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marxo-fm · 2 months

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Take me to Church

✯ John Price x f!reader | Playlist

Summary: A reader who’s so religious that she doesn’t even think of anything close to inappropriate, until she meets her dad’s best friend, Mr. John Price.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mature themes and language, age gap (reader is 25 and Price is in his early 40’s), religious trauma from Catholic variety, dad’s best friend, loss of virginity, pet names, slight aftercare in the end, fear of getting caught from reader, smut, assurance, fingering, reader isn’t all that clueless but super inexperienced, protected PIV, oral (fem! receiving), reader has some troubles with masturbation (failure to finish), Price teaches the reader how to feel good, praising, no descriptions of readers body, race, skin color, ethnicity, hair type/length and body type.

A/N: Currently don’t know wtf I’m doing with my life and how this absurdity came to mind, but aye, I’m all here for it. This was so…..!? Yeah. Also big shout out to Hozier, my icon. Side note: I truly apologize If this fic is rough, I will edit it soon but it’s mostly because I haven’t written in a hot minute, due to school and shit, but I’m back now—and I’m proud of this!

—

The breeze kisses your skin as you soak the sun's warmth on a Friday afternoon. The grass is green, and the clouds are out, summer has just begun. You feel yourself start to come back, you were struggling but now that’s over—for a bit. You look over as you watch your dad chopping wood. Usually, he has his friends helping out, but you guessed they had things to do, which explains why they weren’t here.

You memorized their names.

There’s Gaz, Simon, a man who goes by the name of ‘Soap’—which you find funny and you’re not sure if that’s his real name or if it’s just a nickname—and then…John.

Mr. Price. Or so you call him. Sir or Mr works just fine. But you never explored your unknown and strange feelings for him. How you always felt so shy around his dominating presence, or how his voice sounds like honey and sins. You prayed at night and asked for forgiveness when thinking of such thoughts you’ve never thought of when you see John.

Until one day in high school—in health class—they taught about intercourse and other things that left you baffled and quite scared. Anxious. Curious.

You’d get scolded by your Catholic parents when you asked such things, they say it’s too early to get into these topics, or that you should wait until marriage. Your parents are good, but you always follow their rules. You never once disobeyed, only minor times but you always asked for forgiveness.

You’ve always been a good girl, but Mr. Price always makes the fire in your belly grow. And that fire burns through your veins in an excruciating need for something so sinful. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, but you never fight it off, and that was bad.

“Hey honey, ought to help me out here? The jerks I call my friends are out busy somewhere, c’mon, I’ll teach ya.” Your father motioned his hands as he walked to his area where he chops his wood, you’ve never done this before, but you’re excited. He gives you his axe, and you almost give out due to how heavy it is. “Can’t carry it like that sweet pie, hold it strong and firm.” He instructs.

You do as he says, squinting your eyes to look at his face of approval, “I think I got it.”

He nods and you bring the axe up to your shoulder, and you bring it down with every ounce of strength.

You chopped it.

“Attagirl, that’s one hell of a way to chop down wood.” A man with a deeper voice and a southern drawl said from right behind you, you turn around and the blood rushes to your head.

It’s John.

“Oh…Mr. Price,” you stammer, and you feel a rush of embarrassment plastering your cheeks.

“Y’know ya can call me John, right? Good job raisin’ her pal, she got manners.” He chews on his toothpick as he takes the axe from your hands, and the contact leaves you feeling vulnerable and so flustered. His rough hands that he used to work, chop wood, and fix things felt oddly familiar on your soft skin.

“We taught her well, ain’t that right darlin’?” John looks over his shoulder, his flannel covering his bulging biceps and that itself makes you feel thirsty for cold water.

“Yes, Dad,” you replied softly, “Well, I’m just going to head on over back home to help Mom out. Want anything to drink John?”

John looked at you momentarily, the way his name slipped out of your sweet mouth left him speechless. His eyes gaze over your white dress that sits just above your knees, it feels like he is undressing you, but he’s just wondering how and when the hell you looked like this. Of course, you were always beautiful, but there was something special there.

A spark.

“No ma’am.” He waved his hand and went back to work. You watched as his forearms grew bigger when he swung that axe down.

Forgive me for my sins.

You mumbled before you opened the door to your home and walked in.

—

“My baby’s such a bad girl, aren’t ya? Takin’ me so well.” John praises as he thrusts into you in sinister motions like he’s been deprived of something so good for such a long time, that it almost drove him over the wall.

How you felt so good, so welcoming, as his thrusts became deeper and faster. Touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed—nor could feel. It was an out-of-body experience like your soul had ascended, and you didn’t know whether it was real.

Until your alarm woke you up. It wasn’t real, but gosh did it feel real. You’re sweating, and your heart is running a marathon, as you regain your breath, you feel like you committed a crime. A crime so punishable that it could result in a death sentence.

You grab your rosary and you rock back and forth, praying and asking for forgiveness for ever dreaming about him. Your parents always told you that you wouldn’t have a good spot in the afterlife—a place called hell—if you thought of or committed any acts of sin. Especially anything and everything related to dirty inappropriate thoughts or worse, sex. Commit any of these before marriage, and you have a spot ready for you down below.

You feared for your life, even though it was impossible for anyone you love to know. They won’t ever know you have thoughts about John, or how you feel warmth between your legs when you picture him touching you in places you can’t please. Or how you picture him shirtless chopping wood, grabbing your waist from behind as he helps you hold the axe properly and swing it down. It was oh so shameful of you. Dirty, bad, sinful.

But you feel as if enough was enough, you’ve been good for far too long, that you deserve to feel good about yourself for once.

It was the perfect time, six thirty in the morning and both your parents were sleeping away, not knowing their good and obedient daughter was yearning to touch herself.

You lock your doors for safety as you scurried back to bed, you lay down on your back as you skim your fingers down your chest.

Deep breathes in and deep breathes out. You don’t know how to do this, but you’ll give in anyway. You sigh as you pull your shorts down, with your underwear as well. You drew circles around your belly before trailing down to your heat. Soft gasps escaped your mouth at your sensitive touch. Sensitive and swollen from the dream you just had.

You close your eyes, rubbing circular motions on your most sensitive area as you picture John doing this for you instead. Rough and hard-working hands aiding you. A coil in your stomach tightens, urging you to untie right then and there, but you can’t get the motions to stay the same.

You winced as you pushed your finger deeper, your back arching in response. You don’t feel anything, no pleasure, only pain and emptiness.

You want to scream in the agonizing torture of being so close yet so far away. You pull your shorts back up as you go inside the restroom to wash your hands.

You committed acts of sin and weren't pleased, and now you feel nothing but guilt and insecurity of not knowing how to do something right.

—

The next day, the same place you were before. Outside on your dad's truck watching his friends help out with work. John wore a tight brown tee that accentuated his muscles, he's a retired man, but you could see every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears in that body of his.

You blush, thinking about it. About what could be hiding under his shirt.

He catches you eyeing him but you quickly divert your eyes back to your book. John smirked, telling your dad he'll be back in a second and wants to talk with you.

"Ya watchin' me, sweetheart?" He smiled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. You watched as he did so, fearing that he'd ask you to take a puff, though you never would. "I...I was just trying to learn how you chop your wood, sir."

A deep chuckle escapes his mouth, "Y'know I can teach you, doll," the new nickname had you unable to face him, but he loved seeing you flustered. He took a puff and you nodded, "Come on over to my place, your dad won't mind. I'm not at home much, anyway. S'good to learn y'know," he went on as he walked closer to you, his southern accent becomes deeper as he goes, "You'll have the privacy that you need, to read your books and pray." He knew how religious you are, heck, he's a good friend to your parents.

"I don't know if my father will let me go, with a man nonetheless." John looks back and then back to you, "It's only me, angel."

You decide to ask your father, just in case. You don't want to go behind his back, even if John is family. You walk on over, building the courage to ask your father if it's okay to go over to a man's house, a man you yearn for.

"Dad, is it okay If John takes me to his house? He's gonna teach me how to chop wood." Your dad looks at you momentarily, before speaking, "Of course honey, just because I want you to help an old man out here and there. 'Aka' me." You tried to keep your cool, to not look so eager about going over a man's house.

John smiled, the thought of having you all to himself at his place gets him straining against his jeans. He loves it when you eye him as if he doesn't know or sense when you drool over him.

"Here's your room, sweet thing, if ya ever need anything I'm just a shout away." He sets his tools down and walks to the kitchen, his jeans shaping his toned legs and shirt sizes too small. Butterflies invade your stomach, merely at the thought that you'd be sleeping under the same roof as this man, and willing to teach you something you're so interested in.

"Can't believe your dress is that short, doll. Your mother let you out like that?" He eyed your white dress that sits just above your knees and shows more skin than the dresses you usually wear. "You know, Mr. Price, I'm an adult now."

"Course you are," he takes a sip of his beer, "but I ain't take you as the one to dress like this. Can't say I don't like it."

You smile, flustered at the way he just complimented you. You can't deny that you like it, you love it. It sent a rush of arousal through your entire body, and he noticed the way you crossed your legs.

"Damnit,"

"What is it?" You asked curiously, not knowing that John saw the way you squeezed your thighs together. He wants to ease the need and desire that coursed through you, but he doesn't want to screw it all up.

"Nothin', now come on outside."

"Now, you're going to hold it just like this," he instructs, pushing his hard body against your back as he holds your arms. You could feel the hardness of his strain on your back and you scream internally, unable to form coherent thoughts.

You made this so hard for him, so difficult to the point where John himself forgot what he wanted to teach you.

"Easy," his calloused hands left your arms and snaked their way along your waist. Your stomach flipped at the action. Goosebumps flare over your entire skin, his manly scent entering your nose and taking over your mind. You swallowed, and continued.

"Now raise your axe, and swing it down."

You did just so, and you successfully chopped the wood.

"That's it, angel baby, look at ya. Such a good learner."

"I am, aren't I?" You slightly bit your lip, John cursed himself and cupped your face. "Mm, damn right you are." John wondered deeply if you were such a good learner in other parts as well. Price cupping your face was a first, but his calloused hands that signal just how much of a hard worker made the intense throb between your legs grow.

You wake up with your blanket suffocating as you struggle to fall asleep, again. You tossed and turned, repeating everything and every touch he gave you. You try to stop the need and the burn in your belly, you really do, but it's hard when you don't know how to fulfill your need. It became so bad to the point where you stood up and walked to the kitchen for water.

He wasn't in his room, he was out for the morning. A busy man and you're so silly for thinking he'd be home, even when he informed you he wouldn't be home every passing hour.

But oh how much you needed him. In ways, you couldn't forgive yourself for it.

You sit down, as quiet as a mouse, waiting patiently for him to come back just so you can confess your dirty sins. Maybe he'll forgive you for them, or maybe he won't show you mercy.

You try to occupy yourself, laying down on the couch and turning on the TV, still in your nightgown. You pull the blanket over, ready to watch a cooking video to learn a few things.

But it hits you that you're actually able to do something about the heat in between your legs, now that nobody is here. The house was quiet except for the TV playing.

Your hand trails under the blanket, lifting your nightgown as you reach for your soaked underwear. Shameful how you're soaked even when he's not around, John really leaves his mark on you. You let out a sigh as you reached your wet and sensitive clit.

It's not easy when you struggle to please yourself, it's so disappointing, honestly. Today was no different.

There is this creeping guilt, but it always hits you the most just when you creep up the tip of the mountain, only for you to fall off when you realize what you're doing.

You can't stop thinking of him, shoulders aching and tears urging to escape when you're so close to reaching the end, only for it to be unsuccessful.

So, you close your eyes and let out a deep breath. Spreading your legs further as your fingers plunged into your aching hole, you gasped. Picturing yet again, how he pleases his women. Of course, he knew how, he is well experienced and capable of pleasing a woman, to the point where she forgets her own name.

You're committing acts of sins in his own home, unforgivable and dirty. Because you were raised with the idea of being perfect, but no one is perfect. From the moment you're born and the moment you die--but the moment you die is the moment John Price fulfills your dirty little dreams.

He whispers in your ear telling you how to do this and how to do that.

'Just like that.'

'Those fingers are too light, darlin', lemme do all the work."

"Attagirl, in and out."

And you almost reached the top of the mountain, whispering finally as sweat buds trail down your forehead.

Finally, finally, finally.

Until you fell down the mountain you tried so hard climbing, when John swings open the door to the sight of his best friend's daughter getting off on his couch. You hurriedly pull your panties back up.

At that moment, you wanted to scream.

To run away.

To die.

He's going to tell your dad, and your entire body freezes. You can't plead for forgiveness when you're so far gone. No mercy will be shown when he kicks you out and tells your parents how bad their daughter truly is.

You sit straight as your body shakes in fear, you're unable to cry when you know your fate.

A sinful girl.

"John," you choke, "I-I am so so sorry, I didn't mean to. I really wasn't-"

"How long have you been at this?" Your heart drops all the way down as the blood from your face drains. "O..only," you struggle to speak as his deep brown eyes gaze at you, "It was only this one time."

You lied.

Another sin.

He stands in silence, shutting the door behind him as he takes big steps towards you. He hovers over you, looking down to see a dirty girl in front of him. As if you played this innocent and sweet girl, though you were, except in John's eyes you weren't. At least that's what you thought.

He takes your chin and pushes your head up to face him, you weren't able to look in his eyes, it was all too much.

"Look at me," he grumbled, you did just what he said. Not once resisting, although it was difficult.

"I ain't mad at ya, it's natural, honey."

Your eyes widened and your shoulders relaxed from the tension and fear.

