I am BEGGING you for more unhappily-married!Price and his nanny. I'M BEGGING
significantly less porn in this one. very un-fern-like, i know, but bear with me here.
(still 18+ tho, fem!reader, nanny!reader, infidelity obviously, price is a slut but it’s ok)
—•—
neither john or his wife were home yet.
it was just you and the two kids, who were in the living room, sprawled across the couch with the television blaring. you couldn’t hear them, but every now and then, after poking your head through the door, you found their eyes glued to the silly cartoon they were watching.
you were in the kitchen making the kids their dinner. and dinner for you, and both mr. and mrs. price as well. you didn’t have to cook for them. it wasn’t actually in your job contract. but you felt it was the least you could do to help them out once they’d both returned home from work.
and when you heard the jingle of a heavy set of keys, and the clacking of metal sliding into the locking mechanism of the front door, butterflies started fluttering around in your stomach.
“daddy!” is what you heard being shouted from the living room, followed by the surprisingly heavy pitter-patter of little feet dashing across the room.
you kept your eyes glued to the chopping board, focusing on the way you were cutting the vegetables below you, as you listened to john greet his children.
he was such an incredible dad. so loving, and so caring, and so gentle. the exact kind of man you would have wanted to raise children. the exact kind of man who was made to become a father. you subtly wished you could’ve seen what he was like when the kids were newborn.
as you cut the vegetables, you listened to the kids sprint back, and presumably dive back onto, the couch, giggling away to themselves. you then listened to hard-soled trek towards the kitchen. the butterflies creating havoc in your stomach made you forget about your frustration that john kept wearing his shoes inside.
you didn’t look up even when you sensed him in the doorway. you waited, with your heart in your throat, until he greeted you. and, of course, like the gentleman he was, he did.
“good evening,” john said, followed by your name.
you looked up at him, as if you had only just realised he was there, and smiled warmly at him. you paused the chopping of the vegetables and leaned lightly against the kitchen island.
“good evening, john. how was work?” you greeted, then asked, cocking your head lightly to the side.
you watched him, and god he looked good. he was in a suit today, for some reason or another, and his suit jacket was laying over his forearm, revealing him in a fitted white dress shirt. it clung to every curve of his muscle, the softness of his chest and tummy. his trousers framed his thighs perfectly, and his bulge—
you quickly averted your eyes, and hoped he didn’t notice. if he did, he didn’t say anything, or gave anything away. he simply returned your smile.
“it was good, thank you. how about you, hm? those ones behave themselves?” he followed up with a question, nodding backwards and towards the living room.
he also took a step into the kitchen, moving away from the doorway and presumably out of earshot, too.
“my day was great, actually. the kids and i went out to the park, and spent most of the day there, actually. now it’s just been tv time until i finish dinner,” you replied earnestly, looking back down at the semi-cut vegetables, and then back up at john.
there was already a warm and savoury smell in the air, courtesy of what was already simmering on the stove and roasting in the oven behind you. john noticed the smell, clearly, as he took a deep breath as he approached the kitchen island from where you were working, standing opposite you.
“smells amazing,” he complimented.
“and there’s enough for you!” you somewhat laughed. usually, the kids loved your cooking so much, that there wasn’t always a lot left.
john’s smile widened, and he placed his suit jacket to the side, leaning against the kitchen counter, gripping the sides with strong fingers—
fingers that, last night, had scissored your warm pussy open as you kneeled on his bed with your face in his pillows. fingers that had you creaming around them in record time, coating his hand and forearm. fingers that had spelled his name on your swollen clit as fucked you from behind—
“you’re too kind,” john said genuinely as you began to chop at the vegetables again. he watched you for a moment, with deep and dark eyes that made your fingers shake, before he continued. “is my wife home?”
you shook your head but didn’t say anything. you didn’t look up either. the topic of mrs. price always scared you.
she was only ever mrs. price to you. never her first name, never just her last name. with the mrs., or miss or ma’am. professional only.
there were several reasons why she frightened you, and not all of them stemmed from the fact that you were fucking her husband and calling him daddy in the bed they shared. sure, that was a part of it, but not the primary.
the way she spoke was cold and icy, frigid to both you and john on the best of occasions. she wasn’t a completely awful mother, either, but her parenting did not match that of her husbands in the slightest. she was always in a rush, her affection was brief, and if you bet money on it, you’d have full pockets to say that she didn’t even know her kids favourite food at the moment.
those reasons made you feel a whole less guilty about sleeping with her husband in her bed. about playing pretend wife while she was at work.
but it still gnawed at your soul, the fact you were actively involved with a married man, whose children you cared for, and whose wife would probably gut you if she found out.
so even though the fact she wasn’t home was supposed to put you at ease, it had your hackles up. scared, no. anxious, sure. your worst fear is having her walk in and see whatever it was john and you were doing at any particular time. no matter how innocent, it forced your head on a swivel.
john nodded slowly at your answer, as if thinking of something else in his head. he probably was, considering he pushed himself away from the kitchen island and rounded it, coming up beside you.
you didn’t look up, but you could feel his warmth against your side. you could smell him. it made your cunt pulse in time with the beat of your heart.
“she’s not home…” price uttered lowly, and then proceeded to drag a hand softly up the bare expanse of your arm. from wrist to shoulder, until his fingers were no longer skimming over skin, but over your cotton tee. “what time does she usually get home?”
his hand travelled back down towards your wrist, and you willed your body not to betray you and sprout goose-bumps across your skin.
“sometime after seven,” you answered quietly, still chopping. slowly.
“oh yeah?” john shifted closer to you, until his chest was pressing up against your upper arm. his hand remained on your hand, finger tracing over your knuckles. “and what’s the time now?”
his question forced you to look over at the clock. he took advantage of the new position and quickly leaned in, pressing his lips to the side of your neck, humming to himself.
