#Call of Duty Captain Price

[starryylies]

Forbidden summer nights

Some lines are crossed with just a touch

Dbf! Price, porn with plot, dubious consent (sorta), age gap (reader is 19-20, John is in his late 30s).

Hope you like :)

He’s over for summer this year,

he’s always around either drinking with your father or working out.

His physique was impressive. Way too impressive for a man his age,

It felt so wrong to look at him that way though,

Good girls don’t look at their dad’s best friend that way right?

You try telling yourself it’s unnatural and gross that he’s as old as your dad..

But he’s just so muscular and strong. His big hairy chest glistening with sweat while he works out, deep grunts echoing in the living room as he does his push ups.

the guest room was undergoing some work so you both now share a room for the night,

“Y’ sure love? Wanna share yr’ room with an old man like Me? Migh’ wake ya up early I know you like sleepin’ in late”

“Hm yea, I don’t mind sharin’ sir plus it would be nice to wake up early for a change” you look up to him and give him a cute smile.

At night you wore your modest PJ’s because mama won’t let you sleep in those lil shorts with a man so big :(

As you nestled into your comfy pillow John gives you a small goodnight kiss on the back of your head before you sleep.

You try your hardest to conceal your feelings, the ache between your legs and the perverted fantasies about your father’s best friend but it all goes to waste when you wake up feeling his boner prodding your back.

You try moving away but his big meaty arms are caging your little body, pressing it against his.

You turn around to face him only for your face to be pressed right against his chest, his chin resting on your head.

“John” you softly mumble in an attempt to wake him up.

“Mhm” he groans half asleep, his tent is now pressed right on your covered cunt.

“John wake up” you push him softly, waking him up.

“Wha’ happened love?”

“um your, it’s poking me” you blush as you hide your face on his chest under the sheets.

He lets out a mocking laugh, “say that again baby?”

“Y-you heard me” you stutter out. The ache between your legs growing as his deep voice rumbles through your spine.

“Use your big girl words lovie, yr’ not a lil girl anymore” he smirks out as he cradles your body with his.

You don’t answer and just curl up against his burly body, trying to save yourself from the wave of embarrassment crashing over you.

“Talk t’ me love” he demands as he lifts your chin up, his fingers grazing across your lips.

“your cock sir, your cock is poking me” you mummer.

“Attagirl, wasn’t so hard now was it?” He smirks as he cradles your face in his palm. You feel so small under him, his hand is as big as your face.

He’s kissing your forehead softly while his other hand grips your ass and pulls your lower half closer to his clothed cock, instinctively rubbing it against your clothed cunt.

He pulls his shorts off quickly, removing the blanket that hid the rest of your body from him.

He slowly pulls your pyjamas off your legs, fingers tracing your thighs as he places his angry cock between your thighs, your brain going dumb as it rubs across your sensitive and neglected clit.

You stifle your moans as he rubs himself on you.

“Yr’ mom and dad are sleepin’ in the room next to us baby, wouldn’t want them waking up to see their precious daughter grinding herself dumb on their friends cock would ya?”

“No, m sorry sir”

“Hush baby, no need t’ say sorry t’ me just rock your lil cunny.” He grabs your hips and rocks you against his cock. “Jus’ like that baby, doin so good fo’ me”

“D’ya wanna sit on daddy’s lap and hump on his cock like it’s a rocking chair?”

“Ahh yessss please would lovee that daddy” you slur out as he lifts you up and places you on his cock, his hands guiding your hips to rock back and forth.

“Jus’ like that baby, yess go back and forth yes jus’ hump on it like a rocking chair, yer’ doin’ so well gonna milk cummies out of yr’ old man’s cock”

“Yes yes yes, wan’ daddy’s cummies on me. Please daddy, let me cumm too.” You moan out, your eyes rolling back as your body rocks on his, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast.

You fall onto his chest, his big arms cradling you like a baby, his cum decorating your thighs as you fall asleep in his arms.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

Header credits- @anitalenia

[italktoomuchxd]

Retired!PriceXPainter!Reader

He got injured... bad, really bad. He even thought he was dead this time, but all that blood and tears now left him with a limp leg and a few scars all around his body that caused him to retire, to put all that effort on a shelf to dust. He got lonely and sad; his psychiatrist advised him to get a hobby that didn't include guns, violence in particular. He tried cooking but failed. Picking up an instrument? Hell no, he already had a hard time hearing, so he tried painting.

He enrolled in a late-night art course designed for individuals eager to tap into their creative potential. Seated among a lively group of older women sharing stories and laughter, he felt a surge of shyness. After years of military service, engaging in discussions about art and personal expression was a daunting challenge.

However, everything shifted when you gently touched his shoulder, your warm smile easing his anxieties with your radiating young energy.

“That's a lovely piece, Mr. Price, but you may want to add a few more warm tones to the apple; it'll bring it to life.”

Motivated to impress you, he dedicated himself to improving his skills, often arriving early and staying late, eagerly seeking your advice. As the weeks went by, the bond between you grew stronger. He found himself fascinated by your love for art and your vibrant teaching style, stealing glances at you during class while his heart raced at the thought of the moments shared in your presence.

Eventually, you found yourself on his bed, the air thick with unspoken emotions and tantalizing possibilities. He had never imagined that a simple art course could lead to such profound moments, but with you, everything felt different—alive and exhilarating.

[aangell333]

mmsmskejnenenene had this thought older!bf john price dressing you up as his little slut.

he’d take you out to all the best boutiques in town, picking out the shortest skirts and the tiniest tops that show off all his favourite features of yours.

he’d pay for it all, from the most expensive victoria’s secret lingerie to the cheapest shein skirts with the shitty quality material he can (and has) rip(ped) apart in one hand.

he would take pride in knowing you love to parade yourself around, embracing your femininity and sexuality that’s all his. he would take pride in dressing you in the littelest outfits that make old ladies turn up their nose.

but the only downside, the two of you can’t make it out the house before he’s put his face up your skirt. he’ll tower over you, using his height to his advantage as he forces your onto the bed and simply presses his mouth to your cunt, clothed or not. one time, he cornered you in the hallway as you were putting your shoes on and pulled you down onto his face.

he’s a nasty old thing, darlin’.

