#Captain Price x reader
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Buttermilk
It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au
Part 1 | masterlist
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âIâm not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,â he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. âIâve got a busy schedule and his mom isnât in the picture. I need a real commitment.â
You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is youâre doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; youâre somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position.Â
Yet, it seems like thatâs what heâs looking for, based on the information heâs told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a messâtoys strewn across the babyâs bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that itâs become something of a requiem to single fatherhood.Â
âSo, a nanny?â you ask.
He hems and haws over that for a bit. âBit too fancy for my tastes, but thatâs more like it. It wonât just be watching the babyâI need someone who can help out around the house as well. âUsed to run a tight ship before him, but cleaningâs not been my highest priority these days. Sure youâve picked up on that.â He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache.Â
âWellâŚâ You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish.Â
âI work odd hours, so Iâll be gone a lot; youâll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think thatâs something you can handle?â
A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. Itâs not that you donât think you could handle the job. Youâve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income.Â
âYouâre military, you said?â you croak out instead.
He nods, hums. âBit of a glorified desk job these days. They donât put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.â
You frown at that. âYouâre not that old.â
That gets him to cock an eyebrow. âLove, Iâm over twice your age, easy. Iâm plenty old for a first time father on top of that; shouldâve already been an old hand at this, but Iâve been married to the job for too long.â
You donât ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. Itâs none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. Itâs just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air.Â
âWell, I thinkââ You chew on your words and then backtrack. ââI can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I canââ
âNo need,â he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. âIâm a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and Iâll go over my schedule this week with you.â
The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. Youâd put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, youâre still forced to look up at him.Â
âSure can, MisterâŚâ?â You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that heâs about to become your boss. Already is your boss.Â
âPrice. But John works just fine,â he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic.Â
You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt.Â
âWell, thanks for the job, John,â you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. âI wonât let you down.â
âI know you wonât, sweetheart.â
His words seem like a bellwether for something that you canât yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you.Â
You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.
Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance.Â
You donât know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friendâs dadâs coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.
âDid you hear the Captainâs looking for a babysitter?â
âFor what? To bang?â
âNo, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.â
âNo kidding. The Captain?â
âDidnât I just fuckinâ say that?â
âPrice, you mean? Captain Price?â
âAre you fuckinâ deaf? YeahâPrice.â
âChrist. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.â
âGive it a rest, it happens all the time. Thatâs why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone thatâd be up for it?â
And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities donât knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. Itâs more than you expected. More than you deserve, if youâre being honest. Youâre retroactively grateful that he didnât ask you to name your rate because you wouldnât have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.
Itâs a straightforward gig. John doesnât work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. Heâs only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job.Â
You know better than to put up a fuss. Youâre already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. Youâre learning all sorts of things these days.
To your credit, he couldâve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. Itâs a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before youâve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but itâs worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.
Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysittingâor rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not haveâmight not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so youâll be ready bright and early the next morning.
Babies also smell better than anything youâve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guyâs head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When heâs cradled in your arms, you canât help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. Itâs some good shit.Â
You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John mightâve otherwise missed.Â
âHe started babbling today,â you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You havenât felt this excited in ages. âLook.âÂ
Heâs still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him.Â
âSee?â you gush, mooning over him. You donât have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment.Â
âYeah,â John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. âAinât that something.â
If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you donât pick up on it.
On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, heâs remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesnât nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesnât scold you the day your car breaks down and youâre forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that heâs invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.
He shrugs when you bring it up. âItâs got a lifetime warranty anyway. Iâll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.â
Unflappable. Thatâs the word for it. Itâs like as long as heâs able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you donât feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone.Â
Your only qualmâand itâs hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observationâis that John is more of a physical person than you are.Â
When he wants to move you, he doesâtwo big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you.Â
You donât hold it against him though. You havenât spent much time around groups of men, but youâve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, heâs gentle with you.Â
Itâs just thatâand again, Johnâs the first adult man youâve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopicâyouâre not completely sure whether itâs appropriate for your boss to be so touchy.Â
You don���t mean to insinuate that heâs being inappropriate. Itâs just thatâand again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and heâs done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, butâŚâsometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesnât take no for an answer.
Youâre never in any rush to leave. Thereâs not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. Itâs nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what itâs like to go hungry.
Maybe thatâs why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. Youâre subconsciously mortified that youâll eat his food when heâs not gone but not when he offers it to you.
At least dinner feels like something youâve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking.Â
Not to mention youâve developed something of a rapport. Thereâs always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (âback when you werenât even a thought in your mumâs head,â he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations).Â
The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like youâve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, theyâre the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, youâre estranged from your family and youâve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too.Â
Then thereâs the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.
âGo put something on,â John tells you, a warning look in his eye. âDonât make me repeat myself.â
âSorry,â you whisper before slipping off into the living room.
You canât relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadnât even heard him coming; heâs light on his feet for such a big man.Â
The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that youâre afraid youâll buzz right out of your skin.Â
For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.
Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap.Â
Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs untilâ
You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind.Â
âSleep well?â John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before youâve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams.Â
âNot bad,â you squeak.Â
You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.
As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.
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dubcon, objectification, forced (?) threesome, f!reader
they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.
ghost finds you ten months after your divorce, nursing a drink in a shithole of a pub. he doesnât consider himself a good man, licking the tears on your cheeks when he fucks you for the first time, ignoring your whines of how âitâs been a whileâ and youâre âtoo tight.â he doesnât like to keep birds around longer than a night, but something about how you wrap your leg around him in the morning makes him stay a little longer.
he lets you call him simon after you whine that you âcanât fuck him without knowing his name.â it takes a bit, but you get used to sleeping with someone who isnât your ex-husband. he calls you bird instead of sweetheart, love instead of darling and after a while, the word honey loses its significance. when simon tells you heâs military, you try to leave his bed, only for him to pull you by the thigh, apologizing with his tongue in your cunt. simon doesnât date and you arenât ready for it, content to stay in your respective apartments, living for his occasional half-smiles and usual gruff admonishments. its a bit new to simon - heâs used his camera app more in the past weeks than he has in years. always pictures of you: his cum on your tits, the bruises he leaves on your hips, a rare photo of you sleeping. he even lets you corral him into taking a cheesy mirror picture, his arms dwarfing your waist with his face tucked into your neck, your jawline exposed as you turn to kiss his cheek.
itâs two months later when you promise to cook him a meal for the first time, a sunday roast he hasnât tasted in years. âbetter not take too long, bird, âm starvinâ.â simon murmurs in your ear, hands squeezing your stomach and waist as you fumble with your keys. âiâve had it slow cooking before i left for yours last night. itâll put us in a food coma.â you finally put the key in the lock, turning it with force before simon decides to fuck you against the door. he dips to bite your neck, sending you into your apartment giggling, swatting him off you. the weight of your divorce is finally off your shoulders, happy butterflies fluttering in your stomach formed by simonâs continuous presence.
the butterflies die when you see a familiar pair of boots at your door.
