#john price x you

[beloveds-embrace]

Human!Reader being traded to Fae!Price to keep the peace. Like I heard once in ancient China, actual royal daughters wouldn't be married off, other girls would be married in their place, so maybe reader's parents volunteered her to be married instead of the king's beloved daughter?

see you perfectly get me 😩😩 i hope you don’t mind me using this as a chance to yap <3

The fae had no love for you.

You had known this from the moment you stepped into the obsidian palace, its towering spires slicing through the mist-laden sky like blades. You had been dressed in human silks then- pale, delicate, and utterly wrong in a court where darkness was beauty, where even the air shimmered with otherworldly grace. The moment you crossed the threshold, every gaze in the room had cut into you, assessing and dismissing in the same breath because not a single one of them wanted a human amongst them- least of all as their queen.

The words had not been spoken aloud, but you had felt them all the same, woven into the murmurs that rippled through the court. They had expected the human king’s beloved daughter (even if they would have hated her all the same), a princess groomed for diplomacy, raised in luxury. Instead, they had been given you- the daughter of an unimportant noble, a substitute barely trained in courtly graces but more than capable with ink and parchment, a woman who had spent years buried under the work the princess refused to do.

They had not wanted you.

And neither, it seemed, had your husbands.

King John Price, your husband, had barely acknowledged you beyond what duty required. He had spoken the vows in the old tongue, words and sounds you could never hope to replicate with a human tongue, and sealed the marriage with a kiss so fleeting it barely brushed your lips, then turned away to his own husbands- also yours, but they weren’t kings, so no kiss was required between you and them.

(The concept was still so strange to you. Humans practiced monogamy at the very least, in public- yet you had learned fae cared very little for such things.)

They were his advisors; Johnny, Simon, Kyle, and they were no different. They were powerful men, sharp as the wind over the mountains, and just as untouchable.

You were an outsider, a human intruder in a world where every glance from you was considered an insult, every word a nuisance.

They did not mistreat you, no. They simply ignored you, and you told yourself that it was worlds better than being hurt anyways… even if the loneliness hurt.

And so you threw yourself into the work. The human princess had forced all her duties on you for years, and it was no different here- except now it was fae treaties, fae disputes, fae taxes, all of which they happily let you drown in. You handled it all without complaint. The paperwork was easier to deal with than the loneliness. And if they noticed the way you handled the endless the endless paperwork that the court so conveniently let pile up on your desk, they gave no indication.

You were a human among fae. And in their eyes, that made you insignificant.

Your days blurred together in a haze of ink-stained fingers and stiff-backed chairs, the weight of the crown heavier than you had ever imagined. It might have continued that way- silent, distant, suffocating- if not for the day the Queen Mother descended upon you.

She despised humans. You could see it in the way she sneered at you, the way she spoke as if addressing something beneath her. But she was old, cunning, and- unlike her son- unwilling to let a political marriage go to waste. She had entered your chambers one evening without announcement, her presence crackling in the air like a brewing storm.

For a long moment, she had said nothing. And then:

"You look human."

You had stiffened at her tone. It was not a compliment.

"That is your first mistake."

She had circled you then, her gaze stripping you bare. "The court despises you. My son ignores you, as do his husbands- they do not even see you. Why?"

You had swallowed, resisting the urge to drop your gaze. "… Because I am human."

A flicker of a smile, cold and knowing. "No, child. Because you make no effort to be anything else. You are no longer within humans.”

That night, your wardrobe was stripped away- every pale gown, every soft fabric, every piece of jewelry that marked you as human. In their place, the Queen Mother had garments brought in that dripped with fae elegance.

Your dresses were no longer delicate, but sharp—cut to flatter the lines of your body, corseted to perfection, woven with fabrics darker than midnight and embroidered with silver-threaded fae flowers that shimmered when they caught the light. Your silks no longer billowed, but clung, whispering around you like shadows given form.

Your jewelry transformed you further. Earrings that mimicked the elongated points of fae ears, tapering into elegant curves. Rings shaped into sharp, clawed talons that gleamed when your fingers moved. Tiaras twisted into the illusion of horns, their dark metal twining like the antlers of the fae lords. Even your hair was adorned with woven fae flora, petals shifting as though alive.

When you stepped before the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.

You were still human. But you no longer looked like prey.

The court noticed first. The whispered mockery did not cease, but it changed- less scornful, more wary. Some sneered that you were playing dress-up, but others looked twice, their gazes lingering in ways they never had before.

Your husbands were slower to react, but when they did, it was irreversible. It was the point of no return- even if you did not know it at the time. Did not once suspect this had been the Queen Mother’s plan from the start.

Johnny cracked first.

One evening during another dinner where you were supposed to be ignored once more, as you reached for a goblet, he caught your hand- his calloused fingers brushing the rings now shaped like talons. His thumb grazed over the curved metal, blue eyes flicking up to yours with something thoughtful, something curious.

“…This suits you, lass."

A simple statement. But his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary. You did not allow yourself to think more of it, as he eventually turned away from you and returned to ignoring you.

Kyle was next. It was not the rings he noticed, but the way the darker fabrics shaped you, the way the fae silks whispered around your form when you moved. His sharp gaze assessed you, and when you met his eyes, he hummed- low and appreciative.

"Fascinating."

Simon was the hardest to read, but you caught the way his head tilted slightly when you walked past him, the way his gaze lingered on the flowers adorning you, unreadable but lingering. He did not speak on it. He never did speak to you, not eveb now. But he watched.

And for the first time since your marriage to John, he truly looked at you; not past you. Not through you. But at you.

The next time you stood before him, spine straight, chin lifted, cloaked in the elegance of the fae, John leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. His eyes raked over you in quiet thoughts, but there was something different this time- something sharper, darker.

You had changed.

And the court had noticed.

He had seen the way the nobles looked at you now- the way their gazes lingered too long on the curve of your throat, the bare skin exposed by the daring cut of your gown. The way their admiration had shifted, no longer dismissive but hungry. Once, they had sneered at your presence, insulted by the mere thought of a human in their midst. Now, they sought your attention, vying for your favor with soft smiles and murmured compliments.

It soured something in him.

His fingers curled against the armrest of his throne, a slow, thoughtful movement. He knew he had no right to feel this way. He had ignored you first. Had dismissed you, had treated you as a necessity rather than a wife. And yet-

He did not like the way they looked at you.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the way the others reacted as well. Kyle’s jaw was tight, his gaze sharp whenever a noble leaned too close. Johnny had grown restless, the usual brightness in his eyes dimming whenever he caught another fae whispering to you, their voices dipped too low. And Simon was a shadow at the edge of the room, silent, unmoving, but his cold stare was a warning, his claws tapping idly against the hilt of the dagger at his belt.

They saw it, too.

You were theirs.

And now, far too many in this court seemed to be forgetting that.

John’s grip on the chair tightened before he forced himself to relax, schooling his expression back into something unreadable.

Well, he may have been a neglectful husband to you in the beginning… but no time better than the present to fix his mistake.

[lxvvie]

in the dark recesses of your phone, there's a photograph of Price wearing his hat, drunk in love, glass in one hand, naked as the day he was born, and he's sitting on the couch, smiling at the camera, chonky cheeks out and proud and red as they can be.

it was your wedding night, and while everything else was a blur, you vividly remembered Price's smile and how wide it got the moment you said, "I do."

and your Cap'n hasn't stopped smiling since.

[spurbleu]

141 x reader. cw. dubcon very much on the verge of noncon, implied drugging

price and kyle who, under the maple light of the underground pub scene, sniff you out. sweating over the jostled, unkempt desire to be seen. hands flirting between your drink and your hair.

it’s like you’re asking for it.

kyle, the more outrageous of the two, places a hand on your lower back. you jolt, but his eyes are the stove to your butter. orders you a drink. slides it in place of your empty glass.

“my husband and I thought you were gorgeous, darlin.”

you stare. glance past him to find a new pair of brick shoulders. a harsh, formidable jaw. blue eyes that you cannot read.

you down the drink. it tastes like brown sugar and leaving with the two men who gave you an out.

syrupy blinks. weak knees. cotton mouth that drools when you watch the brick man drive. lucid body that melts further into the stove man and his wandering hands. you cannot bring yourself to care about their real names.

you really should have.

as you’re about to find out, they’re not married. the strange, two men at the gate call them Price and Gaz. The larger of the two carries you into the house that looks a lot different than yours.

vicid, tired muscles. they lie you down. panic is a small, quiet bird in your chest. there, but not loud. it’s long until the morning, so she doesn’t sing. not yet.

she flutters when you watch stove…Gaz and a man with a mohawk play a hand game to decide who “works you open”.

Price and the one with the skull mask fiddle with their belts.

the liquor solidifies over your vocal cords, and your left dumb and mute. when you open your mouth, a pathetic croak grabs their attentions.

their eyes eat you before their teeth do.

[oceantornadoo]

the ex-wife chronicles pt.5 (ex husband!john price x f!reader)

masterlist | next

follow and turn on notifications: @tornadoowarning

tw: gruff john who is a lil dub con, unedited

When John wakes up, there’s no hat on his desk. Nor on his bed table or his actual head, which has happened once or twice. Whiskey swirls in his stomach, the feeling that something is missing.

His clock blinks red, 0800 staring back at him. The latest he’s slept in in a while, the years too long to keep track of. There’s a check in with Laswell later, some necessary stretching after last night, but there’s no therapy plans for Saturday. You gave them the weekend of.

And of course, all thoughts lead to you.

The scent of your conditioner in his nose, a new scent he’s never smelled. The weight of your body in his laps, different from years past but comforting all the same. What hasn’t changed, though, are the whines you make when you come. The desperate fucked out look of your blown pupils, brought to the edge by just his thigh, clothes still on. Soft lips and softer whimpers, putty in his hands. He wonders if you’ve found anyone else in these ten years that feels like him (he certainly hasn’t). His last hookup, ages ago, and all the ones before it were plagued with memories of you. He thinks about the bullshit you spewed about fucking on your period, warning that you’d created a soul tie when he sunk his cock into your wet, bloody heat. It all stirs up a barrage of memories, floating like Polaroids through his mind.

Getting drunk at a Sergeant’s wedding, the both of you scrambling to keep the other silent as drunk laughter escaped your mouths.

Introducing him to your family, your tiny nieces running around his feet, making him think of future miniatures with your eyes and his hair.

The night he cried in your arms after his first death of an innocent, his Captain’s words of ‘collateral’ echoing from every corner.

The fights. About your purpose in the military, two perspectives on how far the two of you should take the rule of law. Getting on each other’s nerves and only solving arguments with sex, disagreements simmering below the surface even as you laid in each other’s arms.

No matter how you made him feel, whatever emotion heated the surface of his skin, no one else has made him feel that level of exposed since.

And that’s something he wants back.

You.

The pair of you are older now, wiser. Content with your respective fields, no longer competing in roles you hated. Right person, wrong time. He’s tired of meaningless hookup and jaw-aching loneliness and shouldering the burden of life alone. You being here must be a cosmic intervention, Laswell repairing a wound he didn’t know he had. Your body is clearly willing to go along, so now it’s a matter of convincing your mind. 

Someone knocks sharply on his door, and he grins to himself.

-

When John opens the door, shirtless, you have to contain yourself. He’s bigger and broader in every way, those faint chest hairs you once knew grown to a bear-like pelt. Various scars and scratches decorate his torso, a mark of his dedication to his duties. He braces the doorframe with his arms at the top of the door, a subtle flex of his biceps which may or may not be purposeful. His beard looks a little overgrown, rugged, and best of all, he’s not wearing a hat.

Probably due to the fact that his hat is in your hands.

“Mornin’, Doc.” He grumbles, half-smiling under the weight of sleep in his eyes. You steel yourself to remain professional, to not remember how his beard feels against your cheek. “I have your hat.” You spit out stupidly. Pushing it towards him, you present it like a bag of trash and not his treasured accessory. “Keep it. Looks good on you.” That sends you sputtering, shaking your head and pressing the hat towards him until it hits his chest. “Last night didn’t happen. We were drunk. Take the hat, John.” You plead. Instead of answering, he leans forward until your fingers, wrapped around the khaki fabric of the hat, brush his skin. They twitch as you restrain yourself from exploring. 

“‘M not hungover, so couldn’t have been drunk. An’ I remember everything, pet.” He murmurs, words rolling off his tongue sweetly. You try to back away, but one of his hands shoots out to to clutch at your wrists, pulling you across the barrier of his door. “John, that can’t happen again. It’s not professional.” You reason, unsuccessfully. He squeezes your wrists together until the hat drops, freeing your hands to be pressed against his pecs. Against reason, your fingers sink into his chest hair. John bends until his mouth is at your jaw, close to your ear. “Reckon we were together ‘fore this. Chicken versus egg, huh, sweetheart?” He presses a kiss to your jaw to emphasize his point. It sends a shiver down your spine, sending you further into his hold as your feet stumble. He hums in approval, a low baritone warm as honey. 

“We’re not together now, John. And I don’t remember agreeing to this.” He kisses your throat as you speak, and despite your verbal protests, your body won’t let you move away. When John peels back, his eyes are dark and his lips look ravished (by you). “You were agreeable last night.” His beard pulls as he smiles condescendingly. It reminds you of the attitude you used to hate, that self-righteousness that would start every other argument. That memory gives you the strength to pull away, stepping back into the safety of the hallway. “I’ll see you Monday, Captain. Refer to the schedule for when and where to meet.” You say, speaking slowly so your words don’t waver. His brows furrow as his eyes flash in confusion. 

