I just realized that I didn’t really introduce myself when I first came here and just started writing shit off gate so I should probably do that in some way..
But instead of yapping your ears off, I made this “mood board”(or whatever tf it is) to give you a peek of my personality.
Dude I’ve been gone for damn centuries, and I just want to inquire.. is NikPrice still a thing in the big 26?😅
I don’t write as much, nor do I indulge in COD content as much as I used to, but those two big burly men will always be in the back of my mind somewhere making out or something..
Do you guys ever think that John gets salty when Nik is busy?
Like, he used to hear Nik complain all the time when he was out doing whatever for the country, and honestly he would brush it off with a, “I’ll be back love”, or something like that. But now that he’s less busy, he wants to make up for lost time and give every hour of his day to the Russian.. except he’s busy now, and John isn’t too happy.
Nik doesn’t pay too much attention to John’s attitude and brushes it off as his husband just having one of “those moments”, but little does he know that same husband of his is pacing around their room while he’s out on leave wondering if he should call or text, yet holding back to avoid coming off as clingy.
John’s just got a lot to figure out… and maybe Nik needs to ask more questions.
I truthfully think that Nik will take pictures or videos of John when they’re doing the do, and whenever the captain tries to deny sounding any kind of way or being put into any kind of position, Nik will pull out the evidence and show him, leaving John gobsmacked.
..he might even put him in that same position to mess with his mental a bit too.
Sometimes when John and Nik are home and feeling “spicy”, they like to make out like horny teenagers on their living room couch. Nik would have his hands on John’s hips and guide them back and forth while John’s hands slipped through Nik’s hair and down his body.
After them got all their.. “frustrations” off, they’d sit in silence and just admire each other with a goofy smile on their faces.
SO.. I’ve been gone for a little bit😅 but I promise I haven’t abandoned this blog, I’ve just been ridiculously busy for the past.. what, three, four months??
Another tibbit will be coming soon though, so stay tuned!✨
promises promises... something something they're in love bc they're loyal. idk nobody look at me this is just thoughts I had... Idk idk this is kinda poorly done imo...
cw: canon typical violence
It had been late, the night before deployment. Rain drizzling against the tin of the hangar and the the sound of a lighter flicking open and closed.
“If it ever comes to it,” Price said, almost casually, “don’t wait for me.”
Nikolai had smiled then, half amused. “You make it sound like I have a choice.”
“Promise me.” Price met his eyes, drawing another long inhale from the cigar.
And Nikolai, damn him, had promised in a smokey kiss.
And now it seemed the world was ending in gunfire.
Bullets cut the air. The evac zone burned. The helicopter shuddered under Nikolai’s hands, rotors screaming as he fought to keep her steady.
Through the haze, Soap and Ghost ran, half dragging Gaz between them, Gaz’s arm slick with blood. Nikolai watched as they broke cover.
They hoisted themselves into the helicopter, Ghost slamming the door with a metallic thud.
Nikolai twisted in his seat. “Where is John?!”
Ghost’s mask was streaked with blood. His voice shouted over the headset, “He’s buying us time.”
Nikolai’s stomach turned to stone. He looked back toward the smoke and caught a glimpse of Price crouched behind a broken wall, firing one-handed, blood dark on his sleeve. Always last out. Always holding the line.
“Get us in the air!” Ghost barked. Soap shouted something, trying to claw the door open, but Ghost pinned him back. “That’s an order from Price. Nik, go!"
Nik watched for a split-second more. Long enough to see Price take a hit.
Square in his chest.
Price jerked backward, still firing, then disappeared under the surge of enemy silhouettes.
“No!” Soap cried.
Nikolai’s throat burned. “Damn it—” He slammed the throttle forward.
The helicopter tore free of the ground, climbing hard. The wind howled through the cabin, drowning out Soap's shouting. Down below, the field vanished, fire shrinking to embers.
Nik could hear them shouting at each other in his headset as they patched Gaz. But he couldn't quite catch the words over his own shock. So just flew, hands shaking as his vision blurred.
