#John price x wife! reader

[soapybutt17]

Too Sweet For Me

Summary: It was the annual Military Ball, the fifth one since you and John have been married in secret. With his new promotion as Captain, meant a whole ball park of responsibilities he was still getting used to—but nothing gets to him more than the mere sight of you, his beautiful darling in the dress he always loves. It was also something to prepare for with the new changes that came to this year’s ball. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Kate Laswell. Word Count: 2,190 Chapter Warnings: None. Author's Note: this was also supposed to be for @glitterypirateduck's O'Captain challenge but my appendix had other plans for me this past few days. Lol.

Inspired by this song (obviously)

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“Darling.” You couldn’t help but smile at your husband’s pained groan.

With a red backless dress, you know you would turn heads with your outfit and even more certain that your husband would be killing a few men if you weren’t too careful about him.

“Behave.” You pulled away from him as soon as you felt his hands hold onto the small of your exposed back. You turned to face him, seeing him so handsome in his ceremonial uniform, an upgrade since his new promotion.

“I don’t think I can see myself behaving with you looking so ravishing.” He muttered approaching you again and pulling you into another kiss, allowing him this one time since you have yet to put your make up on. “Will this be a problem for tonight?” He playfully warned.

“If you keep your hands to yourself it won’t.” You playfully pointed out pecking him on the lips one last time before turning your attention back to your vanity mirror to put on your makeup. “I’m surprised that you actually plan on coming to this year’s event. I’d expect you to just stay home after the last mission.” You pointed out.

Behind the bravado and the handsome uniform your husband had on, was a broken but healing man that just got back from a mission. A few scrapes and bruises you all know too well were hidden perfectly well, but the black eyes was something that would take more than an ice pack and makeup to actually cover.

“Better to be there to see what those muppets have planned.” He grumbled.

You had accidentally let it slip that there was going to be an auction for this year’s event and you had volunteered to be part of the auction. A simple date that you were certain meant absolutely nothing but it was for a great cause and you couldn’t really fault them with.

Your husband was still apprehensive about the fact, especially knowing that no one was made aware of your relationship to each other. Everyone was given the fact that you were both good friends that had been on countless missions together. It was nothing but friendship between the two of you if you were ever spotted in town together even when the both of you knew it was something more.

“It’s just one date, even Kate is joining along.” You tried your best to reassure him but it wasn’t happening whatsoever with the deep frown resting on his lips.

“Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” He muttered under his breath, finally resigning by your decision, which you were thankful for. No need for you to try to convince him with anything.

“You owe me for this. I need some kind of motivation for tonight not to blow someone’s head.” He muttered.

And you spoke too soon.

“How about a day or two in that ritzy cabin you’ve been pestering me about for weeks now.” You offered.

One thing you truly hated was being too out of touch with society if you could avoid it. You have to do it for work, you weren’t so keen on doing it in your personal time if you didn’t have to. But your husband just was a recluse when he wants to be and this was one of those many instance that he will have his way.

“Deal and the ring stays on so they know you’re mine.” He muttered.

You smiled, lifting your hand up for him to see the sparkle of your engagement and wedding ring still nestled on your finger. Even without him saying it, you wouldn’t even dream of removing it.

~

The newly promoted Captain John Price should have been at the top of the world because of his new title, but it was far from the reality of it as he watched his beloved wife continue to mingle amongst both officials and fellow soldiers. It still shook him to the core how someone like you could command yet bring comfort to anyone that was privileged to be in your presence.

But that was just what made him love you so much. How someone like you, a Lieutenant to his own position as a Sergeant would never once use your position to demean him or treat him as anything less than you were. Some may say your call sign as Rookie to be an insult, a way to make you less than what you truly were, but you proved time and time again that it was a reassurance to anyone lower than you that you will stand on equal footing as them if the need arises especially on missions.

“Rookie’s already stealing the spotlight.”

John turned his attention to one unfortunate woman he had the misfortune of meeting in his life that turned his whole world upside down. Kate Laswell was an intelligent woman—far too much for her own good at times but she was the best of the best in her line of work. She was one of the main reasons why he was placed in a mission that ended with him finally climbing the ranks.

“As she should.” John agreed, subtle in his comments as to avoid anyone, especially Laswell from thinking anything was going on between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe she refused the promotion.” She continued taking a swig at the whiskey she was cradling, only bringing a craving for one in John himself.

“I’ve heard. I don’t think she’d be a good fit with the paperworks from the looks of it.” He added.

Of course he knew the very reason why you had refused the promotion on your own end. You were in all accounts a better fit than him to become a Captain, a rank that had been a well-deserved position for everything you’ve done but every single time the topic would be brought up you had threatened retirement or AWOL if anyone pushes. You never truly saw yourself as someone that would be working behind the desk, you couldn’t help and navigate dealing with officials, you admit you were never built for such capabilities.

“I believe she is. You should have seen her chew on Shepherd during the last mission. She’s got guts and a heart that not something you see in the field often.”

He nodded, that was what made you special. He watched you now begin a lengthy conversation with the well-known and very much feared soldier Ghost. How you had been the only one to hold a conversation and not trembled at the sight of the monster of a killing machine.

“Why am I not even surprise with her.” He chuckled turning his attention away from you and turning towards Laswell. “So, are we just gonna spend the entire night talking about Rookie?”

“That’s not much of an issue for you Captain.” Laswell smirked knowingly.

“Will I ever live that down?” He questioned, jokingly.

He was once again reminded of the time in his drugged state where he was delirious enough to propose to you after a mission gone wrong. To many it was just him too drugged from painkillers but for you it was an intentional proposal that you accepted once you were alone.

“You’re never gonna escape the allegations, John. I will never allow it.” Laswell smirked finally excusing herself when the MC has begun.

He made his way to this designated table, his eyes always following you. He watched as you made your way backstage to prepare for the auction later on tonight. It brought the never ending dread in the pit of his stomach as the staff began distributing the auction paddle around, accepting his own without an ounce of hesitation.

It will be a long night that much he has come to realize.

~

“One Thousand!”

You had faced so much trials and tribulation during your career in the military. The vile and often times immoral acts that was placed against you during interrogations and kidnapping, but nothing in your life could have given you more shame than to be standing in front of the stage as numerous bids have been placed upon your name.

Your eyes had been following along to the numerous of individuals that were bidding, some were colleagues your husband had been all too certain had hots for you, others were top officials that you were more than certain were pigs for involving themselves in the date auction knowing they were married, then there were the guests that had been leering at you all night long.

Maybe your husband was right, the auction was a big mistake.

Your eyes scanned the entire room until they met the familiar eyes of your husband. The reassurance had settled on his eyes as much as the annoyance but he was waiting for you to give him the signal.

Somehow with a simple nod it was all he needed to do to raise the paddle and his booming voice had silence everyone.

“Ten thousand.” His voice had everyone turning.

It was one of the highest bids for the night and it just had to be from the man himself. The rest of the night had been a blur, after the auction and countless of formalities and empty conversations, you had found yourself in the arms of your husband as he helped you back onto the car.

“You alright?” He inquired cupping your cheeks the moment he had helped you with your seatbelt.

“Will get better.” You assured him grounding yourself back to reality as he patted your cheeks and driving the two of you back to your shared apartment.

The car ride was silent, the event with the auction still playing in your head. It could go so wrong in many ways if your husband did not intervene. It was supposed to be for a good cause, but it did not feel like it when you stood in front of the stage. You felt more like meat being prepared to be slaughtered.

Eventually you two had arrived back. Your husband opened the car for you and led you back to you to your apartment. The silence was consuming you more than you expected it to.

“Want to sober up or not?” Your husband inquired.

You turned to look at him as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Sober up would be great right now.” You sighed following him to the kitchen, hopping onto the barstool by the kitchen island. Toeing off your heels in the process, an unintentional moan escaped your lips from the relief on your feet.

“I haven’t done anything yet and you’re already moaning, My Love?” He teased placing a mug of coffee in front of you, from the smell alone you were all too certain was too bitter for your taste.

“Play your cards right and maybe I’ll be the one to make you moan all night.” You quipped right back, cupping the mug and relief of the warmth washing away the events of the night.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He smirked turning towards your mini bar and pour himself a hefty pour of whiskey.

“Surprised you didn’t threatened anyone at the party.” You pointed out.

“I could do lots of things, but I decided it wasn’t worth the hassle for either of us.”

You nodded, watching him unbutton his uniform and sit beside you. Your head immediately finding their way onto his shoulder.

“I’ll pay you back what you paid for the auction.” You promised him.

“You would do no such thing.” He ordered. “You’re worth every pretty penny I’ve paid for tonight.”

You blushed at his words. Even in the years of being with the man, he still has his way of turning you into the girl that had always had a crush on the handsome gruff all only had eyes for you.