“Where are you going until then?” He asks, nearly a demand. You shrug nonchalantly, the picture of indifference. “Need to update Laswell, then meeting a friend in London.” False, you barely have friends since you move around so much. “It’ll be nice to visit the city. I haven’t been in a while.” You turn on your heel, walking down the hallway as his eyes burn into your retreating figure. You need space, away from this man who sucks up all the air in a room. And London is the perfect place to hide for a weekend. But first, your weekly check in with Laswell.

“Laswell.”

“Fuck you.” You spit out. She doesn’t laugh, but it’s a near thing. “So I don’t have to ask how the first week is going? I’m currently watching my wife sun tan, Doc, spit it out.” She says wryly. You roll your eyes and shut the door to your room, prepared to barrage her with angry words. “You knew our history. You helped me change my name back, Laswell! Why the hell am I here?” You ask. Laswell sighs, and in the background, a door shuts and the faint sounds of waves crashing fades. “You’re the best at what you do, Doc.” Even you won’t be goaded by your pride, but you allow yourself a small smile at her words.

“And?” You ask. Another sigh. “And the 141 is the best at what they do. An invaluable unit that isn’t afraid to do what needs to be done. My bosses and their bosses need them back to working capacity, even without Soap.” You collapse onto your bed, staring at the ceiling as you contemplate your words. “I can try my hardest, but I don’t think it will work out how you want it to. With Soap out, I don’t know what way Ghost is leaning.” You’ve seen how they look at each other. It’s the kind of love you used to want for yourself, before reality smacked you in the face. “That leaves John and Gaz. They can still be helped.” She replies smoothly. The mention of your ex-husband makes you all angry again.

“You still haven’t answered my question about John, Laswell. I know you have other doctors, even if I’m your favorite.” You say, a little gleefully. She doesn’t deny it. “I think my wife has infected me.” Laswell mutters. You can’t have heard her right. “What do you mean?” You ask, almost a whisper. “I know the constant moving has been tough, Doc.” She silences you with one sentence. How can you deny it? “And with what happened, I knew John would need someone to rely on. He already shoulders a lot.” She adds, summing up things that might’ve taken months of therapy for someone else to sniff out. 

“So what, you looked at your own marriage and thought you could bring us back together?” You question. Laswell has never been the type to compromise a mission with her personal life. “Laswell?” You ask when she doesn’t respond. “I might’ve mentioned a redacted version to the missus, and she did love you two together…” Laswell says eventually. You stutter in disbelief.

“You tried to matchmake us?!” You almost shriek, catching yourself at the last second. She sighs on the other end. “Call it two birds, one stone, Doc. I’ve got to go.” The line goes dead before you can respond.

Insanity.

-

After an hour long drive in a borrowed base vehicle, you find yourself in London. Specifically, outside your old flat that you shared with John. It’s run down now, grayed and beaten, and you try not to think about that in metaphoric terms. Instead, your feet start moving in the direction of your old favorite coffee shop. A few minutes later, you sigh in relief at the not-so familiar sight. A red roof, faded to maroon, hangs over a sign proclaiming Daisy’s Coffee. The door chimes happily when you enter, taking in the comforting aroma of pastries and caffeine. You order your usual and settle into a window seat, digging out a new book you packed. It’s easy to get lost in the inked words.

After a while, you feel eyes on you. They’ve been staring for a while, but you hype yourself up for confrontation before turning your head. “Excuse me, I- oh. Hi, Johnny.” Johnny grins back at you, sharp blue eyes lighting with contentment. “Doc! How was the rest of yer night?” He sits down into the cushy sofa next to you without invitation, leaning his cane against the coffee table. “It was fine. I think we got back an hour after you.” You almost ask how he got here, but the answer appears a second later. “‘Ere’s your tea, Johnny.” Ghost’s gloved hand impedes your vision, hand a takeout cup to Johnny before coming into view. He’s even more imposing off base, even in his uniform of jeans and a sweatshirt. A black medical mask takes the place of his usual balaclava, allowing you to see his hair for the first time. Blonde. 

“Hi, Lieutenant.” He nods in acknowledgement, sitting down next to Johnny. The velvet blue couch creaks under his weight, before piping down as he settles in. “Big reader, Doc?” Johnny nods to the book in your hands. Your hands curl around it protectively, expecting to be made the butt of a joke. It’s always something about being the only nerd in the military, or keeping your head in the clouds. “Yes.” You almost whisper defensively. Johnny doesn’t smirk at you like you expected, simply smiling. “Cannae read too much now, books give me a right headache.” He replies. Oh. You relax instantly, shifting your position so you’re facing him all the way. “Have you tried audiobooks? I can recommend some good ones.” You’re already whipping out a note from your bag and scribbling down your favorite stories. When you offer it to him, his hand trembles slightly. It reminds you of the hobbies in his file, how he likes to draw. Your heart pangs with the thought of him not being able to continue, marking down a mental note to sign him up for an introductory art therapy class.

They let you get back to your reading, content to converse or simply people watch as you get absorbed in the story. Later on, Johnny excuses himself to the bathroom. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ghost ask if he needs him. Johnny snips a decided no, and walks off to the bathroom frustratedly, leaning on his cane. “Are you noticing mood swings?” You ask Ghost when he turns back to you, eyes glaring at the ground. “Thought you were off the clock, Doc.” He shoots back, ignoring your question. Different tactic, then. “I know that it can be a lot to handle when you’re suddenly put in a caretaker role. If you want to talk, Lieutenant, I’m here.” It’s barely audible, but you can hear Ghost sigh. “I’ll think about it.” He says eventually. You count that as a win. Well, until-

“No hat today?”

Ugh.

You shake your head in prim, tight movements. Last night, all you did was nod at Ghost and practically run to your room. You were hoping he wouldn’t bring it up, but the universe likes to inflict the most amount of pain possible on you in one day. “It wasn’t my style.” You respond. He hums neutrally. “You tried it on before?” Master interrogator, this one. “That’s none of your business.” You bark out before you can contain yourself. 

Fuck, he’s won.

“My captain, my business.” Ghost grumbles. You sigh, defeated. “Yes, okay? Years ago.” You catch his eyes looking at your left hand and almost flinch. There’s no way he knows. Kate made sure to bury it, but with the reputation Ghost has, one can never be too sure. “More than jus’ a hat.” He nods to your hand. Your heart thumps wildly, almost bursting out of your chest. This is where he calls you a slut, a chest candy chaser, only getting married to use Price’s name to your advantage. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His eyebrows, fair and blunt, rise slightly when you don’t disagree. It’s just you two, staring at each other, when Johnny appears out of nowhere, a bag of scones in his hand. The tantalizing smell of blueberry and lemon wafts out, and your stomach grumbles with the knowledge you skipped breakfast in an attempt to escape John.

“‘Ere ya go, hen. Ma stomach’s not as big these days.” Johnny thrusts the bag into your lap, catching onto the stark tension in the air. “Somethin’ ah said?” You and Ghost shake your heads at the same time and the tension breaks. Johnny’s good at that, you’ve realized - putting people at ease. Another question for how the team will survive without him.

“I appreciate the scones, Johnny. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to eat five and get lost in my book.” You shuffle your sitting position so you’re not in Ghost’s direct sightline. Shaking off your nerves, you settle back in and ignore his all-seeing gaze.

-

Hours later, after they bid you goodbye, your old favorite pub calls your name. When you arrive, you order your usual and sink into a squeaky barstool, indulging in the pile of fries before you. Gravy pools into fried goodness, and all it does is remind you of cheese curds and calloused fingers in your mouth. 

“Excuse me, little lady.” Head swiveling slowly to your right, you find the origin of a slimy voice in the man sitting next to you. His hair used to be blonde, but it’s been tarnished into a grimy sort of copper. The cleanshaveness of his jaw offends you for some reason, so dissimilar to the gruff beard you’ve become rapidly used to. And of course, there’s the term: little lady. Disgust slithers down your spine.

“Excuse me?” You respond, narrowing your eyes. Unfortunately, he grins like you’ve said a joke. “A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be all alone at this time of night.” He teases. “It’s 7pm.” You object. He shrugs, running a hand through his oily hair. “No boyfriend to pay for your dinner?” He questions. You snort, disbelieving. “I can pay for my own dinner, thank you.” He leans forward and you instinctively straighten your spine in anticipation of a fight. Military instincts never leave, even if you haven’t properly fought in years.

“Then why don’t I pay you for something else?” His eyes gleam at the insinuation. You sputter in disbelief. No way you’re getting propositioned by such a foul creature. His eyes sweep up and down, leaving you feeling dirty and used. “And how ab-”

“Hi, baby.”

A hefty hand clamps down on the juncture between your shoulder and jaw, a thumb pressing into the side of your neck. His smell hits you a second later, pine and musk and cigars, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Instinctively, you lean back until your head hits solid torso, his hand tightening around you. 

“We got a problem?”

When you look up, John’s glaring at the stranger with murder in his eyes. His hand moves farther down to nearly wrap around your throat, and somehow the familiarity of it sends your lashes fluttering in contentment. Raw and gooey warmth drips down your body, spine relaxing at his touch.

“I was just-”

“Harassing my wife?” A shudder runs through you at his words. Out of the corner of your eye, the stranger slinks back into himself, understanding the gravity of his situation. You can tell the moment he clocks John’s fatigues, the disciplinary tone in his voice. “She was eating alone and I just thought…” He trails off, wisely protecting himself from saying something worse. “A man can’t be late to dinner once and a while?” He retorts. A giggle escapes your throat before you can stop it. John squeezes you and it’s like a drug. “I’ll- I’m-” The man slips off his stool, exiting the pub before John can force him into an apology. 

Your ex-husband takes his place and all of the air is sucked out of the room as he stares at you.

“You found me.” You point out dumbly. He takes a fry and chews it slowly, swallowing before answering. “Simon told me.” He reveals. The chair squeaks as he turns to face you instead of the bar. A forceful hand turns you as well until your thigh slots between his like a puzzle piece. “I had it handled, you know.” You grumble, forcing yourself to sound grumpy. All John does is eat a few more fries while he stares, unbelieving. “You were a few seconds away from slappin’ him, sweetheart. Didn’t want ya to get thrown out ‘fore you could finish your meal.” You grin at his words. “So considerate of my eating habits, John. You sure you didn’t have an ulterior motive?” He shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “It’s not ulterior. You an’ I both know my motives.” He states like they’re set in stone.

“Don’t think I do, John.” Except, you do. John’s never been a casual man, and that certainly hasn’t changed with age. If anything, he’s more possessive than he was years ago. It’s become swiftly clear to you that last night wasn’t just one and done. “You’ll figure it out”, he replies. You immediately drop his gaze, staring at the food in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You called me your wife.” You protest. The two thighs surrounding your own squeeze, hard. “Your point?” Words catch in your throat. Protests of the very real divorce papers filed somewhere, the facts that you have no idea who the other person is anymore. They turn to cotton in your mouth, cutting off any chance of escape.

“Go’on an’ eat your food, pet. Got somethin’ for you when we get back home.”

Home.

You eat.

-

one more chap left! this whole story does take place in two weeks bc i fear that's how long it would take me to give in to john LMAO and this is x reader sooo

[toughlovemelo]

Beneath the covers | John Price

You and John are under the covers, your hands freezing and curled up into him for warmth, leading to him warming you up in other ways <3

—> 18+, first smut pls be nice!!, fem! reader, sub! reader, daddy kink, dom! john price, dirty talk (the word slut used once or twice), soft smut, sorta rough smut if you squint, fingering, john talks u through it (duh)

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

A warm winter night, one that occurs right before spring hits, but the airs cold enough to layer up.

Or, in your case, bundle up with price beneath the abundance of blankets you’ve insisted on having on the bed. “I get cold easily, john” you’d pouted when he asked if 4 blankets was really necessary, and who was he if not easily convinced by your pretty voice followed by a prettier pout?

He’d never dare complain, any request you had he’d fill happily. Despite being boiling beneath the blankets you’ve accumulated, all he could feel was love for you and your cold hands.

“Y’know sweet girl, we could always turn the heat on if you’re so cold. Warm those icy hands of yours right up, hm?” He said gently, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as you buried yourself into his chest. “It gets stuffy when the heats on, plus the blankets are cozy.” You’d whined, voice soft with sleepiness.

And god, did the sound of your voice make him melt. He held you closer to him, guiding more of your body onto his until you were practically on top of him chest to chest as you laid in bed together. One hand around your shoulders with the other gently running through your hair, massaging your scalp softly with the pads of his fingers as he reached the top of your head before gently working out the tangles in your hair you managed to get throughout the day.

“mm, that so?” Price’s voice rumbled against you, “my girl need some more warming up?”

You knew what that meant, of course. One of his favorite ways to ‘warm you up’ was by getting you off, making your chest heave and throat ache from whimpering until you were red in the face from pleasure.

You let out of soft hum of acknowledgment, face growing a deep shade of pink as you heard his words. A quiet “please” left your lips, and that was all he needed to take the hand that was running through your hair to spread your thighs, guiding you to lay in your back against his chest with your head still laying on him. His large, rough yet gentle with you, hand rubbed your inner thigh softly kneading the skin.

“Atta girl, sweetheart. Think this was what you wanted all along, wasn’t it? Just needed daddy to fill you up with his fingers, keep you all warm and full?” He teased, palming your cunt through your panties. When he heard your soft whimper of agreement, he began rubbing your clothed clit with his index and middle finger, feeling just how wet you’ve been this whole time. “Christ, you’re soaked darlin’, my sweet girls been desperate for a while hasn’t she?”

All you could manage was a moan in response, bucking your hips slightly to show your desperation for his touch. “John, please” you whimpered, voice starting to get breathless.

