#captain price x female reader

[bunnyinvanilla]

getting stood up -or ditched- by ur stupid boyfriend and desperate for a way home cause a lil bunny can’t walk home alone at night so as a last resort, you call dads bsf price, who is more than happy to pick up his best friends little girl xx and he can’t drop her off without showing her what a real man is

ps: i absolutely adore your writing x keep it up bby

a defeated little sigh slips from your glossed lips as you stare at the text message, received fifty minutes after you’d sent the first one.

“i don’t think i’ll be able to make it tonight, i forgot about it and now i am busy, sorry!”

you weren’t sad he couldn’t make it, of course, you would’ve appreciated it if he’d at least warned you about his little slip of memory, but if anything, that little mistake only sealed your mind even more — it’s not like you were a couple, you’d only been on a date once, and this was supposed to be the second one. clearly, he wasn’t interested, and you weren’t either, but you’d been left alone waiting for him for more than a hour, like an abandoned little bunny. you didn’t deserve this, you deserved a princess treatment.

nibbling on your bottom lip, you stood outside the building, the night breeze cold against your bare thighs as you considered your options — you couldn’t possibly call your father, he’d be livid with both the guy for living you alone at night, and you for ending up in this reckless situation. also, you didn’t want to make him worry too much.

so, your baby pink nails clipped against the screen as you recklessly quickly typed the number of the only person you trusted the most, the only one you could think about that could come and save you. only tree ringings passed by, before you heard his deep, gruff and rough voice from the other side of the phone.

“hello?”

your heartbeat immediately increased, effected by his low tone, beating faster and nervously. he sounded rougher, huskier.

“sir?” you tried to swallow down your heart, poor thing trying to flutter outside of your chest — your cheeks were painted red, covered by a warm and bright blush.

“doll?” you caught the slight urgency in his voice, though it sounded controlled and steady as always. a few seconds of silence passed after his reply, and you imagined him glancing down at his wrist watch, before muttering out “what’s wrong?”

“i’m fine, im really sorry to bother you at this hour—“

“you never bother me, sweetheart. what happened?”

you hesitated, looking down towards your mary jane white heels “can you please come pick me up? im alone and i didn’t wanna call my father cause he’d get angry, pretty please?”

you bit your lip, torn between relief and regret for deciding to call him without even thinking twice. maybe he’d been sleeping, tired after work—?

“where are you, princess?”

“outside of a restaurant, i’ll text you the address, okay?”

the sudden rustling of fabric and the light jingle of keys echoed from the phone, and you could picture him standing up, his broad, muscular body walking towards his door “wait for me, doll, be there in a few”

less than ten minutes went by when you recognized his old fashioned car, driving up to a halt right in front of your place on the sidewalk. you mentally prayed and thanked God for sending you your personal knight, the rumble of the car’s engine the only sound around the otherwise peaceful and too silent air.

you quickly opened the passenger’s door and got inside of the car, immediately filled with the familiar scent of cigars, tobacco and expensive cologne that swirled around you.

“thank you for coming, sir,” you were nervous, you felt embarrassed, and he could see that, under the dim light surrounding the car, his sharp and intense eyes never left you, taking in the way your fingers fidgeted together, hands resting on your lap like a squirming bunny that couldn’t handle being too close to him.

even in the dark your blushing cheeks were so bright, he could see them, red and flushed — with one large hand gripping the steering wheel, he leisurely admired your short dress, before starting the engine and driving away.

“who do i have to kill, mmh?”

you almost gave out a smile, but only shook your head at him. “no one, sir, im okay”

“date stood you up, bunny?”

you loved his nickname for you. it made you blush and heart flutter.

there was no point in telling him a white lie. with a soft sigh, you leaned your head back on the seat. “it wasn’t a date..he’s not even my boyfriend. we’ve gone out once and today we were supposed to have dinner together. but he clearly wasn’t interested since he texted me that he’d forgotten and was apparently too busy to tell me instead of ditching me and leaving me all alone”

john kept driving, and you dared a shy glance towards him. he always radiated confidence and strong masculinity — he was so handsome, so respectful and manly, the manliest man that existed. he was a real man, the one you truly wanted, and no one could ever take his place in your heart, your poor heart was aware of that. a little, sweet and too young girl falling for a man too old for you, old enough to be your father.

only then, a glimpse of an amused lazy grin appeared beneath his thick, dark beard, littered with gray on the right spots. he shook his head once, focused on the road, “stupid kid, he was. he’s merely a boy, love, boys his age don’t know shit about how to treat a sweet bunny like you, sweetheart. dumb dog”

you blushed more at his words, clenching your bare knees until they touched, your thighs exposed and filled with goosebumps provoked by the chill night air and his deep voice.

“doesn’t matter, it can happen. im not sad or anything, just…it feels mortifying. he could’ve at least texted me, you know? could’ve just told me he didn’t want to go out anymore. makes me feel like im insignificant. that’s why i’ve never liked guys my age.”

you couldn’t even stop that last line from slipping out of your glossed lips, at that point, you’d just been rumbling to him. he remained quiet, listening to you as he drove, and you recognized the familiar ice cream place, the trees and local church that were close to your neighborhood.

“bunny, that kid was an asshole, ‘s not your fault. an angel like you deserves a real man who knows what he wants and what you want. not some idiot” he punctuated the last word with a gruff chuckle, the sound vibrating around the tiny space between you. “don’t waste time with people like him. could pay him a visit, if you want”

“please don’t sir” you quickly said, your lips already curving in an entertained smile, “we’re never gonna see each other anymore, anyway”

“made my bunny stay outside all alone at night, could send him to jail. gonna make him be real busy behind bars,” you knew he was being playful just to make you smile, but his voice sounded even lower, deep and rough, with a hint of threatening to it. “why didn’t you call your dad?”

you hesitated, blinking at him from under your long lashes, puppy dog eyes shy and timid as you shrugged “he would’ve gotten man at him for leaving me alone and at me for ending up in this situation, always finds a way to blame the victim.”

you saw him shifting gear, and without even realizing it, you were already on your main street. tilting your head towards the darkened mirror, you recognized your front porch, standing in the dark with no lights on. your dad must’ve been asleep, or maybe was waiting for you to come back in his room. but from the windows, you saw that all the lights were off.

“im glad i called you, sir, thank you for coming and helping me. i really don’t know how to thank you” you turned towards him again, giving him another smile.

“was a pleasure, bunny, no need to pay me back. just seeing you in this short dress is enough.” he turned off his car, smirking lazily at you with a look that made you shiver and turn into flames, flushing red and warm. you wanted him so bad, you felt bad for how much you wanted him.

you swallowed, fluttering your lashes at him, grabbing your purse and pushing your heels down, as if reminding yourself that you had to say goodbye and go. “w-well, then, thank you again, sir,” blushing like shooting stars, like the bright rays of the sun, you leaned closer to him, wanting to give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

as soon as you leaned over, you felt his hands grab your waist, tugging you by your hips and pushing you against his lap. you almost squeaked, and your lips found his mouth, instead of his cheek. he waisted no time throwing your legs on his sides, making you sink against him, practically straddling him. the sudden contact made you press your mouth more firmly against his, muffling a little sound as a rush of warmth spread between your legs.

he trailed his hand over your neck, until it tangled in your long hair and grabbed a fistful of it to tilt your face against his. he kissed you hard, almost violently, like a starving, animalistic man. you whined against him, throwing your hands around his neck, the pain in your scalp from how much he was pulling your head mingling with pleasure.

you parted your lips slightly as he pushed his tongue inside of your mouth, licking every free inch until it pressed against yours. his free hand trailed under the hem of your sundress making you whimper and cling closer to him. you felt the cold metal of his rings against your bare thigh as he gripped your flesh, brushing his hand up and down until it reaches the hem of your panties.

you skipped a breath, tilting your head to give him more access as he devoured your lips, crashing against them in a feverish kiss full of bites, tongue and teeth.

“sir, sir—“ your words were muffled by the kisses, but you didn’t want to stop, you only wanted him, to feel him and to be with him.

he parted only for a second, looking down at you with a hungry, dark gaze “shhh, shhh doll, don’t wan’ anyone to wake up, huh bunny?”

he grabbed your chin, pressing his mouth heavy against yours. “you know how hard it is to see you going out like this, how badly daddy wants to have you all to himself, mh?

your breath grew heavier, and you could only nod at him, breathlessly, doe eyes glimmering, big and innocent and so needy.

“look at you…so fucking innocent, such a good girl, no one deserves you, angel. gonna be the death of me, looking at me so innocently, when I know how much you want daddy to have his way with you, don’t you, bunny? a needy bunny on my lap, fuck,”

you nodded again, whining and hiding your head against his neck when his hand lowered between your legs, tracing your inner thigh with a steady movement, like he wanted to savor it, take his time, but couldn’t wait any longer. “yes sir, wan’— wanna be with you, I—“

“know you do, bunny, i know sweet thing. only this old man knows how to treat you like the princess that you are, made of sugar. shit, having to talk to your dad when you’re around, acting like i don’t wanna throw his little girl over my shoulder and have my way with her, having to hold myself back. you on your little skirts that make me go mad, your fucking ribbons…”

you bit your lip and shuddered against him, blushing shyly at his words, that made your heartbeat quicken, go faster. he always treated you so well, like he was your bodyguard, like you were his little princess. a little helpless mewl left your lips, as you sought for his lips again, pressing another kiss on his mouth, that he quickly deepened — the kiss filled the car with lewd sounds, his tongue heavy and wet against yours, but you wanted more.

“please sir, please, anything,” you whimpered, and he cooed at you, letting out another deep chuckle that vibrated against your chest. your lips were puffy and red from his mustache and salt and pepper beard that scratched your skin.

”what do you want, doll? mmh? come on love, use your words, know you can.”

you were too shy to ask him or to address what you wanted, hoped the way you fluttered your lashes innocently could speak for you. “just you, daddy..and, and…”

he softened his hungry gaze when you trailed off, and caressed your thigh. “daddy can’t give you that now, love. you deserve more than a stolen moment in the midst of chaos. and definitely not here” with a gentle tug, he brought your hand to his lips, pressing soft kissed on your knuckles. “wanna get off on daddy’s thigh? like a good bunny? mmh?”

you nodded again, shyly yet eagerly this time. lifting the skirt of your sundress to shift your position, he sat you on his thigh, coming in contact with the denim of his jeans, and you shivered when you felt the muscle of his leg against your clothed clit. john leaned back, playfully patting your lower back.

“alright bunny, hands on my shoulders, like this; good girl. now, just move your hips, back and forth, like this— yeah. good girl, like this, fuck, can feel you, see? ‘s not hard, angel” his hands were heavy and secure on your waist, steadying your movements as he guided your hips to buck against his thigh.

you were new to the sensation, didn’t know how to move, but the friction made you whine slowly, almost inaudibly. not to his ears.

“feels good, bunny?”