"You're not going to tell on me?" You asked, Price chuckles.

"Course I'm not, I ain't no snitch, I'm a grown man." He bends on his knees, his thumbs rubbing circular motions on your exposed skin.

"Did it feel good? Sorry to have ruined it for ya' angel." It sure did feel good knowing you almost reached the top, it really did, but it felt better having John assuring you that it was all okay. "You don't have to be sorry--I was just..."

"Go on."

"Continue what I interrupted, don't let my presence stop ya," he signaled his pointer finger toward the door to his room, "it ain't comfortable here. No space to spread those sweet legs, is there?"

You shake your head, "Go on, unless you want me in there. I know deep down you do, doll, you can feel so much better." He's right, the moment you've been dreaming of, it finally comes true. How could you say no to John being in the same room making you feel good?

You almost can't believe it.

He suddenly picks you up from the couch, initiating a soft gasp from you when he opens the door and throws you on his mattress.

You balance yourself with your two hands when he undresses himself in front of you. Starting off with his shirt. You gasp once again, at the sight of his sculpted body before you. His chest was full of hair and his toned dad bod was the definition of perfect.

He gets on the bed and slowly crawls towards you, his head now in between your thighs. "I interrupted your time of need, sweet girl, let me make it up to you." He smiles before hooking his finger on the hem of your underwear, pulling them down all the way to your ankles. On display right before him, so shy you hid away, unable to look at the lewd sight in front of you. "That ain't gonna work for me, eyes over here." His fingers dug into your thighs, you did just as he said, looking at his eyes that continue to look at your pretty pussy.

"S'fuckin' wet."

It's a dream come true for John as well, to see you all wide open and soaking wet for him.

He places peppered kisses along your thighs, and you whimper as he stops. John makes his way up to your lips, biting your bottom lip before kissing you deeply and hungrily. Exactly like the dreams.

His stache brushing against your top lip only made it feel real, his tongue deep inside your mouth as your hands held the back of his head, pushing his mouth impossibly deeper. He's eating your face as if it were his last meal on death row. Like a predator catching his prey.

He pulls away from the intense kiss, the saliva leaving both of you.

Good God did he know how to kiss, you let him do all the work when you could barely kiss him back just as good.

His chest heaved, and he continued with his kisses on your neck and down your collarbone, pushing a soft moan out of you that drove John over the wall. "Make more noises, it's only the two of us, jus' let me hear ya." He cooed, his hands lifting your nightgown over your hips and then over your head. His eyes trailed over your breasts hidden in your bra. "Ah fuck," you sit up, allowing John to unclip your bra, the sight of your chest out on display for him made his mouth water. He grips your left breast with one hand while he sucks and kisses the other.

"Oh, John...keep doing that, please."

He kneads your breast, almost putting you to sleep with how good it feels, "mmmhm," you sighed, "you been wantin' this, and I'm sorry for waiting this long." He apologizes as he places kisses down your belly and finally makes his way back to being in between your thighs.

"No need...to be sorry," you breathe, tilting your head back when he swipes his tongue between your wet folds. The new feeling alone made your legs tremble, enticing a loud gasp from you. You start to rock your hips against his mouth as his deep groans vibrate through your entire nervous system. "Taste like fuckin' Heaven, oh sweet baby, I think you are heaven itself." Praise that had you dropping your jaw as he inserted his hot tongue in your hole.

You swore you saw Heaven.

Brows furrowed and back arched as he eats you like a hungry man, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you, and your legs spread further open inviting him in for more.

John inserts one finger in as his tongue continues to suck on your most sensitive area, and you let out the loudest moan you didn't think you were capable of ever making.

You died in this moment. And John swore he died in that moment, also.

"John," you pant, focusing on what could be your first-ever orgasm.

"I know, you're close baby, s'fuckin' tight, come for me." His words of encouragement suddenly break the coil inside your burning belly, the liquid seeping out of you as he continues to lick away every last bit from you.

He takes his finger and licks you away, which leaves you half-lidded.

"See? How hard was that? Like rippin' a damn bandaid off, does your wound feel better?" He teased, "It does," you say softly, still reminiscing what happened a few seconds ago. What you just felt, how it felt like fireworks exploding inside your veins.

"Such a perfect pussy, waiting to be full of me." He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, you've never had sex, but you definitely never needed something more than now. You need him, to get to know him, even when you already do.

"Does it hurt like they say?" You asked nervously, watching as his jeans disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers. His thick thighs didn't do much justice in the dim light.

"When I do it, then it shouldn't be as bad, doll. Jus' a little pain, but if ya feel like it's too much, you jus' tell me. Hm?"

It makes you feel special with how sweet he treats you, he treats you with such care that it truly makes you dizzy.

He takes off his boxers and you almost lose all consciousness, his cock leaking with pre-cum and hard, you thought it was quite inhumane how big he is.

Sure you've explored your curiosity, but John, he differed from all of them.

"Poor thing needs some love and I'm going to show your pussy what the definition of love is." You grew heavy with desire, "ya need me to use a condom, sweetheart?" he asked, you nodded, simply because you weren't on the pill.

He opens his drawer and pulls out a condom, ripping it off with his teeth and spitting a piece of the wrapper out.

That was a sight for sore eyes.

He slips it on his thick cock, the condom intensifying every vien, it left your mouth dry like a Sahara desert.

How was that going to fit? Was all you were thinking about, but you were so sure he was going to make it feel okay.

He sets his heavy cock on your soaking entrance, teasing you while he moves his dick up and down your folds, you whine with need and John chuckles.

Was this the sinful thing that would literally damn you for eternity? How could something so dirty feel so good?

He brings a hand of his to pin your arms down, while the other holds your leg close to him. Your brows furrow as he slowly enters himself into you. John grows concerned when he sees your lips pursed and your eyes shut tightly, a tear escaping.

He stops, and you stop holding your breath.

"It hurts don't it? Want me to stop?"

"Please, no," you gasp, "I...I want you to keep going."

He readjusts your hips, before proceeding to continue, "You sure, honey?" You nod and whisper a hundred times yes before he thrusts deep inside of you.

"So fuckin' good for me, fuck!" he shouts, he loved the way your cunt fluttered and wrapped tightly around his cock.

The silence in the room was filled with his groans and loud moans from you, so lewd and so dirty. But you're too far deep to leave now, you're ready to die, happily.

"My," he thrusts, then pulling away and thrusting back in deeper, "gorgeous," you gasp when he continues his rhythm of thrusting and being so close to pulling out before he thrusts impossibly deeper again, "Girl." He breathed.

He brings his fingers to circle your sensitive clit, and you feel it happening again. It's more intense and heavier.

Your walls wrapped tightly on his cock, initiating that you're indeed closer than you have ever been before. "Mhmm," he moaned, and it was such a sweet sound you so badly wanted to hear again. He grabs hold of your legs, bringing them closer to your head, thrusting at a deeper angle that you can feel in your throat.

"That's it, baby, that's my fuckin' girl right here. All mine, gimme one more." He stopped as you cried out his name over and over until it became engraved in John's brain. He silences your cries with his lips as your legs shake around him.

"You did so well for me, your pussy jus' needed some medicine to be cured, got you coming all over my cock." He begins to move again, to finish himself this time. Your pain turns into pleasure and familiarity when he pushes himself in and out.

"John, that feels so..." He groans loudly at the way you watch his cock slide in and out, it was obscene but also surreal, "look at you, fuck, gonna make me cum just lookin' at me like that."

Which you felt so good about, it's all you wanted.

He pants as he reached a certain point, chest heaving as you can feel his cock twitching inside of you.

John pulls out, and there's sadness in your heart at the emptiness. Your heart thuds loudly that your first time to be with a man you dreamed about, it feels euphoric. You felt ecstatic.

He wipes away your dry tears and your hair away from your face, that drowned in sweat and tears.

John admired you the second he laid his eyes on you till now, he never knew the definition of perfect until this moment.

"Can you teach me how to feel good?" You asked as your hand roamed his broad shoulders and his back. And fuck, did John love that.

"Course' baby, on top of the choppin' the damn wood lessons," you both laugh, "I got all the time in the world, for you."

Your heart ached, he whispered sweet nothings before he carried you into the bathroom to clean up the mess.

Then you nestled under his arms and his body heat, his chest, and arms hugging you as the two of you slept the day away.

It was worth every waking second, and now you can sleep peacefully.

A/N: Y'all, wtf. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Need him.

This lowkey needs to be edited some more now that I’m reading it, but I’ll definitely do that later…

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blingblong55 · 11 days

Text

Sweetness- John Price

pic credit: @ave661 (middle pic) Based on a request: hi!! https://www.instagram.com/reel/C2kkbOYo8jj/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== writing this for when requests are open this with price??? hehehehe ---- F!Reader, fluff, husband!Price, romance? ----

A/N: i hope this is okay for ya

Anniversary dinners were always fun. John knows you too much to know you prefer food trucks over fancy restaurants for moments like these. It started when you first met, he wanted to impress you but you were always honest about not wanting to dress up and feel pretentious. So, he took you to a food truck, and you and he sat by some bench at the park, talked, and laughed and ever since that date, it became your thing.

It's been nine years, nearly ten, and every year he takes you to the same food truck. Sit by the same bench, talk, laugh and have occasional talks about the life you've lived together.

It's Thursday night, the tenth anniversary and as you are getting ready to go to the same park, he opens the front door of your home. The kids run down the stairs and you can hear their giggles as he tells them some secret. John lets the sitter watch over the kids in the living room as he makes his way to you.

In all your beauty, you look into the mirror, deciding if leaving the fancy locket on would be too much for tonight.

He leans on the doorway, bouquet behind his back. "I can feel your eyes on me, John," you say and he chuckles. His cheeks flush, it's like the first time he met you. You are so effortlessly beautiful and all he can do is stand there in his black suit. You turn around, a confused look on your sweet face, "Why are you wearing that suit?"

He wants to treat you to a good dinner, unlike the past years.

"I think it's time we do this right," he walks up to you, a soft black dress in one hand and the flowers in the other. "John, no, this is our thing, I don't want to change that-" you try to say but he shakes his head. "I love our thing, but I also know you deserve more than food truck meals."

By the time he and you arrive at the restaurant, he takes your hand, leading you in. The entire dinner is more than lovely but you can tell something is off.

"What's the matter?" you ask and he sighs. He forgets you know him too well. "Did you enjoy tonight?" he takes your hands in his and you nod. "I did too, but...we also need our fun and this place is too boring," he stands up and guides you outside. Instead of walking to the car, he picks you up, bridal style and crosses the street. "John," you laugh, trying to get him to put you down. "Let's have fun, darling," he smiles and kisses your cheek.

Without you knowing, his sweet words and loving eyes distract you as he carries you to the same old park. "I have loved every day of my life since you walked in and I adore those kids of ours but I also adore the feeling I've had since you first introduced yourself to me," he puts you down and kisses you without a warning. His hands cupping your face, you tiptoe just enough when he pulls you in and you feel it, the sweet, nervous rush you get when you have him this close.

There is always something about this park, it was never the food truck dinners, the pregnancy cravings, or the drunk nights, all it ever has been and ever will be is the way each time, he held you close and just talked his heart out. It was intimacy for the raw feeling and words he whispered to you that only you and he meant.

He and you sit on that bench, before you know it, he kneels in front of you. He takes your heels off and kisses your legs before looking up, "I do love you, Y/N," he whispers and eventually kisses your lips again.

By the end of the night, you piggyback your way to the car and he laughs as he feels your arms wrapped around him, your heels held by your hand as you repeatedly kiss his cheek.

It has always been about the emotions rather than the place.

It's always been him and you, walking back to the car with some jokes thrown into the air.

It's always been him.

It'll forever be him.

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raffe156 · 8 months

Text

Room for one more

Pairing - Price x OC Tank (F!reader)

Summery - Testing the limits of a one man tent…

A/N- little Drabble based on those single tents @atomiccrownpoetry mentioned, I’m sorry it took so long! Though I’ve tagged it as Tank an I read it as Tank and some of you will do the same, I don’t mention her by name so can be read as Price x F!reader 😌

Warnings - Smut (18+) Voyeurism kind of , Language, Age gap Price (38) Tank (26) unsafe sex, p in v

✨As always comments and feedback welcome ✨

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank

“You should get your head down kid, you look shattered” Price rubbed your back, he towered over you his hand lingered between your shoulder blades.

He was right it had been a long day of recon and you weren’t about to get into another argument with Soap over who ate the last digestive biscuit.

It was you but you weren’t about to admit that. Tonight was the last night of a 3 day stay in the desert and you were ready to go home.

“Yeh you’re right” You stood up stretching your back.

“Listen, one more night of this and I promise you fresh sheets and a real pillow.” Price squeezed the back of your neck a smile on his face. Everyone cheered at the idea of getting their heads down in a proper bed, but you knew he didn’t mean the beds back at the base. The thought caused a stir in your stomach and it was enough to get you through the next few hours.

You said your good nights and walked back to your single tent with Farah in tow.

You chit chatted as you both stripped down to your under layers outside your tents. Even though the temperature dropped at night, inside the tent was insulated and the last few nights had been so warm you had slept with just the mesh panel.

“Was it you that ate the last of those biscuits Soap loves so much?” Farah laughed as she turned you around to braid your hair just like she had done the last few nights. You gave her a knowing smirk as you handed her the comb. She laughed shaking her head.

“Sooo you and Alex eh?”

Farah didn’t need to see your face she could hear the grin as clear as your words.

“Asimat!” She tugged the braid playfully. You held your head laughing.