Price’s hand stopped rubbing your clothed clit, instead pulling his hand away to strike it. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of who you were speaking to. “Now, that’s not the way we address daddy is it? Let’s try that again, princess. If you want this needy cunt of yours to feel anything besides desperation you’ll mind your manners.” He said, clearly displeased with how you’d responded but kept his voice soft enough to keep you in the soft headspace you were falling into.

“Daddy- god. I’m so sorry. Please don’t stop touching me, I’ll be a good girl. I promise. Please-!” You all but whined, and he cut off your pleas by slipping his hand beneath the waistband of your panties, rubbing up and down your slick cunt before using his thumb to rub your clit while his middle finger teased your entrance. “Now that’s a good girl, princess. Just needed a reminder, hm?” He replied, a smirk on his face.

You moans egged him on, and he allowed his finger to slip inside you. Moving in and out a few times before adding a second, while his thumb rubbed circles in your clit. “mm, that’s it. Look at your greedy cunt taking my fingers so well. She’s almost as desperate as you, isn’t she? Think she can take a third finger?” He teased, moving his fingers in and out and a quicker pace, causing your moans to grow louder as you buried your face back into his chest, a nonverbal yes portrayed by your actions.

“mhm, we know you can, can’t you? Had my cock filling you up so nicely a few hours ago, a tight fit but you took it so well.“ Price smiled as he spoke, adding a third finger as you bucked your hips again and your moans grew into incoherent babbling., “God- ah- daddy please. Feels so good. So, so good.” Followed your moans.

“I know, sweet girl. I know. Taking it so well, just like I trained you to hm?” Price said before moving the hand that was around your shoulders to wrap around your throat, squeezing hard enough not to cut off your breathing fully, but enough to remind you that you were his. That he was the one fingering your greedy cunt, soaked to the point it was soaking your inner thighs and his hand. “C’mon, just take it for daddy. Know you can, you’re my good girl, yeah? Daddy’s good girl? Need to make you cum on my fingers like the slut you are.” He mumbled affectionately, hand moving faster as his fingers plowed into your cunt.

Your whines were music to his ears, pleading with him to keep going which he happily obliged. The hand around your throat squeezed harder as he sensed you getting close, before his voice gruffly reminded you “What do we say when we want to cum, baby? Don’t forget your manners now. You were doing so good for me, you can’t have gone that dumb from just my fingers.”

And god, you had gone that stupid. If your babbling from earlier wasn’t proof enough then your breathless voice and whimpering certainly was. You begged him to cum, voice breaking as you said “please, please daddy. Can I cum? Please? I’ve been so good for you. Took your fingers so well, need to cum. Please, can’t take it.”

“That’s a good girl. Knew you could listen. Go on then, cum for me princess. Know that greedy cunt of yours is aching to, cum for daddy” He said, fingers slamming in and out of your cunt as quick as he could as his thumb rubbed fast circles on your clit.

You came hard, quickly. Panting as pathetic “thank you, thank you daddy” fell from your lips. Chest heaving as your moans echoed through the room, his very own symphony as you tightened around his fingers and his hand around your throat fell to rub through your hair again.

“Good girl, sweetheart. That’s it, you did so good for me. Always do, always.” Price smiled, placing another soft kiss to your head as he took his fingers out of you, bringing them to your mouth as he said “Clean ‘em off baby, cmon. Open that pretty mouth for me.” You obliged quickly, tongue lapping up your slick from his fingers eagerly as he thrusted them gently into your mouth before pulling them out, and pulling you tightly to his chest again.

“Atta girl, darlin’. Daddy warm you up enough, hm?”

————

⤥ if u liked this pls pls pls like n follow n comment if u want :) this is my first fanfic & smut ever LOL im very nervous posting this :,) i have requests open!!! Feel free to send a request or say anything if u want! I love u, take care of urself <3

[kittykittyneowmeow69]

John Price x Cat shifter!Witch reader

Witch reader shape-shifts into a cat to stalk price, until he catches her. (BRAIN-ROT)

You are a young witch, an apprentice so to say, of a great lineage, perhaps the greatest in all of the lands and all of the oceans.

Your great grandmother—The great Lady Nightshade—brewed potions so mighty that they could subdue a million men! After all it was because of her aid that the King could be victorious in the great wars. Oh, and your grandmother, well she could fly across the red sea on her broom in just a day! Making the sailors green with envy. And well, we cannot forget your mother. Your mother, she has always had quite morbid curiosities, necromancy being the least of what she can do.

You, on the other hand are not a great witch yet, perhaps middling at best at brewing potions, a little better at healing and well absolutely horrendous at controlling the broom—you fell in the river not too long ago ,after all.

However, you have an ability. A magic woven in your lineage, which after 9 whole generations of great witches , has reemerged. Well it’s a curious ability, one you indulge in more often than necessary perhaps; shape-shifting into a cat. A calico cat in particular with a rust spot on your eye, and a black one just above your left ear.

So, you were on your way to proud spinsterhood,—a right of passage for all great witches—when a curious man had intrigued you. “He’s a general for the Queens Army, quite a mighty one, after all Her majesty rewarded him with the Blackthorne estate” — the blacksmith’s daughter whispered,as she glanced at him at the town hall.

He was broad shouldered , a big man—oh the biggest one you had ever seen, except for the masked knight who had trotted across from your cottage once—He had a peculiar beard was grizzled and always stern.

You had been following for quite a while now, as a cat of course, trotting behind him, sneaking into his estate, you watched him sip a cup of tea at dawn once, even entered into his manor , though his servant drove you out by swatting you with a broom. (oh, the brooms have it out for you).

One gorgeous spring evening, you trotted into his estate, making your way to the garden. You skipped around the little path, smelling fresh roses and a menagerie of various spring blooms, when you saw him, John Price, lounging on the patio chair.

Unlike the many, many other times you had followed him around, observing like a fly on the wall, or perhaps more aptly a cat in the corner, this time, with bazaar brazenness searing your blood, you jumped on to the chair next to him.

“ kitty where did you come from hmm” —he mused with a tender affliction, glancing at you, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

You licked your paw, and swiped your ear with it, preening yourself for a moment, than rather abruptly you jumped on his lap.

“ aren’t you pretty”, he hummed stroking you with his big grizzled hands—petting your little head, under your chin, behind your ear. Oh, his hands were the heaviest you had felt as a cat or a witch, and the petting was making you purr was also making you drowsy.

However, time was ticking, so you had to abruptly leap off him and scurry home. With the magic wearing off, you knew you would shape-shift back—after all you didn’t want him to have a naked little witch on his lap instead of a cat, did you now.

——————-

You went to see him at his estate periodically after that, which often quite pleased him —“ now where did you come from Cat” ,he acknowledged your presence, stroking your little head, when you often sneaked up on him. Sometimes you would catch a rodent or two as little presents, placing them at his feet. “ oh, quite a little hunter you are”

Often though he would place you on his shoulder as he sauntered around the gardens, smoking a cigar. And when you leapt off him to scurry home, he would hum, disappointed, almost forlorn.

“Wonder where you go off to Cat”

He even purchased a Tuscan leather collar with a silver bell for you, which you often wore on your many escapees around.

————————

A dreadful evening, a gloomy one at that, you were scurrying around the town hall,soaked by rain, when all of the sudden you were scruffed and placed inside a carriage, before you could even hiss, you heard his voice.—“oh you are soaked, aught to get you home before you get the shivers Kitty”.

Now, in ordinary circumstances you would be quite pleased with going along with him, it is would certainly satiate the gaping void limerence leaves you with so often these days. But today was not that day, your magic was waining and soon you would transform back into yourself, a naked you at that.

You tried to escape, oh you did—tried to jump out of the carriage, even hissed at him—which got you a stern reprimand also got you scruffed up and imprisoned in his lap.

“Can’t keep trotting around kitty, going to take you home now, keep you, will be a good house cat won’t you now. “ he said surly, with a slight curious tinge in his voice. This was bad, bad. In mere moments you would turn back in you, and there is no way you could reach back to your cottage in time.

He carried you into the manor and strode toward the library, his steps steady and deliberate. Pushing the heavy oak door shut behind him, he gently set you down before the crackling fireplace, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room.

“ Need to get you all dry kitty, hmm”, he hummed, placatingly scratching behind your ear.

Your eyelids grew heavy as you fought to stay awake. Resisting the urge to shapeshift back drained your strength, each passing moment demanding more effort to hold your form. Before you knew it you were gone, lulled into a deep ocean of sleep.

———————-

You woke up with a slow trembling breath, heavy limbed and sleep warm. With the little strength you had you planted your elbows on the mattress and pushed yourself up. Your limbs felt heavy, human heavy, as you leisurely acclimated to your new state.

Then, your breath caught. Across from the bed, in the dim glow of the room, he sat—silent, unmoving—his eyes locked onto you, watching.

“Little witch, we finally meet, at last. “

[sarahsghosts]

the death and resurrection of jonathan price

john price x female, wife!reader

angst with an eventual happy ending

word count: 1030

cw: user regrets having sex idk if that needs a warning

disclaimer: we're going to let rea der be a saddie in this one. this won't be the tone of the entire fic from here on out, but i felt it was important for her to be able to process her confusion and grief that comes along with john's rejection.

short chapter this time. really just a bridge to chapter 5, but i thought was necessary.

also, let me know if you guys like it when i put the links to the songs in the chapter or if you just want me to list them at the top. i’m having fun with it but it also feels lame as hell

chapter 4

songs: dynasty - MIIA, used to the darkness - des rocs, arcade (ft. fletcher) - duncan laurence

“you can show yourself out.”

you sat up, staring after john. he closed the door without looking back at you and the sound of the shower running came a moment later.

you sat frozen for several minutes, your eyes locked on that bathroom door. when you broke out of your trance, you looked around and realized the only items in the room were the mattress which rested on a box spring (that sat directly on the floor) and a phone charger plugged into the far wall outlet.

you were so determined, moments ago, not to give up on him. to keep fighting to get through to him. but the regret that suddenly burned through you was all consuming. you couldn’t find a trace of that stubborn resolve.

he had used and discarded you so easily. you felt ashamed. humiliated.

did he genuinely not care about you anymore?

no. that couldn’t be the case.

he must be doing this on purpose, to push you away.

you hated that, at the moment, it was working.

you needed a second to get your thoughts together and you knew you couldn’t do it here.

you slid off the bed, feeling degraded as you walked around the room, picking up your discarded clothing.

sweaty and otherwise sticky, you redressed, feeling even more demeaned.

carrying your shoes in one hand, you moved out into the main area of the flat, really taking it in for the first time.

dimly lit with old water stains on the walls. empty beer cans littered various surfaces. a single armchair and an end table in the living room. a pull up bar hung from the doorway that led into the kitchen.

you peered in there and saw an empty whiskey bottle on the counter next to a stack of paper plates.

the sight of this place was really pitiful, which, in turn, made you feel even more pathetic yourself.

while you were taking it all in, the sound of running water cut off abruptly. for some reason, you found yourself suddenly terrified of facing john after he had told you to leave.

you slipped on your shoes and fled.

john scrubbed his hand over the back of his head, his hair still wet from the shower. hearing the sound of your voice moan out his name took him back for a moment.

back to the version of himself he used to be.

he couldn’t stand it.

the truth being that version of himself was dead.

he had died a long time ago, in a russian prison.

captain jonathan price was by no means a weak man, but even the strongest men couldn’t survive in a place like that. it was torture. the horrors inflicted there were barbaric and vile in a way most people couldn’t even comprehend.

he’d had to become someone something entirely brutal. something savage.

something that could survive

the part of himself that had to be unlocked, couldn’t just be shoved back into it’s cage. there was no coming back from the things he done to outlast the nightmares around him.

he stood there in the bathroom, a towel tied around his waist. the mirror was fogged, obscuring his reflection. good. he didn’t even want to look at himself right now.

why?

was this guilt creeping in?

no. he really didn’t care about you. sure, it was nice to have a quick fuck. it’d been so long and you were so willing.

the vision of you, your eyebrows pulled together, your eyes screwed shut, was clear in his mind.

“john,” you had moaned. “i—”

he had covered your mouth because he couldn’t stand to hear your voice, so breathy and needy. so desperate for him.

he had seen your face as he stood from the bed, refusing to stay with you, basking in the afterglow. that would’ve been far too intimate. would’ve gotten your hopes up.

john leaned down, supporting himself with his palms flat on the bathroom counter.

no. this was better.

and yet, the crestfallen look on your face was like a knife in his gut.

you truly were pathetic.

or maybe he was.

he glanced up to see that the steam had begun to clear. he saw his own eyes looking back at him and before he realized what had happened, he had blood and glass sprayed on his knuckles where they had connected with the mirror.

you called in sick to work. you spent most of the walk home silently crying and the idea of trying to clean yourself up to work your evening shift was unbearable.

by the time you made it home, you just felt empty. numb. and when you weren’t numb, you were disgusted with yourself. you’d been thoroughly used.

you moved into your flat, wandering in a haze and letting autopilot take over.

you dropped your keys into the bowl by the door, kicked your shoes off, and hung up your jacket.

when you came out of your brain fog, you were standing in your kitchen, holding a tin of tea.

your hair was damp and you realized that you had showered at some point.

you looked at the kettle on the stove, steam coming out of the spout. you blinked.

the unsettling thought creeped in my mind. you had used john a little bit, too, hadn’t you?

you ran your hands through your hair and moved to the pantry, retrieving a jar of honey.

you’d been so desperate for a trace of the man you had married. desperate for him to touch you, make you feel something you hadn’t in years.

desperate for him to love you.

you struggled to open the sticky lid of the honey jar.

images of john’s face flashed in your mind. his eyes wild and animalistic. the hunger and lust you’d seen in them carried no remnants love or admiration. only base desire.

maybe there really was nothing left of your husband in him.

you lost your grip on the jar and it slipped from your hands, tumbling towards the ground.

you flinched, bracing yourself for the sound of breaking glass. but there’s only a dull thump.

you looked down to see the jar sitting at your feet, intact and unbroken.

reflexively, you scooped it up, and let your rage fuel you as you hurled it at the wall.

it shattered loudly, leaving sticky shards of glass streaking down the painted brick.

part 5

—

TAGLIST:

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @evergreenfields @galactict3a @who-needs-to-sleep

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 28 - Dreaming Wide Awake

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 10.3k words. Oh no the conciquenses of your actions called. They're here to fuck you up.

