Too much? I did say I'd write anything if I remember correctly.
You didn't see Price as your dad, he was more of a... friend, buddy would be more correct.
Sure. You two got through great and all. But every now and then he'd scold you for miniscule things. And it was especially stupid, because you were an adult.
"Yaknow kid... I don't reckon you should be going out so often." He said while scanning your clothes. You sighed in response. "I'm an adult." I snapped at him.
"Still my kid." He said and stood up from the couch, "Do i really need to be teaching you discipline and consequences at this age?"
From there, you dug your own grave. Snapping at him a couple times. Just up until the man dragged you to the couch by your arm and threw you over his lap. His hand smacked against your skin. Earning a whimper.
He massaged the skin for a bit, before giving it a harder smack. He was surprised you weren't fighting back.
But judging by the stuff he found on you computer... you liked even more stuff
And no, he didn't go snooping. You are just very bad at closing tabs and computers.
By the time he finished, your ass was red and eyes teary,
"Did you learn your lesson now?" He asked. And you answered with a light nod.
He let you up and patted your back. Like nothing happened. "Next time you act up. I'm gonna give you something more then a smack on the wrist."
You could see the way he rubbed his palm against his cock. Making the implication clear.
"You know. I'll come tuck you in to make sure you go to sleep."
may i talk about stepdad!price getting all jealous and possessive if he ever sees you interact with another guy? he won't make a scene cause he believes men his age shouldn't be so emotional so he just cums on your panties. next time that that boy next door tries to talk to you, his precious cum will remind you of who owns you <3
oh so gross and icky i love it. 𖧁୧ stepcest, price is gross and possessive, dubcon maybe? 18+
John should’ve felt bad. Sneaking into his stepdaughter’s room and snooping through her underwear drawer was bad enough, but fisting his cock to the point of drenching her panties in his cum? Well… he just couldn’t help himself.
You tease him, he’s sure, fluttering your lashes in his direction while you talk about your upcoming dates with that boy you met a month ago. Oh, he’s so nice, John, he hasn’t even kissed me yet. You poke and taunt, and then expect dear old Stepdaddy to do nothing about it.
You’re a daft little thing, truly. You deserve someone wise, someone who will protect you, not some stupid kid who’ll wave his cock around inside you for a few minutes before pulling out without a care in the world about your pleasure. You deserve better than that, sweetheart, you really do. You deserve a real man who’ll hold you down and wreck you until you forget that prick’s name.
Being in your room and rifling through your stuff was reckless, John knows, but the lace between his fingertips just felt so good, like it was meant to be in his hand. And knowing you’d worn it against your most precious parts, places he’d longed to be, places he’d only dreamt about, made him utterly woozy, his groin practically aching for relief.
Unsurprisingly, the lace felt even better wrapped around his cock—rough in the most pleasurable way but soft enough to have him groaning. He pumped the fabric along his length, his clear pre dribbling out from his swollen pink tip and sinfully staining your underwear. His eyes bounced around your room as he worked himself. Everything was just so quintessentially you, even the air smelt like you, sweet and innocent, and that alone undid him.
His eyes landed on your unmade bed, and he let out a breathless chuckle. John thought about the rushed kiss you’d pressed to his cheek this morning as you stumbled past him with a cheeky, “See you later, Pa!”
God, you’ll be the death of him one day.
It didn’t take long for him to unload into the fabric, his spurts of white seed ruining the lace. It was euphoric, as much as it was perverse—the heat blooming in his lower stomach and bliss dancing up his spine. John’s worn eyes fluttered down to your underwear in his hand. He’d cum right on the gusset, right where your pretty little pussy lips had been before. That was a sight now forever singed into his brain.
John continued to stare at the pearly white puddle as his high fizzled out. He hesitated for a moment—did he pocket the underwear, or did he throw them back into the drawer and wait to see what an innocent little thing like you would do with cum-stained panties?
Who was he joking? It was no question.
What surprised John, though, was seeing the same lace peeking out of your jeans the next morning. The way your eyes peered at him over your coffee mug, glimmering with challenge, had his brain spinning a thousand miles an hour.
He knows you didn’t do a load of laundry last night, and you– oh… oh. You disgusting girl. You’re just as bad as he is.
Does this get you off? Wearing underwear soiled by your stepdad? he had to wonder. God, you’re a dumb little girl, just asking for it with those blowjob eyes and shy smile.