âstay here.â you order simon, a change from your usual dynamic. you canât focus on his reaction, set on edge by the sounds of pots clanging in your kitchen. thereâs no point in creeping - he knows youâre here. you turn the corner and there he is - your ex husband. âyouâre just in time, sweetheart. nice âf you to make a roast.â
johnâs standing there like he owns the place, like he knows this kitchen heâs never been in. heâs boiling potatoes on the stove, keeping an eye on the slow cooker timer. heâs even poured himself a fucking drink, a scotch he had to have brought since all you have is wine and simonâs whiskey. all smug and entitled in his civvies, commanding the room like he pays your rent. he's still as handsome as ever, darker eye bags the only indication he's been losing sleep.
âwhat the fuck are you doing here, john?â john doesnât answer immediately, instead using a fork to test the potatoes. satisfied, he takes them off the burner and turns to the sink, dumping them out in a prepared strainer. ââs our anniversary, sweetheart. thought thatâs why you made the food.â you can sense simon still in the doorway, his presence unknown to your ex. it gives you strength, a guard dog at your back, and comfort that heâs letting you run this on your own. âour anniversary ended when we signed the papers. i donât know how you got in here, but you need to leave.â he frowns at you and it almost tugs at your heart strings. your brain conjures images of his coldness and constant distance, and you shut that down real fast. unfortunately, he doesnât get the memo. john takes a step closer, hands up like heâs approaching a wild animal. âhoney, i-â and thatâs when ghost steps out of the darkness.
thereâs a long pause. it boosts your ego a bit, showing john youâve moved on, until the silence is so long that you start to worry. you chance a look at simonâs face and find it confused, not at all the guard dog you thought he was. a glance at johnâs reveals the same. youâre about to ask your question when they answer it for you. âcaptain.â âlieutenant.â âwhat?â
the transformation happens in an instant. both men straighten to their full heights, wiping any emotion off their faces. their brows furrow as they flex their hands to control their instincts. how could you not see it before? simon only mentioned he was military, but the stamp of the SAS is clear as day. it was in the harsh lines he carried, a companionship with death, not unlike the one john had.
john started first, of course, always having to take control of the situation. âyou fuckinâ my lieutenant, sweetheart? miss me that much?â you rolled your eyes at his cruel words, inching closer to simon. âwhatever we do doesnât concern you.â you emphasized the âyouâ, spitting it out with venom. john hums low, making you nervous. you turn to simon, but he's quiet and calculating, communicating silently with his captain.
"didn't know you had a wife, sir." you answer before john can. "we divorced a year ago." john chimes in. "to the day, actually. she served me on our anniversary." simon looks down at you, the man you thought you knew now gone. his eyes are black pits, targeting you like you're prey. "that's cruel, bird." you sputter, backing into the kitchen cabinets. you walk until your back hits the sink, each man on either side of you. john has his arms crossed and head cocked to the side, like you're about to get chewed out by the school principal. simon looks...no longer human. unrestrained. whatever spark you two had has gone out, replaced by sheer loyalty to his captain. "show the captain what he's been missin', love. y've been starvin' him." he moves at lightning speed, picking you up and dropping you on the island counter, sunday roast long forgotten.
"simon?" he doesn't answer, scarred hands squeezing up and down your body as john watches from behind him, arms crossed and eyes searching. your mind is telling you one thing but your body wants another. some twisted part of your brain reminds you that john came to visit on your anniversary, even though you threw him out a year ago. simon's no better, coaxing your sweater off your torso, leaving you exposed in a lacy bra. your nipples harden and john sees, making a clicking noise with his tongue. "warm 'er up, lieutenant." simon obeys instantly, pulling down the cup of your bra to suck on your nipple. he's ravenous, no sunday roast in sight, and he's decided you're his meal instead. he sucks hard, a calloused hand reaching up to pull your other tit out so you're fully exposed to your two men. he squeezes it with reverence, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucks hard on the other one, not minding his own teeth.
it's dirty - watching john watch you. you hadn't fucked in the last months before the divorce. he was always too busy, on base or deployed, and you were so angry you couldn't let him near you. now, your ex-husband moves closer, taking in the sight of his lieutenant feasting. "miss me, sweetheart?" you shake your head on instinct. he sighs at your attitude. you're seated on the corner of the island, perfect for john to come up on your side, one large paw making its way towards your jaw, turning you towards him. "say it." you shake your head again. john sticks a thumb into your mouth, pushing against your teeth. you try to force him out, but simon bites your tit, making you gasp and let john in anyways. you suck his thumb defiantly, gazing at him with all the emotions you can't convey.
you look so pretty like this, john decides. laid out for his lieutenant, taking his orders as well as your emotions will allow. he decides to forgive you for your indiscretions with ghost - at least it was with one of his own men. they're practically an extension of himself. john hooks his thumb into the gap between your tongue and teeth and pulls, forcing you right into his space. "i reckon your cunt's nice an' wet, though. should i check? know she's missed me even if you won't admit it." your eyes go wide, giving him an answer he already knew. simon follows orders well, manhandling you into position by yanking off your jeans. there's a wet spot on the light fabric of your underwear. john can practically see your cunt clinging to it, begging for him to say hello.
"want ya to take 'em off y'self, bird." simon's finally speaking, the glaze in his eyes fading. he looks at you, then his captain, and it makes sense. how you're used to being led but refuse it all the same. how you're desperate for affection but won't date him because he's military. you're scarred from the chains of your marriage, so it only makes sense that he's the one you seek out - the opposite of husband material. more dog than human on his worst days. simon stares at you until you follow his command, meekly lifting up your hips as you take off your underwear. your cunt is sopping, in a way it only does when youâre ovulating, practically begging for it. your ex-husband whistles through his teeth like heâs praising a recruit. âknew sheâd be happy to see me. hullo, darling.â you canât find it in you to cringe. john starts running his fingers through your folds, inspecting, and all you can do is stare. stare at the veins in his forearm. stare at simon behind him, eyes trained on his captainâs movements. stare at the counter where your juices start to gather and wonder how the hell you got into this situation.
