#familial duty

[wombywoo]

retired 🩶

[urluv69]

It was just a small gathering with Price and a few of the men he had worked with throughout the years. The host being a general whose wife had recently had a baby. Of course this meant the wifes were all over the cute little thing.

Especially you

Price had never really seen you around children let alone babies before. But the smile on your lips any time one of the toddlers waddling around brought you their toy and the laugh you would let out when they ran back to their mamas. The little coos you would let out when the little new born baby girl started crying.

It took ages with all the mothers doting over the little baby before you finally got your chance to hold her.

Price sat, beer clutched in one hand and a cigar between two fingers in the other. He was chatting away with his mates when you came over with the brightest smile he had ever seen grace your beautiful face.

You sat down on his lap with your shoulder to his chest as you cradled the baby. You didn’t even spare a glance at anyone. You cooed and smiled sweetly at the adorable giggling baby in your arms.

Price though-

His eyes were on you

Right then, in that very moment, he could see you holding your little baby girl. She would have your vibrant eyes and his curly brown hair. Her smile would curve just the same as yours when Price would tell you a joke no one else laughed at. She would be strong willed and a natural leader born and raised to be an independent and intelligent woman.

Your son would be making a mess in the playroom with his legos and toy military cars that Price had bought. He would be a fighter but kind at heart just like you are when you think no one is watching. A softy really. But it only made him stronger. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind but cared more about how his words affected those around him.

And then

Just as he could see the White House and picket fence

You looked up at him. Your gaze meeting his with a smile brighter than the sun. No words needed to be said. In just that second he knew you were thinking the same thing.

That diamond ring on your finger wasn’t there for the looks.

You were his. His to have a family with. His to love and cherish and treat like a princess. And he was just as much yours. His knees would hit the floor even if the ache in his back would hate him for it in the morning.

All it took was for you to say the words.

-not proof read

-should I do a pt2?

[soundtracksforthebrian]

[chthonic-kids]

i will shove that crusty old titan back into tartarus myself to keep her happy

[the-raindeer-king]

Boyfriend Johnny MacTavish, who doesn't mind that you're a single parent. He's always wanted kids, so he just sees this as a potential head start to having a family.

Boyfriend Johnny MacTavish, who doesn't mind changing plans at the last minute because the babysitter canceled. He'll show up with tickets to the zoo, and be willing to carry your toddler around on his shoulders all day.

Boyfriend Johnny MacTavish, who's stuck around longer than any other man has. Who loves your kid so much, and is always willing to spend time with them.

Boyfriend Johnny MacTavish, who openly cries when you and your toddler ask if he wants to adopt them. To legally be their father.

Step-dad Johnny MacTavish, who loves your kid as if they're his own. Who never lets your kid feel left out or unloved. Who'd willingly helps with play time and bath time. Who's honestly just the best dad you and your child could've asked for.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Riley Family c.2040

Col. Simon Riley, Charlotte Riley, Andrew Thomas Riley, Grace Jael RIley, Orion Elijah Riley

---

A glimpse of the future. 'Ghost' is no more, 'Jade' is just a deary nickname, two little lives born out of love, and one stumbled upon them and lifted up along the way.

All because they shot at each other 💖👌

Hope you love it!

[digital-slvt]

LMAOOOO IM DEAD

[moongreenlight]

Have you ever seen that corny ass skit where it’s the girl talking to her husband asking him to fix things and he says “I’m not a plumber” “I’m not a carpenter” bla bla bla and then one day he comes home and the girl’s like “oh yeah I had the neighbor come over to fix the things you wouldn’t” and the neighbor says she can either bake him a cake or sleep with him as payment so the husband asks “so what kind of cake did you bake him?” And the girl says “I’m not a baker?”

Very much Neighbor!Price x stay-at-home-mom!reader coded :)

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Neighbor!Price who’s found a quiet little cul-de-sac to settle in when he’s got some time off. It’s a little neighborhood, mostly older people who’re thrilled to have a man like him around to help bring out bins and offer to mow their lawns or rake their leaves or shovel their drives when he’s around.

But somehow he’s found the only other younger family in the area living directly next to him. Parents are a few years his junior, and they’ve got two young kids. He assumes the boy, the older one, is early elementary age- sees you herding him into the car in the morning with a pack lunch and a backpack that’s nearly the same size as he is to and from the house in the morning and afternoon. And the girl, the younger, must be in pre-k, because she’s only out for half the day and doesn’t get the same pack lunch her brother gets.