“half-five,” you whispered, closing your eyes and— for safety reasons, of course, not because you were distracted— placed the knife down.
john dragged his nose along the column of your neck, inhaling. his other hand swooped around your body to rest on your opposite him, pulling your lower body against him.
at your pulse point, he paused and opened his mouth, sucking a kiss to the skin and groaning quietly to himself. you gripped the kitchen counter as john’s beard scratched at the soft skin of your neck as his teeth grazed you, tongue hot and wet against the thrumming of your blood.
“john…” you whispered.
he was subtly grinding against you now. the bulge in his black trousers pushed somewhere near the plushness of your hip, moving forward and back. slightly, slowly. barely noticeable. he did so as he kept his mouth suctioned to your neck, his eyes closed.
the hand on your hip fidgeted with the waistband of your joggers, rubbing at the ridged fabric that covered the drawstring. he managed, after a moment, to slip his fingers under your shirt and grip at the bare skin of your waist.
john’s mouth finally trailed upwards, and he pressed warm kisses along your neck. when he reached the curve of your jaw, he placed another kiss, before nosing at your earlobe, pulling your body impossibly tighter against him.
“i’d stuff your pretty pussy right here if you let me,” he whispered darkly, and you felt your clit pulse. he pressed a kiss to the outer part of your cheek, parallel to your ear. “fuck a load in t’you and have you dripping all over my kitchen floor.”
“john,” you hissed, finally letting go of the counter and squeezing a hand between your bodies. your fingers came to rest on his warm, broad chest. “we can’t… not here.”
you could hear the tv going, loud and rackety. you could hear the kids giggling every so often too. but no pitter-patter of their feet barrelling towards the kitchen. thankfully.
john grumbled against your cheek, and you tried your best not to let the sound make you drop to your knees and paw at the bulge that was currently nudging your hip. at least he had stopped humping you now.
“need you so fucking bad, sweetheart,” he told you in a hoarse whisper. “been thinking about you all day. such a pretty thing, y’know. such a pretty girl. can’t get you out of my head.”
you wanted to berate him. growl at him for speaking in such a way. but truthfully, his words were setting your soul on fire and, most importantly, setting your nerves alight. your pussy, hot and warm within the confines of your underwear, pulsed. you withstood the need to clamp your thighs together.
“john, please,” you continued to whisper, and he took his time placing kisses along your cheek, pressing your hip into his front. “the kids are right next door, and—”
he hummed deeply before he spoke. “s’alright, pretty girl. m’just gonna have to go upstairs and fuck my fist in the shower, hm?”
“john—”
“or maybe fuck the wife and pretend it’s this greedy cunt—” john’s hand suddenly slipped down the front of your joggers, cupping your heat over your underwear as he pressed his nose to your cheek. you bit your lip to hold in a whimper, your entire body wracking with an involuntary shiver. john continued, “—that i’m fucking my load into. how about that, pretty girl? hm? …no, i wouldn’t do that to you— wouldn’t waste my cum in a pussy that isn’t yours—”
you took a deep breath, and then stepped away from him. he immediately withdrew his hand from your joggers and watched you with dark eyes.
“john, stop, not with the kids home,” you said, not so much a whisper anymore. “besides, your… wife will be home soon. let me finish dinner—”
the sound of the front door opening had your heart dropping into your stomach. john took a great step backwards as the sound of high-heels clacked along the floor, and some kind of disinterested greeting from the kids made its way into earshot.
you quickly picked up the knife and resumed the chopping of the vegetables, whilst john adjusted the bulge in his suit trousers. mrs. price walked in not long after, her eyes looking you up and down.
“oh, you’re cooking.”
you didn’t say anything, just offered her an awkward smile. she then turned to look at john with barely a change in her unsatisfied expression.
“john,” she greeted. “you’re home early.”
he greeted his wife too, then followed up with, “so are you.”
you looked between them. you could cut the tension with a knife. and it wasn’t the good kind of tension, either. a whole lot of animosity, and you weren’t really sure where it came from. either way, you were luckily finished cutting your vegetables, and moved on to the opposite side of the kitchen to finish up dinner.
mrs. price exited the kitchen not long after. you listened to her leave, your back to the room, as you leaned over the stovetop and the bubbling concoction in a large saucepan. it smelled heavenly, to be fair.
you appreciated the silence of the kitchen, until the presence of a person behind you nearly made you yelp. you knew who it was though, and the large hands slowly, gently circling around your waist also gave it away.
“i’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” john whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder.
you shook your head. “you didn’t. just… we can’t do that when the kids are here.”
john nodded, understanding. “of course, i completely understand.”
he placed a kiss to your neck, pressing his bulge into the soft curve of your arse.
⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: all sfw aside from one sentence (mdni), slight angst
wc: 798
thinking about how soon to be ex husband price always makes your tea in the morning just the way you like it.
it’s like his body is moving on autopilot and it’s not until he sets it down on your favourite coaster that he remembers you’re not here anymore. It had been a week since he'd come back from his most recent deployment to see the divorce papers had come through. he’d tucked them away in his office desk, hoping that if he could forget about them, none of this would be real.
he had promised you one more year and then he’d retire but it didn’t happen.
°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。
“You said that last time.” you can’t help but raise your voice slightly in frustration as you walk into your shared bedroom.
“I know, sweetheart, I just–” He sighs as he leans against the doorway, one hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, “You know I don’t wanna leave the boys, they’re family.”
“And I’m your wife!” you exclaim as you quickly turn your head to look at him in exasperation, “One more year turned into two, two turned to three. You’re never gonna retire!” You say bitterly as you look at him, shaking your head.
“You knew my job when we married. Don’t you dare turn this around on me.” He says coldly as he walks over to the drawers, not even looking at you as he searches for clothes to pack.