CW: +18 content MDNI. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (heats, scenting, distress), sex, anal sex, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, non-con drugging, hurt/ comfort, blood, assault, nightmares, medical inaccuracies, mentions of SA & rape, mentions of death, alcohol, angst.

AN: This is it, this is endgame. The plot for the end of the series has been drafted and starts here. It's bitter sweet but all things must end. I reckon there are maybe 8 more chapters left (not including the multiple epilogues) but it is subject to change. Anyway enjoy <3

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Piper crashes through the door into Price’s office. 

“Piper?” He calls standing up as soon as he sees her. She doesn’t have time for a reunion. 

“The omega. She’s gone.” Her words are breathless, it took all her energy to get to his office.

“Gone?” He asks, standing up and walking  around the desk. 

“You didn’t tell her about Hale!” She snaps. None of this would be happening if you knew, she wouldn’t have been the one to break the news. 

“It’s complicated, you were shot, she was shot. I was waiting for you to wake up.” He says, she scoffs, shaking her head. 

“She’s gone, John. We need to find her.” 

“Soap is supposed to be watching her.” He says as they both walk out of his office.

“When I woke it was just her.” Piper says. John nods and they start walking through the building.

“Price!” Simon calls coming in through the entrance.

“Not now.” He dismisses him heading for the mess. Johnny comes out with a slice of toast in his mouth.

“Piper!” He smiles, his mouth full of food. 

“MacTavish, what part of ‘never leave the omega alone’ did you not understand?” Price snaps. He’s pacing now. 

“I’ve been gone for less than 5 minutes.” He says frowning.

“That’s all she needed.” Piper snaps. She doesn’t mean it to come out so angry but she doesn’t care. Right now you’re the priority. 

“Price!” Simon says coming closer.

“What!?” “He’s not alone, there’s at least one other guy.” 

“How sure.” John asks, Simon just tips his head to the side. “Shit.”

“First priority is finding the omega.” John says.

“What happened to the omega?” Simon asks. He doesn’t get a reply as a random soldier walks through the door. 

“Captain Price.” The soldier stops and sautes him. “The lady, someone saw her go through the gates a few minutes ago.” 

“What direction?” Price asks. The soldier doesn’t know what to say. Price sighs pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Ghost, go with him, find out what you can. Do not go far. Soap go wake Gaz.” Price says before turning to Piper. “Why did she run?” 

“I told her about Hale.” Piper says “You did what?!” Price snaps getting up in her face. Johnny moves over to step in between them.

“Easy cap.” He says. 

“That was not your decision to make!” Price snaps.

“John! You should have told her ages ago. What did you think was going to happen?” She says holding her ground. 

“What’s going on?” Fleur asks. Everyone turns to look at her coming out of the lab. “Piper, what’s happening?” She comes over her hand resting on Piper's arm.

“I’m okay, the omega is missing.” Piper says. 

“Missing? I saw her this morning.” Fleur says. 

“I know. It’s my fault.” Piper says looking over at John. 

“Soap go get Gaz.” Price says again walking away from Piper. Simon comes back in through the front doors.

“She went west.” He says.

“Take 2 of them head that direction.” Price orders. “Stay on coms.” 

“Wait.” Piper calls. “She could be in distress. You’ll have to be careful, she could hurt you or herself.” 

“What do we do then?” Simon asks.

“Call us. I will go with John, Fleur-” Piper turns to look at her. “-Stay here, get ready incase she comes back injured or in distress.” 

“Are you sure she’s in distress?” John asks. 

“There’s a high chance.” Piper says, turning back to him. They all look up as Johnny and Kyle come down the stairs. He looks confused.

“Gaz, Soap take 2 of them and head towards the buildings north-west.” Price says, he steps over to Piper.

“You’re with me. Is there anything we can do to find her quicker?” John says.

“If she’s in distress her scent will be stronger.” Piper says. 

“Soap! Send two of those marines over!” Price shouts through the building's door. Piper watches as he gives a thumbs up. She turns back to Fleur. 

“Prep me a midazolam, double dose just in case.” Piper says, Fleur nods and heads back towards the lab.

“What’s that?” John asks.

“Sedative.” 

“What about scuffing her?” John asks. 

“Not unless there is no other option, if she’s in distress it might not work anyway.” Piper says grimly.

“We’re going to find her before it comes to that.” John says.

Piper sighs. “I hope so.” 

They’ve been looking for hours, and the sun is starting to set. Piper's nose is raw from trying to smell you out. 

“Nothing.” She says coming back over to the car and getting into the front seat. 

“We’re almost at the border of the army's land.” Price says.

“Does that change things?” Piper asks. 

“She could run into civilians.” Price says. Piper sighs looking back out the window, she closes her eyes trying to focus on picking up your scent. You could be anywhere, you could be injured. She’s lucky that the omega scent is so strong. It's just been so long since she has had to focus so hard on picking it up. 

Then suddenly the smell of metal hits her nose. It's harsh and cold. It reminds her of rust but behind it is something sweet, unmistakably your scent.  

“There!” She calls pointing at a small collection of trees. John calls in the location as they drive over. When they make it to the outskirts they all jump out of the car as Soap and Gaz arrive. A few seconds later another car pulls up with Simon and more soldiers getting out. 

“Let's split, you go that way, we’ll work our way in-” A gunshot rings out followed by a blood curdling scream that makes goosebumps rise on the back of John's neck. They all take off running into the trees, John’s head is going a million miles an hour. 

What if you’ve been shot? What if you shot someone? They don’t know what state you’re in and they have to assume the worst. 

John Jogs through the trees to see you straddled over a soldier, your hands locked around his neck.

“Ghost!” He calls his head snapping over to him. “Get round her!” 

“On me Soap.” Ghost calls as they both walk over to you. It’s like you don’t hear them, you’re laser focused on the man under your grip. Soap drops his weapon letting it swing to his side as he hooks his arms under your armpits pulling you off the man. Gaz moves over helping him to his feet and dragging him out the way.

“Let me go!” You’re screaming as Soap pulls you back.

“It's okay, you’re okay.” Soap is saying but you’re not listening, your vision focused on soldier you had under your grip, your thrashing in Soap’s arms. He loses control of you and you fall to the ground rushing towards Ghost. Gaz tries to pull you out the way but he’s too late and you throw yourself onto Ghost digging your teeth into his neck. 

John has never heard Ghost scream before but that's what happens. Your teeth are locked around his neck. 

“Hold her down, I’ll sedate her.” Piper says, reaching into her bag. John snaps to look at you.

“Piper-”

“It’s the safest way to control this John.” John nods looking in her eyes, he turns heading towards you as Soap and Gaz are pulling you off Ghost. There’s blood running down your chin as you scream. Gaz tends to Ghost as Soap tries to wrangle with you. John goes over to help grab your flailing arms. He looks in your eyes, you’re not there. 

It’s like Canada all over again but worse. Blood is dripping down your face, there’s a fresh wound on the top of your head. You’ve reopened the wounds on your hands, your clothes are covered in dirt and blood. You smell of something horrible, rust, mint and something John can only describe as acetone. Your eyes are blown out, pupils dilated all the way to the edges of your iris leaving your eyes looking like black voids.

“Let her go.” Piper says, snapping John out his head. “It’s fast acting.” Him and Soap let you go and everyone takes a step back. Your eyes are snapping around everyone, you’re not focused though, your eyes switching between noises. Your arms are stretched out like you’re ready to grab whoever comes near you. The way you’re moving, the way your head twitches between noises it’s almost not even human. 

“Hold your fire!” Price calls as more soldiers come out of the woodline. You stumble, your movements are becoming sluggish as you look around at the sounds of branches breaking. Piper has already taken a step closer to you. John follows her, moving closer and closer as you lower your arms. Your hand comes up to your head. 

John watches you sway collapsing to your knees, he rushes over wrapping his arms around you. Piper presses her hands around your face holding it up.

“You’re okay hun, it’s okay.” She says, You’re shivering against him, you’re still trying to fight as you succumb to the sedative. 

“Alpha?” You whimper, your voice breaks as you lean back in his arms. John squeezes his eyes closed for a second as your voice rings in his head. You don’t smell right, you don’t feel right, your body shakes in his arms. Everything about this is wrong. 

He let you down again and now here you are slumped in his arms as you’re fighting against your own body. 

Piper picks up John's free hand placing it in yours “feel that? Your alphas got you. He's got you.” She says. For a second you seem to be aware of what's happening. It doesn’t last long though before sobbing starts. 

“I'm here.” John tightens his grip around you, your fingers are digging into him. He can see the distress in Piper's face. “I’m here, I’ve got you. You’re okay, everything is going to be okay.” 

He feels your body completely slump against him, your breathing slowing. He watches as Piper presses her fingers into your neck. 

“John she-” Piper's voice breaks as she stands up. “We need to get her back.” 

“What happens now?” Soap asks coming over to stand next to Piper. She eyes the weapon in his arms. John looks over at Ghost who’s stood with a bandage pressed against his neck. Gaz is standing behind Soap with a worried look on his face. 

“Soap-” 

“Price. I got this.” Ghost’s voice rings in the air. He watches him walk over Soap moves out the way letting him through. Ghost bends down, his thumb wipes your chin. John can see the wound on his neck, he can see it already starting to heal.  

“Take Piper and get her safe. That’s your Job Price; get her safe.” Price looks up into Ghost’s eyes, this isn’t an order from Ghost. This is Simon talking to him, Simon asking him to keep you safe. He’s already failed at that. 

“We should get her back. The sedative won’t last as long while she’s in distress.”  Piper says. John nods and Soap comes over to help put you in John’s arms while Ghost starts giving out orders. Soap’s fingers come to brush hair out your eyes.

“Keep an eye on him.” John says to Soap who nods. You mumble in John’s arms it’s incoherent, he can see sweat building up on your forehead. John walks as quickly as he dares back to the car with Piper who opens the back door.

“I can get in with her.” She says. John nods and when she’s in he places you down on the back seats. She pulls your head up so it’s resting on her knees. He closes the door and lets out a breath before getting into the car. He looks in the rearview mirror seeing you murmur squirming against Piper as she tries to calm you, her hands running over your head. 

He let you down again. 

…

“No, don’t hurt them!” You’e babbling randomly. “Please leave them.” John grips the steering wheel tight as he drives back to the building. He keeps checking the rearview mirror to see your head laid in Pipers lap. She’s hushing you, stroking your hair as you’re starting to come round already. 

“What's the plan? How does she come out of distress?” Price asks. There’s a lump forming in his throat, he can smell you, your fear, sadness. It's nothing like the sweet smell he’s used to. 

“It depends on her.” She sighs looking up at him. “When she’s in distress her consciousness is pushed deep in her mind. She needs to get herself back, all we can do is keep her safe. It’s a defence mechanism at the end of the day, her mind is trying to protect her from the trauma happening around her.” 

“So she won’t remember any of this?” He asks, Piper looks back down at you. 

“No, she’ll remember it. Most of it at least. Not this though, now she’s too far gone.” Piper says. 

“What happened last time she was in distress?” He asks. 

“Hale forced it, he wanted to study her. He had tried to force it before but she only ever got this deep once.” 

“How did he do it?” 

“I think it’s best you dont know.” She says. Price sighs as he drives through the gate. There are still soldiers mulling around. Kate is already waiting for them, soldiers approach them as he gets out the car. 

“How is she?” Kate asks as John opens the back door, Kate gasps when she sees you. 

“The blood’s not hers.” John says. Well most of it isn’t anyway.

“Who?” 

“Riley, he’s fine.” John says as he picks you up in his arms. You’re warm, warmer than usual, there's a thin sheen of sweat over your body. 

“Please. Stop.” You whisper, it breaks John's heart all over again. You shuffle in his arms, he grips you tighter, Piper comes over pressing the back of her hand on your forehead. 

“We need to get her temperature down.” Piper says as they make their way over to the building. Fleur is coming out now jogging over with Piper's bag in her hand. 

“We’re going to need to set up for a catheter and a feeding tube. We’ll need to order what we don’t have.” John hears Piper say to Fleur, she’s trying to keep her voice low but not low enough for John to miss. He looks down at you, your eyes squeezed closed and your brow is creased. He hitches you tighter against him.  

They make it into the medical room and John comes over to put you down on the bed. You’re still murmuring, moving around. Your eyes even flutter open every now and then.  

“Do you want me to set up an IV?” Fleur asks, coming over to you with her arms full of supplies.

“Let’s start a central line.” Piper says before turning to him. “John, do you want to step outside?” 

“Why?” He asks, not taking his eyes off you. 

“We need to strip her down, shove tubes in her. You might not want to watch.” Piper says, he hesitates, he doesn’t want to leave, not even now you’re safe. He walks to the exit anyway, Kate is waiting on the other side of the door. He looks into the lab, the windows have been boarded up. 

“Major Williams has been running security checks on everyone. He wants to meet with you and General Harrow from the royal marines to discuss the next steps.” Kate says. 

“I want you to be there.” Price says pinching the bridge of his nose. “They had a security breach and didn’t even realise until you had flown over here. By then it was too late.” 