[voiths]

☾ "Be a good girl and use your words" ~ Price x reader☽

Pairing: Captain Price (also the other ops kinda)x female!reader

Warnings: Nsfw Content

Word Count: 1320

Summary: This is connected to the series on tumblr "On the run" by @devil-in-hiding but can be read without knowing the series. Reader is pent up with the fleeting touches of the team members and price is there to help but being a teasing cunt while doing so.

Note: Be gentle this is the first written out nsfw oneshot i have written.

It's been around a month now since they "broke in" and showed up on your doorstep and it's safe to say they're starting to affect you.

The way ghost stares at your body whenever you work around the house.

The constant praises coming from Gaz whenever you do something for him.

The flirty jokes stringing out of Soap's mouth at every chance he gets.

But the thing that's been affecting you the most is their touches.

One of the first nights they were here the 5 of you sat in the living room watching an old rom con that you convinced(forced) them to watch. You were lying on the couch with your head in Gazs' lap and with your thighs over Simons'. Halfway through the movie you felt Gaz's hands slowly running through your hair absentmindedly.

You slowly realised just how touchstarved all the years by yourself on the farm made you. Breathing evening out and eyes slowly closing as you felt yourself slowly falling asleep only to be awoken by a hand softly falling on your thigh. Looking towards Ghost you saw no change in his behaviour, he was still looking towards the screen that lightly lit up the room. Trying your best to keep your breathing steady you felt his hand slowly go up on your upper thigh.

On one hand you wanted to stop his hand, embarrassed of the sounds you're trying your best to hold back. What would the others do if they saw?

But on the other hand your skin felt like it was burning up were Ghosts rough scarred hand met your soft thighs. You cursed yourself for only wearing shorts for the movie. The movie has been gone from your mind for some time now, mind only focused of the feeling of simons hand on hour thigh, sometimes gripping it whenever something exciting happened in the movie.

So focused on Ghost's and Gaz's touch you didnt even realise that they started look at you, seeing you lightly squirming, trying your best to stay still and make no noise. Everyone understood to keep quiet, not interrupt whatever was going on.

They only stopped once the movie was over, Simon immediately having to leave to go to the toilet and shower. He definitely had to take care of himself after that.

The others asked if you were okay, worrying about how red you were even though they all knew the reason.

Situations like this only became more frequent afterwards and your need and want for them only grew bigger the more they touched you. But asking them directly for it? No you could never. You held your pride too high for that.

But oh when one night it was just you and price, sitting on a bench on the front porch looking into the dark fields and forests in front of you. Sitting on his lap with one of his arms wrapped around your waist and the other running over your inner thigh you felt the wetness grow between your legs.

You both have been like that for at least half an hour now constantly teasing each other. Not even using words. Just you squirming on his lap "accidentally" pressing down and feeling the bulge in his pants grow.

Him running his fingers over your thigh, sometimes squeezing and every now and then getting a little higher on your skin.

But you needed him higher. You needed him closer. Needed to feel his touch more and more.

Quiet whimpers started to slip through, desperate for more. Moving around more in his lap trying more and more desperately each time to get his fingers closer to where you needed him the most.

You were so distracted you couldn't even hear him chuckle at your actions. After letting you struggle for a few more minutes he finally moves his mouth next to your ear.

"Cmon my love say what u need. Be a good girl and use ur words."

Whimpers slipping through at hearing Price's words you let your words break the silence of the quiet night.

"Touch me."

"Not good enough darling i need a bit more."

If looks could kill Price would be dead by now seeing ur death glare directed towards him. But how could he be scared by your anger when you're still pathetically squirming in his lap and whimpering like a mutt in heat.

"Please Sir touch me."

"Atta Girl."

Finally you felt his fingers teasingly move closer to your heat, moving your underwear to the side for more access you let out a whimper of relief feeling his fingers move between your folds.

You didn't even notice his other hand moving your legs apart, letting them fall on side of his legs making sure that you couldn't close yours anymore.

In a teasingly slow pace he drew circles over your clit not daring to get you close to release any time soon. As a desperate action to make him go faster you reached your own hand down but as you were about to grab his arm his other hand grabbed ur arm and pinned it to your back together with your other arm.

"Tell me if ya want me to stop or slow down but don't you dare try and pleasure yourself or try and make me go faster. I don't wanna have to punish such a good innocent little girl like you."

"No no please sir please continue i'll be good."

Chuckling at your words his hand released and moved down to your heat as well.

While one of his hands was speeding up making circles on your clit his other hand moves closer to your tight hole. Even with the fluids your body was producing his finger was struggling to get inside. When you felt the first finger going knuckle deep small moans could be heard.

"Be quiet my love or you'll wake up the others and you don't want them to see you all exposed squirming on my fingers do you."

Moans turned into quiet whimpers as you struggled to keep quiet but as soon as the second finger entered you more moans spilled from your lips.

He kept you there for what felt like an hour teasing you and bringing you so close to release but as soon as he felt you starting to shake and tighten on his fingers he stopped and took it away from you.

You were a moaning whimpering mess for him and he loved it. Loved having you shaking and squirming for him.

"Please Price i need it."

"What do you need love, tell me and address me properly."

"Please Sir make me cum."

"Good girl."

Suddenly the fingers on your clit sped up the circles it was drawing on it and those fingers inside of you curled and pressed so nicely against that spot inside of you.

"Cum for me darling."

All it took was those words and you started shaking and quivering in his lap. Eyes rolling to the back of your head while your back is arching against his chest. Price was whispering words into your ear but in your high you could only assume it was teasing words or more praise.

After letting you come down from your high and having you lean against his chest you let out a yelp of surprise when you felt him stand up. Moving you so he could pick you up bridal style he opened the door with his elbow and stepped inside.

He knew it was late at night but unfortunately that doesn't mean that everyone was asleep in the house but fortunately he managed to carry you up the stairs and into your room without anyone seeing you two.

Laying you down on your bed he handed you a bottle of water that you left on your nightstand.

"Okay little lady do you want me to stay here with you?"