“I know, but it’s not–” you hesitated as your words caught in your throat, “We agreed that one day you would retire and maybe we’d start a family or something- anything.” you sighed as you rubbed your temple in exhaustion.
“I knew your job and I knew I’d worry myself sick every time you were deployed but I also thought that you would retire one day, but that’s not true, is it?” you said sadly as you waited for him to look back at you.
He turned back to face you and hated the sadness that was in your eyes, the tears that threatened to spill, it hurt his chest.
“You keep lying because let’s be real, the only way you see yourself leaving that job is in a body bag and I just don’t think that’s fair to me. My heart can’t take this anymore, John.” you’d said sadly as a tear fell.
He was instantly up and pulled you into his arms as he wiped your tears, “Shh no, stop that.” he whispered softly as he held you, kissing the top of your head. "You mean everything to me, love, we'll figure something out, okay?" He spent that whole night comforting you, even though he couldn’t deny your words and he hated himself for it.
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He stares at the cup of tea on the counter long gone cold now as he thinks back to that night.
He’d thought a lot on it during his most recent deployment and when he'd returned home, he hated how empty it felt. It wasn't home anymore, it was just a quiet house. He wished to see your glowing smile when he came back, the warmth of your arms wrapped around him as you peppered kisses all over his face and using your cheesy pickup lines on him to make him laugh.
Missed listening to you sing along to music as you cooked, or when you’d wash each other’s hair in the shower, though those evenings often led to you crying out his name as you lay spread out underneath him in missionary. Waking up without you beside him was unbearable and spending the rest of the day in a quiet house was even worse, especially when everything reminded him of you.
He had previously felt as though he would be letting the guys down if he retired, that he’d be weak for getting to enjoy the rest of his life whilst other fallen comrades of his didn’t get that chance. And in the process he'd forgotten his own happiness.
He sat down in his office that evening, reaching for the divorce papers, setting them down on his desk, pen in hand. As the pen hovered above the pages, he glanced at his phone, the lock screen displaying a picture of the two of you from a date night in the early stages of your relationship.
He hesitates, exhaling a shaky breath.
He reaches for his phone, waiting for the call to go through, “Hey Laswell, it’s John.” He takes a deep breath as he looks at the papers, “This next mission– It’ll be my last and then I’m officially done. I’m retiring.” He says gladly as he opens one of the drawers and reaches for his wedding band, slipping it back on his finger with a content smile.
I'm a simon girlie in my heart, but i know on paper i'm definitely a price kinda girl
content warnings: john price x reader, reader is a high-paid escort, sex work, smut, nude photos, mentions of various kinks and fetishes
john and laswell have long since retired from the action-packed military lifestyle they were used to. and it's years before they finally meet for a catch-up and when they finally do, they get onto the topic of stress and how laswell has seem to adapted to the laid back civilian life quite easily
"d'ya not get bored? pent up? miss the thrill of the battlefield?" john asks, nursing his pint and occasionally swilling the amber liquid around the empty space of the glass
laswell just smirks, taking a sip of her whiskey before looking back at john. "let's just say i've recently inherited a business which keeps me busy. come by sometime, i've got a way for you to releive all that pent-up energy."
she winks before sliding a business card across the table. john picks it up, the immediate side decorated with a simple "kates." laminated on the front. when he flips it over, he finds a london address in the same font on the other side. he shoots her a confused look before pocketing the card and speaking no more on the subject
a few weeks later and john finds himself in mayfair, outside a building he imagines cost a fortune in rent whilst he stares at the card to make sure he's at the right place. there's no sign on the front, no way to indicate this place is a business as it blends right in with the monotonous row of houses that run down the long street
he walks in and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds kate stood at the front desk of the apparent reception, speaking to the receptionist in a quiet tone. the furniture and indoor architecture of the building is divine, luxurious. far too fancy for his dirty, blood-stained hands
kate turns and a fond smile makes it's way onto her face as she walks to greet him in a way that suggests she knew he would be coming. she leads him into her office, sitting him down and hand him a clipboard with a form as thick as two of his fingers. she doesn't say anything other than, "fill that out and we'll talk afterwards." before smiling warmly and leaving him alone
john huffs, not feeling very relaxed as he quickly flicks through the thick stack of papers in his lap. he gets to work, filling it out as quickly as possible. the questions start of simple, age, occupation, marital status and he thinks nothing of this whole situation. soon, the questions take a bit of a turn as the next page is full of in-depth questions about his sexual health and history
his gut tells him to stop here, that nothing orthodox would be asking invasive questions like this and yet he finds himself continuing to fill out the form. the questions slowly become more specific, more detailed. john feels his cheeks heating up at some of them, shifting awkwardly in his chair
"please select any preferred dominant titles;
daddy? check.
sir? check.
other? please specify below:
captain."
he clears his throat as he ticks off the boxes, his eyes scanning over the paper for the next question;
"what are your preferred kinks/fetishes? tick any that apply below
pussy-eating? check.
squirting? check.
overstimulation? check.
anal play? check.
spanking? check."