“mmmhh” you nodded, rolling your hips against his thigh, searching more of that strange feeling. you lowered your head, your cheeks growing red, a bright blush that he could almost taste on his own lips. you were shy, inexperienced, a virgin, and john was the only one who could teach you everything you needed to learn.

“that’s it baby, make yourself feel good. take your time,”

“don’t know how—“ you whined, desperate for his help. his hands ached on your waist, wanting to hold you, to undress you, to grasp every inch of your soft skin with his rough hands. and it was torture, seeing you like that, whining and needy for your daddy’s help, having to physically stop himself from touching you freely :(

“you’re doing so well f’me, bunny, good girl, find out how you like it, yeah, sweetheart, you should see yourself right now. pure sunshine,” he squeezed your hips and you yelped, letting out a soft whimper, your thighs clenching against his, as you tried to steady your movements, your clit brushing against the denim and making your panties grow damp.

the familiar sound of your ringtone startled you, and you almost screamed when it echoed through the dark space of the car. you stopped your movements, catching your breath. blinking as if you’d just woken up from a dream, you crouched yourself towards the passenger seat and hastily grabbed your phone, taking it out of your pink purse.

dad. his name sparkled on the screen, and you felt john physically tense against you, the muscle of his jaw thickening when he saw his name. begrudgingly, you picked up, holding your phone against your ear with a loud heart thundering in your chest.

“dad?” you tried to breath normally, your cheeks felt burning hot, and your voice was shaky. “im…im almost home, yes, it went…”

you dared a shy look at John, whose jaw was clenched, and whose hand still hadn’t gotten off your bare thigh. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, I have the keys yes. You can go to sleep, im fine”

when he hung up, you loudly swallowed. you couldn’t believe what you’d been doing. straddling your dad’s best friend’s thigh, in his car. there was no way you could look at him in the eyes after that. your face blushed like it was on fire, and your eyes looked down at your ruffled skirt,

“I—I— thank you, sir Price, I’ll be going now—“ you stammered, your heart pounding like it never had before. you tried to reach out for your purse, but john quickly grabbed you by your chin, keeping your face in front of his — his think fingers sprawled over your jaw, and his voice was almost animalistic, a bare growl when he spoke against your lips. he was pissed, he felt like a dog who’d just been teased with a bone, just to have it taken away from him right before his eyes.

“when i do finally get my hands on you, doll, nothing and no one will take you from me, understand?”

you nodded, breathless.

“understand, doll?” he repeated, again, making you flinch with pleasure.

“yessir”

“good girl,” he rasped the word against your lips, before pressing a soft kiss on them. “now, goodnight, bunny, hop back to your pen.”

[dumbbitchgalore]

Old Man!Price has a thing for pretty little things.

He'd be the type of soldier to randomly pick up a dandelion or random weed flowers, inspecting it closely before crushing it in his calloused palm as if he was not admiring it a moment ago.

And you're no exception.

Pretty and perfect. An invitation for corruption as if you're begging to be ruined, shown no mercy and totally under his control. You're perfect for it, almost too perfect as if reality is playing a cruel trick on him by putting you into his arms. It was too easy, very easy but John doesn’t complain. He knows better than to fuck up a good thing by overthinking. 

John holds your nose closed, stopping you from breathing for a moment. He tsks you at your feeble attempt to take his whole length and currently you are paying the price. Eyes glaciated with struggle, slobbering down his length, your drool dripping onto your tits- a perfect display of submission, compliance. 

“I told you you couldn’t take me all the way but you just had to argue with me, didn’t you?” John says, his voice dark and glazed with authority. 

You let out a pathetic, muffled whimper, your gaze filled with apology and regret. He lets go of your nose allowing you to get a breath of air as you pull away from his cock breathing heavily and babbling a series of ‘I’m sorry’s’. 

John sighs as tears roll down your flushed cheeks.

“I’ll give you one more chance, dollface. Open wide.” 

You part your lips hesitantly, scared of disappointing him. John pushes his leaking cock past your lips, your tongue instinctively darting out to lick the tip, gathering his pre-cum as you savour the taste of his salty goodness. A soft moan of satisfaction leaves your mouth as you try your best to take him fully. 

John shudders, groaning, his eyes screwed shut. Damn it, he didn’t want you to do that, he was gonna end up cumming and at his age, there was no way he could be ready for another around straight after. 

He grips the armrest trying to think of anything else other than his pretty babe sucking his cock so bloody well. 

Ponies… Beer… Shit- No, beer makes me horny… the SAS… military life… my birdie sending me a boudoir album on our first anniversary when I was away- Lake… Lake house… Holiday… Birdie in lingerie… pretty boobs, soft, warm… Wait, no- Ah, fuck…

He gives up as he feels the impending coil about to snap. Grabbing the back of your head, he shoves his whole length in not caring about your comfort. Your nose nuzzles against his dark bush, musky scent engulfing you. John cums, cums so hard that it makes you gag and spill out of your mouth. 

You pull away panting, swallowing what remains of him. Looking up at him, you raise an eyebrow at the sudden loss of John’s control. He laid back, spent and heaving with his arm covering his eyes. 

“Let's go to a lake house, Birdie.”

[slater-baby]

Tags: Age Gap, Daddy kink, overstimulation

Price gets whiskey dick HARD. Like, literally, a glass at dinner and it’s liable to happen

Though, it never really bothered him. It just means he has more time to spread you out over the mattress, bully his clumsy, drunk fingers into your soft cunt, and swirl his tongue around your clit until the taste of alcohol has left his mouth…it also conveniently gives him more time to loosen up his creaky knee joints enough to fuck you lmao

When you first started dating, Price was a bit worried if a man like him would be enough to satisfy a young bird like you. But the first time he took you home and leant you over his bed frame, your sweet little thighs raw and sore from chafing against the hair on his graying beard…

Well, he didn’t see the point in being embarrassed about having a take a couple of viagra to get it up.

After all, you were so fucked out after waiting all that time, brain fried from more orgasms than you could possibly count, that you hardly noticed when he let go of you.

It was nothing short of perfection, looking at you like that. Sprawled out on his mattress, panting like you’d just run a marathon.

Meanwhile, he leans against the bathroom doorway, popping a little blue pill between his teeth, flicking his belt buckle out of the loops.

“Shhh—don’t worry, baby,” he coos, stepping towards your beautiful, ruined body, “Daddy’s almost ready now. Only half ‘n hour more before the pills start workin’…”

When tears start falling from your eyes mere seconds after your fifth orgasm of the night…well, John drinks them in just as well as a glass of whiskey.

“Shit, birdie, don’t start cryin’ yet…gonna let an ol’ man like me outlast you in bed? Where’s your sense of pride gone now, huh, darlin’? Now, spread your legs, baby, c’mon. I didn’t take all those lil’ pills for nothing, yeah?”

[elysianightsss]

John, he’d been waiting for this moment, been waiting for you to come through the door with tired eyes, an ache in your bones and your head pounding so much you were disappointed that your instincts had kicked in when you slipped on some ice outside and caught yourself instead of letting yourself get knocked the fuck out. So disappointed.

And after a long train ride into the beautiful countryside, a taxi ride to the rustic cabin that always looked more like a cottage to you, you weren’t even bothered about special greetings anymore.

You practically collapsed on John’s lap, curling up there. Your sleeves pulled over your fists because you once again forgot a coat on the way out of your flat. Rubbing your tired eyes with said sleeve covered fist, you mumbled out a sleepy ‘hello’ to which he chuckled pulling your hand away from your now red eye.

“Hello to you too love.” You snuggled further into his neck, thankful that he had trimmed his mutton chops and beard down so they weren’t massively bushy and tickling at your nose like last time. “Long day?”

“The longest.” At this he grinned. John had been waiting for you to have a bad day at work so he could convince you to quit and live off of his money. He’d mentioned it so many times before but unfortunately you always thought he was joking and when he had rasped it into your ear while he was buried deep inside you, you thought that he was just being his usual possessive self.

Not fucking true. Okay it’s partly true, but John was serious. He wanted to put you up in his well polished cabin. Wanted to marry you so you couldn’t argue against him when he said ‘what’s mine is yours’. Wanted to come back from missions to find his cute little wife in his bed. He wanted to spend his free time gardening and baking with you. Going to the farmers market with you and he always wanted to try his hand at painting.

John Price wanted nothing more than to come home to you swollen with his child. Couldn’t wait to take leave so he could take care of you properly. Desperately wanted nothing more than to be there when you bore his child, holding your hand and telling you ‘you’re doing so well, my brave girl’. Wanted to see the sweet little baby that you made together on your hip while you told him all about the new curtain samples you got because ‘the ones in the den are ghastly’ as you so eloquently put it.

And now this was his chance to broach the subject seriously with you. If you agreed, which was a big chance because of how dishevelled you looked and how exhausted you must have been feeling. Then that was brilliant.

If you said no? Maybe he would have to resort to the old ways. Getting you fired. Getting you evicted. Taking all the fight out of you until you truly are broken and begging him for help. It’s not nice but it’s necessary.

“I have something I want to discuss with you sweet’art.” . . .

[luvvictoria]

bro. Dad Bod!Price. Oh lawd I'm feral again.

Captain Price with a slight dad bod — It’s a little soft around the middle, but still enough muscle for when things get serious. His broad shoulders and arms still have that power, but the gut has a bit more... character, adding to that rugged, comfortable vibe. He’s definitely the type who loves a good steak and beer after a long mission.

Flirty, confident banter — Price isn't shy about showing affection, but it’s always got that playful edge. He's the kind to give his girl a smirk while wiping off his beard, letting her know he’s been thinking about her all day. When they’re in public, he pulls her in close, wraps an arm around her waist, and plants a kiss on her temple, always making sure everyone knows she’s his.

Teasing in private — He loves teasing her about her special appreciation for his dad bod, and he’ll make sure to flaunt it. Maybe after a shower, he’ll let the towel hang a little lower, letting her get a good look, and give her that ‘What do you think?’ look, before bursting into laughter when she blushes and tries to act cool about it.

Spicy moments — Late-night raids aren’t the only things that get him worked up. After a long, exhausting day, Price pulls his girl in by the waist, making sure she feels the heat of his body. He’s the type to take his time, slow and deliberate, but when he’s in the mood, there’s that raw, animalistic energy that matches his deep, throaty voice.

Post-battle intimacy — He likes to unwind in ways that aren’t always conventional. After a mission, when everyone else is passing out, Price pulls his girl to a quiet corner, flicking off the lights, and making her feel like she’s the only thing that matters. It’s about connection, but he’ll remind her who’s in charge when things heat up, and he’s definitely not shy about showing that alpha energy when it comes to the bedroom.

Sweetness underneath the spice — Despite the tough exterior, Price is a softie when it comes to his girl. After a particularly intense night, when the aftershocks of passion still linger in the air, he’ll wrap her in a blanket, brush a kiss against her forehead, and whisper sweet words of reassurance about how she’s the best part of his day. And maybe a bit of a proud smirk when she’s worn out from him. "Good girl."

