…dbf!john That Has To Take Care Of Her While Her Dads On A Business Trip?

John is so inordinately desperate to be back home after five months in God–knows–what–town within God–knows–what–country that he hasn't the time to take off his fingerless gloves before he fucks them into your sopping cunt, having just barged into the bedroom where you were coherently enjoying your book, now unable to recall what the last word you read was because the cloth over his palm is bullying your clit, his fingers are curling and tugging at your walls to get you to squirt for him so he has a better reason to put them in the wash, and you're whining and whimpering, just trying to figure out how he's been all this time.

"An– and did you manage to–" you choke on the words as his brutal fingers continue their crusade, hand plummeting beneath your panties, skull bumping the headboard enough to creak the bed like an old door– "eat plenty? Or do you want me to whip you up some– oh– oh– fuck– John!"

"I'm fed, lovie." He pants at the raw sight of your cunt split open from his fingers, noticing the way you can barely keep your eyes from rolling back, stomach binding and twisting as you audibly squirt over his palm, wincing at the fuzziness you feel in your bulged clit as his thrusts plateau.

"Let's focus on feedin' you, 'ey?" He leans to pinch a kiss from your pussy, the stunning girl she was for him, and relishes in your faux–drunken state as he palms the same hand he just used to shoot pleasure up your spine against his crotch to get himself throbbing and turgid for his beautiful wife.

"You gonna be good and throat my cock, sweet woman?”

| Masterlist |

Everything changed when that pregnancy test read positive.

The day you fumbled into his office, bearing what you thought to be bad news, John's excited face threw you for a loop.

Wasn't he supposed to be upset? Tell you that he didn't want to have a kid with someone he didn't fully care about? Why was he crying? Why did he embrace you so tenderly?

"I'll be there for both of you, Dovie," Price reassures in the nook of your neck, arms caging you against his chest.

Take care of both of you.

Both?

"M-Mr. Price, with all due respect—"

Price cuts off your protests. He leads you out of his office. His large hand grips your waist more possessively. "Go rest your feet up in the lounge; I'll take care of everything." His lips press to the crown of your head, ushering you away gently at the reception entrance.

You were supposed to have one fun night, not to be locked in for the rest of your lives.

Your days of working at a desk were replaced with John's house. It was far from the bustling base you had grown used to. The space was warm and homey. Bits of memorabilia were scattered about. Medals adorned the walls, and old photos sat on the shelves.

John said you only have one job now: making yourself at home.

There was so much space that you didn't know where to start or even how to start! It's not like there was a plan for having your boss's child! So much was happening so fast it left you overwhelmed, sitting on his couch with nervous hands. "Mr. Price, I'm really not sure about all this; I mean... what we did was a big mistake, right?"

From upstairs, you hear John laugh. He's been up there all morning, fixing the nursery for your child. He wanted to create a special room for them, saying that his kid deserves nothing but the best. Heavy footsteps announce his presence as he closes the distance between you. Calloused fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look into his ocean eyes. "You don't want this?"

His touch has you melting, words dying on your lips as you get lost in those eyes. God, why did he look at you that way? Churning like laundry, your gut writhes. A violent spin cycle grips your innards, knotting and wrenching them mercilessly. "I never—I never said that; I just think we're taking things too fast, don't you?" The half-hearted mumble escapes your lips, unconvincing even to yourself.

John's expression shifts; his eyebrow raises in slight scrutiny. "If you believed that, you wouldn't be here."

He's right.

"I do-"

He cuts in swiftly, voice firm. "You don't."

John's grasp tightens on your chin. He leans in, eyes intense. Your heart races. His lips brush yours. The kiss—chaste yet electric. A moment suspended in time. Emotions flood through you both, unspoken but palpable. "You have me. Whatever you want is yours, all you have to do is say the word."

John waits, poised for your word. His eyes betray a craving—silent, deep, and raw.

He belongs to you. He's all yours.

Your lips purse in a line, lip caught between your teeth.

Anything you want?

"I don't like the color of the nursey..."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

P1

❥ I wasn't originally gonna do a part 2 but... I really like this one, next fic will be longer, possibly fluff and smut maybe who knows ❥

John Price who fucks you for the first time and now it’s all he can think about. Your warm cunt wrapped around him so tightly and your nails digging into the backs of his thighs. When he showers the day following, he traces the marks with his fingertips and his dick is immediately hard at the reminder of you. His hand wraps around his length and his head fills with images of you in front of him, soap running down your body collecting between your tits. He comes within 3 minutes.

John Price who hasn’t seen you in days around base, no matter how far he wanders. Not until a meeting the following Friday, you’re sat in a chair, leg crossed on top of the other and hands resting in your lap. You try to look engaged in what’s being said, but he can tell your mind is elsewhere. And when the meeting ends and you stand, reaching your arms behind your back to stretch with a groan and a sliver of your stomach showing, he’s hard again.