Like an idiot, he had promised, because John Price would never forgive him if one of the boys didn’t make it home alive.
thank you!! i love that i get tagged literally the day after i went through and deleted a bunch of pics because i have no stroage lmao
no pressure tags @promotional-dvd @spookypeachpitt13 @thedamnqueenofhell @angelamariaxo @officiallyallmight (who might be able to recognize some of the guys in these photos other than mr wyle lmao) and anyone else who wants to join in <3
Nik realised there was something wrong within seconds of seeing Price. It was bloody irritating how well Nik could read him. He'd only got better at it since they'd mated, like he had an inside track on the thoughts in Price’s head. Probably something to do with the bond; some part of sex ed that Price hadn't paid attention to because he never intended to mate.
Price caught the curious glances, the fleeting touches, that he realised he couldn't keep the bloody secret. That itchy feeling Nik felt under his skin, the sense that something was amiss, would never go away. The secret would sit between them; a thorn, an invisible shadow. There were parts of their lives they couldn't share, not until Price hung up his tags and swapped his M4 for a fishing rod permanently, but this felt too big to carry on his own. He wanted to share the burden, but the fear of how Nik would react sad like lead in his belly.
There was no easy way to do it. Price ran several scenarios in his head, including sending a bloody text. ‘Nik, I'm knocked up, termination booked’, but he couldn't press send. The thought of Nik processing it on his own, stuck in some lonely hotel room with John's blunt words on the screen in front of him, made Price feel queasy. So he waited until they were safely back at his flat, where the damn deed had been done in the first place. The sheets were fresh, but Price could still feel the ghost of Nik's touch, his lips, the weight of his body, whenever he glanced into his bedroom.
Nik stood at the kitchen sink rinsing the dishes while Price sat at the island, trying to work himself up to telling Nik during the ten o’clock news, when two warm arms would be wrapped around his waist. Price was so lost in his own thoughts that he missed Nik drying his hands and circling behind his stool.
Nik pushed his nose into John's hair, one hand slipping up his shirt to press gently against his belly. Like he knew, instinctually, that there was something there to protect. He was breathing deeply through his nose; scenting something peculiar, Price realised. His hormones had changed to the point Nik could smell his damn pup.
“Nik, uh… there's somethin’ we need to talk about,” Price said, running his palm over the top of Nik's hand. He felt the subtle shift; a coil of apprehension winding through Nik's body. Price hooked one socked foot around the leg of the stool next to him and dragged it out far enough for Nik to slide into it.
“Is everything okay?” Nik asked.
“‘m not dumpin’ ya, ya muppet.”
Nik’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “That is a relief.”
The words stuck in Price's throat as he saw the brightness return to Nik's face. He really fucking cared, didn't he? This wasn't just a pit stop for him. This was it. The pack, Price; this was everything he wanted and for a moment there he had been concerned about losing it. Thing is, with Nik, he was an overthinker. On the outside, he was laid back, not easily ruffled, but Price had watched him lay awake in the early hours percolating a dodgy deal, an awkward conversation, a poor choice. Nik was a worrier. Perhaps it came with the dominant alpha role. Either way, Price knew he couldn't give him another thing to stew over. Price swallowed, opened his mouth, but still the words wouldn't come, so he grabbed his rucksack from the floor and found what he was looking for in his side pocket.
He placed the stick on the countertop and stared at it rather than Nik because he didn't want to see his face. Not because of the fear of disappointment, or anger, or… No, it was the opposite. He didn't want to see what he knew, in his heart, he would see there.
Nik took the stick from the counter and gazed at it for a moment. It looked so small in his big hands. Price's weren't small by any stretch of the imagination, but Nik was just bigger. Those were hands made for holding and protecting, and Price wanted their comfort more than anything in that moment.
“This is yours?” Nik whispered.
“I tested three times. All positive. ‘m definitely knocked up, and it's yours Nik, can’t be any of the lads ‘cause the timin’ doesn't match.”
Price heard the stuttered breath and chanced a glance up. Nik's face was a wreckage of emotion, his dark eyes shining, his lower lip pressed into his mouth as he chewed it for control.
