#captain john price x y/n | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

msilwrites · 29 days ago

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The Catfish

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

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

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

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

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

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

John Price.

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

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

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

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

Let’s meet.

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

So you end it.

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

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

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

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

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

But you were wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he knows how to find you.

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

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

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

And he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

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

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

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

Then, his eyes locked onto it.

The Royal College of Music. The concert hall.

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

But that wouldn’t stop him.

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

It wasn’t coincidence.

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

And then, something clicked.

The playlist. The songs. The name.

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

Your LinkedIn.

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

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

You were closer than he thought.

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

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

And now, he knew exactly who you were.

This wasn't over. Far from it.

It was just the beginning.

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You almost didn’t go out tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

And for tonight, you could pretend, too.

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

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

And then—

A shadow passed over your table.

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

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

"Hello, Birdie."

Your blood ran cold.

John Price.

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

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

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

But he did.

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

For you.

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

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thisfanisgonesorry · 1 year ago

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obsessed — john price ft. 141

kinktober day 1: public sex (w/ ale, rudy, gaz, soap + ghost)

posting this prematurely because someone brought me cod vault and i need to suck them off

tags: public sex (exhibition, shocker), orgasm denial, light panty stuff, creampie, claiming, all that good good, light homoeroticism, gaz is a funny guy idc, accidental soap bashing rofl

☆

“This is what happens when you eye up my girl.” He started, speaking sternly, his hand wrapped possessively around my waist as I wore the most revealing outfit I owned at his command; he grabbed one hand and spun me around with a soft grin on his face, dancing me around as a ‘humble’ brag.

The soldiers surrounding him seemed uneasy by the unknown. They were afraid of their ‘punishment’, most of them quickly averted their eyes from the outfit that left not a lot to the imagination.

I took my seat on the coffee table in his quarters. The lads were conned into coming over for something considerably less crude, something or other to do with catching up and drinks, implied by the glasses of whiskey with melting ice and the calmness increasingly leaving the atmosphere. The Captain took a slow stroke of my hair, his hand cupping my cheek and angling my face to look up at him. The men sat there uncomfortably, knowing that they’d be unable to leave until they were officially dismissed.

“She’s just so gorgeous, ain’t she?” He hummed.

The room was filled with a dreaded silence, and they all hesitated to respond, exchanging glances in an attempt to figure out what the correct answer was.

“I asked something.” He snapped. “Come on, haven’t got all fuckin’ day.”

“Yes.” Simon responded with a nod, gesturing to the others with command on what he felt was the right way to go about this tricky situation. “She is gorgeous.”

“Yeah, what he said.” They began to agree in unison, hoping that the Ghost would guide them out of this since it was like walking through a minefield, though some would agree that a minefield would be less stressful.

Price furrowed his eyebrows, circling around the coffee table like a hawk, attempting to intimidate the men. “How gorgeous?” He spoke to the Sergeants, avoiding Simon’s gaze as he attempted to weasel the group out of Price’s game. He knew that Simon was figuring it out quickly, almost too quickly.

Simon and Mactavish, who seemingly shared a glance, attempting to connect dots. Soap silently spoke to his Lieutenant, airing his suspicions, and Simon responded with a ‘down, boy’ as they both realised what was actually happening, Soap deduced it quickly, and the other was afraid to be incorrect in his assumptions, not airing it aloud until it was certain, though their mutual conclusion made them both more confident in their chances of being correct.

Alejandro and Rodolfo shared a knowing glance also, lowering their voices and dipping their heads as they had their own private discussion. “¿Estás bromeando? ¿Qué decimos?”, “No lo sé, hace cosas raras.” They quickly spoke as the others shrunk under Price’s gaze, his back to them as he paid little attention to their conversation. “Tal vez deberíamos habernos quedado en México.” They mutually agreed.

“Most gorgeous I’ve ever seen.” Soap spoke up, using his Lieutenants guidance. Mactavish knew that if his Lieutenant thought it was the right thing to do, especially when it comes to Price, it most likely was.

“Maybe too gorgeous..” Kyle snickered to himself with implication, trying to relieve the tension in the air. Everyone was afraid of whatever the Captain was planning — and Kyle was the only one willing to test him despite his respect for him. He was, for the most part, in the know but he hadn’t put it together the same way that Riley and Mactavish did.

Captain Price and Kyle shared a knowing look, and John knew that he’d been figured out by enough of them that he could push forward.

“Baby..” He cooed, turning me to face him again, grabbing my face harshly and making me look at Kyle, his other hand drifted down to the bottom of the skimpy shirt, lifting it up slowly, letting it bunch up above my chest. “Show them your pretty tits.”

His hands palmed at the lace bra, a smug look plastered on his face as the other men were unsure how to respond. Their faces flushed with nervousness, unsure if they should be watching or not, though as the scene progressed, they were more comfortable in their shamelessness.

“Lo retiro. Me gusta aquí en Estados Unidos.”

“Hold up your skirt for me.” John spoke again, I followed his instructions and he spread my legs. He turned his head to face the other men. “Any of you lads wanna see how wet her cunt is?”

Kyle tries to stand up from his seat, his intentions not entirely clear, though Rudy and Alejandro grab him and pull him back down quickly, not patient enough to deal with his practical jokes and firmly held him in place. Price knew Simon wouldn’t volunteer on his own, so he raised his eyebrow at Mactavish. He squinted back, and John gave a slight smirk. He manhandled me, swerving my body around so my spread legs faced the iconic duo, though the small couch meant they all got the perfect view

Their eyes were glued at the wet patch forming on the white panties.

“Mierda.” Alejandro choked out. “Joder, Rudy—”

“Justo contigo.”

Simon was entranced, but was the only one able to drag his eyes away from the view, even if only momentarily. “Captain..” He started. “Could I ask.. What’s the damn point of this?”

“The point?” He questioned, positioning himself on the table behind me, letting the boys get an amicable view of the woman he was graciously claiming in front of their eyes. His hands continued to palm at my bra, he was greedy with want, ‘subtly’ displaying his intent.

“What’re you trying to get at?”

He smirked, one of his hands falling down and rubbing at the wetness. “Like you can’t figure that out?” He shrugged, slipping his fingers under the waistband and sliding in with ease. “You must think I’m stupid, I know how you all act, you want ‘er for yourselves.”

His words were met with awkward silence which worked as an admission of guilt. He had a smug grin, knowing he’d caught them red handed, and they processed what this truly meant. My face flushed red, turning my head to the side and biting my lip as the eyes on my body doubled in size, even Simon was getting some form of enjoyment out of it. It was arousing, yet I couldn’t help but attempt to restrain myself.

“Why so shy, baby girl?”

“Mhm, they’re watching.” I mumbled back, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the men despite the temptation.

“That’s the point.” He whispered, leaning in to press a kiss into my neck, letting his beard scratch at my nape. He began moving his hands more graciously, speaking sweetly and planning deviously. “C’mon, moan for me, princess. Put on a show.”

“Ah, fuck, John—” I moaned out.

“That’s cruel.” Mactavish commented with a grim expression.

“Keep goin’, princess.” He laughed softly, making me squirm under his fingers. “Want me to take your panties off? Show ‘em how your cunt clenches around my fingers?”

“Por favor.” Alejandro and Rodolfo pleaded in mutual agreeance once again. “Por favor buena coño. muéstranos?”

“You’re sick, Price.” Simon spoke, though his eyes didn’t leave the conjoinance. John, the other one, simply frowned, knowing he had to hear the sweet sounds of his name being moaned, and yet it’s not even for him. Both duos simply held their breaths, trying to keep their cool, the other man was unreadable, letting the lust behind his eyes be the only emotion he displayed, he respected Price, but there’s only so much strength a man could hold.

“You’re sick.” John spoke firmly. “Thinkin’ about my girl like this, just givin’ you what you want.” He spat. “Watching you’s get hard in y’fuckin’ pants at the sight.”

“Like it’s our fault?” Mactavish spat back.

“John—”

“Like that!” He growled. “You think I’m not meant to find that fuckin’ sexy?”

“Oi, settle.” Simon interrupted with a demanding bark.

Price furrowed his eyebrows, retracting his fingers and smearing the slickness onto my thigh, letting it glimmer under the dim light. He lifted my hips enough for him to slide the panties off, tossing them at the jealous Sergeant.

“He’s right, you know?” Kyle spoke up, knowing better than to get aggressive when he’s being treated to such a view, but he had to agree with him. His eyes flicked into the panties that Soap held in his hand.

He let out a smug huff of amusement, lifting my hips enough so I was kneeled on the table. The group of men heard the sound of a zipper, and a collective group of inward, jealous groans became audible very quickly.

“Dios mio—”

“Fuckin’ hell, Price.”

They kept their mouths shut beyond that, watching as he tugged at his pants. He stroked his cock liberally, pressing a kiss into the neck. “They act like this is cruel, yet they’re still watchin’, baby, they wanna see how I fuck you.” He hummed.

“You’re— Shit, John, I—”

“That’s my girl.” He cursed, lining himself up as he pushed himself into the slickness, grinning at the way the men’s eyes watched on in awe, inward groans at the way I swallowed him whole.

Their pants were tented, and through fuzzy thoughts and half-lidded eyes, it was clear to tell that they were fighting the urge to get themselves off, but they knew Price wouldn’t let them live another day if they did.

“John. Move, please, need—”

He hummed, grabbing onto my hips and moving me against him. “Of course, princess.” He leant his head on my shoulder, his eyes darting around the other men. “You like my cock?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

“Let them know who this pussy belongs to, princess.”

“Yours.” I praised, whining and closing my eyes. “Right there.”

“Louder.”

“John, yours”

“Louder.” He spoke sternly, his hand dipping to rub sweet circles. “Come on, say it louder.”

“It’s yours, John!” I cried out,

“I’m fuckin’ keeping these.” Mactavish mumbled with a sour tone, glancing over at Simon and the other men as he stuffed the panties into his pocket. He leaned back, trying to get comfortable as the view tormented his eyes.

“A few minutes ago you were all for it, what changed, Johnny?”

“You know what, you fuckin’ bastard.” He spoke coldly. “Ale is fuckin’ droolin’, Rudy’s eyes are the size of his fuckin’ head and Gaz is.. Gaz, yet you’re tormenting me?”

“I don’t see you actin’ as well trained as Simon.” He joked. “How is it, princess? Feel you clenchin’, you like them watchin’? Bickering over you?”

“Mhm, yeah, it’s— Yeah!” I nodded enthusiastically as he continued the actions on my clit. He pressed a soft kiss behind my ear, pulling my bra down enough for my breasts to pop out from the fabric. “Ah, fuck, John—”

“Baby, don’t you think he deserves a break from your teasing?”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry, John, ‘m just so close.” I whined.

“Already?” He hummed. “You just like putting on a show? They’re desperate for you.”

