NSFW Price Drabble

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

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

i cannot get over how low his jeans are here

Barry Sloane as Captain Price Beta version Joe “Bear” Graves | SIX

The Arrangement

Summary:  John proposes a friends with benefits arrangement. But he's making it so very difficult to stick to the terms.

Warnings: Slight reference to Reader being harassed, making out, implied cunningulus and fingering, actual cunningulus, p in v sex, lotus position, hand job. Initial miscommunication of expectations about what John wants now and what Reader thinks John wanted last night. A flirty, teasing, knows-what-he-wants-and-its-you John appears.

Author’s note: This has interspersed flashbacks to the night before– those are expressed as paragraphs of italicized text. Hopefully that makes it easier to follow.

Word count: <4K | Rating: 18+ MDNI. NSFW. It’s smut, people. | Credits: Left photo, unsplash. Remaining photos, pinterest. Banners and dividers made in Canva.

John Price masterlist | Main Masterlist

No matter where you were stationed or deployed, the one habit you followed religiously was to wake up and have a cup of coffee. It was a grounding ritual for you–a small pocket of time that was yours and yours alone, before the demands and obligations of your life imposed themselves on your day.

Today was no exception. You lean against the kitchen sink, staring out the window of your flat, listening to the coffee maker bubble and brew. It was still pitch dark (the kitchen clock read 5:06am), and all you could see was your reflection staring back at you. Of a woman in her mid-30s. Tired, body well-used and aching, her world shifted on its axis. 

John Price was a long-time colleague and friend. Last night, that status changed to long-time colleague and friend with benefits. Well…that’s what he had proposed, and that’s what you agreed to. 

Except…after the night you just had, you weren’t sure how you were going to keep things casual.

“John, thank you for the walk back. I’m sorry you had to witness that debacle at the pub.”

You glance sideways at him. Wearing his usual watch cap, wool overcoat, jeans and winter boots, he blended right into his surroundings–a cold January night, snow silently falling in big fat flakes, covering everything in sight. 

The streets were quiet–not a single car on the road or people out and about. The only sounds the two of you could hear were from the crunching noises of your boots as you trudged down the street together in the snow. 

He rubs his bare hands together briefly, blowing into them with his mouth before shoving them back into his pockets before he speaks.

“Love, that random drunk was out of line and everyone knew it with the way he was harassing you. You were magnificent, verbally handing his balls to him. Well done. I’d have wrecked him and given him a toss through a window, yeah? But everyone just joined in and took the piss out of him instead.” 

You snort, a small puff of warm air escaping into the frigid night. “Well, I’m glad you let me handle that.”

“I knew you could.” He pauses, then adds, “I have no doubts you could’ve wrecked him and tossed him through the window yourself.”

You chuff out a laugh, imagining that ridiculous visual.

Stopping at the front doors of your apartment building, you turn to look back at him. “Come in for a drink? Least I can offer you for your troubles walking me back.” 

He removes his watch cap, slapping it against his leg and stomping his feet briefly to shake the snow off of himself. You tiptoe up to brush the remaining snow off his shoulders before doing the same yourself.

“Well?” you ask him, bouncing on the balls of your feet, trying to keep warm.

“I’m afraid if I say no to you now, there’s no telling what you’d do to me, in the mood you’re in. Lead the way,” he chuckles, following you inside the building foyer.

“Can’t sleep?”

You turn around, seeing John clad only in his boxer briefs, leaning against the kitchen doorway. His eyes sweep over you in your thigh-length silk robe, watching you intently. Gods, he was ruggedly handsome, especially with that knowing smile tilting the corner of his mouth. 

Your eyes travel from his feet, darting upwards over his tall, broad, muscular form. Over his thick thighs. His large, capable hands and brawny forearms folded across his hairy chest. All the way to his roguish, bearded face and mussed, dark brown hair. His ocean blue eyes meet yours, watching you intently.

You let out a small, shaky breath as your body reacts to the totality of him standing before you. More, your mind traitorously whispers. You firmly shut that thought down until he takes a step towards you. 

“How are you doing, love?”

The two of you were sitting on your loveseat. Drinks long done and the conversation finally winding down. This would be when he would say it’s getting late, and then you’d hug him and see him off. But this time he’s made himself more comfortable on your loveseat–legs spread, his knee lightly brushing against yours. 

His mood seems reflective tonight, and you don’t miss the lingering looks he’s been giving you. He reaches out to trace your kneecap lightly with his fingers, as if to assess your reaction. His fingers lazily trace a random swirl pattern, causing small shivers to course up your thigh. 

