#John price x fem reader

[libingan]

— in command.

price may be a hardened soldier, but one thing’s for sure—his command doesn’t extend in his own home.

i love the idea of a big strong man being utterly powerless to his wife i love it so much

as captain of task force 141, john price is used to people falling in line the moment he speaks. his presence alone is enough to command respect—a hardened soldier, a leader who doesn’t waste words.
but you?
you’re his wife, and you’re not afraid to cut him down to size.

“john, what the hell?” you say sharply, standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed. “wet boots on the carpet again? honestly, do you ever think before you step inside?”

he stays silent, hands resting on his hips, his eyes fixed on you. most people would be too nervous to keep talking, but you’re not most people. “told you once, told you a thousand times—take them off by the door. it’s not that hard, john. do you know how long it takes to clean this up?”

“you might get to play captain out there, but in this house? you’re just john,” you continue, stepping closer. “and john wipes his boots before he comes in—or better yet, he takes them off like a civilized human being. because look what doing otherwise has gotten us into.” you gesture to the muddy footprints leading across the room, glaring at the trail that winds its way onto the freshly vacuumed rug.

your voice is steady, your gaze unwavering, and john feels the faintest heat creeping up the back of his neck. you’re fiery, sharp, and so damn sure of yourself, and god help him, he loves it.

you raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to respond. “well? got anything to say for yourself?”

he clears his throat, shifting slightly as he adjusts his stance. his trousers feel a little too snug, the result of something far from appropriate given the fact you’re practically telling him off. still, there’s no denying the effect you have on him—your confidence, your passion, the way you hold your ground no matter who’s on the other side of it.

“won’t happen again, ma’am,” he finally says, his voice low and steady.

your glare softens, and the faintest smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. you turn away, muttering something under your breath about him being impossible, but john’s already watching you with something close to awe.

he may be a captain out there, but in this household? you’re the damn president.

[smokeysweater]

Masterlist It had been a good arrangement so far. You and John I mean, it had been pretty comfortable since you originally applied for the ad, it still baffled you that nobody else wanted this, 250 pounds every two weeks, to live in a nice house in the gorgeous countryside, with a roommate who is barely here. Even when John is here, he’s civil and nice. Doesn’t talk to you unless needed, using the sweetest of nicknames when he does as well. ” hey sweetheart, I’m about to run to the grocery store, ya need anything?” ”let me just squeeze right past you, doll” ” Thanks for the dinner love, it's delicious as always.” His voice, that deep, smooth British tone mixed with the most knee-dropping nicknames, it’s a wonder how you’ve survived this long with him invading your mind every time you go to bed. so it was a good thing you two had going on, he left for months on end, leaving you with the house you barely paid rent for, you’ve seen the bill, you know it’s not 250 pounds, that barely scraps it. You’ve tried confronting him about it, but he just hit you right back with a “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, just let me handle it.” …yeah you didn’t fight back against that one. honestly, before you realise it, three years have passed, 3 nice years of having a giant, beautiful house in the countryside all by yourself with a sometimes roommate and only paying dirt for rent, and you might be the luckiest person you know. it had occurred to you one day however, since it had been three years since you’ve started living with John, or as you’ve heard some people call him, Captain Price, that you two were common law.So, you thought it was at least a little funny, so you brought it up one day. You had been waiting for a week when he was home, it had been a bit since he got back, you decided now would be the moment to tell him, with you two sitting at the dining table eating a dinner John had prepared for you two The utensil’s that clattered and Clinked against the plates filled the mostly silent room, there was no tension against you two, just happy to let the quiet fill the air, so you took this as an oppuritinty to tell the older man.  “Hey John,” you spoke, prompting him to look up, baby blue eyes peering up at you, threatening to still your very being. “You know, since it’s been three years since we’ve lived together, we’re technically in a common law marriage now, funny right? I mean you're barely here but the kingdom decides we’re ‘married’” You chuckled, putting air quotations at the married part, you didn’t look Price in the eyes when you said this, focusing on the plate in front of you. so you were unable to see the way his eyes darkened, how his knuckles seemed to whiten with how tightly he gripped his knife and fork. His breathing silently froze for a moment, but the moment you looked back up again, he went back to normal, as if to hide what motions exactly ran through him like a fright train. ” that so?.. spouse we should do something to celebrate, huh doll?” Price asked, in the hushed velvety tone he always carried when talking to you. you shrugged, uncaring. “I mean, we don’t have to, I don’t think it matters, we’re not married.” You reminded Price casually, too preoccupied to see the way Price twitched at that.

”I suppose not.” He mumbled back.

That small moment set off a chain of events that would change your relationship for the better or worse.

the next morning, you felt stranger than usual, it felt.. weird, and wrong. But, naive ol’ you, shrugged it off, getting up for the day, but when you looked down at you beside the table to grab your phone, you noticed something. curiously, you picked up a ring, a pretty little thing, the red gem glinting bright in the Sun, the silver band attached to it feeling smooth and cool against your skin. next to it, was a small note. ’Hey sweetheart. Had to leave early, I’ll be back, I promise, I got you something for Our marriage, Hope you like it. Be back soon To Mx Price. Love, John Price’ what the fuck.

[call-sign-bambi]

🤍𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬🤍

info: john price x female reader | inspired by 🎧daddy issues / the neighborhood🎧

category: angst, fluff

warnings: negative self talk, dd/lg themes, petnames (sweetheart & doll), lmk if i missed any.

a/n: excited to finally post something of substance on here, i have a million ideas i'm gonna try to write over holiday break.

You let your head fall to the steering wheel, huge, ugly sobs wracking your body. Your chest coiled in pain, constricting around the giant, empty hole of nothing, where something should be. Where you needed something to be. Or someone. 

You felt disgusting as you blew your nose once more, adding the rough napkin to a pile of its snot-covered brethren littering the passenger floorboard. You’d been trying not to cry for an hour, all to no avail. 

