s been insistent on teaching you how to shoot. It’s another skill that you otherwise might have gone your whole life without learning, but John makes it clear in no uncertain terms that you’ll learn.

Most of your shots are wildly off target, the birds in a nearby tree bursting into flight and taking to the skies when you accidentally shoot into the lower branches. You wince. John just laughs, showing you how to reload your gun.

Just like with learning how to ride a horse, you wake up in pain the following morning, moaning when your husband nudges you awake. He’s familiar enough with the sound of your pleasure to know that this is anything but that.

“Think you’ve earned a week off, bug,” he says, turning you over onto your tummy and massaging your shoulders.

You sigh. “Thank goodness.”

John laughs.

You squirm on the ride into town, muffling a yip when John pinches your thigh. It’s not your fault that the brute has been working you like a draft horse. When you tell him as much, he rolls his eyes.

“Think you can handle being on your own today?” John asks, his eyes locked on yours.

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t think that would land you with a raw backside by nightfall. Over the last few weeks, he’s indulged your attitude more than a handful of times, relegating his discipline to a few curt words or a quick smack across your rump, but even you aren’t willing to test the limits of his leniency.

“Yes, daddy,” you quip instead. A little lip hasn’t hurt you yet.

You recognize the grave mistake you just made when you see the glint in his eye. “Daddy, huh? That right?”

You stare up at him blankly, struck dumb. “Uh. I didn’t…” The way he says the word makes your mouth go dry, mind empty. A desiccated tumbleweed rolls by in the distance. 

John’s lip curls up into a smile. Your stomach flips at the sight of the hunger receding in his gaze, descending back down into the abyss. “We’ll talk about that when we get home.”

“You’re not leaving me with Kate?” you ask, clearing your throat. A desperate attempt to steer the conversation away from your unfortunate slip up. It’ll be a cold day in hell before John Price lets go of an opportunity to use your own words against you though. 

He must be feeling rather magnanimous though because he holds your gaze for a moment longer before saying, “Not today, m’afraid. She has business out of town for the next few days, so she has someone minding the shop while she’s gone.”

You frown. “She went on her own?”

“‘Course not—Kyle went along with her. Sure she’ll be pleased that you asked though.”

“She’s been nice to me,” you mumble, mollified. A bit embarrassed to be caught worrying about anyone other than yourself.

It’s not entirely unreasonable. You have a hair trigger worry cultivated from the life you’ve lived. The events of the last month have only worsened your disposition to fret. Though Kate carries herself with the quiet confidence of a woman fully capable of taking care of herself, you can’t help the way your stomach aches at the thought of her traveling between towns on her own. That lonely, deserted stretch of road.

“I’m not planning on leaving town today—got no reason to. Figured you might enjoy having a day to look around town on your own, but you just give me a holler if you need me and I’ll come running the second I hear you.”

You understand the bigger picture here. He’s not quite letting go of the reins, but he is loosening his hold on them, giving you some slack. A few weeks ago, you would’ve waited until he rounded the corner and then bolted for the train station, luggage be damned. Even a stage coach would have sufficed. 

You can’t seem to locate that same impulse now. Instead, you find yourself nodding and then leaning up for a parting kiss. You almost feel a bit bereft as you watch John walk off. Almost lonely.

Without someone watching over you, you feel adrift. Lost at sea. It’s concerning to learn how dependent you’ve become on the company of others. Back home, there were stretches of days where your voice would go rusty from lack of use. 

Now you feel strangely unmoored without someone within earshot. 

You’d bet your bottom dollar that John really would come running if you were to shout though. The thought makes your heart flutter. You’re a far cry from the girl that came into town not that long ago. You can’t imagine how she’d feel about the notion—that all you need do is raise your voice above a whisper for the county sheriff to come running.

When you think of the lawmen you used to fear though, John’s face seems incongruous with the image in your head of a grim-faced sheriff chasing after you, rifle and handcuffs in hand. Not that he couldn’t be that man, of course, but it feels like a version of him far removed from the man whose bed you share. 

The John you know stands behind you when he teaches you how to hold a gun and pull it tight into your shoulder. The man you know helps you up onto Buttercup’s saddle and guides you with a hand on your back and stomach to help you find your rhythm. 

You shake the thought from your mind. You spend enough time around the man—you don’t need him occupying your every thought as well.

You take your midmorning coffee at the inn, catching up with the woman you met on your first day in town. The innkeeper gives you a perfunctory greeting upon your arrival before settling behind the front desk to tally up the week’s earnings and review the ledger. His wire-rim glasses slip down his nose whenever he has to bend down to better read his own notes. His wife notices as well, tisking at the tenth offense in as many minutes. 