âpinch âer tit anâ watch âer flutter.â simonâs callous with his instructions but john follows them anyway, his unoccupied hand reaching up to pinch your nipple. you canât help the gasp that escapes you, the way your cunt flutters around johnâs fingers. he hums thoughtfully. john decides youâve been good, if not a bit quiet, and presses his thumb against your clit as a reward. he starts rubbing in that pattern that would get you off without fail during your marriage. he fits one finger into you easily as you grip the counter hard, the sudden sensation overwhelming. simon peers over his shoulder like a fucking scientist. ââf she gets bratty, i pull back the hood til she screams.â like your cuntâs a machine and they have the two pieces of its manual. johnâs movements are making you desperate, hips starting to buck against his fingers. he chuckles and adds another, not hiding a smile when you sigh in relief. simonâs hands come to your waist, helping you fuck yourself on priceâs fingers. it feels so wrong, having them barely listen to your pleas, and yet being under their watch is the most right youâve ever felt in your life. thatâs what brings your orgasm - not johnâs thick fingers on your cunt, his rough thumb in your clit - but two sets of hungry eyes on you, like youâre their last meal. john fucks you through your orgasm, simon not letting you out of his grasp until tears start to form, the embarrassment of your own wetness coming to the front of your mind. john slowly removes his fingers and brings them to simonâs mouth to taste, not satisfied until his lieutenant hums in agreement. the two men turn to you, naked save for your disheveled bra around your waist, somehow making the scene more depraved.
ââow âbout that roast, love?â simon murmurs gruffly.
good thing john never signed the divorce papers.
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Young Lt!Price coming home to his sweet wife đ§ââď¸ (đ˝ link)
He is so utterly devoted to you and absolutely famished without you. Heâs surprised that he went months without touching you, tasting you, teasing you. Not to mention the fact you both couldnât even savour your honeymoon moment with John having been called for a mission in god-knows-where doing god-knows-what leaves you both sexy, frustrated and desperate for one another.Â
Often finding himself buried between your legs, he shoves his nose into your wet cunt as he inhaled the scent of your pussy, committing it to memory for his next deployment. Nudging his nose ever so slightly smearing your slick onto the tip of his nose.Â
Maybe Iâll take a panty or two of hers to keep me company. John thinks to himself.
The thought of resorting to sniffing your dirty slick smeared panties while he jerks pathetically at night makes his cock drip in anticipation.Â
Spreading your folds with his fingers, licking a long stripe from your sopping cunt up to your clit giving it a small flick. Eyes darkening as he sees the juices seeping out of your hole. John groans at the heavenly sight, pushing his index and middle finger in curling against your gummy walls as you mewl at his ministrations.Â
âLooks like she missed me, eh?â He murmurs, pumping his fingers in and out of you coating the digits with your sweetness.Â
âSo much⌠she missed you so- so muchâŚâ You reply breathy and drunk with lust-filled anticipation.Â
John chuckles at your desperate admission giving your clit a chaste kiss.Â
âWell then. I guess I need to spoil this sweet girl rotten tonight, hm?â
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STIP THIS IS FUCKING HILARIOUS ESP JOHNNY AND SIMON đđđđđđ
Most desperate things the 141 boys have done for sex because I can't stop thinking about it <3
John's begged for it. I mean on his hands and knees begging for a taste. I know this man is an avid pussy pronoun user too. He has been on his knees in front of you as you sit pretty on his couch, trailing kisses up your soft belly to your tits and then back down to your thighs.
"C'mon sweet girl lemme' 'ave a taste of 'er yeah? Know she fuckin' needs me hm? Just look at tha'" as he runs a thumb of the wetness that's seeped through you thin panties, just waiting for you to say the words and let him tear them off.
He knows if anybody else in the 141 or if any of his fellow soldiers could see him now, the Captain Price practically drooling over you and sweet talking your cunt like it could hear him they would have a fit. But he couldn't care less because you looked so fucking good right now so "just let 'er 'ave what she wants alright sweet thing?"
I just know Kyle has spent 70% of his last month's pay check on hotel room because the 5 star pent house suite was the only hotel room in your area left available during the holidays. He played it cool with an arm around your waist assuring you it was fine, acting like this was the room he wanted to get, not the one he was forced to have. But if he was being forced to do anything thank god it was spoiling you.
"Don't worry 'bout it love. Just make 'urself comfortable" He'll say in a sultry sweet tone, planting kisses up the side of your neck before excusing himself to the lavish bathroom to check his bank account. He had to make sure he still had enough to buy you a nice breakfast in the morning.
And you're already layed out so pretty for him on the bed so he's not complaining about anything. Especially not the mirror situated on the ceiling right above the bed. Oh and don't you dare suggest splitting the cost, "just split your legs for me hun, 's all ya need to do"
Johnny is eager, like so so eager. When a passionate make out session on your couch got even more heated than either of you had previously expected and he now had his fingers playing with the waistband of your skirt, letting his cold finger tips splay themselves just below. When he got to the hem of your panties and began to hook a finger into the lace you had to stop him,
"Johnny"
"Yea?" He was breathless, chasing your lips when you pulled away to talk. You almost felt bad for separating but if he was going to touch you, there was one request you needed to make. You had felt his nails drag across your thighs moments earlier, it felt wonderful but they were...a little long.
"Do ya nae want this hen?" He'd ask, looking at you like you were a piece of art. Pleading with his eyes, shining like they'd spill tears if you said yes.
"No, no I want this, I want you so so much. It's just..." you trailed off
"Tell me what's wrong bonnie and I'll fix it, yeah?" his hands kept you grounded to his lap either a soft grip on you ass.
"It's just- you're nails, they're a little long" your request was nothing more than whisper.
'Oh' Johnny knew he probably should have just asked for clippers, but you felt so damn good on his lap. He could feel your warm cunt through the zipper of his jeans and with your tits brushing against his chest he couldn't bring himself to move.
You watched in shock as he just began to just tear his nails off with his teeth. Without a second thought his pointer and middle finger nails were bit off to the skin. He paused and looked at his right hand before ripping off the index finger as well.
"Johnny what's gotten into you-?"
But he's already got his hands back down your skirt. Soft finger tips slipping between your folds. "Feel better now eh?" And when you just nuzzled your nose into his neck and let out a little whimper he chuckled "I'll take tha' as a yes"
Simon swallows his pride for the first time in his life for a chance at hitting it raw. You tell him it's okay to not use protection, that you're on birth control. But you needed to make sure that he didn't have any stds seeing as they're even more of a pain when you're on birth control. Not that you don't trust him you just want to make sure and it's not a problem for him seeing as he has to get tested every other week being in the military.
He doesn't, however, have his records on him at the moment and with a girl already lying in his bed telling him he can cum inside. Plus a raging hard on, he doesn't exactly feel like running back to base to get the paper work. So...next best thing.
"Price-"
"Rare for ya to call on leave Simon, whatchya need?" Price responds, his voice cracking through the face time call, a cigar dangling from his lips.
"Sir I need..." he looks back at you, your eyes expectant and shining. You wanted him and he wasn't going to fuck this up. "Can you send me a picture of my last med check results?" He rushes out the last part, elbow on his knee and hand dragging over his face.