“Yes, yes, fuck, yeah, love putting on a show.”

“God, look how wet she is.” Rudy finally spoke up after his long silence. “Fuckin’ creaming on his dick.”

His grip on my hips pushed forward, making me bend over slightly as he kept thrusting into me, hitting the right spot, relishing in the squelching noise that filled the room as the stickiness covered the thighs of his cargo pants. “God, close.”

“I know.” He purred, his hand glued to my clit. “Simon, you’ve been quiet.”

He gritted his teeth. “I know just as well as you, this is a punishment.” He hissed. “I’m not dumb enough to indulge in how bad I want her. You’re claiming her.”

“Smart lad.”

“And she’s liking it.” One of the men pointed out, they were all painfully jealous (and painfully erect at the sight), but they knew this is what happens when Price owns something; this is what they get for wanting to touch his girl in a way that only he should be able to.

I whined, clutching onto his arms. “John— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna?” He slowed his movements, keeping it methodical enough, careful to not let me spill over the edge.

“Gonna cum, gonna—”

“Ask nicely, baby, too busy being all cockdrunk for me that you forgot how this works.”

“Please, baby, let me cum, I wanna cum so bad.” I choked out a cry as I tried to push back on him, needing the extra friction.

“Don’t ask me.” He cooed. “Ask them.”

I sobbed around his cock. “Please, please, let me cum.” I struggled to keep my eyes open enough to look at them.

“They have names.”

“Mhm!” I choked out. “Who?”

“Go down the line.” He breathed, beginning to chase his own orgasm more selfishly, it still wasn’t enough pressure for me to unravel, but his harsh thrusts didn’t help the fuzzy, cloudy feeling.

“Ale— Fuck, please, please.” I threw my head back. “Alejandro, please.”

He let out a low groan with a weak nod. “I need to watch you. I.. Cum, gorgeous, you can cum.” He swallowed thickly, cutting himself shortly from becoming a rambling mess, taking Rileys words into consideration as he spoke.

“Rudy?” I cried out, my mind all fuzzy.

Rodolfo glanced at Price, his mind lingering on what the Ghost said, just like Alejandro and just like the others. “You can, Princesa.” He spoke, attempting to stay calm enough where he didn’t rile himself up while using their Captains pet name for me in a condescending way, trying to reclaim what little power he could.

“You gotta use your words.” Price spoke up. “You can do that, can’t you?”

“Fuck, Gaz—”

“It’s Kyle.” He interrupted with a shit-eating grin.

“Please, Kyle, I.. mhm, say..”

“Can barely get your words out, doll.”

“Please!” I snapped, jerking upwards, pushing myself back on Price harshly, seeing white and feeling a sob rise from my throat at the desperation. “Say it, please!”

“Say that you can cum? That I allow you to?” I nodded frantically, and he bit his lip. “God, he really is claiming her. Such a good fucking girl, go on, doll, I’ll let you cum, you got my vote.” He teased relentlessly.

“Thank you! Thank you! Need.. Johnny—”

“Not him.” Price interrupted. John huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms but biting his tongue, restraining the urge to snap at his Captain.

“Mhm.. Simon?”

“You’re up to Simon, yes.” He mocked lightly as a gentle reminder to use my words.

“Simon? Please? You’re all I need, please.”

He glared up at Price. “How bad do you want it?”

“So fuckin’ bad, Simon, please, I can’t...”

He sighed. “Yeah, you can cum.” He spoke, careful to not overstep with the Captain like the others were.

“You heard them, baby.” John cooed again. “Make a sweet mess for me. You’re trembling, princess, you’re right there for me.”

“Just a bit more, please, more!” I begged, letting it wash over me when he added slightly more pressure to my clit, working me right back up to the edge. “Oh, shit, John, ah—” I sobbed, throwing my head back onto his shoulder.

He mouthed at my shoulder, leaving lazy kisses. “Oh, fuck.” He choked. “Milkin’ m’cock, so sweet.” His eyes were half-lidded as he felt his orgasm impend closer, though he made a point to bask in the look on their faces.

I tensed up, spasming around him. “So good, so good.” I nodded helplessly, eyes clenched shut, momentarily forgetting that people were watching us. “John, baby—”

After the comedown, I slumped forward, going limp in his arms. His quick reaction time was beyond useful as he reached forward to grab me, supporting my weight in his strong arms. “God, ‘m gonna cum, princess. Want it inside?” He spoke smugly, eyeing up the others.

“Yes, yes!” I panted

“Even in front of the lads?”

“Yes, want it inside. Please, John!”

He thrusted harshly a few last times. “I’m right there, baby.” He praised, briefly ignoring the other men so he could feel the warmth around him, to let his orgasm wash over him without the worry of the prying eyes that were trying to memorise and suck in every detail of what was happening in front of them. “Keep sayin’ my name.”

“John, please, need it, c’mon, John, ’m your good girl, need you—”

His breathing picked up pace. “That’s it, that’s it. Take it, princess, that’s it.” He groaned, thrusting a few more times before his pace faltered, spilling his cum inside of me with breathy moans. “That’s my girl, my girl.”

His smug grin returned to his face as he caught his breath, he pressed another kiss on my neck, pulling out and tucking his dick away as he held me in place firmly against him, his embrace was evidently possessive.

“Johnny..” I sighed, leaning into him and closing my thighs tightly, clenching myself in an attempt to keep him inside me.

“Mhm, I got you.” He hummed, fixing my bra and pulling my shirt down to cover my chest again.

“You’re a dick, Cap.” Mactavish finally commented, furrowing his eyebrows. “Gaz was wankin’ to you’s.” He snitched, crossing his arms, frustrated.

“No I wasn’t, fuckin’ snitch.” Kyle snapped back, pulling his hand away from his pants, granted, he wasn’t ‘wanking’, but he was palming himself so points for being close enough, he sat back annoyed and crossed his arms.

Simon stood up. “We’re done here.” He spoke. “They’re done, we’re leaving.” He spoke, announcing to the other soldiers that were overstaying their welcome. “Talking to you, Sergeants.”

“You’re dismissed.” John approved, picking me up and getting ready to take care of his girl.

They all stood up quickly, preparing to escort themselves out as fast as they could, though having to walk slowly in the small quarters. They attempted to avoid eye contact, letting the previous situation linger in the air.

Simon took the lead, getting off the wide couch first. “Let’s go.” He called out, with Mactavish already following behind obediently. “No fighting or else.” He warned.

Alejandro and Rudolfo stood up and shared another glance with another conversation they kept to themselves as they left just as fast eagerly. “Eso fue...algo más...”, “¡lo sé!”,

“¿Crees que volverá a suceder?”

“Si tenemos suerte..” He spoke with a nervous laugh.

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daisies-daydreams · 2 years ago

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Under the Desk (John Price x F!Reader)

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Oral Sex (M!Receiving), Semi-Public Sex, Swearing, Spanking, Hair Pulling Word Count: 1.2k+

A/N: Just a little something I wrote while I'm working on a few requests. 👅💦

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You squealed as you wrapped your arms around Price's thick neck. A small squelch erupted from your lips as he thrusted his tongue inside of your mouth. A small jolt of electricity shot through you as your clothed sex bushed against his stiffening cock. The action earned you an eager squeeze to your bum, your boyfriend’s hand kneading the flesh in his rough palms. Price parted lips with you, his chest heaving as he gazed at you with blown pupils.

“Get under the desk, sweet girl. You know what to do,” Price rumbled, his wet lips dancing over yours. You nodded, your hands trailing down his t-shirt as he pulled back in his office chair. You gave a harsh grind of your hips one more time, savoring how he gasped at the friction. You slowly slid off of his lap, maintaining eye contact the whole trip down. Price stared at you through half-lidded eyes as you shuffled onto your knees, your hands working at his belt.

Price pulled out one of the desk drawers and fished a fresh cigar out. He flinched when your fingers slowly pulled down the elastic of his blue boxers. His hard cock jumped out of his pants, the red tip dripping with precum. You licked your lips, taking his burning hot shaft into one of your hands as you pumped it slowly. Price grunted as he flicked his lighter, setting the tip of his cigar ablaze. He puffed at it a few times before releasing a stream of smoke from his nostrils.

“That’s a good girl,” Price praised as you continued to stroke up and down his length. He inhaled another drag of smoke, only to nearly choke on it when you kissed the tip of his cock. “Bloody fuck,” he groaned when you swirled your warm tongue around his plump, bulbous head. His balls ached as you worked your hands in tandem with your tongue. You raised his dick before licking a stripe from the base all the way up to his leaking tip.

“Fuck, lovie,” Price grunted as he shallowly bucked his hips. You sighed and closed your eyes as he slid his hand down to your head, threading his fingers through your hair. He puffed at his cigar again as he massaged at your scalp.

You moaned around his cock, taking it an inch deeper into your wet cavern. You let your hands fall to his inner thighs as you shifted closer, allowing him to sink in even further.

“That’s right-use your mouth just the way I like,” he rumbled, billows of smoke pouring past his lips. You suckled around his dick before starting to pull your head back, leaving his head between your lips. Price released a subtle moan as you bobbed your head across his length, his cock stuffing your mouth full. His fingers began to grip at your hair as you used your tongue to smooth over the vein on the underside of his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ he grunted. Price quickly set his cigar in his ashtray as you watched the resolve slip from him. His free hand clutched at the arm of his desk chair while he used his other to guide your head up and down his shaft. You repressed the urge to gag as his cock began to hit the back of your throat.

“Mmm, love how your lips wrap around me, baby,” Price swallowed thickly. You squeaked when he thrusted his hips into your mouth, his cock nearly splitting your jaw apart. Tears pricked at your eyes as your fingers raked down his pants.

“Shit-gonna cum,” Price growled, his cock twitching inside your wet cavern. Your eyes opened to look up at him and his face scrunched up.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Captain? Mind if I have a word real quick? It’s urgent," Gaz spoke from the other side of the door.

Price’s head whipped forward before looking down to you. You reflected his gaze of panic, his cock still lodged deep in your throat. Your love’s breathing stuttered as he pushed himself forward.

“Not a sound, bird,” he demanded softly as he scooted you beneath the desk. You nodded as Price straightened his clothes out. He sighed as he held his hands on his desk.

“Come in!” he called. Gaz opened the door, his brows instantly knitting when he saw the Captain's red face.

“You alright, Price? Look a bit feverish,” Gaz stated as he approached the desk. Your heart thrummed against your sternum as you felt some of his precum slide down your throat. Your mind was swimming with arousal, numb to any consequence of being caught. You fluttered your eyes closed as you cracked a wry grin.

“Ah, well, I’m not faring too well-Gaz,” his voice strained as you hollowed your cheeks around his cock. Price's hands squeezed together, his knuckles turning whiter by the second as you swiped your tongue against a prominent vein. Gaz raised a brow, his eyes scanning his Captain.