Rolling down the window, gasping for fresh air, something, anything…

The sky, dark and cold, offered no comfort, the moon and stars, no light, and the breeze gave only a bitter chill. You needed to not be alone tonight. You couldn’t be alone tonight. Dear god, I’m so tired of being alone…

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Three ti-

“Evenin’.”

“John-” you choked out, tears streaming at the sound of his voice. “John, it hurts.”

“Darlin’, what-”

“Can I come see you?” A pause. “Please.”

“Come on,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave a light on for ya’.”

You threw the car into park, yanked your keys out, and slammed the door. You weren’t gonna make it. He lived on the ground floor, no stairs, that was good. Your head felt like it would float away if it weren’t for the pounding ache. You slumped against his door and knocked as loudly as you could.

A moment passed, and you wondered if the light had already been on for someone else. You ruin everything.

Footsteps. Bolt sliding out of place. Move. You gathered your weight and stood, lip trembling, in front of John Price. 

He wore a simple tee, worn with age, and faded track pants. Nothing fancy. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

He made a soft vocalization and beckoned you inside. You stepped in quickly, skirting past him, afraid to get him contaminated. He closed the door behind you, locking it with surety, and turned to you with a tilt of his head. “What happened, doll?”

That did it. You crashed into his chest, crying nigh uncontrollably, hands gripping his shirt, hair a mess. 

John let out a small uff and it took him a moment before his arms very gently crossed behind your back. You didn’t care. 

“It fucking hurts, and I hate it, I hate this shit, I just want it to go the fuck AWAY!” you wept into him, tugging at the fabric he wore, hoping the clench of your palm would take away the clench of your heart. 

He sighed. In an instant, his arms had slipped down and around, scooping you off the floor and letting you curl into his torso as he walked to his room. 

“No, John, no, I’ll fuck up the bed, I can’t stop cr-”

“Hush,” he grumbled. His voice sounded thick but you didn’t have the capacity to wonder why. “Y’can’t stand right now. I’ll worry about the bed.”

He nudged the door open with his foot and you did your best to bury your entire head into his shoulder. Something, anything to take it away, to go to sleep, and feel nothing for a while…

John set you down and the mattress cradled your body. His bed smelled like him. Everything smelled like John. He lifted you up by the back and slid a few pillows underneath you, handing you a box of tissues from the nightstand. “Easy, now.” John stepped to the door, but you audibly cried. 

“Please don’t…please don’t leave.”

His eyes rested on you for a long beat, softening by the second. He stepped back to the bed and cupped your tear-damp face in his hand. “Okay,” John said, tucking your head into his stomach. “I won’t leave.” 

Those words set you off again, and your body shook from the weight of the heaviness on your shoulders. “I can’t keep living like this, John, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I know,” he murmured as he began to stroke the back of your head, “I know.” Still keeping you tucked into him, John moved over your body and sat next to you, his back against the headboard. “Come here, doll.”

Sniffling, you scooted closer to him and pressed your head into his chest. His arms wrapped you once more, and he touched his rough lips gently to your skin. “I’m here. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

Your head pounded again, in cadence with your heart, your breathing, your chest, your pain, your everything, and it was all too much-

“Please make it stop, I can’t do it anymore, John, please, please!” you begged, nails carving moons into your palms. 

“Gotta breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Gotta breathe.” John took your wrists in his hands and lifted them above your head, brows creasing at the way your torso still tried to cave on itself, like the implosion of a star. “In…all the way…atta girl, out…easy, now…in…out…there y’go, in…out….” You gradually came down from the high, hiccuping less and seeing more clearly. John sighed again. “Come on, you.”

“Where?” you said, voice cracking. 

“Shower. Warm water’ll do y’good.”

You nodded numbly and held onto his index finger as he stepped around the bed to the bathroom, afraid that he would vanish into the dark. He clicked the lightswitch, and a soft, warm glow illuminated the cool tile room. “Up y’get,” he grumbled, taking you by the waist and planting you straight onto the counter. John leaned into the shower and turned the water on, letting it run over his hands. You let your foot dangle on his leg. You didn’t want to stop touching him. Ever. 

“John?” 

He stood, flicking the water from his fingertips, and motioned for you to lift your arms up. He began to peel your shirt off your body with heartbreaking gentleness. 

“Yes, doll.”

“I’m sorry,” you said through tee-shirt cotton, pulling your arms out of the entanglement.

“Don’t be.” John lifted you from the counter and crouched, unbuttoning your jeans. 

“I am.” You stepped out of the awful denim as he pulled it down your legs. “I feel disgusting and I made a fucking mess of you.”

He stood once more, stepping around you, pulling the fastens of your bra apart. “‘Boutta clean it off.” He moved to face you once more, pulling the straps down your shoulders and away from your skin. John’s eyes found the angry red line underneath your breasts from the combined too-small band and heaving sobs. He thumbed them softly. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible over the shhhhh of the water. 

John knelt again, tapping the inside of your thigh. “Gotta get these off.”

You obliged, stepping out so he could hook his fingers around the elastic of your panties and take those off you as well. 

You stood in the pile of your clothing and reached out, tugging at his own. “Can I?”

John nodded, his eyes never once leaving your face as you worked his body out of his shirt and track pants, hovering over his boxers before he stroked the shell of your ear. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice thick again. “Won’t hurt ya’.” You mimicked him, crouching to the floor and tugging the waistband down to reveal his naked body. He was soft, not an ounce of arousal present. Something in your stomach twisted, and tears prickled at the edge of your eyes again. You moved the boxers over his foot and put it on the growing pile of clothes. 

John’s knuckle traced your cheek. “Come on, doll. Into the water with ya’.”

You stood and shivered when his hand came to rest at the small of your back, guiding you slowly into the warm water haven. Stepping over the rim of the tub and into the shower stream, you let the water engulf you, flowing over hair and neck and face and chest. 

John stepped in after you. He didn’t move for a moment, and you opened your eyes to meet his gaze. “What?”

“‘M sorry you’re in s’much pain.”

“...thanks.”