His little guilty pleasure — Price likes to indulge in spoiling his girl a little, whether it’s bringing her a snack in bed or giving her a special gift that has nothing to do with the warzone. It’s the little touches that show he’s thinking about her when he's not the hardened soldier everyone else sees.

AND LIKE LET'S THINK ABOUT THE TWO OF YOU AFTER A MISSION , SITTING AT A FIRE CAMP AND HE JUST EATS YOU OUT LIKE WHOIUUGHH

"You know, after a mission like that, I've gotta admit, I've earned a little… relaxation," Price murmured, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the night.

"And what kind of relaxation did you have in mind?" you replied, a smirk playing on your lips as you took a sip of the whiskey that burned its way down your throat. The campfire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the rugged lines of Price's face. The tension in the air was palpable, like the moment before a storm breaks.

Price leaned closer, his gaze intense. "The kind that involves you, on your knees, and my cock in your mouth." His words were a command, but there was a hint of a question in his eyes. He knew what you liked, and he knew you'd give it to him, but he liked the chase, the power play of it all.

Without a moment's hesitation, you set your drink aside and knelt before him. The firelight danced across your skin as you unzipped his pants, revealing his hard, throbbing length. You looked up at him, a challenge in your eyes, and took him into your mouth. He groaned, a sound that was half pleasure, half relief. His hands found their way into your hair, guiding you, setting a rhythm that was both gentle and demanding.

The world around you faded into the background, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the soft, wet noises of your lips sliding along his shaft. The scent of his desire filled the air, mixing with the smoky scent of the campfire. His breathing grew ragged, and his grip on your hair tightened. You felt the power shift, the dynamic between you clear as day: he was the captain, and you were his willing subordinate. But here, in the dark, with the fire's embers kissing your skin, you both knew it was more than just a game. It was a raw, primal need that had been building for hours, maybe even days.

And as you took him deeper, his eyes never leaving yours, you felt that need echo through your body. Your own desire grew, a warm, wet ache between your legs. But you knew better than to act on it just yet. This was his show, his moment of dominance, his way of unwinding the tight coil of stress that came with leading a squad of soldiers into battle. You'd get yours soon enough.

Price's eyes narrowed, and he pulled you away, his cock glistening with your saliva. He turned you around, pushing you down onto the makeshift bedroll, his hand on the back of your neck, keeping you in place. "Now, it's my turn," he growled, and before you could even gasp, his mouth was on your pussy, devouring you like a man starved of the taste of a woman. His tongue slid against your clit, flicking and teasing, and you moaned, arching your back in response. The heat from the fire was nothing compared to the fire he was igniting within you. His hands were rough, but tender, as they parted your thighs, holding you open for his inspection.

You felt his breath hot against your skin, a stark contrast to the cool night air. His teeth grazed your inner thigh, making you jump before he plunged back into the task at hand. He knew just how to touch you, how to make you squirm and beg for more. His tongue danced around your clit before sliding down to delve into your wetness. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, your body trembling with every stroke.

As he ate you out, you couldn't help but think about the man behind the mission, the one who held your life in his hands. The man who was now worshiping your body like it was a sacred temple. His beard tickled your thighs, and you reached down to grip his hair, urging him closer, needing more of him. Your orgasm was building, a pressure cooker ready to blow at any moment.

Price sensed your urgency, his movements becoming more deliberate, more intense. His thumb circled your clit as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them just so. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn't hold back anymore. You screamed his name as you came, the sound echoing through the night and mixing with the distant howl of a wolf. The tremors of your orgasm shook through your body, leaving you weak and panting.

He didn't stop, though, continuing to lick and suck until the last spasm of pleasure had rippled through you. Then, with a final, lingering kiss to your swollen flesh, he pulled back, a satisfied smile playing across his face. "Now, that's the taste of victory," he murmured.

[fictionismyreality3]

Three’s Company 18+

Warnings: 🚨SMUTTTT🚨, unintended exhibitionism, voyeurism

Notes: father daddy forgive me for I have sinned

You know what I’m thinking about?

I’m thinking about getting fucked against two way glass in an interrogation room by Price. He set the whole thing up just to let you experience your exhibitionism kink, making sure that nobody was actually there on the other to see you because you’re his.

Your tits pushed up against the glass, his rough hands on your hips as he slams into you from behind, reaching up to grab a fist full of your hair. Little debauched moans, short and stuttered, leaving your lips with every slap of his balls on your clit.

Both of you unaware that Simon was watching. Entering the room on the other side, he’d initially just been looking for some papers or something when he was met with the sight of your body pressed up against the glass.

And it all quickly devolves into him fucking himself, rutting up against the glass where you are, separated by just a thin pane. Panting and groaning like a mutt, the soundproof interrogation room preventing him from being revealed.

His brain melting out of his dick because something about how you’re just right there, but completely unaware of him drooling into his mask has him literally fucking into the glass and cumming the same time as you and Price.

You and John leave none the wiser.

[konigsblog]

John Price as a pervy stepdad will always have me obsessed

TW: INTOXICATION, NON-CON, STEPCEST. MDNI 18+

It's in Price's nature, a debauched sicko with old-fashioned and taboo beliefs. I mean, how can he not be obsessed with such a stupid, foolish thing like yourself? You're a puppet for his amusement.

Price is drawn to you due to your vulnerability, how you lack the ability to protect yourself, to think independently. You don't notice his perverted glare and the sick comments he utters underneath his breath, his eyes wandering over your figure, admiring every curve, what it would feel like to overpower you and restrain you, take you for his own satisfaction. John knows that you trust him more than anyone else, that you'd never accuse him of being twisted and deranged. To you, he's a protective and caring stepfather. Someone who stepped up for you.

You're too easy to manipulate, coerce, and control. You can't differentiate Price's love from fatherly love, to him being rotten and wrong. His large and scarred hands wander down your body, with the clock striking midnight and a spiked beer pressed against your soft lips. Price uses his authority and role as your stepfather to benefit himself, to leave you helpless and vulnerable beneath him, pleasing himself using your tight, slick holes.

You wouldn't turn down your stepfather, would you? He's been through so much, dollface.

He'll spread your soft, warm thighs after drugging you up, already apologising with a snarky, cocky grin plastered on his face for what he'll do, for the brutality and inhumanity that'll come with his rape sessions. You're compliant, ready to obey. It's like training a mutt, you're eager, patiently waiting for your next command. You won't remember a thing the next morning, that's for sure. You never do, but you feel the shame and guilt, the intense ache between your legs.

“Jus’ relax, doll. Do your papa a favour, yeah? I need this...” he whispers quietly between sloppy thrusts, already forcing himself inside your tight, wet slit while you nod and sob out drunkenly, intoxicated off of the spiked alcohol.

You accept the pain and discomfort, the stretch and disgust that washes over you with each thrust. They quicken, he hits deeper, leaves your bloodied and bruised with his ropes of come painting your body. You lay back, your body contorted into many different positions while you take what you're given, accepting everything just to please the man who stepped up for you.

[barrackspredator]

obsessed with mrs. price who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck that her husband is a captain. don’t bring that authoritative tone home john. the missus ain’t about to have it.

[ebodebo]

I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man!

pairing: john price x fem!reader

wc: 7.2k...sorry lmao plz read…

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, fluff, established relationship, oral (m. receiving), road head, porn w so much plot, hair pulling, angst, emotional conflict, complicated family dynamics, dysfunctional family, i.e., ongoing conflict, reader having familial issues (mostly maternal), age-gap, secret relationship & marriage, & john being a protector.

author's note: this was brought to fruition by a singular barry sloan edit that had me salivating and @sai-int's fic 'a ticket to play', which single-handedly re-sparked my love for price! so, yeah, anyways, enjoy this horny mess!

dividers by @/saradikagraphics!

John Price is a man...

“John, you didn’t,” you hiss, eyes wide as you set down the groceries on the counter, your wrists aching from the heavy load.

“Didn’t know it was your mother, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone sincere. He quickly grabs the bags and begins unpacking the groceries.

You glance at the house phone positioned beside the fridge, then peel off the old sticky note attached there. You read it aloud, “Don’t answer calls from the 406 area code. I’m talking to you, John,” before pausing to think, lips pursed in contemplation.

He opens the fridge, sliding the milk jug inside before carefully shutting the door. When he turns back to see your knowing smile, his eyebrows lift in a silent acknowledgment, a quiet ‘ah’ escaping his lips.

“Well,” you urge, grabbing the aromatics from the counter to put up. “What did she say when you picked up?” You ask, attempting to sound as casual and disinterested as possible.

“Oh. Nothin’ you’d find interestin,’” he hums with a knowing smile as he tears open a pack of paper towels.

You press your lips together. “Well…yeah,” you mutter, picking up a few grapefruits. “I mean, it doesn’t matter to me,” you defend, emphasizing the ‘doesn’t.’ “I just want to know what she thought,” you shrug, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Mhm,” he hums thoughtfully as he gathers the now-empty reusable bags, hanging them on the hook next to the cabinet.

“I’m serious,” you say, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “I really don’t care.”

"I know you don't, hon." He turns to wash the fresh berries in a colander, the water splashing against the metal steadily.

"You don't believe me," you exasperate.

He lets out a low laugh as he washes the berries. "Didn't say that."

You lean against the kitchen island, your body language betraying your frustration. "You were thinking it," you accuse, with a dramatic sigh.

He sets the berries back into the colander and turns his head toward you, a playful half-smile on his lips. “No, I wasn't,” he replies, clearly amused.

You poke your tongue into your cheek, mentally cursing yourself for marrying someone so adept at reading your emotions, your inner conflict laid bare.

“But,” he says, tearing a paper towel to dry his hands. “Now, I’m starting to feel that you do care.”

You don’t respond, trying to avert your gaze as heat creeps into your cheeks like he’s caught you sneaking a cookie from the cookie jar.

“Baby,” he moves closer, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “It’s okay to care,” he whispers softly into your hair, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

You gently shut your eyes, pressing your face into his warm abdomen, finding comfort in his presence.

“Damn it,” you mumble, your words muffled against him. He chuckles softly in response. “Alright, fine,” you pull back slightly, locking your eyes onto his as his hands cradle your cheeks. “I do care. Now, spill the juicy details.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. “Well, she started by checkin’ in on you.”

You release a dry laugh, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, right. She always has ulterior motives," you grumble. "I swear that woman is always up to—"

"Shh," he squishes your cheeks together as both thumbs rest over your lips to silence you. "Will you let me finish?" He prompts, quipping a brow.

"Sorry, yeah," you apologize, your voice coming out muffled and nasal. 

He nods with a smile, moves his thumbs off your mouth, and drops his hands to massage your shoulders. "Said your sister is gettin' married, and she thought it would be nice if you came down for her engagement party this weekend," he supplies. 

Correction remarried.

She's on her fifth? No, her sixth husband now.