“Right. Well, there’s some important news from Las Almas,” Gaz stated. Price kept his hands tightly wound together and nodded as Gaz explained the most recent report given by Alejandro. You shallowly drove your mouth up and down his length, careful to not make too many wet sounds. Price’s hands tightened around each other every so often. His left eye twitched whenever his sensitive tip tapped the back of your throat. Gaz paused.

“You sure you’re alright, Price?” the Sergeant asked. Price nodded and gritted his teeth as you deftly massaged his heavy balls with one of your hands.

“I’m fine, Sergeant,” he seethed as you stroked your thumb across his raphe. His hand slipped down to the arm of his chair, grasping at his as Gaz finished his conversation. Your eyes widened as Price snatched your hair, squeezing his fingers around it roughly. You didn't cease your ministrations as Gaz saluted and saw himself out. You released his dick from your mouth, smiling up at him.

"Little minx," Price huffed. You squeaked as he shoved his cock far down your throat, using your hair to guide you along his thick shaft.

“Think it’d be funny to make me cum in front of one of my men, hm?” he asked. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as he relentlessly drove himself into your mouth, each squelch louder than the last. He groaned as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your walls clenching around nothing.

“You're gonna take all my cum like a good girl,” Price grunted when he gave a few more hungry thrusts. He bit his other hand as he stiffened, his cock twitching over your tongue. Your moans were muffled as he came down your throat.

"(Y/N)..." he slurred as you felt the warmth drip down your esophagus.

He panted before shifting his gaze down. You looked up at him with wet doe eyes as he kept your hair in a tight grip. You felt the tension in your throat loosen as he slid you off of his cock. You gasped and sputtered for air, some of his cum dripping down the corner of your mouth. Price clicked his tongue before swiping at the drop and shoving his fingers between your parted lips. You clamped your mouth down and swirled your tongue around his fingers, suckling his spend greedily.

“Fuck-look at you,” he groaned as his chest heaved. You whined as he withdrew his long digit, wiping it on his pants leg. You rested your cheek on his inner thigh, your hips wagging like a dogs. Price patted your head before rolling back in his chair.

You blinked as he nodded his head towards the desk.

“Come up here,” Price softly commanded as he curled his finger. You quickly bounded up, squeezing your thighs together as you stood in front of him. The Captain hummed, a dangerous glint in his eye as he rose from his chair. He splayed his hands over your hips before leaning his face down to your ear. You yelped when he laid a sharp smack across ass, the flesh instantly stinging.

“Turn around and bend over," Price rasped as he lined his cock up to your soaked entrance. You shuddered as he raked his teeth over your pulse, his hand wrapping around your hair.

"I'm gonna make sure you truly understand what it means to listen,” he husked.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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di-writes-stuff · 1 year ago

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You Are In Love

John Price x Reader

One Shot

TW: Mentions of weapons, bl00d, injuries.

Three instances in which John realizes he’s in love with you. Thank Miss Swift for this one.

“You can hear it in the silence.”

You wince as John lifts up your shirt, blood crusted onto your skin around the wound on your abdomen. Attempts at convincing him you didn’t need him to patch you up himself were quickly ignored by him with a small hush and gentle hands leading you to the chair you’re sitting on now.

Exhaustion was evident on both your faces, drooping eyelids and all. No words are exchanged as a rag wet with warm water is pressed to your wound, cleaning the blood around where the knife broke skin. A small hiss slips through your lips at the sting of water meeting the wound. It’d stopped bleeding quiet so much after the stitches you got in the field, but small gaps still allowed water to slip through.

John mutters out his apologies, but it sounds more like a grumble. Any thoughts of making conversation are quickly abandoned, fatigue stripping both of your abilities to form coherent sentences.

It doesn’t seem to matter much as he presses a bandage to the wound, gentle hands and concerned glances at any noise you make saying everything they need to.

The mission was awful. Sure, you came out successful, but God was it grueling. The kind John doubted everybody would come out from alive.

They did, by some miracle.

Still, he can’t seem to shake the panic that coursed through his veins when he saw you go down after the stab. That moment before you got back up, before he reached you, it was the slowest of his life. The only thought coursing through his mind that the moment he’d been fighting tooth and nail to avoid was finally coming.

That you weren’t gonna be by his side on the ride back to base.

That you wouldn’t greet him in the morning with that smile that turns any coherent thought in his brain to mush.

That he wouldn’t have you anymore.

Thoughts of all the things that could have happened run through his mind as he wraps gauze around your waist, the sudden shakiness of his hands going unnoticed to him.

The only thing he can seem to focus on is that the second he wasn’t by your side, this happened. And if you hadn’t gotten treated as soon as you did, if John hadn’t dropped everything and dragged you to medical waiting on the EVAC boat, he wouldn’t be watching the slow rise and fall of your chest now.

He’s snapped out of his slow spiral as your hand settles on his, stilling the tremors running through it. Dulled blue eyes slide up to meet yours, softening as you squeeze his hand softly.

A reminder. A fact in the ocean of worries, of possibilities in his head.

You’re alive.

He finds himself repeating it like a mantra in his mind. A reason might be more accurate. If you’re here, he can be too. If you’re alive, he has a reason to keep going. It’s terrifying for a moment. To think that you’ve become the very thing his world orbits around.

And then, it just feels natural. Right, that the cards have fallen the way they did. John was never a man who believed in fate, in something determining the direction of his life. He was in control, he was the captain steering his own ship.

It sounded like bullshit now as he looked up at you. You, who fit him like a glove. You, who seemed too perfect to be here by happenstance. You, who had him wrapped around your finger. A blessing, maybe, in a life void of them.

He finishes quickly, managing to do the rest of the work with one hand. He can’t bring himself to pull the other away from your soft hold. Muscles ache as he stands, your eyes following his every movement.

Slowly, he leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your head, the tiniest of smiles on his face as he feels you lean into his touch. Later John will find that he can’t decipher if that was a moment of weakness or humanity.

Although, he’s beginning to think they may be one and the same.

But, the only thing he can’t bring himself to feel about it is regret.

“You can feel it on the way home.”

The mission had been easy. Just gathering some intel from a friend in London.

So, it seemed a bit odd when John had you come with him. You weren’t complaining, of course. Any opportunity to spend time with him away from prying eyes cracking jokes about how close you seem to be was welcome.

Cold air bites at the both of you as you step outside of the building, snow falling onto the cobblestone streets. It’s almost too picturesque, street lamps glowing softly, providing just enough light for you to see on the walk back to the car.

Shivers run through your body, cold seeping through the jacket your wearing. John quickly starts to take off his sweater before you stop him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“I’m fine, John.” You assure him, your voices the only sounds besides the wind whistling in your ears.

He sighs, tugging his sweater back on, knowing you wouldn’t take it either way. “You’re shaking.” He comments, voice softer than usual. The gruffness that almost always accompanies his tone has vanished, the only thing coming through clearly is affection.

You merely smile, shaking your head and looking down at your feet. His blatant concern leaves you feeling like a giddy teenager, blushing softly under the glow of moonlight.

John shoves down the nerves coursing through his body as he steps closer, an apprehensive arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to the warmth radiating from his body.

Relief floods his body as you look up at him, a soft smile ghosting your lips reflected on his. And with his arm wrapped around your waist, with your head resting on his shoulder, it’d be so easy for him to imagine for a moment that you and him are normal people.

That rather than an intel grab, he’s walking you back from a date. That rather than a base, he’s taking you home. That rather than a fleeting moment, this could just be his life, day in, and day out.

But of course, reality sets in sooner or later. That this is just a taste of a life he can never have with you, and one he’d never want with anybody else.

Still, the city does look awfully pretty like this, snow glittering like thousands of tiny diamonds under the amber glow of the gas lamps, no cars or people to disrupt. Just you, and him. Holding onto each other like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get.

With your jobs, it just might be.

Steps slow as both of you realize you’re getting closer to the car, and the eventual end of a night that feels so blissfully normal. You take the time to lean over the edge of the small bridge you’re crossing, watching the moonlight glint off the thin layer of ice covering the water underneath. John’s arm eventually slips away from your waist, only for his hand to land atop of yours on the railing.

Your eyes are focused on the sight before you, snow falling steadily, little pieces landing on your eyelashes.

John’s gaze doesn’t leave you the whole time, a love sick smile on his face that only you seem to be able to conjure up. Slowly you lean up, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment he knows he’s done for, for tonight at least.

He can’t exactly tell who started it, but he supposes it doesn’t matter now. It was soft, at first, lips barely brushing. Then, it wasn’t. Then it was everything he’d been holding back, everything he’d been trying so hard to pretend wasn’t real for so long.

Later the both of you will act as if it didn’t happen, and for the longest time it won’t again. It will go back to longing looks, hands brushing in hallways, and the adamant refusals to admit that you could be anything more than close friends.

But for now, the snow is falling, you’re in his arms, and John has everything he needs.

“You can see it with the lights out.”

It wasn’t unusual for 141 to head to the pub after a job well done. The mission wasn’t too hard, but you all came back with your fair share of cuts and bruises from some rough terrain. Gaz and Soap were already putting their new scars to work with the ladies.

The stories they told were exaggerated, of course. Gaz apparently had been grazed by a machine gun bullet.

A rusty gate tore through his shirt and nicked his arm.

In Soap’s story he went toe to toe with death, the deep purple bruise and cut on his eyebrow coming from an explosion.

He fell off a rocky hill and ate shit on a boulder.

Either way, John wasn’t paying them much mind, you serving as a distraction from their antics. The bars lighting is even dimmer than usual, a couple bulbs having gone out.

The bartender won’t notice until the pub closes. John wishes he could see your face better at first, but when liquor leads to drunken flirting, he’ll be grateful you can’t see the light blush dusting his face.

As you return from the restroom you find John watching the soccer game playing on the small TV. Reclaiming your spot next to him, your voice sounds next to his ear, any interest in the game vanishing at your return.

“Who’s winning the soccer game?” It’s become a running gag between you. At first it actually did annoy him, but at this point he just pretends to get wound up.

Really, he just likes to see the humored smile on your face when he grumbles out his response. “It’s football, love.” He responds, chest filling with boyish pride when you blush at the pet-name. He can hardly make it out under the cover of darkness, but the way you duck your head away is as clear a sign as anything of his affect on you.

He’d tried to be professional at first, but it didn’t last long. You were intoxicating like nothing else. Your laughter, your spirit, everything about you sent him falling faster than he could try to stop it.

Ignoring it never worked, he would catch himself doing little things for you either way. Holding doors open even if he wasn’t walking that way himself. Grabbing things for you that you couldn’t reach, even though a footstool was sitting in the closet collecting dust.