“Let me make it better.” You stiffened. His eyebrows knitted together in alarm. “No, not like that. Easy. Just….” John picked up a dark bottle of shampoo. “Just let me help.”

“Okay,” you whispered, turning to face the water, trying desperately to keep from crying, if only to stave off another headache. 

John’s fingers laced through your hair then, working down to your scalp, through your roots all the way back to your ends. “I know it’s not what you normally use…”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

John put his palms on your shoulders and turned you gently, gathering you into his still-dry chest and rinsing the soap from your hair. “Not a problem, doll.” 

As the shampoo ran down your back, you lifted your arms ever so tentatively, and put them around his neck. John went still for a moment, but only just a moment, and soon his fingers were back to scrubbing your head. 

You opened your mouth to the smell of his shampoo on your hair and the bare skin of his chest in front of you. His heart, thumping steadily, beat right below your cheek, and you instinctively pressed into him. 

John’s hands slowed and he began stroking your back, gathering any hair fallout, smoothing over your skin, and breathing in your scent the same as you inhaled his. “I got ya’. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” 

The tears came again, unbidden, but not fighting their way out as they had earlier - now they simply flowed. As you cried, John turned you back around, applying conditioner, body wash, scrubbing your body for you, tapping gently when he needed you to lift an arm or move a leg. He never stopped touching you, never lost contact with your skin. And he didn’t take advantage.

When John tapped your thigh, you wondered vaguely if he would attempt to rile you up, making the excuse of “just cleaning”. But he didn’t. A soft wash cloth lay between his fingers and your folds, and he worked the soap over your mound just the same as he had the rest of you. He lathered your breasts gently, without an ounce of boyishness, simply soaping and rinsing. John’s own body got wet in the process of cleaning you, but you found yourself too exhausted to care. 

As the last of the conditioner was washed out of your hair, John let the water run over your back, holding you between the heat of his body and that of the shower. 

“Thank you, John.”

He nodded, muscles squeezing almost imperceptibly tighter around you. “Let me know when you want to get out,” he murmured.

“Okay.”

Minutes passed and you simply stood in his arms, letting every emotion that once filled your ribcage to the point of breaking flow down the drain with the water. And John stood with you, stroking your hair when the sniffles and hiccups returned, pulling you to him when they subsided. 

You spoke up, quietly telling him you were ready to get out. He shut off the water, reaching out to grab a towel for you and helping you step out of the slick tub.

“Atta girl, doll. Slow. Good.”

John wrapped you in the plush cotton, using another towel to dry off your legs, crouched before you once again. You managed to get to your arms, but it wasn’t long before he made his way up your body and met you there, his eyes soft as he took over. “I got ya’, darlin’. I got ya’.” You looked up at him with still-teary eyes as words failed you. The ghost of a smile passed over John’s features. “I know. You want a shirt?” You looked at your own tee, covered in snot, and nodded profusely. John took your hand and led you back into his darkened room. Switching a lamp on, he opened a dresser drawer and produced an almost-identical faded, age-worn tee, indiscernible from the one on the bathroom floor. “Here you go, doll.” John turned to see you right on his heels, feeling small in the unfamiliar territory. He really did crack a smile then. “Come on. Arms up.” You obeyed, your chin sinking to your chest. His eyes never strayed from their task, even as the towel covering your body fell to the ground and fluffled around your ankles. “I got shorts or pants,” he said, “You got a preference?”

Your skin prickled in the post-shower chill. “Pants, please.”

He nodded and did the same as before, dressing you with quiet comfortability, slipping soft material up over your calves and thighs. Without asking, John also produced a pair of black, thick socks, pulling them onto your feet with ease. 

“Do…do you want me to…?” You gestured to his bare skin. “I…can. If you want.”

He met your gaze, gentle eyes making you feel a bit less hollow. “Just stay next to me.”

“Okay.” I can do that. You settled onto the bed’s edge, feet not quite touching the floor, and watched him pull a shirt over his huge back and another pair of pants over his massive legs. “John?”

“Yes, doll,” he replied as he shook the water from his hair into a towel. 

“Can we…can I, I mean, you don’t have to, can I, um…take a nap?” When he didn’t answer immediately, you tripped over yourself to explain. “Just-just for a bit, I’ll drive home tonight, I won’t stay, I just thought maybe-”

“Sweetheart.”

You sat stock still. John’s hand came up to your shoulder. “Breathe, kid. ‘M not gonna kick y’out. Stay as long as y’need.”

You stuffed your hands in your lap. “Thanks.”

He tilted his chin to the headboard. “Get under the covers, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Your body moved before your brain caught up, and you were snug as a bug in a rug before you processed the full extent of his words. He’ll be here in…does he think we’re…what the fuck- 

As the confusion set in, John returned, leaning on the doorframe, phone in hand. “Y’like pizza?”

You blinked. “Yes.”

He padded toward the bed, clambering onto the mattress - the added weight made your body fall towards him as an uff escaped your lips. You smiled, the first one tonight, and curled under his arm. 

“Y’wanna order it?” John asked, showing you the screen. It’s cracked, but you can still easily make out the Domino’s online ordering menu. 

“Yessss.” You kicked your feet out in his soft sheets. Making your selections, you handed it back to him and watched his face for any sign of displeasure. He showed none. 

“Looks good, doll. You can sleep while we wait for it.”

You sat with that for a moment. “No.” You twisted your head up to look into his eyes. “Thank you, John. I would have driven off the road if not for you.”

He cleared his throat. “‘M glad y’came to me. Thank y’for lettin’ me take care of you.”

“I…like you taking care of me.” Your heart pounded and you became acutely aware of his hand on your shoulder, large palm and splayed fingers. 

“Yeah?” John’s voice rumbled in your ear, low and full and delicious-

“Yes,” you said earnestly, propping yourself up to look at him properly. “John, I…I…” He had the nerve to look amused. “...I…”

John chuckled. “Just stay. Stay and I’ll take care of you.” 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”  

“I…don’t know what to say.”

His features softened even more, if that was possible. “Don’t have to say anythin’. Just tell me what you wanna watch.” John nodded toward the tv atop his dresser. 