Price quirks one eyebrow but doesn't look like he's going to ask any questions. Unlucky for Simon though, Johnny was also in the room. His voice distantly coming through the phone,
"The feck ya need those for l.t.?" He questioned
Simon just groaned, soap's addition to this call just made it even more frustrating. But he snapped out of his frustration at the sound of price opening his file cabinet. "What part?" Price asked, dismissing Johnny with a wave of his hand.
"The-" Simon began, this was fucking embarrassing but when he looked back to you, now perched on your hands and knees, the plush of you hips resting on your ankles, he'd do anything at this point. "STD results." He responded plainly.
"Aye! No fuckin' way mate!" The sound of a chair scraping the floor could be heard as Johnny began to clammer over to his captain who pulled the sheet from his files.
"Ya didn't tell me he was in the room" Simon growled
"Ya didn't ask" Price droned
Johnny's head popped into frame "show me what she looks like ey l.t?"
"Not happening" Simon deadpanned
"Aw c'monnnn" The sergeant whined "just proud of you for finally getting some action!"
"Enough." Simon could see you biting your lip to stifle a laugh out of the corner of his eyes, a curious look in your eyes at his reddened face.
"Sent a picture to ya Simon" Price huffed, letting Johnny give him one last "good luck!" Before hanging up the phone.
You were a mess of giggles as he just shook his head and shoved the phone results in your face for you to look at. "See. Clean."
"Okay okay" you giggled, finally letting his form eclipse you back onto the pillows
"Went through a hell of a lot of trouble for ya, sweet girl" he whispered, nipping at the shell of your ear.
"I'll make it worth it" you said, kissing the corner of his lip and tangling your fingers in the back of his hair
"Christ woman" he groaned, feeling his cock twitch at your promise, "gunna' be the death a' me"
#johnny mactavish x reader#simon riley x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#kyle garrick x reader#cod x reader
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Protege!Gaz taking CEO!Price's assistant to dinner after a long week, plying you with the magic words: "this company would fall apart without you." Commiserating with you about Price, letting you talk his ear off about his mentor. You're so used to the way Price eyes your chest that you miss the way Gaz's eyes linger on your ass every time you get up to grab a drink, or the fact that he isn't really joining in on your trashing Price, or the fact that his compliments are just shy of polite...
You don't miss the way he smiles when he snaps a picture of you to send to Price, or the way he coos that you looked "so pretty leaned over the bar" he just couldn't help it. And don't worry about all those nasty things you said about Price, it'll be just between the two of you(and the recording on his phone, "accidentally" sent to Price in the morning so he can choke his cock to the way you spit his name).
#cod x reader#x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#gaz cod#gaz call of duty#if you need a charmer its Gaz#mr. âplease let me do war crimesâ#captain price x reader#captain john price#ceo!price#assistant!reader
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imagine captain price who has to work overtime at the office doing paperwork but at least he has you, sat snugly on his lap clenching around him so tightly, he gives you a couple kisses along your neck and tells you he'll be done in a little
at this point it's been about two hours of him signing and checking files and you really needed him, rolling your hips on his laps every now and then to give him hints but every time he just tightly gripped your hip and told you to "sit still f'me darlin'"
it was getting so hard to stay sane when you had his thick cock planted inside you so well, you could see it bulging in your tummy a little bit, and him giving you kisses made it no better, only getting you needier and needier until you were whimpering for him to do anything to you
so look at you looking all pretty bent over his desk taking his fat cock to the hilt, pumping load after load into your tight hole, covering you in hickeys and marks and railing you until you were to fucked out to even think
price sitting you back on his lap and getting back to his work, giving you kisses to make sure you're still okay
#captain john price#john price x reader#john price x male reader#x male reader#x male y/n#gay smut#x male smut#x male#gay#male reader#bottom male reader#john price#john price smut#captain price#price cod#captain johnathan price#captain price x reader#captain price x you#captain price smut#captain price x y/n#cod john price
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A Kingdom of Shadows and Steel
Paring: Poly 141 x Reader
AU: (Medival) Knights!141 x Healer!Reader
Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of injuries, boys assist in training their healer
Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, i might make a story about this-
Word Count: 1.3k
Masterlist
MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+
The wind carried the scent of blood and smoke as you knelt in the ruins of the battlefield. Around you, the cries of the wounded echoedâsome fading into silence as life slipped away, others clawing at the edge of survival. Your hands worked quickly, trembling but steady, weaving threads of healing magic into a soldierâs mangled leg. The golden glow of your power barely illuminated the grotesque wound, but slowly, the torn flesh began to knit itself back together.
âGet out of here,â you urged, your voice strained but firm. âBefore they come back.â
The soldier nodded weakly, dragging himself toward the treeline where others had fled. You sat back on your heels, every ounce of strength drained. Magic always demanded more than you were prepared to give, and this battlefieldâa wasteland of broken bodies and charred earthâhad swallowed your reserves hours ago.
The sharp crunch of boots on gravel snapped you out of your haze. Your head jerked up, instinctively raising a hand as though you could muster another spell. A shadow loomed over you, taller and broader than anyone youâd encountered today.
âYouâre braver than you look,â a low, accented voice drawled.
You blinked, your vision sharpening. A man clad in battered black armor stood before you, a half-mask obscuring the lower half of his face. His eyes, sharp and dark, studied you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.
Behind him stood three others, equally imposing: a grizzled, blue-eyed man who carried himself with the weight of leadership; a younger soldier with a cheeky grin, his messy hair barely kept in check; and a man whose presence was like a shadowâsilent, his face hidden behind a skull-like mask.
âI wasnât aware the crown hired mages,â the grizzled manâCaptain John Price, you realizedâremarked, his arms crossed.
âThey donât,â you replied, struggling to your feet. âIâm not with the crown.â
The masked one, who had yet to speak, tilted his head slightly, his gaze pinning you in place. âThen what are you doing on *our* battlefield?â
You met his stare, unwilling to back down. âSaving lives, since you lot canât seem to stop spilling blood.â
The younger manâSoap, if you remembered correctlyâbarked a laugh. âSheâs got fire, eh? I like her already.â
Priceâs gaze didnât waver. âWeâll see.â
They didnât leave you behind. Despite your protestsâand your insistence that you could take care of yourselfâthey decided it was too dangerous for a lone healer to wander war-torn lands. Price gave the order, and that was that.
At first, their presence was overwhelming. They moved like a unit, each man fitting into the group like a piece of a puzzle. Ghostâs quiet intensity was unnerving; you often caught him watching you, his gaze unreadable. Price was distant but protective, a commanding figure who seemed to expect competence from everyoneâincluding you. Soap, with his endless jokes and easy grin, was the only one who made an effort to pull you out of your shell. And then there was Gaz, whose sharp wit and subtle kindness chipped away at your defenses before you even realized it.