John Price who shows up at your room later that night, his head shamefully hung low and dick straining in his pants. When you open the door wearing a tank top and sleep shorts he has to fight himself from grabbing onto the flesh of your thighs. Instead he just stares at your bare legs in front of him, already thinking about how he’s going to leave marks of his own.

Knight!John Price x Princess!reader

inspo - honestly shameless , i wanted this

werewolf smut werewolf smut

contains chasing to fuck , monster fucking , cnc (if you squint) & knotting

The moonlight slashes through the dense treeline like a blade, silver and cold and watching.

Sir John Price, noble knight captain and sworn protector of your kingdom’s bloodline, stumbles against a tree, his breathing ragged, uneven. His armored gauntlet splits against bark as claws push through, twisting bone and sinew. His growl isn’t human anymore.

You shouldn't be watching.

But gods, you are.

“My lady,” he rasps, voice strangled and wet with the growl curling in his throat. “Run.”

You don’t. Can’t. Your eyes are locked on the way his jaw cracks open, lengthening, sharpening, his teeth catching the moonlight. His armor creaks and groans under the pressure of his expanding body, the beast beneath the steel.

He snarls, turning away from you, fangs bared to the forest, to anything that might distract him from the scent of you.

“I said run,” he growls again, lower this time, desperate, trembling. “I won’t be able to stop. If you stay—if I catch your scent again—I’ll take you.”

There’s a flash in his eyes. Hunger.

Your heart slams in your chest. You take a step back.

His ears twitch.

“I need you to run,” he groans, clawed hand gripping his chest, as though he could anchor the man inside a body that’s no longer his. “Please, princess. You need to run.”

You whisper his name.

His eyes snap to you. Glowing. Predatory. Wicked.

Another heartbeat, and you’re sprinting through the trees.

Behind you, metal crashes to the ground, followed by a guttural howl that shatters the stillness. The kind of sound that promises teeth on your throat and hands gripping your hips.

You don’t dare look back.

Because if he catches you—

—no knight in the world could save you from what he’s about to become.

And he will catch you.

Of course he will.

You're fast—gods, you're fast—but you're not him. Not with your skirts bunched in your fists, breath burning your throat, heart thundering like war drums in your chest.

The woods blur, and still you run.

But you feel it when he gets close.

The heat of him. The thudding weight of paws behind you, impossibly silent for how large he must be now. The low growl that slips into the wind and curls around your spine like a hand.

And then—

You're gone from the ground.

A cry tears from your throat as you're swept off your feet, tackled into the moss with shocking gentleness for something that had sounded like a monster moments ago. You're caged beneath him—bigger now, broader, his skin half-shifted, half-wolf, glowing eyes staring down at you as his claws press into the earth on either side of your head.

He pants above you, chest heaving, sweat and fur and musk curling thick in the air. Drool drips from his snarl onto your cheek.

"You should've run faster," he growls, voice rougher now, lined with hunger, with need.

"Y-you caught me..." you whisper, breathless, trembling beneath the weight of him.

He leans down, nuzzles his nose to your throat, a low, rumbling growl vibrating through your skin.

"You wanted me to."

And gods help you—

—you did.

There's no pretending anymore—not for him.

Not with the way he snarls low against your throat, like he's trying to taste your pulse before he even sinks his teeth in. Not with the way his claws dig into the dirt, holding himself back by a thread, trembling from the effort. He's not even fully shifted—can't be, not with how badly he wants to feel you with his hands, not paws. Not with how badly he wants your skin on his, not fur.

He’s not gentle. Not after all that. Not after the chase.

He ruts against you, desperate, grinding hard through the layers between you, shuddering when you squirm—when you press your hands against his chest, not to push him away, but to pull him closer.

"Tell me no," he growls, but his hips say something else entirely—rolling down slow, then slamming forward hard enough to make you gasp.

You whimper something—maybe “stop,” maybe “don’t,”—but your legs are already spreading, traitorous, trembling, welcoming.

Your nails bite into his arms. You turn your face like you don't want this—but your body arches into him, not away.

"Don't lie to me," he snarls, voice shaking with the strain of holding back. His fangs are bared, but his mouth is at your ear, and you whimper when his breath hits your skin. "You're mine, princess. Say it."

You don't. Not with words. But your hips tilt, just enough, just right.

He growls like something unholy.

You love this. Even when you act like you don’t. Even when you cry and whine and call him a monster.

Because you're the one who's still clinging to him.

You're the one who's dripping before he even claims you.

He’s got you flat beneath him, skirts shoved up around your waist, your thighs trembling against his sides. His hands are huge, rough from years of sword and steel, and now they’re claiming every inch of you like you’re a battlefield he owns. One stays planted on your hip, the other cradling your jaw, thumb dragging over your lip like he's daring you to bite.

"You're gonna scream for me, sweet thing," he mutters, voice rough and ragged, half-man, half-creature. "Not because you're scared—because you're mine."

He starts slow, grinding against your slick heat through your ruined underthings, just to feel the tremble, the way your breath catches. Then he pulls away—and spits in his hand, like a brute, slicking himself up before dragging the head of his cock along your folds.

