Patpatpat

The height difference between Farah and Price was not exaggerated at all….jesus christ

….guys she’s 5’8…and wearing heeled sneakers too…

Playing for Keeps

pairing: RugbyCaptain!John Price x Female Reader

synopsis: Dragged to a local rugby match by your best friend, you didn’t expect to find yourself captivated by the team’s captain, John Price. 

word count: 832

warnings: Suggestive themes, playful teasing, mutual pining, soft fluff, and a healthy dose of rugby-inspired tension.

a/n: Heavily inspired by Sébastien Chabal. Sorry, this is the most suggestive I can go😭

You weren't sure why you let your best friend drag you to the local rugby match that day. It wasn't that you didn't like rugby-it was fine-but watching a bunch of burly men tackle each other wasn't exactly your idea of a relaxing weekend.

That was, until you saw him.

John Price.

The captain of the team, with his broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and that perpetual scruff that somehow made him look both rugged and polished. He had an air of command, moving on the field like he owned it. Every pass, every tackle, every barked instruction was met with respect. It was impossible to look away.

Your friend had noticed.

"See something you like?" she teased, elbowing you in the ribs.

"Shut up," you muttered, though you couldn't stop your eyes from following him.

By the end of the game, Price's team had taken home the win, and you found yourself lingering near the sidelines as the players began to filter out. You weren't exactly sure what you were waiting for-an autograph? A glimpse of him up close?

What you weren't expecting was for him to notice you.

"Enjoy the game, love?" His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine as he approached, his shirt slung over one shoulder, revealing a chest and arms that could have been sculpted by the gods.

You blinked, trying to gather yourself. "It was... intense."

He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Intense is one word for it." He offered his hand, large and calloused. "John Price."

You shook it, your hand practically swallowed by his. "I know."

He arched a brow, his smirk growing. "Oh, you know, do you?"

You flushed. "I mean, you're the captain. It's hard not to notice."

"Noticed me, did you?" he teased, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch.

You tried to muster a witty response, but before you could, he stepped back, pulling a card from his back pocket and slipping it into your hand.

"Give me a call sometime," he said with a wink. "I'll show you a game up close."

And that's how it started.

-

The months that followed were a whirlwind. Price was nothing like you expected. Beneath his commanding presence and tough exterior was a man who could be gentle and fiercely protective.

He made you laugh, listened to you talk about the smallest details of your day, and always, always made you feel like you were the center of his world.

But that didn't mean he didn't have a mischievous side.

Like now, for instance.

You were in his kitchen, attempting to make dinner while he leaned against the counter, freshly showered and still in his team's training shorts.

The tight fabric clung to his thighs, leaving little to the imagination, and the way he kept running a hand through his damp hair wasn't helping.

"John," you said, exasperated as he reached over to steal a piece of the bread you were slicing.

"Stop it!"

"Can't help it," he said, his voice low and teasing.

"You're too tempting, love."

You rolled your eyes. "I meant the bread."

"Did you, now?" He stepped closer, crowding into your space, the heat of him enveloping you.

"Because I think you like it when I can't keep my hands off you."

Your heart skipped a beat as his hands settled on your hips, his fingers brushing against the thin fabric of your shirt. He leaned in, his scruff scraping lightly against your cheek as he whispered, "Admit it."

You turned to face him, your breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. "You're insufferable," you managed, though the words lacked any real bite.

"Maybe," he murmured, his lips hovering just above yours. "But you love it."

Before you could respond, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was both playful and demanding. He tasted like mint and something inherently him, and you found yourself melting against him, the bread completely forgotten.

His hands tightened on your hips as he lifted you onto the counter with ease, slotting himself between your legs. The kiss deepened, and you threaded your fingers through his hair, earning a low groan from him that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

"John," you gasped when he finally pulled back, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck.

"Hmm?" he hummed against your skin, his scruff adding a delicious friction that made your toes curl.

"The food," you managed weakly.

"Forget the food," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I've got something better in mind."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound soft and breathless. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes softened as he cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "You're everything, you know that?"

Your heart swelled at the sincerity in his voice.

"You're not too bad yourself," you said, pulling him back down for another kiss.

Dinner could wait.

taglist:@honestlymassivetrash

cw: john price x f!reader - older man/younger girl; smut; smidge daddy kink; meet cute or smthn

thinking about being moderately creeped out when the waiter came your way and told you that your tab has actually been settled by that gentleman over there.

and you’re quite hesitant to look around and acknowledge the gentleman’s presence but your friends are whooping, making kissy faces and being so embarrassingly obvious at their own checking-out that you bit the bullet and turned around, dutifully ignoring the lump lodged in your throat—

oh.

well, that’s one good looking man, sure. kind of young for your taste though, if you’re being honest but if he’s treating you and your friends, then you guess that’s—

the man beside him turns, meets your gaze, and shoots you a sultry wink.

his scruff and his hair is a mess of salt and pepper, and he’s got crinkles around his eyes as he smiles, and he’s got tan skin like he just spent a summer in greece while you were honest to god killing yourself for your capstone as your graduation is coming close, and—

“yeah,” your friend laughs, all sleazy. “he’s your type, ain’t he? a fucking dilf.”

oh.

so that younger one is—

god, he’s almost twice your age then if that kid’s his son. what the fuck that’s—

“please shoot your shot before we lose this group-sugar daddy,” another one of your friends chirps and that forces an ugly snort your way but mr. dilf doesn’t even look turned off by the way his smile just grew and- oh god, he’s standing up and he’s moving close and—

“hey, sweetheart,” he says and honestly the british accent is just uncalled for.