John was always a tactile person, clapping his hand on your shoulder, patting your knee, hand on the small of your back when steering you through a crowded room. It was something over the years that you’d gotten used to, and you always thought he was being gentlemanly. 

But this…this felt a little different.

“This is the first time in a very long time we’re both not seeing anyone.” It’s a statement rather than a question. 

“Yes?” you reply questioningly, curious at the shift in the conversation.

“I’d like to propose something to you, and all I’d like to ask is for you to hear me out.”

You laugh. “You’re being very cryptic. That’s not like you. But…you’ve got my attention now.”

He tilts his head to the side, a small smile ghosting his lips.

“We’ve known each other for several years now? I’d like to think we’re good friends and work colleagues, wouldn’t you say?”

“We are…” you say slowly, searching his expression for any sign of where he was going with this conversation.

“We’re in a very unpredictable, stressful line of work. We have our own language and ways of working that few people understand.”

“Mm hmm…go on,” you wave at him to continue, genuinely intrigued. 

“But we’re human beings too. It’s difficult to meet people who can put up with what we do. Being in a committed relationship takes a lot of time and effort that we both don’t have the headspace for. Doesn’t it get lonely sometimes? We crave intimacy. We have wants, desires, physical needs that aren’t getting met.”

Your mind rapidly sifts through all the scenarios of where John’s train of thought is going, and you can’t help but blurt out the one improbable possibility that remains. “A friends with benefits arrangement? Is that what you’re proposing?”

You lean back up against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. “I-I…don’t think I’ve used some muscles in a long time John…they’re screaming at me now,” you admit, trying to deflect with some dry humor, trying to give him some version of a truthful answer.

He tsks playfully at you. “You’re not really answering my question.” Now he’s drifted closer to stand in your personal space, scant inches away from you. 

Your eyes lift again to meet his, wary. Afraid of stammering out that you’re in way over your head. Messing things up mere hours after you agreed to this arrangement that he proposed.

He lifts a finger to trace up along your jaw, then further back to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You’re trying to mentally retreat to being at arm’s length again, but you both know it’s way too late for that. 

Dropping your eyes back down to his chest, you gasp, surprised. Faint bite and scratch marks dot across his chest and shoulders. Embarrassment heats your face as you recall everything the two of you did last night. “Oh sweetheart, if you could only see your face right now,” he says, his raspy voice deepening. “Are you sure you want to stay as just friends with benefits, love?”

“Exactly. Friends with benefits. And we’d keep it casual.”

You instantly call him out. “John. You don’t do casual. Casual and John Price is an oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp. You commit 110% in everything you do.”

He cocks his head, grinning at your rebuttal. You’re completely right about him. You’ve seen how intense he is on missions, how dedicated he is to his team. Hell, even how competitive he is at pub trivia nights (which was the actual reason he was out with you tonight–he was your ringer on all things military history).

“I could say the same about you, love. All the more reason to give us a chance? Look, I’m not asking for an answer from you right now, but maybe give it some thought, yeah? I’ll respect your decision either way. We’re adults here.”

“John, I–this…this is a lot to process.”

He nods and lets out a long sigh, drawing his fingers away from your knee. “I completely understand. And…it’s late and I think it’s my cue to go. But…before I do, how about a goodnight kiss?”

You cross your arms, looking at him skeptically.

“I just need something to keep me warm enough for the walk back home. It’s cold out, you know,” he says, straight-faced.

Your mouth twitches, as several comebacks form on the tip of your tongue, but you choose to go with the first one that came immediately to mind.

“Johnny’s been rubbing off on you. I didn’t think you had it in you to be so dramatic. Fine.” 

You lean forward, and before you realize it, he’s pulled you effortlessly on top of him. Straddled on his lap, hands resting lightly on your hips. Giving you the option to get off of him if you wanted to.

“Go on then, give me that kiss,” he softly dares you, an amused look on his face. Seeing your eyes target his cheek, he clarifies. “On the lips.” 

You stare at each other silently for a few more seconds–a charged test of wills over this one small, trivial thing. 

“Incorrigible,” you finally huff, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. Gods, he smelled good, a mixture of whiskey and cigar smoke. 

You gulp, suddenly hesitant, as your eyes meet his.

“It’s just me,” he whispers conspiratorially, one corner of his mouth lifting, eyes crinkling. “It’s just one wee kiss. What possible harm could there be in that?”