[wolverinecore]

Hes so cunty

[go-go-gadget-autism]

Doctor!Reader x Price

reader is gender neutral! <3

ever since his ex divorced him, he never thought he’d be able to love another.

oh, he was heartbroken. he would always dwell on his mistakes, so he just indulged in paperwork to distract himself.

until he saw you.

a pretty little thing walking around base, dressed in a neat white coat with gently combed hair

he took one look at your sweet smile, and by god, he knew he was in trouble.

he thought he was able to hide it well, but the rest of the 141 knew immediately

i mean, they’ve been around him for years, he’s essentially their dad

every time you gave him a little glance, bloody hell did he feel like a teenager with a crush again

he would slowly start to visit you more often, and it’s not like you didn’t notice.

i mean, it would be hard to not notice him

he was only a few inches taller than you, but something about him just commanded attention.

maybe it was the way he held himself. maybe it was the way his eyes would soften when he looked at you, his face crinkling slightly as he smiled.

maybe it was the way your breath would hitch as he passed by, smelling of ash and of pine, his hand lingering for a moment too long on your shoulder.

maybe it was the way he shut your office door and locked it, approaching you from behind and coaxing his arms around your waist, breathing softly into your ear as he peppered kisses along your neck.

maybe it was the way he held onto you at night like he was afraid to lose you, wrapping you into his body and grasping you like you would disappear if he let go.

maybe it was all of those.

but as you wake up in the morning and feel a soft kiss on your temple, you knew that it just felt right.

this was where you both were meant to be.

[streetchicken]

It's been 40°C (roughly 104 in freedom numbers) the past 2 days and I don't have the energy to draw anything, so y'all are getting sadboy nikghost hours as my first attempt at a minific-

NikPriceGhost? Mostly NikGhost worried over Price :)

Trigger warning: No beta, we go down like the helo when Ghost's piloting.

It's probably early morning now. Or at least Nikolai assumes it's early morning. He hasn't had much grasp on time since providing ex-fil for 141 earlier that day, or yesterday or whenever it had been.

The mission was a bust. It wasn't anyone's fault in particular. Intel was false, the site had been armed and waiting in the dark for the two-man stealth team. It was supposed to be easy. A routine recon with Lieutenant Ghost and Captain Price leading the mission. A mission they seemed overqualified for. In and out. Like shadows in the night, gone before witnesses could even gasp a last breath.

Nik takes a long breath then dangles the cigarette between his fingers, tapping the ash into a metal bowl. The tip faintly glows, not even enough to light his fingers in the cover of dark. God it had been dark.

Nik could barely see as the two hauled into the Black Hawk. The only light provided by buttons, small screens and the pop of rifle bullets as they ricocheted off the hull. He didn't get a chance to see the state of them, focused more on maneuvering out of firing range. He thought everything would be okay. These are the two best members of Taskforce 141, unstoppable, бессмертный.

The next breath comes out shaky, curling into little puffs of frost. The city lights blinked idly, watching him, waiting for Nik to crack. The silence feels so loud. Nik slots a shaky hand over his eyes. He can still hear it.

Ghost's voiced trembled. That man never faltered. To hear him so uncertain. ебать, he nearly put the copter in a nosedive at that.

"Price was hit." Nik can still hear the echoes of it. "Nik, i's bad."

The cigarette finds it's way between Nikolai's lips again. The taste of cheap tobacco sticks to his tongue. He couldn't find his usual quality stuff when they landed at a hidden base just on the outskirts of some random city Nik couldn't care to remember the name of. In fact, he'd nicked this pack off Ghost first chance he could.

The cigarette slips from between the russian man's lips. His eyes snap up to find one of those very shadows at his side. Chist, Nik hadn't even heard Simon come out onto the balcony.

"I forget they call you the Ghost." Nik rumbles into the otherwise silent air. A face if bravado slipping on easily.

Simon scoots the custom balaclava up to the bridge of his nose. His skin basically glows under the moonlight with just how pale it is.

Like a ghost. Nik muses, realising the moniker isn't just for how silently Simon can move. "Can I have cigarettes back?"

Simon takes up the seat on the other side of the small patio sofa. He could almost curse the hotel for cheaping out on the chairs. "Can' sleep?"

Typical Simon, right to the point. Nik swallows the rock that settles in his throat. Suddenly he contemplates stealing it back from between Simon's fingers.

"John?" Simon continues, easily guessing the reason for Nik's silence.

He sighs in response and hangs his head between his shoulders. The cold does little to quell the burning behind thick black lashes.

Simon studies Nik from his perch on the seat, free arm lazily settling on the backrest behind Nikolai. The Russian's hair is pulled out from the usual slicked back look, baby curls fanning at his neck and around his ears. "Th' doc said 'e'll be olright."

"'Alright.'" Nick mimics the word, trying to dispel the images of Price so pale and lifeless in the gurney. "He was shot, Simon."

"And i' isn't the first time, Nik." Simon rebuttles in that even tone of his. Nik settles against that tone, using it to stay level. Simon finishes the thought. "And i' didn't hit anythin' vital."

The air went quiet again. Crickets and distant traffic set a gentle hum as their backdrop.

Nik opens his mouth, but struggles to find the words. They stick to his throat, ache like barbed wire. It hurt to admit what he was feeling, but if this didn't go anywhere he's afraid he'd pop.

"I can't- I can't lose him, Simon."

Simon lets the words settle in the night, allowing Nik a moment to collect his thoughts.

"He...you, I-" Nik's voice breaks. It cracks pathetically in the face of silence. His eyes burn with unshed tears. "Черт, извини."

He sits back and runs a hand over his eyes. Nik presses the pads of his fingers into his sockets in a desperate attempt at dispelling the tears. His breath is shaky, laboured. His ribs feel so small, pressing into his lungs, his heart.

Simon breath puffs out around the cigarette. He's close enough already, so his fingers find the curls at nape of Nikolai's neck. They thread through the stiffened strands then settle in the juncture where Nikolai's shoulder meets his neck. It makes Nik's body rattle with a barely-there shiver.