He’s gotten to know you pretty well. When he’s around, the two of you will chat while you’re tending your garden and he’s working in his garage carrying out some odd project or another. He thinks you’re sweet. Likes the way you wear overalls with a little top when you’re planting flowers in the beds out front. How when you bend over or stand at the right angle he can imagine you’re not wearing a top at all.

He hates your husband. He’s crass and rude and never waves hello to any of the neighbors- odd for such a friendly little community. Leaves for work early and comes home late and leaves you to fend for yourself all day. Doesn’t know how to interact with you or your kids. And Price is almost certain he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked because his bedroom window looks over your living room and he’s caught you on the couch with your hand down your pants more times than could have been coincidence.

He’s known to be the neighborhood handyman. Got a little workshop set up in his garage and a general knowledge about nearly everything, so it’s not uncommon that he gets a knock on the door a few times a week. Usually it’s some of the older neighbors popping over to see if he can fix their TVs or help their grandkids connect to the Wi-Fi, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you turn up on his porch mid-morning.

You’re scrunching the ends of your soaking wet hair in a towel. Apologizing as soon as you hear him turn the deadbolt. Feverishly going on about how you must have blown a circuit in the bathroom trying to dry your hair and you’d usually be able to manage but your husband shoved a bookshelf in front of the breaker and you can’t get through to it.

He’s sweet about it. Always is, but especially for you. Follows you over to your place and promises you no less than ten times that it’s really no trouble. He’s happy to help. It’s a quick fix, but he drags it out as long as he can. Insists on following you up and down the stairs from the basement to the top floor twice to make sure everything’s working properly.

He notices that the bathroom door sticks and that the fire alarm in the hallway is chirping from a low battery. You apologize for the toys in the living room and the clean laundry pile on the couch and the state of your house. Say that your husband is racking up a hefty to-do list with a small laugh that’s just a bit too forced.

He’s thrilled to tell you that he’s got some free time later in the week and says he’ll come over if only to help out your husband. Makes some backhanded remark about how your husband is clearly a busy lad. You refuse- of course- sweet thing that you are, but he turns up the next day after you’ve taken your kids to school anyway.

He tails you up the drive so there’s no way you can shut him out. Shushes you when you try to apologize for one reason or another and takes off to fix not only the sticky bathroom door and the fire alarm batteries, but also the dripping kitchen faucet and the garbage disposal that’s been broken for months.

You try to stay clear of whatever room he’s working in, chirping short responses to whatever nonsense question he asked in an attempt to lure you over. It was only when he was about to head out and he saw you leaning on the dryer to keep it shut that he saw his golden opportunity.

You were clearly trying to hide it, but even with a small load of clothes in, it sounded like you’d thrown a pair of boots into a tin garbage pail and shook it hard as you could. You tried to shoo him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There’s enough skirting around the subject to give you chance to turn down his advances, but when he realizes you’re not outright telling him to go fuck himself, he’s essentially taking it as a challenge to see if he can’t push you to that point.

Hoists you up on the still clanging machine and pushes between your legs on the weak pretense of needing you there to keep the door shut while he works. The machine shook the straps of your top down off your shoulders and made him acutely aware of the fact that you hadn’t had the time to put on a bra yet. It made his pants near painfully tight on the crotch.

He’d try and make idle chat. Your kids and plans for the day, but it’s entirely too hard for him to focus on anything other than the way your thighs are pressing together as the dry cycle started to bang the machine around more. He makes a light comment about how he’s not sure how you get anything done around the house with the dryer in this state. Your laugh is breathy.

And when he leans over you to reach to the back of the machine, he can feel the way your soft panting breaths fan his neck. Confirms his suspicions.

“Alright?”

You’re chewing the inside of your lip while you nod. Clearly starved for stimulation if all it takes is a dry cycle to get you off. Poor thing.

It’s stuffy in the laundry room. Adds to the appeal. Makes your shorts ride up and stick to your legs. Your thighs are dewy and glide together when you shift under his gaze.

“You sure, doll?”

The two of you are almost nose-to-nose. You’re leaned back, caged in by his big arms that look even bigger in his almost obscenely tight shirt. He’s smiling. Letting his eyes wander to your collarbones. The way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

Before you could choke out your answer, the dryer stopped. Chimed the alert and slowly stilled. You took a shaky breath and nodded once more, looking like you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. He backed off, stretched out his hand to help you down.

