#(john

You're slumped over your bed, feeling the familiar feeling of a dick sliding through your wet folds, but the thing is you're fully dressed and home alone, the team left hours ago to the pub.

Your back arched, clit throbbing and slick pooling in your panties. The person could be any one of your team mates, they're all horny mutts who can't keep it in their pants.

A moan slips from your mouth, feeling a fat tip slip in and out, nothing more nothing less.... clearly ghost.

That's until you felt another head slip in beside it, your back arched even deeper, knees digging into your bed. Soap. They're both taking turns sticking just the head in, it's driving you crazy.

A few minutes of this and you feel the familiar buzz of a vibrator press against your clit, you gasped, grabbing your phone to text the team but before you can even hit send your body locks up into a strong orgasm, legs quivering violently and your jeans getting soaked.

now, since price took an early retirement few years ago, he had been eating well thanks to you. at first he availed his free time to fix as much things as he could in your house, renovating your yard and building your pool like he promised you when he was still working. but now that all of this was done, he became a professional in couch rotting.

he absolutely hated it, even as you assured him over and over that he was perfectly fine, and that he needed it, he still felt useless.

to not make it any better, john noticed that he was slowly loosing his muscles and a pouch of fat was starting to be noticeable in his lower abdomen. he was slower than before, wincing when getting up from the couch and he now necessarily needed his glasses to read.

however, he couldn’t help but love your delighted expression as you came home, happy to see him healthy and alive, clearly traumatised from all the years you spent waiting for him to come back from deployment. you'd hug him tightly and sigh contently at the feeling of his heartbeat against your temple.

Something I drew listening to part 58,

I'm always listening to them with delay, wanted to fall behind and then listen to a couple parts at once but I was curious so it didn't work :j

(btw I opened commissions :D so message me if you want me to draw sth for you!)

In case you missed it- my artwork for @promstuck2025! the homestucks are arriving at the venue 🌙

Husband!John Price where its always "well, my missus'..." When the 141 is around, or pretty much anyone for the most part. Doesn't matter what it is, his missus does it better than other of the other mens.

Soap's sitting at the crews usual lunch spot with the crew, complaining about the slop of a lunch he was packed this morning. Two slices of bread, a slab of ham, and and orange. His lady was upset with him, something about him keeping the toilet seat up one too many times. Silence came from price as he chewed his warm meal, Gaz gave him a soft sorry, Simon just groaned. "Aw, mate, my missus 'd never." He simply compared, with a chuckle, taking another spoonful of the warm pot roast you had made just for him, mashed potatoes and asparagus on the side, homemade lemon poppy seed muffin waiting for him to finish him main course, sweet little note read once or twice already. Leaning back with that idiotic smirk on his face, knowing he won a nonexistent battle inside of his head. Reaching for a cloth napkin, a dark green.

"Even got my own napkin." Throwing it on the table after wiping his mouth, all Soap could do was stare at the stupid hand sewn "J.P" Initials on the right corner of the square fabric. Embroidered red heart followed right behind. Soaps sandwich already has his fingers deeply imprinted onto both sides of the bread. Fucking bragging piece of shit.