Guess she thinks six will be the lucky number.

Who’s gonna tell her?

However, that’s beside the point; you care about something much more…pathetic.

You feel frustrated because all you really want is to know how your mother reacted to the deep, gruff voice of the Englishman who answered the phone.

You wait with a bated breath, eyes wide with anticipation, but his expression remains flat, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What else?" You finally question, unable to contain your curiosity.

"That's all," he plainly says, his words hanging in the air.

You scoff. "She didn't ask about the random guy answering my phone?" You voice with disbelief.

Your mother is a shallow woman, but surely you getting what she’s constantly pressured you into getting would have her jumping for joy.

A sly smirk grows on his lips. "Am I just some random guy?" He jokes.

You smile yourself before pressing a kiss to his lips, arms coming to wrap around his torso. "You’re my husband, so not to me," you begin. "But to her, yes," your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him down to peck his lips again. "You know that," you say matter-of-factly.

His hands drift to your waist. "Mhm, I'm your dirty little secret," he hums softly.

"John," you frown, guilt flooding your brain. "You know I would, but—"

"Just jokes, baby," he interjects, pressing a light kiss on your temple as his eyes light up. "I love you in any way you’ll have me," he murmurs softly.

"God, you’re perfect," you reply with a smile. 

"She did question who I was," he starts. "Had no idea she was so southern," he remarks casually before continuing. "She thought I was the plumber," he quips, trying to lighten the mood slightly.

He tried, but he could feel the tension in the air.

Sees the disappointment and anger in your eyes.

In your posture.

You're fucking pissed.

"Typical," you remark, stepping away from him, arms flailing around. "She—she thinks I'm so incapable of finding someone that she would resort to thinking you're a person I pay before actually thinking you're with me." Your voice is filled with frustration.

"Hon—" John begins, voice soft as his hand reaches for you.

"And she wonders why I never visit," you release a dry laugh. "Never reach out."

"Come ere,'" he coos, hand pulling you by your wrist, so he can engulf you in a hug.

"It's not fair," your voice is once again muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but he can hear the tightness in it and the sniffle against him, a clear sign of your emotional distress.

"No, it's not," he affirms, fingers easing through your hair.

"Nothing is ever good enough for her," you exhale into his abdomen, fueled more by anger than by despair.

John gently kisses your hair while his fingers soothe your back with a gentle massage.

"I’ll never be good enough for her," you mumble absentmindedly, your voice lacking emotion.

"Sweetheart," he begins, his voice low as your hair muffles the sound. "Don't take offense, but you're mother is a real nasty woman. You're fuckin' perfect, and if she can't see that, it's her God-damn loss," his tone rough yet sincere.

You chuckled, a smile spreading across your face as the corners of your eyes crinkled. "I love you."

"Love you so much," he whispers, gently planting another kiss on your head.

He leans back slightly to look into your eyes. "Want me to run you a hot bath?" He asks, gently massaging your shoulders.

"That sounds really nice," you reply, taking a deep breath. "Thanks."

"Course. That's what I'm here for," he says effortlessly, leaning down to kiss your lips tenderly. "I'll let you know when it's ready."

You nod quietly as he moves to draw the warm bath.

The thought of sinking into steamy water and enveloping bubbles soothes your mind.

Honestly, to hell with your mother's opinions.

They just weren't worth the headache.

And there was no way you were going back to that house.

The promise of the bath, with its comforting warmth and enticing bubbles, would wash away your worries and quiet the thoughts swirling in your head.

Visions of your mother and that place would fade, never to resurface again.

"Can't believe she thought I would actually come down," you sigh contentedly, feeling the warmth of your husband, John, as he works shampoo through your hair, creating rich suds.

So much for the visions of your mother fading. 

It had been a whole day since your mother's call, and the weight of her words still lingered, stirring up a storm of conflicting emotions within you.

"Still on your mind?" John asks, eyes hyperfocusing on ensuring the shampoo coats every strand of your hair.

"I just—I don't understand why she thought I would come," you suspire, turning to massage the loofah against John's chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the tension in his muscles.

"Must have gone mad, I suppose," he jests, his fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp, adding a touch of humor to the heavy conversation.

Your lip quips at his joke, eyes lighting at the sight of him taking such good care of you, ensuring your scalp is tantalizingly clean. "Maybe," you murmur. "Because all she ever does is ridicule me and constantly ask if I've found a man.” You gently move the loofah over his chest to ensure he is squeaky clean.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, his hands coming to massage your facial cleanser into your face before returning to the issue at hand.

"Wouldn't let tryin' to examine your mother's psyche take your day, hon," his hands move with familiar ease as he massages the liquid into your cheeks. "You'll never know why. Can't change that,” he says.

"I hate how logical you are," you sigh, finding yourself relaxing at his touch.

He lets out a gruff laugh. "Would you rather me be some git?"

Your eyebrow quips, eyes remaining closed. "What does that mean?"

His lip quips. "Sweetheart, how long have you lived with me here, in England?" He enunciates the last word as he moves you under the faucet to wash away the cleanser's remnants. 

"Not long enough, I guess," you smile cheekily, wiping your eyes free of water to open them. "Honestly, forever isn't even long enough," you add, trying to shift the focus, though it's true; you can't quite remember how long you've been living together  

"Oh," he tuts softly. "Nice save. Can't argue with that," he replies, smirking before leaning in to kiss your lips.

After a stretch of silence, you turn around so he can wash your back with the loofah. Your mind is still swirling with thoughts. "I kind of miss seeing my niece," you find yourself reminiscing.

"Even though my sister and I don't get along too well, her daughter and I have always had a special bond," you say with a sigh.

"What else do you miss?" Since you never really talk about where you grew up, John prods, he's curious.

"Well, in the spring, my cousins and I would go flower picking in the field behind my grandfather's house," you find yourself getting more excited.

"He also had an old peach tree, Mindy, he called it, that we would pick dozens of peaches from and just lay in the shade under the tree and eat them till he thought we might become peaches ourselves," you snicker, turning around to face him, eyes light.

"They were fucking good peaches."

"Sounds like you miss it," he grins.

Your hand turns the lever off, and the water stops, leaving a lingering warmth on your skin. "I do," you confess, stepping out of the shower to grab you and him fresh towels.

"But, my mother knows how to ruin the best of memories," your voice is monotone. "I want those great ones to stay intact, you know?" You shrug, wrapping the towel around yourself, offering comfort.

He wraps the towel low around his waist. "Course I get it, sweetheart," his voice soft yet gruff. "Let's get you all nice and dry, and we'll order some takeout. Yeah?" He asks, reaching for your hand to lead you into your shared bedroom to get dressed.

"Sounds perfect," you voice, the thoughts of going home almost completely absolving. 

A few misses wouldn't make you completely switch gears and go.

It just wasn't worth it.

Only your mother could figure out how to make the enjoyment and amazing things crumble up and burn. 

But you won't let her. 

So, you've made up your mind. 

You will not be going.

That's final.

It's two days to Saturday.

You've been manically counting down the days.

And so, naturally, instead of basking in the serene morning, with birds chirping and the gentle glow of the sun filtering through your kitchen window, you're perched on a barstool, computer propped up, as your breakfast grows cold, hand hesitating over a plane ticket that will whisk you away tomorrow morning to your hometown. 

Just one click, and you'll have solidified yourself as going.

You're only feeling so impulsive because your impulse control, aka your husband, is at work.

Your finger hovers over the 'confirm' button for about twenty minutes.

You know what's holding you back.

The anxieties claw up about your mother and what ifs that could happen.

And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, it all becomes clear.

'Could.'

It's not a promise, just a possibility.

You had spontaneously decided that you wouldn't let the could control your decisions.

Yes, one thing was holding you back, but what about the multitude of things that you wanted to see or the many people who loved and cared about and desperately wanted to see after so long?

You were not going to let the 'could' control your decisions.

You were going to overcome this worry and take the leap.

You sit up tall in your chair, turning your head with a wince as you click "confirm."

"Oh," you murmur. "That was dramatic for no reason," you say monotonously.

But, now you can't help but feel a surge of excitement.

You would get to see your niece after so long.

And the flower field and, of course, Mindy the peach tree.

Who could forget your childhood room full of posters and knick-knacks you collected throughout your teenage years.

You find yourself smiling as you get that familiar chime from your email confirming your flight ticket.

Can't get cold feet now.

You take a swig of your tea, which has long since gone cold, but your throat is parched from the anxiety that grips you, a knot tightening in your stomach.

The mug was a gift from your husband for your birthday last year.

It featured your favorite flowers made into it and even had your birthday engraved on the bottom.

John was always so thoughtful.

You pause your movements, lips hovering over the clay mug, a moment of hesitation freezing your actions.

John.

Your husband.

Of course, he didn't care that you bought the ticket or wanted to go, but he would be pissed if you just left.

Sure, you could wait until he returned home, but the urgency to communicate your decision gnaws at you, compelling you to act now.

You hurriedly reach for your phone, fidgeting to press his number.

He's at the top of your contacts.

You tap your fingers against the cool granite countertop, waiting until he picks up.

It rings.

And rings.

...and rings again.

Until the line picks up, you sit up, ready to unload on him, only for it to be his voicemail line.

"Shit," you curse, hanging up as your foot bounces on the metal footstep on the barstool.

As you sit there, unable to wait until he gets home, you can't help but feel a surge of dramatic emotion. This internal conflict, this emotional turmoil, is what drives you to act impulsively.

But this is a big deal.

You never go home.

Rarely mention it.

So your next actions feel rationalized to you.

Without a second thought, you spring up, grab your keys from the hook by the door, slip your shoes and coat on, and speed to your car, most likely looking like a mad woman. 

But at this moment, who cares about appearances? 

The urgency of the situation overrides any concern for normalcy.

Normalcy is overrated, anyway.

You throw the car into gear, and though you are in a rush, you don't speed there. 

Carefully, you make your way, chewing on your lips nearly the entire drive.

Despite your earlier determination not to return, you find yourself on the way, a plane ticket already in your possession.

The anticipation of what your husband has to say fills you with a slight unease.

He wouldn't be mad.

More surprised than anything.

And honestly, you shamelessly loved seeing him at work.

His professional demeanor, always in control, never fails to impress you.

You can't help but oogle him.

It secretly really got you going.

But, this time, it was a purely innocent visit, of course.

You find a parking spot, ease into the front part, giving the officer guarding the gate your name.

She quickly lets you through.

You are the captain's wife, after all.

Walking, you head straight through a door and through another one.

So many God-damn doors in this place.

Until you reach the middle portion of the base, grass surrounds you, and various equipment is placed orderly around.

Sandbags, wooden ladders, and weights are among the items you see. 

Your eyes sweep the area until they land on the man you're looking for. 

He stands tall, his broad shoulders filling out his uniform, a few strands of hair escaping his signature hat.

His eyes are focused on the recruits, his expression a mix of determination and frustration.