Not pushing in. Not yet. Just teasing.

“You’re gonna remember this, princess. Every. Fuckin'. Inch.”

And when he does finally sink into you?

He’s ruthless. Long, hard thrusts that force breathy gasps out of your throat. No soft kisses. No gentle words. Just the slap of skin, the growl in his chest, and the slick wet sounds of him fucking you like he was meant to.

He uses one hand to pin both your wrists above your head, the other sliding down between your thighs—finding your clit with practiced fingers.

And when he hits just the right spot, when you squirm and cry out and your walls clench tight around him, he leans down, growling into your mouth:

“There she is. There’s my good girl. Scream for your captain.”

And god, you do. You scream his name like it’s the only thing you know.

Which, by the time he’s done with you, it just might be.

"What would the king think? Seeing his little princess be such a whore?"

He’s not asking—he’s taking, like his body’s driven by instinct and the only thing it wants is you.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, dragging you down onto his cock with a growl that rumbles through his chest. You’ll feel him for days, the deep ache between your legs, the ghost of his fingerprints on your skin. When you cry out, he smirks, and his hand slides up your throat, thumb pressed gently beneath your jaw, just enough pressure to remind you who’s in control.

“Look at you,” he rasps, hips snapping into yours so hard that you swore the earth would split beneath you. “Takin’ it so well. So desperate for your captain’s cock, aren’t you?”

You nod, gasping, but it’s not enough for him.

“Say it. Say you want me to ruin you.”

And when you do—when you whimper out that you want him to break you—he fucks you for real. One hand on your throat, the other gripping your thigh and pressing your knees back, folding you open for him.

“You’re mine,” he snarls into your ear. “Say it again. Say it while I breed you full.”

And you do, because how can you not? When he’s buried so deep, when every thrust punches the air from your lungs, when your entire body is his—yeah, it’s rough, claiming, filthy. And you love it. Even if you act like you don’t. Even if you cry a little. Even if you’re already begging him not to stop.

He doesn’t just want to make you scream, sweetheart. He wants to make you remember.

When it happens—when the last shred of control slips and the shift fully takes him—it’s violent. Bones crack, skin tears, fur bursts across his body like wildfire. His snarl becomes a growl, low and guttural, vibrating through your chest as you lay beneath him. His eyes glow gold now, no trace of the man you once knew… but gods, he’s still inside there. Still watching you. Still wanting you.

And he doesn’t stop.

He’s bigger now. Stronger. His claws scrape the ground on either side of your head, holding himself over you, caging you in like prey. His muzzle brushes your throat, and you feel the heat of his breath, the tension in his jaw as he fights not to bite—not yet. Not until he’s claimed you properly.

His thrusts are deeper, more forceful, hips snapping into you with inhuman power. You cry out, nails digging into whatever part of him you can reach, but he just growls in approval. The slick, obscene sounds of him inside you echo louder now, more primal, more filthy. Every motion screams mine.

“You should’ve run faster,” he huffs, voice distorted and monstrous but still his. “Would’ve probably gotten away.”

But he doesn’t regret that you didn’t. Not one bit.

Because now? He can knot you. Fill you. Mark you inside and out until there’s no question who you belong to.

And when you sob his name—when your body breaks open for him again and again—he howls, the sound shaking the trees, the sky, you.

You're his. Forever now. And he’s going to make damn sure everyone knows it.

At first, you think he’s done. His pace slows, almost tender for a fleeting second as he pants above you, still trembling with the aftershock of the shift. But then—then—you feel it. That slow, thick swell at the base of him starting to press insistently against you.

He growls when your body tries to resist it, claws digging into the earth beside your head as he forces himself deeper. You cry out, overwhelmed, stretched too wide, and he groans—deep, guttural—as the knot pops inside. Locked. Stuffed. Filled.

“Shhh,” he rumbles, voice animal-thick, muzzle nudging at your cheek, “s’alright. You’ll take it. Gonna keep it all in, yeah?”

The stretch, the burn, the way your walls flutter helplessly around him—it’s too much, too perfect. He can feel everything, and so can you. That throbbing knot pulsing against your insides, his release locked deep where it’s meant to stay.

No escaping now. Not for hours.

You whimper his name, and his voice rumbles with satisfaction: “Good girl. That’s it. Take my knot, princess. Take every bloody drop.”

And you do. You have to.

tagging my favorite sicko - @goatgoesmbe

Morning

Blowjobs with Old Man!Price 🧚‍♀️

John’s still tense when he sinks into the armchair, legs spread, eyes locked on your every movement. The way you sink onto your knees wearing nothing at all with a coy smile plastered across your lip, crawling up to him and placing yourself in between Price’s legs, the epitome of sacrilegious being. The original sin.

He doesn't say anything. Just rests a hand on his thigh and jerks his chin toward the floor.

You already know what John wants even though he hesitates.

Eyes never leave one another. There’s a low rumble of approval in his chest when you settle, hands sliding up his thighs.