“John…” you sniffled, squeezing his shirt in your hand once more. “Can I just…lay here for a while?”

“Course.” And without a further word, he plucked a pair of reading glasses from the nightstand, opened the faded western they laid on, and began to read. 

A few moments of silence pass, and they are un-fucking-bearable. Your thoughts begin to race again - He doesn’t want you here. You’re a burden. You take up more space than you deserve. What happened to looking out for yourself? You can’t, can you? Fucking pathetic, you are. What happens when he gets tired of you? What happens wh- “John?”

He looked at you over his glasses, brows raised. “Yes, sweetheart?”

You felt small again, but safer. Safer than you had in a while. “Would you mind…reading to me? I don’t think I can sleep otherwise.”

“I’m that tedious, eh?” John grinned when you flicked him on the arm. 

“No! No, I…I want you to.”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “I’ll read to you.” He turned the page back (“Can’t start right in the action, can we?”) and began, his voice flowing in its same gravelly cadence, filling your brain with soft warmth. The story was of a merchant’s daughter and the cowboy she fell in love with, and John had just gotten to the part where her father finds out. “‘-and they came to blows, fists flying through the dusty air, the world fallen silent save for the sound of knuckles on bone, and-’ Are you asleep?”

You blinked, still very much on the verge of unconsciousness. “Nuh-uhhhh…” You stretched out under his comforter, nestling your face back onto his warm thigh. 

“S’okay,” he said. John laced his fingers through your hair once more. “Y’need the rest. Take it. I’ll wake y’up when pizza’s here.”

You needed no further encouragement. As sleep overtook you once more, you managed to mumble out, “Thanks, Daddy.”

John was very still for a very long time.

Then, “...You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

a/n: if you liked this, please let me know with a like, reblog, or comment 🤍

all dividers courtesy of @saradika

[bloodygnqv]

Oh Say Can You See

John Price x fem reader

cw: smut!! minors dni!, size difference (reader is described as small but dw there’s no infantilization), uuuh i think that’s it??

A/N: fuck the national anthem it’s a lana song. it’s been a while since i’ve written smut hope you enjoy anyway bless you all xx 🙏🏻

“Are you okay, love?” John asks you from where you’re laying on your side.

He’s all warmth and comfort, musk and tobacco and leather, a stark contrast between the feminine fruits and spring flowers and candy you enjoy wearing.

His voice is a quiet rumble, the crackle of a fireplace, the roar of an engine, the step on snow.

“Mhm, yeah,” you reply, sleepy and pliant, “Just really missed you.”

John lays on his side as well, cuddling you from behind. He’s always been the bigger spoon, arms and hands so large, so strong he can fully wrap them around your waist, cup your breasts in his palms, keep you to himself. His greed for you and your affection lodges in his throat.

You can feel him hardening against your back, and you stifle a small smile. “Go ahead, John, I’ve been waiting all day,” you whisper, your own desire sparkling in your belly, black milk and rose red and the veil of longing.

“God, you’re soaking. That needy pussy just needs some attention, huh?” His fingers slide against your slit gently as you whimper an affirmative and lift your leg a bit to give him access.

“I can take you, John, really, you can just slide in,” you mumble, stroking at his thigh greedily.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? You’re so small and I haven’t prepped you, you know it might hurt…”

Concern laces his voice like poison ivy. It almost makes you melt — he’s always been like this from the moment you two got together, soft care and love so strong it almost suffocates you.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I played with myself earlier..”

“Okay then,” he permits. He taps the head of his dick over your pussy, still not going in, syrupy whines escaping your throat.

And then his cock notches at your leaky entrance, slowly going in, and every little nag and annoying pesky thought hide somewhere in the back of your head.

“Oh,” you gasp and look down to where you two are connected.

John isn’t very long, but he’s thick, thick enough that you feel the stretch every single time you have sex. He carves out a place for himself in you, Galatea and Pygmalion, gentle marble across your legs (his large hands completely envelop the expanse of your thighs, leaving galaxy marks in his wake).

“Yeah,” John breathes, heavy, grunting out a response, “That’s it. Almost there, love, you can take it. Shit, you’re tight…”

You mewl, hands scraping for purchase against the duvet as he runs his fingers through your hair, his beard tickling your neck, whispering cotton candy filth in your ear. You know he’s already pushed in as you feel his heavy balls snug against your ass.

“There you go. Feels good, eh?”

“It does,” you whimper. There’s the slightest touch of too much, tiniest specks of pain, but they’re quickly chased away by the time John starts thrusting lazily. You’re not gonna last long, and if John’s satisfied grunts are anything to go by, he isn’t, either.

You grab his thick arm from where it’s perched over the gentle curve of your waist, delicate wrist teasing the underside of his palm and intertwining your fingers.

You’ve never felt more at home. You’re exactly where you need and want to be, ballad-like moans and late comfortable nights, devoted eyes and lust as a virtue. John’s filling you up just right, quenching the thirst that has simmered in you all day, pushing you off the edge.

John’s other hand reaches around and starts playing with your clit, just enough pressure in circles to bring you over the edge. He always goes the extra mile when it comes to expressing his love through pleasure, making your legs shake, newborn fawn, you are, seeing constellations and new planets beneath your eyelids.

“I’m gonna cum,” you murmur.

“Go ahead, baby. I missed you so, so much, my beautiful girl,” John rasps, peppering small kisses on the canvas of your neck.

There it is — the explosion of feeling and love and pleasure in your tummy, crawling down your legs and up your arms, making you moan and fist the sheet under your body.

Your orgasm pushes John to the edge, and you can feel his spend spilling in the crevice of your cunt, loud groans echoing in the corners of your ears, arms tightening around your small frame. That’s his favorite place to cum in, warm velvet around him, all that love that burns like a motor in his skin.

John pulls out slowly and lovingly cleans you up as your consciousness slips away from you. It’s been a long, long day, and the great sex is but your favorite way to release tension and put you in that space between wake and sleep.