“OK OK ‘ana asf!” You pleaded.

“Never mind that, what about you and the Captain eh? Ya ‘iilahi, I see the way he looks at you, like a starving man looks at a meal…”

“Farah! Asimat!” You could feel your face flushing.

She tied a bobble around the braid a cocky look on her face. You both eyed each other, before bursting out laughing the sound echoed across the campsite and off into the distance.

For a few minutes the two of you weren’t soldiers in the night, but just two girls braiding each others hair and laughing about boys at a sleepover.

***********

You lay in your tent listening to the sounds of the desert, the distance chirps and hoots.

Just as your mind was finally drifting off you felt the air shift, turning your head slowly you watched the zip of the tent door curl down to reveal the pitch black night, the warm breeze blowing in as a dark silhouette moved closer inside. You knew instantly who it was the air bringing in the smell of dampened fire and cigar smoke.

You blinked a few times trying to make out where the nighttime visitors face was.

“You awake kid?”

“Yeh…I’am now”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Don’t think you’ll fit”

“I will…move over”

“Move over where? It’s a 1 man tent”

“Good thing I’m just 1 man then eh?”

“….”

“Just move over” a growl more than a whisper now.

“Someone’s gonna see you, I thought you said we have to wait till we get back home? You fully lectured me about it?”

“I know what I said…just move over”

You did as you were told, moving on to your side allowing your Captain to slide in next to you. It was a tight fit as he zipped the panel shut behind him, you could feel the air trapped inside get heavy.

“Come ere” Price pulled you into him, you threw your leg over his waist.

“Oh I’ve missed this…can’t wait to get back to mine, don’t plan on letting you leave the bed let alone the bedroom” He let out a little chuckle as he kissed the top of your head.

“I know it’s not the same….but I’ve wanted to be close with you like this since we arrived Kid, it’s been driving me insane…”

“I’m more than happy with this, I’ve missed you too Boss”

You stretched your body out over his, your hands finding their place to settle.

He was in his joggers and a T-shirt, he must of walked the distance from his tent to yours in his socks you could feel the tiny grains of sand against your legs. You tried to pull them off his feet with your own.

“What are you doing? You’re not taking another pair of my socks!”

“No you’ve got sand on them, take them off”

You felt a little rumble of a laugh come from his chest.

“If you want me to take my kit off all you have to do is ask love”

“Shut up! You’ve got sand all in my sleeping bag take them off now!”

“Oh using your big girl voice are we? Hmm I like it” He pulled you on top of him your body sliding over him with ease, legs either side. You tried to sit up but your back was pressed back down by the roof of the tent.

“John what the…”

He cut you off his hands pulling you down into him, his mouth finding yours in the dark. His kiss was hungry and needy, it had been a few days since he’d been able to show any real affection towards you. You had made do with the odd pat on the shoulder, his hand lingering a minute longer than needed, standing just that little bit closer during briefs, his legs looped with yours in the back of cramped vans and trucks.

You allowed him to devour you in the darkness.

Lifting your hips slightly Price pushed his joggers down just enough to pull his cock out and rest it on your underwear. You instinctively rolled your hips back into him feeling the sturdiness of his erection as it pushed against you.

You felt his hand pull roughly at your underwear, he wanted them off but knew there wasn’t the room or the time so pulled to the side would have to do. His fingers brushed against your folds as he pull the fabric away. Without needing to be told you eased the tip of him inside you savouring the feeling as you pushed through, you could hear the little grunts of frustration and swore there was a whimper or two as you sank yourself down taking him down to the base. It was a snug fit.

“Fuckin ell” he whispered as you slowing rocked your hips back and forth your chest pressed to his. A pathetic whine left your own body. You desperately wanted to sit up, wanted to feel his hands roam up your body, to cup your breasts, you wanted to see his face, see the same desperation in his eyes, to watch as his teeth clenched and gritted together as you rode him, but there was no room for fancy moves or position changes, this was it packed in tight, close quarters.

You tucked yourself in under his chin your head slightly tilted, Price held you close to him as you slowly picked up the pace, his other hand firmly on your backside rocking you back and forth grinding your clit on his pubic bone.

The thought of being heard or even caught made you want to be that little bit louder, just a few feet away your entire squad slept it made your system flood with adrenaline.

As if he had read your mind, Price gripped your backside tighter. You let out a moan.

“Need you to stay quiet love, can’t have you waking the whole camp up now can we…what would they say if they caught us like this eh? I promise you can be as loud as you want when we get back home…” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

You couldn’t take it, you pushed yourself up rolling your hips faster and faster. The roof of the tent rubbing against your back.

The air inside the tent was heavy and damp with condensation, but you didn’t care your bodies were buzzing, you could feel it right there building inside of you both. Each craving for this closeness, this connection for days.

Price placed his hand on the side of your neck. He was close, but you were closer and he knew it your body gave you away.

“That’s it….cum for me love…aww…good girl…that’s its…” he gripped your neck that bit tighter your moans came out ragged and broken from trying to stay quiet, but even though you were coming undone you couldn’t stop your hips from rocking back and forth your body wanted more your insides pulsed and fluttered around him, begging to come again.

Price couldn’t hold out any longer and began desperately bucking his hips up into you, cursing between gritted teeth with each thrust. The sticky wet noises filling the tent, someone would definitely be able to hear, the rush of being caught surged through your body again making your hips match the speed of Price’s thrusts. This caused you both to fall apart very quickly. You buried your head in his neck to stifle your cries.

“Fuckkkkkk…” Prices groaned as he came inside you, his thrusts slowing as he became more sensitive.

You both lay there trying to catch your breath, your bodies pulsing as your heartbeats tried to regulate. Once the blood had stopped rushing in your ears you tried to listen for any movement outside the tent, hushed voices or footsteps, but all you could hear were the distant hoots and howls of the night.

“Think we’re good…” Price kissed your temple as he slowly unzipped one of the panels to let some air in.

*************

You woke up at 6:00 alone having no idea when Price had left you, but you felt his socks at the bottom of sleeping bag pulling them on you sorted yourself out and grabbed your toiletries bag, the makeshift showers weren’t too bad and you definitely needed one.

As you unzipped your tent you were met with the familiar sleepy faces of your squad. Soap half hanging out of his tent with a brew talking to Gaz, his Mohawk fluffy and sticking out in all directions. The pair of them clocked you and grinned. Your heart sunk. They had heard you last night, but before you could speak or plead your case Ghost and Price walked over to the huddle of tents.

“Morning kid…want a swig of this?” He handed you his cup of coffee you took it looking him dead in the eye.

“Can we have a word…in private?” You whispered. His face changed a serious look on his face. He nodded guiding you away from the others.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I think Gaz and Soap heard us last night they were talking this morning and gave me this look…I don’t know but they know something” you held the cup of coffee tight.

Price smiled resting his hand on your shoulder he leant forward so he was eye level with you. You wanted to slap the beard right of his face.

“We weren’t the only ones at it last night kid, have you noticed anyone missing this morning?”

A wave of relief washed over you, thank god!

“So if it’s not us they heard who was it?….” It only took a spilt second to realise who was missing.

“oh my god….Farah and Alex!” You spilt half the coffee onto Prices boots as you whipped round to look back at the camp.

“Correct…and Soap said they were pretty loud so even if we had been heard everyone thinks it’s them” Price chuckled as he took back his coffee.

Just as you turned back to Price you heard cheering and whistles, Alex had crawled out of Farah’s tent, bed headed and shirtless a weak smile on his face. Soap slapped him on the back offering him a coffee, close behind Farah appeared looking more triumphant than anything as she light up a cigarette. She waved at you and the Captain.

“She’s ballsy that one” you smiled back at her as Price lifted his coffee mug up at her in salute.

***********

A few days later you get a text from Gaz

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mlmxreader · 5 months

Text

Are You Ready? | John Price x gn!reader (🍋)

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Price

35 “One of my biggest regrets was not telling you how much I loved you sooner” ❞

: ̗̀➛ Price is finally home, and you can't quite believe it.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, anal fingering, dry humping, dirty talk, Daddy kink, praise kink

: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You fidgeted uncomfortably in your bed, tossing and turning all night whilst the television continued to play quietly, bathing the entire room in a dull blue light; beside you, Price hardly even stirred, hardly even paused as he slept so soundly beside you.

Completely and utterly knocked out from recently coming home from deployment; he was exhausted, in all honesty, but who could blame him?

When he had spent days looking into the eyes of boys hardly older than fifteen, blank and lifeless stares glaring into his soul; when he spent hours hunched over a desk and writing letter after letter to mothers and fathers, telling them that their babies had died. That their babies who would never return home to loving embraces, to hot home cooked meals and to soft, kind and loving words.

When he had spent days marching in mud up to his knees, blisters on his feet, sores on his legs and burns on his fingertips; endless miles of mud, with only rats, fleas and lice to keep him company. After all of that, who could ever say that he was to blame for being so tired, for being so fucking exhausted?

Who could ever say that he was to blame?

But unlike Price, you couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that you were upset, or that you were tormented by anything, but it was the mere fact that you were just so happy to have him home; you were fucking giddy to have him home, you just couldn’t settle down. It was uncomfortable to lie in bed, but it was so good to have Price home at last.

All you wanted to do was jump on him and scream in his face about how much you had missed him; but you knew that he needed to rest, so you did try and keep yourself a little bit calmer than what you would have wanted. But you couldn’t believe it.

You felt him shift beside you, a harsh groan coming from the back of his throat as his hand drifted down, grabbing your ass and pulling you flush against his body.

“I missed you,” Price grumbled sleepily, pulling you on top of him and gently rocking his hips against you. “Y’know that, right?”

Your hands went to his chest as you pushed back against him, nodding as a breathy moan left your lips. “Four years tomorrow, baby… four years together, and I miss you more and more every time.”

He pushed his hips up against you, grinding. “Four years, and one of my biggest regrets was not telling you how much I loved you sooner.”

You swallowed thickly, pushing down your pyjama bottoms to expose yourself to him, moaning softly when he slipped his ring and middle fingers into your ass, slowly pumping them in and out as you whimpered for him to keep going. “John… fuck…”

“You like that?” He breathed out, and when you agreed, he picked up the pace. Fucking you with his fingers as he felt you clamp down around his thick fingers. “‘M gonna fuck you and fill that pretty little ass… make you so fuckin’ full…”

“Unf!” You squeezed your eyes tightly shut for a moment, hips bucking as you ground down against his fingers, your mouth falling agape and giving him the perfect excuse to capture your mouth with his.

Sucking your tongue before grabbing the back of your neck and harshly grinding against you; you could only whimper, so needy and desperate for him that all your words seemed to fail so miserably, so terribly.

All you could think about was how good his cock would look buried inside your ass, slick with lube and hammering into you; how good his cock would feel as it stretched you until you could hardly take it anymore, until you were sobbing and biting down on the bedsheet as it became wet and squelched with your spit and tears.

“You thinkin’ about it?” Price huffed, gently nibbling at your neck. “How good my cock would look as I bend you over and fuck you… you’re gonna look so good when I stuff you full of my cum… you’re gonna look so good…”

You let out a harsh breath, shuddering against him as you felt it wash over you; your legs shook harshly, thighs trembling as you bucked against him and allowed yourself to let loose at last. Sharp short breaths coming from your mouth as you fucked yourself against his fingers. Your eyes shut tightly, you could feel yourself coming undone as you thought more about it.

The slapping of skin, the smell of sex filling the room, the sounds of grunts and growls and soft whimpers. The feeling of his skin on yours; Price grumbled softly under his breath, slipping his hand to you and letting your cum coat his skin as he tilted his head back slightly.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised softly. “Cum for me, c'mon.”

“D-Daddy,” you gasped out, trying to fuck yourself against him even more desperately, wanting to feel it all over again. “Please… please… wanna… wanna cum twice…”

“Oh, baby,” he breathed out, pulling his fingers from your ass and flipping you onto your back. He settled between your legs, his hands on your thighs as he grinned tiredly. “Do you want my cock, now?”

You nodded desperately, mouth agape and drool slipping from the corner. “Please…”

“Yeah?” He whispered, gently tracing your jaw. “You sure you can take it?”

“John,” you growled softly, tugging at him. “Please don't be a tease…”

Licking his lips, Price smiled down at you, attacking your neck as he kissed and bit and sucked at the skin until you were bucking your hips against him, begging for him. “Four years together, and you've never been hotter than you are right now.”

You laughed softly, playfully slapping his chest and rolling your eyes fondly. “Four years, and I've never wanted you to fuck me as much as I need you to right now.”

“I see your point,” he growled out, palming at himself for a moment. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

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firsttimewriter92 · 1 year

Text

To be healed

Captain John Price x f!reader Part 2/5

This is part two of "To be injured". I recommend reading that one first otherwise some things in this one will not make much sense ;)

Summary: John is making good on his promise showing you that he wants to earn your trust and consent. Little by little he patches you up this time, leading to a lesson John ist just too eager to teach.

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, do not interact! This is not for you. Dirty talk, teasing, dry humping, kissing, intimacy issues due to sexual trauma, toothrotting fluff, sexual acts, little bit of angst

Masterlist

Wordcount: 4.557

(God, that GIF makes me go Brrrr)

It has been three weeks since John and you decided to try how far you would come together. He spent quite some time at your apartment. You cooked for him (turns out he loved cooking but was horrible at it), you read together in comfortable silence or you played your favourite game while he watched and gnawed your ear off with questions. You loved it. He was genuinely interested in the games and just seemed to like how you reacted to them.