Price felt that surge of indignant anger he always felt when pushed into the back foot. Not quite the tidal wave when Shepherd had sneered ‘or what?’ nor when he'd realised letting Makarov slip away had bit him in the arse, but it was there all the same. “I ain't bloody cheated before y–”
Nik left the stool and in the next breath Price was buried against his chest, strong arms wrapped snugly around his back, head tucked beneath Nik's chin. He felt the stuttering breath rattle out of Nik's mouth, and the lingering kiss pushed into the untidy fluff of his hair. A cold feeling settled in the pit of Price's stomach as he realised that this was a hug of elation. When Nik pulled away, his eyes were a little red, glistening, and he cupped Price's jaw, glancing down at the stick in his hand. “How long? Two months, perhaps?”
Price cleared his throat. “Yeah, ‘bout that…”
“This…” Nik half laughed, incredulous, thumb brushing over Price's cheek as big fingers cupped the back of his neck. “A pup, John. A pup.” It was comforting, the weight, but Price couldn't take his eyes off of Nik's face. He was so fuckin’ happy. Price's blood thundered in his ears, like a rush, his heart beating hard against the cage of his ribs as he felt something heavy close in around him. “I believed I would never… I thought my chance had passed.”
This was when he had to say something. To cut it off at the knees. But he just… he couldn't. The words turned to ash in the heat of Nik's joy. The way Nik's deep voice broke around the last word like it was too much for it to handle, the soft smile on his lips, the way he looked up to study Price's face with gentle concern. “I thought you were looking…”
“...like shit?”
“Like shit.”
“Yeah, well, it… been throwin’ up half the mornings. Feeling queasy, I–” Nik's palm pressed over his belly, retracing the path he had stroked previously, but with a new reverence. His fingertips left prickles of pleasure in their wake, playing in the fur of Price's happy trail before tucking just into his waistband below the slight curve. Nik was imagining what he would look like further on; heavy with their pup, body swollen and aching. Nik would hold him, wouldn't he? He would worship his pregnant body as much as he did his operation fit one. The thought made Price dIzzy, a little nauseous. Goosebumps erupted on his arms, but when he looked up to say something, to try and broach the subject of what next, Nik kissed him.
It was deep, breathtaking. Nik's arms wrapped his back, palms stroking down to the curve of his arse as he stepped forward, nudging Price's thighs apart. Nik caressed him, coaxing his body easily into a needy arch as his palms and fingers worked their magic, teasing him with promise. Nik broke the kiss and dragged his teeth down the edge of Price’s jaw, and then his lips and tongue were working at his mating mark. “Ah… ah, Nik…”
“You are so beautiful, so strong,” Nik whispered against his skin, soft kisses tracing his neck. Those big hands scooped beneath his arse and lifted him from the chair, all six foot two of him. Nik was one of the few who could, and he carried Price into the bedroom, Price’s cunt bumping and rubbing against the hard bulge in the front of his sweats.
Nik set him down on the sheets like a precious thing and removed their clothes in a prolonged act of worship, every new inch of skin caressed or kissed. Wet, panting, Price arched into it, desperate for the grounding weight of Nik's body over him, the certainty of his touch, the hot, hungry work of his mouth as he pushed Price's thighs back and apart so that he could feast between them like a man indulging in a banquet. Price came on his tongue and Nik groaned in heady euphoria as slick dripped down his chin. When he rose onto his knees, his thick cock pressed inside in a single, glorious thrust that left Price gasping, clenching the sheets. Like Gaz, Nik was gentle, kissing, whispering softly, the firm slap of his hips making the bed springs whine but the touch of his hands and lips a tender comfort.
Price's eyes rolled back in his head and he let himself drift in the intensity of Nik's passion. Strong fingers threaded through his hair, tilting his head back so that his alpha could nip and lick at his throat, John's heels knocking into the curve of Nik's arse as it rose and fell in deep, rhythmic thrusts. The swells of pleasure were constant, Price's body responding to Nik's scent, his chuffs, his perfect cock with tight, eager squeezes. He was so wet, it was pooling in the bedsheets, soaking Nik's heavy balls as they slapped against him.
The knot stretched him perfectly as it always did, the flood of heat - thick, fertile cum that had got him into this fuckin’ mess - made his toes curl in instinctive delight. Like, now his body had confirmation his dominant alpha could breed him, it was even keener on him.
He didn't.
Nik groaned into his throat, nuzzled his beard, and stayed only long enough for his twitching cock to still before he rolled slowly onto his back. Price settled in the fur of his chest, eyes lidded, and inhaled deep lungfuls of scent as that leaden weight returned.