“Birdie, it’s quite alright,” he murmurs, voice like thunder rumbling just beneath the surface, his lust concealed behind a false wall of sincerity.

“But, my love,” you fiddle with the drawstring of his pants, “isn’t this where I belong, on my knees for you?” Your voice ringing salaciously sweet in John’s ears.

Slowly and deliberately, you reach for his waistband, and he raises his hips just enough to allow you to pull his boxers down. Under your touch, his cock, soft and heavy, twitches ever so slightly. John hisses through his teeth as you bend in and brush your lips against the tip.

He's not hard. You don’t care.

You love him in this way. susceptible. True. In a manner that he won't say out loud, he needs you.

Your tongue flicks over the head first languidly, warm, deliberate. Wrapping your deliciously pouty lips around him, mouth soft and open as you begin to work him with reverence.

No rush. No tricks. Just pressure, devotion, want.

John’s hand finds your hair, not forcing, just grounding himself, fingers flexing with each pass of your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans, voice hoarse. “Look at you…”

You hum around him, taking more as he hardens in your mouth, slowly, stubbornly, but surely. Satisfaction bubbles in you when the weight of John’s cock grows on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, swirl your tongue beneath the shaft, and his hips twitch, a low growl escaping his chest.

“Such a pretty little girl you are,” he grits out, eyes locked on your lips. “Letting an old bastard like me fuck that sweet mouth of yours”

You pull off with a wet pop, spit trailing down your chin, and look up at him, wide-eyed.

“I only want you,” you whisper. “Let me show you.”

That’s all he needs.

“Then show me,” John says darkly, tightening his grip in your hair. “Show me that you’re mine.”

You take him in again, deeper now, letting him hit the back of your throat. He groans low, his thighs flexing beneath your hands, his other fist tightening on the armrest.

You work him like he’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted in your mouth and in this moment, he is. The taste of him, the sound of his breath going ragged, the heat in his gaze as he watches your lips slide down to the base.

“Good girl,” he growls, breathing harder. “My good, sweet girl. Gonna come down that throat, yeah? Gonna swallow every drop for me.”

You moan in response, the sound vibrating through his cock, and with a few rough, needy thrusts of his hips, he falls apart — groaning low, like it hurts to feel that good, spilling hot and thick into your mouth.

You don’t pull back.

You take it all. Every. Single. Drop.

And when it’s done, when he’s panting, spent, eyes glassy with affection and heat, he leans forward and cups your face in his hand.

“God help me,” he murmurs. “You could ruin me like this.”

You smile, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Already have.”

Valentines day with Price and the Missus

Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies! I hope you all have a lovely day, if you’re celebrating today or if it’s just like any other day for you, either way I hope you have a wonderful day💕And enjoy this valentine’s fic of Price with his Missus.

(Btw I hyped this up and got people excited for it and now I’m scared it’s shit🙈)

Cw: male and female receiving oral

The feeling of heat between your thighs has you stirring in your sleep, the early morning sunrise bleeding in through the slight gap in the curtains, an orange glow taking over the room.

The movement underneath the covers snags your attention. Lifting up the edge to take a peak underneath, a head of brown hair littered with short greys is nestled between your legs.

Price has made himself quite comfortable with a leg over his shoulder and his arm wrapped firmly round the other keeping you spread wide for him, as he continues the trail of hickeys that he's started on the inside of your thighs. Not even bothering to look up at you from his position between your legs.

The purplish bruises litter the inside of your thighs. There's loads of them. Big and small covering the tender flesh in different shades of purples and blues.

How long had he possibly been down there for? If the hickeys were anything to go by it has clearly been quite a while.

"J...John" You mumble out a hand drifting down to lace through his hair, giving it a slight tug release a groan from deep in his throat.

"Good morning, love" John mutters between the kisses he's now placing on your thighs. his thumb aimlessly tracing over your hip bone back and forth, the feeling comforting. "Happy valentines day, my darling" His coarse facial hair scratching against your inner thighs as he hooks a finger under the waist band of your pyjama shorts, pulling them down round your hips and up over your thighs, discarding them some where in the room.

Your pussy now bare and exposed to him waiting and aching for him to bring his warm mouth to your aching core. His lips come down to wrap around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth hard.

His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs (most likely leaving more purple bruises on your body). His tongue lazily circling your clit flicking it before sucking it back into his mouth. Your loud moans fill the room, all filthy and lewd as you whine out.

"J..John, oh god...fuck!" Your back arching off the bed, thighs shaking as they rest on either side of his head.

Dipping down into your cunt, his tongue flattens against your folds before he's lapping at your slick. Your hips rising from the bed and pushing into his face tryna get more from him. Desperate to coat his face in your cum. Wanting to see your slick coat his facial hair in a slight sheen.

"Shh, shh, shh, almost done darling" John coos pushing your hips back down into the bed. The tips of his thick digits press at your sopping entrance, pushing their way through and stretching your tight little hole out. Fingers curling up to hit that spongy part of you that will have you toppling over the edge.