You lead him to the kitchen. Ask if you can get him anything. Tea or food. He declines. You say something about stopping to get cash when you’re out picking up your daughter in a couple hours. He declines again.

“John, really, I appreciate your help. You have to let me get you back.”

You’re filling the kettle with water anyway, leaned just slightly over the sink. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he’s never had very good manners when it came to things like that.

“Bake me a cake or somethin’, then. Sleep with me. Won’t take your money, though.”

You whirl around and end up sloshing some water down your front. Doesn’t seem to phase you. Your eyebrows are damn near at your hairline.

“I don’t know if that’s appropriate, considering…”

He snorts a soft laugh. It’s kind- not at all suggestive. Like he’s playing off a clever joke.

“What? Baking me a cake?”

You purse your lips and set the kettle on the stove.

“Never been a very good baker.”

He about hurdles the kitchen island like he’s running track.

“That right?”

You make a thoughtful sound before clicking on the burner. He can see you biting back a smile. You finally turn to face him. Leaned back on your hands with your head cocked slightly to the side.

“I just don’t know that it would be appropriate given our- my- situation.”

It’s his turn to hum and nod. Take a few steps forward, slow and slinky like a predator stalking toward its prey.

“Sure.”

You chew your bottom lip. Try to find some resolve in fussing with your wedding ring. It’s horrible. Small. He can’t help but think about how he’d be able to get you a much better one. He takes a few more steps forward.

“It’s complicated, John.”

Your voice is mousy now.

“I know.”

A few more steps forward and he’s back nose-to-nose with you. Pinning you against the counter.

“I just-“

“Then tell me to go home.”

The button of his jeans grazes your groin and sends sparks up your spine. You recoil slightly, but he’s got his massive hands on your wrists to keep you in place.

“My husb-“

“Don’t. S’not what I said. Tell me to go home. Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave. S’easy as that.”

The coarse hair of his beard brushes along your jaw. Visible goosebumps rise all the way up your neck and down your arms.

“John, he-“

A throaty growl from him.

“He’s not getting a lick of you.”

And then somehow he’s got you on your back on the couch. Shoved off the pile of laundry and pushed you down. His eyes are near pitch black and hungry. Ravenous. He tears off your shorts. Doesn’t wait for you to hoist your hips, just yanks so hard that you’re a little worried you’ll get thrown off the couch with them.

He is wretched. Planting wet kisses from the inside of your knee all the way up to your sex frustratingly slow. Big hands splayed over your hips to keep you from bucking up into his mouth. He’s got this maddeningly smug smile on his face like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say I told you so. Like he knew this was going to happen from the start, you were just too stupid to see.

Your underwear is embarrassingly wet from your little go on the dryer. Your pussy puffy and sensitive underneath. You whine when he kisses over the damp spot. Laves his tongue over your folds without pulling them to the side. He makes some comment about the state of you that borders on snarky, but you choose to ignore it.

When he finally does rid you of your panties, there’s a moment of clarity where you realize what you’re doing. You push up on your elbows and try to roll out from under him, but he gives your clit a mean slap that forces you back onto the couch and ends your protest. Sends you to that liminal, clouded headspace where all you can focus on is how desperately you need to come.

It’s clear he’s savoring the moment. Running the point of his tongue through your folds. Teasing at your hole. Artfully swirling around your clit, but never close enough to give you the friction you’re so desperately craving. Planting hot, wet kisses on your inner thighs. Leaves a few love bites in his wake like he’s boasting; so certain your husband wouldn’t get close enough to notice that he had no problem decorating you as he pleased.

You’re a mess. Being taken apart stitch by stitch. Panting and whining and begging for more. Your orgasm is coiling tight under your belly without him having to do much. Any other time you’d have felt a little pathetic, but you were too preoccupied to care now.

He finally brings his hands up and you think he’s about to stuff you full, but he only lets his fingers drag slowly along your sensitive sex. Collects some of your arousal and pulls it up toward your naval. Watches the goosebumps form under his touch.

He rucks your shirt up with his free hand and immediately wraps his lips around your pebbled nipples. Tongues at them. Lets his teeth graze teasingly over them. And whatever one he’s not got currently in his mouth, he’s working his fingers over. Pinching and flicking until you’re teary eyed and squirming under him.