He just liked the excuse to stand that close to you, even if it was just for a moment, cause the way you smiled up at him every time was enough to keep him happy for the rest of the day. Fingers would brush as he handed you whatever it was, and the look in both your eyes was far too recognizable to everybody around.

Either way, he’d given up on pretending there wasn’t something between you two. For tonight, at least.

John will tell himself later that it was an accident, that the rest of the night was the product of a coincidence. It’s not true, of course, but he doesn’t have to admit that to himself.

His hand slides across the bar top, supposedly to reach for a napkin.

He didn’t need one.

As his fingers brush yours he looks over, trying to confirm in the darkness that the smile on your face really was there.

It was.

His hand slowly wraps around yours, warmth seeping from his calloused palm. It’s so intimate despite the environment. The music suddenly seems to quiet, the air stilling, the commotion behind you slowing. As your eyes meet, bright spots in the dim lighting of the bar, everything just…fades away.

It’s just you, and him. And you are not a sergeant under his command, and he is not a captain controlling you. You’re a pretty woman, and he’s a flirtatious man, and for the night John Price gets to be human.

And for the night, John Price gets to love you openly. Because in a darkened bar full of boisterous drunks, nobody notices the two fools holding hands, whispering sweet nothings, hushed laughter bubbling up from you as yet another clever quip leaves his mouth.

For the night, John Price gets to pretend this can last beyond flirting at a bar.

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maladaptivedaydreamery · 3 months ago

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WIP, (Captain Price Fic/FanArt/Short) Captain Price x Y/N

WIP: Captain Price x Y/N (FanArt/Short)

Hey everyone! Here’s a little draft I’ve been working on. Not sure if I’ll continue, but I wanted to share it with you to see what you think. The idea behind this piece was to capture a sensual vibe — specifically, Captain Price with his hair all disheveled during an intimate moment.

I really wanted to get that intense, possessive, "You're mine" look in his blue eyes, the kind that says everything without a word. Let me tell you, that kind of expression is tricky to imagine and draw! 😅 As you can see in the first panel, it took so many trials and errors to get that expression just right. It’s hard to explain, but I hope you understand where I’m coming from! 😅 It’s tricky to convey that level of emotion, let alone imagine it, but I gave it my best shot!

Let me know if this resonates with you — I’m open to feedback or ideas! Should I keep going? 👀

Edit: Well, it's ready here, (Although in short, video summary form) but I needed to remove some stuff (else it will be removed again), so everything that is happening is just 'hinted'. If anyone know a place I can post the whole thing for everyone's safe enjoyment (no viruses or malicious things), please tell me a place! and I'll upload it there!!

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thebookbutterfly · 8 months ago

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fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

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girl-lostconnection · 18 days ago

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Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.

Continuation

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gomzdrawfr · 8 months ago

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messy sketch of you discovering bear!Price's scar on his left palm

other bear!Price stuff I made:

⋆｡°✩ Captain Bear // Having Beary Price all for yourself // big bear!Price // hibernation // om nom nom ⋆｡°✩

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Poly141! x Female Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing, medical examinations, medical terms, medical terminology, slight angst, graphic descriptions of the effects of being alone for ten years. Nikolai appears for a little while in this part. But he becomes a permanent character later. Cute nicknames. Pet names. Smut implications. Rather heavy handed

Dividers: @cafekitsune

Word Count: 3146

Note: I hope you enjoyed this part. If you have more ideas of where to have this go next. Then by all means message me or put it in comments below. I read all comments by the way.

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two + Part Three + Part Four

Masterlist

It’s been three months since you were back at the base. You weren’t too sure how the military personnel would react to your return. You were certain this wasn’t real, and you would certainly wake up soon.

You were now under the bright lights of the medical room. You didn’t know what to think now. If you were allowed to return, why the need for all these tests?

What were they testing for? What aren’t they telling you?

Why are they staring at you like you were going to die any day now?

Would it have been better to have been out in the wild instead?

All these questions spurned, swirled and turned inside your head. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know what you should feel.

Your skin felt like it was on fire with each poke, prod and needle injected into you. You didn’t like it. You loathed it. But what could you do? What was there to do? Other than to lie there and take what they dished out unto your body. Your shell. Your image.

Nothing is left untouched because anything you have deemed sacred wasn’t treated that way by them. Your life before wasn’t like that, and now you are left wondering if it was better to be alone rather than to have a place of ‘belonging’ in the first place.

An unknown creature made by mother nature they couldn’t easily define.

“I can’t take more tests.” You stated, your face pressed against the glass one-way window and your eyes shut. The IV drip jabbed into your right arm as you are so, so tired. “I should have stayed out there.”

As the days continued to pass, you weren’t sure what to think anymore and the more time to yourself. The more time you spend regretting ever deciding it was a good idea to come back.

What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all? You don’t know now. You don’t want to know the answer to either question.

Who knew what would happen now?

You didn’t know. And for once, you had something far more tangible to be afraid of.

You do know if anything told you about predators, if anything about being in the wild taught you anything in those long ten years alone. You still don’t know how they affected you or if they made you ‘better’ at this.

At this job. At existing as you are and as you were before. Who knows?

Not like you will get the truth out of them without pulling teeth from their snapping jaws. You don’t know how long it will take for them to find out you are part of an incredibly morally grey, morally complicated, morally complex, morally fucked in the head, morally ambiguous. And more likely to go ‘feral’ if left alone for too long.

While you were asleep on the table, the doctor pulled them aside to the observation room outside the examination area.

“The effects of being isolated for eleven years are apparent,” The doctor stated, pulling up the brain scan on the digital whiteboard. “As you can see on the brain scan here, the amygdala and the hippocampus have both grown significantly. This could explain the heightened sense of danger and enhanced memory.”

“Other things that are affected are things like her nails, while they were oddly shaped before, they are now razor sharp. They can and will slice you open or dig into layers of your flesh.” The doctor continued showing off an image of damage done to a mannequin.

Price watched from the corner, his hand in his pocket, rubbing the bruise you left behind on his hand. The way your eyes glinted with the fireplace light, the way your teeth dug into his skin. It was almost like he enjoyed it. Like it was a silent declaration of something.

“Her wolf teeth evolved too,” the doctor continued to ramble. “They are far better than what they used to be.”

That statement alone hinted at the fact this doctor knows you far better than they thought they did. Price took a step closer, his curiosity piqued, “How so?”

The doctor pointed to the image on the board, “Her teeth, while sharp, they’re not just for show. They’re capable of injecting a venom. A venom that can incapacitate or kill anyone it comes into contact with. We’re not sure how or why this evolution happened. But it’s a significant advantage in combat. One that we can’t ignore.”

Price’s eyes narrowed, the implications of this newfound information were vast. If you had the capability to produce such a powerful venom, then that would explain why Shepherd was so keen on keeping you a secret. It was a weapon they hadn’t fully unlocked yet.

It also calls into question as to why you were kept a secret or left out there for ten years. What was General Shepherd afraid of?

What did he hope for when he threw her to the wolves in Siberia?

Did he hope she’d die out there?

The disconnect between the reality of knowing she wouldn’t have died and the hope the cold, starvation would kill her is large enough to fit the titanic.

“We need to keep this under wraps. It shouldn’t get back to General shepherd. The last thing we need is to have him tipped off about your return or anything we have learned about you.” Price stated.

“We can’t afford, if the General gets wind of this, he’ll do anything to control you. To use you as a weapon again. You’re not going anywhere near that monster.” Ghost remarked in agreement with Price.

“How does my organs look though?” you asked the doctor, more concentrated on your own health than how fast you could kill someone.

The doctor nodded, clicking away on their computer, “Your organs are surprisingly healthy given your diet out there. We’ve seen some malnourishment but nothing too serious, a bit of vitamin deficiency.”

The doctor continued to speak after you gave her the nod to go ahead, “Nothing we can’t fix with supplements. Your body is adapting to what’s available in the wild, which is quite extraordinary. It’s almost as if you’ve evolved to survive in such conditions. Your liver and kidneys are functioning at optimal levels, considering. But we’ll run some more tests to be sure.”

“What about the stomach and pancreas?” you questioned. “I had a lot of boar, deer, and bear meat. Can't say I've had a lot of greens out there. Besides mushrooms, fruit like berries and the occasional wild garlic.”

The doctor nodded again, scribbling some notes, “It's understandable given the environment. We'll need to keep an eye on your digestive system, but preliminary results indicate you're doing surprisingly well. It seems your body has adapted to extract the maximum nutrients from what's available.”

While you were settling into the base, you were keen on getting at least the optimal hours of sleep again. The nice, seven to nine hours of sleep. In between your fur blankets, insulated and the cold kept far from you.

After six hours, almost seven hours of sleep later, your door opened little by little. An unknown scent wafted in from the door, who is it? You can’t identify that smell at all. You frown as the scent gets closer to your bed.

The Russian accent finally gave it away now, odd to hear that here, of all places. You didn’t think it would have been something to wake up to. Yet here it was. Laid out in front you like an unwelcome sign with enough red lights to make the red-light district question itself.

You don’t know what the bear wanted from you, not like you could or would give anything to the guy anyway. But that it is beside the point. You shifted around in your blanket pile and pulled your pants back on. Don’t question why you don’t have pants on. Overheating is a major issue for you during winter, and the heat rashes drive you up the wall.

Nikolai. Whoever he is. Standing in your quarters like it was summer in the middle of the Sahara desert wearing a pair of shorts.

“Aren't you cold wearing those things?” you asked, drowsy and half asleep. You braced yourself for a no for an answer.

The stubborn bear never paid enough attention to the weather reports anyhow. It didn’t matter how many times you’d tell him. He wouldn’t listen to you anyway. It’s a wonder no one gave him an earful already. Not that you wanted to be that person to that.

You didn’t want Price ranting and raving at how you ‘hurt his feelings’ or some kind of bullshit excuse he might throw at you.

You didn’t care about hurt feelings, why would you? If any of them were alone for as long as you, were, they wouldn’t care either. Though you doubt they would have the guts to even last that long anyway.

You reached out for your shirt to put on underneath the layers of blankets. Not that you cared that he would still be standing there in total silence anyway. You didn’t wear a bra out in the wild and you still don’t.

City wolves would. Wolves like yourself? Unheard of. Unless you really needed it, most wolves, lone wolves like you? Didn’t bother with the trivialities of human societal norms like underwear and other such things.

If you felt the need to have such a thing you would have to learn from trial and error to make one yourself. Just like you were taught through ONI.

Men and Women had to learn how to sew in ONI. Both genders were required to learn it in order to be self-sufficient in the field. It was a necessary skill, especially when you’re in the middle of nowhere with no tailor in sight.

Probably why you asked for linen based clothes which Price didn’t think you’d be that specific in your request. Not that the doctor minded, she knew the benefits of linen just as much as you did.