“I don’t know how happy they’ll be about that.” Kate says.

“I don’t care.” John says, he snaps. He doesn’t mean it but Kate nods anyway. 

“What's wrong with her?” She asks, changing the subject.

“She’s in distress, it’s an omega thing, a defence mechanism.”

“Yeah, I’ve read about it from Dr. Montgomeries notes.” Kate sighs. 

“I’ll let them know you’re willing to meet with them.” She says turning to leave.

“Wait, actually-” John doesn’t get to finish his sentence as your scream fills the air. He is already turning on his heels back to the medical room. His head is pounding, he needs to get to you. Protect you, pull you into his arms and hold you against him. 

When he makes it through the door Piper is already coming towards him but his eyes are focused on you thrashing in the bed while Fleur tries to hold you down. Piper's hands land flat on his chest, she uses all her strength to hold him back. “John!” She calls, she’s shouting but he can’t hear it, it’s muffled in his ears.

“John, stop! She’s okay, look at me John.” His head snaps to her, for a second he sees fear in her eyes. It makes him stop fighting against her. She doesn’t move her hands though keeping a firm push on his chest. It’s strangely grounding. 

“She’s safe.” He’s not sure he believes her his hand goes up to rub the back of his neck. He feels a shiver run down his spine, each whimper out your mouth makes his head throb. 

“She-” He lets out a frustrated sigh, he’s not sure how to describe it, all he knows is something is very very wrong. 

“I know, I know, she’s in distress. Everything is a threat to her right now, even if we are trying to help. She’s being protected by her subconscious, it doesn't know you’re her alpha or her mate. Right now you’re a threat.” 

He lets out a breath watching you calm as Fleur empties a syringe into a line coming out your chest. 

“If we keep her sedated for the next 24 hours or so, it should give her body enough time to relax and put its defenses down. That's when she’ll need you, she’ll need an alpha around her.” 

“Mate?” Price asks, Piper smiles. 

“Mate, partner, boyfriend, whatever you want to call it. I would say you’re more than just her alpha.” John doesn’t get time to take in the new information before you’re mumbling again, crying out for help.

“It’s okay,” Fleur says as he dabs your forehead with a damp cloth. It doesn’t seem to do much.

“What can I do?” John asks. 

“Get some rest while she’s sedated. Try not to worry too much. She’s safe here.” Piper says.

“Is she though? Hale is still after her, he knows where she is and now she’s incapable of defending herself.” 

“That's what she has a pack for. That’s what she has alpha’s for.” Piper says, dropping her hands slowly. 

“She attacked Simon.”

“She didn’t know who he was. When he gets here we’ll take a look at him.” Piper says, she squeezes his arm. “Get some rest John. I promise I’ll call you if anything changes.” He feels a hand on his shoulder, he knows it’s Kate, she’s trying to be reassuring. 

“I’ll stick around until they get back.” He says looking over at Fleur turning her attention to tend to the wounds that you reopened on your hands. Piper is prepping some kind of tube, maybe she’s right, he doesn’t want to sit here and watch them tend to you like this. 

He turns to Kate who looks at him sympathetically, he ignores her walking past her to the exit. He let you down again, Piper was right, they should have told you sooner. They shouldn’t have gotten comfortable here, he can’t trust anyone anymore. Not until Hale is dead and buried, that has to be his only mission now, finding and putting a bullet into Hales head. 

Piper walks down the stairs from her nap. The sun is starting to set and the building is filling with oranges and pinks. You would love it, it’s been almost 48 hours since your distress started. There hasn’t been much change but that she expected, at least for the first 72 hours. 

She hasn’t seen John much, he had a meeting with the base commanders but she wasn’t privy to how that meeting went. There’s no point in trying to ask Simon-who has been the person spending the most time with you. That's good, you are going to need your alpha’s round you. 

Piper walks into the medical room and turns the light on. Her eyes immediately go to Simon, hunched over your head makes her jump, she doesn’t understand why he prefers to sit in the dark. 

“Hey” She says standing in the doorway, he looks over. 

“Hey,” he replies. Simon is so good at hiding his scent but for a second she swears she can smell his sadness. She lets out a breath closing the door behind her and walks into the room. She comes over to the bed looking over you, Simon’s fingers are laced with yours, his thumb rubs yours. Piper opens the cupboard, taking out the drugs she needs and drawing them up. 

You’re staying asleep for longer which is good. If you’re resting then your body is not having to work so hard. Piper looks over at the IV bag, it still hurts seeing you like this. Tubes in your nose, wires coming off your chest. 

“You can go get some rest.” She says looking at the clock on the wall. Johnny or Kyle will be in here to take over from him soon. 

“I have nightmares about her being alone.” Simon says. She walks over to him resting her hand on his shoulder. She can hear the stuffiness in his voice, she can hear the shake. He stiffens under her grip. 

“She’ll never be alone.” Piper says. She moves her hand reaching over to the central tube line injecting the drugs. At least you’re breathing for yourself, Piper’s not worried about your heart or your lungs. It’s the only good thing that could come out of this, that you don’t need another tube shoved down your throat to help you breathe. 

“When do you think she could wake up?” Simon asks. Piper pulls the stool over to sit down. 

“Last time she was distressed she was out for a week.” Piper says. She picks up the damp cloth reaching over to dab your head. Your hair is always stuck to your skin which is constantly covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

“How did he do it? Get her in distress.” 

“I don’t think you want to know.” She sighs brushing hair behind your ears. 

“I do.” He says looking over at her. She nods, taking in a breath. 

“It was one of the first scientists she got close to. His name was Darren, he was a young, pretty beta. Hale saw how close they got and decided to use him to push her.” Piper shuffles in the chair, she doesn’t want to tell this story. “He let them get close. He-he let her fall in love with him.” 

“Shit.” Simon whispers. Piper reaches out to rub your arm. 

“Towards the end Darren was even in on it. He tried to push her more and more stringing her along, playing-” 

“I begged him to stop but he insisted on pushing her boundaries. It was the perfect storm really. She was in pre-heat, they were having sex and Hale just killed him.” Piper sighs. Simon’s hand moves over to rest on hers. She looks up at him, she can see the puffiness in his eyes even with the mask and the paint.

“I think she was lucky, it was traumatic enough that she doesn’t seem to remember it much. Immediately after the distress was over she was in heat.” Piper says. She pulls her hand away from Simon’s and goes back to dabbing your head with the cool cloth. 

“How long ago did it happen?” Simon asks his hand going back to lace his fingers with yours. 

“5 years ago.” Piper sighs, letting the cloth linger on your forehead seeing if there's any reaction from you. Nothing, she was hopeful for a second. 

“How’s John doing? I would understand if he’s struggling.” Piper says.

“He’s fine, just been busy.” Simon says. Piper looks over at him, she’s not sure if she believes him or not. 

“If you- or if he needs anything you just have to ask.” Piper says, Simon looks over at her.

“Like what?” He asks frowning. Suddenly Piper’s not sure what to say. 

“My door is always open.” She says. “If you need to talk.” Piper feels like she can see him smile for a second, she turns back to look at you her hand reaches over to dab your head again. Simon shuffles in the chair, Piper can smell his alpha. 

She relaxes, her fingers start to push hair behind your ear. There’s a knock at the door, they both turn and Simon gets to his feet to go over and answer it.

“Simon, a word?” Kyle asks as he sticks his head into the medical room. Simon nods, looking back over at you and Piper quickly before leaving the room. 

“I’m worried about John.” Kyle says.

“He’s fine.” Simon lies. Kyle sighs and brings his hand around to show him the empty liquor bottles. 

“Shit.” Simon breaths.

“Dispose of them, discreetly . I’ll talk to him. You come back and stay with the omega.” Simon says, Kyle nods and heads out the room leaving Simon alone. He sighs letting himself have a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. He can do this, he can help John get his head straight. He needs to be calm and cool, it’s not going to be easy. 

When Kyle comes back he leaves to go to John’s room. It’s not just John’s room though, it’s your room too. There’s always a lingering smell of you around this side of the building. He squeezes his eyes closed for a second, before he knocks he decides to pull his mask off. Putting it in his back pocket. He knocks, and listens to John coming over to the door. When it opens, Simon looks into the room, it’s dark, the curtains are drawn closed. 

The door to the bathroom is swung open and the light is on, it’s the only light in the room. He can smell the alcohol, John has tried to cover it up with aftershave or whatever else he can find, but Simon can still smell it out, it makes his stomach turn. 

“I know I haven’t been down to see her.” Simon can hear the slur in his voice even though he’s trying to hide it. He moves to the side and Simon walks in closing the door behind him. John’s looking around for something but Simon’s not sure what. Eventually he turns back, heading for the door.

Simon holds his ground blocking the exit. 

“C'mon. I want to go see her. It’s my turn anyway.” John says frowning at Simon who just crosses his arms. John seems to get the hint, relaxing his face and tipping his head to the side. 

“I’m fine Simon.” John says, there’s authority in his voice. Simon doesn’t say anything, keeping his body as a barrier between the door and John. He can see the irritation build in his face, the way he clenches his jaw. Maybe he won’t go down without a fight. Simon doesn't want to hurt him, but he’s not going to let him embarrass himself. 

“Move.” John says, this time it’s an order, an order Simon will refuse. John lets out a scoff and takes a step towards the door. Simon moves enough to block him, their chests pressed up against each other. Simon can smell the mint on his breath mixed with the woody smell of whisky. 

At least he’s trying to hide it. 

“Get some rest, you can see her tomorrow. Gaz is with her.” Simon says filling his voice with authority, this isn’t a request it's a demand. It’s not often he speaks to John like this he wagers it’s only ever happened once or twice. Usually when he’s sick and refuses to stop, Simon has to snap at him to get him to rest. 

“I’m going to see her.” John scoffs, he presses his chest against Simon who just sighs in response, holding his ground. 

“There's no way you’re going anywhere near her.” Simon says keeping a steady tone. He can smell John’s alpha filling the air now, and anger. It’s a welcome respite from the smell of liquor. 

“You can't stop me!” John snaps back taking a step away from Simon. 

“I’ll Lock you in here and throw away the key if I have to.” Simon snaps back. John growls at him and pushes Simon away. It's weak and almost pathetic, he takes another step away turning, Simon follows close behind him, he needs to keep him at arm's length incase he tries something. 

“I'm your captain!” John slurs, he’s not trying to keep his voice steady now. 

“Then start acting like a fucking Captain!” Simon snaps. John turns, there’s anger on his face, he can smell it in the air. 

John grunts as he steps up and takes a swing at him. It surprises Simon but he's still quick enough to dodge it. He’s not in the mood for a fight when John swings again he grabs his arm, twisting it behind his back and pressing him against the wall. 

“Fuck, you couldn’t lead a duck to water with the state you’re in.” Simon says in his ear.

“Let me go! That's an order!” John shouts trying to fight Simon’s grip.

“No!” Simon shouts, his alpha on full display. It makes John tense under him. “You’re drunk, you’re in no state to be doing anything let alone commanding your unit.” John huffs seemingly relenting for a second, Simon loosens his grip ever so slightly. 

“I know you’re mad. I know you’re blaming yourself but you’re no use to anyone right now.” Simon says through gritted teeth. “Not me, or Kyle, or the omega, no one.” John lets out a noise that Simon can only think sounds like a sob. He lets his grip on John go completely. John turns, hanging his head and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I let her down again.” John says, there’s a calmness to his voice now. He goes over to the bed still rubbing his neck. Simon keeps quiet letting him talk. 

“She got hurt again. She could have died.” He lets out a sigh sitting down on the bed and running his hands over his face. Simon can’t let him spiral. 

“You did what you thought was best.” Simon says, taking a step over to him. 

“What I thought was best wasn’t good enough.” 

“You made the decisions based on the intel you had. It’s not your fault there was a mole, it’s not your fault Hale is alive.” 

“I should have kept her closer. I should have kept her safe.” John says, there’s definitely sadness in his words. The smell of mint fills the room. Simon walks over to him resting his hand on his shoulder. 

“You could wrap her in bubble wrap and lock her in a room and she could still get hurt. Besides, she needs her freedom, she’s used to being in cages all her life.” Simon’s trying to sound reassuring but he’s not sure if it’s helping or not. His hand leaves his shoulder and runs up his neck to his cheek. 

John looks up at him, he can feel the unkempt beard under his fingers. “What do you need John?” Simon asks, looking down at the glisten in John’s eyes, the smell of mint starts to fade, being replaced with the mellow scent of alpha. 

You always said it smells like the ground after rain. To Simon it always smelt like moss, damp wood. It reminds him of the countless trips he’d taken with Johnny up to Scotland. His hand brushes John’s beard, he needs a trim. 

“I just- I need- I.” John stutters, not being able to finish the sentence. Simon sighs. He knows what he needs, he bends down pressing his lips to John’s. Simon kisses him rough, he presses his tongue deep into his mouth. He can taste the alcohol, he sighs, pulling away. John’s hands start to run up Simon’s top. 

“Need someone else to take control, huh?” Simon asks, pressing his face into John's neck. He projects his scent into the room, if not just to get rid of the lingering scent of alcohol. John’s fingers brush Simon’s nipples. Simon grip’s his arms, pressing him down on the bed. He uses his feet to spread his legs apart slightly gripping the waistband of John’s trousers and underwear and pulls them down. 

John lets out a long breath. Simon can already see John’s cock half hard, twitching to life. Simon reaches out gripping it and pressing his thumb into the underside and running his hand up. His thumb brushes over the tip and smears the bead of precum over the already hot head. He removes his hand running it up John’s top as he leans over pressing his mouth next to John’s ear. 