With a soft tug Nikolai came thudding down against Simon's shoulder, his face finding that space in the crook of the Brit's shoulder. Simon settles his hand around Nik's shoulder and adjusts to hold his weight.

And all at once Nik could find the courage to cry.

He hides his face from the city lights, keeping the tears private as they soak into Simon's shirt. There's no sound, no hiccuping, no sobs or wails. Just quiet tears and shuddery breaths.

And Simon lets him. He leans in closer, chasing off the cold and just holding Nik. He doesn't offer any words. No encouragement or soothing. Just quiet acceptance and a warm shoulder.

Suddenly the silence didn't feel so loud anymore.

[artsclxt]

Captain Price

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse-Matching Bands

Chapter 8 (Final Chapter)

PriceXFem!Reader

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

This is it! This chapter is lots of fluff, happy ending. After this is completed plan on working some more Simon things and then have an idea of returning to this, but writing it through Price's POV. Will be darker in influence than this one however. Think our Captain is a little more selfish then what this story portrays. Kind of like the other half of the coin thing.

Thank you all for taking the time and reading this series, just really wanted to do something sweet. <3 I truly do appreciate this fanbase and its readers.

Adrenaline had worn off by the time you had reached your bed. Body heavy like someone had tucked concrete into it making relief fill you by the time you had hit your pillow. After it all, you really thought sleep was going to be hard… but honestly it was the easiest that had been delivered to you all night.

In fact, when you woke up in the morning, you felt so far out of it. Honestly, you probably could have slept for another 5 hours. Finally forcing yourself to come to, you realized it was your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Quickly picking it up, you palmed it until it answered.

“Mornin’, lovie.” Your heart mended and melted at the voice.

“John.”

“How’d you sleep love?”

“Honestly… not terrible.”

“Best you have in a while, huh.” He had wanted it to sound like a question, but instead it came out as a matter-of-fact statement. You both know why you slept so well. You had no reason to fear anymore. Your biggest fear was dead.

“Yeah… How’s Abel?”

“Still sleepin’, him, Johnny and Kyle stayed up late telling ghost stories.” There was a joke hidden somewhere in there, sleep just kept it hidden from you.

“He catch any fish?” You asked instead.

“He did, learned to clean them too. Had a proper day of teaching with him.”

It made you smile. The idea of Abel spending time with a male figure that was teaching him real life lessons.

“Good.”

“I’ll have him call you when he wakes up. Think you should probably go make a cuppa’ and turn the news on for now love.” A hint. An order what had been done last night.

“Ok, see you in a while John.”

Finally doing what he advised, you sat with a cup of coffee in your hands steam still rising off the top. The remote was on the table in front of you, parallel with the TV.

It seemed so far away and the thought of picking it up to turn the TV on almost too heavy for you. Like the concrete from last night had returned all at once. A heavy breath in, you reached for it, powering it on and flipping on the news.

The very first headline BODY HAS BEEN FOUND.

Instantly, you shut your eyes, seeing the murder scene all over once again in your small bathroom. Forcing them back open, you watched. Listening intently while the newscaster explained that a male body had been found in an alleyway after what looked like a bar fight gone wrong.

The face was so mangled from a beer bottle they assumed; they were having a hard time identifying the victim. Your heart pounded so loudly, Blood trying to reach your head filling your ears, rushing like an ocean and beating like a drum. You had done this. You had destroyed any facial recognition of him… all by your hand. The thoughts came in like a flood. The father of your child. What kind of monster were you?

A loud knocking on your door brought you back, making you jump and spill coffee down the front of John’s shirt. Quickly jumping up to look through the peephole, two officers stood waiting. Like the good girl you were, you opened the door for them.

“Morning Ma’am, may we come in?” They politely asked. Giving a wide birth on the door, you obliged.

“We’re here to notify you of some news…”

Afternoon had rolled around. You sat outside waiting for their vehicle to pull up. John had kept his promise to you, and Abel had called you shortly after the officers left. After Abel had passed the phone back to your husband he asked about your visitors. Finding it strange that you had not told John about the officers stopping by yet to give you a death notification, you still told him about it.

 One of the officers had known John, his name Alex Keller, a detective for the force. Alex had called you by your maiden name, politely you corrected him and explained how you were freshly married, what your new name was and who you married.

“Have known John for a long time. Good man.”

Maybe Alex had called John to let him know he met you and what had happened…

Seemingly they asked a few questions about your personal life with your ex. How long you had known him, how you had known him. The basic stuff. News to you however, your ex had been estranged from his family for years now. He had no relationship with them whatsoever. They had tried to reach out to his parents, but they had cut him off due to behavioral problems. How ironic his own knew what kind of person he was and chose to do nothing about it. All the officers were looking for was a few answers and a place to do a proper death notification.

“Do you see it possible that he could have been in involved in a bar fight?”

“Yes,” you honestly nodded.

“Did he have anger problems?”

“Yes.”

From there you told the tale of the physical and verbal abuse from the very beginning… all the way to his untimely end.

“Well Mrs. Price, we are sorry for your loss. At this time, it is still under investigation, but it appears to us that he was involved in a bar fight. Was attacked with a beer bottle and then strangled. His wallet was left behind with his ID, but nothing else in it. It looks to be a murder and mugging. Here’s our contact if you need anything else from us.”

It seemed so routine for them, like they had expected this outcome from you already. The innocent baby momma rid of the evil that plagues her and her child. Towards the end, it was like someone had held up a seashell to your ear. You could hear the conversation… but it was like they were so far away at the same time. Shock was settling in. Thankfully it wasn’t long after that, they had left your humble abode. Pleasantries exchanged and not even a suspect on the list…  How was this possible?

And there you sat on the porch, waiting in a chair outside… Counting your lucky stars you were not placed in a jumpsuit behind bars. Still wearing the guilt all the same. Your happiness finally arriving on 4 wheels as a little boy jumped out to greet you.

“Mom!”

John had stopped to pick up dinner. Your favorite to try to cheer you up and thank you for letting him go on a trip shortly after you were married.

Finding the words finally at the dinner table, you explained to him to the best of your ability about his father passing.