Fingers thrusting in and out of you at a slow and torturous pace, fingers hitting that spot deep inside of you just as his mouth continues to flick and suck on your swollen clit.

Your hands find their way underneath your pyjama shirt, pinching and twisting at your nipples. The added stimulation has heat building inside you, your stomach twisting into knots as that pleasure builds up ready and waiting to explode.

John rises up from underneath the covers, his lips meeting yours sloppy and wet as teeth clash together in the desperation of his need for you, his tongue pushes its way into your mouth, dancing with yours, as the taste of yourself on his tongue overwhelms your sense.

His fingers continue to pump in and out of you, the palm of his hand brushing against your swollen and sensitive clit with each pump of his fingers. Your moan being swallowed down by his mouth on yours.

“Cum for me, love. Come on give it to me” John says as he nips at the skin just below your ear. His fingers pumping faster his palm brushing harder against your clit. Your hips grinding up against his palm, begging for more friction against your poor aching clit.

Your walls clenching down on his thick digits as you spasm around him, your orgasm coming in waves as you reach the peak of your arousal. Removing his fingers from inside of you, John brings them up to his mouth so he can suck your cum clean off them. Making sure not leaving anything behind.

“Good morning” John remarks a smirk plastered across his face before pecking a kiss to your forehead. Rolling his body off of yours to lay next to you, the mattress creaks in protest at his weight.

Laying your head on his chest he wraps an arm around you pulling you in close. “Enjoy yourself?” John asks clearly chuffed with his morning activities.

“I could ask you the same question” You pant out still recovering from your recent orgasm. John lets out a chuckle as his fingers automatically start running through your hair.

“Hey John” you mutter as your hand trails down his chest, over his stomach and down his slight happy trail towards his cock, that lays half chubbed up under his boxers.

A grunt from deep in his chest is all you’re met with as you slip under his waistband, gripping a hold of his cock.

“Can I return the favour?” You ask mischief in your tone. As you run your hand up and down his length, the precum escaping his red aching tip acting as a lube for you to use.

“Always” He mutters as he crosses his arms behind his head and closes his eyes. Relaxing into the soft mattress and pillows making himself comfortable.

Raising his hips so you can pull his boxers down onto his thighs, freeing his cock from its confinement. His cock springing free slapping against his stomach.

Taking it in your grasp you work his cock up and down, it now being fully firm in your grasp. His red angry tip profusely leaking beads of clear sticky precum as you work him from base to tip.

You take him into your mouth swirling your tongue around his tip before you’re guiding him deeper down your throat.

"oooh, look at you, darling. You take my cock so fucking well" John grunts out hips rising, pushing himself as deep as he can go into your throat. His large hand coming down to tangle in your hair, slightly pushing down just so he can hear your gag and sputter around him as his tip rams against the spongey skin at the back of your throat.

John watches you through hooded eyes as his cock continuously disappears down your throat. Your other hand cups his balls, giving them a slight squeeze as John loves when you do that.

A string of animalistic grunts and growls escape from deep inside John as you pull his cock out from your mouth with a pop, dragging his tip over your lips coating them in his precum before you place a kiss to his tip, your tongue drags across his slit, tasting the salty liquid that escapes from it.

"You keep doing that and I'll coat that pretty little face of yours, darling" John says through gritted teeth. His thighs shaking underneath you, he won’t last much longer and you know it.

Swirling your tongue around his tip one more time has him cumming all over your face. Warm creamy spurts of cum coat your face in a glimmer of his pearly release.

(Here's your reminder @kamlicious, enjoy🤭)

Thinking again about neighbor!Price and his sweet little bird down the street…(kind of a pt 2 to this)

Out on another of his walks, that have only increased in frequency since you moved in, he sees his pretty bird huffing as she tries to shove a massive box through her front door. He would have to talk with you about that. He had given you his number for this specific reason.

Jogging up behind you, he offers a greeting before putting his hands on either side of you. Pushing himself up close so he trapped you between the box and himself.

“Okay dove, on three,” he says, so casually, like his beefy arms aren’t completely distracting you.

Clearing your throat, you nod and give a big push when he counts to three. It only takes three more heaves before you two have the box sitting just inside the house.

“So what’s this love?” John asks, eyeing the box. Searching for any clues — typical military man.

“New dresser,” you chirp back to him happily, shutting the front door behind you. “Comes in like a million pieces though, so I will be putting it together after lunch!”

John nods as he continues to study the box. Thrumming his fingers on his chin, he hums before turning to you.

“I’ll build it for you,” he says, so firm, like it was already decided.

“Oh no John-” you begin to protest, but he holds a hand up. Silencing you.

Good girl, he thought to himself. So obedient.

“Now now, I don’t want to hear none o’ it,” he smirks confidently at you, relishing a bit in the small blush on your cheeks. “How about you just make me some of that lunch too?”

You nervously tuck some hair behind your ear, a small nod as you look up at him.

