#john cod

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.

cw: oral (c) receiving, multiple men, penetration First part

The next time John fucks you in his office, you aren’t surprised when a pair of rough calloused hands that don’t below to John grab onto your tits. Hard and rough as they run over the delicate skin of your chest, leaving goosebumps as they travel.

The perky mounds of your nipples stand hard and pebbled as you puff out your chest, in hopes to receive the attention they so desperately want and need from the rugged Scotsman towering over you.

The flick of his fingers against your nipple has your body jolting in surprise, his fingers rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers pinching and tugging before letting go, to replace the roughness of his fingers with the warmth of his mouth, caressing the hardened peaks of your nipples with his tongue. Lapping around them in slow circles making sure to slobber all over them as he goes. 

The suck and flick of his tongue has you squirming underneath him, all whilst John continues to drill into your sopping cunt stretching your tight little hole out around his thick throbbing cock. With hands firmly placed on your hips he pulls you down onto his cock, balls slapping against your ass as he tugs you down over and over and over again to meet his brutal thrusts. His weeping tip kissing the entrance of your cervix with each pump of his hips.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch someone moving to stand next to you, before they’re reaching out to tug your face to the side. Dragging your eyes away from the scene in front of you to be met with the throbbing tip of another teammate, the salty taste of pre cum coats your lips as his hand grasps the back of your head, forcing his cock past the barrier of your lips straight into your awaiting mouth.

The stretch of your mouth around his size has your jaw aching as he forces himself down your throat, his tip kissing the back of your throat, making your choke around him. His piercing gaze holds your from behind his ski mask as you sputter and gag around him as he pulls your head up and down his length, from base to tip fucking your face with his cock as drool spills from the sides of your mouth dribbling down onto your chin. 

It's not until he pulls out that you’re able to take a full breath of air, rushing to fill your lungs as you struggle to catch your breath, but it’s short lived when your head is jerked to the other side and the dripping tip of the Scotsman is now bullying its way into your mouth. He’s not as long as the previous guy but he’s just as thick so even with your jaw slacked it’s still a stretch to fit him in there. Your tongue runs along the underneath of his heavy cock, thick and hard against your tongue as you run over every vein.

He pushes you down all the way to the hilt, shoving his cock down your throat and holding you there until you gag around him before pulling you off and turning you towards the waiting cock on the other side in one swift motion. Taking it in turns to stuff your mouth.

With John penetrating your tight cunt and your mouth being shared between two fat cocks you’re surprised you haven’t passed out. Your nerves are on the edge of overstimulation as you hurdle towards your approaching orgasm. But it’s the sudden warm wet mouth latching onto your clit that has your cunt clamping around John’s cock. You’re just able to see the short clipped hair of Gaz before your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. 

His tongue circles your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves before sucking it into his mouth. If your body wasn’t close to exploding earlier then it most definitely is now. Your legs shake and your body jerks as you cum around John’s cock, gushing around him as you continue to shake and twitch.

John soon follows, spurting thick ropes of cum deep inside of you making sure to keep himself plugged inside so nothing seeps out. Hot sticky cum soon coats your face as one finishes the other finishing inside your mouth, cumming deep down your throat making you swallow the lot. Gaz finishes last as he tugs desperately at his cock, the sight of you fucked senseless and covered in cum has him shooting all over your tits, covering them in sticky ropes of his cum.

It's Price. Not because of anything that he does but because of what he doesn't do. He just stands there watching every move you make with crossed arms as he smokes a cigar by the only open window in the kitchen. Needless to say, it's irritating. You always tell him that if he is gonna be in the kitchen, the lest he could do is help. But he never dose, he just stands there or sits down at the dining room table like some sort of king and just watches.

Not only does it irritate you, but it's the way that he looks at you that is the real menace of the whole situation. Staring at you like you are a better meal than the one you're preparing. He keeps raking his eyes over you in a way that makes you squirm because you know exactly what he's looking at. It makes you feel like some sort of meek housewife whose only purpose in life is to serve her husband. Which at times doesn't seem like such a bad idea, until it's like this.

The way he just watches you makes a heat bloom in your core, as another one blooms in your cheeks. It makes you squirm as you stir the sizzling vegetables in the cast iron, thighs pressing together underneath the (his) shirt you were wearing. He knows what he's doing too, wearing such a cocky smirk on his lips that makes you not able to decide if you want to smack him or kiss him. But he never acts on the way he's making you feel. Oh no, he waits until after the two of you are done eating.

He knows you won't fight it when he pulls you into his lap once you finish cleaning the table off. The bastard knows how worked up he made you from all his staring. He'll mumble something about desert, and if you actually made one, he'll shake his head

"Not the desert. I'm wanting, sweetheart." He'll reply, and then next thing you know he's got, you splayed out on the kitchen table with his head absolutely buried in your thighs. If it weren't for the fact you just fed him a full meal, you would have thought he was starving with the way he was devouring you, moaning and groaning like he was the one on the receiving end. Mumbling praises about both you and your cooking skills, no matter how good or bad they are. And he won't stop until your conculsing under him while stars dance across your vision. Then you hear the fumbling of a belt buckle and a scrape of a chair across the floor

"Now that I'm full, let's have some fun yea?"

synopsis - you go to a corn maze and get fucked by john

warnings - unprotected sex, pet names, ooc!john price

notes - trying to get back into the swing of things. who knows if this will last.

i need someone to match my freak. i need JOHN PRICE to match my freak guys.

like, i could definitely go for a quickie with him in a corn maze.