Your eyes turned towards your hand, the sparkle of your rings was always present and never once did you remove them even at the party. You wanted to keep your relationship private but never a secret and there are days that you wished to let the world know. But now with his new promotion and you having to lead yet another mission with the help of him now, you doubt it would be a good thing to do.

“You’re too sweet to me sometimes, even after how shitty the night turned out.”

“Nothing shitty about tonight. I get to see you all dressed up and all eyes on you knowing you’re gonna come home to me tonight and do whatever their empty little heads could formulate.”

You rolled your eyes cupping his cheeks and move him slightly too pull him into a kiss that you had desperately wanted to give him all night long. The taste of whiskey brought a sudden thrill through your core.

“Plan on showing it to me, Captain?” You purred and the way his eyes blew out, it was all notification you needed to know as you were unceremoniously lifted into his arms.

Whoever thought your husband had a Captain Kink?

[partiallysame]

Being Price’s lil wife

-Task force 141 knew Price was married. Man wore his ring religiously, always putting it back on the second they were in the helicopter/plane/whatever after each mission

-He’d come to work with a lunch packed with a cute lil heart note

-To be honest they all assumed you were the same age as Price (old) He always said he’d been “married for years” (3)

-They never knew your name, Price only ever referred to you as The Missus

-Gaz swore Price had a photo of you in his wallet (he did) but they never knew what you looked like untilllllllll

-You called your husband simply to complain. The AC had gone out and the repair man wouldn't be able to get there for a couple days. No no this simply would not do, his perfect lil lady could not be uncomfortable in her own home he wouldn’t have it but fuck he’s out of the country for a few more days. His team however is not and while stupid, they do know how to do maintenance work (why? Just because.)

-He called his team for a very important mission. Gave them the address, accompanied with “I don’t want to hear a fucking thing about you causing any trouble or being disrespectful to the Missus you hear?” The boys were absolutely giddy to finally see the ever so important Missus.

-The second you opened the door Soap was apologizing for having the wrong house and oh so politely asked if you knew where the Price household was. This had to be the wrong one because there you stood, pretty young thing, big doe eyes. Standing in just a big shirt ending at the very tops of your thighs, lashes batting at the three soldiers standing at your door.

-“You’ve got the right place. John told me you were coming, please come in.” You had to hold in a giggle, watching all of their eyes go wide. Gaz immediately looking at the sky, the floor, anywhere but the wife of his captain that he was just undressing with his eyes.

-When you turned to guide them into the house they all saw PRICE printed on the back of the large tshirt just barely covering your ass (this is your own home pants are never required and its hot as hell without the ac). Now it was Ghost’s turn to look anywhere but at you.

-As they worked you’d bring them water or snacks. They now understood why Price kept you hidden from them. The perfect lil housewife. The woman of all of their dreams already taken.

-When they were finished they went to the kitchen to inform you they were done only to find a full meal set on the table waiting for them but worst of all? There you were reaching up to the top cabinet. On your tippy toes, your shirt (Price’s shirt) riding up enough to expose the bottom of your ass and lacey pink panties. Soap had to bite his knuckle to keep from groaning. Ghost grabbing the tops of his teammates heads, turning them away from the incredible sight in front of them.

-Price was right to keep you hidden from them

-They might just have to sneak in and break something every time Price was out of town if it meant this is what they got to see.

Price's lil wife Masterlist

[yeyinde]

winter soldier au with John Price who was held in a gulag for three years and comes home wrong. comes back snarling and furious and threatening to rip apart the goddamn world if they don't give him what belongs to him, what's rightfully his, if they don't give him back his fucking wife, right this second—

the only problem is: John's ex-wife remarried. she's halfway around the world, and Laswell knows John enough to immediately squash that idea right away. but if not her, then who?

and then you walk into the room—a newly hired secretary that John has met less than a handful of times; a pencil pusher barely even a blip on the radar—but he pounces. snatches you up before any of them can react, tucking your bemused face into his chest, cradling you tight; possessively clutching at you as Kyle tries, and fails, to calm him down.

"you don't know her, sir. just let the girl go—"

it's met with a nasty snarl. all gleaming, bloodied teeth. a stranger in a familiar shape as John drags you further away from them. "this is my goddamn wife."

his declaration is met with shock. you're definitely not his wife. you barely know him much outside of a several, threadbare exchanges where he breathed down your neck about filing the wrong reports, and the cluttered mess of your desk ("a goddamn eyesore—"). you're not even friends. and in all honesty, you didn't even think he liked you that much. so. wife?

but he's beyond reason. his head a mangled, trenched mess of artillery fire and Makarov's torture. three years, Kate breathes. three whole years.

you can tell, almost immediately, by the look on her face that this—that you—will become a necessary loss in the grand scheme of things. and when John lets her close enough to whisper into your ear (having somehow convinced him that he can just walk out of here with you, his fucking wife, leaving for the marital home (and bed) that he demands from them for this brief stalemate)—she hurriedly tells you about their plot. this high risk, no reward scenario of playing along. not that you have much of a choice.

keeping John Price as close to them as possible was worth more than something as flimsy, as malleable as your agency, your autonomy. and if the way to do it was to let a brainwashed man play house with you, then so be it.

she, at the very least, offers a grim sort of smile even though you can see her working out the mechanics of it all as she makes promises on your behalf. things like, yes, John, you can leave with your wife. she missed you so much, John. she's so happy you're home.

"we kept your wife safe for you, John—" no one seems to react to the violent way Johnny has to be dragged out of the room by Ghost, kicking and screaming at the injustice of it all because th' captain wouldnae do this! don't do this t'him!

and John—if there's any part of that man still inside him, he doesn't let an inch of it show—just nods, lip pulling up into a snarl as he bullies you closer to his chest, and growls about finally getting you home.

"I'll keep you with me," he rasps, blunt fingers spreading wide over the fill of your body. a mad, twisted gleam of possessiveness, ownership, burning in bruised blue as he familiarises himself with this body he claimed as his. "right where you belong, wife."

(the word comes out in a bite. snaps around you and sounds just like mine.)

[lostagoodcigar]

Been thinking abt retired price a lot

Outside doing yard work, all but barking at you to stay your ass inside cause he’s got it.

Perching up behind him on the couch to rub his shoulders, joints aching because military service and age seem to be worse on certain days.

If you still work, John will grumble every few days about how “you don’t need to work love, can take care of ya.” Which you know and assure him of that as you kiss him while getting out of bed. He’ll sit in the bathroom as you get ready, make you your preferred morning drink and maybe even pack your lunch.

“John you don’t need to-“

“Least I can do, not jus’ gonna sit around and let my pretty wife have a million things to do.”

Grumbles about gaining weight every time you make a meal, which is most nights. Seeing John a bit softer around the edges puts your mind at ease. It’s not often he gets strung up on how he’s not as cut as he used to be, but when he does you spend a few hours assuring him with kisses and then some that, “Love the way you look John- part of the whole marriage plan I had actually. Needed a nice body pillow.” Which earns a chuckle, before you’re bouncing in his lap murmuring how much you adore him and like treating him well.

Being the host for the get together dinners John drags the 141 into. An excuse to see his boys again, and an excuse to show off the pretty thing he gets to see everyday.

[gothghostiie]

something something babysitter!reader, price calling you to pick you up earlier because his shitty ex wife made sure he has the wrong time for the court hearing, you rush over to his house. hes incredibly thankful while horribly stressed, quickly tying his tie around his neck while on the way to the door. you, being the sweet thing you are, follow him around to help, baby on your hip, keys in the other. he takes them while you're standing in the doorframe and without thinking; call it force of habit; he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before speeding off.

[bravo666]

mdni • price x f!reader

captain price has a ritual and his men know better than to disturb. every time 141 gets back from an op and rumbles back to hereford, they unload, debrief, file the necessary reports and then some, all that dreary bureaucracy that needs to be done within the first couple hours of touching back onto english soil. and then, at the first opportunity, he fucks off. captain’s privilege, he says.

the others do too—on the town or to the bunks or to their own flats or wherever—but price never joins them. he has his own destination in mind and it’s a solo journey, so quit nosing about trying to find out, sergeant. he’s only ever gone for a few hours, six at the most, before he rolls on back to base, squares his shoulders, and throws himself back into work. at least he always seems a bit lighter when he comes back.

said destination is a pub not one, not two, but three villages over. the further from base, the less likely it is for him to run into one of his men, and he’d just hate it if that happened, would feel like a dog dragging mud in through the garden door, crossing his wires. he might not like it about himself, but john price is a greedy and selfish man, and the pretty little thing that’s been tending bar for the past few years is a morsel that he wants to keep all to himself, cradled in his jaw and savored.

the dingy pub is nondescript and uncreative, a local establishment that’s been around since anyone can remember and hadn’t changed a whit. price found the place back when he was first made captain and started looking for further out watering holes, looking for some peace and quiet away from the places where the recruits drank. he almost wrote the place off his lists of spots before he saw the flustered young bartender duck in for her shift.

since then, he’s been a regular—for a given value of ‘regular’, as much as a military man can be—ever since. started swapping conversation after the third or fourth visit. polite conversation turned friendly, then raucous with laughter, then warm and teasing.

that’s as far as he let’s it go, naturally. with a job like his, he’s married to his work; there’s no room, no time in his life for a sweet little wife, no matter what he dreams at night with his cock fisted in his grip or whose face he happens to see play the role. he tried the whole wife thing once, chased after it, even, and all price has to show for it is an alimony payment set to automatically go out every month.