If you were still in ONI’s branch headquarters, you would be wearing running shorts and a sports bra. Maybe a muscle shirt over the top of the sports bra to ward eyes off your chest region.

It was airy, enough material to cover yourself while also leaving out enough material to keep your body from overheating to an uncomfortable degree. The doctor had listened, much to the amusement of the men who had accompanied her.

While you braided your hair to prevent it from resembling a raccoon's post-food wash mess. You didn’t know what to think of the larger man. “I am sure you are here for an important reason, right?”

You didn’t know whether they wanted to recreate your old room with their own touches or if they wanted to go ham and just fuck in front of you.

The hormones were all over the place leaving you feeling like you were in an unending fever dream you can’t find yourself to leave because one, its too weird. Secondly its like getting flash banged in a fire fight or a western style show down.

Who knew if this would only be just another temporary space? You didn’t. You were just waiting uneasy and waiting until you had to find a new permanent spot on your own again. Instead of the wilderness. It would be inside the city this time.

Nikolai looked over the new hideout plans you had started for yourself. The combination of four storage containers. Two stacked on top of another two, forming a two-story space and the containers would be forty feet.

The outside would be painted Vanta Black to blend into the dark to make it virtually unable to see in the dark. The windows would be made of a one-way mirror, so you can see out without being seen. Allowing you to walk around naked.

If you desired to walk around your own hideaway stark-naked that is. Not that it would happen with five people staring at you or one of them staring at you. They’d enjoy the view of you unwrapped far, far too much.

The other ideas you had come up with were things like: hidden cameras camouflaged by the black paint. Along with visible thermal imaging cameras that look like security cameras only they won’t record audio, camera footage or anything which could be traced back to you. They would only detect and record heat signatures into an excel spreadsheet linked to a server database.

You had a dot point list of other ideas you had in mind for what to put inside it:

Camouflage Netting: It’s not just for military use anymore, it’s for hiding your hideout. It’s a way to make sure that no matter where you are, you’re protected from the eyes of anyone that’s looking for you.

Infirmary: Just in case someone gets hurt and needs medical attention. It’s not just for patching up gunshot wounds, but also for dealing with your unique condition.

Library of survival books: Because even the best of us need to brush up on their skills every once in a while. Plus, it’s always good to have a plan B, C, D, and so on.

Reloading Bench: This would provide with a source of ammunition, store your excess amount of ammunition created and to provide a workbench specifically for ammunition. Plus, it keeps everything organized and in one place.

Security System: You had thought about installing a silent alarm system that notifies the four of you if anyone gets too close for comfort. It would be linked directly to your phones or coms.

Solar Panels: To provide power and reduce the dependency on the grid. You weren’t going to be living in the dark ages, even if you’re living off the grid.

Soundproof Panels: Installed within the walls of the hideout to prevent any noise from escaping or entering, which was crucial for both privacy and safety during your heat.

Underground Tunnels: To escape and enter the hideout without being seen. It’s a safety net if shit hits the fan and you need to escape quickly. Plus, it’s a great way to get around unseen and get to places without having to leave the safety of your own base.

Nikolai looked over what you have come up with so far, eyes scanning over the drawings beside each dot point to drive home what you hoped to create in the future. You don’t know where this will end up being created. But for now, it remains an idea. No matter how ‘grandiose’ it sounded to him.

Debating with yourself if Yorkshire or Coventry would be better for this kind of hideout you were mentally creating for yourself. You didn’t know which place would be better and you didn’t know if they would react well to it either. A minefield hidden among the eggshells. What to do. What to do.

Would it be better to have them live inside a house while you lived on the land just outside?

Would it be better to just by a chunk of land and build something replicated from your own mind?

What is the better outcome? What is better for you? Which is going to help you more?

These questions swam around in your head like a tornado. A whirlwind of doubt and confusion. Until you heard his voice speak again, “You thought about this a lot, Da?” he asked.

You nodded, not completely trusting your voice not to crack and unable to find the will to speak either. The intensity of his stare made you squirm, intense, far too intense, you refused to be intimidated by him regardless.

Irrespective of what his opinion of what your choices meant to him. You had to keep yourself safe first. You can’t be bogged down by the opinions or notions of what they think you needed.

“Is there a problem?” you probed subtly.

“No….No problem here little mouse.” Nikolai answered his eyes finally darting back to your writing again.

You ignored the odd nickname he decided to call you at least it was better than ‘Darling’ or ‘darlin’ like the other four loved to call you. Though it did feel odd to hear anyone to call you things like that.

It was always either, ‘Venom’, ‘V’, ‘Devil’, ‘Beast’ or just your name. It is incredibly for someone to choose to call you by your name for some reason. Not that you cared that much about it.

Nikolai called you things like: 'Lyubimaya', 'Malinka', 'Milyaya', 'Solnyshko', 'Zayka' and, the oddest one of all, 'Moy Kotyonok' (My Kitten). Each name brought a slight blush to your cheeks, even though you knew they were just endearments in his language. He was always looking at you with a smirk, enjoying your reaction.

The act of calling you things like: ‘Little Mouse’, ‘Darling’, ‘darlin’. They did things to your mind, scratching a part of your brain you enjoyed more than you thought you would have. Though you preferred 'Little Mouse'. Over ‘Darling’ and ‘darlin’.

The cutest nicknames someone to think of piled onto you like a truck load of plushies. You didn’t know what to think of it all. You still don’t. You’re not sure if it was the hormones fucking with your mind or if it was the act of caring in general. Either way you find yourself liking it more than you assumed you would have.

Nikolai asked, “May I add a few more dot points?”

“Sure. Just don’t add anything that doesn’t help long term. If you can focus on long term things? Sure. Otherwise, add notes pertaining to other parts of the hideout you think it needs.” You answered.

Nikolai nodded, understanding the need to think long term instead of the short term, a hideout needed to think past the immediate needs and look at the potential problems you could have in the future.

“Da, I will keep this in mind, Little Mouse. Maybe we can have a room for vodka. Yes? It is good for the soul, and it keeps the cold away, da?” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of humour.

“I was hoping for mead.” You quipped with a smirk. “Perhaps we could add beehives to make sure the honey is fresh?”

Nikolai’s eyes lit up with the idea. “Mead! Yes, good for the soul, keeps the cold away, and it is something we can make ourselves! You are clever, Little Mouse.” He scribbled the idea onto the paper, his rough, calloused hand moving swiftly across the page.

Perhaps it was in fact better to work with others instead of relying on yourself. Perhaps you have room for five others inside that heart of yours.

You would like that right?

Little mouse.

85 notes · View notes

msilwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Papa Bear Material Ch 11 (Captain Price Fic) - The First Time (SMUT, MDNI) Chapter 1 Chapter 1 (Shorter Version)

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal@marmaladespread02 @poohkie90 @wizzdot @kurt-cockaine @massivescissorsthingperson @madsothree @azkza @noonespecial475 @jaeirwin14 and to everyone else I wasn’t able to tag (I tried typing the username it would not give the line that its tagged which makes me also unable to tag you (Waaah!!)) —thank you so much for sticking with me and reading along! Your support means a lot, and it’s been awesome seeing some of you follow along from the beginning. 💕 This chapter can absolutely be read as a standalone, as the dynamic between the characters has already been established and is pretty clear by now. So, feel free to dive right into this one without worry—everything you need to know about their relationship is already pretty obvious! 😉

A/N: After the Captain has finally wrapped you around his finger, you’ve been exclusively dating for months. And now? You’ve fallen hard. John? Well, he's just as bad—if not worse. Possessive, protective, delightfully ridiculous in his affection, and utterly smitten with you. When he asks you to be his partner, you can’t help but say yes. It’s everything you’ve been waiting for—for him to make it official.

And let’s be real; you know what that means, right? The intimacy? Oh, it came in full force. And let's just say, Captain Price? He didn’t hold back. He shocked you—in the best way possible—with everything he is... and everything he’s about to show you. 😏🔥

This is the last chapter for this series—this part—because the Captain has officially won you over and now he’s taking you! Woohoo! Saving the best for last, of course.

Smut warning: MDNI!

Moving forward, the story will continue as one-shots, but don’t worry—I’ll put together a masterpost to help you follow the timeline easily. So, you can jump in and out whenever you’d like!

(If you’re feeling a bit impatient and want to skip ahead to the action, go ahead and scroll down to the steamy bits—no judgment here! But just a heads-up, I wrote this with a slow build-up on purpose. I wanted the tension to simmer and the moment to hit just right when it finally comes together. So, if you stick with the pacing, I promise the payoff will be worth it. Oh, and the sex scene? It’s a little long, so there’s plenty to dive into when you get there. 😏)

----------

The question came unexpectedly, just as you were both enjoying dinner at a cosy restaurant, the low hum of conversation around you blending with the clink of glasses. You were sipping on a bottle of beer when he turned to you, that familiar smitten smile dancing on his lips, his blue eyes filled with warmth and mischief. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the edge of his voice taking on a teasing, raspy tone.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he began, clearly amused by whatever thought had crossed his mind, “you seem to like me enough—well, at least I think so, or you wouldn’t keep showing up, right?” He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “What do you say, love? Want to make this official with me?”

You nearly choked on your beer, laughter bubbling up from your chest as you tried to steady the bottle. “You really think I’d keep showing up if I didn’t like you?” you teased, eyes sparkling with amusement.

He raised an eyebrow, that playful glint in his eyes deepening. “I dunno, maybe it’s the eye candy,” he said with a cheeky grin. “I mean, no need to go to a gallery for a muse when you’ve got this walking, talking masterpiece right here. Makes life so much easier, don’t you think?”

That audacity. The sheer confidence of this man had you laughing so hard, you almost spat out your beer. You shook your head, trying to suppress your laughter, but his smug expression only made it worse.

“Alright, alright,” you said, finally catching your breath. “Yes, John. Let’s make this relationship official.”

He grinned wider, and there it was—that satisfied look of a man who knew he’d just won the best prize.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He said with a wink, his voice dropping to a softer, more serious tone. “You’re mine now, love. Officially.”

And with that, the evening felt a little sweeter, the air between you two charged with something more than just the fun of the moment. It was a promise.

---------

He walked you home that night, his arm draped comfortably over your shoulders, his imposing frame radiating warmth as he guided you toward your flat. You, in turn, wrapped your arm around his waist, savouring the familiar sensation of his solid presence beside you. His grin was wide and easy, matching the relaxed rhythm of your steps.

When you reached the elevator, your heart quickened. You’d both been dancing around this moment for a while now, and you could feel the tension building between you. But as you reached your door, he kissed you. Deeply. The kind of kiss that left your knees weak and your breath ragged. His lips were hungry, but there was a restraint, a subtle control in his touch that kept you both from going further.