he feels like a pervert as he ticks off box after box. he soon gets an idea of what kind of place this is. he reaches down to adjust his cock in his jeans when he feels it begin to chub up uncomfortably against the tight denim. kate comes back in soon after john finished up the huge pile of forms, some full of questions, others legal documents. liability forms, discretionary forms and such
kate takes it and hands it off to her secretary, giving her a kind smile and whispering something to her before she leaves the room. laswell hands john a glass of aged scotch before taking a seat opposite him
"I'm sure you've figured out what kind of place I run, john. and I'm sure you understand why I like to keep this place under wraps. my girls respect their privacy and I respect my girls." kate says, taking a sip of her own drink at the end of the sentence. john nods to show his understanding before she continues speaking
"If you aren't interested, that's fine but I expect you to keep what you know to yourself. you can keep a secret, correct, john?" kate questions with a small hum, looking john directly in the eyes. john doesn't get the chance to respond before kate's secretary waltzes back into her office, a much smaller file in her hands this time
"I ran the answers through the database and paired mr. price with (y/n) based on the results." she says, leaving the file on the desk and exiting without a word
kate smiles, sliding the file across the desk towards john. "lucky man. (y/n) is my favourite. she'll treat you well." kate hums, tipping her glass forward as signal for john to pick up the file. he does so reluctantly, opening it up to be greeted with a pile of polaroids falling into his lap
his erection only worsens and he has to force himself to hold back a groan when he picks the picture up and looks at the first one. his eyes greeted with just the sweetest thing he's ever seen, dolled up in pretty lingerie, the same colour he specified, and kneeling on the floor below the camera. a coy look on your face and a submissive look in your eyes
the next one shows you tied up to a bed and blindfolded, bra off and panties still on but a small wire peeking out from under the skimpy fabric. whatever it is, its causing the blissed out look painted on your face and curled toes against the fabric of your stockings
a quiet "fuck me" leaves john’s throat in his usual guttural tone when he flicks to the next picture. you on your hands and knees on a plush looking bed, the camera level with your cleavage but all john can focus on is the dildo shoved all the way to the back of your throat, a prominent bulge sticking out
bunny: *leaves this and goes running for the hills*
a sight to behold.
lips touched lips.
price was a maniac for your affection. and how much he wanted to cram every last inch into your sweet cunt. he wondered if it would fit, at almost eight inches he knew that it was hard to stuff it all in his pants. so to get it to fit into your tight heat was going to be another challenge.
so price had you on your back, you clung to a pillow on your chest as you moaned into it. you hid your face because you were just so shy. his lips were up against your neck as he finger-fucked you.
his facial hair brushed against your skin that felt like a live wire was being run across it. he could feel your quick pulse under his lips as he continued to attempt to loosen your cunt for his heavy cock.
when he got undressed and revealed his hard on to you, your eyes went wide and you gulped. you thought you knew what "almost eight inches" looked like, until it was pressed up against your face, your nose dipped into his dark pubic hair.
it wasn't fittin'.
so he laid you back on the bed and played with your sweet sex until you were soaked. he wanted to make sure that when he sank into your pussy, it felt good.
"that's my good girl." he purred, his cock stood at full attention.
"john." you croaked.
he chuckled, "don't worry, love. let me take care of ya. my sweet girl." he kissed at the shell of your ear, "so good for me. you like when i play with you like this." he tugged on it a little with his teeth, "tell me, love. how much do you like it?"
you clung to the pillow tighter and whimpered, it felt like you were being taken apart piece by piece. your wetness clung to your inner thighs. you replied, "it feels so good, john."
he calloused thumb grazed your clit and you jolted up. but he was quickly and kept your pinned to the bed by his forearm against your chest, "down girl." he chuckled.
the sounds of your wetness paired with your sweet moans filled your bedroom. your toes curled and you hole fluttered around his digits. you didn't even need to say in words how good it all felt. your brain was currently being melted by his touches.
and it wasn't even the main event yet.
"please, john. I think i'm ready!" you whined.
your older boyfriend chuckled, "i'm not takin' ya to the hospital because i was too big for my so much smaller girl." he pulled away to look at you. to monitor your expressions as he moved his fingers faster.
you tensed up as you hid your face once more. but he wasn't letting you hide for much longer. he pulled your head away from the pillow and held you hair as he examined your face. his pace was brutal.
"john! ah! fuck!" you whined.
he kissed your flushed cheek and said, "good girl. come around my fingers. i want to make sure you're as wet as you can get, love. i want to fit like a glove in you."
you replied, "maybe if you weren't so big we wouldn't have this problem."
he grabbed you by the face and turned you to face him. his expression seemed hard for a moment as he said, "you won't be complainin' once it's buried in ya."
his dominating demeanor was enough to make you orgasm. you clutched onto the pillow and came around his thick fingers. you swore you saw stars as you hit your peak.
price was pleased with himself as he pulled his fingers out of you, they glistened in the soft light of your bedroom. curiosity got the best of him as he licked your wetness off of his fingers. the sight of it in your heightened euphoria made your cheeks burn.
"only the best." he purred he licked his top lip before he got himself between your legs. his movements were slow but precise, like he had been practicing in his mind how to get himself to fit in you. he grabbed you by the thighs and had his face between your legs.
he shuddered when he got to taste you wet pussy. the slick clung to your lips as he gave them a gentle lick. his cock was painfully hard, if he didn't get into you soon he was going to finish all over the sheets.
and why would he do that? not when he has the most perfect, soaked pussy to fill up.
he panted as he took small breaks to catch his breathing. your wetness is in his facial hair. those blue eyes looked up from where he was before he dove back in.
"please, ah! john!" you whined.
he was certain you were overwhelmed with pleasure. he gave the top of your pussy a kiss, right over you cervix. he smiled as he kissed your soft skin. kisses mark the spot.
the spot he was going to finish on.
he wiped his mouth, he knew he'd have to wash his face afterwards. the taste of you lingered on him as he got between your legs and rested on his heels. his cock stood proud.
your brain was to riddled with pleasure that his cock looked a little less intimidating.
a big cock for a big man in charge.
while he didn't make you feel small in a bad way, sometimes the sheer size him had you feeling like a little delicate creature. it didn't help that almost an hour since you entered the bedroom, he was only now fucking you.
he grabbed the pillow from you and put it under your hips for leverage. he admired your sweaty body as his cock pushed into your pussy. the feeling of your tight cunt almost knocked the wind out of him.
you covered your face as you moaned. you felt so embarrassed by how good it felt. you couldn't believe it was all fitting in there.