From the looks of it, he's training new recruits, something he doesn't often do, but it's a real treat when he does.

His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his veiny arms. 

His arms, usually strong and steady, now appear more veiny than usual, a sign of his apparent frustration with the recruits. His jaw is set, and you can see the tension in his muscles as he barks orders.

"Runnin' like a fuckin' slug," he reprimands. "Pick up the pace."

You hate how hearing that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Get your head out of your ass," he grunts outs, clearly annoyed. "The hell are you lookin' at," he asks a recruit who, along with a few others, seems to be on another planet, eyes wandering behind him.

John turns to his side to see you in a cute dress, waving to him sweetly. "Course," he lets out a dry laugh, giving you a small wave.

He turns back to the recruits, his authority palpable.

"Eyes off my wife, or you'll be doin' extra laps," he scolds, his tone low but intimidating, before yelling to move to the ladders with Soap.

He makes his way over to you, a warm smile on his face. "Nice surprise, hon," he greets, kissing your cheek.

"I'm gonna go," you murmur.

His brows furrow in confusion. "Go where?" 

You raise a brow at his confusion. "To...see my family."

His eyes bore into your intently. "By yourself?"

"I didn't think you'd want to go," you say honestly. 

"I'm going with you," his tone final, with no room to argue. "You bought a plane ticket?" He questions.

"I did...sorry, I just thought—" you begin before he cuts in, his hand pressing against your cheek. 

"No worries," he says. "I'll get the ticket when I get back to my office," his tone casual. "You're sure about this?"

"I think so," you say. "Plus, if I cancel the ticket, we'll be out six hundred dollars," you laugh out.

"Screw the money, okay? You tell me if you don't want to go," he tells you, face serious.

"If I change my mind, you'll be the first to know," you lean up, pressing a short kiss to his lips. "Also, you should always wear your shirt like that."

His eyes narrow as he lets out a laugh. "You like it?"

"Looks sexy," you purr quietly, teeth coming to bite your lip.

His face warms slightly. "Should see what it looks like off."

"Are you flirting with me, captain?" You say, hand coming to your heart in false surprise. 

"Just givin' you a preview for later," his tone is husky. 

"I'll be waiting," you begin, beckoning him to lower his head so your lips can hover over his ear. "Already so wet just thinking about it."

He releases a low grunt as you press a kiss to his cheek.

"See you at home," you say sweetly as if you didn't just give him a hard-on at the thought of you all wet and needy for him.

"See you, sweetheart," he almost chokes out as you turn to go away, your ass swaying in the dress you wear.

He's going to make you pay later.

And honestly, you can't wait.

You need something to take your mind off tomorrow's morning flight. 

Though it was going to take a lot more than sex to ease your mind.

A horse tranquilizer may help.

No. Too dangerous.

Whatever, you'll take your chances with John's hand all over and in you to have you sleeping and at ease.

Maybe you'll get lucky, and you two can sneak off to the airport bathroom and finally join the mile-high club.

That would definitely keep your mind off things.

For now, you’ll wear a smile, and excitement will radiate from your being.

Everything will be fine.

Nothing bad will happen.

Even so, what’s the worst that could possibly happen?

Statement retracted.

Your trip thus far has been a shitshow, and you haven't even seen your family yet.

Your flight got delayed three hours because of fog.

That was understandable, annoying, but understandable. 

What wasn't was the lady who insisted on sitting between you and John on your flight in the seat you paid for.

An older lady, maybe in her late forties or so, with a determined look in her eyes and a set to her jaw that said she wasn't going to let a little thing like a seat assignment get in her way.

She was nice at first.

She became insufferable rather quickly.

Very persistent.

You deduce she did that so she could sit next to your man. 

It didn't bother you so much, plus you knew if you showed it did, John would make a scene, and you just wanted to close your eyes and sleep, so you let her have your seat and sat by the window instead.

But every time you got settled, eyes closing gently, the soft lull of the plane helping you drift off.

"Going off to college?" She piped next to you, oblivious or noncaring about your eyes shut.

Your eyes open rapidly, and you look at her, awaiting a response. "Uh, no. I graduated a couple of years ago," your voice is drowsy. 

"Oh. You two must be going on a father-daughter trip, then?" She poses.

Your wide eyes drift to John's; a smile etched on his face. "Such a kind father you are," she compliments without missing a beat.

The sheer absurdity of her assumption leaves you speechless, and John can't help but let out a quiet laugh.

"Thas' actually my wife," he says, trying to contain another laugh. 

"Oh," her eyes widen in shock and apparent envy. "Well, aren't you a lucky one," her tone is dry as she eyes you.

That was funny.

But not when she did it about five hundred times on the eight hour flight.

It was like a broken record, playing the same tune over and over again, and you were the unwilling participant. 

Over and over again like clockwork.

Drove you bat shit crazy.

Sure, maybe you could have just told her to shut the hell up, but you kept telling yourself it wasn't worth the fight, and you didn't have the energy to make the effort.

Also, since the lady was sitting in the seat between you, formally yours, you didn't feel comfortable asking John about the bathroom sex.

She would have most likely dropped dead or asked to join.

You didn't want either.

So, it is safe to say that when the plane landed, you sat up excitedly to escape the stuffy plane.

The lady tried to follow you and John out, but you grabbed John by the wrist, dragging him behind you as your legs gained more momentum to try and escape her.

It was like a horror movie.

"Oh my God. She was so weird," you laugh out to John as you manage to get away from her, stepping out of the airport to collect your rental truck. 

"I know. Kept lookin' at me the whole flight," he says with unease as he places your suitcases into the backseat of the truck, shooing away your hands from the bags so he could lift them himself.

"Do we need to get you a counselor?" You half-joke as he opens the car door for you to get in as he moves to the driver's seat.

"Think so," he gruffs before his eyes fixate on you. "You okay?"

You had put the address into the truck's maps system, settling back into the leather seat, eyes now on his. "I'm nervous," you confess.

"Nothin' to be nervous about. I'm here for you, okay? If you need to leave, just tell me," his voice is soft as his hand caresses your thigh in comfort. 

You give him a nod, turning to look out the window at the passing buildings, a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

You had already texted your niece you were coming, so you're sure your mother and sister know. 

It's not like you'd be staying with them.

That's too much too soon.

Plus, you and John could have sex anytime in the hotel with no fears of your estranged mother walking and seeing John balls-deep in you.

It was really better for all parties.

Once you pull up to the house, you swear you could hurl.

"Was this a bad idea?" You ask John nervously as he pulls your suitcases out of the backseat.

He gently sets them on the dirt. "It's just nerves," he says, locking the truck. "Let's scope it out, and if you want to leave, we'll go. No questions," his hand rests gently on your shoulder.

"Promise?" You prod, tilting your head towards him. 

He smiles at you. "You have my word, sweetheart."

You release a deep breath. "I think I'm going to pass out."

He chuckles deeply, hand snaking around your waist to lead you to the front door. "I'll catch you if you do."

You feel your nerves subside with John by your side as you flip up the familiar peach-shaped doorbell cover to ring the bell.

Stomping feet approach, the voice growing nearer and nearer until the front door pulls open to reveal your sister.

Flawless as ever. 

Her eyes light up. "Thought my daughter was tellin' fibs," she jokes, pulling you into a warm, tight hug. "Missed you." Her genuine affection wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

You reciprocate the hug with equal tightness. 

Although you may not have gotten along well, she was still your sister, and you could feel the love a million miles away. 

She pulls away, eyes falling onto the mysterious, hot, stoic man to your side. "Who's this good-lookin' hunk?" She coos, smacking her gun.

"This is my, um, my husband, John," you say, fumbling your words a little.

"Nice to meet you," his voice is low and most shockingly British, as he sticks his hand out.

Cordial as ever. 

"Oh, come on. That's just not even fair, sis," she jests, taking his hand fast and tight.

Her playful banter adds a lightness to the moment that almost absolves your nerves entirely.

"Where's...mom?" You ask, your heart pounding in your chest, the unease apparent in your tone.

She looks back at you. "Kitchen," she says before offering a reason. "She's makin' peach cobbler. Come on in," she steps aside so you and John can enter the door.

The familiar scent of the old wooden floors, the sound of the creaking stairs, and the sight of the family photos on the wall all bring back a flood of memories.

Warm smiles and familiar voices greet you as you step inside.

Cousins, aunts, uncles.

They approach you one by one, their surprise at your arrival evident, but even more so at hearing that you're married to the burly man at your side. 

Your aunts keep him occupied as you wander into the kitchen.

They keep him engaged in their lively banter, shamelessly flirting with him while their husbands sit in the living room, engrossed in their own discussions. 

You feel a little bad for leaving him to fend with the wolves, but he assured you he was alright and all but pushed you into the kitchen.

Sure enough, your mother was busy rolling out some dough on the countertop for the crust for the top of the peach cobbler. 

"Mom," your voice is quiet as you move around the island to where she is.

She turns. "Well, I'll be," she begins, eyes wide and full of surprises. "Ya came."

"I did," you amend with a smile. "And I brought someone I'd like you to meet."

"Some city guy?" Her head moves back to the dough, no longer on you.

"He, yes, he's from the city," your voice is outwardly confused.

"Thought so," her tone is snarky as she delicately lays the dough over the cobbler filling. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" It comes out more defensive than you intend. 

"Nothin,'" she says flatly. "Enjoyen' your fancy life in the city?"

You roll your eyes, already anticipating the direction this conversation is about to take. "Mom," you urge, your frustration palpable.

"No, hon. I get it," she looks up at you, shrugging. "Honestly, surprised you came. Wouldn't wanna dim your new sparkly life," her tone is condescending. "That is why it's been so long, right?"

"It's not like that," you try to justify, but you know it will do no good.

She completely disregards that, instead changing the subject. "Supper's ready," she bussies herself with stirring the gravy. "Better snag yourself a seat quick," her tone is dry. "Table hasn't grown none."

You release a shallow breath, turning around to escape this stupid God-damned kitchen and moving to find John. 

It's a familiar feeling, this resignation. 

Guess some things never change. 

You approach him, and before you say a word, his eyes are already locked on you, body language now stiff. "What's the matter?" His hands are on you in an instant.

You should have known.

He can read you like one of those mission reports he reads daily.

"Nothing," you mutter, forcing a smile, but the words feel heavy with the things you're hiding.

His eyes narrow. "Can't lie to me," he voices.

You'd just about rather crawl in a hole and die than re-account. 

What was supposed to be a happy recount turned sour rather quickly.

"Tell me," he urges, sensing your inner turmoil. 

"Drop it," your tone is more icey than usual. "Please." 

He gives you a light nod, eyes full of concern.

"Let's go eat, okay?" Your hand moves to his, intertwining your fingers, and guilt claws up your throat.

He gives you a nod as you drag him into the dining room to snag a seat at the main table.

Mom was right. The table is still too small to accommodate a family of this size, so another table sits outside and another in the living room. 