He pulled back, his breath heavy but steady as he looked at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Not yet,” he said softly, his voice thick with understanding. “Not now. I want to make sure you're ready first, not rushing anything.” His tone was warm, full of consideration. He wasn’t forcing anything; he was waiting for you, knowing that when the moment came, it would be worth the patience.

You could hear the quiet confidence in his words, and despite the heat simmering between you, it felt right. He was taking his time, respecting the space between you, and you couldn’t help but admire him even more for it.

He kissed your hand gently before turning toward the elevator lobby, leaving your flat’s hallway behind. You stood there for a moment, sighing dreamily as the warmth of the evening lingered, then stepped back inside your place, unable to shake the smile from your face.

----------

By the weekend, something had shifted. Everything was official now, and it showed. John had dropped the restraint he’d been holding onto, and instead, he was... well, touchier. He couldn’t seem to stop stealing kisses, and his hands wandered with a confidence that had you laughing and batting him away. He didn’t even try to hide how much he enjoyed it. You weren’t complaining—you’d been ready for this.

When he took you back to his house, it felt like stepping into a warm hug. His place had this easy charm to it—clean but lived-in, with a cosy, rustic feel that made you want to sink right in. For someone with his background, it was unexpected. It felt like a safe little hideaway, just the two of you.

(John Price's Cottage Home) As you crossed the threshold, something in the air shifted. You didn’t need him to say it—you already knew exactly where this was going.

John crouched by the cast-iron fireplace, carefully arranging the logs before striking a match and coaxing the flames to life. The warm glow began to spill into the room, softening the edges of the rustic space and wrapping it in a golden comfort.

“Do you want tea?” he asked, glancing back at you. His voice was calm, grounding, as if sensing the nerves bubbling just beneath your surface. “Make yourself comfortable,” he added with a nod toward the cosy furniture.

“Sure, thank you,” you replied, offering him a small smile as you settled into the plush armchair.

It was the first time you’d been here as his partner. John had brought you to his home before, but this time was different—more intimate, more charged. You couldn’t ignore the tension thrumming quietly between you. You knew what was likely to come next, and the thought sent a cascade of conflicting emotions through you.

Sex.

Your fingers fidgeted lightly against the fabric of the chair. Could he really live up to it? You doubted it, not because of him but because of your own tangled past. You’d set your expectations low—safer that way. If you were honest, you weren’t sure you even remembered how to be truly intimate with someone anymore.

Technically, you were a virgin. All you’d ever allowed yourself was the illusion of closeness: keeping everything surface-level and out of fear. Fear of pregnancy, fear of repercussions from a family whose religious rigidity had been unyielding. The price for any perceived misstep back then would have been severe, and so you’d crafted an armour of restraint and avoidance. Even in those early, misguided attempts to hold onto love through sex, you’d only found pain—used, abused, and left to pick up the pieces of your battered self-esteem.

Eventually, you reached a breaking point. Therapy helped you heal and gave you the strength to start over. Since then, you chose celibacy, locking that part of your life away. It had been over a decade now, so long that you barely remembered what it felt like to be touched or to let go. Did it even feel good back then? Did it ever feel right? The memories had faded, becoming more distant over time.

Now, sitting here, a small chuckle escaped you—a mixture of nerves and disbelief. It wasn’t just the emotional weight of it all; you weren’t even sure if you’d remember how to be good at it. Could you even keep up? you thought with a wry smile.

A plan started to form in the back of your mind, simple and safe: focus on him. Maybe you’d just rely on what you did know—pleasure him with your mouth and your hands. Throw in a bit of creativity and a little showmanship, and it might be enough to let the moment pass without diving too deeply into uncharted waters. You tried to reassure yourself, though the thought of your jaw aching afterward wasn’t exactly comforting.

The fire crackled softly in the background, filling the quiet space between your thoughts. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel that John would see through it all—that he’d sense there was more to this moment than you were letting on.

"Love?" A deep, raspy voice, accompanied by strong hands on your shoulder, pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to find John, holding a steaming cup of tea.

"Ah, yes, thank you, John..." you smiled.

He made his way around and settled on the couch next to the armchair where you sat.

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small sample bottle of whisky—one you’d bottled yourself. The amber liquid swirled inside as you handed it to John with a playful smile. “Thought you might like to try this,” you said, your eyes glinting.

John raised an eyebrow, eyeing the bottle. “You’ve got good taste when it comes to spirits, don’t you?” He sounded impressed. “Glad to have an expert—and a collector—around. When did you start drinking like this?”

You chuckled, accepting the compliment with a grin. “Funny story… I was about twenty, maybe twenty-one. A friend from my SCO19 unit gave me this small bottle as a gift. I didn’t know much about whisky back then. I was just happy to get a gift.”

John leaned in, waiting for the rest of the story.

“I caught a nasty cold, sore throat, the works,” you went on, laughing at the memory. “I was miserable, sitting in my flat with this bottle. Didn’t think much of it, so I took a sip. And, well…” You paused for effect. “It was like drinking smoke. I ended up coughing up phlegm like I was trying to hack up my lungs.”

John burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Bloody hell, that’s one way to start.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Yeah, not the usual introduction to whisky, but hey, it worked.”

You quickly added, “Sorry for the gross story,” though you were still laughing.

John laughed harder, his deep chuckle filling the room. “I didn’t expect that, but I like it.”

The laughter faded, leaving a comfortable silence. The tension had lifted, and it felt like the two of you were settling into a new, easier kind of closeness.

The conversation shifted towards dinner, and John glanced over with a raised eyebrow. "So, where do you want to go for dinner tonight?"

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "Dinner? We just had lunch, John. Shouldn’t we be talking about other things?"

John’s lips curled into a playful smirk as he arched an eyebrow. "Other things, like what? Teatime? Aye, we could do that. So, what do you want for tea, Y/N?"

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "No, I meant... what were we supposed to do?"

John’s expression softened, his teasing gaze giving way to something warmer. "Not when you’re not comfortable yet," he said gently, but with a firmness that made you pause.

You shook your head, a confident smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "But I am!" you protested, your voice carrying more certainty now. "I came here ready. I’ve had myself medically checked out," you added, locking eyes with him. "I even bought different sizes of condoms, just in case."

John’s laughter erupted, deep and genuine, his eyes glinting with admiration—and something darker. "Bloody hell, you really came prepared," he said, his voice low, a trace of amusement mixed with a hint of something more intense.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "Would you prefer to be underprepared?" you teased, arching a brow.

John grinned, his body leaning in closer as the air between you thickened with a palpable heat. "No, love. But I didn’t think you’d be so... thorough," he chuckled, his hand brushing against yours in a subtle but deliberate gesture.

You met his gaze with a sly smile, daring him without a word. "You’ve got to be ready for anything, right?"

He nodded in agreement, a knowing look in his eyes. "Aye, absolutely," he said, his voice low. Then, with a playful glint, he suddenly pointed off to the side. "Oh, look, Y/N. Do you see that?"

You followed his gaze instinctively, but before you could register what he was pointing at, John closed the distance between you in an instant. You barely had time to react before his hands cupped your face, his touch warm and surprisingly tender. His lips met yours, soft and gentle, a kiss that was more like a quiet promise than anything urgent.

John pulled back just enough to press another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then one to your cheek, and another to your forehead. Each kiss was light, teasing, and sweet—nothing charged, just the quiet rhythm of affection that left you breathless in the best way.

You didn’t need to say anything; the moment felt perfect as it was, a gentle connection that spoke louder than words ever could.

You set your tea cup down with a playful smile, then swatted John lightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Before he could react, you shove him onto the couch nearby, sliding over to straddle him with a grin.

John chuckled, his hands resting on your hips as you both leaned in, kissing and teasing each other with soft nips and playful murmurs. The air between you both was warm, charged with a kind of lazy intimacy.

Pulling back slightly, John smirked, his eyes full of amusement. “We could spend the whole afternoon like this, you know. I wouldn’t mind.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I mind,” you teased, and without warning, you pulled your turtleneck sweater over your head, revealing the black camisole underneath.

Your camisole followed next, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Your curves revealed in a way that catches John off guard. He's always seen you in loose, shapeless clothes—who knew what you were hiding underneath? Your full figure surprises him, and there's a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

You then begin working on his shirt, gradually unbuttoning it and pushing the material away to expose his sexy muscular physique. His skin is dotted with tattoos and scars, each telling a tale you want to learn more about. You lean back slightly, taking a moment to admire the view before continuing. Your fingers work on his belt, unbuckling it, then move to his pants, unbuttoning them with a deliberate slowness that makes the air between you crackle with tension.

Suddenly, John's large hands grip your wrists, his touch firm yet gentle. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asks, his voice laced with concern and a hint of something more.

You nod, a playful grin spreading across your face. You quickly slip his belt out of its loops, throwing it aside, then unzip his pants and draw them down.

His erection is clearly visible as it presses up against his boxer's material. You swallow as you take in the scene and realize how enormous he is. You have a brief moment of uncertainty as you consider how you're going to swallow him, but you immediately dismiss it. You can't help but laugh at the thought, and a few jaw aches are a minor price to pay. What better way to get a sore jaw than this?

John laughs, delight and excitement shining in his eyes. He teases, "I never really thought of you as aggressive," pointing to the way you've taken control and stripped him with such ease and confidence.

You slowly pull down his boxers, revealing his full thickness and length. You pause, your eyes lingering longer than you intended. His size, now fully exposed, is a vision of raw, masculine beauty—a 'monster' cock, thick, throbbing, veiny, and incredibly long. It's even longer than your head. Can this really fit in your mouth? You shake off the thought, determined to push through.

"John, sit up," you command, pulling him up. He obeys quickly, and you guide him to lean back against the backrest of the couch.

"Y/N, you don't have to do this if you—" he starts, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. But you silence him, sliding off the couch and kneeling in front of him. You grip his massive cock with your small hands, beginning to lick the tip while tugging and playing with his large balls.

He tilts his head back and groans, savoring the sensation and pleasure you're giving him. But you're not done yet.

You lift your breasts, wrapping his cock between them, and press them tightly together. The friction as you move your breasts up and down against his length, combined with your licking, nipping, and sucking, drives him wild. All he can do is watch you, grit his teeth, groan, and breathe heavily, completely at your mercy.

Wanting to push it further, you attempt to deep throat him, starting with half of his thick length already down your throat. Damn, he's big. You begin a steady bobbing motion, gradually taking him deeper and deeper. He tries to push you away, not wanting you to struggle, but you swat his hand aside, determined. Finally, you manage to take him fully, your mouth moving up and down his length slowly at first. Your mouth, jaw, and throat adjust to the stretch, and you pick up the pace.

John is a gasping, groaning mess, watching you intently. He restrains himself, his hand gently holding your hair as he gazes at your face, completely enthralled by the incredible blowjob you're giving him.

You feel his cock twitch in your throat, a sign he's close. Your eyes lock onto his as you continue to pleasure him, unyielding.