“It’s okay John. I’m in charge now.” John’s breathing picks up as the room starts to fill with the scent of vanilla and leather. Price leans further back on the bed spreading his legs so Simon can stand between him. He chuckles, moving his hand to pump his cock again, John just moans pressing his head deeper into the bedding.

“Look at you all desperate and needy.” Simon growls in his ear nipping at his earlobe.

“Yes, yes.” Price says breathlessly. Simon hums, pulling his fingers up to Price's mouth and pressing them past his lips. John hums around them wetting Simon’s thick digits with his tongue. It makes Simon’s cock twitch in his pants, feeling John desperately trying to suck him in deeper. 

Simon relents, pulling them out and quickly reaching down to pressing two soaked fingers inside him. John moans gripping the bedding arching his back. 

“This is what you need right?” Simon asks, moving a hand up to grip his hair, curling his fingers in John’s arse with the other. Simon can feel John’s body react to him, he thrusts his fingers deeper, pressing up against the spot he knows makes John melt up against him. 

“Simon,” John moans, wiggling his hips closer to Simon.“Please.” 

“Please what?” Simon asks, speeding up his thrusts.

“Please lieutenant.” John breathes, it goes straight to his cock making his twitch in his pants. He’s going to need to get them off soon, reaching down to palm himself through the fabric while his hand slaps against John’s skin. 

Simon remembers the first time he fucked John like this. John had just got captain. Simon was still a sergeant, they were deep in enemy territory the mission went well. It was the extraction where it all went wrong. In the end only 4 of the 10 men who went in made it out alive, including Simon and John. 

John tried to keep going, jobs go wrong all the time, this was his first gig as a captain though. Simon saw how much it ruined his confidence, he hid it well enough in public but behind closed doors, in the dead of night when no one but Simon and John were around the guilt coming off him was palpable. 

Thats when Simon dragged him back to his quarters and took his power away, fucked him until there was nothing left in his head but what was happening in the moment, and the only words coming out his mouth where his pleas to cum. 

That's what he needs right now, someone he can give up control to even if it’s just for a little while. Maybe it’s the vulnerability, maybe it's the switch in power dynamics. Simon doesn’t care, He’ll do whatever his captain needs and then some. 

Simon looks down at John, his eyes squeezed closed, his cock twitching on his stomach. He wants to get him naked, he needs to be inside him. The smell of vanilla and leather is making his head spin. When he pulls his fingers out John he moans, his head snapping up to look at him. Simon just smiles as he reaches down, pulling his shirt over his head and stepping out his boots. 

John props himself up pulling his shirt off too, his eyes wander down to Simon’s hands undoing his belt and letting his pants fall to the floor. Simon strokes himself letting his hand cup the head of his cock smearing precum in his hand. 

Simon walks back between John’s legs, hooking his arms under his knees and pulling him to the edge of the bed. Their cocks are resting next to each other. 

“So pretty for me.” Simon says, his voice low rumbling in John’s ears. Simon reaches down, taking them both in one hand, thrusting his hand up and down, John moans arching his back again. He tries to reach down to Simon’s hand but he just swats him away, tutting and squeezing their cocks a little tighter. 

Simon keeps pumping their cocks letting John’s sweet moans go straight to his head until he can’t stand it any longer. He backs up, lining himself up with John’s hole.

“John.” Simon says, looking down at him, running one of his hands up John’s body. He cups his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “I’ve got you. Relax John. I got you.” 

John finally relents and Simon hums pressing into him. For a second he think’s John’s going to cum just like that. He’s being more vocal now, crying out as Simon slowly starts to buck his hips. It’s almost painfully slow even for Simon. 

“Si-” His name catches in his throat, Simon smiles reaching down to pump John’s cock in time with his thrusts.

“That’s it,” Simon says, pressing his thumb over the tip of John's cock. Simon feels him twitch under his hand, he moans with John speeding up his hips. John is tight around him, it almost feels like he’s trying to suck him in. 

“Nice and easy.” Simon says slowing his thrusts, his cock twitches inside. His strokes become longer trying to hit deeper and deeper into John’s ass. John’s starting to get restless now, shifting around in the bed, arching his back. 

Simon reaches over and presses down on John's stomach. John grips the bedding in his fists like he’s holding on for dear life.  

“You close?” Simon asks, John murmurs something incoherent. Simon stops inside him, John whines his head snapping up to look at Simon who just smiles down at him. 

“Words, John.” Simon says, leaning over resting his face a few centimetres from John. “If you don’t tell me, how will I know when to give you permission to cum?” Simon twitches his cock planting a quick kiss on John’s lips before standing back up. He slowly starts to buck his hips again reaching down to pick up John’s twitching cock in his hands.

He can feel how close he is, maybe he needs to ride it out a little longer though. Simon starts slow, watching John’s movements, the ways his hands run over the bedding digging his fingers into the sheets when he can’t take it. His breathing is short and rapid, the whole room is filled with the smell of vanilla and leather. 

“Fuck.” John says as he grits his teeth, his thighs tighten around Simon. “Si- Please.”

“Please what?” Simon asks, now he can barely keep it together, John's whimpers going straight to his head. 

“Please lieutenant-” John’s words are cut off by a moan as Simon speeds up his thrusts. “-Can I cum?” 

“Oh, fuck.” Simon says through gritted teeth, that was almost too close for him. He lets out a breath gripping John’s hips. 

“Cum.” He demands, John cries out, babbling thank you’s as he throws an arm over his head and arches his back. A few more thrusts of his cock and John cums, thick ropes shooting over his chest. Simon grunts, John clenches round him as he cums too, slowing his thrusts as he pulses inside him. 

Simon looks down at John, the arm still thrown over his head as he’s sucking in breaths of air. John finally relaxes after a few seconds and releases his grip on Simon who sighs, pulling out then bending over to press his nose against John’s. 

“How’s that head of yours now?” Simon asks, pressing a kiss on his lips. “Or do I need to order you around some more?” John moves his arm so he can see Simon. They look at each other for a few seconds before Simon’s hand travels down John’s stomach, his fingers becoming coated in John’s spend. 

John smiles. “What do you think, lieutenant.”

…

Price lays back in the tub one arm hanging out the bath while Simon sits on the outside cupping John’s face. He feels round the edge of his unkempt beard. John uses an old school straight razor, it’s engraved. John always tells people it’s from his father but Simon knows it was a gift from Nikoli. 

He squirts shaving foam onto his fingers watching it puff up before whipping it on John’s chin. Simon reaches down into the water to wet the blade before bringing it up to John’s chin. He’d been silent since Simon encouraged him to move to the bath in the first place. 

Their hot sticky bodies could only spend so long pressed together. Simon would have been happy to spend the night with John in his arms, his head pressed into the pillow you slept on. Your lingering scent of strawberries calming them both. 

“I’m sorry,” John says eventually as Simon pulls his chin up. 

“Not me you need to be sorry to.” He says as he drags the blade across the skin. 

“No.” He replies quietly. Simon’s hand is steady, his eyes avoiding John’s gaze as he looks round his face. Simon focuses his work as John’s fingers come out of the water to touch the wound on the side of his neck. It’s mostly healed now but Piper said it could take a few weeks for the scars to fade completely. 

“It’s fine John. She didn’t know what she was doing.” Simon says looking in his eyes. John sighs and drops his hand back into the water. 

“William’s has a place for Piper and Fleur to continue their research. Underground, secure.” 

“She’ll be right at home then.” Simon relies. Before reaching down to clean the blade in the water. 

“What about us?” Simon asks, John meets his eyeline for a second. 

“Thought we could go back to Scotland. She liked it there.” Simon hums, pulling John’s head to the other side. 

“What about you?” Simon asks. 

John scoffs, of course he figured it out. “Laswell has a lead in America.” 

“You’re not going alone.”

“Yes-”

"No. You’re not going alone.” Simon says, pulling the blade away from his face so he can look in John’s eyes. “This isn’t a vengeance mission. You don’t get to kill yourself for this, John.” 

“You going to stop me?”

“I’m coming with you.” Simon says going back to shave his face. Price’s hand jumps out the water grabbing his wrist. 

“She needs an alpha here.” John says.  

“She needs you.” Simon says. He doesn’t get to feel guilty about this, he doesn’t get to fall into that hole. He needs to get his head focused. For your sake. 

“I’m doing this for her. She’ll understand.” 

“You’re doing this for you. Don’t bring her into this.” Simon says, pulling his head back to the side. There’s silence between them for a few moments. Maybe Simon had gone too far, but better to snap at him now then let him leave and get himself hurt.

“I could take Kyle-” 

“Christ Price.” Simon tuts dropping his hand. He knows he can’t convince him not to go, especially if Laswell has a lead. But he can make sure that he doesn’t get himself killed. Of course Kyle could go instead, leaving Simon behind so there’s an alpha around but Kyle won’t challenge him the way Ghost-the way Simon will. 

Simon plunges the blade back into the water, swilling it around until it's clean.

“We’d follow you into fire, you know that right?” Simon asks him, John's eyes look up but he keeps his head still as Simon smears more foam onto the other side of his face. “We have followed you to war. Even if we didn’t think we would make it back.” Simon sighs, pulling the blade away from John’s face. 

“You’re more than just our captain, you're more than just a friend, a partner. There isn’t a day that goes by where I wouldn’t be willing to lay my life down for yours, or Kyle, or Johnny. And I know they would do the same. So you don’t get to do the whole solo revenge quest. You’re too bloody important, too loved.” 

“You’re getting soft Simon.” John smiles, a proper smile. It makes Simon’s heart melt, he knows he's back now.

“Johnny’s a bad influence.” Simon replies, turning John’s head away to finish shaving the other side. When the smiles fade Simon lets out a sigh. 

“Think she’ll forgive me?” John asks. Simon scoffs. 

“Will you forgive yourself?” 

“When Hale’s dead.” John says with bitterness in his voice. Simon sighs, swilling the blade in the water for the last time. He folds it up and moves to put it away. Simon hears John get out the water as he packs everything away. 

A few seconds later he feels a hand come around his waist. John kisses Simon’s neck just above where you bit into his flesh. It sends shivers down Simon’s spine, he remembers the pain of you sinking your teeth into his neck. Simon looks at him through the mirror. 

“Get some rest. I’ll come get you tomorrow, first thing.” Simon says. John nods and heads back into the bedroom. Simon lingers a second longer turning his body to look at the wound on his neck. It reminds him of the bitemarks you have from him and John. 

They both claimed you, you’re their omega. More importantly they’re a pack. John wants to kill Hale for you, so you’ll be safe and never have to worry again. You deserve that closure at the very least. Simon will do it for the pack. So they never have to run again, so they can be safe and happy together. 

He lets out a sigh and goes back into the bedroom, John is already changed and Simon walks round the room looking for his clothes. He pulls them on, sitting on the end of the bed to put his boots on. 

“Thank you Simon.” John says as he sits on the bed too. Simon turns to look at him once he’s finished. He reaches over, pressing a kiss on his lips before getting up. 

“Any time sir.” 

The next morning John’s head is clearer than it’s been in days. He wakes before the sun, changing and heading straight down to the medical room. Everyone’s doors are closed and he could see soldiers walking around outside the building. 

At some point he needs to talk to Piper and Fleur about them moving to the new place and make plans for the rest of them to go back to Scotland. Before going in he sticks his head round the corner of the lab, it’s empty they must still be sleeping. 

He walks into the room, Kyle is asleep in the chair next to your bed. It’s been almost 48 hours since John saw you. You don’t seem as restless, the colour is still drained from your face but the layer of sheen has left your body. 

John walks over placing his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. He jolts awake looking over at you then up at John stretching. 

"What time is it?” He asks, sleepy looking at his watch. 

“Early, go get some rest.” John says, squeezing his shoulder. Kyle doesn’t argue, nodding and taking one last look at you before getting up to leave. John sits down in his place reaching over to grip your hand. His thumb brushes the back of your hand, he brings it up and kisses your soft skin. 

He’s not sure what to do, you smell different today, good different though. The smell of mint is not as strong, you smell sweet, tired, John can’t quite put a name on it. 

“Oh sorry John, I thought Kyle was going to be here.” Piper says as she comes into the room. John smiles at her. She moves over to you, disconnecting an empty bag and moving it away. John looks at the tube coming out of your nose and it makes a shiver run down his spine. 

“Is she getting better?” John asks. Piper lets out a sigh and John hears a trash bin open and close. 

“She’s not sedated anymore, she’s been less restless lately. I think she’s stable enough to move into your bed.” Piper says. 

“Is that a good idea?” John asks.

“It is, being around you will help her recover quicker. She can sense when you’re around, she needs an alpha around her to help keep her grounded.” Piper smiles. John looks over at you rubbing the back of your hand, he laces his fingers with yours squeezing your hand tight. He almost wants to call out to you, grab your face and order you to wake. 

“When can we move her?” John asks, looking over at Piper. She smiles, putting down whatever she’s looking at. 

“Let me check her over then we can go.” She smiles back. 

Piper seems excited, she checks you over quickly, when she pulls the bedding back John can see how different you look. There are wires and tubes all over you. 

“She has a catheter in. I’ll follow behind you.” Piper says as she pulls the wires off your chest. It makes the monitor by your head screech which causes you to shuffle. Piper reaches over to turn it off. 

“She’ll be able to hear you although I don’t know how much she’ll remember. What's important is she can hear you, she’ll know you’re there.” 

“What if she doesn’t want me to be there?” John says. Piper's hand lands on his shoulder and she squeezes. 

“She wants you to be there. She will forgive you, she loves you.” Piper smiles at him and he smiles back. John gently scoops you up in his arms, you feel like a lead weight, your head flopping against his chest. Piper comes over to rest it more on his shoulder. You whine it’s incoherent but you’re reacting to being moved around which has to be a good thing. 