"holy shit, love." he groaned. it came from the depths of his soul. he felt the sparks go off in his head as he managed to get inch after inch into you. eventually his heavy fuzzy balls were rubbing against you.
he had fit it all in you.
he placed a hand on your middle and rubbed it. his wishful thinking had him wondering if he could feel it in you. the heavy weight of his cock inside of his sweet girl's even sweeter pussy.
your cheeks burned, the room felt hot. but most of all you felt full. you were thankful that he was close to eight inches and not close to nine. you weren't certain there was enough space.
but you also knew that price would make it fit.
your older, more physically imposing boyfriend started to move his hips. your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the nudge of his length against where your pussy ended. it felt like it was past your uterus and was now just in your stomach.
"so small." he chuckled, his cheeks were stained pink, "but still you are such a good girl for me. i thought i was only gettin' the tip in. but i now know that your sweet little cunny can fit all of me."
you whimpered. while the pace wasn't particularly fast, every movements made shivers run through your body. you could feel it from your toes to the tip of your nose.
price admired you though. he watched as you squirmed to accommodate his movements. a thrill of possessiveness ran up his spine at the thought of how his cock could fit in you.
not that co-worker he hated, or the guy who bagged your groceries. or even the guy who cashed your pay stubs. only him, john price.
his pace began to pick up as he felt the pleasure cross up his spine. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned in to kiss you. he planted both hands on either side of your head as he thrusted into you.
your body moved against the bed and you held onto the covers under you. you moaned and whimpered against his kiss. it was music to his ears and it made him ache for more.
his good girl, who made him all fit inside of her. weren't you just the most perfect girl he could ever ask for. he only parted the kiss for a moment before he went in for another.
his cock felt so heavy. your hole fluttered around it, it was euphoria as he continued to move. the pleasure was filling both of your heads with heavy heat. his chest was soon pressed against yours as he held your thighs up to get as deep as he could get.
you panted heavily between moans. you tried to meet his pace without thinking. your eyes were hazy. the pleasure was intense, you let you boyfriend take control however he saw fit.
"my girl."
"yes."
you were the first to climax. the pleasure built up in your gut once more and you clenched around him as you let out a high pitched noise from the intensity of the climax.
price held you legs open further as he continued to thrust into you. your wetness costed all the way to his balls by the time he was giving his last few thrusts.
"good girl." he groaned, "lettin' me fill her up." then held onto your thighs as he finished in you.
for a moment you wondered if you took your birth control today. but in all honesty, it was a little too late for that. price was certainly not firing blanks.
his cock didn't grow soft after he finished. instead it fueled a new fire in him. now that he knew he could fit inside of you, how many loads would it take to fill you to the brim.
your brain was blank as he moved you to the next position.
by the end of the night, you were covered in sweat and your middle was a little firmer from the amount of captain john price's seed was inside of you.
even if you tried to get plan b in the morning, there wasn't enough of it in the world to protect you from the sheer amount of cum there was inside of you.
This is a bit weird but hear me out. Truck driver Joel. Having to sleep in cheap motels and inside his truck. Picks up sweet, pretty hitchhiker reader, who ends up travelling the country with him and fucking in his truck, those cheap old motels, and in the middle of nowhere.
Giving joel handjobs and blowjobs while driving and joel fingering her while driving...
🫠🫠🫠
Trucker Joel. . . I love it. Sexy and fun.
@tashibum sent the middle pic one time and I love the vibe. 💛
On the first day, you're riding in silence, and he keeps looking over, checking you out. To make conversation, you ask him about his load. His neck gets pink, and he clears his throat. "my, uh--" before telling you what's in the trailer.
You get a kick out of him being flustered so later you ask him what he's gonna do with his load. When he's flustered, sometimes he adjusts his net hat (his curls stick out under it).
He's proud of his truck. It's humble but he takes good care of it. He's made the cab cozy, but you can tell he did it himself, there isn't much of an eye for design. There's definitely only one bed.
You're fixing the fitted sheet on the bed in his cab and there's a bottle of lube under the corner of the mattress.
He has a TV screen set up near the bed and offers you can stream something but it accidentally opens to porn.
The first time you stop at a motel, he takes a shower, slicks back his hair, and puts on a nice t shirt and belt, and even foregoes the hat. He takes you to eat at a diner.
He doesn't like belts though. Before the motel room door is even shut behind you, he takes his belt off with one hand in one swift motion. He does a double take at your face and can't help but smile to himself at the effect it has on you.
When you're sucking him off and he's about to cum too early, he's like "whoa, back it up now, darlin'."
Maybe he calls you bambi cause he almost hit you like a deer before picking you up.
You might have to cockwarm him in the driver's seat sometime.
He gives you back-to-back cream pies, admires the mess, and says "damn near got you bundled out" (loaded to max capacity).
Reader auction offs her virginity because she has to pay off her student loans. Lonely Price see her on the web and decides that he doesn’t just want her virginity but all of her so he asks her to be his sugar baby. He doesn’t need her for sex but needs her for the company
he thinks you’re just the sweetest and he just can’t let one of these creepy old men take your virginity <3 save it for someone special. doesn’t necessarily have to be him, he’d be happy if you just sat in his lap and played with his hair
just wants a pretty thing to get him a scotch and light his cigar for him. sat comfortably in his lap at his monthly poker game with some of his old comrades. a cocky smirk on his face when they all ogle at you for the whole night <3
he’s so mean about taking your virginity, even when you beg and basically throw yourself at him he still says no. says you’re too lovely to be ruined by a bitter, old man like him :(
instead he gets you to lay in the middle of his plush bed, watching you plunge your fingers in and out of your cunt whilst he sits in the corner of the room with a cigar in one hand and his cock in the other
instructs you on how to play with yourself with the deep, baritone voice of his. tells you what a good girl you are, how sweet and kind you are to spend your time with a bad man like him :(
gives you his bank card with no shame. the type of sugar daddy who has a scheduled delivery of bouquets every week with a lovely note. always enjoys the way you thank him, sending over a picture and a note to open it when he’s alone
the camera aimed between your legs, your fingers holding one of the flowers and a clear view of your damp panties in the background :( enough to make him excuse himself to the bathroom to rub one out
but someone linked a corn twitter video of a guy eating a girl out saying it was Captain John Price right...