Abel took it in stride. Yes, he was hurt and disturbed someone could do this his father, but he was the sweet boy you had raised after all. Abel did start asking a few questions, where John thankfully took over for you. He could tell it was hard for you to lie to Abel about what had really happened. It was something you would never ever tell him, wanting to take it to your grave now. John and his boys being the only ones who knew what had happened. Of course, none of them saw the sin in it like you did, they only saw justice. Simon, in fact telling you once that if was not you that really killed him, it was Ghost himself that had. Like it was a joke, trying to make you feel better. All it could do was place a sad smile on your lips.

“Worlds better of without him.” John had grumbled into your ear once you were both settled into bed, hand rubbing up and down your sides. That was the moment you tried to explain to John, it was not the fact that it was the man that had hurt you over and over since you were a teenager, but the fact it was a human life in general.

“Happens every day. Eventually bad behavior is answered one way or another.”

“But it makes me bad too.” You argued in a whispered hiss to him.

“No, it makes you a mother willing to defend what is hers. You really expect me to believe that you were goin’ to let him take you away from Abel and I? He paid his consequence. We could have worked it out like adults.” His hand had found your ring finger on your left-hand stroking over his mother’s band, something he seemed to do when you or he needed soothed.

Reaching for his hand, you realized it had a wedding band in return. Pulling it up out of the sheets glancing at it, knowing you had not given him one yet. It was opal on set in gold that matched yours.

“Had it made with the stone that Abel got on his field trip. The maker rushed it for me so we could match.”

“It’s pretty…” you whispered, holding it up yours. Husband and Wife finally made whole. Married for convenience for you, convenience you would ironically not need any more since your ex was dead.

It wouldn’t change anything for you though, you would pick John over and over in this lifetime and the next. He had shown you loyalty and love in a time and place no other stranger would… Except the other three of John’s that made it clear they envied their Captain that is. Who knew a group of men could care so much for a woman in dire need of it. Perhaps soldiers made the best lovers when created correctly? Who knew.

Life had changed so much in just a few years. Thinking back, you had always just pictured yourself working and slaving away at the diner. Yes, you were grateful for it, but a part of you would always want more for yourself and Abel. Here it finally was. In a new strong and sturdy house John had built for you. Working part time at the diner now, home at night with Abel and John. Sometimes John would be gone for months at a time, not always able to communicate with you either. Worry sometimes would fill your mind, but he always found his way back to you.

On one of his returns, he had given you a child. Now round with his seed, ready to pop he sat with you at the hospital. This time was entirely different. Instead of having to do it alone here John was with you. Not able to go to every appointment, he at least made the milestone ones. When worry and panic would rise within you from the pregnancy, he would quell it down. Thumb rubbing across your wedding band making you reach for his to do the same. Life was perfect. Honestly it left you confused on what exactly you had done to deserve such an outcome, but maybe if you didn’t question it, whatever greater force was out there would let you keep it.

Being thankful rewarded you with a healthy, beautiful little girl, a branch off John’s tree. Her bright blue eyes identical to his with his heavy brown locks. After all John had given you, you let him name her. A man of pattern and devotion, he named her after his mother. Sarah. So here you sat… babe bundled into a blanket in a rocking chair watching John and Abel out in the yard. No longer haunted, you were protected and loved. More importantly though, Abel and Sarah would be defended for their childhood. Something that was not provided to you or John.

Life is good.

Masterlists

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Taglist:

@cutiecusp @angeldemon28 @simplyymee98 @beebeechaos @cadotoast @talooolaaloolla @lhhlver @hon3y-cloud @spktrgantenk @generalruinsexpert @freshlemontea @hearmesingoutfromthelostandfound

[msilwrites]

The Catfish

Catfish! Reader, Depressed! Reader, Dead Inside! Reader, Maladaptive Day Dreamer! Reader, Sad! Reader, Unemployed! Reader, Shy! Reader, Morally Grey! Reader, Yandere! Price, Yandere! John Price, Obsessive, Price, Obsessive! John Price,

A/N: I’ve seen a lot of morally grey Y/N OCs out there, and I thought, why not take it further? Let’s push the limits. Let’s get into the darker side, where the lines blur and nothing’s ever as simple as it seems.

----------

Your life feels like it’s at a standstill—unemployed, or simply watching opportunities slip through your fingers, to depress, too weak, to down to go for it. Every day blurs into the next, doom-scrolling through social media, drowning in the curated lives of others, trying to ignore the quiet ache of dissatisfaction.

Books are your escape. A mix of romance and dark, Machiavellian stories fills your time, each one offering a temporary reprieve from the monotony and gloom. Instagram reels and TikToks flood your feed, booktok recommendations mixing with relationship advice, until one thought lingers—why not try a dating app? Not for love. Not even for a real date. Just for something. Attention, validation—some small proof that you still exist.

Dating isn’t new to you, nor are dating apps. But right now, you don’t have the energy to take a new picture, to present yourself in the best possible way. Instead, you pick an older photo—one with just the right lighting, the right angle, something that has an air of mystery. With a few subtle edits—smoother skin, slightly sharpened features—it becomes something almost... unreal. Perfect in a way you aren’t. Unrecognisable enough to be safe.

You swipe. Browse. And then—you see him.

John Price.

Something about him makes you pause. Maybe it’s the rough-edged charm, the mix of gruff and steady. On impulse, you swipe right. When it’s a match, you hesitate before messaging first—but when you do, the conversation flows effortlessly. You pretend to be someone else, someone confident, intriguing. And for the first time in a long time, you feel that way too.

Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months. You talk every night, each message pulling you deeper into something you can’t control. You never planned for it to last this long. Never expected to enjoy it. And then he asks—Let’s take this off the app. Let’s talk properly.

Panic coils in your chest. Giving him your number is out of the question—it would expose too much, make you traceable. Instead, you suggest a messaging app that keeps your identity hidden. He agrees. The illusion remains intact.

And still, it grows. You’re not just talking anymore. You’re something. His words make your heart race. His voice, the rare times he sends recordings, leaves you breathless. It’s intoxicating. Dangerous. Because eventually, he asks the one thing you can’t give.

Let’s meet.