The afterglow sneaks its way in your vein as you lay across John’s thick, hairy chest and close your eyes. This is your favorite time of day, all warm and snug and happy.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

His caress always feels like a blanket, a balm to soothe your wounds, a hazy morning dream you don’t want to wake up. It makes you all the more grateful, lying with the man you love in a space you two made.

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+

CW: Self esteem issues, female reader thinking negatively. Depression based. Implication of being at least 6'4" or above, heavy weapons specialist.

Pairing: Poly141 x plus-sized! Tall! Female Reader

Masterlist - Part One - Part Two

You were used to being pushed aside or asked to give your friend's number because they were far more attractive to look at. Who were you compared to them? Nothing.

So you stopped hanging out with your friends as much, making excuses as to why you needed to take a rain check. "I'm not feeling up for it. Maybe next weekend?"

Your friends complain about how you never hang out as much anymore. But what can you do? Tell them you have no luck in the dating world and that you were waiting for whatever god there was to kill to you and take you out of this world.

They wouldn't understand.

They never do.

What are you to someone if you're only good at killing people?

What use are you beyond wielding a gun heavy enough to shatter bones from the recoil alone?

Who are you?

WHO ARE YOU?

You help everyone.

But who helps you?

You care for everyone.

But who cares for you?

To call you little in spite of your height towering like skyscrapers above.

Who do you crawl to when you want nothing more than to crawl within your shell and perish inside your bones, inside your hearth, inside your supposed comfort of home?

Does anyone realise you're gone?

Or do you feel so cold inside, feeling like nothing could hope to warm you. If it ever can ever heat you up?

Who are you?

What are you?

Where are you?

Where did you go?

Where are you going?

Can you please be ok?

Can you please call home?

I miss you.

Please come back.

[dilfguzzler]

john price nsfw headcanons!

i'm currently hyperfixated on john price and want to write more for him. i always like to do an nsfw alphabet to get a feel for the character in my little bird brain

enjoy! open to requests (price and ghost only atm)

f!reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

his form of aftercare is definitely quality time. he will have just obliterated you, your mind is in outer fucking space. he'll pull you on top of him, not even cleaning you up yet, just wanting to give you time to come back to yourself.

sometimes the feelings are so much and you'll be crying, just feeling the feels and he'll stroke your back, murmuring how good you were for him, how you're his best girl. once you're fully back to your right mind, he'll get you some water, clean you up and cuddle you until you have a sleep

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

john price is an ass man. nothing else to be said.

he likes his hands. out in the field they cause damage and destruction. but they also keep you safe. they're also the hands that can make you scream and cry in pleasure. he also knows that you have a slight hand kink, so that's a bonus.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

INSIDE. the only time mr. breeding kink will ever not cum in your cunt is if he's coming in your mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he wants to share you. wants to watch you be fucked by his boys while he watches. wants to place you in any position he wants like he's conducting his own porn shoot. he doesn't know if his possessive streak would ever actually let this happen though.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

this man has been around. hoowee he knows exactly what he's doing, knows things about your body that you didn't even now

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

honestly, he's up for pretty much anything. he likes to be in control so even if you're riding him, be sure he's the one really in control.

he loves missionary, seeing your face, and command you to keep your eyes open and on him. he can get some real power behind his thrusts in missionary too, so much that you're limping a bit for a few days after.

also, doggy. see B, ass-man

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

definitely more serious. like he might crack a dry-ass dad joke, but he takes his fucking seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

this man is HAIRY. he keeps it under control but he's a very hairy dude

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

this one is a tricky one because i definitely think he has two sides.

one side is the feral, dominant man who just wants to FUCK.

the other is this old-fashioned guy, definitely still dominant, who wants to be romantic and charm the pants off you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

over his years in the army and the SAS, he has gotten pretty close with his hand. the only difference now when he's away, he has some abso-fucking-lutely delightful polaroids of you. he particularly loves the ones you sneak into his pockets before he leaves. those are always a nice surprise.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

this man is a kinky old boy. as mentioned before he is mr. breeding kink. defo daddy kink vibes although i cant decide if he likes to be called daddy or sir more. i think he has certain moods for each.

like sometimes he's in the mood to wreck you and wants your total obedience, this is when he likes to be sir.

sometimes he feels a little bit softer and wants you to be his good girl, and is willing to allow you a little bit of leeway and let you mess around a bit more or whatever

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he's a traditional guy. he likes to take you in bed as it's easiest (and god, does he hate to admit it, but his back can't really take anywhere else anymore)

he loves to take you soft and slow on the couch though.

oh, and he'll never forget you sitting on his lap for 2 hours straight, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. he was so proud of you for your minimal squirming and whining.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

simply, you. you literally just wake up in the morning beside him and he wants to fuck you into the middle of next week.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i don't think he'd ever want to hurt you. like he's not against a bit of slapping, bruising you and being rough but he's always very controlled and knows what he's doing. he would never want to genuinely, seriously hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he's a certified pussy eater, i know it. the beard adds so much. but when he eats you out, he's running on his time, he won't stop after one, two, three times. he goes until his jaw hurts.

and while he loves eating you out. fuck it if he doesn't love your mouth on his cock. sometimes he'll just leave you there while he watches the match and smokes a cigar. it's his favourite way to relax.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

as i said above, i think he definitely has two moods. so it depends

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he's a busy chap, so yeah he's up for quickies. it's not his favourite of course but sometimes he just needs to be inside you, and he'll take what he can get.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's up for experimenting. but he will never put your safety at risk. also, his job requires a certain level of discretion so he can't be doing anything that could jeopardise that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he hates to think about it, but he can't go like he could in his 20s. he can last ages but he needs a bit more time between rounds. but that doesn't mean there's no time for fun in while he's regrouping himself.

if he's feeling mean, he'll pull out your toy collection and use all sorts of fun stuff on you, not giving you a chance to recover

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

yes. you have a toy box full of all sorts of goodies. he loves scouring the internet looking for different things he can use on you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he does NOT like to be teased. but he will tease you omg.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's grunter lol. he'll say some nasty, sweet things to you.

although, you'll never forget the time you made him almost squeal when you did something with your hips while riding him. that was fun

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he's kind of a meanie sometimes and he's so glad you love it and love his grumpy side. he never thought he'd find someone he'd align with so well, not only sexually, but in every other way too.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6.5in, uncut, thick but not too thick y'know, kind of curves upwards

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

not as high as it once was. he loves to fuck but he's also 100% content to sit and watch some shite tv with you or watch you make dinner or some other domestic stuff

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

won't fall asleep until he knows you're happy and fully back to yourself. he's also gotten into the habit of needing a cigar after sex. he can't sleep until he ticks certain boxes

[johnpriceslamb]

౨ৎ Who knew the captain of the 141 could be such a gentle caregiver ?