Nik stroked circles on Price's back with lazy fingertips. “The others should find out soon.”
Price swallowed, pressing his eyes closed. Fuck. He was a fucking coward, he– “Yeah. ‘Course.”
“And I will tell Yuri, Laswell… but at twelve weeks, no?”
“Yeah, I… I dunno ‘ow any of this works.”
“You are nervous.”
“Course I bloody am.”
Nik pressed another kiss into his hair. “We will be here. Every step of the way. No matter what happens.” Nik's voice sounded soft, fainter, as he drifted towards a doze with his omega draped over his body, pregnant, and knotted again.
“I know,” Price whispered as Nik's breathing evened out.
Price has learned never to change in front of Nik unless he wants to end up in some sort of position.
This was learned when he came back from the gym and had taken a cold shower after burning up almost the entire morning. Stepping out the bathroom, he only got a chance to put on deodorant and boxers before Nik was on him, pressing him against the bathroom door and mouthing his neck.
John didn’t even notice he’d came in, nor did he notice the Russian undoing his towel. All he could focus on was the lips trailing from his neck to his chest, eventually latching on to a hardened nipple and sucking as if it’d produce milk for the man(which got Price harder than he’d like to admit).
…
(Lowkey.. this is all I got y’all 😭 I’m having mad writer’s block cuz I haven’t been here in a bit, so please please give me a smidge of grace?🤏🏾 I’ll finish this eventually)
Greekgod!Price watching from the shadows as a Russian artist sits in front of his statue and stares at it, admiring the human-made representation of him. From his hair, to his eyes, and even down to his feet.
People looking at the statue wasn’t uncommon, as a matter of fact it was almost everyday someone stopped and stared for a bit as they did every other piece of art in the gallery. But this random man with jet black hair actually took the time to sit down and properly look at him. See all his perfections and imperfections, the little scars that were nicked into his arms and back, every minor detail that others overlooked.
And frankly, Price was flustered.
This man— human man— was seeing him for all he was and more, and he didn’t know how to handle that.
Nik manhandling and railing a sassy lieutenant price for snapping and mouthing off at him for whatever reason
Correct.
The lieutenant doesn't seem to get the memo either- that his mouth is that what landed him in this position. That being bent over the desk in his office, papers and stationary litter the floor after being thrown to the side by an overzealous swipe of an arm.
His chest aches with how hard Nikolai had slammed him down and he can taste the blood that coats his teeth from the slow weeping wound from where he bit through his cheek with the impact.
Yet the shit-eating grin remains, satisfied and amused at being able to push Nik’s buttons until he broke. Until the calm exterior was traded for a biting glare and John was being bodily shoved across camp and through hallways until they got to his office.
Exactly where John wanted them to be.
Nikolai had taken no time to shove his trousers down and growl at finding John’s already prepped slick hole- just as he had planned.
John had been eager for this, for Nikolai to lose control and take it out on his ass and honestly, he had expected it to take more of a push- Nik could be an infuriatingly patient man despite the man’s mean streak that ran a mile long.
As it turns out, it took no time at all.
John just had to push, mouth off a little, tease and needle at him. The final straw, as it turned out, was some meaningless flirting- wear tighter clothes, bend a little too far, bat his eyelashes, and the man was twitching with barely concealed fury.
MacMillan always said that he had a gob on him and a knack for not knowing when to stop...
“You are infuriating.” Nikolai’s breath is hot against his ear as he presses in deep, chest to John’s back as the lieutenant gasps and stretches out against the quickly warming wood.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” His smile is smothered beneath Nikolai’s hand, fingers pushing in harshly so that the puppy fat of his cheeks bulged.
“You talk too much, solnyshko. I much prefer-” Nik rolls his hips and John’s answering cry is lost in his palm, “when you sing.”
What kind of sleeping position does each of the 141 members have? Are they more "Victorian Damsel in Distress" or "A Victorian Child Dying of Scarlet Fever"?
Simon sleeping in a way that protects his head and organs, :(. Trying not to take up space meanwhile Johnny's just spread out everywhere. Also Simon sleeping against the wall with Johnny between him and the door AUGH.
Also I see you Roach, living up to the name I see.