just think. its early in the season of fall- ordinarily too early for the pinterest couples and groups of friends to be swarming the corn maze and pumpkin patch. you sweet talked john into going and getting the first pick of the patch early on in the season because you knew you both may get called back to work.

you were both wearing jeans and boots- the wind had a slight nip to it now- and miraculously convinced your boyfriend to wear the deep red Henley that clung to his muscles so well. in return, he had picked out a blaringly bright orange sweater so you could ‘fit in with the pumpkins’ or some other bullshit that brought a smile to his face. 

john had let you lead him around the peacefully unpopulated grounds- purchasing apple cider and other odds and ends you saw fit. he knew that you just wanted one day to feel like a normal, regular, sane couple that didn’t have their hands soaked in blood every other day- literally or figuratively. and in all honesty, he didn’t mind letting you happily pull him along because the smile on your face was worth diamonds.

eventually, after you picked over all the shops and food stands, you stopped in front of the corn maze. “final stop, john. then you can take me home,” you mused, snuggling into his inhumanly warm side. 

your boyfriend hummed beside you. “finally,” he grumbled jokingly. The quiet chuckle he earned from his comment made his heart swell a little fuller. “alright, love. lead the way.”

Five minutes later, you had no clue where to go. Ironic, right? You cursed yourself- how could you not know how to escape some dumb corn maze?

Just as your feet started to ache, you lead the both of you into a corn with a couple hay bales in the corner. John followed you and chortled as you sat down on the bale. You could barely feel the pointy straw poking your ass. 

“Stupid maze,” you grumbled.

John’s eyes twinkled. “Let me eat you out, love.”

The casualness of his tone made your mouth open and close once. Twice. “John. My love. My heart. We’re in a corn maze right now.”

One step and he crouched doen to your eye level. The devilish smile that crinkled his eyes was softening your resolve and he knew it. “C’mon, love,” he cooed, brushing a lock of your frizzy hair from your eyes. “Just let me make you feel good, yeah?” 

Stupid man and stupid sexy voice, you thought spitefully, as John’s hands clasped around your waist. He slid his hands over the soft fabric covering your waist. As he leaned closer and pressed his lips to yours in an entoxicatingly slow kiss, he slid his large hands down to the meat of your thighs.

He drank in your moans, letting your hands latch onto the back of his neck. John parted your thighs with his hand. After breaking the kiss, he sank to his knees and tugged you forward before busying himself with undoing your belt buckle.

Waves of goosebumps picked at your skin. By the cold and by John’s skillful hands, tugging your pants and underwear sown far enough to feast his eyes (and eventually mouth) on your already soaked cunt.

Are you still with me here? Because I know John would eat you so good that your inner thighs would be bright red from the prickliness of his facial hair. But honestly, you didn’t care too much. Not after John forcing not one but two orgasms out of you.

Then he finally decided to lift you up and sit him on his cock. It was a miracle you were still concious enough to give him sass, saying “at least take me on a date first, John.” He had responded with a sharp thrust into your gushing pussy.

“You come on my tongue twice, and you’re the one giving me ?” John chides you, a roughness in his voice that made your pussy tighten. “Might want to watch your mouth, love.”

You stayed silent, letting him get used to the feel of you. Your body shivered and you wrapped your arms around John’s neck, voice breaking as you pleaded for him to ruin you: right here in a fucking corn maze.

“Please, John,” you moaned. He grabbed a handful of your ass and squeezed. your positioning was awkward but you knew John would take care of you. “I need it.”

Luckily for you, John didn’t feel like wasting any more time. He positioned his hands to be gripping your waist and started moving. Agonizingly slow, he lifted you up and down, John complied. Your breathless mewls were music to John’s ears as he slowly sped up his pace, fucking up into your core.

It didn’t take long for you to feel that white-hot ball of heat tensing up in your gut. This time, though, you were worried you’d cum too fast- too overstimulated from your previous orgasms.

“Fuuuck,” John groaned into your ear. “Squeezin’ me just right, love.”

John’s words sent a chill down your spine. You bit down on your hand until it bled. John’s speed only increased.

“I feel you clenchin’ around my cock, love,” John told you. The rasp in his voice only sent you closer to your high. “Takin’ me just right. Your pussy’s perfect, love. Like you’re made for me,” he rambled, fucking you so roughly you knew you’d have bruises.

You grip at his shirt helplessly as John repeatedly hits that spot inside of you that feels like heaven. “Christ, John,” you whimper out.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you? Like it when I tell you what a good girl y’are?”

Tears stream down your face and the coil in your gut is so hot, so alive, so ready. “I’m gonna- John- I’m… gonna-“

“Cum for me, darlin’,” John tells you, voice choked. “Cum on my cock.”

And Jesus Christ you do. You barely have time to slap a hand over your mouth before you cum. Salty tears drip down your face while you feel your thighs go lax as the coil snaps.

John’s warm cum spills into you as he pulls you down one final time and muffles his own groaning by shoving his face into your stupidly orange sweater.

It takes a full minute and a half for you to stop twitching in John’s arms. And even so, you can feel your breathing shudder ever so slightly.

“John?”

You feel rather than hear John’s rumble of a reply. Your hand cards through his hair and you attempt to calm your breathing.

“Are you ready?”

Another grumble.

Mdni

I know this has been said before but I need John to fuck me so good that I cry

He likes to fuck like this because it gives him a sense of control he has missed since he stopped working in the field and moved to a cushier job behind a desk and closer to retirement. He’s still fit, god is he fit, because working out is the only way to keep his mind occupied, at least until he’s at home with you.