You lick your lips and lean forward.

“Yes. Friends with benefits. That was what we agreed on,” you say slowly, faintly, kicking yourself almost instantly as soon as the words come out of your mouth. 

He’s practically giving you an opening, girl! Why didn’t you just take it? your inner voice shrieks.

“You know, I’ve always wondered how it would be between us. Would it be tender, hot, sensual? Filthy and feral? And to know now that it’s all of that, and so much more? Now I’m not so sure about what we agreed to. Maybe you were right. Maybe I can’t do just casual after all,” he rumbles. 

You exhale, closing your eyes briefly. Was he saying this was a mistake? Was this the part where things would get weird and awkward?

“So…what is it then you want?” you mutter in exasperation, slowly scrubbing your face with your hand.

Gently claiming that same hand, he turns the inside of your wrist towards him, planting several reassuring kisses against it, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I want you, love. Never, ever doubt that. But after last night, you’re giving me hope there could be more with us. Like maybe we could be exclusive. That maybe we could…have this every day and night we’re together? What would you say to that?” 

Now he’s right up against you, his hands on either side of your hips, gripping the kitchen counter, his growing erection pressing against your stomach. Bright blue eyes filled with wicked promise stare at you. Watching for your telltale reactions, the same ones he learned intimately last night.

A small involuntary shiver runs through you as you allow yourself to think that there could be something more between the two of you. But was he just teasing, or was he being genuine?

“Why are you trembling? Have I not satisfied you enough? D’you want another go?” 

Despite yourself, you laugh at his attempts to fluster you. A small, breathy moan escapes your lips as he leans down to kiss the side of your neck. 

“I knew it,” you say, eyes fluttering shut as he switches over to kiss the other side of your neck. “This was a straight up seduction. You planned this all along. This was never going to be a friends with benefits thing.”

The kiss started innocently enough, until one of his hands drifted up your back, caressing the nape of your neck. Trailing up gently, his hand tangles in your hair to cup the back of your head. His other arm curls around your lower back to bring your core flush against the growing bulge in his pants. The room was silent save for your soft pants and his low rumbles of encouragement as one kiss turned into several.

“Want more?” he murmurs against your lips, the hand around your back snaking down and around to grab one of your thighs, wrapping it around his waist, bringing you even closer to him.

You nod, followed by a soft whispered yes as you buck your hips against him, trying to ease the ache forming between your legs, only to realize it was making the ache worse.

His hand flexes in your hair, tugging slightly, making you arch your back slightly.

“John?” you gasp as pleasure prickles along your scalp and down your body.

“Yes, love?”

“Friends with benefits? D-do you really mean it?”

John leans back to look at you and shakes his head in disbelief. “How can we just keep it casual when you’ve been asking, pleading, begging me for more all last night? Who’s doing the seducing? Not me. You are. But how can I say no to a smart, tough, beautiful woman like you in need? Turns out, I’m a weak-willed man for you.” 

You scoff faintly at his last statement, but he continues.

“You want to know what my favorite four letter word is now? S’not fuck or cock, or cunt. It’s more. Especially when you whimper it. Cry out saying it with my name. But it’s alright love,” he smirks, kissing down to your exposed collarbones. “You can be greedy. I’m in a giving mood this morning.”

His hands caress your hips, massaging in slow circles over your robe. Drifting upwards, he palms your breasts through the silk fabric, gently tweaking your nipples, rumbling in approval at your hitching breaths. 

“Sweet girl, you sound so pretty when you come,” he utters softly, wet fingers rubbing against your throbbing clit one last time, mouth and beard still shiny with your slick. “Seems like your body was craving something it needed, coming so quickly on my mouth and fingers. Had no idea you tasted so…addictive. Can’t get enough of this.” 

On your back now, catching your breath, you look up at him. Jeans and panties wrenched down to your ankles, caged in between his arms and legs on the loveseat. You watch him lick and suck each of his fingers slowly, humming with satisfaction. You close your eyes briefly, trying to gather your thoughts as you feel your pussy pulse in reaction at his lewd display.

“John?”

“Yes, love?” He groans at the way your eyes open again to meet and hold his gaze. Tentative, yet hungry at the same time. A part of him is ecstatic that he’s finally getting to see this side of you.

Grasping one of his wrists, you ask him hesitantly, “Can we go to the bedroom now?”