Each night however he respectfully stood up from your couch and said goodbye to you at your door. And with each night you felt like it became harder and harder to let him go. It was astounding to you how quickly you got used to his firm body next to yours on the couch. His gentle fingers raking absentmindedly over your skin while you read, your back pressed against his chest. How his steely thigh pressed against yours when he leaned onto his knees, concentrating hard on your gameplay process and loudly voicing his discontent when you got attacked, making you laugh uncontrollably. The way he bumped his shoulder or hip into you playfully because you made fun of his terrible chopping skills.

One evening while putting the dishes away (He had left no crumbs as per usual. That man could EAT), he reached over and stroked a finger slowly across your cheek. You nearly dropped the dish towel but soon smiled and turned to him. Towel long forgotten on the counter. His hand encased your cheek and he ever so lightly pulled. You stepped into his space willingly and he squinted at you amused. Rolling your eyes sarcastically you stood on your tip toes and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. He grinned mischievously when you parted from him. “Very good” he said amused. “You make it easy” you giggled. A light dusting of pink adorned his cheeks at that and he huffed. “Yeah, if you say so, little one.” Humming contently, your arms wound themselves around his waist. One of your favourite things to do as you found out. He fit so perfectly in your arms it was almost too good to be true. But it was. The fond and affectionate way he was gazing down at you left no doubt. “Need your help with somethin´” he whispered. You nodded, smiling widely. You knew what he meant. He always used that phrase when he asked you to take a look at the wound on his back. The one you stitched up. The one that started it all. And as always you just said “Shirt” and tucket at the hem.

Though getting used to his vernacular, you were sure you would never get used to the effect he had on you shirtless. You felt the heat creep over your skin as he pulled the shirt over his head by the collar in his neck. Setting it down onto the island he looked at you, again as always a little sheepishly. You turned to your cupboard and produced the little medkit that John had given you. He was quite concerned when he found out that you didn’t even have bandaids at home. The next day he came over and insisted you accept the first aid kit he assembled for you. “It´s important, love. You never know when you might need it.”

He had a little smug look on his face when he turned around. You carefully removed the adhesive plaster and inspected the wound. It healed very nicely. “I think we can forego the plaster” you said happily. “It´s completely closed now.” You felt him twitch a little when you first touched his freshly healed skin to clean it. You thought he was still sensitive but then again, he didn’t twitch like that when you quite literally poured disinfectant on the open gash when it was completely open. Cleaning didn’t take any time and by the time you slowly massaged an ointment into his skin you could feel him shiver. The confidence this man had given you in the last couple of weeks suddenly gripped you like a vice and you marvelled in it. So you did something you hadn’t done yet in his presence. You took initiative.

Until now, it was always him that pulled you or leaned in first. This time, when you pressed your fingers into his skin a little more forcefully, you felt him leaning into your touch. You let your hands wander all over his back, his shoulders, the backs of his arms down to his lower back. Your hands were shaking only a little bit when you rested them at his sides and slowly let them wonder towards his front. Leaning closer you pressed your upper body to his and hugged him around his waist. You could feel his laboured breathing. This was the most skin to skin contact you have had yet and you absolutely lived for it. He was so warm and soft and freckly, his skin smelled like nothing you had ever smelled before and it was addicting. Rubbing your nose between his shoulder blades you felt him heaving a big breath. His chest expanded quite a bit. “You okey, little one?” he asked in a hushed voice while moving his hands over yours and squeezed them closer onto his abdomen. You nodded against his back but remembered quickly what his next words would probably be. “Yes” you said, hearing him chuckle. “Yeah I´m good” you nuzzled your cheek between his massive shoulder blades. You stood there for a while cuddling, breathing each other in and feeling each other’s heartbeats. But suddenly, it didn’t feel like enough.

You detached from him quickly and with a very worried expression he turned around. “___, is ev-” he only had time to say your name before you threw your arms around his neck and clung almost desperately to him. Not questioning your motives he grunted from the impact, grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the island behind him in a smooth swoop. “Legs around me” he growled and gently guided them around his waist. “Hold onto me, it´s okey, love. Hold on” You tried to grab as much warm skin as you could while burying your face into his neck, a little whimper leaving your lips. It was the most comforting feeling you have had in years and you were terrified it would end too soon. That he would deprive you of it the moment he found out how much you loved it. “Shhh. It´s all right. I´m here, ´m not goin´ anywhere, I promise.” His voice was soothing, deep and rich while his arms pressed you impossibly closer to him. One hand reassuringly stroking over your hair and neck. Gently he rocked you back and forth a bit and waited for you to calm down. “´M here because I want to, you hear me?” he whispered into your hairline. “´M here because I said I want your trust an´ everythin´ that comes with it. ´M not leaving,___” he breathed heavily through his nose while you almost ripped the skin of his back with your fingernails. Calming, sweet nothings left his lips while you calmed down. No tears were shed this time but the fear of abandonment was still lodged into your flesh. Knowing he was there, holding you close with no expectation of sex and yet no intention of leaving, helped your beating heart immensely.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked into his gorgeous eyes. He had a serious expression on his face when he lifted his hands and framed your face. “I´m fine, John. I´m okey now” you said with a reassuring smile which he returned as soon as he saw that you were telling the truth. Your bodies still close to one another you leaned in, waiting if he´d pull back. He didn’t, so you kissed him softly but with enough pressure so he knew you wouldn’t pull back any time soon. And you didn’t. Feeling his heartbeat underneath your palm going absolutely ballistic, you moved your lips with his with more and more passion. Changing from slow open mothed kisses to small little pecks. “Christ, woman” he breathed when you detached from him for a second. “Feel free to do that whenever you funkin´ want. Don´t have to ask just…Bloody Jesus, wake me from my deepest sleep if you have to.” He sounded breathless and even a little whiny. Your core clenching deliciously at the sound. Holy…

You giggled and sank your fingers into his thick brown hair, scratching his scalp. He leaned his head back into your hands, exposing his throat, grinning like a mad man and releasing a borderline sinful moan that made you break out in a sweat immediately. Still grinning he said “Love seeing you this way. So confident. So you. Sexy as all hell.” You smiled again when you lips descended to his throat and started nibbling. Little grunts and heavy breathing filled your ears, spiralling your own excitement higher and higher. There was no pressure, just feeling. There was no force, no hurry, no `let´s get this over with`. There was only him and you. His beard scratching your lips slightly as you trailed them up and down his jaw. His warm hands wandering along your sides while your legs were still locked around his torso. His deep, scratchy voice telling you how much he loved what you were doing. When your lips finally found his again he was a panting mess, immediately grabbing your face and leaning over you until your back nearly touched the island on which you were still perched.

A little whine escaped you and he suddenly seemed to remember where you were. He chuckled and straightened up again with you. He had a peculiar look on his face. One you couldn’t quite decipher yet. But one thing was sure. You loved it that he looked at you with that expression. It was wonderous and calm. Happy. “You want to take this to the couch?” you asked with a sly grin. His eyes shot open. “You sure, little one?” You nodded. “Very much. Want to be closer” you said dreamily. John seemed thunderstruck but slowly nodded his head. Without any type of effort, he moved from the island with you still clinging to him, rounding it and sitting down on your couch. “I´ll only go as far as you allow me” he said earnestly.

Your heart melted for this beautiful bear of a man. “I know” you said happily and started kissing him again. It was like your entire body was singing, buzzing and vibrating. Soon you weren´t just making out with him in his lap, your hands started wandering again. You trailed your fingertips over his sculpted chest and through the coarse hair. With a appreciative groan John took one more step and darted out the tip of his tongue, carefully liking your lip. A bolt of electricity went straight to your core and you could feel the wetness gathering in your panties. Without thinking twice about it you opened your mouth to him. It was like a floodgate was opened in your mind. All the possibilities on how to please him and yourself came rushing back to you, giving you a feeling of pure bliss. So many different things you wanted to do to him without the outcome always being immediate intercourse. The fun of exploring a man like him came back. First thing you realised: He fucking loved tangling his tongue with yours. Your lips were already a little swollen and red from his beard but the moment his tongue glided over yours, you would have sold every item you owned just to make him do it again. You didn’t even have to ask.

With a whispered “shit” against your lips he grabbed the back of your head and kissed you like a man starved. Maybe he was. You grabbed his neck as well and pushed his chest back with the other. Keeping the kiss going he leaned back fully into your couch and you got comfortable on his lap. How comfortable he was, you felt only a few moments after. Your hand wandering from his chest down over his stomach. The muscles clenching under your touch he carefully bit your lip. Releasing a sharp breath you chuckled and moved your hand again. With a click of his tongue he got hold of your hips in a vice like grip and pushed them forward towards his own. There it was. A low whining sound came from you when you felt his bulge rubbing insistently over your centre. Keeping your hips right there he started whispering. “Doin´ so good, my little minx. Bloody hell you feel so good. So soft, s´ all for me, yea?” You whined and nodded your head as he began nuzzling your neck. He chuckled darkly. “That´s it, little one. Move as much as you like. Ughn…like that. Jesus, I love it when you do that. Come on, sweet thing. Use me.” A long moan left your lips at that and you fully started to move your hips now. Back and forth your most sensitive area brushed against the material of his cargo pants.

John guided your movements more than he controlled them. Mesmerised he looked up at you, at your exposed throat while your head was leaned back, your heaving chest and moving hips. It took almost everything in him not to buck his hips. Wait, he told himself. Wait. His head was reeling and the erection in his pants almost uncomfortable. But he would be damned if he did anything more than you were comfortable with. Also, feeling your hot core being pressed rhythmically over his dick again and again gave him a sort of satisfaction he had almost forgotten. These feelings he had for you were something he had to sort out even before talking to you in the first place. They hit him like a ton of bricks the moment he first heard your sweet voice while you were on the phone, giving him a shy wave as you brought the last of your moving boxes into your apartment.

Completely flabbergasted of how his body was reacting to you he had dived into his own apartment and took several deep breaths after closing the door quickly. After that, the conversations he has had with you were highlights of his day as well as terrifying. Each one brought a new wave of affection towards you but at the same time the overwhelming urge to see you happy and safe under any circumstances. It was just in his blood, though he had never felt his sense of duty so heavily directed onto one person only before. And that made him nervous. Attraction, he knew. Raw, unfiltered need. Directed towards one person, for one night. Take the edge off, move on. Thinking about only taking the edge off with you almost made him sick. Fuck, no. No, you weren’t for one night. You were worth a lifetime of nights. Fully aware of what he just admitted to himself, he let himself fall into the moment.

He felt your hand move lower towards the button of his pants and hissed. You looked at him again, grinning and loving the way the flush on his face stretched down his neck and into his chest hair. You leaned closer to his face, lowering yourself onto his chest. While kissing his collarbone you again started to move your hips, faster this time. Moans and whispered praises filled the air as the both of you found a sensual rhythm. When you fingers brushed one of his nipples and a high pitched whine left his lips, you could feel his erection jump against your core. With a hazy mind you straightened up again looking at his completely blissed out face. Swollen lips, glossed over eyes, grabbing hands. More, you needed to feel more. So you did the next logical thing. Moving quickly and only hearing his breath stutter when he started moaning, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. Letting it fall next to you on the ground you could see the concentration return toJohn´s eyes. Having foregone your bra for the sake of comfort you were as bare to him as he was to you.

You could see where his eyes were trained, how he licked his lips, how he pushed himself into a more upright position. “God fuckin´ damn it, love. How are you this perfect, huh? Can I? Please…” he breathed looking directly at your chest. You shivered in his strong hold but breathily managed to say “Yes, John. Gods, please”…He didn’t hesitate. The moment his lips closed around one of your nipples while his hand held your other tit gently, you threw your head back and knew, you were utterly and completely at this mans mercy now and for once, that didn’t scare the shit out of you or made you want to run away. On the contrary. You pushed your chest closer to his mouth and he moaned against our nipple. “You taste incredible, little one. So funkin´ good for me. Move again, please. Please move.” You did without thinking. Moving your hips again you felt his push upwards with every stroke, eliciting little shocks of pure ecstasy throughout your whole body. Your skin felt like it was on fire when John began so move his hands all over your chest, switching his mouth to the other nipple. His tongue darted out and played with the hardened nub. Clenching around nothing, a new wave of arousal seeped into your pants and a slight sob escaped your lips. Immediately Johns eyes were trained on you, stopping everything. Whining when he stopped playing with your nipples and still moving your body above his, he got the hint and hummed his satisfaction before diving in again, licking his way down to your nipples.

Higher and higher the both of you spiralled and move after move, push after push you got closer to what you felt would be one of the most devastating orgasms of your life. “J-John” you hickuped trying to warn him. “John, I´m gonna…” “I know” he panted in an unusual high pitched voice. “I know, my love. ´M close as well. You can do it. ´M right there. Bloody…please, do it. Argh…fuck, yes” his grip around your waist became stronger when he began to push his hips up into you more forcefully. A sharp yell escaped you when his clothed dick perfectly bumped against your clit again and again with devastating precision. “John, fuck! There…it´s so good. Please, I´m almost there. Ah, ah!” He growled into your collarbone and bit down on it. That sent you tumbling over the sweet edge he pushed you towards. Clamping down violently, white hot pleasure shot through your spine up to your head and practically made you blind.