Others crowd around the breakfast nook and sit on barstool at the kitchen island. 

This house has never known loneliness. 

Your mother, father, sister, sister's daughter, and your sister's fiance are at the table with you and John. 

Your niece opts to sit next to you, gushing about her new boyfriend, the son of the florist downtown, and asking questions about the city.

"Hush now, darlin.' She gets all fussy about that," your mother chides your niece, referring to your early conversation about you living in the city.

"Mom," you quip, eyes wide at her sheer audacity.

She hadn't even addressed John, just jumping straight into a fight.

Typical.

"I'm just sayin.' Ya jumped all over me for talkin' about it," she says, trying to sound innocent. 

Seems her memory is slipping.

"That's not why I got upset," your tone is teetering between desperation and frustration, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air.

She plops some mashed potatoes on her plate before passing the bowl along. "Then what was it ya were so hurt about earlier, huh?"

You're sure steam is rolling out of your ears.

"You hold a, a vendetta against me for leaving," you spew without much thought, anger taking over. "Because you never got to leave, you take it out on me," you finish, and you're sure you're shaking. 

If all eyes weren't on you before, they are now.

John is leaning back in his chair, eyes wide.

He's kind of scared if he touches you, you'll punch him, so he instead crosses his arm over his chest.

"I think the city is cool," your niece randomly chimes in, clearly trying to ease the tension. "Would love to visit someday."

You give her a smile before your mother starts up again.

"Didn't your mother teach ya about city girls," she snaps to your niece. "Nothin' good ever came from any of em.'" 

You can taste the metallic taste of blood on your tongue; you had bitten your cheek so hard you bled.

"Ain't that right," your mother says, eyes shifting to your sister.

Your sister is great.

Just not in the presence of your mother.

She takes on her personality and thoughts.

Agreeing with her without a second thought

That includes her fights.

"It's true," she snickers. "City girls can't tell a pencil from a pecker."

You find yourself standing abruptly, and your sister matches your action, spewing more garbage. 

And for some reason, her fiance stands up, which makes John stand up, matching his movements.

He's easily a foot taller than her fiance, and he's much more muscular, too.

"Enough," John's low, commanding voice is fitting for a military captain. It splices through the room, the commotion dying as he speaks. "I will not sit here and let you treat my wife like this," his head tilts towards your sister and then to your mother. "Now or ever."

He doesn't even need to yell to get any attention. 

His voice just demands attention already. 

Your sister, usually so quick with a retort, is silent.

The fear in her eyes is unmistakable, adding to the intensity of the confrontation.

She’s scared.

Hell, everyone is.

Well, except your niece, whose lip quips secretly, a small smirk playing on her lips despite the tension in the room. 

"Your daughter came down on her own merit to see you," he points to your mother. "Could have done so many other things, but she wanted to see you," he enunciates the last word.

"Well, she—" Your mother begins, her face bright red with anger, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Tired of hearin' the excuses," his voice cuts through hers. She quickly shuts up, a surprising silence falling over her. "Can't even believe your daughter turned out as amazing as she did growing up with this," he gestures towards you.

He stands with his hands on his hips, disappointment is evident on his face. 

"My wife is a God-damn saint," his voice is rough.

You find your lip quipping at the praise and how much he appreciates you.

He worships the ground you walk on.

That was made abundantly clear. 

His hands reach to rest on your lower back. "Appreciate the food, but we'll be leavin' now," he mutters, stepping back to push his chair in.

You don't argue with him.

Hell, how could you?

He said everything you couldn't

Laid all your thoughts on the table and even added some extra.

He did what he was born to do: protect.

You step away, push your chair in, and turn around, not bothering to say goodbye as you walk to the front door.

You'll text your niece later. 

The chill in the air, carrying the scent of magnolia trees and damp earth, hits you like a slap to the face.

John's hand is still on your lower back, guiding you back to the truck.

He opens the door so you can slip inside as he makes his way around the driver's seat.

The heater is blasting as he shoves the key into the keyhole, and the engine is stirring alive as he easily backs out and pulls onto the road. 

The silence is heavy as he drives down a straight, desolate road.

It's silent for a moment before he starts to comment, apologizing profusely about how he overstepped and saying sorry that this trip turned out bad.

You're tuning him out and instead focusing on how he stood up for you.

He was just such a man.

He always knew how to be what you needed him to be.

Protector.

Listener.

Talker.

He always knew which role to take on to support you, to be your anchor in the storm of emotions. 

Just that thought alone made you incredibly wet. 

You don't know why.

You should be crying from the way things unfolded with your family.

But you're not sad, not even remotely.

Just incredibly horny.

You find yourself slipping the rubberband off your wrist and quickly tying your hair in a messy ponytail.

"Hon," John says, noting your unusual silence. "I'm so sorry," he quickly glances your way before looking back at the road.

You don't speak, opting to brush your hand against his cargo pants as your fingers fumble with his zipper.

He makes a noise of surprise. "What're you doin?'" He asks, his voice breathy.

"You took care of me," you mumble, shimming your fingers under the waistband of his boxers to release his erect cock, to which he grunts. "Want to do the same," your voice is lazy, as your lips brush against the sensitive head.

"Me yellin' at your mother got you all hot?" He jokes though it dies halfway on his tongue as your lips spread open to accommodate his size.

His knuckles are white as he tightly grips the steering wheel so as not to crash.

Your mouth makes a pop noise before you speak. "You're just so sexy. All manly like that," you mutter against his cock, the tingle of your words sending goosebumps throughout his entire body.

"Am I?" He chokes out as your lips move back to encase his cock.

"So hot," your voice is muffled as you take in more of his cock.

"Oh—Christ, thas' it, hon," he groans as you bob your head up and down.

His mind has gone fuzzy at the feeling of your tight throat, taking him so good, even swerving a little, before quickly straightening the wheels.

"So fuckin' good," he grunts, as one hand moves to gather your ponytail in a loose fist. 

Your tongue works in tandem, rubbing against the underside of his cock, sending more pleasure through him. "Such a good girl, babe," he praises, and you just know that your underwear will be soaked. 

"So good." Your moan against him at the next praise, making him sputter his hips up, his cock slipping in your mouth entirely. 

He chokes out some incoherent words you can't make out; taking note of his body going taut, you can presume he's close.

"Gonna," he strains out as you continue bobbing up and down, his hand tightening around the fistful of your hair. “Come."

You bring your hand to pump the base as your tongue flicks across the tip.

He groans with anguish, legs shaking as he comes in your mouth.

You pull your head up, your eyes boring into his so he can watch you swallow out every last drop, even using your fingers to clean up the residue in the corners of your mouth.

His eyes stay glued to your mouth before you yell at him to watch the road.

"Christ," he shouts, gripping the wheel tight to stay in his lane. 

You laugh as you lean, pressing a sideways kiss on his lips.

He can taste himself on your lips.

He almost comes again.

But the high lasts just as short as when you look in the review to see police sirens hot on your tale, the siren invading your eardrums. 

John curses but pulls off to the shoulder, sneakily grabbing his military badge in his pocket.

"You always just carry that on you?" You smile slyly, the body still warm from your escapades. 

"Will come in handy," he assures, rolling his window down as the officer makes his way to his window.

"Evenin', folks. Gotta call from a concerned driver sayin' you were swervin' out of your lane," he says.

"No, sir. Not us," you answer, John glancing towards you.

"That right?" The officer prods. "I'm going to need to see your license and registration, sir," his monotone voice says. 

"Yes, sir," John says, slyly flashing his military badge as he "looks" for his license. 

"You're military?" John nods. "Hell," the officer laughs, tucking his notepad back in his pocket. "I know you aren't some juveniles."

John laughs as he glances over to you, glancing down to see a little remnant of his come on your shirt.

He almost feels guilty.

Almost.

He lets out a cough.

"You alright, sir?" The officer asks, brows furrowed.

"Yeah. Fine," his voice is strained.

You shoot him a look before the officer starts again.

"Well, I'll let ya'll get on your way," he pats the top of the car.

You both issue a heartfelt thanks before John pulls back out onto the road, a palpable sense of relief in your voices.

"Can't believe he just let you off," you groan, hand coming to intertwine his. 

"Thought you'd be happy?" He laughs. "Can get to the hotel in record time now."

You raise a knowing eyebrow. "For what?"

"Saw you squirmin' in that seat," he teases, his affectionate tone wrapping around you. "I need to take care of my girl," he adds, his voice filled with warmth and love. 

You release a shallow breath.

His girl.

You.

Just you.

That's what you loved about loving him. 

You didn't have to keep up with his expectations.

You could simply exist, and he would kiss the ground you walk on.

The thought lit up your brain.

John Price was your man.

And in his eyes, you'd always be his girl.

mini author's note: i'd have to be surgically removed from him...

[wetpussyju1ce]

bear!John Price x Scrawny Wolf!fem reader

+18 mdni

reader who likes to bite and gnaw and chew on John's fingers. she has sharp teeth and is obsessed w the scent and feel of his hairy skin. so she's constantly using him as a chew toy on any given chance. and John never complains. not even when she leaves teeth marks all over him. he's just happy to let her have her way w him. marking him for everyone to see.

reader who enjoys getting smothered by bear!price. she likes how heavy and big he is. how imposing he is as a figure. likes to feel the weight of his muscles and fat against her body as he absolutely rams her sweet pussy to next sunday.

reader who enjoys caressing and petting that man like theres no tomorrow, using a brush to freaking groom his chest hair because he's sooo hairy, so incredibly hairy all over and it's heavenly. and reader doesn't even mind when she sucks on the fat of his skin, the hairs never bothered her, she's a werewolf after all.

price who likes to play wrestle w her. while she bites and growls and scratches. he gathers her in his arms and squishes her under the sheer weight of his body. trapping her. she whines and hisses to be freed but all he does is bury his face in her hair and traps her arms under her body. soon enough he ends up rutting his massive bulge against her ass and he ends up mounting her in record time, grunting and panting as he shoves all of his girth inside her small cunt. She cries and howls and all he does is slam his hips against her ass and legs, his heavy balls continously slapping against her. he ends up shushing her, cooing and licking at her tear soaked cheeks as he makes home inside her guts.

And when they come, John doesn't pull out, instead he moves them to their sides, him being the bigger spoon, still plugging all his come inside her with his cock as he drags fluffy blankets over them both.

John who gets possessive and obsessive whenever winter starts to approach, worries abt his scrawny werewolf mate, tries to constantly feed her to try to fatten her up, feeds her his freshest catch of the day, fruits, bread and eggs. He wraps her in so many layers when it's cold and she's in human form. she's so tiny and gets extra worried about her getting sick, when it's been years since she's fallen sick, but he doesn't care, doesn't want to take any chances.