He sinks to his knees in front of you, lifting one of your legs to drape over one of his broad shoulders. Rucking up the hem of your robe, he lets out an indistinct sound of approval, seeing that you’re completely bare underneath and dripping wet between your legs. He parts your robe, eyes feasting in appreciation over every exposed curve, slope and stretch mark he sees before he lowers his head again.

He speaks, interspersing kisses up along your inner thigh slowly, his soft beard lightly tickling and abrading your skin.

“You don’t have to say it.” Kiss. “But I know what you want.” Kiss. “Your eyes, your body are telling me everything I need to know about how you feel about me.” Kiss.

You steady your hands on the counter, your standing leg shaking slightly before feeling the heat of his mouth and tongue fasten over your aching clit.

“Such a good girl, riding me like this.”

On your bed, the two of you were entwined in a lotus position, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms wrapped up and around his shoulders as you rocked your hips. You were keening softly as you rode his hard, thick cock. Nipples sensitive from rubbing against his chest hair. Losing your mind at all the filthy and depraved images he was evoking and promising with his rough, gravelly voice.

“John, s’good,” you slur in his ear, the pleasure stealing your ability to form words. “Feels s’good.” You didn’t know it could be like this with him, and now that you had a taste of it, you couldn’t get enough. 

“Always knew it would be…you just needed convincing. Timing was never right. Was trying to be a gentleman,” he rasps, feeling you clench hard around him. “Now you have me. Anytime, anywhere, however you want. I’m all yours.”

A small little alarm in the back of your mind trips at his words. He can’t be saying what you think he is saying…friends don’t just say those things like that…do they?

You cry out as he angles his hips slightly to hit that spot deep inside you. You rake your nails down his back. He grunts slightly at the pain, but he ignores it, focused solely on making you come apart in his arms.

Your thoughts scatter to all but one which you give voice to as you bounce harder on his cock, craving the friction, the feeling of fullness, chasing the orgasm just building, just barely within your reach. 

“More, John. Need more. Please.”

He instantly complies, gripping your hips, thrusting up into you harder.

“Fuuuuck. That’s my girl. Using your words. Coming with you now. Come now, with me.”

Arching your back, white-hot pleasure forms in your gut, expanding and streaking through your body as you shake and whine brokenly, coming harder than you ever had before in your life. Seconds later, you find yourself almost crushed in his arms as he lets loose a feral sound, bucking upwards, feeling him spurt hotly inside you.

“And w-what is it that I’m t-telling you that my words c-can’t?” you stutter, your hands tangled in his hair, biting your lip as his tongue joins the fray against your sensitive clit.

“‘M busy right now, sweetheart, trying to make you come again.” Your thighs partially muffle his words, but his fingers keep busy teasing your folds, his mouth and tongue working their magic against your clit.

You let out a small exasperated laugh-moan. “In-infuriating man…t-trying to get me addicted to your t-touch. That was the p-plan all along, wasn’t it?” you whimper, toes curling, head tilted back. “W-with hot, mind-melting s-sex?”

“Hmm…is it working?” He turns his head, sighing against your inner thigh, kissing and nipping it. You can feel his smile against your skin.

“An-answer my q-question, John.”

You swallow your disappointment as he backs off. He stands up to take a half step back, but is still close enough to close your robe back into place and gather you into his arms.

He whispers your name. “I need to ‘fess up. I genuinely went in proposing this friends with benefits thing, thinking that was what we could have, and it would be enough. Except, once we kissed, I knew that what we agreed to wasn’t going to happen. Especially not after the way we spent the night together. But you were being so serious and earnest about sticking to what we agreed to.”

You let out a long, shaky breath. “I thought that was what you wanted! I didn’t want to mess up our friendship because I was feeling things. Big things, and it wasn’t the same for you,” you quietly trail off.

He cups the side of your face with the palm of his hand.

“Oh sweetheart, it is definitely not one-sided. It’s 100% mutual. I was giving you all those outs so you could change your mind.” He huffs out a small laugh. “And yes, I might’ve been a little underhanded in trying to…persuade you to see it my way first with sex.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were teasing me, or playing some kind of warped game about calling the whole friends with benefits thing off.”

“I’m sorry, love, that wasn’t my intention. You know me. I’m as direct as they come. But I should’ve come clean sooner, to just admit that I can’t even follow the terms that I proposed and not have you doubt yourself. And that this, this is something real and worth having.”

You close the gap to hug him, arms stroking up and down his back.