(his ex-wife couldn’t handle him in the end. she was the type of woman who needed him at every hour to keep her love alive and couldn’t stomach the weeks alone while he was deployed, and even when price was home, she didn’t have an appetite to match his when he slipped himself off his leash. they both jumped into it without looking ahead. such is life.)

so he ignored the hungry need for a woman beside him, and even if he ever did go down that route again, it couldn’t be her. she’s young and bright and untouched by blood. playful flirting and occasional brushes of fingers hovered somewhere plausibly deniable as a service worker buttering up a favorite patron, or—and price only lets this thought loose for a moment before snatching it and shoving it down with a growl—a friend. he’s gone half the year anyway, or something like it. every time he comes, he carries the irrational, ugly fear that in she’s moved on, moved out, got a new job, left the country, got married—

when he shoulders through the door now, sawdust sticking to his boots, his girl’s—because that’s what she is, even if it’s only the sight of her that he lets himself claim and hoard—wiping down glasses behind the sill, the pub just about empty as all the old timers went home. his first thought is that she’s still there, thank god. his second’s that she’s changed up her hair. it looks good. price pointedly ignores the way the sight of her with her new hair and those pretty lips makes him chub up a little.

his girl’s eyes crinkle a little when she looks up toward the door. “john,” she says warmly, and before he’s even seated at his usual spot on the bar, she’s filling him up his favorite pint. “how are you doing, handsome? just got back from saving the world?”

a snarling, hungry, traitorous part of his brain tells him that his wife is being so good, keeping him fed and watered, and the only thing next on her wifely duties is to keep his balls drained. he tells it to go stuff itself.

“still working on it, sweetheart,” price says with a sip. maybe it was worth it, when she asked a while ago why he showed up so irregularly, to tell her that he was SAS, if only for the way she called it after. saving the world. that’d be nice.

this time, though, he notices something else that’s new besides the hairstyle, and it makes his beer taste like dust in his mouth. a glint in the light, on his girl’s left hand.

not really his girl anymore, is she?

price swallows down his mouthful and tries to quell the sudden heat that rises in his veins, a raging anger that feels, inexplicably, like he’s been stolen from. his molars clench together for dear life as he rearranges, tames, quiets himself. it was fine. it was fine! she’s just his bartender, is all. his friend. modern country and whatever, she could go meet whoever, get engaged to whoever, fuck whoever, and if she was happy, then—then price would have to be happy for her.

(she better be happy, he thinks. if whatever little boy she’s found isn’t making her feel like a bloody princess every god damn day then he doesn’t deserve the fingers he touches her with or the cock between his legs—)

this was good, even. with a ring on her finger, price’d always have a reminder that pretty girls didn’t owe him anything, don’t belong to him like a dog with a bone. kill the fantasy, keep his head on the missions. a better soldier. it’s that tightening thought that lets him calm himself enough to say “congratulations are in order, i assume?”

his gi—the—she furrows her brow in confusion, but she follows price’s gaze—how could she not, with him practically burning a hole in her finger with his stare—and laughs. “oh, that,” she says, easy as ever. “no, nothing’s happened.” she wiggles the ring off her finger and sliding it across the counter to price for his inspection.

under his touch, the tell is obvious: it’s plastic, cheap, almost gummy plastic. the faux diamond is cheap acrylic, only close to sparkling because she’s gone through and polished it up. it takes him a moment before he puts it together, but before he does, he briefly becomes so angry that he thinks he might actually kill a civilian for treating her this way.

“bought that online for five quid,” she keeps going. “just to stop some of the patrons from asking questions, or flirting, or, you know, trying to introduce me to their nephews and that kind of thing.”

a decoy ring. a dummy, a shield, something with no actual suitor attached to the other end. price is so relieved that he can feel every muscle in his aching body untense, and it pisses him off because he knows he shouldn’t care this much about his friend’s love life. “smart,” he says, his voice a bit thick before he clears it. “smart. though, you know, sweetheart, you could always try telling them you’re not interested.”

“please, john, you think i haven’t tried?” she shrugs. “no, most of them don’t listen without seeing a little proof that that seat is taken. always thought they could convince me otherwise. the ring shuts up most of them, and the few that still don’t get the hint, i end up having to tell them stories about ‘my husband’ before they piss off.”

the word husband coming from her mouth makes something rumble in price’s chest that’s becoming dangerously difficult to ignore. he tries a chuckle, tries to focus on the feeling of his beard bristling his own cheeks and not the way they would feel against hers, and tries to lighten the mood. “so, what, you just make up stories about this husband of yours? grand tales of romance?”

but she looks away, and—is his girl flustered? she picks up a rag in her hands and starts wiping idly at the counter, like she’s trying to avoid his eyes. “oh, you know,” she says. “i keep it simple. just enough to, er, get them to stop, and consistent, so they can’t pick holes. he’s—he’s in the military. leads a team.”

then, quietly, “he’s out there saving the world.”

the dog slips his leash.

when price finally leaves to make the long drive back to base, his shirt rumpled and his chin wet with slick, he keeps the plastic ring in his back pocket, not bothering to give it back. why would he? she doesn’t need it anymore, because he’s going to buy his girl the real diamonds that she deserves.

[ilium-ilia]

Kate's wife wants kids.

But adoption is difficult and long, and finding a donor is expensive and soul sucking. She can see the way your eyes widen at the children at the park, at the mothers holding their infants, at the baby clothes you pass in the store. She sees the way you buzz at the mere mention of children; of starting a family.

So eventually, she confides in the man she trusts most: John Price.

Of course, he prefers to do things the old fashioned way.

It's a simple arrangement. He fucks you under her supervision. Head cradled in her lap, she strokes your cheeks as he ruts into you. She talks over his grunts, saying how well you're doing, and she can't wait to see you pregnant; to make you a mom. She's always there to clean up after him, making you come undone on her fingers and tongue until you're a right mess. Kate keeps him updated with weekly texts to see how the tests have gone and when he needs to come back.

He gets you pregnant after only two months (a feat which John prides himself on. Kate thanks him for his efficient work, as usual). Within a year, he's named the godfather of the kid, and you and Kate welcome your sweet little girl into the world.

John is not at all surprised when Kate messages him again two years later asking for that same favor.

[moralesispunk]

John Price x wife x Simon - now lets talk about John who wants kids but found out he can’t get you pregnant so asks a trusted friend - Simon

NSFW so minors dni (breeding kink, pinv unprotected)

(John x reader x Simon all links here)

John had proposed the idea one night and you had brushed it off, you did it again the second time, but the third time he told you about the idea, about how he had a friend who he would trust with his life and so would trust to get his wife pregnant, you started to think about it.

It was something that had clearly been weighing on his mind, on both your minds really though yours in a different way. Kids had always been in your idea of the future, especially a future after John's retirement, but after a year of trying with no success you both found yourself at a doctor holding a result that told you John couldn't have kids.

It was a hard blow for both of you but you decided to give yourselves some time to deal with the emotions of it first. That was, until John came up behind you one day in the kitchen for the third time, chin resting on your shoulder as he told you a way that you could have a kid that may not be his biologically but one he would love wholeheartedly.

"Let's just sit down, the three of us, and talk about it," he said.

So you agreed, "just talk no promises" you told your husband and he kissed your cheek with a smile, moustache tickling your skin as you laughed and wriggled away from him.

It was a night that had you making dinner and talking about your week, filling the silence nervously as you cleaned the plates away, before John pulled you to the living room and onto his lap on one sofa, Simon taking the other.

You both listened as Simon told you that he wanted kids but didn’t feel he could have a relationship. He didn’t want to just be some guy to your kid, he wanted to be another dad, who got to see them and take them at weekends and be no different to you or John. John's hand was a steady weight on your back as you listened, and then after a moment to think about it agreed, the three of you deciding to forgo the expensive procedures with doctors and, as John said, do it the ol’ fashioned way.

So here you were, lying on your back and looking up at Simon who was slowly pushing himself into you. John was sitting in the chair in the corner, having spent the last forty minutes or so helping Simon stretch you open, using his thumb on your clit as Simon curled his fingers inside you until you had come twice before John said you were ready.

"Fuck," Simon groaned and your hands clawed at the covers until he was fully seated inside you.