and i could see it. the hair, the face, the way he did it. but what stuck out was the wedding band on his fucking finger.
so. now i can't stop thinking about married!neighbor!price x babysitter!reader.
mildnsfw-not explicit but still mdni
you're just a pretty young thing on break from uni who just wanted to make a little cash. your parents' neighbors seemed to be the perfect answer. they needed a babysitter as the parents were too busy doing other things.
how could you say no? more than happy to look after the little girl. hang out with her all day, or some afternoons while her parents were out all day, sometimes the time trickled into night - nearly midnight.
you didn't mind. not when they - when price - paid so well.
especially not when price made it up to you those late nights by flashing a little more money and crawling between your thighs as you lounged on their plush sofa. watching as price greedily took off the shorts and panties you wore.
his face buried between your thighs, bread scraping the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. his golden wedding band gleaming under the light against your stomach as he kept you in place. his eyes focusing on your face, watching as you came undone again and again.
"dirty girl, letting a married man eat you out..." his husky voice growls, nipping the skin of your inner thigh with his teeth.
there's a fiery look in your eyes as you softly hiss, looking down at him. "says the old man who's getting off on eating out the babysitter." you chide, having spotted the bulge in his pants.
your attitude sets off a spark in him that he thought he well and truly no longer he had. who knew all it took was a pretty young thing with bite and fire in her to get him eager again.
he clicks his tongue, unsure if he's impressed or annoyed at the quick comeback. but he climbs up towards your face, "cheeky fucking girl..." he hisses with no real heat.
there's a dark look in his eyes, which starts to shine when he see's a smile spread across your face, tongue licking your lips, "dirty old fucking man..."
yeah. you'll be the death of him.
a/n: kinda rushed because it was very much a spur of the moment type of thought lmaoo.
Bodyguard Price who accidentally walks in on you with another man’s face between your thighs, expecting you to snap your head in his direction and curse at him to get out. Except you don’t. Your head just tilts toward him, bliss plastered over your face with a small smirk creeping across your lips. Your eyes burn into his as he begins backing away from the door, but your brows frown, almost a look of pleading —
Don’t go.
So John stays, and he’s not sure what makes him, maybe it’s the way you look, or the way you sound, or even the way you’re peering at him like he’s the one serving you pleasure. And it makes him wonder if it’s what you wanted, leaving your bedroom door slightly ajar, something that you never do whenever you have guests over, knowing that he’d call up to check on you for the final time that evening.
He scans your entire nude figure, your knees being pushed up and open, your hands gripped to your satin sheets, your hips softly grinding against the tongue of the lucky son of a bitch. A look of guilt is plastered across his face, knowing that he should quit whilst he’s ahead, and leave you to your business. But your eyes are locked to his, cementing his feet to the floor, and he does something he’ll know he’ll regret tomorrow, he leans against the frame. He makes himself comfortable, he lets you know that he wants to stay and watch.
And with just that singular action, the image of John paired with the heat that was pooling within your pussy becomes too much. Your orgasm brims, and it pours out from all angles. The eyes that were trained on your bodyguard, roll to the back of your skull, your back arching off your bed, as your knees clasp together. The symphonies that you sing are nothing short of perfection in John’s ears, all whilst he watches you fall apart infront of him.
Ecstasy, it feels like it last for hours. Your orgasm overwhelming you, and turning you into jelly, and when your vision un-blurs, you’re no longer looking towards the door, but instead your ceiling. Becoming deaf to what your hookup mutters as he peels from you, your eyes trail to the frame once again, except this time, it’s empty, and clarity hits you full force in the face.
Every time that Price has free time, he plays golf.
He picked up the sports a while back, when during rehabilitation after a special shitty injury his doctor recommended light walks.
So he started to play. Sundays in the morning until noon, then a pint, then home.
It was nothing more than doctor's orders at first.
But then he met you.
The little caddy girl with dangerously short skirts and a sharp tongue to get the juiciest tips.
That's what he thought it was at first, that you were just doing his job.
He felt perverted on the way he would look at your young body, how his eyes would lay on your pink lips when you bite your nail. How he wished to slide his-
“Mr. Price.” Your sweet voice draws him out of his trance.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He asks in a beat, seeing how your face lightens at the nicknames.
“It's your turn.” You say, pointing with your head to the ball. “Which club?”
“Whichever you think is best.” He says, handing you the one he had on his hand from the last hit.
“Hmm… letting me choose, Mr. Price? What a privilege!” You exclaim, walking the couple of steps back to the cart. Leaning over the seat to pick the club.
And Price's shameless eyes roam the back of your legs all the way up to your cheeks spiking from the skirt.
“How about this one?” You say, pulling it from the bag and handing it to him. “I'm sure you'll get it in… the ball, I mean.”
He shakes his head, taking the club and getting in position. Slightly swinging his hips as he gets the motion, hitting the ball swiftly but too soft to actually reach the hole.
“Aw, Mr. Price… I expected better aim from the military…” You say, a teasing pout on your face as you look up at him, using your hand to cover your eyes from the sun.
“My aim is perfect, mind you, little minx.” He says, walking to the cart to grab a water bottle.
You skip after him, a mischievous chuckle leaving your mouth. “You call that ‘good aim’? I’m sorry for your lovers, Mr. Price.”
“Oh, shut up!” Price exclaims, making you laugh again. “All my ‘lovers’ are perfectly happy with my aim.”
You hummed, satisfied with the raise you got out of him. “I bet they are.”