They move slowly with Piper walking behind him carrying the equipment you’re still connected to. When John makes it to the steps Johnny is coming down. He makes it to the bottom and he stops looking over at you. You’ve stopped mumbling but when Johnny reaches over to stroke your face you turn towards his touch. 

“She’s cold.” He says. He’s right you are cold, a few days ago you were warm, your body was sweating. Now you’re like ice, but you’re not shivering, you seem fine. 

“Her temperature will fluctuate but she’s doing better.” Piper says. Johnny turns to her and nods. 

“Better get her in a warm bed then cap.” Johnny says, patting John on the shoulder and heading over to the dining room. John smiles looking down at you, your head is tipped back against his chest. John nods and heads up the stairs gripping you tighter with each step. 

When they make it to John’s room Piper dances around him pulling the bedding back trying not to get the tubes tied. John places you down in the bed. You don’t move this time as he pulls the duvet over you and fluffs the pillows. He steps back as Piper hooks bags over parts of the bed. 

“What now?” he asks. She turns and smiles at him. 

“Wait. There’s not much we can do.” Piper says, she looks back at you. “You should lay with her, just hold her, it'll help, both of you I think.” 

As soon as Piper is gone John scoots into bed next to you pulling you into his arms and holding you close. He can feel your hot breath on his chest, you’re cold but he can feel you warming up as he runs his fingers through your hair.  

“I’m sorry I let you down, I’m sorry I let you get hurt.” He feels a lump rise in his throat as he looks down at your face. You look so peaceful in his arms, you haven’t moved but he doesn’t care, it feels like it’s been too long since he held you properly. He presses his lips on your forehead, letting them linger, he just wants you to wake up. 

“I’m going to get him. I promise you I’m going to put him in the ground for everything he’s done.” John says, pressing his nose against yours. He pulls you against his chest and rests his forehead on the top of your head. He closes his eyes letting out a sigh. 

“I’m never going to let you down again.” John breathes squeezing you tight one more time. “Never again, love.” 

He’s breathing you in, letting himself bask in your scent. You smell of strawberries, strawberries and cream. He doesn’t mean to start dozing off but he does. His eyes start to feel heavy as he listens to your steady breathing. 

…

John's eyes open as he hears someone shuffle into the bed behind him. He turns slightly to see Kyle press himself up against his back reaching over to stroke your arm. Kyle's face nuzzles into John’s neck.

“I needed to see her.” Kyle says. John smiles pressing himself closer to you, your head still propped up on his chest. He reaches over to feel Kyle, his fingers pushing under his shirt and resting on his hip.

“I’m sorry Kyle.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for. We all have bad days.” Kyle says, pressing a kiss in John’s neck. 

“You’re too forgiving.” John chuckles. It makes you move in his arms and he looks down to see your eyes still closed. 

“It’s been 5 days.” 

“5 days? I slept for a whole day?” 

“Yeah, Piper said not to disturb you, she said you needed the rest.” 

“I have so much to do, you should have woke me.” John says, all of a sudden he can feel the stiffness though his body. 

“Simon’s been taking care of it.” Kyle says, John lets out a long breath. It strangely feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knows it should be him dealing with everything but he doesn’t want to leave your side. Not even for a second. 

“Tell him I said thank you.” John says, he can feel himself getting sleepy again. Maybe that’s normal, maybe that's something normal but Piper forgot to mention it. Or maybe last time you were in distress you had no one who loved you. 

You didn’t have an alpha you could rely on, a pack to support you. Now you do, on top of that you have people around you who love you, who care about you. Kyle hums shuffling closer behind John. 

“She’s going to be okay, Kyle.” John says, pressing his lips against the top of your head. 

“I know, she has us.” Kyle says, his breath hot on John’s neck. “You should keep resting.” 

John doesn’t try to fight his words, letting sleep drag him back under. 

There's light, for the first time in the infinite darkness there's light. 

It's warm and inviting, the kind of light that bursts through the trees on an evening. It reminds you of your walks with John, the ones in America and the ones in Scotland. You miss Scotland, you wish you were there instead of this cold sterile building. 

You move towards the light and it feels like it's enveloping you in its warmth, you can smell alpha. You can hear a soft voice. 

“I’m never going to let you down again.” It’s John, you can hear him. It makes tears form in your eyes. You try to call out for him but nothing happens. You don’t care that you’re mad at him or that he lied to you. You just want to be back with him. Back in his arms with him holding you tight and telling you how much he loves you. 

“I love you.” It’s John again. You want to be with him, the light starts to get brighter almost blinding you. You feel warmth all through your body as you close your eyes. Letting yourself be enveloped by the heat and the sound of John’s voice in your ear. 

You should be mad at him but you don’t feel mad. You feel safe, hearing his voice imagining yourself wrapped in his arms with his scent filling your nose. It’s all you want, it's all you ever want. 

…

You wake wrapped in John’s arms.

“John?” You call, your throat is raw, your body is stiff. His arms automatically pull you closer. He presses a kiss on your forehead as you slowly open your eyes.

“I’m here love. I’ve got you.” His voice is low, reassuring, his touch is gentle. He is here, he is real. You can feel his hands on you, rubbing you, his fingers are soft but grounding. This is real, you’re here in his arms.

“Why did you lie?” You ask.

“There’s no excuse. I should have told you. I’m so sorry.” 

You believe him, you shuffle closer to him pressing your nose into his neck and breathing him in. The ground after rain. It reminds you of the walks you used to take.

“John. I want to go back to scotland.” You say, your throat is dry and your head is spinning. 

He smiles. “Yeah, I think that's a good idea.” 

Hale sit’s behind his new mahogany desk. It’s not the same as his old one but it’s better than nothing. Shadow company has been able to round up some of the old beta scientists. Parts of the bunker still need work but most of it is usable. 

He’s had everyone working to get the labs back up and running and functional for the omegas return. He opens the drawer pulling out his cigar case, he opens it to see one more left. This and a few pictures were the only things that survived the roof collapsing in. He clips the cigar putting it in his mouth, he pulls out a box of matches and lights the end.  

He leans back in his new chair and reaches into the drawer to pull out the stack of photos. Some of them are water damaged but they're still in alright condition. He looks through them, keeping the cigar in his mouth. He inhales the sweet tobacco letting it warm his lungs and calm him. 

He stops at one of the pictures, it’s you in heat, your cheeks flushed and red, your lips puffy and shining in the light. Your hands are clawing at your clothes, sweat seeping through your shirt. He remembers that heat, it was one of your more regular ones. 

He remembers all of them, each time they tried different things with you, he remembers them all. This was a normal heat, he was with you for most of it. Each heat he wanted to claim you and each time he avoided it. Now he regrets it, he should have done it when you had your first heat. 

You’re his, you’ll always be his. And now he’s in a position to get you back. The bunker is back, his scientists are back and Graves is dealing with Piper. Now all he needs is you. 

There’s a knock at the door. He quickly puts the photos back in the drawer and looks over at Graves standing in the doorway. 

“Come in.” Hale says, taking the cigar out his mouth and standing up. Graves walks in, he seems nervous about something. Hale lets out a long breath as Graves walks over to the desk. 

“One of my moles was sniffed out.” Graves says. 

“And the other?” 

“Laying low for now.” 

“What about Dr. Montgomery and the omega?” Hale asks, sucking in a lungful of smoke.

“Dr. Montgomery survived the attempt. The omega- I don’t quite understand-she had a panic attack or something.” Graves says. Hale's heart sinks, he sits down in his chair. 

“Did you hear anything about distressing?” Hale asks, looking up at Graves. He waits for a second before answering.

“Yes.” The single response makes his stomach drop, he swallows the lump in his throat. You’re in distress, you could die. For a few seconds he’s happy Dr. Montgomery is still alive, she’ll be able to take care of you and make sure you don’t die. 

“We need to get the omega out.” Hale says. “The time for subtly is done. I need her before she can get the cure.” 

“It’s risky. It will probably result in the death of many people. Including the omega.” Graves says, raising an eyebrow. “I want you to be aware of that. You could be putting the omega’s life at risk.” 

“It’s worth the risk to get her back.” Hale says, taking another drag of his cigar. “She’s worth the risk and I want her back. No matter what, I want her back.”

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui

[naptimepng]

bathtub

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader 

Rating: Explicit 

Word Count: 2.9k 

Warnings/Tags: domestic, soft price, pasta.

Minors: Do Not Interact – 18+ ONLY 

Cont. Warnings/Tags: romantic sex, bathtub sex, everything gets wet, super light choking, vaginal fingering, 2 spanks, breast play, handjob, size kink?, john ‘big dick’ price, creampie, light overstim, aftercare, pasta as a love language

Summary: You think his bathtub is made for sex. That he’d ordered it especially to fuck you in the moment he pressed his spare keys into your palm.

A/N: i love p² (pasta and price)

You think his bathtub is made for sex. That he’d ordered it especially to fuck you in the moment he pressed his spare keys into your palm. It’s gorgeous; glimmering marble, thick rims for you to grip onto, and a deep, wide bowl. The marble is cool under your palms, soothing your hot skin as John presses you up against the edge, his hand cushioning your head as he kisses you, hitches your thighs around his waist. The underside of his cock slides against your sex as he saws his hips, the head bumping your clit and making you moan into his mouth. 

You press your palms against his chest, flat against the soft pudge of his belly, and feel the shift of his muscles there as he leans back, bringing you with him. His hand hooks around your elbow, his hungry mouth refusing to leave yours. 

You think this must be what he feels when he smokes. The thick, heady scent of it in your lungs, the taste of him sticking to your tongue, clinging to your mouth. Smoke and wine and the rich tomato sauce of the pasta left abandoned on the stove. 

***

He’d watched you amusedly as you snuck a taste from the pan, his mouth twitching under his dark beard, nostrils flaring when you licked the fork clean. Humming your appreciation as he watched the path of your tongue, inhaling sharply when you winked at him, a teasing smile on your lips. 

He turned your face to him then, a hand around your jaw, and you let him kiss you. Felt his tongue licking into your mouth, swirling around yours like the pasta around your fork. Tasting behind your teeth. His teeth closing around the fat of your lower lip as you moaned. Leaning your head back, exposing your neck to him. 

He rested his hand on your chest, thumb dipping into the hollow of your throat, and pulled back slightly. Your mouths still connected by a thin string of spit as your hand covered his, moving it up to circle your throat as you leaned into him, tipping into your toes. 

He exhaled hard and sharp, his eyes going molten as he dropped the spatula, tugged his apron over his head, reaching behind you to turn off the stove before surging forward to kiss you again. Pressing you back against the island, his hands holding your face to his, mumbling, “Upstairs, m’love, c’mon.” 

It was a struggle stumbling up the stairs, stopping at the top to let him suck a mark into your neck, his beard soft under your palms as you guided him to your mouth again, panting. He chuckled darkly, the smug bastard, nipping at your shoulder before gathering your t-shirt and tugging it over your head. His hands were on you immediately, squeezing your breasts, thumbing your nipples before moving down your torso, hooking his fingers under the elastic of your sleep shorts and your panties to push them down your legs. Fitting his fingers between them as he crowded you up against the bathroom door, his thigh between yours, holding you open for him to stroke you. His thick fingers slipping over your clit with how slick you were already. When he kissed you again, humming pleased at the low moan he knocked from you with a calculated crook of his fingers, you pulled back, giggling and dizzy, despite his murmured protest. 

Your fingers curled around the hair at the back of his head, longer now that he’s been on leave - long enough for you to pull. You tugged gently to get him to look at you, his eyes clearing as he watched your mouth move, “Lemme run a bath, John. Get the water all nice and warm while you put the pasta away, yeah?” 

He rolled his eyes, playing at reluctance. But you both knew how comfortable he is now to submit to you, no longer hesitant to be playfully pushed around, to take his orders from someone else. He clicked his tongue with a cheeky grin, but left you with another brief kiss and his palm smacking lightly against your bare behind. 

***

John watches you now from the doorway, leaning against it, his thick arms crossed over his chest. His chin dipped as his eyes track your movement around the bathroom. Watching quietly as you tug off your socks, pull your hair from its messy braid, let it fall over your eyes with an audibly relieved sigh. He makes himself known with a deliberately loud clearing of his throat. Stepping into your space to take the towels from you, hanging them over the radiator and huffing out a laugh when you follow him. Pressing your nose between his shoulder blades as your fingers flirt with the bottom of his Henley, slipping under it to drag your nails down the dark trail of hair there, smiling at the long shiver that rolls through him. 

He tugs it over his head and shoves his boxers down, his cock already bobbing against his tummy as he follows you into the bath. Humming at the hot water, drawing you to him with his hands around your hips. Settling your legs either side of his waist, and letting you rest your weight on his strong thighs. 

He’s magnetic, pulling you into his orbit with the inherent sensuality that feels burnt into his atoms. He watches you with parted lips, his eyes hooded and dark, hands full of you as he squeezes everywhere he can reach, your hips, ass, the fat of your thighs. He skates his nails down the line of your spine, and you arch into him. Offering him your breasts to him on a silver platter as you whine his name. His chest rumbles on a groan under your hands as he leans forward and licks the plate clean. His face pressed to your chest, his cheek against your heart as he licks and suckles at the peaks of your breasts. Dark lashes fanning across his ruddy cheeks, gone flushed with the heat in the room and his blooming arousal. His teeth drag lightly, teasingly, across your tight nipples, the scrape like a knife against your wet skin and it makes you shiver. 

Your skin prickles with heat when John drags his mouth down your throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He noses under your ear, licks the skin there, reminding himself of the flavour of your sweat, and groans. 