"Wait... wait... Y/N, stop, or I might just cum..." he pleads, trying to push you away, his hands gripping your shoulders.

But you're stubborn and relentless. You want to see this sexy man come undone.

You increase your speed, bobbing up and down his length, taking him deep into your throat. He can't push you off—the pleasure and your determination make it impossible.

"Y/N, wait... stop, I'm gonna cum soon if you keep this up..." he struggles to say, but you persist, unwavering.

He grips the nearby throw pillow with one hand, the other tangled in your hair. His hips buck uncontrollably against your mouth. With a primal groan, he climaxes, releasing down your throat. You swallow every drop, willingly. He gasps, catching his breath from the intense blowjob.

You release him with a pop, strings of saliva connecting your mouth to his cock. You lick your lips, a satisfied smirk playing on your face. "You're such a tasty treat, John," you purr.

He sharply sighs, still writhing and catching his breath, his gaze fixed on you.

You lean your head against his muscular thighs, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you gaze at John. He's sweaty and panting, his glistening muscles defining every contour of his body. It's a sight that's incredibly sexy to you.

You wish you could do more, but you know you've done your job well. You've given John immense pleasure, brought him to orgasm, and swallowed every drop. That should be enough to leave him spent, at least for a while.

But you're wrong. The moment John's eyes meet yours again, his strong arms lift you from your knees, pinning you down on the couch. He kisses you passionately, a bruising kiss that leaves you breathless. His hands knead your soft, full breasts, sending waves of pleasure through you. He trails kisses down your cheeks, jaw, neck, and collarbone, lingering on your breasts, nipping and licking like a man starved.

He swiftly unzips your midi skirt, pulling it down and tossing it aside along with the rest of your clothes, leaving you in just your leggings. In his haste, he accidentally tears them as he slips them off you.

"John!" you protest.

"I'm sorry, love, I'll get you another one," he murmurs, before capturing your lips again. He then hooks his fingers into your panties, sliding them down your legs to reveal your damp, eager core. A grin spreads across his face as he takes in the sight. You gulp, anticipating what's to come.

He buries his face between your legs, his tongue, mouth, and fingers working expertly on your clitoris. The sensation is overwhelming, and you melt in no time, panting and biting down on the nearby throw pillow to ground yourself as pleasure consumes you. John feasts on you like a hungry man, his tongue circling and flicking your clit with precision. He curves a finger inside you, pressing firmly against your G-spot, intensifying the sensation. The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear. You try to squirm away, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming, but John's strong grasp on your hips keeps you firmly in place. You have no choice but to surrender to the intense waves of ecstasy crashing over you, your body trembling with each skilled touch.

Your hips start to buck involuntarily against John's face, your body writhing as you lose control, soaring towards your climax.

"Joh-John... I'm... I'm gonna cum..." you manage to gasp out.

"Mmmm, then cum," he rasps against your clitoris, the vibration of his voice sending another jolt of pleasure through you.

You've never been eaten like this before—every sensitive spot attacked with precision. Pleasure and heat spread throughout your body, building to an intensity you can barely contain. You shake and buck uncontrollably faster against his face, your body on the verge of explosion.

John sits up, his tongue lapping at the juices around his mouth, his stare dark and laced with desire and longing. You bite your lip, unsure of how to react to the erotic display of him savoring your taste like it's the most delicious thing he's ever had. Your eyes widen as you notice he's hard again, his glistening cock erect and ready. You can't believe he's recovered so quickly after the intense release from the deep throat you gave him earlier.

"Now, I'm going to have you," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

Before you can even respond, he effortlessly swings you over his broad shoulder and carries you upstairs to his bedroom, your surprised gasps filling the air. He throws you onto his bed, your laughter echoing as he kicks the door closed. Grinning, he climbs on top of you, his imposing muscular frame covering yours.

He peppers sweet kisses on your cheek, the corners of your mouth, your jaw, and your neck, moving back and forth as his large hand plays with your breast, squeezing and kneading. He whispers dirty sweet nothings in your ear, "You taste so fucking good, love. I can't wait to be inside you, feeling you clench around me."

"J-John, can you get the lube downstairs?" you struggle to let out.

"Hmmm? What for? We can make you nice and wet naturally," he teases, his fingers finding your sensitive, swollen clitoris, circling it gently.

"Aaah!" you squeak, swatting his arm away, still sensitive and giggling. You turn your back to him, pressing against his chest and closing your legs. John, not having any of it, pulls you by the waist and kisses your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

"John, come on, we're gonna need that lube..." you ask again, as he continues his ministrations.

"What for? I'll just make you wetter, hmmm?" he teases, nipping the skin below your earlobe, a sensitive spot that makes you giggle and turn back around to swat him.

"John," you say, lighthearted but a little exasperated. "Listen to me... I am technically a virgin... I know you're already in the mood, and wouldn't want to waste time prepping to pop my cherry." You laugh, comfortable sharing this with him because he's proven himself to be a safe and trustworthy partner.

"What do you mean?" he asks, looking at you with a mix of shock and curiosity. The revelation that his partner is technically virgin, despite the incredible blowjob and the intimate moments you shared downstairs, catches him off guard.

"I need that lube, so you can have a good time while you take me at my back entrance... and yes, I mean anally. My back isn't exactly 'virgin'..." you admit sheepishly.

John gets up and stares at you intensely after that revelation, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. The thought of you giving this part of yourself to him, of being the first to have you completely, makes him feel primal. His face darkens with desire as he leans back in and kisses you passionately.

He whispers, "This pussy is mine, love. Mine to take, mine to pleasure, mine to claim. I'll be your first, your last, and your only. I'll make sure of it."

"You look so fucking beautiful, love, all undone like this. I can't wait to finally take you. I'll keep getting you wet until the sheets are soaked and you're ready to take me."

"Don't be silly, John, just take the lube downstairs," you say, struggling and gasping as he pleasures you with his large, long digits. "You're horny, no need to take your time."

He grins, his eyes gleaming with lust and admiration. "Watch me, love. Seeing you like this, losing yourself, is such a beautiful thing. I'll make sure you enjoy every second of it."

John pleasures you relentlessly, his fingers expertly rubbing your swollen clitoris in a slow circular motion before increasing the speed as you near climax. His other hand plays with your breast, squeezing and rubbing your nipple, adding to the pleasure and making you writhe. When you cum, he alternates, inserting two fingers into your entrance and curling them to find your sensitive spot, while his thumb rubs your clitoris again, pushing you further. You end up squirting and writhing against him, gasping and squeaking. John loves the display and repeats the process, playing you like an instrument, attacking your most sensitive spots repeatedly and relentlessly. Your body writhes, your eyes roll back, and your tongue lolls out.

"John... please... just fuck me..." you pant, overstimulated.

"Mmmm... let's get you wetter..." he whispers naughtily, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

"What do you mean wetter? My legs are wet, I've soaked the sheets! Ahhhh!!" you gasp.

John maneuvers you to face him and pushes you back down onto the duvet, taking in the sight of your sweaty, panting body. He bites his lip, the sight of you dripping with sweat and desire is incredibly sexy. He can't help but lean down and capture your lips in a long, passionate kiss. He trails his mouth from the corner of your lips to your cheeks, to your jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, and then to your breasts, where he sucks and nips at both nipples, squeezing them playfully. He continues down to your abdomen and then slides down to your wet, soaking core, where he playfully kisses your swollen clitoris.

Your eyes, which had been closed, open wide as you are overstimulated and sensitive. You quickly move your body and hips away from John's face.

"No, John, I just came!!" you protest, struggling to move backward against the duvet.

But John pulls your legs back to him and begins eating you out once again, his hands playing with your breasts. In a few seconds, you are a gasping, writhing mess, squirming against the duvet, your hips moving against John's mouth. You can't hold eye contact long with John, who is below, looking at you, watching your reaction as he eats you out. His blue eyes are too intense for you, knowing you'll cum again fast if you look long enough. The sensation is overwhelming, and you lose yourself in the pleasure, your body trembling with each skilled touch.

You feel the pressure building again, your body tensing as John's tongue and fingers work their magic. You can't hold back any longer, your body convulsing as another orgasm rips through you. You cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation.

"John!! Please, just take me, please!!" you beg, your body shaking with the force of your release. Your pleas are urgent, your need for him overwhelming. The intensity of your orgasm leaves you breathless, your body limp and satisfied, yet craving more of him.

John's gaze travels from your face down to your core, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "Hmmm? Still not wet enough..." he says cheekily, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"John!!" you let out, in protest. " Either let me have a moment, or I might just pass out," you say, your voice a mix of desperation and playfulness.

"Hmmm, I think you can take a few more... you know, before you pass out," he says playfully, teasing you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

You sigh exasperatedly and grab a nearby pillow, throwing it at John. He catches it with a laugh and leans in to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle despite your frustration.

His playful demeanor shifts as he grasps your chin gently but firmly, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. His other hand finds your breast, squeezing and teasing your nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You gasp into his mouth, but the sound is silenced by his tongue exploring yours, claiming every inch of you.

John's pelvis presses against your wet, sensitive core, his hard cock rubbing against you with a deliberate, tantalizing rhythm. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but let out a soft moan, muffled by his relentless kiss. Your body responds instinctively, arching against him, craving more of his touch.

His kiss deepens, his tongue dancing with yours in a primal, hungry dance. His hand on your breast continues its torturous teasing, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your body aching for more.

John's cock rubs against your clitoris with increasing urgency, the friction sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of him. Your hips move in sync with his, your body begging for the release only he can provide.

You break the kiss, panting and gasping for air, your eyes locked onto his. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming, a mix of lust, desire, and something deeper, something primal.

"Please, John, just fuck me already..." you beg weakly, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

John gives you a playful look, as if reconsidering. "Hmmm, but you're not wet enough yet," he teases, his voice laced with mischief.

You sigh exasperatedly, "Please, John, I need you..."

He sighs softly and leans down for a tender kiss before positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance. Slowly, he begins to sheath himself inside you. His length is thick and long, and he moves with careful consideration, worried about hurting you. You gasp at the slight, sharp stretching pain, despite your wetness, as he pushes in slowly.

He is trying to be considerate, knowing it's technically your first time being taken vaginally.

"Tell me if it's painful, I'll stop..." he murmurs, his voice filled with concern.

"Just push forward, John! Don't mind me," you say, gritting your teeth, your hands gripping his arms tightly, not letting him move back.

He slowly pushes in, his thumb rubbing your clitoris in slow circular motions to alleviate some of the pain. The dual sensation of his cock filling you and his thumb on your clitoris sends waves of pleasure through your body, mixing with the slight discomfort.

"John, no, mmmphh, don't rub, no, no, aaaahhh!!" you cry out, coming undone again, your legs shaking as his length moves a few inches deeper. "Jooohhnnn..." you whine, swatting his arm, but he chuckles and leans down for another kiss, moving deeper and deeper.