Price scoffs, looking at you; checking your face for any joke hidden in your features.
“Wouldn't you like to know.”
“Maybe I do”
And maybe Price thought he was perverted, but if you are just as filthy as him… what's the damage?
That's how you found the two of you hiding in the maintenance closet back at the resort, with you squatting down and with Price rolling his cock deep into your mouth.
“Fuck… just like that, sweetheart… suck on it like the good girl you are, fuck!” He lets his head drop back, his hands keeping your head in place as he slowly slides his cock deeper and deeper, hitting the back of your throat with ease. The lewd noise filling the small space. “I bet you are fucking soaked, aren't ya? Hm? Play with your little cunt, love, let me hear how fucking wet you are…”
You move your hand under your skirt, pulling it up and sliding your hand inside your underwear. And the moment you peel your lips apart, the sound of your juices gets to Price's ear, urging him to fuck your throat faster.
“Just like that, darling… fuck your pretty little cunt while I fuck your mouth… such a good girl, letting me do what I please with you… Look at you… so fucking pretty…” You look at his eyes, seeing the hungry stare on his face, making you clench around your own fingers. You feel his thick digits dig into your skull, making you wish so badly that it was his fingers inside of you.
“C’mon, pretty girl… make yourself cum… let me feel you moan around my dick, yeah, just like that… such a good fucking girl.” His thrust emphasises every word, making your eyes tear as your spit rolls down your chin.
And it's the way he is talking you through it, how he slows down his pace to keep himself from cumming, making sure you do first, making sure you follow his orders. But he still holds your head so dearly, his thumbs caressing your head as if his dick wasn't bruising the back of your throat.
But it's the promise of what will come after this, after today, that has you spilling over the edge, soaking your hand and underwear, and your throat clenching around his lengths.
He cums so deep into your throat that you only manage to get the taste on his way out, making sure to clean his shaft sucking him in just for a second making him hiss. You let it go with a sonorous pop, and sit back on your feet taking your hand out.
He stands in front of you, an intimidating 6ft man, wide and strong, looking down at you as you kneel between his feet. Your chin wet from the spit of sucking him off and the little mischievous smile still on your face.
“I think I just developed a new kind of appreciation for golf.”
unrequited love with john price (angst, smut, no happy ending, crying during sex)
john knows it’s his fault. he shouldn’t have indulged you so many times. he should have let your silly little crush fizzle out instead of nurturing the flame inside of you. turning the little flicker into a full blown blaze every time he took you to bed with him
even then, it should have ended with sex. it’s harsh but he should’ve kicked you out every time instead of letting you stay the night. he’d play with your hair and whisper sweet things to you, and let you snuggle into his chest with a content smile on your face
he knew the day would come when you would be laying in his bed and finally confess your feelings. god knows he had no plans on doing such a thing. he had just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. he gives you a sympathetic smile as you fidget with your hands, sweet mumbles of love falling from the lips he had kissed just minutes before
“I’m so sorry, love…” he responded and you’re breath instantly hitched. humiliation burning onto your face as you look away from him, chewing on your lip to avoid bursting into tears and making this horrible situation a million times worse
and john knows he should’ve let you leave, throw on your clothes and give you space to deal with what just happened. he certainly shouldn’t have tugged you back into bed, press apologetic kisses to your face and allow his hands to roam over your naked body. soft cries leaving your throat and tears slipping down your warmed cheeks as he fucks you again, slow gentle grinds of his hips as he whispers in your ear
“you’re such a lovely girl. so sweet and kind. so many people are going to love you, princess…” his lips brush against yours, “I just can’t be one of them.”
your lip wobbles even as you cum around him, pulling your hands over your face to hide your crying. he pulls them away and kisses the salty tears away, repeating the words ‘I’m sorry’ when he finishes inside of you
sends you on your way with a kiss on your forehead, telling you to let him know when you get home safe. you don’t even look at him as you give a soft nod of your head. eyes red and raw from crying
he waits for the text before blocking your number and turning off his phone, going to bed with heavy shoulders and a guilty heart…
price patting his lap with a soft smile and quietly rumbling, “c’mere love. won’t you give me a kiss?”
or him doing that thing where he adjusts himself on the couch so he tugs you closer to him—chest to chest—so you don’t fall.
or how he maps his hands along your back, digging just enough to give gentle massages, while you nuzzle your face on the column of his neck.
or just how you feel him talking so it’s lulling you to sleep and john notices so he talks quieter, softer, until he’s got you dozing off and just before you fully slip into your slumber, you feel his lips brush against your temple.
I know this is gonna be very niche but I don’t care I need to talk about it
really into the idea of price telling me to quiet down when i’m interrupting him :( sat on the sofa next to him whilst he watches the footy with a beer in his hand, raising his arm to let you cuddle up to him
let’s out a soft grunt when you kiss at his neck, nuzzling into his warm skin and taking a deep inhale of his aftershave, “not now, love.”
you let out a quiet whine and nuzzle further into him, “I’m not doin’ anything.” you’d mumble, shifting your position so your legs are draped over his lap
“shush.” he’d say, not even looking at you and taking a sip of his beer. “the football’s on. pipe down.”
god yes pls just shush me and tell me to sit there and look pretty captain <3333
price x escort! reader who he hires so he has someone to come home to in between deployments, to help with the loneliness when he returns to civilian life. Someone to eat dinner with and look forward to when he wakes up. But he doesn't count on becoming completely obsessed with your pussy, fucking you every time you meet, confused when you dont charge him extra for all the nights you slept the night in his arms. You say that you don't charge extra for clients who fuck you so good that you cant walk straight. He still ends up insisting on tipping you an obscene amount of money for every time you come, though.
the new year brings with it not only a certain mood and memories, but also an unusually warm desire to give joy to loved ones and oneself, both in gifts and in a holiday miracle.