The coffee grounds are visible at the bottom of your cup when you see yourself out. 

It occurs to you as you make your way around town that you know practically every person you pass by. Perhaps not intimately, but enough that you can hardly pass one of the buildings without someone stopping you to say hello. You bounce a baby in your lap at the bank, eat a slice of cake at the restaurant with the owner, and even stop in for a spot of tea at the courthouse when the circuit judge sees you pass by on your way to the library.

The camaraderie is disconcerting. You’ve gone the bulk of your life invisible, for all intents and purposes, and the attention you garner through your affiliation with John has you on edge. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but it gets under your skin after a while. Perhaps it is unpleasant. 

Your feelings are, as always, complicated. Knotted.

A former scullery maid could not hope for a better improvement to her life, but isn’t it unfortunate that it took someone else for the world to see your worth? You could resent them for it, all of them. But it’s pleasant to be sought after, lovely to share a conversation that doesn’t end in a command. How could you begrudge John for giving you that?

The library is quiet when you arrive. A simple two-room building situated close to the town church. An older woman fusses over you when you walk in, fetching you a cup of tea before showing you to a comfortable place to sit. 

“Were you looking for anything in particular, dear?” she asks after handing you a floral print cup with a dainty little handle meant for no more than two fingers. 

“Well actually,” you start, worrying at your lip with your teeth. “I was wondering if you might have anything…instructive.”

She blinks. “Instructive?”

“Yes, um…” You abruptly recall the story that John had concocted about your former life as a school teacher. The desire to reveal to this woman that you cannot, in fact, read suddenly stills on your tongue. “Poetry maybe?” The request comes out feebly. 

She brightens, however. “Of course. I should have some Dickinson, if you’ll give me a moment.”

You thank her when she returns with a book that has clearly just been dusted off, streaks of grime still present on the cover, but when you crack it open, all you can do is stare at the words on the page hopelessly. While a few you recognize as words you’ve heard read aloud or seen on signs or on the front page of the newspaper, you can’t make heads or tails of the rest. All you can do is pretend to read, flipping the page every couple of minutes when the librarian happens to glance over at you.

Now is the moment of your discontent. It’s not long before you get up and tell her that you have to be on your way, thanking her profusely for her hospitality. You leave disgruntled though, upset that you hadn’t considered the implications of John’s story. Another fabrication catching up to you. It leaves you feeling restless, no choice but to wander aimlessly through town.

Despite knowing most of their faces and names, you feel indescribably lonely. 

Your wandering leads you to the general store, where inside Kate’s replacement stands behind the counter and smiles politely when you come in. You contemplate turning right back around at first, but there are still plenty of hours left in the day and your plan to spend the afternoon in the library practicing your words is now in shambles, completely upending your schedule. You could return to the inn to practice your needlework with the innkeeper’s wife, but you don’t want to overstay your welcome. 

You sigh. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be able to convince John to let you stay home alone. There’s plenty you can do around the house. 

If Kate were minding the store, you would’ve pulled up a chair, but instead you duck towards the back of the store to peruse the aisles in peace. The majority of the shopwares line the walls around the store—buggy whips, horse tack, lanterns, pails, and various farm tools—but the few standing shelves at the back of the store hold a variety of foodstuff that you’ve never seen before. Canned goods and spices, dried food and tins of ground coffee. 

Had you thought to check the pantry earlier, you might’ve been tempted to purchase something. You still have a half-full coinpurse in the pocket of your dress. It’s not as though you’re penniless.

You chew on your lip. You will, at some point, need to broach the topic with John if you don’t anticipate leaving for a while. You might as well have some spare change on hand.

The bell above the door chimes when someone else walks in, cutting off your train of thought.

At first, you pay them no mind. Tucked away behind the aisle as you are, there’s no chance of them seeing you. No reason for you to peek your head around and say hello. The floorboards creak under the weight of their boots with every step as they approach the counter. The sound of their footsteps has an interesting cadence, almost an arrogant swagger; you can tell that it’s a man. You can hear Kate’s replacement greet them. 

The spurs on his boots jingle with each step.

Curiosity nips at you, but you stay rooted in place, fighting the urge to get up on your tiptoes to look over the top of the shelf. Your stomach churns though. Despite not a single word spoken, the atmosphere in the store feels tense.