Your eyes were tearing up. He was bigger than John, although not as girthy, and hitting you deeper than you had felt before. Your head rolled to the side towards John and he could see in your eyes that you needed something more, sitting up from the chair and coming to kneel by the bed.

"You can take it." John stroked a hand over your head. "Can't you, angel?"

"Mhm!" You moaned, Simon's fingers digging into your hips as he started to thrust into you faster.

"Let me hear you," John said, thumb pressing down on your chin so you stopped biting your bottom lip and let your moans out.

You weren't sure who to moan for, what to do. "I can take it," you said, looking at John, but he shook his head.

"Tell Simon."

You rolled your head back and looked up at Simon, your fingers reaching to stroke along his knuckles before he took your hand in his. "I-I can take it, Si-" You cut off on another moan and Simon's eyes were nearly rolling to the back of his skull.

You were both getting close, Simon's chin tucked to his chest as he watched his cock get lost in you and your eyes were rolling when John started rubbing circles on your clit.

"Gonna fill my wife up?" John asked and Simon grunted, his eyes flicking up to yours.

"You goin' to let me? Let me get you good and pregnant?" Simon asked through his grunts and your back archesd off the bed, muttering of please, please, please passing your lips in breathy moans.

"Need you to come for me first," he said and John kept that steady pressure against your clit that he knew you liked, his lips pressed against your temple.

John reached for your other hand, the one not holding Simon's and felt you squeeze it as you came closer to your orgasm. "You're so good," he whispered against your skin "You're doing so well, you're almost there."

"Fuck, Simon! J-John!" You squealed and both men groaned, John wrapped his hand around his cock and stroking it in time with Simon's thrusts.

Your body tensed and relaxed as you came, Simon holding you there with one hand on your hip, your head turning and kissing John who was spilling over his hand. He swallowed all of your moans, pulling back when Simon started to work through his release and he pulled Simon to you, his friend now kissing his wife as he spilled into you.

Simon's kisses were different from John's and you let go of both their hands to run through his hair. He was softer in his kisses, tentative almost as small whines came from the back of his throat until his body relaxed on top of yours.

"Hips up, baby," John's voice came from beside you and Simon pulled back, rolling to the side as John slid a pillow under your hips.

"I don't know if there's science behind this," you giggled, dizzy and sated.

"Not taking any chances," Simon whispered, his rough hand running down your stomach.

After a while the men carried you to the bath, washed you and had you hydrated and tucked back under the covers. If you had been more aware of your surroundings and not on the edge of a deep sleep, you would probably be thinking about that might have been it, how you, Simon and John might be having a baby.

Simon bent down and kissed your forehead, smiling against your lips when you tilted your head up to kiss him proper.

"Well, I should-" Simon reached for his jeans but you stopped him with a hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Stay," you said, tugging his wrist once.

His eyes flicked to your husband and he must have found whatever he was looking for because he dropped his jeans by the side of the bed and lay down beside you, pulling your body into his chest.

John lay on your other side, pulling the duvet up and switching off the bedside lamp.

John had wondered if part of him would struggle with this set up, whether he would get jealous and call it off, yet when he looks at you in Simon's arms it feels right. Especially when, even while asleep, you reach a hand out to wrap around his.

________

ready to run into the sea after writing that

[soapybutt17]

Night Showers

Summary: A shower, a missing condom, and Soap doing his best to get on his Captain's nerves (the 20 laps around the entire base was worth it). Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Word Count: 2,168 Chapter Warnings: Smut. Unprotected Penetration. Creampies. P in V. Oral Sex (F receiving). Alternate Universe. Soap just being a little shit for the giggles and all. Unedited as usual. A/N: To the anon that sent me the request, this is for you. I just can't get this idea out of my head and it shows.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open

One of the few perks of being part of the upper ranks were the privilege of having your own time to bathe. But unlike other assholes that prefer being in first, you preferred to be the last one to step foot in the communal showers. You prefer taking your time, lathering yourself up to the perfect suds and savoring every single minute of the cold water against your skin.

You preferred your privacy as much as the next person and practically living in the base, you don’t get that privilege as often as you want unless you were here. It was ironic seeing it was a communal space and there was an off chance another female member of the base would slip back in but it was rare especially at this time of the night where you were certain almost everyone aside from the people on watch duty were fast asleep.

The frigid cold water would have woken you up but the longer you stood in the water, the more did you feel the weight of the day get to you and you were close to falling asleep from where you stood. You were close to ready to finally get to bed and sleep before the following day of drills.

You felt a hand before you realize it and instincts had equipped you to act fast and hit whoever was ballsy enough to touch you. But it seems your husband was faster than you as he held onto your fisted hand. A smirk playing on his lips for catching you off guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whispered screamed at him at this point. The panic of someone possibly entering immediately crossed your mind and the possibility of either of you (mostly him) getting in trouble for being in the same shower together.

“Locked the door on my way in if that’s what you’re worried about, Love.” He smirked and only now did you come to realize that he was butt naked just as much as you.

You felt the heat on your cheeks at the realization. It’s been far too long since you’ve had even a semblance of intimacy with your husband. With mission and reports constantly pulling the both of you apart, having him so close to you now only brought the much deprived need in you to come back full force for him to see.

“Fucking hell, cold as ice.” He muttered as the water has finally hit his skin.

Your eyes gazed at the bear of a man you had the privilege of calling your husband. The way the water slither against his hairy chest and down to his happy trail all the pent up desire has come and you did not know if you had the mental fortitude to resist him at this point.

“Seein’ something you like, Love?” He teased, his watercolor eyes gazing down at you as he caught you staring.

“Very.” You quipped turning back to the waters to wash away the last of the suds that was still covering your skin. “But I think you already know that by now.” You muttered looking over your shoulder to look down at his manhood alive and awake you to see.

“Most definitely.” He chuckled, his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you further into his torso, his manhood pressing against your back in the process. “And you could feel it right now.”

“John…” You warned. You’ve had far too many close calls with the man in the past, had it not been for everyone’s lack of idea about what was going on between the both of you, you both would have been caught in one too many compromising situation.

“I’m doing nothing, Love.” He chuckled, his hand slowly creeping from your stomach up towards the swells of your breast giving a gentle squeeze before one hand rested against the columns of your neck and the other holding onto your jaws to keep you in place. “Nothing at all.” He purred, lips finding their place against where your neck and shoulders met.

“John not here.” You warned him again, the fact that the doors to the showers were locked did not reassure you at all. You still fear the possibility that someone had seen you then seen your husband walk inside in the middle of the night.

“Where then? Name a time and place.” He propositioned.

“Your room, after you shower.” You finally relent knowing that when your husband was in the mood just as much as you were, nothing would stop him from having you.

“Deal.” He turned your head until your lips met his own in a searing kiss that drowned you more than the water that showered above you both.

Your hand found their way against his wet beard, trying and failing to control his kiss, savoring the first of many kisses he was more than willing to give you for the rest of the night.

Fuck Protocol. Fuck Reputation. You will be fucked and you will make the most out of it.

“I’ll meet you naked on your bed.” He practically commanded you now as he pulled away. Any other time you would have made the protest of him giving him orders the way that he did but you truly didn’t care at this point.

Nodding, you pulled away from his hold. The coldness of his absent touch did more damage than the water ever could. Without even looking back, you had toweled dried yourself and put on your clothes—ignoring the fact that it was your dirtied ones. You’re going to be naked once you’re back in bed anyways and made your way out of the showers and making sure to lock the door behind you in the process.

~

“God fucking damnit.”

With shaking legs, you peered down at your husband post-orgasm from between your legs as he began searching through his discarded pants. A few choice words escaped his lips as he continued on with his search. It was so unlike the Captain to be this antsy but it was given in the situation at hand.

“What?” You asked, dazed still from your release with just his mouth. You felt the ache on your lips from biting too hard and trying and somewhat failing to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum.

“Condom.” He practically growled as he began to look around his room.

You blinked as his frustration was now in full force as he began to look around his room for another spare but no luck whatsoever.

“Just fuck me, John.” You whimpered, hand somehow finding their way towards your still too sensitive bud. Keeping yourself sated while you waited.

“But…”

“I’m on my pills, just fuck me already.” You were now practically demanding him at this point. “Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he dove right on top of you. Slotting himself in between your legs. He pulled you in for another searing kiss. Your arms and legs had immediately wrapped around him, urging him to finally fuck you but he was taking his sweet time—a time neither of you truly had with the night slowly fading into daylight.

“A fucking little menace you are, aren’t you?” He teased, grinding his pelvic bone against your nub. “Just so desperate for me are you?” He questioned, voice growling louder and instincts kicked in as you slapped your hand towards his mouth to quiet him down.

He did not like it one bit as he held both of your hands above your head.

“Did I fucking tell you to touch me, Pet?” He growled against your ears.

“John—you need to be quiet.” You whispered struggling to free from his hold.