“I’m blaming the dopamine. Or the serotonin. Or some other unspoken chemistry we’ve had for a long time and we didn’t realize it until last night. I don’t know,” you say half to yourself, half into his chest before you speak up again, looking into his vivid blue eyes. “So what are we to each other, then?”

“Simple. I’m yours, and you’re mine now. That’s all there is to it.”

“I can live with that,” you grin.

“Good.”

The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a few more moments, listening to the sound of the coffee maker finish its brewing before it beeped twice in finality.

“You going to have your coffee?” he asks, tilting his chin towards the appliance.

You shake your head slowly, new possibilities unfurling in your mind with this man standing in front of you. “Coffee can wait. I think…I might want something else first thing this morning,” you smirk at him.

Your hands trail down his back slowly, then around his waist to his front, fingers tangling in the elastic band of his boxer briefs. Snapping the elastic band playfully, you dip one hand below.

You gently grasp his erection, stroking him up and down languidly. Tiptoeing up to kiss the side of his bearded jaw, you murmur, “You don’t have any plans for today, do you? It’s the weekend.”

“No, I don’t, I–fuck...” He chokes on his next words as you stroke him a little more firmly, teasing and circling the tip gently with the pad of your thumb.

“Excellent.” A pause. “So, back to what you said earlier. You said you were a weak-willed man for me?” you purr, emboldened by his responses.

You watch his eyes crinkle in amusement, then shift to surprise as you roughly drag his boxer briefs down to the floor with your free hand.

“And that I’ve been the one doing the seducing?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says solemnly, mouth twitching ever so slightly.

You let out a low, throaty laugh, the sound making his cock twitch in your hold. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” you purr, nipping at his collarbone. “You kept calling me your good girl last night. I loved that. I wonder…are you partial to being called a good boy from time to time? What would you say to that?”

You stroke him exactly the way he showed you last night, making him almost cross his eyes now like he did then. 

“Fuck. Right there, love. I…ah…I could be persuaded.” He lets out a low, sandpaper-rough noise of need. “I have to say, I am really liking how forward…” he shudders, “you’re being right now.”

You give him a hungry smile as you open your robe, sending it slithering to the floor. “I’m just taking a page out of your playbook, John. Now, let’s go back to bed.”

“Yes ma’am.”

John Price masterlist | Main Masterlist

BARRY SLOANE as Joe 'Bear' Graves in SIX (2017—2018) Episode 1.07 Blood Brothers

john price would trap you with a baby. no questions asked. he knew the years were catching up to him. he knew that wouldn't be much longer before he couldn't pass on the price genes.

he felt bad when he masturbated, felt like he was wasting his boys. spurts of hot cum down his large shaft wishing that it was inside a pretty little things smaller cunt. his hand was too rough even with lubrication. he needed something with supple flesh that he could sink his teeth into and a wet pussy to stuff full. he wanted to feel himself impregnating someone.

that was where you came in.

you felt amazing, sex with you was something else. the way you were like a bunny when you rode his cock. you bounced on him, not slowing down until he wrung at least three orgasms out of you. he found it endearing that you could take him. and while cowgirl was fun and missionary felt classic.

if price wanted to get you pregnant then, he knew that doggy style would be the best course of action. sadly, that position was a little more difficult given your size difference. price the bear and his little cub, those weren't just terms of endearment. he was burly, hairy, but you were so much shorter that he couldn't easily slip into you. but things could always be modified.

he smothered you under him as you laid on the bed with your legs spread and price was on top of you with his cock invading your slick entrance. the feeling was different and the weight on top of you only added to the pleasure.

his mind was focused, as he worked himself into you. he slid in easily, little resistance from you. your pussy was greedy for him, not that price could blame you. you were just so perfect for him. he shaped you into the perfect thing for him. you were his angel, the sweetest fruit, the woman he wanted to carry his child. if you liked it or not.

thoughts of you dark puffy nipples, the waddle in your step, the complaints of back pain. how your body changed because of him, he marked you in a way that no other man could. price boys grew strong and were a handful both in the womb and out. hungry boys too, but price would happily massage your fat tits to make sure there was more than enough milk for his boys. might have a little taste himself, see what all the fuss was. the heavy milk on his tongue as he fucked his pretty wife.

no need to go out and find a job. price's got enough to make sure that your wallet and your womb were packed full. no need to worry your little head, just make sure the babies are taken care of and price will do all the thinking in the relationship. he knew your dream was to see your diploma on the wall, but he thought that a family photo would be much better.

hard to complete your degree when your pregnant belly doesn't fit in the lecture hall seat or it was feeding time for john jr. there was nowhere for you to nurse his hefty son and you'd in the end miss too much class because price would be keeping you at home to start on the next one.