Not being able to make a sound anymore, you shivered in his arms, head thrown back, mouth open and struggling to take in air. John was under your spell. He was sure he had never in his life seen anything more beautiful than you struggling to breath because the pleasure he gave you made it difficult. He halted his own pleasure for a moment though it almost physically hurt, just to watch you and whispering to you. “So beautiful. You are so damn beautiful, love. All this shivering for me? That´s it, little one. It´s all right, I´m here. Doin´ so good.” He stroked your panting chest, pressing open mouthed, wet kisses along your neck towards your lips. Calming down somehow you leaned in and although you were still in need for more air, kissed him like your life depended on it. Wet sounds filled with little moans were the only thing you heard for a solid minute. His kiss deliberate and calming, a bit sloppy but utter perfection.

You were still in a blissed out haze but realised, “John,” you whined. He pulled you closer, gently placing his forehead to yours. “What is it? Are you all right?” You nodded and bit your lip. “You didn´t…why´d you stop? Don´t you want to…?” He sighed with a smile. “Awww, little bird. I couldn´t help myself. You looked so perfect when you came for me. I needed my focus on you, my love.” You couldn’t just let him hang like this. Gathering more clear thoughts you rolled your hips against him once more seeing him hiss and close is eyes shut. His hands immediately found their home on your hips again and guided you towards his favourite rhythm. Holding eye contact he began to breath heavily through his nose again. Holding onto his chest you let your hands wander towards his nipples. Brushing one carefully you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and a strangled sound came from his throat. His eyes were such a dark blue colour, they looked like the deepest of seas. They shone up at you in a challenging manner as you further increased the rhythm of your hips. His gorgeous lips parted and his tongue darted out to wet them for a second.

Raking your nails over both his nipples at the same time you felt his dick jump again and knew it was any moment now. “___,” he panted. “___, fuck! ´M about to come. Is that okey, hmm? Can you tell me, baby?” His eyes almost lost focus when you grinned and leaned down so your noses almost touched. While still playing with his nipples lightly you whispered, “It´s okey, John. More than okey. You can come. Will you? For me, please? I want it.” With that you tweaked one nipple and it happened instantly. With a loud shout he pushed his hips upwards, nearly knocking you off of him. His vice like grip prevented that from happening tough. “Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes!” Still moving his hips he threw his head back onto the back of the couch. The veins in his neck standing out while his chest expanded with every heavy breath he took. Four, five thrusts of his hips later he stilled. Eyes still closed, his grip loosening a bit. You admired his handsome features in detail, leaning over him and carefully kissing his face with featherlight touches of your lips.

He opened his eyes to look at you. You found nothing but pure bliss and adoration in them as he lifted his hand to your face, stroking his knuckles gently over your temple and down your cheek. Leaning into his touch you smiled lovingly at him and descended to kiss him fully on the mouth. He hummed in response and moved his lips with yours in the same sated, lazy manner. “You did amazing, love” he said dreamily. Giggling you leaned your head against his and felt his chest vibrate with his own laugh. “I have the best, most patient mentor in the world” you said. He hummed and began to stroke your bare back with his calloused fingertips. Relaxing completely, you sank lower to lay down on his chest.

Listening to his strong, calming heartbeat, suddenly you felt the rhythmic vibration of a phone call. “You´ve got to be fuckin´ jokin´” you heard John curse under his breath as he fished the small flip phone from his back pocket. When you tried to get up to give him some privacy, a very insistent hand pressed your head back onto his chest while you giggled. He answered in a deep, quick and professional voice. A voice that did not tolerate any type of unnecessary fuckery.

“Price! Yeah, Laswell?” Silence.

“Yes. When?” Silence.

“Understood” He hung up.

The phone fell to the couch to his side and his other hand moved to rake down his face while the other still played with your hair. “Do you need to leave?” you asked. He would tell you if your questions were unwelcome. You felt him sigh and a quiet “Yeah. Tomorrow” left his lips. You felt your heart sinking but also a deep connection to the man who made you feel so incredibly wanted. You would wait until he came back, for as long as you needed to. Just to feel him kiss you again one more time, touch you one more time. “It´s just a reckie tough. I´ll be back in a three days max. But,” he sighed again. “A reckie always follows a mission. I don´t know when-“

“I know, John. I can imagine” you said while playing with his chest hair. “I´ll wait.” You heard his heart stutter in his chest underneath your ear. Getting up you looked at him and found him staring at you almost disbelievingly. His blue eyes returned to their intense light blue colour and they shone with gratitude and something else you couldn’t lay your finger on. “Let me wait for you, please. You are…you´re wanted as well, John” you said with all the conviction you had in your body. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he just shook his head disbelievingly and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. Closing your eyes you let the feeling of his lips and tongue wash over you, making you comfortably numb. Tasting you he languidly stroked his tongue over yours, playfully nipping on your bottom lip and sighing contently. Your head was swimming, you heart drumming away and happiness made its way into every cell of your body.

“Stay here tonight” you pleaded softly against his lips. “Stay here with me.” He nodded instantly. “Yeah, love. Of course.” You smiled and brushed your nose with his affectionately. “Just need to get to my apartment for a sec” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. When you looked at him questioningly he chuckled. “You kind of made a mess of me and I need fresh boxers. Otherwise I´m not getting in your bed.” You snorted a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, erm…same here. I should clean up a bit as well.” He growled proudly deep inside his chest and squeezed you one more time. “Well then, up with you” he said and tapped your ass sharply. With a grin and a yelp you stood, although still reluctantly. He grinned as well and pulled you in by your waist once more. Happily you looked up at him. “Give me 3 minutes” he said and kissed the tip of your nose. Nodding you watched as we collected his shirt from the kitchen und walked out the door.

All clean and with fresh clothes he slid into your bed as if he had always belonged there. And it truly felt like it. Turning on his back he pulled you to his side. With a content sigh you rested your arm across his stomach and your head on his meaty shoulder. One leg thrown over his he chuckled when you pressed yourself as close to him as you could. “Little barnacle” he said in a sweet voice. You pressed your head to his neck and kissed his pulse point before relaxing and drifting off into a heavy sleep. “Thank you, darlin´” you heard him whisper into your hairline just as the heaviness of sleep dragged you under. Both of you drifting off with a smile.

________________________________________________________

Party 3 anyone? Maybe? ;)

As always thank you very much for reading. Please feel free to intercact with this post. Comments, likes and reposts are apreciated. Thank you, my lovelies <3

@mando-amando

@queenpinesofdomino

I don´t know if you wanted to be tagged but you reblogged the first part with some nice comments so I thought you might want to know about part 2. If you do not want to be tagged, please let me know and I will remove your @.

If anyone else wants to be tagged, please let me know :)

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lovieebby · 5 months

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okay so i lost the story/fic i was reading cus i fell asleep (i do this quite often dont @ me) & didn’t like it to save & WHEN I WOKE UP IT WAS GONE !! it was a Cap Price fic btw

also i dont remember the title & who wrote it (whoever did may i say it was FABULOUSLY DELICIOUS 🤤)

description below the cut pookies

it was a fic abt captain john price & the plot was abt how Lawswell hired a new fem!reader to take care of their paperwork & Price had taken quite some time warming up to reader & reader has some daddy issues & tries to hold back her crush for price **it had some hints of daddy/dom** its a slow burn & i fell asleep right at the good juicy stuff (bummer ik 😭)

& when she accidentally unloads all her issues onto Price cus he keeps dismissing her— poor woman jus needed to update their records & just needed some updated pics/info for their file— some things were said by reader & the reader got embarrassed & had walked away & took a few days off & when she came back from her lil self-care vaca, things were different; ppl from Prices team actually acknowledged her & started to go to her due to Price’s request

& i got to the part where they were talking thru it & the reader had made the ‘joke’ abt “you sound like you wanna be my daddy” & Price had flushed so so hard & reader was like ‘hehe what? why did i say that?’ lalala & was like nah bruh i meant that !

SO IF ANYONE HAS ANY IDEA WHAT FIC THIS IS LEMME KNOW !!! its been itching in my brain like a bugger & i just GOTTA KNOW HOW IT ENDSSS 😭😩

#help a girl out PLS #rlly should have liked/reblogged it #captain price fic #call of duty #captain price fic find

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criminalamnesia · 4 months

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everyone’s asking for a part two so here is more angst bc cedar by gracie abrams is perfect for this [ also inspired by what @shotmrmiller said in their reblog :)) ]

part one here

part three (aka version 1 of the ending) here

part three (ending version 2) here

it’s odd coming home to an empty house. unnerving, even. he doesn’t like it— dislikes it even more than he did your celebrations. fuck, he’d kill for those damn streamers right now.

“love?” his voice is soft as he calls out into the dark, once lively little flat. it hasn’t felt this big since before you had moved in.

he takes a few more steps inside, toeing off his boots and letting his backpack fall to the floor. by now, you would’ve been launching yourself into his arms. where were you? you’d never missed the day he came home. ever. you would have it marked on your calendar from the day he left, exclamation points and stars decorating the date.

“love?” he calls again, his voice a little louder. he keeps moving; notices there’s no smell of freshly baked goods or a home-cooked meal.

he rounds the corner, his eyes instantly finding the little note propped up on the dining table. eyebrows furrowed, he approaches. it’s addressed to him, clearly in your handwriting.

he reads it, and he really should’ve seen all of this coming.

he doesn’t cry. doesn’t even feel sad, really. it’s not like he hadn’t loved you— he had, but sometimes you made it really damn difficult to. your constant touches and words, doting on him, talking his ear off about this and that. he’d loved it at first, then came to tolerate it, and eventually he found himself hating it.

it wasn’t fair to you. he didn’t hate you, he hated the naivety. the unconditional love. partners were supposed to show each other that kind of love, were they not? so why did he come to despise it?

perhaps it was some deep rooted self-hatred. something dark and twisted inside of him that had done too much and taken life. killed and killed and killed. watched his comrades die in a number of ways. slowly. quickly. suddenly. brutally.

it hollowed him out, but it was his job. it was his job to do what he could for the damn world— get his hands dirty so people like you would never have to worry about a damn thing.

he should’ve seen it coming. you had been acting a little odd the last time he was home, he realizes now. detached, almost. quieter. he had cherished the quiet then.

now it was weird. he didn’t know how to feel.

he placed the note back down onto the table before making his way into the kitchen. some utensils were missing. some plates and bowls. the colorful dishrags you’d hung from the stove handle. the little plant you’d stationed in front of the window above the sink.

all the pictures of the two of you remained on the fridge. he could see in the photos how he slowly became detached. but you— god, you wore that dazzling smile in every photo.

he turned around and headed towards the bedroom.

——————————————————————

there wasn’t really any defining closure. you’d left the note, sure, but he hadn’t gotten to speak his piece.

would he have begged you to stay? told you to leave?

he didn’t know. all he knew was that it wasn’t fair to you, how he acted. what he did.

he also knew that if you called, or if you showed up and said you forgot something, or hell, if he saw you on the street, he’d say something. apologize at least, because that’s the least you deserved.

but you didn’t, and after a few days, he stopped thinking about you. what you’d be telling him right now if you were there. stopped thinking about how you sang when you cooked dinner. how you would reach for his hand when the two of you were in the grocery store.

how you would throw those damn ‘welcome home!’ parties.

he fell back into who he was, and your memory became nothing but a minuscule dot on a large piece of paper.

but for you? you had been miserable when you’d shown up at your friends apartment. cried into her shoulder as you told her about the note. sobbed as you realized that he didn’t care about you, and how you’d wasted so much time on this man who didn’t give a damn.

but even still, when you stirred in the middle of the night, you expected to feel his hands around your body. expected him to press a kiss to your head as you drifted back to sleep.

you woke up and expected him to be there. you forgot that he wasn’t yours. you found yourself missing him, even though you’d starting doing that far before you actually left.

it took the man you loved days to move on. it took you months— almost a year. he put you in fucking therapy, for god’s sake, because that shit messes with someone.

loving someone so completely, so wholly, only to finally realize it’s one sided? it’s crushing. he crushed you. but you picked up the pieces, and you put yourself back together.

you move on. find someone who actually cares for you— someone who communicates and doesn’t lose interest. someone who appreciates your enthusiasm. someone who returns it.

and when the man that broke your heart several years ago tries to stop you on the street one day,

you keep walking.

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 month

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Just Like Dad (4 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff

Word Count: 957

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Checking through his daughter’s backpack strikes up a difficult conversation.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Price has no idea where his daughter’s disorganization from, but it certainly isn’t him.

Opening her backpack, Price cringes at the mess. It’s all crushed papers, broken pencils, scattered crayons, and food wrappers. Sighing, Price turns the backpack zipper-side down, the contents crashing to the dining room table.

She is going to sit down tonight and organize this. No exceptions.

Frowning down at the wreckage, Price begins sorting through the papers, glancing at a few just to find some order in the chaos. He picks up a piece of paper and pauses, his gaze landing on the title.

All About Me reads the top of the page.

Price smiles as he starts to read over his daughter’s answers.

Favorite color? Blue.

Favorite animal? Dragon—all capital letters with lots of exclamation points.

Happiest memory? That one just says “ghostie tree.” Her teacher will have no idea what that means, but Price knows, and he laughs so hard he almost chokes.

Price’s daughter adores Simon, and whenever he’s around, she turns into a koala, hanging off every limb. It doesn’t matter if Simon is standing or sitting down. And how does Simon feel about it? He’ll act bored, like it hardly bothers him, but then he’ll strike, tickling her until she runs away screaming only for her to return minutes later to do it all over again.

Flipping it over, Price continues to read, pausing when he reaches information about parents and guardians. This is where he slows and observers her writing. She already filled stuff out about mom, and Price knows you’d get a laugh out of her answers, but the sections about him cool his amusement.

Her answers are idyllic versions of himself, nearly whimsical in the way she describes what he does and how proud she is that he is her father. That makes him ache, brings a tightness to his chest that pushes out all other feeling. Price is proud of his work, and of his career, but it is not a beautiful thing.