His voice was much softer, Scouse accent isn’t as thick. His gaze is rich with tender and gentleness, a giant contrast between his usual stance in his work field— this isn’t captain Price, this is papa. And papa was absolutely besotted with you. A little tot of a baby.

“My sweet girl,” His rough exterior melts completely. A grin- alike of a lazy big dog smiling, etched onto his scarred face. He watches you waddle towards him with that silly lazy grin, to which he leans over further and scoops you right in his burly arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing on earth— to which he himself deemed was true.

“Just a little tater tot, aren’t you?” he coos, peppering a few kisses on your chubby cheeks. A squeal and a babble escapes the infants lips, clapping your hands happily, “lil’ wee tot, you are..” He grins happily, “I could just— eat you up, ya little tot.” The baby fever was seriously getting to him. Watching you giggle and coo, it makes his heart melt.

Praise and affection thrown here and there, he bounces you lightly in his lap whilst working on a few documents in his office. He hums a little tune his mama used to sing to him when he was just a wee lad. The sounds of papas voice makes little you ever so sleepy, and the constant vibrations of the gentle movements of his bouncing makes you feel even more sleepy. Soon, comes the slumber, and he lazily tilts his head down to watch you slumber.

He plops a binky in your mouth just in-case.

And with one last kiss placed onto your big chubby cheek, you fell asleep in his arms. In Papas arms.

[multific]

Interrogation

Captain John Price x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of smut

Summary: Being captured by Taskforce 141 thinking you have intel they will need, but you prove to be a handful when all your comments targeted towards the team are rather...sexual. So they call in the big man himself, Captain John Price to question you.

Watching him sit down in the chair in front of you, your eyes widened. 

"God damn, Handsome, now I wish I knew the information you need." you whistled. "I would give it to you right away, Daddy." Your eyes moved from his face to those thighs. This man just kept on giving.

"Listen here, I'm not here to play your games, we need Valeria's location and you will give it to us."

"Now, I do not have that, but I'm sure I can give you something else." you smirked as you bit your bottom lip making him frown. "Oh come on! Captain Price? Was it? I don't know where she is."

"You are one of her men, from an intel we know you are really close to her."

"Tell Alejandro to stop projecting his lesbian fantasies, I don't know where Valeria is, the backstabbing snake left me to die, why would I help her?"

"You must know something, don't make me pull it out of you, my man with the mask particularly likes to pull information out of people." he pointed at the door.

You let out a sigh as you tugged on your restraints again.

"I'll say this once more, I don't know any more than Alejandro, I stopped working with her not long after he did. She backstabbed me, literally and left me to die. But, but, but," you said when he moved to stand, making him sit back. "I'll say this, Captain Handsome, I can help you, I'm a fucking good sniper and I want my revenge."

"You want to help?"

"Oh, yes?"

"No."

"Oh please, is it because all of your men are... men? Do you have something against women? Or do you just not want to be distracted by my amazing ass during the mission? I have a pair of pants... makes me look just right." you winked.

"Enough!" he yelled as he stood up, turning his back which gave you the opportunity to observe his backside, you made a face of approval upon seeing his assets. 

"She does have a house... a safe house, I don't know if she still uses it, it is probably filled with traps, but I'll tell you where it is if you do one thing for me."

"You want me to let you join?" he turned, arms folded which allowed you to see the muscle of his arms.

"Nope."

"Let you go?"

"Nope. All I want is that once you get her, come back here bend me over that desk, call me a bad girl, spit in my mouth and fuck me till I can't walk. Deal?" you didn't even blink, he searched your eyes, trying to see if you were serious or not.

Oh, you were very serious. 

"Where's the house?" he asked letting out a sigh.

"Oh big boy, what's with the sigh? Is it such a hard task to do or something? Having sex with a pretty lady like me? You know what, Handsome? You might look sexy, I might want to sit on your face very very badly, but I don't like that attitude. I offer good information for a good time, what's wrong with that?"

"Soap told me you were... a challenge. He warned me before I came in here." he put his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

"Which one is Soap? The cute Scottish? Oh babe, you are so much better, look at you, Captain. The shoulders to waist ration is doing things to me." another comment the Captain choose to ignore. 

"If you give me the location, I'll let you join and you can have your revenge." 

"No sex?"

"NO!" you pouted but this was so far the best option, you did want to get one back on Valeria.

"Deal, I can make you want me, I don't need a deal for that." you said as you waited for him to take off the rope from your hands and legs.

"You are unbelievable."

"I bet you, Captain, you will say those exact words just in a very different setting." you smirked as he lead you out of the holding room.

He was shaking his head but he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the attention. 

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​ @stunkbiggu

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[pettyprocrastination]

John Price is such an ex-husband. Like ya’ll got married young (highschool sweet hearts probably) and split up but not before having a baby and even though the papers were filed years ago and you’ve both had relationships since then he will always love you and feel a little jump in his chest when he sees you and tells you that you look lovely, as always. He’ll make a comment about the creaking front door when he comes by and insists he fixes it for you as you tell him how his son is doing in school (he’s struggling in math. but he insists its because his teacher sucks and its not his fault) It’s been years since you’ve been husband and wife but he still keeps his wedding ring in his nightstand and a picture of you on his office desk. 