“Sounds like a fair deal,” you smile sweetly, before turning to head to your pantry.

You bend over into it, John absolutely eyeing your perfect ass. Pulling out a small tool box and handing it to him.

“I hope everything you need is in there,” you blush, a bit sheepish at how unprepared you must seem to him.

He took the toolbox from you, ensuring he brushed his fingers along yours, “I’ll make do with what you got, sweetheart.”

With a smile and a nod of his head he started to drag the box back to your bedroom. Not even bothering to wonder how he knew which was yours. It’s not like you told him when he helped move you in.

After a bit, you appear in the doorway, “Knock, knock,” falling cheerfully from your lips. “Oh my goodness, you’re nearly done already!”

You move quickly past your bed to where he was tightening on one of the last few knobs. Smiling over at him as you run your hand along the top.

“Thank you so much John,” you smile widely, before shaking your head, “oh, um, I have lunch ready!”

He smiles at your demure and soft nature, nodding as he finishes tightening the last nail. Wiping his hands on his jeans as he stands from his kneeled position.

“You are absolutely welcome dove,” he purrs, stepping closer. He lifts a hand, brushing back the same strand of hair as you did earlier.

“You know what they say about building furniture for someone, love?” He asks, letting his hand move, his knuckles brushing over your cheek. His palm opening for your face to settle into it. You stare up at him, almost mystified, “It implies that one day we will share it,” he smirks down at you.

(Is the ending inspired by new girl? Yes. If you caught that do I love you? Also yes. 🫶🏼)

Taking Care of You

Summary: You've been stressed out and working like crazy lately. John finally has enough and devises a plan to take care of you and make you forget all about your work.

Pairing: John Price x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, minors do not interact)

Warnings: stressed reader, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), orgasm denial, praise

A/N: This one goes out to all my stressed and busy babes out there! This is 100% self indulgent since I've been working day and night recently. We all need us some Price to take that stress away

You knew that you had been distant for a while. Work had been piling up on you, responsibilities pressing in from all sides. It seemed like all you did was work, work, work these days. 

Your husband, John Price, was as supportive as he always was. He, of all people, understood that sometimes you just had to put your head down and get work done. When he was home with you, he always made sure that you ate and stayed hydrated. He limited your caffeine intake. He made sure you took breaks. In all, he was the most supportive, understanding man on the planet. 

…which was why his reaction now was so surprising. 

You saw him approach the makeshift office that you had set up at your kitchen table from over your laptop screen. In a soft, even voice he ordered, “Close the computer, love.”

Continuing to type, you spared him a questioning glance as you shook your head. “I just took a break like… an hour ago.”

“Three,” he corrected. “It’s almost eleven at night.”

You whipped your head up to look at the clock that hung on the wall behind him. Sure enough, he was right. Dread spread through you, your brain already kicking into crisis mode. “Shit. God, I’ve got to get this done.”

“It’ll be there tomorrow,” he countered. “You’ve been workin’ like mad all weekend long. I’m not gonna let you run yourself into the ground. So. Shut. The. Laptop.”

He stressed each word, and suddenly you felt what it must’ve been like to have John as a Captain, calm but commanding. Your eyes met his, your mouth open to fight him on the matter, but you found him ready for it, a testing eyebrow raised. It was rare that he would ever tell you what to do, but it always came when he was worried about you and trying to take care of you. Any time you had gotten a significant injury, he had made sure that you stuck to every word of the doctor’s orders. 

You huffed and leaned back, already sensing defeat. Instead, you tried to plead with him, “John, I won’t be able to sleep unless I get this done. I’ll just keep thinking about it.”

He put one hand on the table, leaned toward you, and pushed the laptop closed with the other hand. With his face barely a breath from yours and his eyes darkening, he rumbled, “I can fix that.”

Your body reacted to his sultry insinuation immediately, your heart rate jumping in an instant. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “And how’s that?”

“I’ll make it so that you can barely even think anymore. I’ll wear you out so much you’ll fall asleep without even a thought about this,” he said, tapping the closed lid of your laptop. 

At times like this, you hated how easy it was for him to get you riled up. He knew exactly how to play you, exactly how to make his gravelly voice even more enticing, exactly what to say to get you squirming in your seat for him like you were now. 

You pressed your lips together, thinking for a moment. You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t want this. You were so tired of all the work and John knew exactly how to play you. But if he was going to have some fun, then so were you. With a provocative flit to your voice, you challenged, “Then prove it, Captain.”

For a moment, all he did was let a sultry smile pull at his lips. Then he was on you, his hands guiding you up from your chair and his lips finding yours. It was all fire and passion, but yet not too rushed. No, John never rushed this early. He loved to work you up slowly and leave you begging for him to just touch you already. He followed that playbook now, walking you backwards to press you up against the wall, his hand guarding your head from hitting it. 

As he tilted your head to give his lips access to your neck, he rasped against your burning skin, “Never too stressed to tease me, are you?”

Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive part of your neck, your hands clawing at his back and tangling in his short hair. After a moment, he moved back up to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours for a long while. 