The days blurred together as you traveled. The landscape was a patchwork of desolation: burned villages, abandoned farmlands, and the occasional stretch of wilderness untouched by war. At night, the group set up camp in silence, each man falling into a routine as practiced as it was efficient.
You, however, struggled to find your place. Healing was all you knew, and while they respected your skill, you felt like an outsider. That began to change one cold evening when Soap handed you a dagger.
âYouâre good with magic,â he said, twirling his own blade between his fingers, âbut magic wonât save you when someoneâs got steel to your throat.â
You hesitated before taking the weapon. âI donât know how to use this.â
âThatâs what Iâm here for.â He grinned, positioning himself behind you. His hands covered yours as he adjusted your grip and stance.
âRelax,â he murmured. âYouâre too stiff. Itâs just me.â
His touch was firm but careful, his teasing tone oddly comforting. By the time the lesson ended, you were breathlessânot from exertion, but from the way his laughter warmed the cold night air.
Over the following weeks, the 141 began to feel less like an obligation and more like a team. Price often joined you during quiet moments, his gruff voice softening as he asked about your past. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and though he rarely spoke about himself, the glimpses he gave you felt like pieces of a puzzle you were eager to solve.
âYouâve got the heart of a soldier,â he said one night, his eyes steady on yours. âEven if you donât see it.â
The words lingered, wrapping around your heart like a shield.
Gaz, meanwhile, became your confidant. His sharp humor and easygoing nature made it impossible not to let your guard down. One evening, as you stitched up a tear in his tunic, he regaled you with tales of his childhood.
âGot myself stuck in a tree once,â he admitted, grinning. âHad to be rescued by my little sister. Never lived it down.â
You laughed, shaking your head. âI canât imagine you needing rescuing.â
âWell, we all need rescuing sometimes,â he said, his tone suddenly serious. âEven you.â
You looked away, his words striking a nerve you werenât ready to confront.
And then there was Ghost. He was the hardest to read, his silence a wall you couldnât climb. But his actions spoke volumes. He always seemed to know when you were on the verge of exhaustion, his presence grounding you in ways you couldnât explain. One night, as you cleaned a gash on his arm, he surprised you by speaking.
âYouâre stronger than you look,â he said quietly.
You met his gaze, startled. âSo are you.â
For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you. And in that moment, you felt something shift.
It was during an ambush that everything changed.
You were caught off guard, the group scattered as enemy soldiers descended upon your camp. You barely had time to draw your dagger before a blade was swinging toward you.
âDown!â Ghostâs voice cut through the chaos. He moved like a shadow, intercepting the attack with brutal efficiency.
The battle was over in minutes, but the fear lingered. As you sat by the fire that night, your hands still trembling, Soap leaned close, his grin softer than usual.
âYou did good,â he said, his voice low. âYou held your own.â
âI froze,â you muttered.
âAnd then you fought,â Gaz added, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. âThatâs what matters.â
You looked around the circle, meeting each of their gazes. For the first time, you felt like you belonged.
The firelight cast flickering shadows across their faces as the five of you huddled close. The tension that had been building for weeks finally reached its breaking point.
âIâm not blind,â Soap said, breaking the silence. âI see the way you all look at her.â
You froze, your heart pounding. âWhat are you talking about?â
Gaz snorted. âDonât play dumb. Weâve all got eyes.â
Price cleared his throat, his gaze flickering to you. âItâs true. Weâve⌠grown attached.â
Ghostâs voice was barely above a whisper. âItâs not just attachment.â
You stared at them, speechless. The walls youâd built around yourself began to crumble, the weight of your feelings crashing down.
âI⌠I donât know what to say,â you admitted, your voice shaking.
âSay youâll stay,â Price said, his tone gentle but firm.
âSay youâll let us protect you,â Gaz added.
âSay youâll let us love you,â Soap finished, his grin softening into something vulnerable.
Your gaze swept over them, each one looking at you with a mix of hope and fear. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you didnât have to face the world alone.
âIâll stay,â you whispered.
Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnightđ
#x reader#141 x reader#tf 141#task force 141#tf 141 x reader#cod 141#mw2 141#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x reader#poly 141#poly 141 x reader#task force 141 fanfic#tf 141 x you#john price x reader#captain price x reader#captain john price x reader#price x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#soap x y/n#soap x you#soap mactavish x reader#soap call of duty#gaz x y/n#kyle gaz x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#ghost
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Hi I love your writing and saw your request for ideas and such and had 2, one where John price is desperate to taste his ladyâs cunt, just on his hands and knees for it. And him just talking to her cunt, not her, just her pussyđŤŁ
Qgsuahdhsjdhd brain rotting rn from this anon
Warnings: smut. This is just smut.
AN: Am sick so if the ending is a little funky it's because I'm lethargic<3
"C'mon, lovie.." he mumbles, eyes on the wrong lips. John's hand strokes the inside of your thigh, "Open up.. take off the panties..."
You're just staring down at him, incredulous. He's staring directly at your cunt, the only thing keeping it from being exposed and dined upon is a thin pair of satin panties.
"Won't even make you all overwhelmed, hm? Just let me taste.." he trails off, glancing up at your face, praying for you to declothe 'her.'
You oblige, reaching a hand down, and as soon as that sweet, sweet mess between your legs is revealed John is *all over it.*
I mean his meaty paws grab at your thighs, holding them spread as his face dives into your pussy, licking and sucking and slurping in the most grotesque manner he can. Your hand finds his hair, clenching down on it, holding him down to your pretty little slit. He pulls back and you let go, his breath is hot and moist against your skin, "Fuckin' good cunnie, huh? All fo'me..?" He asks in that low tone before going right back to that cunt, licking fat stripes of your slick up. Your legs wrap around his head, clenching onto him and holding him there and grinding down on his face.
You let out this mewling gasp, and you cum on his face, it coats his beard and slickens his face, only adding to the lewdness.
And this man leaves nothing in your cunt. He licks and sucks and kisses it all up, all while you're trying not to cum again from the sheer dirtiness of it all.
Your legs end up forcefully pried off of his head so he can look up at you, giving your clit one last gentle kiss before looking up to your severely neglected lips.
You have tears pricked in your eyes, your face flush, your lips slightly parted. He takes his water bottle from the bedside table--this man always has one *just* incase he needs to clean up after indulging in you a little *too* much--then takes a sip, finishing nearly a third of the bottle. He swishes the water in his mouth, then puts the bottle to your lips.
"So fuckin' good, lovie. Always is," he mumbles out, tipping the bottle so you can drink some water. One of your clammy hands comes off from clenching the bed to take the bottle, taking however much water you want.