“You don’t get to make orders here, Lieutenant.” He whispered against your ears, nipping at your lobe before his lips lingered against your cheeks and finding their way towards your lips but not truly kissing you. “Is that clear?”

“Yes.” You whimpered as his hips dug further into your core.

“Yes what, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Captain.” You squealed as he finally slipped right into you.

The aching sting even with him preparing you lingered through your entire body. It was always a task in on itself as he held onto you. One hand held onto your own up above your head and the other held onto your leg and pulling it up as high as you physically could.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He groaned. “Fucking tight.” He muttered.

Without another word, his moved his hips, a gruelingly slow but deep pace that had you gasping at each piston. Your legs held onto his waist for dear life and your teeth bit against your lips stopping from any noise from escaping.

You watched all the control leave from your husband’s body as his thrust had gotten sloppy.

“Please…” You pleaded, even when you truly didn’t know what you were even begging for right now. “Please. Please. Please.”

You felt it before you realize what was going on, the spurts painted your insides and the mind numbing shiver that wrecked from your toes up to your head. You moaned, louder than you would have wanted it to be but your husband was quick to silence you with his lips. Pulling you into him, swallowing every moans and every whimper as he continued on with thrusting inside of you.

Finally, your husband had let go of your hands, you winced as blood began flowing right back and the familiar tingling sensation seeped through. He pulled away, looking down at you in the all too familiar adoration that you felt the same for him. You were sated, blissed and thoroughly satisfied from the longing you felt for your husband.

“Are you broken?” John inquired.

A playful smile rested on your face, the context that it was a question he often asked after any of his team were put in a bad spot. It was his own little way of asking anyone and everyone if they were alright.

“Split open, but I’ll survive.” You respond,

He smiled, chuckling at your antics. Before a flip has switch and his hand held onto you pulling you up and turning you until you were on your hands and knees. Without even missing a beat or even allowing you to say anything, he plunged himself right back into you.

“Good.” He chuckled leaning close to your ears. “There’s still more where that came from.”

~

Breakfast in the mess hall was boring and you preferred it that way. Enjoying your tea and toast and jam in the peace of the table you shared with John, Gaz, and Simon was all you could ask for after the grueling night you had with your husband.

Even from the frequent sips of his coffee, you know he was just trying his best to hide the smirk playing on his face. Last night had been a blur after the third round for you. When your husband was on a mission, nothing could truly stop him from taking what he wants and what he needed from you, you were all the more willing to give it to him if he needed it.

But with that being said, you also knew the consequences of your actions. The ache between your legs and the sore throat you were nursing with your ginger tea. There was also the array of hickeys and bruises that painted your entire body and you did your best to hide as much as possible even in the sweltering heat.

The next time you would even think about sleeping with your husband is when you’re both done with your deployment. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Aye Price!”

You winced, the peace of your own filthy thoughts of last night was ruined by Soap’s booming voice taking most of everyone’s attention (some already used to his morning antics, decided to just ignore him). You looked up towards the Scot and paled at the all too familiar foil packet in his grasp.

“Saw this in front of your room last night. Hope the lucky lady you had in your room was fine being raw dogged for the night.”

You could feel the fury boil from where you sat. You had noticed both Simon and Gaz strategically move a little farther away from where the Captain sat but they had an all good view of the man as he stood and ordered Soap to run the entire base twenty times.

It pissed John even more was the fact that Soap wasn’t all that afraid with his punishment, cackling as he skipped out of the mess hall, the condom still in his hand for everyone to see. Soap would truly not let him live this down.

His eyes slowly turned to you and this time it was you who was trying your best to hide the smile as you took another generous sip of your tea.

The consequence of his own actions it seems.

[partiallysame]

Price’s lil Wife Poly!141

Price’s rules for the boys

- work and home are separate. He can not stress this enough. No call signs used in the house. No ghost mask (told Simon this the very first time he met you. No mask. Not now. Not ever)

- soap used “gaz” once and price made him run laps around the neighborhood (the other housewives loved it)

- No talking about any mission any op. Complaining about recruits or higher ups was allowed. Only can talk about what happened on base.

- The missus was kind and pure and he would not let the type of work they do reach her

- When it came to what could and could not be done physically that was fully up to you “stop asking me. It’s her bloody body for christs sake” after the thousandth awkward “can I please fuck The Missus tonight 👉🏻👈🏻”

- If you wanted one of them one night? Just fine. All of them one night? Also fine

- In fact most things in this new relationship were completely up to you. If they stayed/lived in extra rooms, what they called you, how often and how they got to touch you

- Other than the No Work rule the only other thing Price (tried) to put his foot down on was “if she sends you a voice message. Don’t. Fucking. Open. It. In. Public” well that just seems weird now doesn’t it? No lil Mrs price was a lil tease and now she has more men to mess with????

- Only a week or so in to this whole thing Johnny was the first to get one and did he forget or just choose to ignore Price’s rule? The world may never know but he pressed play (full volume bc men always have their volume up for no reason) and the sweet sounds of you moaning his name played so fucking loud in the grocery store. The rest of the boys made the same mistake. Price tried to warn them, he really did.

[yeyinde]

18+ | noncon, blackmail, misogyny (amen)

But I need John Price blackmailing and noncon'ing the little rookie who looks up to him as a leader, a protector, and as a pseudo father figure.

Especially older Price. A few years out from retirement. Grizzled. Surly.

He's just such an iconoclast to me. Probably sniffs out the daddy issues and your burgeoning hero worship almost immediately when you shuffle into his office, eager to work under him. To prove yourself. He's made quite a legacy for himself, after all. Does his own thing. His own way. And after years of gruelling training and being crushed under the heel of chauvinistic pigs your whole life who see you as nothing but a burden that needs to be taught a lesson, you're excited for someone to finally see your worth.

And he does.

(Barefoot. Pregnant. Making sure dinner is on the table when he comes home from work.)

And since you're so set on worshipping him as the stable, male figurehead you've never had, he'll make sure to keep you on your knees. He'll even let you call him dad while you do it.

(Then when he's had his fill of you sucking his cock under his desk, he'll have you sign that resignation letter he drafted after you popped your head into the doorway, stars in your eyes, and addressed him so prettily as sir before letting you make him the father you so desperately want.)

[teddypines]

Desk Job

---------------------------------------------

Summary: Y/N giving John a surprise vist as she waits for her pie to be done. John doing his hobby. Retired/Pstar!Price x Wifey!Reader. Fem!Reader, no age gap.

Part 1

MDNI! 18+ if you do read it i'm not responsible.

Warnings: Blow job / hand job, teasing, swearing, ball sucking, edging(?), orgasm denial. Recording audio of smut.

Note: I really liked the first Retired/Pstar!Price fic so here is more! Other fic's wil be uploaded soon and thanks for all the support!

Words: 992

Picture/art found on Tumblr, made by @shkretart

----------------------------------------------

Price was working, aka making an audio for his spicy channel, and Y/N knew that. She didn’t mind it all that much, it meant she had time for herself. Do little experiments of her own, today it was cherry pie and a new slow cooker recipe. The only problem now was that she was finished before John. Dinner was in the slow cooker and the pie was still in the oven. Y/N hated it when she was done with her things and John was still busy and she had to wait for him. So like a good Wifey she was going to give him a little visit.

Y/N put a timer on her phone so she wouldn’t forget her cherry pie. Then she quietly walked up the stairs to John’s office. She could hear John sweet talking to the microphone and some small whimpers. This meant he was still busy and wearing his headphones, so if she was extra quiet she could go unnoticed. She sneaked up to John’s office door and with both hands opened it ever so slowly to prevent any noise the door could make.

There he sat in all his glory, John with his eyes closed, headphones on and a jerk off toy around his cock. Y/N bit her bottom lip at the sight, the toy going slowly up and down as John talked dirty to the microphone. If she wanted she could just stay by the door and watch everything play out, But Y/N was craving more than watching. With small steps, and leaving the door open, Y/N walked behind John and slowly got down on her knees to get underneath his desk. God he looked even better from underneath the desk.

John on the other hand didn’t notice anything. He was stuck in his own world, thinking of Wifey while making some pretty noises for his fans. “OWh fuck baby, just like that, just like fucking that, such a pretty mouth and all for me.” He grunts as he deep throats the toy. Still imagining it to be Wifey’s throat. “Good girl, taking that big cock all the way down that pretty throat. choking on such a big cock. Getting you all wet doesn’t it? My little slut getting all wet because of a monster cock.” Y/N tried to hold back as she listened to John talk dirty. She knew he was thinking about her.

This went on for some time, John jerking off and Y/N watching him. Y/N knew she was wet and needy for her husband, but it was just so sweet to watch John like this. Eventually Y/N reached out to John’s thighs and ran them up and down before quickly taking John’s hand. Forcing him to take the toy off his cock before wrapping her own mouth around him. John gasped in surprise when he felt his wife’s lips around his tip. “Fuck… agh… Fuck…” John groaned, his mind going blank, forgetting the story he was recording. “Fuck baby… W-what are you doing?” He asked, barely. Y/N let go off John’s cock with a little pop and smiled up at him. “Wanted to spend time with my hubby. Wanted to make him feel good.” Was the answer John got, Wifey’s hand gently rubbing up and down his thigh.