"that's it, doll. that's my girl. she suckin' me right in. she know what she wants and she's takin' it. made just for, huh, petal?" he growled as he pressed into you further, his cock didn't slip out. he fucked you feverishly.

he felt you tremble as you came not once, but twice, back to back. price continued to fuck you, ruin your pretty little folds and let him feel as much as he could of your sweet sex. you felt amazing, only pussy price would want. he fucked you roughly with his hands pressed into the covers on either side of your head. you were too blissed out by the time he finished inside of you that you didn't even ask for him to pull out.

a good wife took every drop.

he soon after pulled his cock out, the sight of his cum sticking to your slick pussy lips with most of his seed inside of you. made his cock peek at attention once more. "there she is." he purred, "messy girl." he tipped your hips up and held them in his large hands. he dipped between your legs and played with your pussy. something to distract you while his cum slid into the back of your pussy.

now be good, and get pregnant <3

a/n: i don't know what came over me... i'm sorry

price getting hurt on a mission and you have to help bandage him up as he tries not to lose consciousness. he gets so loopy from the blood loss he starts to expose his inner thoughts, calling you pretty and how often he thinks about you. “mmm y’smell s’good, love,” he mumbles aimlessly, slurring his words slightly. his fingers running through your hair as you work on his bullet wound, his voice barely a whisper “fuckin’ torturing me.” and you’re not sure if he means because you're hurting him physically or something else entirely.

Winning Them Over

pairing: John Price x Younger!Reader

synopsis: Spending New Year’s with your family was always filled with traditions and warmth, but this time, it’s different. Introducing John Price to your parents adds a layer of tension you didn’t anticipate. Between your dad’s probing questions, your mom’s quiet doubts, and your own nerves, the evening is a test of patience, love, and John’s unshakable resolve.

word count: 2168

warnings: Family tension, age-gap dynamics (reader late-twenties and John late-thirties), protective parents, but lots of eventual fluff.

The drive to your parents’ house was quiet, though the silence between you and John wasn’t empty. It buzzed with the kind of unspoken tension that came when two people prepared for an inevitable battle—though in this case, the battlefield was your parents’ living room.

John’s hands rested calmly on the steering wheel, his steady presence grounding you in a way that you desperately needed. But no matter how many reassuring glances he sent your way, your nerves refused to settle. 

“You alright, love?”  he finally asked, his deep voice breaking through the spiral of anxious thoughts swirling in your head.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though the nervous tapping of your fingers on your thigh betrayed you.

“Sure about that?” he asked, a hint of a smile softening his words.

You sighed, leaning back against the seat. “You’ve met stubborn recruits, right? Ones who won’t back down no matter what?”

“Plenty.”

“That’s my dad.”

John chuckled. “He’s just protective. I’d expect nothing less.”

“It’s not just him,” you muttered. “It’s my brother, my mom, my aunts, uncles—basically everyone. And don’t even get me started on my grandparents.”

He reached over, resting a comforting hand on your knee. “You’re worth it, love. Let me handle the lot of them.”

As the house came into view, its glowing windows and faint sounds of laughter wrapped in a blanket of snow, your stomach twisted.

When you pulled into the driveway, the house was already alive with movement. Warm light spilled from the windows, and the muffled sounds of laughter and chatter filtered through the cold night air.

The door flew open before you could knock, revealing your younger cousin Sam, who immediately shouted back into the house, “They’re here!” He bolted inside, leaving the door wide open.

Your mom was next to appear, pulling you into a warm hug before her gaze shifted to John. “This must be him,” she said, her tone polite but cautiously curious.

“Yes, ma’am,” John replied smoothly, shaking her hand. “Thank you for having me.”

Her smile was polite, though the flicker of hesitation in her eyes was impossible to miss.

Before she could say more, your dad appeared, his broad frame filling the doorway. He scanned John with a critical eye before clasping his hand in a firm, deliberate handshake. “So, this is the boyfriend,” he said, his tone heavy with skepticism.

“Dad,” you said quickly, stepping in to buffer the tension. “This is John Price.”

John offered his hand without hesitation. “Sir,” he said, meeting your dad’s gaze evenly.

Your dad’s handshake was firm—too firm—and his eyes didn’t leave John’s. “Military, right?”