It is not sweet or kind or tender.

It is rough. It is hard.

It is heartbreaking.

He has lost so many people. So many good men and women. He’s done horrible things. Stained his palms with blood. These are difficult truths he faces every day.

But there are softer moments in his career of watching those he’s mentored be promoted, of victories and celebrations, of marriages and births, and of all those he’s worked with who have gone on to lead fulfilling, happy lives.

All of that, and this isn’t what stops him.

It’s her answer to the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I want to be like my dad.

Price sighs and sets the paper down on the table.

How does he respond to that? Should he even take the initiative? Should he approach the topic at all?

Price isn’t certain.

“Daddy.”

Price starts at his daughter’s voice. He turns. She’s standing just inside the archway to the living room. She has a perplexed look on her face as she glances between him and the mess on the kitchen.

“What’ve you done with my backpack?”

Price blinks, and then chuckles. “It’s a mess, love. We’ve taught you better.” Her face flushes slightly as she slowly walks up to the table. “You’re sitting down and going through this. No exceptions.”

She nods sheepishly.

Price picks up the questionnaire. “Want to talk about this? I have to sign off on it.”

Her flush grows deeper. “Did you read it?”

“I did.”

She looks up at him expectantly and Price waits a moment to see if she’ll say anything. She doesn’t.

“You said some nice things about me,” he says softly, and she beams. It reminds him of your smile, and that melts his heart down to his toes.

“It’s true,” she says brightly, happy that he’s mentioned anything at all.

“You want to be like me?” She nods. “And what do I do?”

She blinks. “Didn’t you read what I wrote?”

Price barks a laugh. “Yes, love. I did. But I want to hear it from you.”

She squares her shoulders and looks up at him with fierce determination. “You protect people. I want to protect people.”

True. But not entirely.

“How do you think I protect people?” He can see her brain processing the question and attempting to formulate an answer. She chews on her bottom lip, shoulders sagging slightly.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “But I know that you do. You protect me and mom.”

“That’s because you and your mother are mine to protect.”

Protect is not the right word. While his actions and the things that he does might prevent horrible things happening at a global level, doing so often results in pain and suffering. It’s just what happens even when he tries to prevent that.

“Can I not do that?” she asks.

“You can do whatever you want when you’re older.”

But military life? No. He doesn’t wish that for her, and it’s not because she’s a girl. He’d feel the same if she has been born a son. No parent wants to see their child in potential danger. Doesn’t matter what age.

“So I can be just like you?”

He wants to say “no,” but instead diverts the question elsewhere. “You can’t be anything if you don’t organize this backpack.”

She groans and starts rummaging around in the mess.

Price kisses the top of her head. When he glances up, you’re standing in the archway, a soft smile on your face. Did you hear the whole conversation? Or just the end?

You stride forward and reach out. Price meets your outstretched hand, threading his fingers with yours.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @nelladowney @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair

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makoodles · 6 months

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ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups.

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you.

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now.

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly.

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway.

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy.

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it.

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head.

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock.

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you.

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly.

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling.

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying.

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving.

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented.

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria.

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac’s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve.

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife.

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off.

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you.

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again.

Well. Okay, then.

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That’s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk.

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She’s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go.

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things.

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?”

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words.

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice.

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused.

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee.

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure.

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch.

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing.

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged.

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs.

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return.

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming.

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else.

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily –

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face.

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him.

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs.

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy.

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious.

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering.

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy.

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static.

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent.

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside.

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you.

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him.

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in.

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much.

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today.

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach.

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness.

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest.

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him.

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

#PLEASE don't look at me right now i will be taking NO questions on my state of mind #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod fic #141 x reader #daddy issues price

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blingblong55 · 11 months

Text

Our needs- John Price, Soap MacTavish NSFW

Based on a request:

I suddenly have an obsession over our two Johns, Soap and Price. Idk what to do about it besides Werewolves fucking a Witch reader who accidentally trespassed on their territory while they're in a rut. G O O D B Y E

F!reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, threesomes, werewolf au, witch au, mfm, one shot

Soap is the young pup in Price's team to turn into his werewolf self. Price remembered what happened before when he let Ghost and Gaz on base when they were turning for the first time. And he won't let that same mistake happen to Soap, so after asking Laswell for hours on end, he and Soap made it to the cabin. It has been abandoned for about five months. Price thinks he lives alone with no one around for hours. That is until you built a cottage just on the outskirts of his land.

Whilst creating a new tea mix from your spell book, you found you needed an ingredient, special flowers found in the land of your neighbour. Since you didn't want to intrude during daylight hours, you waited until sundown. Soap has been roaming the land under the supervision of Price, growls and howls heard through the forest. You sneaked to the back of their cabin, where the flowers were at. Price knew that scent, a woman was near. Since Soap's abilities are heightened, he too would know a woman was near. "Fuck.." Price murmured the second Soap started to run towards the cabin, he too followed, trying to keep the intruder safe.

Your scent is rich and sweet, addicting to both men, by the time they got close to the cabin, the full moon was in motion. Turning Price into the beast he is. When a young pup is turning, he or she will be wanting to mate, to claim one for themselves, unlucky for you, they both needed you, young or not, Price wanted to rub his scent on you. You picked the flowers, holding them in a small wicker. You heard a branch break, head looked towards the noise. Soap walked to you, nose sniffing you, a smirk on him. Price was right behind, "huge mistake you made, little one."

"Look I know I trespassed, but I was just here for an ingredient I needed, I'll leave now." you tried to get passed the two men. Soap approached you, nose on the soft skin of your neck. "I need 'er, Price." You froze, the full moon, two men in the woods, their hairy chests and hands touching you, fucking werewolves. "Come with us.." it was not a suggestion but a command. If only you had the right ingredients for that protection spell.

"And if I don't?"

"Any other thing that passes by will hear how we take you, right here right now. You wouldn't want others to see how we fuck right into you, right?" Price took your hand and you let him guide you inside. To be honest, you kinda wanted this, the unexpected danger and fun of letting two men their size, take you. Soap took your wicker, letting it on the porch as the three of you walked into the cabin. Price undressed you with his eyes while the young pup took action. Lips on your neck, tongue claiming the sweet soft spots of your collarbones. Slowly, Price undressed you, taking you to the sofa, setting you down and getting in his tongue in between your legs.

Soap smirking down at you, your eyes plea to him, wanting him to have mercy on you. Your bare breasts move a little as Price tongue fucks you, your moans and doe eyes directed to Soap. He begins by spitting in your mouth, then his long and thick cock parts your lips, your tongue caressing his hard length. He groans, turning into a werewolf is no longer as painful as Ghost and Gaz made him believe it was. Price and Soap look at each other, each nod and then flip you over. Like the beasts they are, one slips their hardened cock in you, the other in your mouth, fucking into you hard, leaving your throat and raw cunt aching.

You moan loudly, and both men smile, knowing you are taking them with so much bravery. Soap's hand on your head, pushing himself further into your sweet little mouth. Price slapping your raw ass, occasionally kissing your back, his salvia mixing with your sweat. Your sweet scent rubbed on both men. Price pulled out, which caused you to whimper. Soap too pulls out of your mouth, pre-cum and drool falling out of your mouth.

"Soap, c'mon, you and I take 'er at the same time.." He makes you stand up, limbs weak trying their best to stay still. Finally, his captain was making sense. Soap smiles, knowing you wouldn't be able to walk after they were done with you. Price in your tight ass while the young pup was in your wet cunt. One of your legs on Soap's side, Price's hands on your waist, soaps on your hips. Both men make you bounce on their needy cocks.

Both men moaned in your ear, soap at times would nibble on your hardened nipples. Price leaving lasting bite marks on your shoulder and neck. Your thighs, neck, shoulder and chest are littered with their marks. Each fighting for more territory. They wanted to mark you and rub their scent on you so other beasts would know you belonged to them. Both men not being able to control themselves, their cum leaking from you as Soap begins to toy with your clit, looking at you with so much hunger.

A smirk on him as he watched how you closed your eyes, back arching into Price's chest. His hand is on your neck, forcing you to arch further, your lips meet, and he kisses you with passion and desire. Soap continues to thrust in you, at times he would pinch and nibble on your nipples, causing you to moan into the kiss with Price. Once he was done kissing you, he pushed your back forward, making you lean as he knew another orgasm of his is close.

Price stays still, letting his cock jerk as his sticky and warm cum leaks through you. Soap and Price stretch your holes, dragging louder moans from you. Their thick and long cocks make your holes ache, and you lean back, feeling weak. The windows of the cabin get foggy, sweat dripping from your three, their scent on your skin, your small body against theirs, bouncing on their large cocks. "Please…." you finally let out only to be hushed with a kiss from Soap.

"This is what you get for trespassing, sweet one." Price's voice is low and raspy. Their little witch turned into a little cum slut for them.

Tags: @anonymuslydumb

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raffe156 · 1 year

Text

All Ghillied up and nowhere to go

Pairing - Price X MC (Tank) F!reader

Summery - Price teaches Tank how to blend in…

A/N- Just a little nsfw Drabble for an anon ask, also don’t worry Breakaway state part 5 is still in the works 😘

Warnings - Smut (18+) Voyeurism, Language, Age gap Price (38) Tank (26) Dom!Price, Brat!Tank, Sir kink, praise kink, unsafe sex, p in v, knife play and cock warming if you squint like really hard!

✨As always comments and feedback welcome ✨

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank

Tags: @fanficandartgal @deadbranch @soapyghost @shuttlelauncher81 @a-littlebirdie @boomtowngirl @chb-7 @noxspellxbound @brewed-pangolin

Sorry if I missed anyone❤️

——————————————

“Why am I doing this again?” You rested your cheek on the butt of your rifle.

“For god sake….I’ve told you…you need to “blend” in better! You shift about too much!” Price was losing his patience with you now.

“….blend in better? I’m dressed in tall fucking grass and weeds…in tall fucking grass and weeds how much more do I need to blend in?!” You dropped your head resting your forehead on the cold ground. The wind whistled around you. You didn’t even know where Price was but the clarity of the comms meant he was close by. The training field was silent apart from the wind.

“We’ve been out here for ages now..the suns setting..I think I’m pretty undetectable, send Soap out to try an spot me…” your voice was mocking.

“How about I send Ghost out?”

“……”

“I’ll take that as a no then kid? Start crawling back to me” his voice gravelly over the comms

“…I don’t even know where you are…are we done, I feel like we are done? can’t I just stand up?” You lifted your head, pushing yourself up but just as your shoulder came level with the grass you felt a sharp shot hit it. It didn’t hurt but you felt it. You looked down at the little blue ball.

“Did you just shoot me?…with a BB gun?” You rolled the little ball between your finger an thumb. You turned your face towards the direction it had come from.

“Yeh…a warning shot because if I was the enemy that would of been a real bullet also I would of shot you in the head….get back down” you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“Fuck sake…taking the piss now” you muttered under your breath…he wasn’t that close to hear that surely.

“I’m taking the piss? Your the one pissing about Tank…get your fucking arse out of the air and get your body down to the ground or I will shoot you again…” he sounded close now, an he would shoot you, but you never did know when to stop.

“Thought you liked my arse in the air sir? Said it’s one of your favourite sights…” you smirked.

“….you being funny sergeant? Because I will wipe that smirk off your face…” his voice was louder now, he was close.

“I’d like to see you try sir…” you were baiting him now.Silence. You scanned your surroundings he should be north west of you, unless…you heard a shift behind you,but before you could turn over you were dragged back by you ankle.

“I did warn you…” Price growled in your ear. He had pulled you right back to him. He was practically on top of you.

“Your all talk…John” you didn’t turn your head to look at him, suddenly you could feel him unclipping the straps to the lower half of your ghillie suit.

“What are you doing? Does the fresh air an grease paint do it for you?” You laughed, but your head was pushed down low to the ground your cheek in the dirt once again.

“Ah fuck…” it took you by surprise, but rough Price only made the odd appearance, you must of really wound him up. You heard the soft ching of a knife being unsheathed and your eyes flashed panic, had you wound him up that much?

“John…what are you doing?” You tried to turn your head towards him.

“Stay still….very still” He growled in your ear again, as he used his knife to cut the seam of your pants, his intentions made clear you relaxed your body as you felt him finish the job with his hand.

“You’re not wearing any knickers? Can’t say I’m surprised…” He licked his thumb and pressed it to your folds, it easily slipped inside, causing a slight moan from you.

“Well that wasn’t difficult was it? I think the fresh air an grease paint does it for you aswell kid…or is it the thought of your Captain fucking you in a field?” He peered over your face just enough for you to see his eyes, the dark camouflage paint making them stand out.

“Abit of both sir…” you could feel his thumb thrusting into you slowly, you were leaking all over his hand. Your head was getting fuzzy, you could no longer hear the wind or the birds, just the wet sounds of his thumb inside you and the sound of your heart beat as it drummed into the ground. You felt Price shift and remove his thumb. You let out a groan, you hoped he wasn’t just teasing you, you wouldn’t make it back to base.

“You ready to put your training to the test Tank?” he removed his hand from your head to pull his zipper down. You could feel the head of his cock at your entrance. You didn’t need to be told to lift your hips up, it made him chuckle.

“Good girl” Price huffed as he slid inside, your walls adjusting around him. He placed himself right ontop of you, the weight of him pushing you down fully flat. His cock buried deep inside. He completely covered you his head right next to yours. You expected him to start thrusting but no he lay completely still, his cock pulsing inside you. Before you could question him, he snaked his arm under yours to position your face upwards to look through the tall grass, you mouth fell open as soon as you clocked what he was showing you…Ghost an 4 rookies were 300feet away from you.