John wanted to take the bait, he really did, but his pride held him back—watching the need dance around in your eyes fuelled something dark in him. You wanna be a good girl and feel my cum in your pussy? Earn it. Quit dicking around with that asshole. Come to Daddy, be my good girl.
note: this is a prequel to a possible series with stepdad!price x innocent!reader (obviously). reader is of age.
note 2: price is 37 reader is about 18-19 (DARK STORY !!!!!), reader gets picked up by price, 6'5 beefy price, shorter reader
໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა
lying your head on your stepfather's shoulder, you pressed your front against his side--leg thrown over his as you two got comfortable on the couch as you began watching a movie. a blanket thrown over the two of you as you nuzzled your head further into his shoulder, nibbling on your lower lip as you focused intently on the movie.
price let out a shaky breath, his eyes glancing from you to the tv to you again.
don't do it.
she's forbidden fruit.
but she is the sweetest fruit of all.
he kissed the top of your head, and you replied with his action by taking his hand under the blanket and absent-mindedly twisting the rings on his finger.
one of his rings: the wedding band.
the wedding band from the wedding between your mother and him.
it seared his skin.
he could not help that he had gotten married to the wrong person.
it should have been you.
but he had to remind himself that you were much too young.
freshly an adult. and he was 37. 37.
what the fuck was wrong with him?
he can't help that he fell in wrong with you.
you were too young..too innocent. too pure. he had blood on his hands.
your small hands fidgeted with his large, warm ones as you traced his knuckles with your cold fingers, creating odd designs that warmed his chest.
he must have been much too into his thoughts, as you giggled at something that happened in the movie, grasping and ungrasping his hand as you continued to fidget with his rings.
you looked up at him, your lips so close to his as you smiled softly. everything in him wanted to capture your lips in a kiss. your first kiss.
but he knew he couldn't.
instead, his softened eyes watched your face with pure love.
you snuggled impossibly closer to him, practically on his lap.
"honey?" his voice was deep but soft. he cleared his throat.
your eyes watched the television, never leaving them as you hummed a small, "hm?"
price thought for a moment.
your mother was out for the weekend. he could have you now...
no.
"uh, nothin'." he concluded, and you paid no mind. his right hand crept down to your exposed thighs that were thrown over his lap. he tried to ignore the intense throbbing and want that thrummed under his jean zipper.
he slowly tickled his fingers along the span of your thigh, down your calf and to your frilly-socked foot as you cutely wiggled your toes. his index traced along the delicate laced-ruffles--then down to rub the inside of your foot.
after a bit, his hand made its way back up to the side of your thigh again, running his fingers along the soft skin.
he looked over at you again.
god, how were you so beautiful?
his whole being ached with want.
he loved you so much it hurt his heart.
"that a new bow?" he asked, pinching the pink knot at the base of your messy pony tail.
you nodded, excitedly. "mm hm! do u like it?"
you always wanted his approval, and he knew that.
"i love it, sweetheart, 's beautiful jus' like you." he smiled, watching your face darken with a red blush. you giggled shyly.
"thank you, daddy." you replied quietly, still fidgeting with his hand under the blanket.
daddy.
god, were you trying to kill him?
he knows you've always had a bit of a crush on him. ever since you two met.
and he's only a little ashamed to say he immediately fell for you when you both met.
he was with the wrong girl.
he loves times like this though.
it is probably bad to say, but he loves when your mother is gone.
it reminds him of a life he could have possibly one day with you...away from it all. he has the money to start a new life with you, just not the opportunity yet.
he loves when you walk into the kitchen, stuffie pressed against your chest, hair messy, lips n eyes puffy with sleep; his t-shirt on and your cute little pink panties.
he loves when your sleepy. you cuddle up closer to him.
just this morning you stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing at your tired eyes.
price was already dressed for the day--up since 6 am.
"good morning, sweet girl." his voice made your heart flutter.
you whined, padding to where he leaned back on the kitchen counter, wrapping your arms around his torso immediately. he picked you up with ease, kissing your face as you giggled.
he sat down on the couch as you straddled him tiredly, head pressed against his beefy chest.
"you're my favorite girl, y'know that?" he whispered, petting your hair.
Summary: Price’s relationship with you, his wife’s daughter from another partner, isn’t the greatest, but he’s willing to try, and after a rough day at school, it seems he’s got a chance.
Word Count: ~1.7k
Warnings: mentions of cheating, infidelity, bad best friend, school sucks, anxiety, panic attack, mentions of fist fighting bears?? THIS IS FULLY PLATONIC
A/N: I wish I had a price to be my father figure😔
Requests are open!
Captain John Price had settled down during his mid-40s, finding a pretty missus his age, courting her for a few years, and marrying her.
It was soon into their relationship, that he realized he couldn’t keep a woman and the military in his life at the same time. He had to make a choice, so he finally retired, a stern word from Simon about “appreciating good things that come to him” putting the final nail in the coffin of the entire ordeal.