[libingan]

soft price moments??? soft price moments!!!!

price who is so gentle towards you only!!! he doesn’t even try to hide it, he likes to show off how you get special treatment from him :)))

price who speaks to you with such a soft tone, always ensuring his words are soft and calm. even when you’ve managed to upset him, he never raises his voice or allows anger to seep into his words.

price treats you as if you’re made of glass, always hovering nearby and tending to your every need with meticulous care. he refuses to let you lift a single finger, insisting on doing all the work himself.

okay, maybe he’ll let you help out, but only with the lighter work! anything else, he’ll insist on doing on his own!

naturally, price’s gentleness towards you extends into your bedroom activities :)))

price fucks you so slow, yet so deep, thick cock filling you up to the brim while his hands begin tenderly caressing your body, whispering sweet words of love and praise into your ear…

“takin’ me so well, love… so good for me, yeah? god, you feel so amazing… that’s it, sweet thing, tighten up around me…”

even when you beg and plead him to go faster, try to convince him that you can take it, he won’t ever budge! he’ll click his tongue, gently grabbing your face to lean down and silence your pleas with a passionate kiss.

he would never ever think of hurting you! even if it’s all consensual, even if it’s something you enjoy :((( he just cant, his heart cant take it :(((

price reserves his rugged and formidable demeanor for the battlefield, never bringing that facade into your home. In his eyes, you are the epitome of purity and the most cherished presence in his life. the mere thought of accidentally tainting you is something he cant bear.

[smokeysweater]

One of two obsessed john price ideas, and whatever lucky souls that find this blog get to decide. 1st. Roommate John price, where despite you never seeing him, only on rare occasions, you two are seemingly civil towards each other, and it’s like you don’t even have someone living with you, but he always pays rent on time and shit like that. 

But, one day, you offhandedly mention that you guys are technically common law now since it’s been three years 

(shout out to that one creator who had this concept but Ghoap) 

and he goes fucking feral. Suddenly, John’s here all the goddamn time, and you’re being treated to Breakfast, Praise, anything of the sort. Needed to fold your laundry? John did it. Want someone to watch a movie with? Price has the popcorn. Need a hug after a long day, John’s already scooping you up into his arms with a small kiss on the head. And the worst part, is the Rings. He’s offered you so many goddamn rings it’s scary.

And- i gotta stop there for that one.

2nd. Ai (kinda?) John price, like it’s the distant future, whether this is just at home and it’s like the latest thing, or your a space captain on the ship, either way you’ve like an ai personal assistant, or.. guard dog. Apparently.

John Price the ai (i will not use ai to write this, trust bestie) is weirdly overprotective of you from going outside the vicinity, getting seemingly worried every time you’re going on a date? But how could he be worried, he’s just an ai.. right? He can’t like, really feel emotions, it’s just fake.

Oh, but it’s real, at least price thinks it’s real, even if he knows deep in his programming it’s not, he can’t help himself from worrying about this poor weak thing, it was programmed in him to care for the weak. So that’s what he’s doing! Even if it means locking all entrances from your property, not letting anyone in or out.

And he swears, god he swears, he will tear out of the flesh imitated circuit and hold your frail little body one day. Even if it means death for some people.

Anyway. Pick one, or don’t, don’t care either way. (I do, I’m lying to you blatantly.) here is the masterlist to domestic price since that was the majority vote

[imeternallylove]

Not in your life - Cpt. Price

Cpt. John Price x Reader ( call sign: BONE ) ( pt.2 )

genre: angst, kidnapping

warning: suffering from enemies, swearing words

word: approx 1,000

ps: please enjoy my 1st fanfic of cod fandom!

main mastetlist | request | prompts

As you groan, you hear a piercing land harshly on your ears. 

"Bone...look at me," Price commands again, “eyes open, Y/N.”

Fluttering your eyes open, you take a shaky breath through your nose, coughing at the damp, mouldy air and cringing at how sore your throat is. 

When you hear your boss sigh, you raise your head and lock your gaze on his slightly blurry face. “Still broken?" He asks.

"I’m good boss," you grunt, unable to move your hands since they're entwined. 

"Our legs are tied to the chairs," the captain declares, seeing him never pissed this way before. "Kinky," you retort sarcastically. 

Price clenches his jaw as he slowly moves his gaze up and down your body, his eyes counting every bruise and cut, major or minor, that you have sustained as a result of him.

But before he can finish his sentence, the door slams open, causing both of you to turn your heads to the ricocheting sound. 

"I see they're awake," the man says, snickering and shaking his head. 

“Typical…” Price roars as the crack against your face thunders around the room, lulling you. 

As blood begins to trickle from your mouth, you groan and work something hard in the back of your cheek, spitting it into your lap as you gaze down at one of your molars.

"I'll burn 'em all," you tell yourself. 

"What the bloody hell do you want?" Price asks, perplexed. 

“Simple," the man with the accent query. "Who killed Barkov?"

“Why?” Your boss asks, his brow furrowed as he watches the Russian man close in on you. 

"You have too many questions, Captain Price," the man says as he pulls a needle from his inner coat pocket and places it just above your shoulder, making you wince at the cool, hard piece of metal tingling against your skin. 

"Once again, who killed General Barkov?"

You begin to whimper as the man presses the tip of the needle into your muscle, shaking your head and signing no to Price. 

"You know... This musculus. Is very...sensitive...to pain," the man lowers his voice and begins to smile deviously. 

But all Price could do was move his gaze between the man and your face, grimacing as the pain spread across your body.

"I can take it," you claim as the man slowly sinks another half-inch of steel into your muscle. 

To keep from crying, you bit your lower lip firmly. "Don't do it, boss," you shiver, causing the man to plunge the needle into your muscle once more.

Your bark was out and it was nothing short of a piercing sound.

Your leg was leaping helplessly from the torture, and tears rolled down your cheeks until you noticed the man repeatedly pull the needle from your muscle.

Price was trying desperately to keep his own emotions at bay as his eyes continue to stay locked with the Russian man standing behind you.