“Told you I’d send Ghost out…now let’s see if you can blend in an not get caught eh?” As he spoke he began thrusting, strong, fast thrusts at first, it made the coils in your stomach tighten with each one he was dragging at your walls. It made your eyes roll back, you had to slap your hand over your mouth if Ghost didn’t see you first he would of heard you.

“Who’s getting closer? You or Ghost?” Price whispered in your ear. It caused a shiver up your spine an made your walls contract around him. He slowed his thrusts right down almost painfully slow…two of the rookies were a few feet away, Ghost had gone east with the other two.

“Keep yah head still, it’s gone be close” he whispered lowering both his head and yours as the rookies walked right past you. The suspense was agonising, but your walls were still fluttering around Prices cock which only seem to get harder. When you were sure it was clear you moved your hips under him, desperate for any form of friction or movement, Price gave in his thrusts rampant an deep, you moans came out strangled and restrained but your orgasm was bliss as you panted for Price to cum inside you, he grit his teeth burying his head into your shoulder as he filled you to the brim.

“Ahhh ahh fuck…have they gone back to base?” You turned your head to look.

“Not all of em Ghost is still in range…wouldn’t surprise me if he’s spotted us…” Price grumbled.

He was right the 4 rookies had wandered far away, but Ghost hung back his body turned to your location…surely he hadn’t spotted you…

“You two done fucking around out here?”

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mlmxreader · 1 year

Text

The Things We’ll Miss | John Price x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hi! I'm requesting the "If I give you half my cigarette, will you shut up?" prompt for Captain Price? Price lets the reader take a hit of one of his cigars. Thank you and I love reading your pieces!

summary: you and Price get a chance to sit down and be with one another while you wait to be shipped out

tws: smoking, swearing

‘Theatre Of Blood’ was playing on the television as Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Perveen, Pahwa, Cohen and Bashar crowded around it while they struggled to sit comfortably on the harsh tiled flooring; blankets around their shoulders as bowls and plates of snack foods and cans of everything from San Miguel to Red Bull were dotted between them all. In three days, you were all expected to be shipped off to some territory far away, a mutual effort between task force one four one and the RAF was far from a common occurrence, but whenever it was needed, your squadron would always hunker down with them while at base, as not only did it boost morale and not only did it allow for the bond between the task force and the squadron to strengthen, but it also gave you an excuse to be with your boyfriend for a while. It had been going on for so long now that it felt less like a way to make things easier and less of a way to keep high command off of your backs, and more like a tradition; more like sitting around and staying with family for someone’s birthday party, more like spending time with brothers and cousins and nephews and uncles. You looked upon the lads with great fondness for a moment, up until Price beckoned you to sit with him.

He had been sat towards the back of the room, sitting at an old oak table with old wooden chairs, a glass ashtray resting beside a cup of black coffee; he smiled when you decided to sit on his lap, resting against him as you lit up a cigarette and hummed quietly. He didn’t need to say anything, putting an arm around you as he fiddled to get his phone out of his pocket; immediately checking the score from Liverpool’s latest match. He preferred it when it was like this anyway, when things were quiet except the playful bickering between the joint forces, no need to worry about gunfire and anti-aircraft weapons; he could relax properly, he could actually enjoy the time that he was spending with you and the others - not quite one big happy family, but almost certainly something close to it without a doubt. You tugged the ashtray a little closer, and used it as an excuse to steal a swig from his drink before ashing your cigarette. Price couldn’t help but to smile, dipping his hand under your shirt so that he could feel your skin against his own, so that he could be reminded that you were really right there with him, that for the next few days, you could actually be together without a single issue or a single worry or anything of the sort.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he admitted quietly, taking your cigarette and stealing a drag as he shook his head. “All us lot, sat here an’ watching shit telly.”

You nodded in agreement, taking another quick look at the boys all sprawled out on the floor, bickering and making the absolute worst puns and jokes as they watched the film; but then you felt Price’s thumb gently graze your skin, and you were reminded of what you were going to really miss when you were finally shipped out. “Won’t lie, I’m gonna miss sitting with you more than anything else, John.”

Price hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder as he cleared his throat, watching as you stubbed your cigarette out in the ashtray and stole another swig of his coffee; it was such a small and stupid thing, but if he was honest, he would miss only ever drinking half a cup. “Now, Flight Lieutenant, don’t think about that - we’ll still see each other when we’re out there, you know that.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same,” you pointed out. “It’s never the same when we can hardly fucking hear each other because some stupid cunt has set off an RPG right as we’re sitting down for dinner.”

He didn’t want you to think too much about it, didn’t want you to stress yourself out like you did the last time, so he pulled a cigar from his pocket, and he swallowed thickly before he dared to light it, using the clipper lighter he had bought you ages ago, the one with the Union Jack on it. “If I give you half of my cigar, will you shut up?”

“No,” you chuckled, taking it from him and stealing a few drags before you passed it back. “Ta.”

“Only half, mind,” Price warned you softly. “I paid good money for these, you can’t nick the whole lot.”

“Now, John,” you whined playfully. “Do you think so little of me?”

“Yes, Flight Lieutenant,” he grinned, daring to gently kiss your neck. “I think that little of you, because I know what you’re like… you’re a crafty bugger when you know you can get away with it.”

You scoffed, pretending to be offended as you moved so that you were straddling his waist, your hands on his chest as he kept his arm firmly around you, sniffling as he cleared his throat; he leaned back a little, the light catching his facial hair and bringing out the slowly increasing grey speckles that hid amongst the dark brown. He never looked so fucking handsome as he did in that moment. “Then maybe you shouldn’t let me get away with it all the time.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Price hummed, chewing at the inside of his lip for a moment. “Maybe I oughta start making sure that you don’t get to be so fuckin’ crafty all the time, eh?”

“I’d like that,” you told him, a certain glint in your eye and a teasing tone to your voice that made him clench his jaw as he held the cigar for you, waiting for you to take it and to steal another part of your share. “Thank you, Captain.”

He was glad that you were no longer thinking of the things that you would miss, that you were no longer thinking of the worst case scenarios and that you weren’t worrying about things far beyond your control; he was glad that he could take your mind off of those things, even just for a little while.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don’t wanna reblog, then you’ll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM.

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firsttimewriter92 · 1 year

Text

To be injured

Captain John Price x f!reader Part 1/5

Summary: Your handsome neighbour is back and you decide to do something nice for him. This gesture ends up with you actually patching him up and him, involuntarily, opening up old wounds. But both of you are determined to explore the way you feel for each other.

Warnings: patching up wounds, angst, hurt/comfort, intimacy problems, hints of past sexual trauma, toxic ex (please, please don´t read it if these trigger you, I mean it), touch starved reader, fluff, hints of sexual innuendos, fluffy ending

Part two is out: To be healed, check it out ;)

Wordcount: 4.599

„Come on, come on…“ you mumbled while fishing for your keys. You tried to balance the heavy bag of groceries on one knee, failing, stumbling, cursing and trying yet again. “Aha!” you exclaimed victoriously as you finally got hold of your keychain and opened your apartment door with a huge grin. It´s the little achievements. Especially after a very tiring day at your work. You were looking forward to a nice evening, cooking your favourite pasta dish, drinking wine and playing video games. Heavily you set down the groceries onto your kitchen island and began storing everything away. While your JBL Box played Nick Lowe´s The Beast in Me, you took a refreshing shower. Clad in an impossibly fluffy dark green bathrobe and your wet hair plastered around your face you started to prepare dinner. You got the sauce going and while it was happily simmering away you started up your gaming console.

Suddenly, you heard a loud bang right outside your front door and some muffled cursing. Your heart picked up quickly. But not out of fear. You knew who that was. The deep dark timber of his voice even recognisable through the door. He was back! John Price. You had met him several times since you moved into your new home nearly a year ago. He was a quiet neighbour. Maybe because he was away for work most of the time. You didn´t exactly know what he did, you never asked. But he always came back exhausted, battered and bruised. You had your suspicions of what his occupation might be. If you were right however, you´d do well not to ask too many questions. The two of you had shared some nice conversations across the hall or at the laundromat. Every time, one or both of you were quite reluctant to get back into your respective apartments. At least you were reluctant every time.

John Price was devastatingly handsome. Given, you had never met a man with a beard like his and you found it a little old fashioned but it didn´t take away from the deep cerulean swirl of his eyes, his beautiful lips or sinful voice. Yea, you had it bad for him. It didn´t hurt either that he was build like your filthiest dreams come true. Broad shoulders, his arms defined and strong. A light dusting of hair on his forearms. You were still mentally drooling thinking about his meaty thighs and his narrow waist. More than once you wondered in the late ours of the night how it would feel to wrap your legs around it. Shaking your head to try and keep your mind from going places, you huffed a laugh at yourself and checked on your food.

You knew what you wanted to do. Every time John came back home, he was only in his apartment for maybe an hour before leaving to go get groceries. The man deserved a nice cooked meal when he came home from wherever. You cooked your pasta and put together a portion with sauce and some parmigiano riggiano on the side. With your container in hand, you grabbed your keys and opened your apartment door. Your stomach doing somersaults you crossed the hallway and knocked on John´s door. You heard something moving behind the door and then silence. You almost thought he wouldn´t open the door but then the lock clicked and it swung open. There he stood and your heart sank uncomfortably. Battered and bruised again, worse than you had seen yet. He wore a black T-shirt that hugged his bulging form perfectly but also reveiled his arms. Several bandaged cuts and scrapes adorned them. He looked a little guiltily at you when you let out a small startled breath.

“John” you began, looking him in the eyes. “You´re back” you whispered. He smiled. Small and kindly at you and nodded. “Good evening,___” he said calmly. “I was making dinner and thought you might…you´ve been gone for a while so I thought….you´re hurt!” He chuckled a little at your stammering and leaned his shoulder to the doorframe crossing his arms across his chest. “Just a few scrapes, nothin´ too bad” he said lowly. You nodded nervously and again let your eyes wonder across his body. This time though not to appreciate but because you worried.

Suddenly you remembered why you even came to his door. Blushing furiously you lifted the still warm container and said “Pasta. I made pasta and I thought you should have something to eat when you get home. The shops are closing soon.” He stood tall again and took the dish from you. His face showed slight bewilderment. His eyes were opened wider than normal and his eyebrows were slightly raised. “That´s awfully thoughtful of you,__. Thank you” he said almost in awe. Your heart sang and you had a silly little grin on your face. “No worries. Erm…enjoy” you said and were turning around. “___,” John said your name quickly. You turned again, seeing him looking almost nervous himself rubbing his neck with his free hand. “There´s…There´s one spot”, he gestured with his patched up arm. “I can´t reach it. It´s bleeding though. Would you mind terribly-“ “Absolutely not, I´ll help!” you quickly answered. He still looked a little uncomfortable but stepped aside.

You entered his apartment without a second thought. Only helping him, patching him up in mind. His apartment was clean and to your surprise and joy, stuffed with books. He had a huge bookcase adorning one complete wall top to bottom. Some of them were even stacked on the floor. It was cosy and warm.

You could already see medical supplies strewn across his coffee table, so you made your way over to the couch. When you turned around yet again to tell him to sit down, you saw he was already looking intently at you. It was like being trapped, but in a way you would gladly be trapped for ages. Time began to slow down, you heart thumping like thunder in your chest when he moved again. Slowly coming over to you, holding your eyes with his. He looked so gently at you it was hard to tell if he even felt the cuts on his skin. He placed the food on his respective kitchen island, took three long strides and came to a stop right in front of you.

He was taller than you, so when you leaned your head back to look at his face you could see his beard from up close. Some little streaks of grey were already visible but you couldn´t care less. It looked so soft. All you wanted was to feel it on the tips of your fingers, your lips…”It´s on my back” he whispered. You nodded your head. “Shirt” you barely squeaked out. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he stepped back a little and with a strained hiss lifted his shirt over his head. If you didn´t know that you were about to see his injury, your body would react differently. Even knowing that you were about to patch him up, denying that he was worth drooling over was futile. It was as you had imagined. A wide chest with strong pectorals, dark chest hair creeping down his muscles and disappearing into his sweatpants. You were surprised to see that he didn´t have the defined abbs you always envisioned. It was a softer version, perfectly accentuating his narrow waist. All too quickly you had to avert your eyes again as his shirt fell to the ground.

He looked at you a bit sheepishly and you smiled at him. He huffed a little embarrassed and turned around. “Holy fuck, John!” you exclaimed almost angrily. Your head and mind immediately sobered up from the heavy hue of attraction and pining. “Why are you not in hospital? That´s not a scratch, that´s a gash!” Right underneath his left shoulder blade was a deep cut. It wasn´t very big or long but it looked very painful. “No need for a hospital, love. I´ve been injured worse. Just use the…erm…the glue.” Not questioning him you nodded and got to work. You had no idea if what you were doing was right, but there were logical points to follow. So you did. He didn’t interrupt you, standing still like a statue even when you began to disinfect the wound. His freckled skin was soft and warm under your touch.

When you finished and sealed the glued shut cut with a bandage, your hand hovered over it for a second longer. “All done” you said softly. He turned his head first, then his whole body. “Thank you, sweetheart” he rumbled. “No problem” you said and swished your hand in front of your face dismissively. “No, I mean it” he said with a stern and honest voice. He was standing in front of you and slowly lifted his hand taking yours in his. You felt the roughness of his fingers enveloping yours and a bolt of electricity ran through your arm. You had to close your eyes for just a second to gather your thoughts again. ��Not everyone just patches up their neighbour without asking questions and even cooks them dinner. I´m a lucky man.” Damn him and his smile. You felt like any moment you would dissolve into a puddle. “Would you like to join me for dinner?” he asked hesitantly.