John who likes to manhandled his tiny mate, lifts her and carries her away from social settings when she's abt to rip someone's face off with her teeth when they piss her off. sometimes he casually goes on abt his day, shopping at the market w his mate on his shoulders. her butt on his shoulder as he holds her legs close to his chest. most of the time she's enjoying a cone of ice cream as he carries all of their shopping with one hand, and does everything with that one hand as well, with no complaints.

nobody ever says anything to them. especially when he's the biggest shifter in the whole village, and she's the one w the sharpest teeth you'll ever meet. so everyone keeps their mouth shut, because really, it doesn't affect them or hurt them.

[bunnyinvanilla]

sugar daddy!old man john price who suggests to use his little girl for an undercover mission — he’d never let anyone hurt, touch, or even lay their eyes on his pretty girl, you just need to wear a pretty short dress, sit on his lap and play along, doesn’t matter if you have no idea what’s going on, just trust him and look cute

the target wouldn’t suspect that he’s the captain of the military task force sent to get him, because he’s just smoking his cigar, wearing an expensive suit with a young, too young sweet girl on his lap, a faux expression of concentration towards the dices — so he just keeps playing that poker game with him, not having a clue that when the time is right, price will send his bunny girl back to the car, safe and sound, and take his weapon out of his pocket.

“just wait for daddy in the car, aight doll?”

“are you gonna be alright sir? :(“

oh, he’s been through such worse missions, but it’s cute seeing his bunny worry for him, after helping him distract the target :) poor bunny you have no clue what you’ve even been helpful with

“sweetheart, I’ve got scars and tattoos older than you, daddy’ll be fine, angel”

[dumbbitchgalore]

John Price is a muncher.

And that is a fact.

Old Man!Price on the other hand is a devourer.

This man has got so much practice under his belt that he has no reason to boast about his sex life and skill to anyone. So when you decide to give him a chance seemingly bored with the recurring playboys that you're dated coupled with your inclination for older men, Price didn't seem like a bad option.

Sure he's given up trying to dye his hair, letting the grey strands sprout from his head and beard, and he's developed a pudgy body that puts he's once muscular physique and brute strength to shame but he makes that all up with his skill.

Old habits die hard, and John's thirst to satisfy a willing vunt has never really been satiated in his life time. And your obedient cunt makes his addiction ten times worse than it was.

You'll be squealing under him, begging, pleading for a break but his hold on you never lets up.

John will simply chuckle, stuff his nose into your sopping, warm pussy, inhaling the scent like it was a god-mandated order only for him to go back to lapping at your cunt like the bastard he is.

He won't let go, not until he's had his fill.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Through the Corn

Scare Actor John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: rough oral sex (male receiving), established relationship, primal kink, mask kink, unprotected piv, creampie

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Requested by @tintamm for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Chased Through a Corn Maze)

You visit the corn maze John is temporarily working at as a scare actor. A bit of silly fun turns into a steamy chase in the dark.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

This is the event you've been waiting for all year. There isn't anything like it for miles. You've mostly come in support of your boyfriend, John Price, and to experience a good scare.

Black Hallow Interactive Corn Maze, the sign reads at the entrance.

By entering into the Black Hallow Interactive Corn Maze you automatically OPT-IN to our interactive experience.

During October, John enjoys earning extra money by working as a scare actor at different attractions. This is his first year working for a local business and not some large amusement park.

You may be touched, carried, restrained, pushed, pulled, separated, fed, played with, and asked to participate in various activities.

This is the adult corn maze. Something special only on certain nights. John wanted you to come specifically to this event, mostly to see all their hard work, but to also have a bit of fun. You already know what he'll be dressed as, but John is the protective type. He doesn't want anyone else touching you.

At any time if you want to OPT-OUT you can say "BOO" and our actors will stop their interactive experience with you.

Welcome to Black Hallow.

"You're John's woman." The security guard at the front entrance gives you a kind smile.

"I am."

"Said you were coming." He waves you in and then gives you a little salute. "Have fun."

The entrance to the corn maze is narrow, allowing for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder but nothing more. As you approach a T-interaction, a scare actor in torn jeans, a plaid button-up, and a stringy blond wig roams the area. Their shoulders and legs jerk about like a roaming zombie, and when you approach, they block the path to the right, forcing you off to the left.

Either John has planned this or you're simply following a direction. He said he would find you. That he'd chase you down.

Out in the country, there isn't any light other than the moon overhead and that which the maze provides. Most of the lights are red and dampened, giving the space a blood-tinged feel. As you walk, the cornstalks sway and move. You hear others in the maze cry out or giggle. A few times, you come across other visitors. One woman is cornered before being lifted up and over a scare actor's shoulder, snatched and separated from her group.

Will John find you like this? Will he corner you? Take you away and do with you what he likes?

As you take a turn, you find a wall of darkness. You cannot see the other end of the corn. No light reaches it. Adrenaline spikes in your gut, creeping up to your chest. For most of the walk, you've been enjoying yourself, but this stirs up a sense of dread.

There is nothing dangerous. Nothing sinister. You are fully aware of this and yet your body's physical response is the exact opposite of what your brain is telling you.

You're swallowed up by the dark. There are no stars, and the moon is currently covered by clouds. Every step forward only increases the creeping anxiety. Your heart thunders in your chest, drowning out all noise.

Something brushes against your right side. You jerk away from the sensation, knocking into corn stalks on your left.

Have you strayed that far over?

You reach out, attempting to find your bearings and a sense of direction. Moving left puts you into the corn. Moving right is open air and—

A large, muscled arm wraps around your waist. A scream claws up your throat, but before it emerges, a hand clamps over your mouth, stifling your cry. Something long and slightly hooked brushes against the side of your face, the tip catching on the front of your jacket. Instinct drives you. Reaching up to touch it, you find no blade or any sharpened weapon.

It's a mask. A plague doctor's mask.

John.

The hand over your mouth slowly descends, resting against the front of your throat. The grip is firm but not painful. It’s a show of dominance and a command for submission. You're drawn against a warm body and hardness.

"That you, John?"

There is a brief stretch of silence before his familiar husky voice answers. "Ready to run, love?"

You nod and John releases you. "Go," he whispers, and you take off.

As you charge forward, you're not sure if John is following. The darkness is almost absolute and you crash headlong into the corn before stumbling backward and righting yourself.

Turning left, you move ahead, only to emerge into a red-lit area with stacked hay. They create natural barriers, and the perfect place for anyone to hide behind. But John is behind you. Your path is clear.

As you navigate around the stacks, a figure steps out from behind the final row. John's silhouette is unmistakable. The plague doctor mask is only confirmation.

You come to halt, nearly slipping as your shoe catches on some flattened corn. Walking backward and away from John's casual stroll, you bump into a stack of hay. It's sturdy, and doesn't topple forward, but it startles you all the same.

You glance away from John for a moment—a single second. When you return your attention to him, you find the space completely empty. Spinning in a circle, you realize you're alone, at least to the naked eye.

John could still be watching somewhere in the dark. Tentatively, you make your way forward and into another stretch of empty corn. This area lacks light, but the clouds move at the perfect moment, revealing a dark figure at the other end before another turn.

John's masked head tilts to the side. There are shrieks and screams from somewhere behind you. Going forward is the only option.

You start slowly, creeping forward. John remains perfectly still until the last possible second. He lunges, and you step to the side, shrieking, running for all your worth. John follows, easily keeping pace. You are no match for his endurance even as you truly attempt to outpace him. The thrill pumping through your blood is thunderous. You're no longer scared, just excited.

You want John to catch you.

A few more turns in the corn and a fist grabs the back of your jacket. You're yanked to a stop, crashing into John as he hauls you against him. The plague mask is pushed up, at least enough for him to bend you backwards a bit and claim your mouth with a possessive kiss. Heat shoots right through you, swirling downwards toward your pussy.

You groan against his mouth, and John answers with one of his own. Your lips part and his tongue slides inside. You suck on it, giving it a light nip. John's grip on you tightens, and then you're being forced to your knees.

With one hand on the back of your head and the other undoing the front of his pants, you watch with eagerness as he reveals his hardness to you. Eagerly, you open your mouth, surrendering to his control, and the way he fucks your throat. Your mouth is full of him, and your eyes water from the intrusion. The two of you might be in the dark but you're out in the open. The thrill of potentially getting caught is its own addiction.

Placing one hand against his thigh, you anchor yourself, even as John controls the movement of your head. The knees of your jeans will surely be stained, but it's worth it. It's worth watching John's head tip back in pleasure as he forces your mouth to take all of him.

Relaxing your throat, you urge him on with soft sighs of pleasure. His fingers tighten, and then he's holding you in place, your lips nearly touching his pelvis as he finishes down your throat.

You swallow every drop, and when he withdraws, you keep your mouth open.

"Tongue out,” he growls.

You do so and John hums with approval. With his hand on the back of your neck, John draws you back to standing. A hint of moonlight illuminates his eyes. They are soft as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

"Run," he murmurs, readjusting the mask.

You languidly back away and John shakes his head as he starts after you.

You don't make it far. A few corners and then John is dragging you into the corn itself. He undoes and shoves your jeans down to your knees before guiding you down on all fours.

Amongst the dirt and corn, John breeds you. Each thrust is rough and intense, skin slapping against skin in the dark. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow, stifling your moans as best you can. People rush by, yelling and screeching as actors chase them through the flattened corn.

None of them notice you.

John's grunts are muted behind the mask, but his hands are harsh, fingers digging into your skin, holding on like you'll disappear. You'll be filthy when he's through with you. Not only messy between your legs but covered dirt-strained and sweaty.

His steady thrusting becomes erratic, a sign of his end. Your pussy flutters and clenches, squeezing around him, pleasure surging upward in a wave of bliss. Your orgasm is intense and you have to bite down on your own arm to stifle the moan.

John holds you tightly against him, his release exploding, flooding your pussy. The two of you linger like this before he slips out. John presses two fingers to your sex. They slide through the mess.

He drags you up, flattening your back against his front. Those two cum-coated fingers drag over your lips, forcing them open. You suck them clean, satiated.

When they pop wetly from your mouth, you twist to look at him, and you're greeted with his lips on yours. These kisses are languid. Sweet.

"Up for one more chase?"

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @glitterypirateduck

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@marispunk @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[elysianightsss]

No because girl you NEEDDDDDD to elaborate on this -> Soulmate AU. Poly!141 x neurodivergent!reader <- I will die happily

Elaboratingggggggg🤭🫠

-

You didn’t think that you’d get this far in life, many reasons spring to mind but the main one is you’re a little different than most people. You can’t cope with certain things and struggle with change. You remember growing up your family would brush off your ‘issues’ and say to just deal with it. How little they understood you.

Moving out was the best decision you ever made, the only change you have ever been happy about. It was necessary and would make your life so much easier on a level only you could understand. You could set up your space the way you like it, the way you need it. And with just you, no one would mess with your stuff just to see you loose it as it was ‘funny’ or move things to suit them better.

This way, you could live in peace.