But after the marriage, came a teenager. A teenage girl, to be exact.
The child of an old boyfriend of hers, his stepdaughter now, he knew. He hadn’t known what to think at first.
He wasn’t a jealous man, he didn’t see you as a symbol of your mother’s past relationships or an accident or mistake, no, he just wasn’t sure how to handle teenagers. They were loud, brash, and not to mention emotional. Always thought they knew the best for themselves, when in reality, they were hardly even bordering on self-aware most of the time.
Being in the military at a relatively high rank in a specialized position meant he didn’t have to deal with many teenagers, all of whom were just recruits who’d just arrived and probably realized how much of a mistake they’d made by enrolling. But it didn’t mean he liked them.
There were the rare few who were respectful, but in general, all the emotions, and for girls, the hormones and drama, he didn’t really know how to handle it. Gaz was better with all the gossip than he was by far.
He’d tried to reach out, to make an effort to include you in his daily activities and habits. He knew your father was a total douche who didn’t care much about you, and he wanted to make up for it, even if it wasn’t his fault, or really his problem, either. He made breakfasts for you, invited you to watch shows with him, and tried to show you how to fix up a flat tire or how to work with wood in the garage, but you always seemed mildly disinterested, just trying to pay attention to not be rude.
You were in almost the same boat as him. You’d never seen a man who looked like the stereotypical dad, a little beer belly, muscles hidden by fat, and a scruffy beard with crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Your real dad was nothing like him, looks wise or personality-wise.
He was the provider type, you could tell. And you weren’t too sure how to handle it, considering you didn’t want to come off as needy.
You called him ‘John’, and tried to pay attention to him, if not just giving little awkward smiles, but at the end of the day, he was just that-guy-your-mom-married. She loved him, she was happy, and if she was happy then you would be happy for her.
It all changed one evening when he was sitting on the couch, sipping on a cuppa tea, with a dash of cream just how he liked it, watching a show about surviving in the wilderness for weeks on end with no outside help when you arrived home from school.
You’d gotten home a few minutes later than usual. He’d noticed.
Your eyes were red around the rims, and a bit puffy as well. You sniffled, hands shaking a little bit around the strap where you held your backpack. A smudge of what he assumed to be mascara was under your eyes, as if you’d wiped away a lot of it. You were visibly upset and unsteady, breaths a bit shaky as you let your backpack drop to the floor with a thud, going to walk to your room, right past him.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
He asked, sitting up, and putting his cup down as his brows pulled together in a worried, confused expression. Sure, you two weren’t the closest, but he wasn’t going to let you go to your room and comfort yourself. You needed a father figure at the very least, and he wouldn’t let you go without one.
You stopped, glancing at him, swallowing almost audibly as you opened your mouth, then closed it, a sniffle coming out as you just began crying.
“Come here,”
He spoke, standing up with an abruptness you didn’t even know he’d had in his sore joints and bones. You sniffled again, little gasps coming from your throat between silent sobs. He walked over, gently letting his arms just hover beside your body for a moment, until letting them close around you in a warm embrace once he was sure you were fine with it.
You stiffened up at first, pausing a moment to just breathe before the sobs began again and you melted into him.
“I—my, my boyfriend, he—“
You hiccuped, and he made a gentle hushing sound like one would do to subdue a baby, letting his hand rub soothing circles against your back. He slowly moved you over to the couch, sitting down first, and patting the spot next to him in invitation.
You hesitated, before sighing and plopping down. He hardly had to do anything until you were leaning against him, arms curling around your own torso.
“What happened?”
He finally asked, voice smoothed over with a practiced calm as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close until you moved to lean your head against his chest on your own accord.
“My boyfriend cheated on me.”
You almost whispered, sounding scared to say it, as if scared to confirm it as true. And as you said it, a few fresh tears began flowing, which he quickly wiped away with the calloused pad of his thumb.
“‘M sorry, hon. Some people in life just aren’t good, can’t blame yourself for it.”
He’d hardly ever heard of your boyfriend, only the sparing little things your mom would pull out of you. He’d seen him pick you up before in an old beat-up van, and seen him knock on the door before and ask where you were. You had been texting him constantly, calling him too. But Price hadn’t heard much of the lad other than what he managed to overhear and see.
“A-and, my best friend knew, and she didn’t tell me, ‘cause she said she didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
That made him angry more than anything.
Cheating was a betrayal of trust in your partner that you’d shared almost everything with, but your best friend was objectively worse. You’d shared everything with a best friend, the good, the bad, the ugly, and they weren’t as easy to cut off as a partner. He could see how devastated you were and held you closer.
“That’s awful.”