Suddenly you felt your stomach drop. He was still holding onto your hand but dropped it when he saw your hesitant face. “I…I should really go to bed….it´s late and you must be exhausted. I´ll get out of your hair.” He looked at you quizzically but nodded his head. Embarrassment filled your lungs when you made your way to your door, opened it and vanished into your own apartment.

__________________________________________________

John just stared at your closed door with a feeling of nervousness and regret. You were an enigma to him and he was utterly drawn to you. Your sweet and caring nature, your bubbly personality such a stark contrast to what he was. It could never be, he knew that. And still, every now and again (recently more often then not) his nights were filled with the thought of you. And tonight there you went again. Completely making him act out of character, making him feel warm and welcome. You patched him up, for crying out loud and didn´t even ask questions. You cooked him dinner!

Ruffling his hair and pulling his hand over his face he turned and returned to his open living space. Heating up the pasta you made for him, he mused about what could have changed your demeanour so much. Did he make you uncomfortable by holding your hand? By all the gods, he wasn´t able to stop himself. He felt like he was about to lose his mind if he didn’t feel your skin on his again at that moment. Was it his dinner invitation? Probably. He couldn’t think of anything else. She had seen and tended to his injury without blinking an eye, so that wasn’t it either.

One bite into the pasta and his eyes rolled back while an appreciative moan left his lips. That must be the best thing he has ever eaten in the last couple of years. He felt his chest expand with warmth and gratitude and shortly after constrict with uncertainty. Practically inhaling your delicious pasta and getting ready for bed, he made a decision. Tomorrow he would bring back your container and try to find out what happened.

Whilst staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, he was more sure every second, that he wanted more of you. More of your time, more of your sweet smile, more of your touch. If he didn’t completely misread the situation, and he was pretty sure you were as infatuated as he was, he should at least try to make it right. Years in the military had not only taught him how to read people but also not to let go once he had a certain feeling about something. He sighed deeply and turned on his side. He knew he should stay away. Not get you involved. But the way his heart squeezed thinking about your expression when you left….No, he couldn’t let it go like that. He would talk to you in the morning.

____________________________________________________

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, shaking your head and mentally cursing yourself. Your hand still tingled from his touch and you were sure, absolutely sure that you wanted him to be the one to help you. Cure you from overthinking his intentions, cure you from pining for his touch so badly you almost broke into tears when he held your hand. It was frustrating, so frustrating. You almost forgot what it felt like to be held, touched gently or even intimately without the other person waiting to state their want. Your past partner had the habit of only giving you the sort of affection you wanted when he either relented with an eyeroll or wanted something bigger from you. At the end it was so bad that he only touched you or became intimate with you when he had to excuse one of his many flaws. You caught him lying? He cried and hugged you tight to his chest. You mentioned you wanted to spend time together? He complained the whole evening about your choice of restaurant. He forgot about every plan you or he made, so you had to constantly run after him? He said sorry by giving you what he starved you of. Intimacy. Stability. Sex. The only thing that you thought was solid prove he still wanted you. In the end he even verbally spat in your face. Those were pity fucks,___! It´s so pathetic that you always throw yourself at me whenever I want you to. You can never say no, can you? What´s up with that?

Angry tears made their way down your face. It had been four years since then and you did the work. Did the healing. The tears were more directed at your anger. How did you let it come to this? When was the moment you decided that walking over you like this was alright? Although you since grew a stronger backbone and were doing really well for yourself (independence and all that good shit), you still caught yourself overthinking small gestures from men. Usually you ignored them but with him? With John, it was too important to ignore. You needed to work on that! You wanted his touch. You needed these thoughts redirected. With a determined feeling in your gut, you washed your face once again and got into bed. When you were comfortable and warm you yet again thought of his crinkling eyes, warm smile and gorgeous features. You felt the negativity leave your body and you really hoped that your awkward leaving wouldn’t stop him from talking to you tomorrow. You were determined to make things right. No longer would you let your former partners words determine whether you took your chance or not. He was worth it! You were sure of it. John was different. He was kind. You would talk to him in the morning.

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The next morning you felt more nervous than you had ever felt. Somehow you had to explain your exit last night without telling him too much about you past. Great. Coffee first. You sleepily made your way over to your kitchen and started the coffee machine. The calming sound of grinding beans filled your living space and you almost missed it. Three knocks on your door. Oh no, ohhhh no, you weren´t ready yet. And in your pyjamas still. If you didn´t open the door though he would surely see it as a rejection. He damn sure heard the coffee machine going. “One sec” you yelled towards the door while in a hurry trying to find something to wear over your tank top. Was that a chuckle outside your door? Hurriedly you pulled a beige, woollen sweater over your head and scrambled over to your door. Checking the state of your hair in the mirror in your small hallway you saw that, as usual, it was a mess. Sighing but giddy at the same time you opened the door. Crap, crap, crap, crap…..

The small grin he wore on his lips made your knees buckle. “Good morning” he drawled. Again he was wearing a black shirt that seemed way too tight, stretching over his arms and chest. His jeans however seemed comfortably loose although not being able to hide his massive thighs all that well. Swallowing you looked him in the eyes and tried a small smile. “Your pasta? Most delicious thing I´ve ever eaten” he said in an appreciative tone. You felt your cheeks burn like fire. “I´m really glad you liked it.” He nodded and held the clean container in front of him. “Just wanted to return that”, he said. Your throat constricted. Of course he was only here for that. He wasn´t interested in any explanation. You tried to look unaffected. “Yeah, right. Thanks” you said and took the container from him, looking anywhere but him. Suddenly, he took a deep breath. “I don´t know what happened yesterday but if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way, please let me apologise” he rushed out. Your head snapped up to look at him and the guilty look on his face made your stomach clench.

“Would you like to come in?” you asked, trying to sound not too timid. His eyes grew wide and unsure. “Only if you want me to.” You smiled wider now and stepped aside to let him in. This conversation needed to happen. Grow some balls,___. He came inside and looked around. “So Cosy” he said with a smirk. “I like the décor.” You giggled a little and got another mug from the cupboard. “Coffee?” you asked and swung the mug in front of you. “The moment you´ll ever hear me say no to coffee, you might as well shoot me.” His voice was playful now. Playful John Price, gods help me! It made you feel so at ease. Huffing a laugh you gestured for him to take a seat at your kitchen island and turned to make his coffee.

Smiling at your back he carefully sat down at one of the high chairs not being really sure if it would hold him well. Leaning onto the island he really tried hard not to let his eyes wander over your figure. To no avail as he realised. His eyes were already trained on your neck, your waist and hips. Trailing downwards he swallowed when his eyes stopped at the exact spot your thighs peeked from your sleep shorts. Damn, he was trying to find out what he did wrong, what spooked you so much last night and here he was, ogling again. When you turned around with a pleasant smile on your face his eyes immediately snapped to your face. Beautiful, he thought.

“I´m guessing black?” you said cheerfully. He laughed out loud. A joyous, boisterous sound that made your heart jump. “You would´ve guessed absolutely right, love. Am I that transparent?” His tone was friendly and an little teasing and goosebumps erupted on your skin as a result. Grinning, you pushed the mug towards him and took your own in hand. Taking a sip and watching him do the same, the low appreciative hum that came from his throat stirred something inside your belly. Something you had almost forgotten. The sheer pull and need to hear that again. Maybe invoked by something different than coffee. Your thighs for example…Jesus, get a grip! But you were already on cloud nine at this point. You felt elated by the fact that you could just be attracted to him. Not questioning his little flirtatious attempts and what he might try to get with them. You just…enjoyed him. And that alone made your confidence spark like fireworks.

“I´m sorry about me just bolting yesterday” you said while warming your hands on your mug. His eyes snapped up at you and he shook his head a little. “Let me explain, please” you said quickly and watched his response glide down his throat again while he sat up and nodded encouragingly.

You leaned against the island and took a deep breath. “It had nothing to do with you or your injury, I promise you.” He looked a little disbelieving but didn´t interrupt you. “I have…Sometimes I get really jumpy when someone…touches me.” He closed his eyes and made a small sound, like he was kicking himself. “I´m so, so sorry-“ he started. “Don’t, John. Please. It´s not your fault. I mean…you´re not the cause of it.” He looked at you curiously. “We all have our histories, John. Mine just happens to end up with me having trouble accepting fond gestures. Doesn´t mean I don´t want them. It´s contradicting, I know. And it pisses me off sometimes that my body reacts the way it does. That fondness and all that is so-“ “Overwhelming” he finished your sentence in a low voice but clear for you to hear. You nodded, wondering when he would get up and leave. When he would decide that it was too much of a hassle.

He was quiet for a long time but never broke eye contact with you. You didn´t feel uncomfortable by it. It was more like a quiet conversation. His eyes were warm and understanding. Trying to make you understand something you couldn´t quite grasp yet.

“I´m in the military. When I leave, it´s for missions. Any kind.” His answer was so pure, simple and honest, you simply nodded because it did explain what it needed to explain. But still he spoke again. “So when you say you are overwhelmed by fond touches, most of the time it´s the same for us. Just…we´re overwhelmed because the touches never come or we just have no time or sense to seek them out, not because we expect something bad to happen.” You looked at him with wide eyes. He actually tried and somehow succeeded to try and understand where you were coming from.

Your heart almost couldn’t take it and you felt the familiar sting behind your eyes. “I´m sorry you had to make those experiences. I won´t touch you again.” The shock that ran through your body was visible even to him. Your eyes went wide as he tried to find the correct words. “I mean unless-“

“Have you even listened to what I just said?” you said in a high pitched voice.

“Yes I did, so-“

“Then why would you say that?”

Suddenly he started grinning wide. Your whole body heated up by the mischievousness of it. He screamed trouble when he stood, forgoing his coffee and came around the island towards you. Your eyes betrayed you yet again, wandering along his body. The one he steered towards you slowly. Grin transforming into a kind smile he realised you weren’t backing away. He came to a stop in front of you and suddenly you got a whiff. Clean skin, spicy wood and something like moss penetrated your nose and you took an involuntary deep breath. You hoped to all the existing entities out there that that was what he smelled like all the time.

“___” your name fell from his lips so gently. You looked at him expectantly, hopeful. “___, do you want me to touch you?” You nodded instantly. A brilliant smile made it´s way onto his features. One you would kill to see every day. “If that´s okey with you” you whispered. “___, you have no idea. I was thinking about you for a long time. I´ll touch you if you want me to. We can move as slowly as you need to.”

The joy and gratitude you felt almost made you dizzy. With a hearty chuckle you lifted your hand and carefully touched his bearded cheek. He took a deep, deep breath through his nose and leaned in. His own hand came up to yours completely covering it, holding it to his face. “Hmm” he hummed. “Feels nice.” His eyes bore into yours again when you stepped even closer. “You want to touch me more?” you asked, hinting to his other hand just limb hanging by his side. He just raised one brow and squeezed the hand he was holding. “Careful, little one.” He rasped turning your bones to jelly. “The way I want to touch you, I feel like, needs a bit more trainin´.” You swallowed hard and felt the heat creep up your neck, covering your face. Giggling however you lifted your other hand stroking your fingertips over his surprisingly soft beard. Encouraged by your willingness to be close to him, he too lifted his remaining hand and placed it softly onto your back waiting for your reaction.

When all you did was smile at him and admiring the crinkles that formed around his eyes he slowly leaned forward. You never thought a man would be able to make you feel so at ease in his arms ever again but here he was. His forehead landed on yours gently and he breathed you in for a second. A brilliant smile made its way onto your face.

“There you are” he smiled just as brilliantly. “You truly are mesmerising, do you know that?” You closed your eyes and pressed yourself closer to him. His grip on you getting stronger. “How long ´till you´re called in again?” you asked, raking your fingers down his beard onto the back of his neck. “Don´t know” he said. “But we have time, little one.” He brushed his nose with yours and exhaled slowly. “Let me show you that I want nothing more than your touch and your consent. I´m willing to earn it. Will you let me?” A single tear left your eye which was immediately brushed away ever so softly by his lips. Your skin prickled and you nodded quickly. “Words, darlin´” he said. “Yes, John. I´ll let you.” Another brush of his nose against yours, you felt his pulse at the tip of your fingers quicken.

Lifting your chin a little bit, his lips carefully touched yours for a brief moment. Then for a second time with more pressure. By the time your brain stopped short circuiting, you were still standing in your kitchen, in the arms of a man that singlehandedly began to take your wall down brick by brick. Kissing him happily, being kissed carefully and honestly.

You knew the possibility that he had to leave again soon was hanging heavy in the air between you but for some reason you didn´t worry. One day after the other, one touch after the other you would learn about him. With him. And while he lovingly stroked his hand up and down your back, you decided that you wanted him more than anything else. Wanted to see what he had in store for you. And in return you would be there for him. A steadfast point in his life to return to. He broke the kiss with a small laugh, hugging you close. Your face pressed to his neck, his big arms enveloped you fully and lifted you shorty off the ground. And with his own adorable giggle in your ears you knew, letting this man into your apartment was the beginning of a new chapter. One you needed. One you wanted more than anything.

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Does this scream for a part 2 or not? Let me know ;) As always thanky ou very much for reading. Comments, reblogs and likes are of course appreciated.

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