Task force 141 had just finished a successful mission, camping out in one of the many secret safe houses as they waited for further instructions when they had sent Johnny to the shop for supplies. That’s where he saw you, in a Sainsbury’s supermarket of all places, headphones tight over your ears to block out the world while you tried to decide if the extra two, ninety-nine was worth it or not for the soothing lavender face mask you wanted.

Johnny was quick to subtly snap a picture of you and even go as far as to follow you home before bolting it back to the guys to tell them he’d finally found you. Their last soulmate.

As soon as Johnny showed them the image of you, that was it for them. They had to have you. A burning need coursing through their veins, pumping around their bodies. Nothing would ever be enough until they had you in their arms.

But as said and as they observed themselves, you don’t cope with change.

So they had to situate themselves into your life slowly, one by one.

Johnny and Simon moved in next door to you, and lived there for seven months slowly getting to know you and obviously spying on you. They gradually began to understand you and your cute quirks. They know that you eat the same thing for dinner every night, you use the same plate or bowl and wash it straight after use to make sure it is ready for next time.

You have one set of cutlery, one glass and one mug. Two pillows though you only sleep on one and use the other to hug to sleep. And to top it all off you have one recliner chair and one massive beanbag chair that makes you feel like you’re being hugged tight each time you sit on it. It gives you the deep pressure therapy you desperately need at times.

The guys found your habits strange at first but the more time they spent with you, the more they began to understand you. Understand your need for order, for repetition. And they had experienced first hand what happens when change was forced into your safe space.

Johnny had the bright idea to gift you a set of cutlery a few weeks ago so when he and Simon came round for dinner as they did every Thursday for the past four months, they didn’t have to bring cutlery and plates from their own place, it would already be there.

Simon said it was a bad idea but he couldn’t say no to Johnny, not with how happy he looked while he picked out some pretty baby blue plates and silver cutlery with little mushrooms painted at the end. He boasted to Simon about how much you’d love them while they stood in the queue to pay.

He was wrong.

After dinner was cooked you plated up the food no problem thinking the pretty plates were from their house. Then you opened the kitchen drawer only to hear the clutter and smash of cutlery rubbing together. The sound made a ringing pierce your ears, your hands reaching up to cover them. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you. The sound you heard making you panic beyond measure, your breathing out of control as you slid to your knees.

Johnny’s smile dropped and he sprung into action using the deep pressure therapy you had told him about with your beanbag chair. Simon was quick to removed the extra plates and cutlery from where Johnny had put them and take them back to their place before returning ready to help. He knew he’d need to call John and let him know you had had an episode, but helping you came first.

So you liked constant repetition. If it made you happy, that was absolutely fine with them.

Kyle got himself hired as a barista at your favourite cafe, he learned your usual and practiced at home to make sure every morning when you stopped by on the way to work to drink your coffee and sit with your laptop for twenty minutes, you’d have the perfect drink. He made absolutely sure that it tasted the same every single time. No change.

After a couple of months of smiles and waves here and there he finally got you to open up. Baby steps. A little at a time and now Kyle was taking his twenty minute break at your table while you typed up something for work. You always worked so hard. But he managed to get a few sentences out of you each time and it made his heart sing.

And last but not least, John became your new boss after your last one mysteriously got caught for money laundering. Mr Price was an amazing boss, he didn’t ask for much and was always giving you big opportunities that you’d only ever dreamed of. You had been promoted twice since he became the CEO.

You were now executive editor under him as the chief editor at one of the best publishers in the country. Pirons Classics, number two in the UK and number four in the World. To say the guys were proud that you worked there in the first place was an understatement. Their smart girl.

He called you sweet nicknames and brought you lunch everyday. The same thing, a pesto and cheese sandwich and a snack of your choosing from the vending machines. You don’t remember when it started but you were always too shy to say anything so it became a regular thing.

If you were to sit and think real hard about the situation you would realise how changes had been introduced into your life ever since the four of them appeared. But they were subtle changes and you genuinely couldn’t remember a time when these changes weren’t normal. On top of that, these four men were the only people besides yourself, that you felt comfortable, relaxed and content around.

So for the first time you don’t sit and think, for the first time you just let it happen and you don’t notice the difference.

Johnny and Simon were more involved with you than the other two. They were the closest to you currently with the status of your best friends which Johnny most certainly bragged to the other two about. You had known them for almost a year now and they didn’t exactly hide their romantic relationship but didn’t exactly flaunt it either.

You had found it kinda hot when you saw them kiss and even though it was unusual for you, you luckily managed to keep your mouth shut about it.

You had no idea they had noticed.

[bunny-jpeg]

"beautiful." price's words were like a siren's call as you looked to him. in his hands was his lunch that you picked up for him. in a pressed, expensive suit, leaned back in his office chair. he looked at you with a certain look in his eye as he said, "roast beef and swiss? the order is roast beef and gouda." he put the paper back around the food and said. he crossed his arms and huffed, "you're supposed to be my assistant. are you not taking this job seriously?"

you stood there, shivering like a leaf at your boss' heavy gaze. there was some dark behind those blue eyes. but he covered it up with one of his charming smiles. you didn't want to disappoint, but you swore that he said he liked roast beef and swiss earlier in the week...

it was almost too easy to trick you, price almost felt bad about it. you were so eager to please, those pleading eyes, the tremble in your soft bottom lip. didn't help that those pencil skirts you wore showed off all of those curves of yours. this was your first job post graduation and you didn't want to mess it up!

"c'mere, you know the rules." just as you were eager to please in your job. you also aimed to please price on every level. you got his coffee, photocopied his paperwork, sucked his cock and let him finish inside of you. you were the perfect employee.

you approached him and he reached for you and placed a hand on your behind as you stood next to him. he got his legs off the desk and pulled your soft middle up against his bearded cheek.

he gripped your ass tightly and you let out a sharp noise, which he shushed you for, "quiet there, little bird. don't want everyone to know that you're gettin' fucked by the boss. they might get jealous." or think you're a total whore. he gave your ass a firm pat before he said, "over the desk, love."

you were perfect as you bent over the desk and let price pull down the zipper and let it fall to your ankles. your panties ended up halfway down your thighs. then price got his cock out of his dress pants and rubbed the leaky tip against your slick entrance.

"i expect the best from you. i know it's a hard concept for you, doll. but i believe you can be the best you can be. you just need to work harder and do better. right? can you do that for me?" he asked with a heat in his tone before he pushed his cock into you.

he rested his chest up against your back and placed a hand over your mouth as he started to move against you. his thrusts like ruts of a dog in heat, needy for your pretty pussy. hard not to become obsessed, you were a virgin when price for met you. you've come a long way and while you were doing excellent at your job. price believed that there was still some more training to do. so that meant price having to be a good boss and teach you everything you need to know.

except it was hard to keep the lessons in your head when your brain was near mush from the intensity of climax. price's weight felt good against your back, he squished you under he sturdy form. you knew under that crisp button up, he was hairy like a shag carpet.

his cock hit against your sweet spot and your noises got a little higher in pitch, but price clamped his hand tighter around your mouth, his hand almost big enough to cover your nose too. he said lowly, "shh, shh, shh doll. relax. relax. that's a good girl." he said with a low tone, "no need to cause a scene, i know it's good for you."

he moved against you, his cock was hefty. it stretched you, but didn't tear. sometimes he fucked you and it was like he was re-shaping your poor pussy to fit him. and only him. you gasped a little louder, it was hard to compose yourself when the pleasure raced through your body.

something about price that pulled you in. he was a domineering presence in your life. he made you squirm and ache for him. you wanted to do well for him, make him praise you. even if that meant letting him take you raw over his solid desk. he kept you quiet while he fucked you, his heavy breathing in your ear as every thrust of his hips aroused you more.

you felt so good under him, right where you belonged. pretty little thing spread out like paperwork across his desk. your red cotton panties around your thighs and that skirt at your ankles. if price had his way you'd be in a lot less clothes at the office, and maybe a collar too. little tag that said "property of jonathan price". but he'd just have to settle with fucking the daylights out of you over his desk. until your little body bruised from how hard the surface was.

he liked a girl he could own, keep wrapped around his thick fingers like the ones he was keeping in your mouth as he fucked you. didn't hurt that you did your job well and you kept his cock nice and warm. you were the full package. and price loved it.

he thrusts left your head in a tailspin as he continued to pleasure the both of you. your heart hammered in your chest as you felt his cock spear you open, make himself fit inside your cunt. he was the only one who ever used it, and he was the only one who would ever use it. he continued his movements, his long thrusts that left you feeling on a different planet. his heavy movements that had you gasping around his fingers in your throat.

"good girl. good girl." he cooed as he fucked you heavily. he felt your cunt tighten around his heavy cock. he knew it was a lot to take for you, but he knew you'd persevere and take him each time.

you tried to speak but his hand muffled any noises. you arched your back a little to give him further access to your weepy cunt. you felt trapped by his aggressive movements and it shook you down to your core. your head throbbed, your body trembled. you couldn't help yourself. it was all so much, you kept your hands flat on the desk as you were pushed further up against it.

you saw stars when you closed your eyes, each thrust hit in a way that it made your toes curl in your heels. you were price's little assistant, your job was to make sure he was taken care of. he was a busy man who worked long hours. you whimpered as you kept his fingers in your mouth as his cock dragged up inside of you.

he had fully marked you inside and out. his thrusts continued but he knew you were getting close by how wet you were, how your hole was fluttering around his cock and how he had to try harder to keep you quiet. his pace quickened and he watched you tremble. shivering like a leaf as the feeling of absolute pleasure started to take over.

it was a sight to behold. a proper working girl reduced to a whimpering slut. good girl.

"my petal. my doll. i want you to cum for me. i want you to make a mess of my cock. i want them all to smell your pussy on me when i got to my next meeting." he said with heat in his tone as his thrusts were brutal and his weight left you stuck under him. he made you take all of him as you clenched around him. your cunt tight that it was near impossible for him to pull out. a tight fit made tighter.

you whined and soon came around his cock. he continued his movements against you, fucking you right through not one, but two back to back orgasms. they felt almost on top of each other as they near fried your brain from the intense pleasurable feeling. your eyes closed once more as you let yourself be consumed by the heated feeling.

price continued to fuck you, his thrusts heavy as he neared his own climax as well. he fucked you as deep as it would go and eventually spilled himself inside of you. he cooed in your ear, "that's it, baby, that's it. you feel so good. pretty little thing for me." he rocked into you to get that over stimulated feeling through him as he felt you quiver under him.

he left you a mess on his desk, his cum stuck to your pussy lips and his wetness stained the front of his dress pants. the office smelt like hot sex and he watched you quiver against the desk. he gave your ass a firm squeeze before he tucked himself back into his pants, not minding the stain.

"p..price." you said in a shaky tone.

he replied, "up and at 'em, petal. you gotta get me a new sandwich before lunch is over. this was a nice appitizer, but i need some real food in my stomach. so hurry up." he got back into his seat and watched, "and get it right this time, or we'll have to do this lesson all over again." <3

[yawnderu]

Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.