“Pardon me,” the newcomer finally says, his voice a molasses-thick drawl, almost sticking to the roof of his mouth. It’s not a voice you’ve ever heard before. “I’m wonderin’ if you might be able to help me with somethin’, seein’ as how I just got into town.”

“However I can, sir. What do you need help with?” the shopkeep asks.

You hear the man take something out of his pocket and then unfold it, the paper crinkling when he spreads it out across the counter. “Name’s Graves. I’m lookin’ for a girl and wonderin’ if she mighta passed through town. I’ve got a warrant to bring her back east on account of a murder charge.”

Every inch of your body goes cold.

[miguel-owhora]

thinking about retired!price, so insatiable with nothing to do, fingering his cunt and grinding against pillows with your musk thick shirt pressed up against his nose. his body becomes softer with nothing to do, love handles forming and a bigger belly growing, with thighs soft and jiggly, and an ass so pretty and plush like a sweet, juicy peach.

you're still away on deployment, a couple years younger than price and still in your prime. you can't wait for the day where you finally retire, where you can spend the rest of your days with your husband.

but price can't wait—he's paranoid that someone else will get your attention and steal you away from him. someone younger, more attractive, and despite your reassurance that such thing won't happen, it eats away at him. so he does the only logical thing he can come up with.

when you come back on break, you have a hard time getting john off you. he's insatiable, his fingers running all over your body, more than happy to pull down your pants and lavish your cock in affection. he'll throw you onto bed, remind you why exactly he was captain, and milk you for all you're worth. he'll run you dry and keep on going, as if he was young again. and sure, his legs burn, exhaustion nips at him, but fuck, he'll keep on making you cum inside his pussy if it means he'll have your kids.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Retired Price

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Retired Price

SFW & NSFW

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SFW

Retired Price who retired at the ripe age of 45

Retired Price married his wife a few years ago and once he retired they renewed their vows and Price works from home or would volunteer at random places around the town

Retired Price who started to lowkey become a househusband doing the chores for his wife while she was work

Retired Price who started to set up a home office for his wife for whenever she has to work from home, she use to work on her laptop but sometimes overheated because of the amount of files she saved

Retired Price who started to sleep in 24/7 no matter the day or time, he slept in

Retired Price who started a small garden with fresh vegetables, he also starts planting flowers around the house (again househusband)

Retired Price who makes your lunch when you forget to make it the night before or if you are in a hurry in the morning time, he’ll always come and personally deliver it to you

Retired Price who started to hang out with his military friends again, he was ‘off the grid’ for a little bit to spend time with his wife

Retired Price who grocery shops and sometimes buys things for you online. You won’t know till you see a package on the front porch with his name on it but then seeing a sticky note with ‘For My Love’ on it (of course you knew it was John. No delivery man {or woman} would ever write that)

Retired Price who loves seeing you get ready for girls night. Seeing you sitting in the sink doing your eyeliner and eyeshadow as you were also trying to see which dress would look better with your makeup till you ask for his opinion

“Which one, John. Red, black or white?” She asked, switching between the dresses against her body.

“Red, it looks lovely on you,” he says.

“Okay!” She says with a smile.

Retired Price who made sure to be your personal driver for girls night. He knows that sometimes you can get yourself a bit…out of control to put it nicely

Retired Price who carries you through the door at 1 in the morning. You slung over his shoulder and your feet almost hitting him in the face when the door slams.

“Woah! Hey t-there big g-guy I’m m-married, I’m n-not interested in y-you,” she hiccups as Price places you on the couch.

“Love, you’re drunk. Let’s get you to bed so you can sleep it off,” he says with a chuckle.

“No. You w-will use me like trash and toss me away l-like a used c-condom,” she hiccups.

“What? Love come on,” Price tries to take you up to your shared bedroom.

NSFW

Retired Price who strips you from your work clothes and kisses every part of your body while also complimenting you

Retired Price who shows you a few moves while he was away in the military

Retired Price who wakes up late one Saturday morning to catch you in nothing but an apron cooking pancakes with pancake mix all over your body

“Love *yawn* what time is…it…” he trails off seeing your round ass on full display for him and once you turned around had pancake mix on your forehead, cheeks and nose

“Oh good morning.”

“A good morning indeed,” he smirks while walking up to you and pinning you to the counter kissing every inch of your body and fucking you till the house smelt of burnt pancakes

Retired Price who learned why he loves leggings/yoga pants, to watch your ass as also get a sneak peek of what underwear you are wearing while you workout. He also doesn’t watch the morning News, nope, he watches his wife workout, it’s better entertainment

“Pink lace?”