Eventually, his hands on your hips guided you to walk with him towards your shared bedroom. You took turns pulling at the other’s clothes, leaving a trail haphazardly in your wake. By the time you both passed through the doorway, John was only in his boxers and you in your plain black bra and panties. As he laid you back onto the bed, he eyed you as hungrily as he did when you wore lingerie for him. 

“D’ya know how fuckin’ sexy you are, love?” His hands pressed against your stomach before roaming up, up, up as slowly as possible. Your eyes fluttered shut as he ghosted his hands over your bra, arching shamelessly into his touch. Still drinking the sight of you in, he rasped, “Gotta take care of you. Gotta make sure I get rid of all that stress, all those worries.”

“John…” you whined, already needy and falling for his plan. One side of his mustache raised in a smile, clearly understanding that he already had you right how he wanted you. “Just touch me, please.”

John chuckled, giving your breasts a quick squeeze before placing a kiss just over your heart. “I am touchin’ you, baby.”

“Fuck, John, you know what I mean.”

He pressed the faintest of kisses up your chest and to your neck. Against the skin of your neck, he teased, “Maybe I don’t. Tell me. Use your words, love.”

Despite his insistence, he gave you no time to answer. Instead, his lips found the sensitive column of your neck, the touch no longer feather-light like it had been before. Now, he kissed and nipped with a passion that had you gasping beneath him. 

“Hhm? I didn’t catch that. Gotta speak up,” he mumbled next to your ear, the heavy timber of it sending shivers down your spine. But you could feel the curve of his lips against your soft skin, his beard prickling you as he did. 

“Don’t be a tease,” you grumbled halfheartedly. Even now, though, you couldn’t resist him. Giving in, you begged, “God, just fuck me, John.”

He made a sound of appreciation, deep and reverberating, the kind you could feel in your own chest. Leaning up over you, his icy blue eyes came to meet yours. “Now, was that really that hard?”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing your own smile as you grabbed his neck and leaned up to give him a bruising kiss. Returning the heat immediately, he dropped the act for a moment. Lips moving in tandem with yours, urgency lacing every movement, you felt him get lost in it. Surely enough, as he adjusted over top of you, you felt his hard-on graze your lower stomach. You chased him, hooking a leg over his hip to roll your hips against him. He groaned into your mouth, eyes squeezed shut. 

“So impatient today,” John chided. He pulled away and sat up, his hands coming to unhook and discard your bra on the floor. As he went to do the same with your underwear, you breathed a sigh of relief thinking that the torture of his teasing was finally over. 

Settling between your thighs, a man in heaven, he brought his mouth close to where you needed him. However, at the last second, his breath dusting your sensitive skin, he turned and brought his lips to the inside of your thigh instead. He still couldn’t hide his smile when you groaned in frustration. 

You were in for a hell of a ride. When he got in a teasing mood like this, there was no stopping him. 

Beard and mustache picking deliciously against you, he kissed up one thigh. Then, when he almost reached your center again, your breath hitching, he switched to the other thigh. There were some days when he did this that it felt like heaven — days when you were already losing yourself to the feel of him before he even got going. While you tried to conjure up that more present, more patient version of yourself, it didn’t seem possible now. You needed him so badly it ached. 

When your fingers found their way into his hair and gave him a light tug in the direction you needed him, he finally let you have your way. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, a small chuckle shaking the broad plane of his back. As he lowered his head, his hooded eyes meeting yours, he purred, “If tha’s really what you want, love. Have it your way.”

With that, he finally brought his tongue to you. Ever so slowly, he licked into you, drawing a gasp from your chest. Sliding his hands up from your hips to hold the sides of your stomach, his tongue made a twin journey up to your clit. He flicked his tongue a few times, slowly testing you.

Though it was all too slow for your liking, he steadily built up the pace. The scrape of his beard. The flick of his tongue. The reverb of his moan as you tugged on his strands. It was a delicious cycle, speeding up each time through. 

You let your head tip back into the pillow as you finally felt that tension in your stomach — a coil winding tighter and tighter. Your breath was ragged now, your legs already bracing around John’s head. 

“Yes,” you panted, eyes squeezed shut. “Just like that. I’m so- I’m so clo-”

Right as you were about to crest that hill, John pulled away all at once. Your orgasm dissipated like a wave against the beach — there one moment and gone the next. 

You whipped your head up to look at him, disbelief and righteous fury in your eyes. You were met only with a hungry, conniving smirk from the infuriatingly sexy man between your thighs. In this moment, even with his beard and the signs of age on his face, he didn’t seem a day older than the first time you had seen this smirk. The John Price that smirked in triumph at you now was the same as the John Price who had done it for the first time nearly a decade earlier. Had you not just had euphoria ripped away from you, you probably would’ve been more sentimental about this revelation. 

“Jonathan Price, I swear to god-”

You were cut off by another one of his chuckles. He licked his lips slowly, making sure you watched as he tasted you. “Still too stressed, love. Don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“You teasing asshole,” you huffed, but the edge was lost to it. 