“hi,” you reply after being jabbed on your side.

his scruff dances as his humour bloats. he nods his head to the group and turns back at you.

fuck, yeah okay so— “thanks for that, by the way. you didn’t have to.”

he shrugs. “i wanted to. ‘sides, all that money ought to be spent on a pretty thing, don’t you think?”

pretty thing — does he mean you?

that…

that honestly does it for you.

your cheeks tingle with warmth as shyness creeps in. you feel yourself slowly clamming up, still so painfully unused to being the point of attraction. no one has ever liked you above your friends, but there he is, so suave and beautiful in his tan and charming in an honestly concerning way as he pours all his attention to you. not them but you.

“do you want to, uh, go somewhere? show me around or something?”

he huffs a fond laugh and offers his hand — big and callused, with a scar drawn across his whole palm — and says, “thought you’ll never ask.”

he pulls you up. “name’s john.” he tips his head back to his table, one that’s now bar of the other patron. “that was my son, lucas.”

you didn’t even notice that john’s hand has left your own until you felt it on the small of your back.

“and what about you?”

“huh?” you ask, trying to focus on not tripping on your feet.

“what shall i call you, sweetheart?”

“oh,” you say, blinking, before muttering your name.

john hums something deep in the base of his throat.

“beautiful.”

and, somehow, you know that he doesn’t just mean your name but he means you.

.

(it ends with you on his hotel bed, speared open by his cock. you’ve never been this wet before, walls all loose and squelching as he fucks it even deeper, punching the head into the pucker of your cervix.

john is all quiet grunts, animalistic as he devours you.

jesus, this man couldn’t truly be almost twice your age — how the fuck is he moving this way?

he fills you up to the point of tears, and fills you up even more, pushing and pressing in until he’s all snug in you, his pelvis flushed to yours. you feel so full. so stuffed that you couldn’t even moan right, raspy breaths all that could puff out of you.

“s’good!” you hiccup, sobbing, twitching at the drag of his cock as john pulls out only to choke on your own voice when he fucks in.

“jo-hnnn, s’good! s’good!”

“yeah?” he grunts, scruff tickling the shell of your ear. “y’feel so good ‘round me, darling. tight like a vice. christ, has no one ever fucked you open? stretched you out good?”

you shake your head, whining because no. no one’s fucked you this way. no one’s filled you this way. and if they did, everything’s been overwritten by john.

and his thick fingers and wide palms and his fat cock, fucking in, in, in.

“oh, darlin’,” he croons, his skin slapping against your own. “don’t worry, then, love. daddy’s going t’fix you up, ‘kay? daddy’s going t’make you feel so good, i promise.”

daddy—

fuck.

fuck.)

“Looks like you saved free world again, Captain Price.”

Captain John Price in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 01/??

dbf!price who buys you pretty little skirts, knowing how much you love them, just so you can wear them at family dinners that he’s invited to.

dbf!price who rubs at your clit under the table, gently pinching your thighs because you’ve gotten so good at controlling your reactions and he enjoys seeing you jump a little

dbf!price who likes flustering you, asking if you have a boyfriend. his eyes blazing with amusement as you stutter out a ‘no’.

his finger sinking into you in a slow, shallow thrust. and right before you’re about to cum, his finger leaves your wet cunt :(((

dbf!price who after dinner offers to drive you to a friends house, knowing the two of you are going to end up fucking in his car.

stuffing you full of his cock as he tells you how naughty you are. and how good girls don’t fuck men twice their age :(((

dbf!price who laughs at how wet you are, spanking you softly as you writhe against him.

“what would your parents say if they saw you like this, hm?”

dbf!price who uses the excuse that your dads always out of town to check up on you. fucking you in every flat surface of your home and when he comes over he likes to remind you how many times he made you cum there.

i need him :((

Papa Price

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 |

Price: It has 5 bedrooms, three bathrooms, full basement with laundry room, but it has room for making a couple more bedrooms and a bathroom.

Price: Was thinking of using this bedroom as a guest bedroom for now.

Price: The other bigger ones for the kids someday.

Price: An open kitchen, very big, a little bare for now.

Price: This is my office.

Price: This would be your space. You can do anything you want with it.

Price: A reading room, a gaming room, art room...

Y/N: What?

Price: In the back there's a greenhouse and a big garden. Do you like gardening or just having flowers around?

Price: I can arrange someone to come every so often to take care of the yard.

Y/N: Wait...

Price: Let me walk you through it, you'll love it.

Price: I can build a gazebo riiiight there. What do you think?

Y/N: John, enough.

Price: (tilts head confused)

Y/N: This is literally our first date.

Price: (shaking his head) None of that.

Price: What's your ring size?

Captain John Price in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 14/??