And then finally, fucking finally, he ducks back down and fixes his mouth on your clit. Sucks gently on the swollen bud for just a moment and then companies his mouth with two fingers bullying their way inside you.

The stretch is almost uncomfortable in its suddenness, but you quickly get used to it. The pleasure is blinding. Forces you to throw your head back against the cushion and screw your eyes tightly shut. A string of high, needy moans float through your gaped lips.

He’s sweet, Jesus, is he. Hums and groans with his mouth still on your bundle of nerves. Pulls away just enough to tell you how pretty your pussy is taking him before going back to work on your sensitive clit. You want to scream. You think you may actually come entirely undone on this couch if he doesn’t stop.

And then your orgasm coils so tightly within you that it explodes outward. Tears through you and leaves every square inch of your skin sizzling. He doesn’t let up. Pins you down by the stomach with his forearm and continues down his warpath. The sounds his fingers make when they sink into you are so pornographic that it makes your face hot.

You eventually find it in you to warble out something that sounded like please, too much. And he pulled off, still with that smug grin pulling his lips now surrounded by glistening slick caught in the hair of his beard.

He gives you one last kiss. Lewd and wet and so searing hot you’re worried it will actually blister the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He’ll sit back on his haunches and fuss with the button and zipper of his jeans before saying something horrible and cheeky like

“C’mon, doll. Thought you were set on payin’ me back.”

[marciaillust]

I added some colours to her :)

[giotanner]

If Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish has a dirty job to handle, he already knows his Captain John Price, will be there to clean it up with him, no questions asked. One thing I appreciate about MWII (and the thing with Shepherd in MWIII) and the og Call of Duty games is how we see Price as a morally gray character—someone whose loyalty isn’t aligned strictly with duty, but first and foremost with his men. His loyalty lies there above all. The Task Force is called 141 (one for one), but he’s always got their six.

(If you like it support me with REBLOGS- it helps always a lot to stay in CoD circle!)

tiktok | buy my CoD prints and stickers!

[wombywoo]

ghosts 💀

[baohanhanesel]

Not in front of the boys, damnit!

[tidetower]

The Prince of the Hightower and the Heir to High Tide

Artist: erchitos

[bietrofastimoff23]

i know these two cripples were fighting outside the door who would visit the cripple king first. “your feet look so much like your mother's in certain lights”. “our sister's dream. she called it "the song of maelor the missed”. aegon just wants those freaks to leave him ALONE.

[shadow0-1]

Retired

[hatsbuckets]

"divorced!Price this divorced!Price that." I love him I do but,,, (my widower!price hc ig I'm a sucker for found family)

Widower!Price

who lost his light, love of his life, a feisty dove who never let him leave without a kiss nor enter her bed (yes hers) without a shower first. She was kind, sweet as hell, but met his young fire with her own.

A woman who saw Price's world-bearing shoulders and gave him a place to let it rest.

Who let him rant, let him bitch and moan, but always voiced her own opinion, gave him perspective.

Who held the torch in his darkness, and held his hand through the night.

Met his banter with her own. Added to the cynical gallows humor with clever quips.

Like bourbon down his throat and velvet on his skin.

A woman going places on her own of course, wildly independent, and he let her. Still made her let him pay for everything though.

Loved her wholly.

And she passed.

And Price moved on, buried himself in work, became the more rigid captain we know and love. Didn't let himself get close again, doesn't need to. His heart broke, shattered, he filled it with duty, his soldiers, his mission.

Nik and Laswell are there. (If it's timed appropriately.) They pick him up when he falls, but he keeps moving. Keeps fighting. Filling the cracks in his heart with the sand of duty.

But then this man, a huge ass, blue eyed blonde, who followed his orders without question. And he came back broken, hollowed, and Price had to wrap him up- gave him a mask, a purpose. Directed that fuel into something more.

And then that young Scot, youngest kid kicking ass for SAS selection. Price pushed him, kept tabs. He was an easy pick for the task force. And this kid is a light, warmth. A feisty jab, a jolting reminder of that dove he knew, that dove he loved.

And then the sergeant, lovely and so smart. Challenged him. Didn't let Price's humor go without challenge, without additions. This man who showed Price, reminded Price that the fight wasn't just something to fill cracks in his heart, but to protect, to fight.

And now, this team he's formed, it hits him harder than he cares to admit, they're filling the cracks with something more than the sand of duty. Repairing, fusing pieces like a soldering iron, heat, light, reactionary, and a bit of trauma, but there.