It only made him smirk even more. “Fine,” he acquiesced, leaning back down. “Let’s try this again.”

At the same time that his mouth found your clit again, one of his hands traveled down to slip a finger into your dripping entrance. A small moan escaped you at the new sensation. As he started to build you back up again, his mouth and finger moving in tandem, you couldn’t help but forget his past transgressions. All that mattered now was the buildup leading to the big drop, the wonder that John could work between your thighs. 

Suddenly, he slipped a second finger into you, drawing a surprised whine from your lips. “Ohh… oh, fuck…”

He groaned in approval, the vibrations of his mouth against you only upping the unbearable pleasure. 

You were there again, so close to the edge that you could practically see it. Your body tensed in anticipation of the drop like a rollercoaster. It was just-

John pulled away again, shattering the buildup to your orgasm for the second time.

You let out a pained hybrid of a groan and a whine. Now, rather than annoyance coursing its way through you, all you had was desperation. “Fuck! John, please!”

“Hmmm, there we go,” he mused. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

“Please let me come, baby,” you pleaded. “I need it so bad.”

Pushing himself up, your heart sunk at the thought that he might keep teasing you and leave you hanging. Though he was never, ever one to leave you wanting, you were too far out of it to think straight anymore. All you knew was that you needed him and he was holding that just out of reach. 

Instead, he climbed up to lean over you. With a gentle hand, he cradled your jaw, making you look at him. Your slick glistened on his chin and beard. His pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of them nearly lost to it. With how much self control he had, his eyes and the tent in his boxers were the only indications that he was as affected by this as you were. 

“D’ya think you’re ready for me, beautiful? Think you can take me?”

You nodded immediately, still breathless. “Need you so bad, baby. Please. I can take it.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding. “That’s my girl.”

Finally, he stripped off his boxers, revealing his red, leaking cock. You couldn’t stop the small whine you made at the sight, your need for him overriding any coherent thought.

John pushed into you in one swift stroke, drawing your nails to scrape across his back. The stretch was delicious, tearing you apart and soothing the insatiable ache in your core at the same time.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he praised. If the feeling of him seated inside you wasn’t already enough to set you ablaze, his praise was. It always was. 

His arms came to rest by either side of your head as he leaned down and stole a heated kiss from your lips. Then, he drew himself slowly out of you before sharply driving back into you again. Your body shook with the force of it, forcing you to break from his lips as you let out the most lewd moan of the night. 

But, of course, that was just the beginning. John continued like that, fucking you harder with every quick snap of his hips until the only sound in your bedroom was the slap of skin on skin and both of your grunts and moans of pleasure.

“This what you needed, baby?” John asked, voice gravelly and breathy. “You needed to get fucked this good?”

Your voice caught in your throat, a strangled sound coming out in place of an affirmation.

He sped up his pace, his cock hitting so deep within you that you had to squeeze your eyes shut. He groaned, “My good girl. Always workin’ so bloody hard. You deserve this — deserve to just let me take care of you.”

Your pussy clenched around him at his praise, drawing groans from you both. You clawed at his back, searching for some sort of tether in the tidal wave of pleasure you were trapped in now. For the third time tonight, you could see the salvation of your orgasm on the horizon. Having been denied it so many times, its immensity and force was almost alarming. 

Though you were too lost in John to think clearly, you were able to gasp out one plea. “Don’t stop! Baby, don’t- don’t stop!”

Rhythm growing sloppy, John assured, “Not gonna stop this time. Been so fuckin’ good for me. Come for me, love.”

That’s all it took to have you falling apart on his cock, the tension in your stomach snapping in an overwhelming flood of euphoria. Breath catching in your chest as you rode out the high, John continued to fuck you through it, murmuring deep praises all the while. 

Just as you were coming back down to earth, your body finally feeling like it was yours again, John was nearing his high. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned, head lowered by your ear. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he was burying himself to the hilt in you, his warm cum coating your walls. You gasped at the feeling as he ground his hips into yours a little.

Still propped on his arms, he sagged down over you, his breath ragged like yours. You dragged a hand up from his shoulder blade and into his hair, letting your fingers card through the soft strands as John came back to you and pulled out. Then, he lifted up enough to meet your gaze again. He took you in for a moment before leaning down and giving you one last heated kiss. 

The two of you clearly spent, he leaned his forehead against yours after he broke away. He brought a large, calloused hand to brush against your cheek. 

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mused. “I love you.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

“Feelin’ better?”

“So much better,” you answered. The stress and pressure you had felt for days was gone now, replaced only with the feeling of John. For the first time in a long time, you truly felt relaxed. 

“I told you I could fix it,” he said triumphantly, wiggling an eyebrow at you.

After taking a moment to clean you both up, John crawled back into bed and shifted to spoon you from behind. With his strong arm over your stomach and your legs intertwined, you let him envelop you. As sleep slowly pulled you under, the only thought on your mind was him.