Excuses become your shield. You’re busy. Traveling. Something came up. You deflect, redirect, anything to avoid the inevitable. But you can’t do this forever. And deep down, you know it.

So you end it.

A long, heartfelt message—apologies wrapped in regret, a quiet confession that you just can’t. That it was never meant to go this far. That he deserves better. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you block him. On the dating app. On the messenger. Everywhere.

Your heart aches. Not just because you liked him, but because you’ll never know what could have been. Because you destroyed something that wasn’t even real in the first place.

But what you don’t know—what you can’t know—is that John Price isn’t the kind of man who lets things go.

----------

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t have known—was that John Price wasn’t just some “government employee.”

He didn’t put specifics on his profile. No mention of his career. You assumed, based on his dry responses and the absence of bragging, that he was just another pencil-pusher, a bureaucrat with a good-looking face, one who maybe dealt with spreadsheets and red tape. Easy to dismiss. He didn’t seem like someone who could leave an impact.

But you were wrong.

John Price is SAS. Trained to track. To hunt. His mind, to never let go.

The moment you broke things off, he didn’t disappear. He didn’t move on. He didn’t even give you the satisfaction of feeling like you were in control of the situation.

John’s mind doesn’t work like yours. He doesn’t take “no” for an answer.

You thought he’d accept the closure. That you’d get away clean, hidden behind the veil of your catfishing persona. But for him, that’s just the beginning.

In your mind, you justified it all. Surely, you weren’t the only one in line. After all, he’s good-looking, charming, and probably has a queue of women eager to talk to him. He’s the type of man who can have his pick—you’re just a small fry in the grand scheme of things. You told yourself he’d forget about you, move on to someone more real, someone better. This was just a pseudo-relationship, something that never had the chance to be anything more. So why wouldn’t you end it before it got any deeper? Before you could get attached, before he could hurt you with his inevitable disinterest?

It was easier this way, right? He’d find someone else, someone who wasn’t hiding behind a heavily modified picture—unrecognizable, almost perfect—and a name no one would ever associate with the real you. You, the woman who couldn’t even look herself in the mirror anymore without feeling shame. And you—you would never have to face the sting of rejection, the disgust in his eyes, the cold way he would scold you for deceiving him.

You convinced yourself it was the safest route, the only way to keep your heart intact.

But in the back of your mind, there was always the nagging thought: What if he doesn’t forget about you?

You laugh at the thought, shaking your head as if it’s some absurd notion. As if? You mutter to yourself before closing the app, tossing your phone onto the bed. It bounces once, twice, before settling. You let out a long sigh, then close your eyes, willing yourself to relax. A nap sounds nice, maybe just for a few hours—long enough to shake off the weight of the situation.

----------

When he doesn’t hear back from you, when he notices the blocks on the dating app and the messaging app, something in him shifts. He becomes methodical, patient—like a predator picking up a fresh trail.

And he knows how to find you.

He starts with the smallest things. The little details in your conversations—the places you mentioned, the books you read, the music you listened to. He’s tracking. Not just your words, but your habits. Your likes. Your interests. Each clue that could lead him to you, like a breadcrumb trail you unknowingly left behind.

He’s not in a rush. This isn’t a chase; it’s a hunt.

The longer he watches, the clearer it becomes: You’re not just a fleeting encounter. You’re the one. The puzzle he must solve. He knows he has to get close, to get past the walls you’ve built.

And he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

----------

John began his hunt, a quiet, patient pursuit that would leave no stone unturned.

The nickname you had chosen for the dating app—so unique, so personal—was the first clue. It wasn’t just something random, he realized. It was a key to something deeper, something hidden just beneath the surface.

He traced it. The path it led him on was winding, but it was clear and deliberate. Your image, that photo you’d used, caught his eye next. He zoomed in, examining every detail. The way the light hit your face, the angle, the soft texture of the background. It wasn’t just a casual snapshot. It was deliberate, curated. There was something about it that felt... polished.

Then, his eyes locked onto it.

The Royal College of Music. The concert hall.

It was a place he recognised immediately, and for a split second, he allowed himself a small, knowing smirk. You had been there, seated in that hall. The way you looked, so poised, so perfect, in the middle of that sea of sound, it was no accident. Your friend must’ve taken the picture. But even in that moment, you seemed so out of reach, so untouchable.

But that wouldn’t stop him.

He pushed forward, searching for more. Minutes later, his screen lit up with a new discovery—a Spotify playlist. The name was the same as your nickname, and when he clicked on it, the songs flooded in. The same songs you’d mentioned in passing. Those little details you’d carelessly slipped into conversation, thinking they were nothing.

It wasn’t coincidence.

John leaned back, his pulse steady, as he took it all in. It was a breadcrumb trail, and you had unwittingly left the map for him to follow.

And then, something clicked.

The playlist. The songs. The name.

He typed it into his search bar, just to see. Just to see what else would come up.

Your LinkedIn.

His heart skipped a beat. This was it. The final piece.

John leaned forward, fingers moving rapidly as he clicked through. There you were, full name now revealed, a neat professional profile staring back at him. Every detail lined up—your job, your education, even your location.

You were closer than he thought.

He smiled to himself, leaning back in his chair, the thrill of the chase finally rushing through him.

You were no longer hiding. No longer just a name behind a pretty picture. You were real.

And now, he knew exactly who you were.

This wasn't over. Far from it.

It was just the beginning.

----------

You almost didn’t go out tonight.

It had been so easy to just sink into routine—doom-scrolling through your phone, putting off responsibilities, ignoring the world beyond your bedroom. But your friends had insisted. An orchestra performance. You always loved instrumental music. It was one of the few things that could lift your mood, transport you somewhere else.

So, you dragged yourself up and went through the long, tedious process of making yourself presentable—no, more than presentable. Polished. Together. A mask, really, but one you were good at wearing.

The skincare routine, the precise trim of your brows, the careful shaving. Contouring, blending, soft touches of highlight and color to shape the face you wanted the world to see. It was muscle memory now, an exhausting ritual that took time, patience, and just the right amount of self-delusion.

When you finally looked in the mirror, the transformation was complete.