When he is finally all the way in, deep inside you, stretching you out, you gasp and pant, the sensation overwhelming. It's tight even for him, despite your wetness. John refuses to move, allowing you to get used to his size. He continues to rub your clitoris repeatedly, making you cum again, your body writhing beneath him as you adjust to his size stretching you out.

After a while, with a kiss, he pulls his pelvis back, his length retracting from your walls, only to push forward again, making you gasp. Your body is prepped and completely ready, the sensation of him moving inside you sending waves of pleasure through every nerve.

And so, he finally takes you, relentlessly, passionately. His pelvis moves tirelessly, his hips thrusting to please you. Your moans are muffled by his kisses, his weight pressing against you as he slides in and out of your warm, tight walls.

A knot forms in your womb, a pleasure unlike anything you've ever felt, building stronger and stronger. "J-John..." you struggle to let out, feeling yourself soar towards a powerful climax, something you've never experienced before.

John increases his speed, both his hands cupping your cheeks, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. His blue eyes, intense and filled with desire, make you weak in the knees and send a surge of pleasure through your stomach. You feel as if you're about to explode.

"You feel so fucking good, love," he growls, his voice low and husky. "Your tight little pussy is gripping me so perfectly. I want to feel you come all over my cock."

The pleasure builds up in your body, intensifying with each thrust. You can feel the heat spreading through your core, your muscles tensing as you climb higher and higher. John's relentless pace sends you spiraling, your body writhing beneath him, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your eyes roll back, your chest heaving as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation. You squirm against John, your hips bucking wildly, meeting his every thrust. The room fills with the sound of your moans and the wet, slapping noise of your bodies coming together.

John leans down, capturing your mouth in a passionate, searing kiss. He swallows your panting breaths, his tongue dancing with yours, claiming every gasp and moan. His hands grip your cheeks, holding you firmly as he kisses you deeply, his body moving in sync with yours.

Your orgasm crashes over you, waves of ecstasy pulsing through your body. You cry out into his mouth, your voice muffled by his kiss. Your body convulses, your inner walls clenching around his cock, gripping him tightly as you ride out your climax.

John groans, the sensation of your orgasm pushing him to the edge. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. "Fuck, love, you feel incredible," he rasps, his voice thick with lust. He continues to move, his hips thrusting, drawing out your pleasure, prolonging your ecstasy.

Your body shakes, your nerves tingling with the intensity of your release. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his own release imminent.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming—a mix of lust, desire, and something deeper, something primal. You can see the strain in his face, the effort it takes for him to hold back, to make this moment last.

"John..." you whisper, your voice breathless, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You reach up, cupping his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. You can feel the tension in his jaw, the heat of his skin.

He leans into your touch, his eyes softening slightly. "You're so beautiful, love," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder and adoration. He kisses you again, softly this time, his lips gentle against yours.

As your orgasm subsides, John slows his movements, allowing your body to recover from the intense pleasure. He continues to press soft, gentle kisses to your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead, his touch tender and caring.

"Shh, love, just relax," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers tracing the contours of your cheek. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Your body begins to relax, your muscles uncoiling as you bask in the afterglow of your climax. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, your breaths coming in sync. His body is still pressed against yours, his cock still inside you, but he remains still, allowing you to set the pace.

He peppers sweet kisses on your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders, his lips gentle against your skin. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, the steady rhythm soothing and comforting. His hands roam your body, not with urgency, but with reverence, tracing the curves of your hips, your waist, your breasts.

"That was... incredible," you whisper, your voice breathless, your body still tingling with the remnants of your ecstasy.

After a few minutes of breathing time, you feel ready for more. You pull back slightly, your eyes meeting his. "John," you whisper, your voice filled with renewed desire. "I want you to cum too. I want to feel you."

He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. A soft smile plays on his lips, and then he's kissing you again, his body beginning to move with yours once more.

The passion between you reignites, and John begins to move his pelvis again, sliding in and out of you at a steady pace. He peppers your face with tender kisses, his lips gentle against your skin. Your eyes flutter closed, your hands wrapped tightly around him, holding him close as you lose yourself in the sensation.

There's no hurry in his movements, no rushed desperation. Instead, he takes his time, savoring you, cherishing every moment. His thrusts are deep and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He kisses your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, his touch tender and loving.

Your body responds to his, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. You can feel the pleasure building again, your muscles tensing as you climb higher and higher. His cock fills you completely, stretching you, the sensation intense and overwhelming.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel so good, love," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I want to feel you come with me."

Your body shivers at his words, your nerves tingling with anticipation. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his own release imminent. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, desperate to feel him come undone.

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. Your bodies move together, the room filled with the sound of your panting breaths and the wet, slapping noise of your bodies coming together. The pleasure builds and builds, your body tensing, your muscles coiling tightly.

"John," you gasp, your voice a breathless whisper. "I'm so close..."

He leans back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming, a mix of lust, desire, and something deeper, something primal.

John maintains a steady, slightly increased pace, his movements deliberate and controlled. His forehead rests against yours, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. As he retracts, he whispers sweet nothings against your lips, his voice a low, husky murmur.

"I want to feel you come undone, love," he breathes, his pelvis continuing to move in a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure through your body. "Let go with me."

Your body responds to his every touch, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. You're close, just as you said earlier, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your toes curling with anticipation. The sensation is overwhelming, your muscles tensing as you climb higher and higher.

"John... John!!! Joohn!!!" you cry out, your voice a breathless, desperate plea as you reach your climax. Your body convulses, writhing against him, your inner walls clenching around his cock. The intensity of your orgasm sends shivers down your spine, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

John follows soon after, a primal growl escaping his lips as he releases inside you. His lips and head press against your cheek, inhaling your scent, kissing and nipping your skin. His body shudders with the force of his own climax, his breath hot against your ear.

You both pant heavily, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in unison. John's weight presses against you, his body still covering yours. He holds your waist firmly, and in a fluid motion, flips you both over, so that you're now lying on top of him, his body supporting yours.

The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, the air thick with the scent of your combined arousal. You lie there, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your shared climax, your limbs entwined, feeling deeply connected to each other.

----------

You wake up that evening, your body deliciously sore and sated after spending the entire afternoon making love. After that intense climax, you both went for another round just half an hour later. This time, John's restraint was gone, his movements more urgent and passionate.

You climaxed repeatedly, each time more intense than the last, your body writhing and squirting with each wave of pleasure. The duvet beneath you was soaked, showing just how intense your shared passion had been. John, with a hint of sadistic pleasure, loved watching you lose yourself completely.

This continued until you both reached your final, explosive climax. Exhausted and overwhelmed, you passed out almost immediately, your body limp but deeply satisfied. The room is quiet now, the air still thick with the scent of your combined arousal, as you lie there, basking in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy.

John lies asleep beside you, his breath deep and even. You can't help but smile softly as you take in his peaceful form. Gently, you slip out of his warm embrace and the cocoon of the duvet, the cool air of the room prickling your skin. The evening sky outside is a canvas of purple, orange, and blue, painting a serene backdrop to your movements.

Your body aches pleasantly as you make your way out of the room, each step a reminder of the passionate hours spent with John. The house is quiet, the air chilled with the winter season. You gather your discarded clothes, a small smile playing on your lips as you see the state of them—a torn camisole strap, leggings, and knickers strewn aside in the heat of the moment.

Careful not to wake John, you tiptoe downstairs to the first-floor bathroom. The warm spray of the shower is a welcome relief, washing away the remnants of your passionate encounter. As you clean yourself, you notice the marks John left on your body—little reminders of his intensity. You sigh, a mix of exasperation and satisfaction, thankful for the concealing layers of winter clothing.

Your thoughts drift back to your first time with John. The memory of the pleasure sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but smile at the recollection. Finishing your shower, you step out, dry off, and slip into comfortable loose pants and a cozy turtleneck sweater.

Feeling refreshed and content, you make your way to John's rustic kitchen, ready to prepare a warm dinner to cap off the perfect day.

As you're cooking dinner, you hear hurried footsteps followed by John's voice calling out for you.

"Mmm? I'm in the kitchen, John!" you respond, hearing his sigh of relief.

A few seconds later, he enters the kitchen, his eyes softening as he sees you. He walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. He inhales deeply, taking in your fresh scent, his breath warm against your neck.

"I thought you ran away," he murmurs, a hint of concern in his voice.

You turn slightly to look at him, a playful smile on your lips. "Why would I run away? It's freezing outside, and thanks to you, my legs are weak and sore. I can barely walk, let alone make a run for it."

He chuckles, his grip tightening around you. "Well, maybe you finally realized I'm too much to handle and decided to make a run for the hills. Can't say I blame you; I can be a lot."

You grin, poking him playfully in the chest. "You're right about that. I'm completely worn out, thanks to you."

He laughs, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And yet, I plan to subject you to it all over again. But first," he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "dinner smells amazing. Almost as good as you."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "Well, you need to freshen up first. I won't have you eating dinner naked."

He leans in, his voice a low rumble. "Who says I need clothes to enjoy a good meal?"

You sigh exasperatedly, turning off the stove. "Out, John. You're not allowed in the kitchen until you're fresh and dressed." You playfully push him out, laughing as he feigns protest.

Later, John returns, freshly showered and dressed, finding the dining table already set with care. He helps you put the finishing touches on the meal, his hands brushing yours as you work together in a comfortable rhythm. The room fills with the warmth of the food and the soft glow of each other's company.

Dinner is a cozy affair, the clinking of glasses and the hum of quiet conversation creating an intimate atmosphere. After the meal, you both clean up the plates and utensils side by side, the simple domesticity of the moment bringing a contented smile to his face.

As the evening wears on, John's earlier promise lingers in the air. With a playful smirk, he takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. True to his word, he subjects you to another round of intense pleasure, leaving you both breathless and deeply satisfied. You collapse into each other's arms, the world outside forgotten, as you laugh softly and say, "Well, I guess I can handle a little too much after all."

John grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Challenge accepted. Let's see how much you can really handle." And with that, he pulls you close, ready for another round. A/N:

Sorry for the delay, everyone! I know this chapter took a while, but I wanted to make sure it came out just right. It’s been through its fair share of rewrites, but I hope the end result is worth it!

This is the final chapter for this series. The story will continue in the form of one-shots moving forward, but don’t worry—I’ll be putting together a masterpost to help you follow the timeline.

And, of course, I hope you enjoyed your first time with the Captain! (HAHAHAHA!!) Now go hydrate or something—you’ve earned it. 😏

Also, a quick shoutout: the house described in this chapter is inspired by @eleu22's moodboard for John Price’s home. I saw it, loved it, agreed with it, and then tried to create a house and an interior based on that using The Sims 4. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! 🎮✨

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