“Dammit. I thought you couldn’t see them,” you curse as you were doing upward dog.

“Just a bit,” you heard him get off the couch and you felt a slight sting on your ass, you yelp and land on your knees rubbing the spot he smacked

Retired Price who loves you sitting on his face. He slightly developed a slight bleach spot from where you’d cum or just leak your juices on him

Retired Price whose eyes are trained to look and stare at every private part of your body. You catch him every time

Retired Price who starts buying you smut books and recreat the scenes. Your ass in the air, him deep inside of you and the book opened to the part you two are recreating

“So he starts thrusting, a bit slow, then she says.”

“Harder…faster…” you moan as Price does just that.

Retired Price who has multiple nude photos and lewd videos of you. He stares at them and also jacks off to the ones he love the most like the one with your mouth wide open and his cum leaking into your mouth

[konigsblog]

Bring pack pornstar!price please omg just imagine all the filthy things hed do

bring back pornstar!price, you say? absolutely :3 🩷

one of his most popular videos includes him eating you out. dragging his wet, warm tongue up and down your slit before easing his fingers inside, pumping them while you shake and tremble at the stimulation. the viewers watch as he curls his thick, rough fingers instead your pretty hole, drinking up all the slick that oozes and seeps from your glistening cunt! all while his beard slowly begins to get wetter and wetter with his constant sucking and flicking.

women love the way he eats pussy; dragging his tongue over your clit, his nose grazing it occasionally. small touches to your sensitive nub. they're surprised at how well you can hold back during orgasm denial, that they'd be cumming all over him in seconds...

beard burn is real, especially on your soft thighs :3 covered in cum and slick, with them aching afterwards. john price definitely records him jerking off to the sight of your raw pussy after he'd ate you out. not even fucking you or giving you the chance to have him deep inside your cunt, but shooting a hot, thick load over your folds and clit and thighs while the viewer drool...

[squishycheekanon]

Just a little price thot🥰🌸

You meet Price in a supermarket. Bumping right into him, more like slamming into him. The pint of chocolate ice cream and box of extra soft tisses that were safety tucked in your arms going all over the floor. Moving rather swiftly for a beefy man of his size, he quickly darts to the ground to grab the dropped items.

He’s so careful about the way he gives them back to you, holding them out to you with a small smile. The comfort items look so much smaller in his hands than they did in yours, he doesn’t even have them all the way out to you. They’re practically against his stomach, unconsciously encouraging you to come to him for them.

Then you look into his eyes and you think you feel your knees going weak, he definitely feels his buckling. The way you blink up at him with your pretty eyes all teary with smudged mascara and your soft lips formed into a sad little pout.

The words who did this he instinctively wants to say die on his tongue when he realises you aren’t his to protect, you don’t even know each other. Strangers, and he already wants to fight your battles without even know what they are.

“M’sorry.” You sniffle.

“Not a problem little darlin.” It’s a deep rumble from within his chest when he speaks. Thin lips curving up slightly, his bushy moustache moving with them, those thick mutton chops and that full beard catching your attention too. His voice is gruff and accented. You reckon you could listen to it every second of the day and never want for silence.

John was there from then on. He was just there, had inserted himself into your life, almost like a stray cat you feed once and suddenly it comes back everyday. This gorgeous older man had simply become a part of your day to day life.

You’re heading to work? He’s giving you a lift in his black chevy truck. You’re on your lunch break? He’s luring you outside for a cute little picnic in the park. You’re finishing work? He’s taking you back to your place and staying. He’s cooking you dinner, massaging your tired body. Lingering touches and longing stares. He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he fancied you.

Especially when it came to you dating other guys. He’d hate when you’d come home after a date, he’s in your apartment obviously waiting for you to return, and you’re all sad it didn’t work out. Questioning yourself and your worth or beauty. It would have Price’s ruggedly handsome face contorting in anger.

He would tell you no man would ever be good enough for you. He would also say no one was deserving of you. John would express that although he very much believed that, he would love it if you gave him the chance to try.

You would be so confused what he meant. Only understanding when he would hover over you, caging you in with his tall, burly figure and repeating the words “be mine” over and over again like a mantra.

He caught a look in your eyes at his words, similar to the one he saw when he first met you. It was clouded with confusion and want but it was there. Price knew. It was so obvious he wondered how no one else had seen it. But he knew, one look into your pretty eyes and he knew you needed taking care of. And the retired vet was more than happy to fill that role in your life.