You almost looked like her—the woman in the picture you had used on the app. The confident, successful version of yourself. Not the girl stuck in limbo, unemployed, wasting time. No one would know the difference.

And for tonight, you could pretend, too.

----------

The pub near the concert hall was quiet, barely a handful of patrons scattered across the space. You were early, too early, and your friends hadn’t arrived yet. No sense in standing outside in the cold, so you slipped inside, ordered a pint, and made your way to one of the empty booths near the back.

The first sip was soothing, grounding. You exhaled, letting yourself settle into the moment, allowing the warm buzz of the pub to wrap around you.

And then—

A shadow passed over your table.

Someone slid into the seat across from you, smooth, unhurried. Not a stranger looking for an empty spot. No, this was deliberate.

You barely had time to react before a deep, familiar voice cut through the space between you.

"Hello, Birdie."

Your blood ran cold.

John Price.

He was sitting right there, across from you, arms resting casually on the table, watching you like he had all the time in the world.

Your stomach flipped, your throat tightening. A slow, creeping dread spread through your limbs, pinning you to your seat. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t know who you are.

But he did.

And from the way his lips curled into something almost—pleased—as if he had been waiting for this moment.

For you.

A/N: Wooo!! Maybe I’ll write the next part when the inspiration hits? I’d love to hear what you guys think though! If you have any suggestions, feel free to share—I’m open to ideas! 😊

[italktoomuchxd]

"BUT PLEASEEEEE," you and Soap pleaded with pleading puppy eyes

“Alright, but just for an hour - and keep the tracker open!"

As soon as his words reached the team, everyone jumped into the Ghost’s car, Gaz on the wheel of course, in the back seat, you and Johnny bounced around, while Simon looked out the window, watching the darkness as Gaz drove to the convenience store. Price's credit card took care of the energy drinks, potato chips, and all sorts of unhealthy snacks. The seashore was the next stop. As everyone settled on the sand, laughter filled the air, and even Ghost chuckled at Johnny's spot-on imitation of people from the base.

[junocornkiwi]

a gift for a fren cuz i can :3

+ the messages

[princessdimondheart]

July 4, 2023: 

Y/N: Happy Independence Day!!! 🥳🥳

Ghost: we’re bloody Brits, we don’t celebrate your independence *rolls eyes*

Y/N: *huffs* well of course you don’t. You’re all still butt hurt that you lost the war~~~…twice…

Captain Price: …well, not so much anymore

Soap: HAHA!!! Don’t worry Bonnie, I’ll celebrate wit ya! *wraps arm around Y/N’s shoulders*

Gaz: You’ve got nothing to celebrate, mate. 

Soap: Away n’ bile yer heid!

Ghost: Speak fuckin’ English, Johnny!

Y/N: *clicking tongue* why don’t we reenact the Boston Tea Party, Johnny? *glaring at the 3 Brits*

Soap: *belly laugh* Right away, lass!!

Ghost, Captain Price, Gaz: doN’T YOU BLOODY DARE!!!

Y/N, Soap: *run off giggling*

Masterlist

[wolverinecore]

No mention of Gaz even though hes the main character since mw ‘19. Activision isnt hiding their blatant racism anymore.

These characters have over 5 skins yet Gaz only has 2 which came during launch. Im so fucking tired of this shit

[writersblockworks]

I was going to upload Friday. And then I got broken up with so I will post soon soooooo

I WANNA BITE HIS BICEPS

LOOOOK

My next partner better let me bite them

[streetchicken]

It's 3 am, it's hot, I can't sleep-

So have some domestic NikPrice inspired by a version of Stroganoff my family makes :)

No beta, we go down like my math grades

Tw: Suggestive, badly written and very indulgent vwv

"Beef liver?"

Price pulls his nose up in barely contained disgust at the little paper wrapped package haphazardly tossed onto the kitchen island. A slab of unassuming dark meat that had Price's hackles raised. "Nik, I love you t'bits, but d'you have to feed me dog food?"

It looked positively slimy and alive. So much so that the Brit could barely hold back from poking it.

"Leave the meat, Малыш. You'll ruin it." Nik swoops in, ever the knight in shining armour, and snatches the liver from Price's mitts.

"Nik, it's liver, not a baby." Price sighs in return, now leaning his hip against the counter seeing as his partner had taken his only source of entertainment. "'t's not like i'can die."

The pout Price recieves from the Russian in return is childish. He just out his lower lip, scrunches his eyebrows and cradles the organ slab gently. "Don't say that, Малыш. Liver is good, you would not hurt liver's feelings."

Price produces an indignant snorting laugh that he has to clumsily hide with a cough. His hand flies to hide his lips as he turns his eyes away from the now beaming Russian.

Nik on the other hand? He can't be more pleased that he got the captain to laugh like that. He looks like a dog with a bone while he sets the liver aside.

"Ah, you laugh. I win." He proudly declares, picking up an onion to start peeling.

"Ya didn' win squat." Price tries to counter while he reaches for the peeler and a potato. Nik allows him to help.

"I won a laugh."

"Wot has that got ta do wit' winnin'?"

"Your laugh, Малыш."

Well Price had nothing to say against that. He's much too flustered now, flushed from the chops to his ears. "Touché."

Nik huffs a breath at the little victory, adjusting the halved onion on the cutting board and dicing it.

It's days like these that keep Nik sober. Without them, and Price, he swears he'd be condemned to the bottle by now. Drinking away whatever demons stalked his bedroom shadows. To think there had been a time when he lacked the gentle quiet. When he'd lived off blood, gunpowder and caffeine. When he only ever slowed down to enjoy some foreign meal or company. To think he was content to settle for it.

Nik takes a deep breath, focusing on the rhythmic tap of tbe blade against the chopping board. To his left, Price's breathing and the sound of potatoes being peeled, to his right, a well loved Bluetooth speaker mulling the tunes of some 80s song Price had insisted on.

The onions are swooped into the pot with some oil and garlic. "This stew is from my childhood."

"O'yeah?"

"Da. One of the few happy memories I was allowed."

Price's tongue sits thickly against the roof of his mouth at Nikolai's confession. Blue eyes settle on the russian's back. The white cotton seems so innocently bright in the soft canter of afternoon sunlight.