Y/N giggled as she heard John’s groan, so she just wrapped her lips back around his cock. Working on giving John the best blowjob he had in a while, since yesterday. John could only moan and groan as Wifey worked him to his peak. “Shit! Shit! Baby, yes! Just like that!” Y/N knew John was close when he started to whine, but his Wifey was mean and pulled away. Her hands wrapped around his cock really gently, almost like she wasn’t even touching him. 

“Jesus fucking christ, love, don’t do this to me.” John let out between a breathy groan. Wifey’s hands were like magic as she slowly pumped him. John was finally getting used to it when suddenly she wrapped her lips around his balls. He hissed at the gentle sucking on his balls. “Love, stop, I'm gonna ruin your hair.” He warned, only to be ignored. Wifey gave John’s balls a harder suck making John hiss again. “Okay, okay, fuck!” 

John was getting closer and closer to his orgasm, Wifey knew this, and the microphone was still picking up everything, still recording. John was almost there when Y/N’s phone went off, surprising both of them. Y/N quickly let go of John’s cock and turned off her phone. “Pie is done!” She announced happily. She patted John’s thigh and got out from underneath his desk. “Better take it out now.” She said before kissing John’s cheek. “Love you.” 

With a shocked expression John watched his Wifey leave his office. His cock harder than ever, acing almost painfully. “Fuck!” He cursed while running a hand over his face. Then he saw that the mic was still on. "Double fuck!”

—----------------------------------------

The audio story the fans got was titled ‘Wifey being mean (A story of a monster losing control)’. John did edit a few things about the story in the beginning, but left it mostly as is. He didn’t even finish the audio with an orgasm at the end. John was however very lucky with the cherry pie he got that night and he got a bigger orgasm that night while they were getting ready for bed. 

[lostintransist]

The Price is Wife | Part 2

Part one here *Part one includes ace!wife!reader coming home to find John has brought home a boyfriend and packs a bag to spend the night at a hotel because why would John need a wife if he has a boyfriend???

Tear stains on your cheeks led to a cool washcloth on your face before packing all of your clothes back into your luggage. You didn't know if you would be able to book this same room for another few nights.

Digging your nails into the palm of the other hand you focus on breathing. The bright color on your nails makes you think of John. Fuck. He had paid for this set. Dammit all and beyond, you didn't want your marriage to end. You love John, he had to be one of your best friends. With a little wine in your glass you would even call him your soul mate. He would laugh and lay a kiss at your cheek, thanking you for the honor.

You loved that man so much you couldn't, wouldn't, stand in his way of being truly happy. John longed for more physical affection than either of you was comfortable with. You knew that John would thrive under the kisses of his boyfriend. Guess you would request a transfer at work and file uncontested.

Halting those thoughts before you started sobbing again you flap your hands at your face to keep your eyes from leaking. Your makeup was done lightly today, knowing you would be crying most of it off in John's office after work despite the setting spray.

Three meetings. That is all you had to get through today. You could buy yourself comfort food on the way to the hotel. Might even splurge and rent an overpriced movie. Yeah. That sounded like a plan.

First meeting drags, sending the following two into overtime and you to missing lunch and clocking out an hour later than you originally planned. The idea of putting food in your face makes you nauseus. Any food will taste like sawdust right now.

The first person to notice something is wrong is the gate officer. Office Madida had been letting you on and off base for a few years now. The man's bright smile fit so neatly on his dark skin that to see him without one would almost signal the end of the world.

"Ah! Mrs. Price, here to see your husband?"

Offering a wan smile you nod, "I'm a bit late. Would you call his office to let him know I'm here?"

"Of course! Give me a moment," Madida grabs the phone from its cradle and punches in a series of numbers. He looks you over smile slipping as he takes in the whole of you. "You doing alright Mrs. Price?"

The title slices at you. It won't be yours for to much longer. Your wan smile is now watery.

"Not really, but I appreciate you noticing."

He holds up a finger as he speaks into the phone. "Yeah, I've got Mrs. Price at the gate. She's asking that Captain Price can meet at his office?" He lifts a brow at you to confirm. At your nod he continues, "I'll send her in now. No, she won't need an escort she's been visiting her husband for nearly a decade."

Fuck a duck, your next anniversry would be ten wouldn't it? A hiccuping sob bursts past your lips. The hand you slap to your mouth doesn't prevent Officer Madida's sharp look as he hangs up the phone.

"Go and park Mrs. Price. Give me five minutes to get a replacement out here and I will walk with you."

You do as commanded, tears streaking down your face as you settle the car into park. Madida opens the door and reaches in to turn off the engine when he arrives. Thankfully you have nearly sobbed yourself out when he arrives. He walks close to you, deference and defense in his body language.

Officer Madida leaves you after John's voice rings out at your knock. Stepping into his office feels like the first time you did it. Two weeks after you had gotten married. He introduced you around the base, proud to show off his new wife. The same drab brown covered the walls, a blanket you had crocheted him for your first wedding anniversery lay across the couch he kept for naps. The only real change in the room had to be the drawn look across John's face.

For a man who should have been happy to lose a wife and gain a husband he looked dreadful. Deep eye bags and his unkempt beard tell of a hard night. Maybe has hard as yours.

John rose slowly as you shut the door behind you. His eyes searched yours.

"Are you ready to talk now?" The gravel in his voice stings as if you were flung across it.

The lip quiver starts first. "What is there to talk about John? Why would you me when you have a boyfriend now? We are friends who sometimes kiss and share tax benefits and a flat. That's not much compared to someone who can love you the way you deserve and fills your needs and your bed."

Tightening your nails into your palms and your arms around your ribs you watch your husband round his desk. John's broad hands settle on you, one at your face and the other one your elbow. Your eyelids drift closed at the familiar, safe touch.

"Why would I want to trade one love for another?" John whispers, voice breaking.

Lifting a hand to lay across the one on your face you open your eyes and match his tear filled gaze.

"I can't see your boyfriend being okay with you keeping a wife. I can't be the reason you don't get to be happy."

John's hand slide around to the back of you, pulling you into a hug.

"The first thing I did," John spoke into your ear, "When Nik kissed me out of the blue was tell him about my wife. The woman who holds me as I cry and pokes fun at me until we both laugh. My best friend, my soul mate. I told him about our arrangement, and how anything with him could not hurt what I have with you. You're allowed to be selfish."

You are sobbing now, wrinkling John's shirt with your tears and your grip. Selfish isn't something you have ever been allowed to be. Asking for your parents to show up to important dates in school, graduation, etc were always met with cries of being selfish. Your sibling had an event that day already, or they had a work event. John had been the first to put your first.

Being put aside so often by those that claimed to love you it only made sense to step aside before John could do the same.

"No I'm not. Selfish is always the word people use to say I am asking for to much." Sobbing harder the past pains work their way out through your grip on your husband. "Why didn't you tell me John? I would have understood. I want you to be able to be loved the way you deserve."

"Honestly?" He chuckled a bit, "I was so excited for the two of you two meet that I didn't think it through."

Pulling back from John you give him a look he is expressly familiar with. Sometimes your brilliant, SAS-trained, Air Force Captian was dumber than a box of rocks. At this point, you chalked it up to a function of testosterone.

"You forgot to tell your wife that you were bringing your boyfriend home?" The deadpan delivery has John's ears pinking up.

"Nik also called me an idiot after I explained that you were heading to a hotel for the night. He was looking forward to meeting you. If you're okay with it he is probably outside the office waiting to talk to you," John gives you the softest of smiles.

There is a light knock at the door.

"I want you both, and if there is anything you need from me to keep both of you I will do anything to make that happen." John speaks with the seriousness that made you believe he would fight god and win.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips John opens the door to his lover. Nik observes you with a cool indifference. The deepening wrinkles around his eyes tell you he might also be nervous.

"Would you like to see my helicopter?" His accent is thicker today than when he introduced himself last night.

You nod, and John offers your hand to his boyfriend. Nik takes your hand, tucking it into the corner of his elbow as the two of you wander further onto base. Passing no one on your way neither of you is ready to break the silence.

Leaving the building behind both you and Nik take a deep breath. Glancing at him you find Nik looking at your already. Both of you laugh out your big breath of air.

"I hate being in the base buildings for too long. Makes my skin itch," you offer.

"I dislike all the brown," Nik replies in return.

"What did John tell you?" You broach the subject first.

"He told me of his wife. Of her kindness, her self sacrificing ways, of the kisses you share, and the happiness that fills him up so much that I fell in love with coming from you."