He reaches up to stroke your hair, "pretty woman, with a pretty little cunt, hm? Did you have fun?"
You nod, grinning all bashfully as you hand the water bottle back. He has that look to him, all proud and satisfied, the corners of his eyes crinkling and giving a delicious grin.
He takes a hand and wipes his beard down, wiping it off on his pants' leg. He lays down beside you as you slide your panties back into their original positioning, wrapping one of his arms around you pulling you close.
"Love ya, birdie," he grumbles out against your neck, closing his eyes and relaxing against you.
"Love you, too, John.." you mumble, shutting your eyes.
#the missus#call of duty cold war#cod black ops#cod cold war#black ops#cod fanfiction#call of duty#cod john price#captain john price#john price#captain john price smut#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#captain johnathan price#john price cod#john price smut#john price x reader#john price x you#captain price#captain price smut#captain price x female reader#captain price x reader#cod price#price cod#price smut#price x reader
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18+ MDNI
something something john price getting talked into coming to some fancy party held by some big name contractors and PMCs. he'd literally rather be dead than stand any longer in a suit and force himself to make eye contact with people who cared more about paying for warfare than the cost of lives.
cut to him spotting you somewhere across the way, dressed up nice and tensing your shoulder with every tight-lipped smile that he recognizes oh so well as a forced attempt at politeness. he doesn't recognize you, but you sure know his face well; the infamous john price, known for doing the dirty work no one else will touch.
quickly you find out you were both victim to laswell's "connections are good, try to mingle" speech. and after two glasses of champagne more expensive than your rent and debating which contractor had the biggest price on their head, he's walking you out to your car in a feigned attempt at propriety. it was as good an excuse as any to get out of the stuffy room. but, more importantly to him it seemed, it was an excuse to keep talking to you.
and something something he nearly pops your arm out of socket dragging you into the backseat of the car. hugging you against his chest, heavy hands on your hips while he grinds against you. he's hot and sweaty and too damn impatient. pawing at your clothing, greedy to feel every part of you he can manage. helping you hold steady while you sink onto his thick and eager cock.
he's fucking up into you before you're ready to take it because he just can't stop himself. all frustration and pent-up energy, desperate to feel some control again, his fingers dig into the fat of your hips while he bullies his cock deeper and deeper. the car's rocking with each thrust but neither of you care. it's so hot and the air is thick and heavy and you're both sweating but it feels so damn good that neither of you want to stop.
when he's finally doneâhaving spilt such a pent-up and thick load inside you that you can already feel it starting to trickle out of youâhe's promising to be a bit more romantic next time, take it slower and work you up with his mouth like you really deserve. consider it a thanks for letting him blow off some steam. maybe he even gives you some money for the mess and hassle, suggesting it go towards investment for tinted windows.
#it's 9 in tbe morning im so tired and i need that old man#clown writes#cod smut#cod x reader#call of duty#cod#captain john price#captain price smut#captain price x reader#john price#captain price#cod price
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Ghost is the type of dad that, when his kids ask the origins of their nicknames, he gives them only half-truths (e.g., Yes theyâre called âLTâ because they remind Simon of himself, but what he doesnât tell them is âLTâ is also short for âLittle Terrorâ.)
Gaz is the type of dad that, when his kids say something like âIâm hungryâ or âIâm tiredâ, he hits them with the âNice to meet you, Hungry! Iâm Kyle.â
Soap is the type of dad that, when his kids need to be humbled a little bit, he refers to them collectively as âmy sperms��.
Price is the type of dad that, when his kids are in big big trouble, he roars firmly calls for them by their first, middle, and last names.
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon riley#kyle garrick#john mactavish#john price#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2#female reader
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...little snippet of single dad/widower price x widow reader, anyone?
unedited
#kore writes#we're only 600 words into this but just ignore that okay#price x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#f!reader#as your skin gives
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Golfing Lessons
đ¤Pairing: Husband! Price x Wife! Reader
đ¤Pronouns: She/Her
đ¤Warnings: smut, language, diva! reader, teasing, public sex, kissing/making out, fingering, hand job, P in V, groping, nipple play, natural masturbation,
đ¤Summary: You decided to join Price on the green today
ââââ
ââââ
Price was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror making sure the collar of his shirt was looking neat. As he walks downstairs getting his golfing shoes on and making sure he had his golfing bag in the back of his car, the front door open, his back still turned but knew who it was.
"Love, I'm heading out for a few rounds of golf," he says, closing his trunk and then finally turning around to see his wife in a golfing outfit, a white polo like his, a white short skirt, her hair up in a ponytail and wearing some golfing shoes like Prices.
"Woah," he says. "Where you going?"
"Joining you," she says.
"Me?"
"Yeah," she opens the passenger door and gets in. "Unless you and your mistress are planning to do some...rounds together."
"Mistress? What mistress?" He asked, looking into the car from his rolled down window.
"So then you won't mind me joining."
"Of course not, love," he says, getting into the car. "Guess you're going to be renting clubs then?"
"Yeah, guess so...with your card," she shows off his card between her fingers.
"Oh great," he smirks and backs out of the driveway.
--------------
Getting to the golf course, Price signs in and Y/n went to the renting counter to rent some clubs, and rent a golf cart.
Price picked up the hobby of golfing after he retired from the military, he did started playing it with his friends Gaz, Soap and Roach and loved the idea of playing golf every Saturday and will be gone for most of the day, but why does Y/n want to join all of a sudden?
Y/n has her feet up on the seat as she was looking down at her book on her lap as Price drove the golf cart to the first hole, there wasn't many people out today which was weird, it was a nice day to be playing golf, but guess people had better plans.
Y/n had her face back down in the book while Price did his first swing, he turns back around and looks at his wife.
"Your turn, love," he says.
"That's great, I don't know how to swing the club," she says, still looking down.
"Love, you wanted to join, you rented the clubs, you get to swing and learn," he says, putting his club back in his bag and getting one from Y/n's rentals. "Come on," he says, she puts her bookmark in between the pages and got off the cart and stood next to her husband.
He held the club and motioned her to stand between his arms, his hands resting on hers.
"Now...3...2...1," they swing hitting the ball and it landing farther than Price's ball.
"Oh, do I win?" She asked.
"No, not yet, and you have to get the lowest score to win."
"Why the lowest?" She asked as they get back into the cart.
"I don't know, the lower the strokes just shows how good you are."
"Oh," she says, cocking up her eyebrows and looking at him.
"Hush," he says, pointing his finger at her almost like he was telling her to 'behave'. They got close to their balls and Price hit his again, getting it into the hole.
"Write par."
"Par?"
"2, write 2 for me. Come here, your turn." He says. She gets out of the cart and grabs her club and walking to her ball just tapping it in.
"2!" She says, excitedly.