"Such loyalty," the man whispers as he wanders to your side, stroking the needle under your skin as your chin drops, gasping for breath lightly for oxygen. 

The man pauses before inserting the needle's hand between your ribs, causing you to fling your head back and shriek to the ceiling. "Such bravery..." 

You couldn't hold anything back your tears any longer. It's not the fear of death that pushes you over the edge, but your dissatisfaction with appearing weak in front of your captain

"Such beauty..." the man hums, leaning back and flicking his tongue out towards your earlobe. 

That urged the captain to finally open his mouth. 

"I'll tell you." 

You feel your blood trickling down your skin, your lungs overflowing with intense draws of dust as you slowly raise your wet, blistered eyes down to reach his furrow-browed, deeply concerned death stare.

"Perhaps some one-on-one time with us will push him to tell us a lot quicker, right? Sergent." The man says as he holds the back of your chair, shifting it on its back two legs and slowly dragging you behind him. 

“Y/N…? Y/N!?” Your boss yells, panic spreading across his body.

You tremble as you begin to fret, your head spinning as you find yourself being shoved throughout the floor. "Let me go!" After the man above you smacked his fits against your face, your eyes began to swell shut and it became difficult to see.

Hearing a door open, your heart begins to hammer in your chest as your breathing becomes erratic, the panic in your stomach beginning to rise into your throat as you feel yourself become nauseous.

“I’ll tell you!” Price finally roars out.

"No, he won't!" You lash out.

"I can't let them hurt you, Y/N!" The captain's voice screams. And despite spending years with him in various war zones, you had never heard such desperation in his voice before.

"I'm okay with it..." you whimper.

"I can't let them do what they're planning..." Price begins to wane.

Because seeing you in pain was a lesser penalty than not seeing you in pain. He would know how to aid you if he witnessed every move and heard every cry. Price would be aware of what had occurred and would know how to treat you both in and out of the centre...what moves to make and which to steer clear of as he helped you in recovering.

But if they took you away...

"So..." the Russian man lulls as he flops your chair back, crushing your hands behind you as they strike the cemented ground with the full force of your weight, snapping a couple of your fingers and fracturing your shoulder as you scream out in suffering. 

"Do you want to talk?" As he approached Price, the Russian man asks 

And when you hear the thundering shattering of a door against the musty walls of your confinement, you hear many footsteps make their way against the floor as firearms begin to cock in every direction.

"Not on your motherfucker's life." Soap says on the left side of yours, you could be heard Price giving orders to his solider as Helo landed.

"We need meds for bone now!" 

You are completely broken but wonder why the rich tone of an old man softened when he uttered it.

[ttsbaby01]

https://x.com/david_kennedy11/status/1747075970719236563?s=12&t=fSzhF56-gRNcgSn8DgdDIA

[ryuzakemo128]

How Did You Find Me?

Pairing: Duke!Poly!141 x female reader/ you cw: drug use, protestation, smut, sexual tension, your ex shows up, hinting at possible opium repeat use. Words: 627 Masterlist Divider Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics Summary: How did they find you there?

John interrupted your time with your ex, he noticed you were blindfolded and your ex’s cock was about to slide into your wet, sopping warmth when John decided to walk into your bedroom. You didn’t think he’d find out so quickly. You were mistaken when you thought you could hide this from him. 

What were you doing with your pathetic excuse of an ex? You should have gone to them instead if you were this desperate. 

What are you doing getting all hot and bothered, squirming around for a guy who would pretend your relationship wasn’t real to satisfy his mother’s concern? 

Eyes burning with a fury you could feel despite the pastel pink silk blindfold covering your eyes. You picked it out, thinking it would be a fun time to spend separating yourself from the four dukes whomst thought were losing a lover a month ago. 

You never thought they’d find you this fast. As you were always careful about who was looking at you, who saw what part of you and where. How did they know to find you in some dingy little brothel on the coast of Somalia? 

The thought of you getting yourself caught in such a compromising position. Both terrified you and aroused you at the same time. 

But the voice cutting through the fog is unmistakable. High from the opium you took to take the edge off. Thinking, ‘They’re not going to know. They won’t find me down here’ and ‘I’ve done a little prostitution work for the guy. Who says I can’t do it again?’.

It wasn’t until you were carried off the bed by someone else completely, it wasn’t until the blindfold is ripped from your face that you see someone other than John. Simon’s glare through the bright sunlight, sun rays spilling through from outside peering through the windows. The sudden bright light making you squint your eyes. 

Was your ship that recognisable in the dark, gloomy skies? What urged them to find you like this? Who told them to look for you? Why did they look for you?

The low groan from the depths of your throat as the room spiral, just enough to make you sick if you opened your eyes again. The nausea building inside your stomach. The combination of gin and opium. 

A dreadful idea on your part. One could also say it was a godawful one. A careless action to undertake.

“Who do you think you are? Recklessly endangering yourself in a…..place like this?” Simon hissed into your ear.

You tried opening up your eyes again, “I can explain everything.” 

The four dukes weren’t having any of it. They spotted you after months of trying to find you again. “I’d rather not hear your excuses right now.” John wiped the opium from your nose, his anger palpable, clearly appalled with the state they found you in. 

Your creamy nectar all over the centre of your thighs like a begotten, exiled son, a symbol of your lost innocence to a man who didn’t even bother to remember your name after he’d had his fill. 

The desperation mixed in with the opium, the sex, the lust and the carnal need to be taken like you were some kind of thrill seeker. Seeking out new tastes only to forget them as soon as you have taken the first bite. 

It wasn’t the first time you tried opium. As you so drunkenly state on the way to your lovely Defiant. Leaving your ex behind. Right inside the brothel’s room, heart pounding inside his chest. Fuming with rage at their interference. 

By the time you were awake again or conscious again, you were inside your bedroom heaving, vomiting into your bucket. 

How did they find you there?

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[ttsbaby01]

Omg yasss 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

p links of a captain john price lookalike that i loooveeee

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