No change in his tone or side glance at you. The feet attached to your body would have been rooted to the ground if Nik did not keep careful pressure on your hand, pulling you forward to the helicopter now within sight.

The ache in your chest that had started last night when John called Nik his boyfriend flared to life again, an improperly cared for fire.

"First thing you will need to learn," you cover your mouth with a hand, "Is that you can't say nice things like that to me. I cry if you are to nice to me and you are in love with John so you don't want to comfort his wife."

Nik blinks at you slowly, observing. He gives no inclination as to what he saw but lets your hand fall as you reach his helo. He opens the side door and invites you to sit down with a pat of his hand. Sitting next to you Nik does not say anything for a long time. Swinging your feet you prod at your emotions until you can parse them out enough for words. Your palms wear patterns up and down the thighs of your pants.

"I don't want to lose him, Nik. But he deserves to be happy and I know he will be happy with you. He's talked about you before, for years now, I just never realized he liked you more than as a friend. A word from you and I will file the paperwork today. It's an odd agreement between us. I knew it would end for him one day when he found someone to love and love him in return." Your voice breaks as you fight back the sobs. As if the cliffs could fight back a storm.

He pulls your hand from your lap, threading his wide fingers between yours. Hair dots his knuckes. He does not offer platitudes, or unfounded words, simply holds your hand as you weep.

"You love John. I also love John. Part of the love John carries is for you alone, and it would shatter him to lose you," Nik pauses until your sobbing has slowed enough to hear him again. "Give us a chance to learn to love each other, as friends and as those who love the idiot that is John Price."

Someone else calling John an idiot sparked a bark of laughter.

"I would love to learn to love you Nik," squeezing his fingers tight in yours you stand.

Nik joins you. Releasing his hand from yours he settles both against your face. Placing a kiss to one cheek and then the other, he finally places a kiss on your lips. The two of you share a smile and a nod of understanding. This would be a time of transition and of growth, but you both loved John enough to make room for the other.

The kiss Nik pressed to your lips did not go unobserved. Kyle, with a twisted and complicated relationship of his own he kept under wraps, saw Nik kiss John's wife. Turning and sprinting across the base he found his lovers, Simon and Johnny, reviewing paperwork from their last mission.

"Nikoli is a fucking homewrecker and is trying to get with Mrs. Price!"

That brought all work to a hard standstill.

Masterlist

[spurbleu]

oldman!price x reader angsty (?) drabble

‧︎✳︎༚︎‧︎⁎︎°︎

age leaves john price in tantrum.

he despises what it’s done to his body. the creak in his knees when he walks, the strain in his shoulder when he reaches across the table. steam engine, ironclad and coal hot, neglected the rust on the belly of its stirrups. adopted a sudden fragility he cannot stand.

takes a literal force of nature to get him to retire, and he grieves it like a father. it, in all honesty, was one. taught him how to shoot straight, how to hold his men, how to be without feeling like he’s an imposter in his own skin. forced him to grow up- which is ironically exactly what ended their alliance.

nursed whiskeys, fattened ice kissing the base. smoked like somehow- fossilized in ligero- he’d find his youth again. blistered under reluctant mortality, indulged in fatal vices because if anything is putting him in the grave it’s a gun or a cigar.

a pot never boils watched, yet you stay at your designated post by the doorway while he broods (he’s a dramatic at heart), storm clouds stamped on the collapse of his shoulders.

if you were one of his soldiers, you let him fester.

but you were his wife.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t aged yourself, silver linings sprouting from your scalp, sun spots and bleached knuckles. even so, you found time to pick up his medications, comb through amateur food blogs for gut health and bone pain, roll the aches out of his shoulder before bed. you were kind- and it was insulting.

spitfire catching on the burs of his muttonchops- unfamiliar with dependence. he was a captain for Christ’s sake- alloy lighthouse, built by cement and sheer fucking will. he didn’t need to be hand fed vitamin C and dragged to yoga class. he pitched barbed wire, dug his shallow trench and intended lay in it.

until, one evening, thunder strikes him out of dewy acrimony. he clambers up the stairs, musk of tobacco and spite plants a grimy boot in the oak. he glances over the railing, and stills.

bathroom door, cutting swaddled atmosphere with thin bisque, a pyramid down the center of the hall that created the illusion of darker corners. centered in the odd, domestic scaffolding was you- shower damp and concentrated.

it was like watching a bird preen feathers. tugging at the sags, yanking at the silvers, skin pitching at the nostril and eyes narrowing into thin keyways. and if he squinted, sniper accuracy rendered tears. sallow river bed on your flushed cheeks, clumped lashes, a frown that broke hearts.

“you’re never struggling alone, John,” you had said one evening, when he had been foolishly apathetic, “i’ll make sure of that.”

he hadn’t said anything.

guilt squirms at the base of his neck. the stranger named comfort that swelled within your embrace unnerved him so much he had forgotten to introduce himself. and now, milking moonlit lighting, with a wife who thought he was hiding from her, he called himself what he had never been as a soldier.

a coward.

you were making tea the next morning, windows surrendering a warmth when the day was still docile. it was while you were humming that your husband, sneaky bastard, folds you into the plush of his chest, drowsy lips dragging on the cusp of your shoulder.

“you always look so beautiful in the mornin, darlin.”

and it was true. you’ve never looked better to the old man.

[oceantornadoo]

price’s secret wife…just some comfort and fluff tbh

john heard a small knock, then the sound of his door being opened slowly, as if not to disturb. he tried to quell the adrenaline rush in his body, the need to tackle an incoming threat. it could only be one person, the one person he kept his door unlocked for.

there you were, his old oversized tshirt and boxers serving as your pajamas. you only wore them when you needed comfort, and when you were off duty. you were the one concerned with how it would look to the other soldiers on base, a female officer wearing her coworker’s name on the back of her shirt. if only they knew it was your legal name too. you perched comfortably on his bed, too tired to properly acknowledge him. he turned off his desk light, abandoning his paperwork in favor of his wife. his first and only priority. john sat next to you, spreading his thighs to make his lap bigger as he left his hands at his sides. he knew you like the back of his hand, knew you needed to sit in silence sometimes. you drained your social battery all day, giving out orders and dealing with subordinates. john was your rock, your lighthouse in the sea of duty. you leaned your head on his shoulder, the top of it scratching his beard. he leaned his on top of yours, taking your calloused hand into his own. he traced the lines of your palm slowly, pressing slightly to massage it. you hummed and he placed a kiss on your head, glad you were warming up out of your trance. “john…” you whispered, tucking your chin. “love?” he was a bit worried now. you still hadn’t looked at him.

your hand left his in favor of his shoulder as you turned your body to straddle him, your favorite seat in the world. you crossed your legs around him as you tucked your head into his neck, your hands exploring the taut muscles of his back. “hi baby.” you said into his neck, placing a kiss into the juncture of his neck, where his beard met smooth skin. his hands finally settled on your waist, massaging the skin there. “rough day?” you nuzzled further into him, giving him small nods as you tried to disappear into your husband and his comforting touch, “lost our target. set us back 3 months.” he hummed thoughtfully, his right hand leaving your waist as he threaded his fingers into your hair. his thumbs pressed against your scalp as you let out a small moan, becoming putty in his hands.

“‘s not your fault.”

“i know. still feels like it.”

“i know.”

the silence was comfortable, a warm blanket on a rainy day. your husband was a strong man, always strong for his task force, for the duty required of him. he hid it well, disarming with his muttonchops and fatherly nature, but there was stone under him, a fortress. with you, though, he was just a man with his wife. selfishly indulgent and unselfishly caring, open in only places you could reach.

“when are we retiring? getting that cottage where we always talked about.” he let out a small chuckle, kissing the crown of your head as he maneuvered to tuck you both in bed for the night. “whenever you want. you’re the one who keeps holding out.” he slipped you both under the covers. powerful arms able to keep you around him as he moved the blankets out of your way. “i know. seems like there’s always another mission. always another need to save the world.” his closeness wore you down, honesty running out of you like a faucet.

“what about our world? where we’re just husband and wife?” you hummed thoughtfully. john price was a man of duty, of loyalty, but at the end of the day, he had a man’s wants and needs. all he needed was you, safe, with him. “soon, baby. soon.” you weren’t lying. the next mission was your last. you needed him to yourself too much to pretend anymore. john was laying down now, your leg thrown over his legs as you spread your arms on his chest. “i love you.” you said into the darkness, eyes already closing at the comforting scent of his sheet detergent. “love you to the stars, sweetheart.” john price found elusive, peaceful sleep, comforted by your touch again.

—

are there two captains on the same base? i don’t care!

my first time writing price…tried to show his maturity without giving grandpa lol

[islayhawkin]

It's from her

Captain John price x fem!reader

Summary: The task force learns that john's beanie holds way more importance to him than it should

Warnings!: sad and vulnerable john, prob ooc, not edited

Leaving for a mission was always hard. He knew that you struggled immensly with it and while he never showed it, it took it's toll on him too.