Moving onto the next hole, Price and Y/n had to wait their turn, they got stuck behind two old men, Price leans on the wheel and Y/n still had her face down in her book.
Price leans over to see what she was reading.
"What's this one about?"
"Enemies to lovers, she hates him, he loves her, both actually hiding their feels for one another."
"Cheesy," he says.
"You asked."
"I know. Wish these two would hurry it up," he grumbles under his breath. She just shrugs and looks at her pages. Price's hand then went to her thigh, leaning back and wishing these guys would hurry the fuck up.
He looks down at his hand resting on her thigh and then slowly moved it up his pinkie and ring fingers were just slightly under her skirt, she didn't push his hand away but left it on her bare smooth skin.
He scoots a big closer to her, putting his arm around her waist and his hand now on her hip gently patting her and slowly moving his fingers back under her skirt and then feeling her wet clothed pussy.
"Price, now?" She looks up at him.
"If these twos don't hurry it up, I will turn this cart around and fuck you in the car or...I fuck you here, and let them hear your moans. I'm starting to like the idea of fucking you right here and right now." He says.
Y/n just looks up at him and smiles at him, she closed her book and placed it on the little cubby, and then she shimmies her pink panties off and pulled her skirt up exposing her now bare pussy. She then looks at the older men seeing them leave, Price was just looking down admiring her.
"They're gone," she tells him.
"Huh?" He looks up and grumbles that his plan was fumbled, he grabs a club, a tee and a ball and gets himself set up, lining his club at the ball and in one swing hitting it. He comes back into the cart and sits in the driver seat but Y/n had gotten out to do her swing. Grabbing a club, tee and ball and hits the ball with no problem.
As she swung, her skirt went up with the wind exposing a bit of her butt. He brings his hand to his face and drags it down, wanting her now.
As she gets back into the cart, smiling up at Price and shows off how wet she was now, rubbing her fingers between her wet folds exposing how much she was wet.
"Hurry it up, old man," she teased him. He just scoffs, stuck behind the same old men from before. Price doesn't say anything this time, instead he leans over Y/n cupping her face and starts heavily making out with Y/n not caring if people saw or if these sick old men did.
Price starts feeling Y/n thighs and then feeling her wet clit, she moans into the kiss and bucks her hips up, Price smirks and shoves his middle and ring finger inside of her with no warning.
She moans putting her head back and Price grabbed a handful of her hair putting her head back and smirking when she moans out his name, he released her hair and her hands went under his shirt feeling up his hairy chest and toned stomach and chest.
"You're gonna get us kicked out if you keep moaning like that, love," Price says with a smirk on his face.
"Yeah right," she says, kissing his lips.
Price then starts messing with his belt, unbuckling it and unbuttoning his pants, he gives himself a few pumps and then takes her hand and places it on his dick.
"Pump me, baby," he whispers close to her ear. She bites her bottom lip and does what he asked, giving him a few pumps as he watches to make sure no one will see them. His hands resting the cushion they sat on and the other on the windshield of the cart.
He looks down just for a moment seeing her thumb run over his tip, he groans, biting his bottom lip to hold back his moans, Y/n was then playing with the pre-cum that leaked from his tip.
"Hang on, love," he says, as he starts moving the cart. Y/n doesn't stop pumping though, moving her hand a bit faster, he moans and stops the cart. "Love," he says again.
"Should I stop?" She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
"I want to keep going I do, but we need to stop so, we can finish our game."
"Fine then," giving him some good pumps and then releasing her hand from his dick. He fixes himself and goes to swing. He hated this, why couldn't they have waited till they got home?
"Love, come here." She was confused, but got out of the cart and walked to him.
"Yeah?"
"Grab your club and ball...and hit...in the woods," he points his club to the thick woods.
"Why would I do that?" She asked. Grabbing her club and ball.
"Because I can't keep doing this."
"Doing what?" She smiles.
"Love," his eye narrow as he looks at her.
"Okay," she says, putting her ball down, wiggling her butt a little and swung her club. "Oh no...my ball," she sounded annoyed with her fake acting. "John, I need to go get my ball," she says, walking to the woods.
"Let me come and help you, love," he says, coming behind her.
Y/n found her ball and showed Price. "Found it."
"Good," he pushed her against a nearby tree, picking her up making her drop her ball and club to the ground. He attacks her neck as she moans and smiles.
"AH! Price," she moans, her arms tightening around his neck, and her legs tightening around his waist. "Fuck," his hot breath tickled her skin.
"We'll make this quick," he says.
He unbuckles his pants and fishes out his cock again, a few pumps before entering Y/n, she put her head back hitting the tree, Price moved his hand from guiding himself inside of her to behind her head so she doesn't hit the tree again. He thrusts up into her.
"God you feel so good," he groans close to her ear. "God, you should come join me more often," he says with a cocky smirk on his face.
"No...y-you're boring," she says with a joking smile.
"Oh I'm boring?" He says. He kisses her lips again, he moves her from the tree to the ground now.
"Not the ground," she coos. He just smirks placing her on the ground, his hands holding her waist and she moans while holding up her polo and exposing her bra, she moves the straps off her shoulders and starts groping herself.
Price smiles loving as she groped herself and how her fingers pinched her sensitive nipples. Price leaned forward taking her left nipple in his mouth sucking and biting her nub.
She moans. "F-Fuck," she cursed.
"Oh, I'm so close, baby," he says. She moans when feeling his thrusts start to get sloppy.
"P-Price," she moans. Y/n tightening around his dick, he gives a few more sloppy thrusts and ended up coming inside of her. He pulls out as cum leaked on the ground.
They both got themselves situated Price making sure Y/n looked how she looked before, and they same with Y/n helping Price, they acted like they "found" Y/n's ball and went back to their cart.
"Shall we end the game?" Price asked.
"No way...I'm having too much fun," she says putting her panties back on.
-------------
Price and Y/n had gave everything they rented back to the golf course, Price and Y/n got into Price's car. Y/n looks over at Price who started his car and started back out of his spot.
"So am I allowed to come join you now?" She asked.
"If you do the same shit you just did today then anytime, love," he smirks grabbing her chin and kissed her lips.
"Then next Saturday?"
"Of course, my love."
-------------
Next Saturday
Price had Y/n in the cart, she was on her stomach, ass poking out of the cart, her skirt lifted up exposing her nice round ass, panties pulled to the side, and Price was using her as he pleased, this time Y/n wasn't playing but instead keeping Price company.
Roach, Gaz and Soap had plans today, so he asked her to come with. She was just sitting in the cart with her book open reading it quietly as Price was swinging his clubs, but Price got hard while watching her read, which was weird, he's seen her read before and never got turned on before, so this was new. He stopped playing just to have her bend over in the cart and please him.
"Fuck me, baby," Price says.