His thighs part yours as he pulls you closer, his palm resting on the small of your back. You drag your nails down his chest, watching it expand on his shaky inhale as your hand nudges his cock. Your fingers curl around the thick of him, squeezing lightly. He pulses in your palm, hot and hard and slick as you stroke him up and down. Twisting your wrist the way he likes, squeezing a little at the base. His head lolls, tipping back as he groans, deep and long. Eyes fluttering closed, dark brow pinching as he rolls his spit-slick lip between his teeth. 

You brush your thumb under the head of his cock, feeling his hips jump even under your weight as his mouth falls open and you lean forward to kiss it. Swallowing his rumbling moan as you rub his cock over your opening and sink down. Inhaling sharply at the thick press of him, splitting you open. It’s been years but he still feels your shoulders tighten when you’re halfway, a pained noise notching high in your throat; needy and wet as you are, but still struggling a little to take him. So he reaches between your legs, his big, warm hand petting you, feeling around where he is stretching you open. He strokes at the peak of your sex, holding your hand as he murmurs soft sounds into your temple, the pads of his fingers sliding against your cunt, where you are swollen and slick and petal-soft. 

After a moment of letting him gently coax you open, you mouth at his neck, sucking lightly where his skin is gleaming with sweat and steam, rocking forward to take him an inch deeper, then all the way. Hearing his gentle reassurances that you can take it love ive got ya catch in his throat as his cock is swallowed into the tight clutch of your cunt. He shudders under your hands where they rest on his heaving chest, holding him still for a moment before he exhales a low, warning murmur of your name. Kissing quickly at your cheek before he moves his hands to hold your waist. 

His fingers grip your hips, the flesh dimpling under his nails as he lifts you before grinding you down, his cock brushing up against something that has your back arching, and knocks a high-pitched, desperate sob of his name from your lungs. He repeats the movement, fucking you down on his dick, thrusting up into you when you come down, thighs slapping against his under the water. 

Water is sloshing over the sides of the tub, soaking the mat but you don’t care. Can’t focus outside of the hot press of him inside you, his hair between your fingers, his blue eyes gone hot and molten and burning with need as he stares up at you, mouth parted, cataloguing the expressions of your gorgeous face as he fucks up into you. 

His hand leaves your hip, moving behind you to grasp the fat of your ass, exposing your cunt to the cool air. He cracks his palm against it before gripping the muscle tight, blunt nails biting into your hot skin. He grunts when your muscles clamp down around him, his teeth flashing white against the dark of his beard as he grins up at you. 

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps. “You like that, baby? Like when I get my hands all fucking full of you?” 

“Uh huh,” you moan. “Love it, John, fuck - feels so good, m’love.”

He kisses you then, overcome with a surge of affection, teeth nipping at your lip before he sucks on your tongue, his mouth hot and wet against yours. His arm hooks around your waist, clutching you to him in a needy grip, pressing you close enough that he can feel the rapidfire beat of your heart against his chest. He slips his hand between your legs, his fingers sliding over your clit, rubbing in quick, tight circles, precise and determined as he glances up at you, his eyes on your face. Humming at your gasp, the light pinch of your nails into his skin as you press your mouth to his, panting, moaning every time your hips meet. 

“John, fuck - fuck - I’m gonna cum, baby, I’m so close, can I - shit - can I c-cum? Please, please,” you’re begging him, incoherent, needy, out of your mind as you whimper into his mouth. 

It makes his blood go hot - all the air rush from his lungs as he groans, his accent gone dark and thick, “Yeah, baby - you can cum f’me, love, I got ya. Doin’ so good f’me, fuck, tha’s it.” 

His praise melts warm and liquid in your belly, making your eyes half-close as he fucks you, your orgasm beginning to spark along your spine, bursting at a particularly cruel thrust, the head of his cock knocking up against your womb. Your lungs tremble at the gasp you suck in, threatening to burst before his cock punches a cry from you, your hands clamping tight around his strong arms to ground yourself as your legs shake with the force of your orgasm, digging into his waist. 

Your nails dig into his biceps when you cum, carving little crescent moons into old scars, the pain making heat lick up his spine. He moans from the back of his throat, mouth half-closed as he focuses on the rhythm of his hips, huffing out little groans from his nose when he bottoms out. He watches your face relax as you come down, curling your arms over his shoulders, pressing your brow to his, and letting him use you. He holds your cheeks apart as he pistons his hips, hunting his orgasm with bared teeth. 

“Shit, yes - oh god - fuckin’ hell, I’m close, baby. I’m - oh, fuck yeah, tha’s good,” he grits, panting when your lower muscles bear down on him, fluttering with the last trembles of your orgasm. He sounds wounded as he gasps into your mouth, the same sound that is knocked from him with the force of a bullet, “‘M close, love - gonna - fuck, gonna fill you up, baby. Fuck my cum into this perfect little cunt, shit—” 

You swallow his bitten off moan, wet hands cupping his cheeks, tilting his head up for you to kiss him as he grunts, shoving his cock deep as it spits hot and messy inside you. You feel the shudder that rolls through him as he exhales long and slow, his head falling forward to rest on your chest. Feeling the warm push of balmy air against your skin as he pants. 

“Mm, fuck… love you,” he murmurs, breathless and warm as he chuckles at your noncommittal hum. Your fingers move slowly at the base of his neck, curling into his hair where it’s gone damp with sweat, scratching lightly at his scalp. He hums, kisses your cheek quickly, and mutters a quiet heads-up to you before gently lifting you for his cock to slip out, inhaling at the hot dribble of his cum down your thighs. He soothes your soft whine with a placating kiss, moving you to rest your back against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart radiating through his ribs. 

The water has gone lukewarm as it laps gently at the side of the tub. You dip your hand into it, watching the slow drip and subsequent ripples that spread from your suspended fingers. John huffs lightly behind you, smoothing his palm over your front, cupping your breast before you laugh quietly and shove his hand to rest over your tummy. You wiggle your hips to shift backwards, pressing closer to him before settling against him with a sigh. Turning to watch the tips of your hair floating in the rippling water. 

John hums, a low, satisfied sound. He bends his knees to accommodate your legs between his, his chin on top of your head. He palms at the crown of your head, brushing a kiss there as his other hand smooths over the warm skin of your stomach. Dipping down to your mons and teasing lower as he flexes his fingers. 

Your hand curls around the thick of his wrist, guiding him lower to where you want his fingers. Encouraging him in your actions; tipping your head back to moan softly into his ear, lifting your hips for him, spreading your thighs a little wider. 

He draws you to another orgasm there, this one softer, gentler, as it rocks through you. John guides you through it, breathing long and slow against the back of your neck, peppering kisses there between soft praise and endearments, holding you as you shudder against his chest. Your chin tilts up to meet his mouth as he drinks in your moans, murmuring encouragingly to you as he flexes his wrist. Curling his fingers deeper before you’re whining and pushing at his arm, the pleasure tipping into a warm, achy sort of pain. 

John hums, pleased, and sucks his fingers into his mouth with a wet noise. It makes your belly warm but you know from the burgeoning ache in your thighs and between your legs that you’re done for the night. He seems to come to the same conclusion as he nudges your cheek with the backs of his knuckles and murmurs, “C’mon, pet. Up you get.” 

You curl into his arms as he washes you with a fond smile that you kiss sleepily, making a soft noise at the tickle of his beard. You cling to him as he dries you off with a warm towel, pliant and giving as he pulls one of his Henleys over your head, boxers up your legs. His beard catches on your damp hair as he brushes his mouth against your temple, his palm gentle on the crown of your head, ushering you into bed and promising to bring up a bowl of pasta as you murmur a sleepy mm… ’kay… be quick, john, miss you… into your pillow. He smiles, his affection for you bursting like a supernova in his chest, spilling out of his ribs, bright and warm as the sun. 

You’re asleep when he returns, a bowl of reheated pasta in one hand, a second, smaller bowl of grated parmesan in the other. He huffs out an affectionate noise, setting the cheese on his bedside table. He climbs into bed behind you, settling under the covers and watching the slow rhythm of your chest rising and falling as he eats quietly, promising to himself that he will wake you soon, get you to eat something, and immediately knowing he won’t when you reach for him in your sleep, your hand curling into his sleep shirt.

The pasta goes cold again on his bedside table, forgotten as he scooches down beside you, tucking his face into the soft, warm skin between your neck and shoulder. The pasta will be there in the morning, this is more important.

[rosiereveries]

John who fucks you raw for the first time.

You've been dating for a year now, and you always tried to be safe. But now, he came home earlier from a mission, and you didn't have the time to buy the condoms.

But how you can say no to him, when he begs you to let him fuck you. He says how much he missed you and your pussy. So, you agree that you will give him a pussy job and he can push the tip inside.

John thinks that he never felt anything better than your pussy raw on his dick. Everything feels so intense, and he can't control himself. With few hard thrusts he is completely inside you and he can't hear your whimpers when you remind him that he is only allowed just the tip.

Now he has you under him and he promises that he will pull out, but he slowly starts to realize that it won't be possible. He thinks about you full with his child, with your breast getting bigger and his load spilling out of your pussy. How lovely would you look with his fat baby on your hip while being pregnant with another one.

He never thought he had a breeding kink but once he tried your pussy without a condom everything changes.

He pins you down to the mattress pushing his dick deep inside your pussy and when he feels you reaching your orgasm and squeezing his cock he spills his seed inside of you. With few more thrust he fucks the cum deeper inside of you.

And when you moan his name so overwhelmed and sensitive, he knows that he needs to make sure that it sticks. It doesn't take long and he is spilling another load into you.

And than another one in the shower while he has you pressed against the glass. And another one on the couch when he makes you ride him, while he smokes his favorite kind of cigars.

When the next day you come home with a pack of condoms, he quickly hides them away from you when you're not looking. He needs to make sure that soon enough you will be fat with his baby.

Masterlist

[connorsui]

Dad! Price + pregnant! reader

John Price wasn’t a man prone to sentiment. But lately, he’d caught his son watching him with that quiet, studious expression that five year olds wore when they were trying to understand something big.

It started small. A look, a tilt of the head when John helped you ease onto the couch, one hand steady at your back, the other adjusting the pillows just right. Then came the little imitations—a small hand pressed to your knee when you sighed, a too-big glass of water pushed into your hands before you even asked for it.

Yeah. The boy was watching.

John saw it in the way his son trailed after him, his steps careful and deliberate, like he was trying to map out the rhythm of care he has always provided for you.

He didn’t just follow orders; he anticipated. When John pulled out a chair for you, the boy did the same at breakfast the next morning, brows drawn in concentration as he dragged the heavy thing across the floor. When John pressed a hand to your lower back in passing, the kid reached up later, tiny palm resting there for half a second before scampering off, satisfied with a smile that he made his mother feel comfortable.

And when you winced one evening, shifting uncomfortably, it was your son who slipped off the couch without a word, returning a minute later with one of your small heating pads from the bathroom. He set it down beside you, nudging it toward your hand before looking up expectantly.

John, sitting across from you, just huffed a quiet laugh.

Smart boy.

He didn’t tell him to do any of this. Didn’t have to.

The kid was simply learning straight from him. Picking up on the way his father moved around his mother, how he noticed things before you had to say them, how care wasn’t in grand gestures but in the easy, natural rhythm of love.

John caught his son’s eye, tilting his head just slightly. The boy straightened a little, waiting.

Good lad, he thought, with a small nod of approval.

He was going to turn out just fine.

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[spurbleu]

priceghost x reader. dubcon themes.

thinking about being john’s newly-wed, barefoot and warm as an oven, stumbling to the door when you hear his iron foot fall. it’s been months, but you recognize the cadence on the porch. sounds like morning tea and his favorite cigars.

unlocking the door and throwing yourself into his arms, smelling the space above his shoulder, inhaling…petrichor. wet dirt. blood.

that isn’t your husband.

you slowly peel yourself away, stunned when your eyes meet brown instead of blue.

“where’s…”

“right ‘ere, dove.”

you glance over the stranger’s shoulder (who is still holding you up) and find your husband, looking a little too amused that his wife is in another man’s arms.

once you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, before rubbing your shoulder to coo the loud creature of embarrassment before it reaches your mouth in the form of an apology.

“you’ve met simon. he’ll be staying with us for a little while.”

you glance between the two before meeting your husbands eye. “I-“

“im sure you don’t mind the extra stomach, right darlin?”

you swallow.

“of course not,” you glance at simon, who’s face remains neutral, “the more the merrier.”

you meant for meals. they seemed to understand it differently.

now you sleep between the two of them, quilt unnecessary while their meaty limbs keep you sweltering.

the bed is heavy, and you haven’t complained because you’re a hostess, and simon is john’s friend. even when you feel him palming your clothed cunt ‘in his sleep’, you don’t fuss.

instead, you silently turn on your side, trying your best to subtly grab your husbands attention.

but he’s already there, watching. smiling gently, like he does when he says he loves you.

“there there dove. you can learn to share, right?”

[pricesprincess]

john price who knows your pregnant before you when he's groped your breasts and the last few times you've whined they were sensitive while slapping his hand away when he reaches for your nipple.

you also started asking, no scratch that. you've been begging your husband for odd snack combinations at three in the morning.

this is a man who has faced death more times than he could count, but john has never quite feared for his life when he told you the store was out of your favorite flavor of cake.

he's never seen you so riled up over something so trivial like this and judging from the unopened box of menstrual products you didn't get your cycle so that meant one thing. you're pregnant.

[beloveds-embrace]

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

part 2

Other works + help me choose a title for this 😩

[lyeofhell]

you know John’s petty as hell. like no one that controlling and obsessed with caretaking is normal. if you unbuckle your own seatbelt and open your own door before he can jump outta the driver’s seat and do it, he’ll run around the car and shut the door back in your face just so he can open it for you djskdskd