To leave you behind. Knowing that you had a hard time because of him.

To have the mission ahead of him. The knowledge that he'd be away for weeks or even months on end. The contact to you was rare and it took a lot of effort for him to be able to have a phone call or receive a letter from you. He always worried. While he was the one fighting for his life, there was always a part of his mind that thought about how you were doing, if something happened, if you needed him...The constant uncertainty was driving him on edge sometimes.

And he missed you. Oh, how he missed you. He spent so many lonely nights in his tent or a safe house imagining you beside him while the snores of his comrades filled his ears.

John clung to the few things he had with him that were you. One of them being his hat.

It was one of the first things he got from you. You had knitted the beanie when you first moved in together. Every evening when you two had cuddled up on the couch, the TV playing, you had knitted. He had seen it develop and it was the most calming sound to him, whenever he heard your needles clicking softly against each other. Not until you finished the hat had he been aware that you made it for him.

"Here. I made this for you." You had smiled at him proudly as you handed over the dark-knitted beanie.

It was nothing special and with closer inspection, a few mistakes could be sighted but for john it meant the world. At first, he had struggled to even think of a response as he gripped the soft fabric in his rough hands.

"I know you always like to have something on your head and I thought that would keep you warm when you're in a cold area..." you had muttered out your explanation.

"thank you." He had replied quietly. The love and astonishment had been evident in his expression.

There were times when he thought back to that moment and wished he had said more. That he would've been able to express what it meant to him. But you knew without him saying so. It was clear in his actions.

It was endearing how he still took it on every mission after all these years.

The 141 started to notice it's importance to him when he couldn't find it at base. His usual calm demeanor was slightly irritable and underlined by the strong walk as he barged into the common room as if he were on a mission to save the queen.

"Does any of you shitheads have my hat?" His deep voice made the whole room go quiet.

Soap and ghost exchanged glances. "Got no reason to steal your hat captain." Ghost grumbled out.

John clenched and unclenched his fists multiple times. The muscle in his jaw tightened. "You'll have no problem then if I check your rooms lieutenant." There were some unspoken words between them as two pairs of hard eyes met each other.

"No problem." Ghost replied.

Price took a look around the room before giving them a nod and leaving for their private quarters.

"What's wrong with him?" Gaz leaned over the table to his comrades.

"No bloody idea. Probably got his period." Ghost grumbled.

Price rummaged through room after room methodically. The drawers and cabinets were thrown open and closed softly after close inspection. He muttered a few annoyed curses when he arrived at soap's room: the drawers were already opened but his clothes were probably more scattered over the floor room than in his closet. Room inspections were obviously in dire need of attention.

When he made it to Gaz's room the hat was the first thing his eyes spotted as he opened the door. There it was. slightly frizzy and worn at the edges but still looking soft the way it always did. Except that it didn't lay at its usual spot in his neatly organized closet.

"Can't keep their bloody hands to their own stuff." John grumbled.

The tension fell from his body as he picked the beanie up and took it back to his room. He laid it back to the dedicated spot with a scarf next to it. His eyes observed how it seemed to lay so innocently in front of him. A tired sigh escaped his lips before he pushed himself into an upright position and locked the door to his room for good measure.

In the next moment he dragged gaz out of his chair pressed him against the wall. Johns hand clasped the collar of gazs uniform. While gaz grunted from the impact of his captains weight against him, his face stayed nonchalant. If you knew him better you'd seen the small sliver of nervousness in his eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my stuff?" Price gritted out.

"I didn't take anything from you sir." Gaz shot back almost angrily at the accusation.

"You think that's funny huh?" John sneered. It was unusual for the captain to throw angry words at his team. He was always the composed one; giving them a sense of confidence and security in the battlefield.

"No sir."

"Hmhm. I found something in your quarters. My goddamn hat on top of your closet."

Gaz frowned. "Captain I didn't- sir I don't know anything about that."

Price grunted in frustration before ghost stepped to them and slightly pulled the captain back. "Take it easy cap."

John let himself fall back before pointing a warning finger at the young sergeant. "Just keep your hands off of my things. Especially that hat. Got it?"

Gaz gave him a nod but he didn't back down from his position as innocent. The air was tense as everyone watched the ongoing confrontation.

Ghost gave his captain a look which held john back made him leave the room back to his own office (where he should've worked for the last hour). The lieutenant followed him out as if to escort him. "Why are ya followin' me simon?"

Ghost was about to protest about his name choice but decided there were more important matters at hand right now.

"I figured you'd want to tell me what's going on?" The deep voice came from behind the mask.

Price stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms while shifting his weight onto his toes. "What?"

While price was a tall and muscular man he had no chance against the build of ghost as he towered opposite of him.

"You're going wild over a damn hat for no reason." His tone sounded almost bored.

"It's not just a bloody hat!" John's jaw clicked.

Ghost scoffed. "Then what is this about?"

"With all due respect lieutenant, you wouldn't understand."

That was it. It was never brought up again until a few months later on a mission at the Russian border.

A small safe house offered them shelter before they took off for the next day.

The night was a troubled one. Everyone was anxious and tired, which was a dangerous mix of feelings in a group of men. But they were trained for this. Keeping one eye and ear open constantly; without pause. This was the requirement to survival.

John took the night shift after Ghost woke him up out of a rather unpleasant dream. Everything was quiet except for a few night animals chirping in the forest surrounding them. The sun already brought a bit of light through the windows.

He sat down against a pillar and rubbed his exhausted eyes with his calloused palms. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he took the gun into his hand and let his head lull back against the wood.

The last few months had been rough. The 141 was on this mission since almost two months now and it felt like they didn't get any closer to their target. For john it meant two months without you. No call, no letter, nothing. For all he knew you could be laying in bed with another guy right now. He couldn't blame you. No, what was he thinking. That was a riddiculous thought. He grunted quietly as he rubbed a hand over his beard. John definately needed sleep.

His beard and hair had grown out over the time, which made him think of the way you'd sit him on the toilet lid and step between his legs to shave his beard for him. You never realised how that position made it quite impossible for him to relax under your intense stare. He smiled at the memory and simultaneously hope that he'd be able to be in that position soon again.

The nightmare had made him unpleasantly agitated and worried. John just hoped, prayed and begged Laswell to make sure that you were okay.

A few hours later the sun started to rise above the horizon, which brought john his clue to wake everyone up and get going for the day ahead. When everybody was checked and price paced slowly in front of the group to explain the plan his voice got stuck in his throat. He had been telling them that they would be making their way into the snowy area as your voice made it's way into his thoughts.

'to keep you warm in colder regions.' you had said with that sweet smile when you gave him his hat.

The hat.

He didn't have his beanie on. It got soaked through yesterday and he took it off to dry. But they had checked the whole safehouse already, ready for departure.

"My hat. Has anyone seen it?" he questioned the group of men standing before him. They looked stunned at his sudden change of topic.

When they didn't answer he started walking up the stairs. Frantically going through the rooms again. Soap went with a nod to the others after him. "Capt'n. We're ready for departure. None of us saw yer hat."

John shook his head. "Not without it." He searched the drawers in the room even though he knew it couldn't be there. His expression was stoic and unreadable but there were emotions behind those blue eyes.

They gave him a few minutes but when he didn't make a move to get on with it ghost shouted up the stairs. "Cap we have a schedule remember?" It sounded slightly irritated coming from behind the mask.

"I said I'm not going without it!" John thundered back.

He couldn't leave without it. It felt like leaving you behind. It was irrational and stupid and the hat was going to cost him his goddamn life someday but... he needed it. That feeling couldn't be explained with rationality or tactic. you would have described it as love. But john would rather name it desperation.

"It's just a bloody hat. We need to get going." Ghost came up beside him.

"It's not. It's from her." John pulled his lips in a thin line as he exhaled through his nose sharply. The room went quiet for a moment at his admission.

Ghosts expression stayed emotionless as he crossed his bulky arms over his chest.

"Yer bonnie wife?" soap asked for clarification.

John nodded sharply and but turned away quickly from the pair when soap raised a brow.

"Honestly dinna know yer were married to her until a few weeks back. I'm sure ye'll survive a week without the hat and see yer lass soon hm?"

Ghost grunted in frustration. "Seriously? That's been the reason for this bloody hat."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. When you're married we can have this conversation." John shot back at his lieutenant. His voice thick with accent and a deep grumbling from the throat.

Soap got between them before Ghost had the chance to respond. "So we ready to go then? Captain?"

John pursed his lips and it pained him to go through with it but he shut off his emotions like he so often did and gave them a stern nod. He started to talk about their upcoming task again as he took the lead once more.

When he got home to you a week later he couldn't hold back a few tears in his eyes when you presented him a new, more colourful beanie, that you made when he was gone. And to his delight you ushered him into the bathroom to shave him first thing in the morning.

The task force never dared to touch his hat again.