"Faster," she moans out.
"How the fuck are we even still in here?" Price mumbled to himself.
Price soon came inside of Y/n pulling out and watched cum leak from her, he smirks when moving her panties back over, and put her skirt back down.
"Keep reading, love," he says, tapping her ass.
She just smiles at him and grabs her book off the cart floor and picks up where she left off like nothing had happen.
#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#fandom#fanfic#call of duty#mw2#cod#price x you#captain price x reader#price x reader#captain price cod#cod price#captain john price#john price#captain price
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price with reader who never got much attention as a kid/growing up??
very self indulgent but hear me out. price is a lover man. he takes his time for his partners, gives them what they need, even if he's busy. you on the other hand are simply used to being put aside, people only listening to you half heartedly, not looking at you and getting distracted when you talk, other things were always more important than you and you felt that. you got used to it, it's normal to you.
but when you're with price he's the total opposite. he looks at you intently when you talk (if not hes leaning his head towards you so he hears you better), putting things down when you ask him something - hes attentive. he listens. and its absolutely strange to you, it makes you feel flustered, kinda watched. at some point you ask him why hes looking at you like that, the tv running in the backround. he furrows his eyebrows at you, with a confused chuckle. "what do you mean, love?"
"you're starin' at me." you accuse him, your cheeks getting hot.
"you're talkin' to me. where else would I be looking?" he jokes with a soft chuckle, wondering what the hell you're on about.
"your show's on." you say, gesturing to the tv. he looks at you like youve got three heads.
"I'm listening to you, love."
#is this anything at all#or is it just me coping#we'll see#gothghostiie#cod mw#cod mw2#cod mwii#call of duty#cod#cod mw3#cod mwiii#john price#John price x reader#price x reader#price#captain john price#captain price#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader
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â⌠Sweetheart, when was the last time you went into heat?â
âI mean, Iâveâ Iâve always been on suppressants, soââ
âThatâs not a date, love.â
You swallow hard, looking at the cement floor of the makeshift safe house. You were supposed to be home by now, to have access to all your medsâbut no. You were here. Out in enemy territory, holed up with the rest of your team.
Your otherwise all alpha team.
âNever.â
Well. Shit.
#ovulation week#babyy#cod#call of duty#cod omegaverse#omegaverse#alpha beta omega#drabble#x reader#fanfic#reader insert#task force 141#tf 141 x reader#141#tf 141 x you#task force 141 x reader#poly 141#141 x you#fanfic prompt#prompt#fic prompt#fic#captain john price#price#captain price#john price#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#price x reader
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oh my god i love this perspective itâs so soft and tender and sweet and agh i love simon riley
Canât stop thinking about how much Simon âGhostâ Riley loves his American girlfriend.
Unlike the other 141 boys he wouldnât poke fun at you or tease you about the different words you use. Kyle loves to correct you,
âWhens the soccer game on tonight?â
âIts football love, not soccer, âcause you kick the ball.â
âYou kick the ball in American football as well.â
âYeah but...ours is betterâ
Johnnyâs a tease
âHave you seen my swimming suit?â
âYou wear a suit to go swimming?â
âIâm not calling it a costumeâ
âWell it sure as hell isnât a bloody suitâ
Even Price gets in on it by pretending not to hear you,
âCan you grab some chips from the kitchen?â
âHm? Sorry dear canât hear yaââ
âGrab me some chips!â
âGunnaâ have'ta repeat thatâ
â....crispsâ
âThere yaâ go, really outta speak up more sweetheartâ
Never mind the fact he was right beside you on the couch.
But Simon, Simon is different. Never once has he corrected or teased you, to the point where its become a bit of a hindrance.
âCan you stop by the gas station on your way home?â
And heâll just stare at you, an almost blank expression on his face, only the fidgeting of his fingers give way to what heâs thinking.
âThe petrol shop Siââ
âRight.âÂ
Is it because he doesnât care? Or maybe heâs too frightened heâll scare you away if he corrects you? Whatever it is heâll never say, but one thing is for certain, heâs absolutely elated when you start to pick up the British dialect.
You tell people your boyfriend is a leftenant instead of a luitenant and heâs looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.
Ask for a âwife beaterâ while pointing at the bottles of Stella Artois in his fridge and he swears his heart just skipped a beat (despite the crude connotations of the nickname)
Ask him to pick up âMaccies for you bolth on the way home and he almost causes a 20 car pileup because he has to hide his burning face.
Tell him you like the black jumper heâs wearing and theres three more in the online cart already.
And when you start swearing like a âproper britâ heâs ready to get down on one knee. He hears you mutter âbloody hellâ from across the flat as you listen to news report an expected 10cm of rain for today and for the first time in his life heâs thanking god Manchester is such a dreary place.
Youâve become part of his life, he hadnât scared you off, you hadnât gotten tired of him. You wanted to be here, you wanted him. Youâve been here long enough to pick it up, youâve spent enough time together even your words are beginning to match each other, and theres nothing in the world that could make him happier. So heâll never once correct you or tease you when you ask to go on a vacation even if heâs blindly nodding along to your requests and scurrying off to the bathroom later to look it up and figure out you wanted to go on holiday with him. Cursing under his breath while he fishes his phone from the sink because he dropped it in his shock at the revelation you wanted to go on holiday with him. Give him two days and heâs already bought the tickets
Sorry for the lack of posting! Schools been getting busy and I'm working on getting a draft of a book ready to send to a publisher so it's been a bit hectic but I absolutely love posting for you guys here on tumblr (srsly all your comments make my day) so I'm going to try and keep posting as regularly as I can! working on a longer chapter for my Ghost and Soap's roomie series rn so that should be out somewhat soon! thank you all so so much for your support.
#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#kyle garrick x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader
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Ceo!Price and his protege Gaz who you, much to Price's chagrin, vastly prefer the company of. Mostly because he actually lets you get your work done and doesn't submit bloated expense reports in the vain hope that you'll go confront him about it and not just submit the reports to accounting and let them yell at him.
Gaz is nice. Gaz is charming. Gaz doesn't stare at your tits even when you're wearing a turtleneck, and he certainly doesn't treat you like you're only around for eye candy. Gaz thanks you for the hard work you do and you're not afraid to tell your boss that with a huff when he grumbles for the thousandth time about how he'd rather have "something else" for lunch.
Mr. Price does not care for that snide remark. He does, in fact, threaten to put you over his knee if you'd like "something to complain about."
You take your complaint straight to HR for the billionth time. They don't even let you in the door.
#cod x reader#x reader#captain price#captain johnathan price#captain john price x reader#captain john price#captain price x reader#john price x reader#john price#price cod#price mw2#price x reader#f!reader#ceo!price#assistant!reader#kyle gaz garrick
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