“Yes, sir. Captain.”

Your dad released his grip, though his expression didn’t soften. “Well, let’s hope that discipline carries over into how you treat my daughter.”

“Dad,” you interjected, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

John, steady as ever, responded calmly. “It does, sir. With all due respect, your daughter is the most important person in my life. I treat her with the care she deserves.”

Your dad grunted, stepping aside but clearly not convinced.

In the living room, chaos reigned. Your aunts buzzed in the kitchen, their voices rising and falling in a rhythm only they understood. Your uncles were sprawled on the couches, debating loudly over a football game.

“So, you’re the infamous John,” your Uncle Robert said, leaning back in his chair with a beer in hand.

“Infamous?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, we’ve heard a lot about you,” Uncle Robert replied with a grin. “The age gap, the military background. It’s all very… interesting.”

Before you could snap a retort, John replied smoothly, “I’m glad to be a topic of interest. Hopefully, I can live up to the hype.”

That earned a laugh from your Uncle Paul. “He’s quick. I like him.”

“He’s not here for you to like, Paul,” your dad muttered, glaring at his brother.

John’s calm reply cut through the tension. “I’m here for her. But earning your family’s trust is just as important to me.”

In the corner, your grandparents were observing quietly, their expressions unreadable. Finally, your grandfather spoke up, his voice gravelly with age.

“You’ve been in the service a long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” John said, straightening slightly. “Twenty years.”

Your grandfather nodded slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing. “And now you’re looking to settle down? Start a new chapter?”

John hesitated, then met his gaze steadily. “I am. And your granddaughter is the best chapter I could’ve asked for.”

The room fell silent for a moment before your grandfather let out a low chuckle. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Your grandmother smiled faintly. “He’s polite. That’s rare these days.”

Meanwhile, your little cousins had taken to bombarding John with questions. 

“Uncle John!” Peter exclaimed, dragging him toward the couch.

“You’re in the army, right? Does that mean you can fight anything?”

“Have you ever fought a shark?” little Tim asked tugging at John’s sleeve, his eyes wide with curiosity.

John leaned down to his level, his expression serious. “You know, I’ve never met a shark brave enough to try me.”

“Whoa,” Jane whispered, her mouth forming a perfect O. “What about a lion?”

“Lions aren’t too keen on me either,” John replied, straightening up with a grin. “Guess I must be scary.”

“And a bear?” Sam added, bouncing on her toes.

John crouched to their level, his tone serious. “Not a bear or a shark—but once, I wrestled a crocodile the size of a car. Oh and I even had to outsmart a pack of Dinosaurs” John said with a straight face earning gasps and giggles from the kids.

Jamie chimed in, “Bet you could take down a dragon too!”

John leaned in, his voice low. “Depends. Fire-breathing dragons? Or ice ones?"

The kids erupted into a debate, forgetting to press for more stories as John gave you a knowing smile.

Looking at the scene your cousins Henry and Sarah cornered. “So, he’s the guy, huh?” Henry asked, tilting his head toward John.

“Yes, he’s the guy,” you replied, your tone edging toward exasperation.

Henry smirked. “He looks like he could snap a tree in half.”

“Good thing he’s on your side,” Sarah added with a wink.

In the living room, your brother Matthew leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he observed John with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“So,” Matthew said, finally speaking up, “what’s it like dating someone so much younger? Bet it’s a nice change of pace from all the army guys.”

“Matthew!” you hissed, glaring at him.

John, however, didn’t miss a beat. “It’s not about age. It’s about connection. Your sister and I understand each other—that’s what matters.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting such a composed response. “That’s a good answer,” he admitted, though his tone was still tinged with skepticism. “But let’s hope you keep proving it.”

“Plan to,” John said calmly, his expression unchanging.

Inside the kitchen, your aunts were bustling in the kitchen, their chatter blending with the clatter of pots and pans.

“So, he’s the boyfriend,” Aunt Lisa said as she stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She gave John an exaggerated once-over. “You didn’t say he’d be so… imposing.”

“Handsome,” Aunt Rachel added, grinning.

“Both,” Lisa corrected with a wink.

You groaned, shooting John an apologetic look, but he just chuckled.

By the time dinner rolled around, the dining room was filled with the overlapping sounds of clinking silverware and animated conversation. Your dad took every opportunity to steer the discussion toward John—his job, his past, his future plans with you.

“So,” your dad said, leaning back in his chair, “where do you see this going?”