He murmured, trying to soothe you as he saw your breathing pick up again, bordering on panicking. He’d been there before, and seen his men get to that point.
It wasn’t pleasant.
“I’m gonna have to see them every day, and she’s my partner for my science project—and I’m already behind on my science—and I have an entire essay that I haven’t even started on and I still need to research for it—and, and—“
Your sentences trailed off into incoherent mumbles as you couldn’t help but almost cry from the pure anxiety you were experiencing. John remembered how much he’d hated school when he’d been a kid, which was why he’d joined the military as soon as he was eligible. The school system was fucked, and it wasn’t helping that you had a shitload of responsibility placed on you so young.
“Hey, listen here. I’m gonna email your counselor, or whoever I have to, and you’re taking the day off tomorrow. We can work on your essay and projects together and finish ‘em, but for now, let’s just relax and leave all that for later, alright?”
He kept his sentences simple and short, taking proper care to enunciate each word clearly in his British accent, watching as you slowly began breathing deeper, nodding as if to convince yourself that what he was saying was true.
He pulled you just a bit closer into his chest, letting your entire body weight lean on him, one hand sneaking up to lightly run his fingers through your hair, which greatly resembled your mother’s. He grabbed the remote, and hit the play button for his survival show, watching, but more focusing on you.
He saw how you zoned out quickly, that glimmer of worry remaining, so he gave you a little nudge, jerking his chin to the TV.
“You think I could survive all that?”
You refocused, taking a good long look at the man surviving alone in the Alaskan Wilderness, squinting your eyes to see (he made a mental note to ask your mom about getting your eyes checked later), before replying.
“Yeah, probably.”
You said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, before adding onto it.
“I could last longer, though.”
He raised his brows, a grin forming on his face.
“Yeah? How you planning on doin’ that?”
He didn’t bother mentioning that he was a former SAS Captain and would absolutely last longer than you in the wilderness. He’d rather you at least talk to him and get into a better mood, even if by making fun of him.
“I’d steal all your stuff, then make you fist fight a bear.”
He let out a low chuckle at that. It was an answer incredibly reminiscent of something Soap would say, or Nik, on second thought.
“I think I’d win.”
You raised a brow at him, a look of clear doubt on your face, before you both burst into little fits of giggles. When you finally managed to refocus on the show, he grabbed a blanket from the side of the couch, pulling it over both of you before taking a sip from his cup.
You both slowly got comfortable, eyelids growing heavy as you yawned quietly. Before falling asleep, you managed to murmur one last thing.
“Thanks, John.”
And maybe it wasn’t the ‘Dad’ he’d been hoping for, but that would come with time, or maybe not at all, and he found that he didn’t care as much as he initially thought he would. He’d finally realized that not all men who were fathers were called ‘Dad’, and that was just fine with him, as long as you were safe and comfortable.
gulp idk if you write noncon but could we get another one with step dad price?? (totally get if you don't write noncon btw<3 just step dad price is okay then)
Helllllyeeaaahhahhh. Two other people asked for step dad price so.... 😃
Pt1
You had been excellently good, hadn't gone out for two whole weekends in a row after... the lesson you had learnt.
Price was proud. Really much so. Though when your mother went to a short term work trip on the other side of the country, you thought you should let loose, well yeah. You were an adult, but that didn't stop your mother from scolding you for being out late.
So the obviously response is to go out with your friends, just some random shitty bar.
By the time you had stumbled back home you were absolutely shitfaced, of course Price was sitting on that damn couch. And you immediately straightened up.
With only a couple steps he was already almost against you. "G'd evnin." You said, trying to seem sober.
Terribly failing in the process.
"Do you remember what I told you last time?" He asked, his breath against your ear.
Of course you did. You had thought of that the whole time at the bar. But there was no way in hell he'd stoop so low and do something to you when you're drunk, right.
Right?
Right...?
You were soon proved to be wrong when you were shoved onto the couch. "Daddy's gonna teach you a proper lesson... since the first time obviously didn't work."
You were almost certainly sure that your pants were dripping wet already. And that was exactly the case. Or so you guessed when you heard him grumble.
"Such a damn whore, bet you were planning to get fucked." He hummed as he pushed your panties fully down.
You weakly whimpered in response.
Soon. He took off his belt. His cock already leaking pre, without further prep he pushed it into your awaiting hole. His hand tightly on his hips. Definitely gonna leave bruises.
The pain mingled in the, very very thick concentration of alcohol in your blood. And soon enough you passed out.
By the time you woke up you were covered in prices semen, and maybe even saliva. Meanwhile he was calmly reading some newspaper.
"Need some medicine for the headache?" He hummed. Almost worriedly. Like he hadn't fucked you boneless.