"D'you...miss 'em?" Price asks. His words are soft, delicate, almost swallowed by a tune in the music. "Th'good days, I mean."

"Nyet." Nik answers truthfully. "They were...still cold."

Another beat. The silence is thick. Price looks down at the half peeled potato in his hands instead of his partner's back. Finally he decides to continue.

"Fokin' 'ell, Nik. Not in front of th' liver." Price groans, peeling the last bits of skin from the potato.

The notion earns his a barely there snort from Nik, but an amused sound nonetheless. Nik turns, plucks up the potato and leaves Price with a peck against his temple and a soft smile.

Price smiles himself, watching Nikolai work on the stew. He admires how focused Nik is on feeding him, it's a lovely change of pace from field rations and the bland slop they usually get on base. Price might be feeling a little spoilt.

"Onions, aromatics, vegetables, meat, broth. Da, that should be all for now." Nik mutters to himself and turns to face his partner and offers a hand. He bends down a little with one of his mischievously charming smiles that highlight the crinkle around his eyes. "Which gives us some time."

"Flirt." Price rumbles in return, feeling heat on his cheeks as his hand slips into Nikolai's.

Price is pulled up against a firm chest, his hand finding Nik's shoulder while the latter's free hand settles warmly against the small of his back. God Price could barely keep a shiver down.

Nik pulls him into a little sway and jig. Despite his bulk and the small space of the flat's kitchen, Nikolai still manages to maneuver them to the beat of Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the dark".

They bounce to the beat, Price mouthing the words as they go along. Nik shifts them away from the stove as they mingle in the light of the waning afternoon sun. They nearly trip over the striped rug tossed between the stove and the sink.

Price follows along. Nik's a better dancer than him anyway, he'd glad to let his partner lead as Price swears he has two left feet no matter the song era. "Y're good a'this!"

"Da, had some practice. Lots of fun clubs in Berlin." Nik muses. His fingers toy with the hem of Price's t-shirt where they've settled at the bottom of the Brit's spine. "Though, not the only thing those clubs taught me."

"Cheeky git-" Price snorts.

Price rolls his eyes and sets a foot between Nik's own and pushes. He maneuvers the man till his back settles against a countertop and Price could worm his hands to plant on said counter top on either side of Nik's waist. "Don't s'ppose ya could back those claims, Sergeant?"

Nik's breath hitches at his old rank. He's left those days behind him when he denounced his position in the Soviet army, but to hear it come from the man he reapects so much?

"I make arrangements, da." He swallows hard, throat suddenly dry. Nik is suddenly hyper-aware of that muscular thigh pressed between his legs.

"Ah, now would ya look at that." Price muses. "Haven't seen ya that red since that night in the Black Hawk."

"Can't blame a man, can you? Not when he's at his Captain's mercy." God the flirting wouldn't work now, Nik's already lost the upper hand. He braces his hands on Price's forearms, desperate to feel the flex of muscle under skin.

"Is that so?" Price coos, his voice dropping to that low gravel that has Nikolai dizzy. His baby blues flick appreciatively over the man's neck.

Unable to resist, lips press firmly to the hollow of Nik's neck. Soft, demanding, they trail little embers up to the pulse. Nick swallows, he can feel his heart gallop in his chest and stick in his throat.

"You seem a tad nervous, luv." Price taunts. His hands slip from the counter to find the curve of Nikolai's hips. His thigh presses forwards and up.

"Nyet, not nervous." Nik gasps. The square if gis shoulders falter with the full body shiver. Price's lips are impossibly warm as they find the edge of Nik's jaw. It has him closing his eyes to stop the world, Price, from spinning. Jus'...I...John."

"Yeah?" Price muses, smiling where he's inches from Nik's face.

Fuck, Nik can feel it. Feel him. Smell him. Him and his Yardley English Blazer cologne. "Малыш- need. I need- John, please-"

Oh Price likes when Nik asks so softly.

Lips meet lips in a soft embrace. Almost like the casual atmosphere has the kiss lazy and easy. They barely notice the first cords of "Careless Whisper" strum over the speaker. But it isn't long before Nik's hands find the front of Price's shirt hem. Or until Price had his fingers securely tucked into the curls at Nikolai's nape.

The leverage lets Price press Nik fowards. He forces a soft sound between Nik's lips. The heat of his tongue finds the other's. He presses to overwhelm. His free hand dips below the elastic of Nik's sweats to find the fat at the man's hip.

The sound is soft, barely audible. A breathy little gasp that has Price scrambling to lift roughly 100 kilograms of Russian muscle onto the counter. Their lips part, but Price eagerly liberates Nik of his shirt so he could trail heated kisses from his throat to his sternum.

"John-" Nik starts, getting cut off by his own breather groan as he's palmed through his sweats.

Price could feel the heat pool between Nik's legs as he slots his hips to fit perfectly between the man's thighs. He nuzzles his nose to the black curls that adorn Nik's chest and lets himself just exist like that for a moment. He admires how sunlight glints over silver scars and the carpet on Nik's chest, admires the colour adorning Nik's cheeks and shoulders. His head is fuzzy with the feel of Nik against him, his partner shuddering with his arousal pressed to Price's palm. Intoxicating. Addictive even.

Nik threads his fingers through the messy brown locks.

Price continues his trail of kisses. They follow the contours of Nik's abdomen. Down to his navel. Gently down the trail of dark curls. His teeth hook the elastic of Nik's grey sweats. The man practically whimpers at the display.

Until he's not and Price is shoved back in Nik's panic to get to the stove. Price sighs and runs a hand over his face.

"New low f'me-" he groans "-gettin' cock blocked by a bloody stew."

Nik only offers him a shrug as he adds some cream, turns off the heat and places the lid back on. That's when he turns and Price's tongue goes lax at the sunlight framing Nikolai's face in dark curls and a soft glow.

"Well-" Nik coos, stalking closer to his partner "-it is done. I am certain it would be...some time before it is cool enough to eat."

Price suddenly feels very claustrophobic with his back against a counter and Nik's dark eyes so intently on him.

"I never minded cold stew anyway."