John didn’t miss a beat. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t see an end. I’m here because I want to build a life with her.”

Your mom’s fork paused halfway to her mouth, her eyes flicking between you and John. The room fell quiet for a beat, the weight of John’s words settling over the table.

“Well,” your dad said finally, clearing his throat. “I suppose time will tell.”

Later, while helping mom and aunties in the kitchen, your mom finally voiced what had been simmering beneath her polite exterior.

“He’s lovely,” she said, glancing at you over her shoulder. “But… he’s older.”

You sighed, setting down the tray of glasses you were carrying. “Mom, we’ve been over this. Age doesn’t matter to us.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “But it’s hard not to worry. You’re young. You have so much ahead of you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

You stepped closer, your voice firm but gentle. “Mom, I’ve never been more sure of anything. John is kind, patient, and he loves me in a way no one else ever has. He makes me happy. Isn’t that what matters?”

She studied you for a long moment, her expression softening. “You’re happy?”

“Completely,” you said.

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Then I’ll trust you. But don’t expect your dad to come around so easily.”

“That makes two of us,” you muttered, earning a quiet laugh from her.

As midnight approached, while most of the family gathered in the living room for the countdown, you found yourself helping your dad with the fireplace. The crackle of the logs filled the quiet space, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

You glanced at your dad, his familiar furrowed brow mirroring the weight of your own nerves. If there was ever a time to be honest, it was now. “I know the age thing bothers you.”

He paused, his hands stilling as he adjusted the logs. “It’s not just the age,” he replied, crossing his arms. “It’s the life experience, the gap in where you both are.”

“I get that,” you said, meeting his gaze. “But John and I aren’t about the years we’ve lived. We’re about how we make each other feel—safe, supported, loved. Isn’t that what matters?”

He hesitated, his expression softening. “I just don’t want you rushing into something you’ll regret.”

“I’m not,” you said firmly. “This is the most certain I’ve ever been about anything.”

Your dad’s brow furrowed deeper. “You know, I wasn’t sure about John at first either,” you added with a small laugh, hoping to ease the tension.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you said smiling. “I thought the same things you’re probably thinking—he’s older, experienced, and his world is so different from mine. But the more I got to know him, the more I realized that he doesn’t just make me happy; he makes me better.”

Your dad was silent for a moment, his hands pausing in their work. “That’s a high bar,” he muttered, but the tension in his tone lessened.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

“Sure,” he said warily.

“How did you know Mom was the one?”

He blinked, taken aback. “Well, I just… knew. She made me feel alive, like no one else ever had.”

You smiled softly. “That’s how I feel about John. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me. Isn’t that what you’d want for me?”

Your dad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me.”

As you stepped away from the fireplace, your dad lingered there, his gaze distant but thoughtful. The warm glow of the flames danced across his features, softening the usual stern lines of his expression. You could tell he was still mulling over your conversation, weighing your words against his protective instincts.

John was waiting for you near the window, his steady presence like a beacon pulling you away from your swirling emotions. When his arm slipped around your waist, the warmth of his touch grounded you.

“Still holding up alright?” John murmured, slipping an arm around your waist.

“Better than I thought,” you said, leaning into him. “I think you’re winning them over.”

“Mission accomplished, then,” he said, his lips brushing your temple.

Ten… nine… eight…

Your dad caught John’s gaze and gave a small nod, subtle but meaningful. It wasn’t a surrender, but it was the beginning of something—a fragile truce, an acknowledgment,  a reluctant but meaningful sign of approval.

Three… two… one…

Cheers erupted as the clock struck midnight. John turned to you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Happy New Year, love,” he murmured, his eyes holding yours for a heartbeat before he kissed you. 

John Price × fem!reader

The only purpose of this post is to appreaciate titties

One thing John Price loves are your breast. He doesn't care about size, if they're perky or not, just boobs. It makes him happy. It's like a switch in his brain.

He's sad? Boobs. He's stressed? Boobs. He's tired? Boobs. He's arguing with you? Show your titties, he will shut up and worship the ground you walk on.

John Price just needs a pair of tits, a nice cigar and some whiskey to have a perfect life.

It think his breeding kink gets stronger when he realizes that your breast will swell with milk and probaly grow a cup size or two.

Expect him to paw at your body the whole time. Just feeling the soft skin, the squish, your cute baby bumb, more squish and your curves (more squish)

Barry Sloane as Zachary Heflin Longmire (2012-2017) Pt. 2