accordingly, tthis did not escape price, standing in the vinyl record store while he thoughtfully scratched his slightly gray beard, looking at the shelf with sealed, brand new records in front of him, one hand half in the pocket of his tight jeans, while his thumb lay flat on the rough fabric that emphasized him muscular thighs.
everyone has their own hobbies and interests, and at some point one of them included listening to their favorite songs on the player itself, there was something bewitching about it, at least it seemed so to you, john himself never really answered why to him he likes to spend a lot of money on vinyl records, fancy record players and expensive cigars, which he lit while listening to the next soothing melody, filling the space with thick clouds of smoke, while doing any background business, quietly muttering the words of the song under his breath.
when you listen to music through vinyl records, you really feel and hear all the background and additional sounds, catching the purity, even if it is ultimately intended to mix with your guttural moans as your body bounces up and down on his wide, muscular thighs, some old track is interrupted by the sounds of your plush ass slapping as you continually lower yourself onto his wide, meaty cock, letting the fat tip press against your most sensitive spots and hit your cervix, forcing you to sing for him while his cigar free hand crawled up and down along your thigh, avoiding the sticky mess from your slick, thumb deftly founding its way to your pulsating clit.
a growl rumbles from his lips, along with heavy smoke, as your velvety walls tighten around his thick cock with each of his thrusts, although he allows you to take full control despite the slight tremors in his legs and the swelling of his cock inside your hole, his tip slimy from the huge amount of his precum and your sweet wetness that covers him right down to his balls and thick pubic hair, blue eyes are increasingly absorbed by dark pupils as he looks into yours, half lidded with pleasure, studying your parted swollen lips, thrusting roughly and forcing you almost scream from the way he drives into your sweet spot, and his thumb rubs your clit, flashes of pleasure prevent you from processing his request — «c'mon, don't be shy, sing for me, darling»
you give him what he wants when john takes his part of the initiative and finally begins to pick up the rhythm himself and push into your wet warmth, no matter how much time you spend on his meaty cock, your hole burned every time from the way his fat tip stretched you, before proudly plunging between the tight, gummy walls, hitting all the most sensitive places without even having to pound into you, but he does it, his hips moving and thighs bouncing as your beautiful body rides his cock, round breasts bouncing with each hard thrust and he tilts his head, examining every mark he previously left — red and purple hickeys, bites, slight redness from his beard and chest hair on your skin, «damn sexy», the thought spins in his head.
two thick fingers beckon you to lean towards his face as he uses his free hand to move the burning cigar away from his lips, and you lean in, obediently, allowing him to press himself against your already open mouth, absorbing your moans and mewls — «mmrghm! mm! joh — hmph» exhaling thick smoke deep into your throat and intertwining his wet, hot tongue with yours, spreading the squelches of kisses and the way he pounded into your pussy around the room, hastily extinguishing the tobacco product in the ashtray to squeeze the plushness of your ass, taking all control into his hands and impaling you again and again, no longer needing to tease your small, swollen clit, focusing only on stretching your hole to the limit, pounding into your cervix on repeat.
and oh, how he loved to see how you turned into a charming stupidity before his eyes, lips open in a silent moan, swollen and wet from kisses, hazy gaze, eyelashes fluttering every now and then and eyes rolling back with every thrust and rock of his hips, he deliberately changed the pace to see how your pleasure changed, slow thrusts and polite rolls before they gave way to rough pumps, not even allowing his wet cock to come out all the way when your walls were already clenching and sucking him back in, your ass slapping against his hairy thighs, damn, he can continue like this endlessly, looking at your beautiful face, loving eyes.
you can’t focus on almost anything other than intense pleasure, the persistent smell of tobacco and an inaudible melody in the background, all your attention is only on how john looked into your eyes, calmly, measuredly, while his thick cock abused your cunt, forcing you spasm each time and squeeze him more and more towards the way his thrusts turns into measured pumps, you both were close, so close that your legs had already begun to give in, trembling intensely to meet the way you were babbling through the gathered saliva in your mouth, uttering what had accumulated — «pleaseplease, john — ah! joohhnn, please, harder, please, wanna come, need to.. hmnph!»
he grumbles in response, hearing your words, but in fact, he himself is not able to find the strength to answer anything, knowing that only moans and curses will follow, but he is close, very close, his thrusts become sloppy and tip twitches, plunging into you all the way, short nails digging into the plush skin of your raw, red ass with the intensity with which he controls your movements, looking down at you fleetingly before pressing himself to your breasts, running his tongue flatly over the sensitive and red nipple before sucking on it and bite gently, alternating, hoarsely squeezing out the only thing he has the strength to, moaning gutturally, ordering — «c'mon then, cum baby, cum for me — gush on my cock, eh?»
and just his words, mixed with a desperate moan in his rough voice, carry you over the roof and higher, your walls pulsate, spasming and contracting around him with incredible tightness when you completely go limp on his thick length, trembling and curling toes while you are gushed and cummed all along his cock, moaning low and outstretched — «cummin, i'm cumming, johnjohnjohn!! s'good, please, yes!» covering and drenching him in your clear slick mass, feeling how his tip throbbed and fidgeted against your g spot, staining the pinkish walls in white, milky thick cum, not allowing a drop to spill out while he, with languid thrusts, pumped it all as deep as possible, allowing your mixed fluids cover his meaty shaft.
the player still works and the sound becomes clearer in your ears when all the background sounds fade away, leaving only your ragged breath as he throws his head back and you bury yourself under his chin, in a short scattering of hard stubble, smelling his cologne and sweat while warm, calloused palms smoothed your reddened ass, still buried deep within, but you didn’t resist, allowing your hole to relax and settle him in your moist warmth, while his lips pressed to your temple and slid to your ear, following a peaceful grumble and an occasional hum to the music — «gotta do this every time i buy us a new vinyl, darling» ‹𝟹
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
