John Making Simon Watch You Get The Pounding Of Your Life Because The Two Of You Got Into A Nasty Little

i know it's been said a million times over, but john price is the kind of man to give you the ultimate princess treatment at all times.

gets legitimately annoyed when you keep racing in front of him to open your own doors. starts lunging forward and snatching you off the ground when you start to make a run for it

"you're a right brat, you know that?"

ultimate handyman. mumbles that he's "picked a few things up" through the years when you ask how he knows how to fix literally everything. assigns you the very important job of flashlight holder when necessary

loves when you lay on his chest at night to tell him all about your day. runs his hands up and down your back, plays with your hair

forever gifting you flowers. he's on a first name basis with the local florist and makes sure to send you special bouquets when he's deployed

keeping all the sweet message cards that come with them in a little box in your closet

likes helping you put your shoes on, absolutely demands to do it when you're wearing heels. always presses a kiss to your ankle when he's finished, looking up at you with a positively sinful look in his eyes

makes you show off your outfits to him before you two go out. twirls his finger in the air and lets out a low whistle when you do a little spin, a shy smile on your lips

smiles when you tell him you're going out for an afternoon with friends. nods at his wallet sitting on the bedside table. "you know where my card is darling, don't forget it."

king of breakfast in bed. very good chef overall, but his specialty is grilling because he is the ultimate dad

builds you random yet extremely useful things for your sheer convenience. you made one comment about how you wished you could utilize the little bit of space between your washing machine and the wall, and by the end of the weekend he'd built a custom shelf, stained it and installed it

letting him bend you over the washing machine as a thank you

John Price and a younger reader, but one who didn’t mind that he couldn’t always give her what she wanted. One who found it endearing when he stressed over how he wasn’t performing, and was content with pleasing herself most days.

That didn't mean that he didn’t know what he was doing, or that he was anything less than satisfactory in general. In fact, it made sense — he ruined you so badly after sessions where he really got at it, essentially spearing you in two and leaving you a babbling, aching mess, that you often couldn’t stand for days afterwards, let alone have another round.

So instead of going at it like feral creatures every other minute, which was how Price assumed his subordinates did by the way they gazed at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, you’d have sparing nights of pleasure, but you’d always make them count.

And that was just how the two of you liked it.

Had imagine giving the old man and his abilities some love without immediately resorting to his teammates <33 (not that im complaining id take any of them)

Deployment

I think Nik sleeps naked. Not a stitch on that bear. And he gets hot so the windows have to be open, and the blankets are getting kicked off at some point in the night.

Meanwhile, Price wears the cotton t-shirt, the plaid flannel trousers and wraps himself up in that duvet like a burrito. He gets cold, and itchy, and his bollocks stick to his thighs, and it's just uncomfortable.

When Nik wants sex, he has to unwrap Price like a present. Nothing gets him going more than the feel and smell of a sleepy, bed-warm John Price that he can slowly tease into arousal, feel him flush, skin to skin, and then the soft, wrecked whimpers as Nik sinks his cock into him.

Sure, they like it rough and raw too, but there's something uniquely special about seeing that level of vulnerability from his partner, and Nik laps it up.

more blunt!simon because he’s hot

he doesn’t even look up from his phone when he says it.

just sprawled across the couch, one arm behind his head, legs spread like he’s on a throne instead of a beat-up cushion that still smells like smoke and sweat.

“ya know, if you’re gonna walk around like that, you oughta be ready to get fucked.”

you freeze. halfway across the living room, wearing nothing but a big t-shirt and the tiniest pair of shorts you forgot you even owned.

“like what?” you ask, already feeling the heat crawl up your throat.

he finally lifts his gaze.

smirks.

“like a mouth-watering little tease,” he says. “jesus. i can see the crease of your pussy from here.”

you make a shocked sound—half gasp, half laugh—and wrap your arms around yourself like that’ll help.

he scoffs.

“don’t act shy. you bent over the fridge earlier like you wanted me to notice. ass all high, thighs squeezin’ together like you were tryna get off on the cold air.”

you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, lazy and cruel.

“if i pulled your shorts down right now, you’d be wet already. bet your fuckin’ panties are stickin’ to you.”

you stare. breath caught in your chest.

he grins wider.

“c’mon. lemme see. won’t even touch. just wanna take a look. see if i’m right.”

his eyes drop, heavy-lidded and hungry.

“you do like it when i talk like this, huh? your nipples are hard.”

you cross your arms tighter, turn to walk away, but his voice chases after you—

low and amused and absolutely depraved.

“run off if you want. just know the second i hear that shower start, i’m gonna be sittin’ here jerkin’ off with the door open. loud. so you know what you did to me.”

you will live and you will say the wrong things and make mistakes and people will love you anyways.

i have another gaz thought…

this was inspired by @buttdumplin so blame him for the debauchery

mdni. unedited :)

there’s no way you’re seeing things right.

the sun shines brightly, no cloud in the sky, no shadow on the grounds below but you swear you’ve got to be seeing things. you must be. it’s the only logical explanation.

because there’s no way that your awfully kind and incredibly handsome neighbor would put himself in this situation.

at first glance, he’s not doing anything wrong. just lounging by the complex pool, his smooth dark skin on display, with a book in hand. he even matched his sunglasses and swim shorts to round out his look.

it’s on second glance, when you let your eyes trail over him and linger that you notice it. how his shorts do little to hide anything, no imagination needed. especially not when his girthy long cock strains against the thin material.

he’s got his right leg splayed open, the meat of his inner thigh to the sun, with his left leg stretched out in front of him. you can see right where the base of him starts, the fat of his balls accentuated by the way the fabric is pulled taut against them. you can trace the curve of his cock, tucked along the inside of his thigh. down, down, down until there’s something peeking out and something wet against-

you immediately look away as the realization dawns on you. you’re sure he can’t seen you, the glare of the sun too fierce to see into your apartment, but your hands still tremble. you feel the ache between your legs as you make sense of what you saw. try to figure out why there was a single patch of wetness on your neighbor’s thigh while the rest of him was bone dry.

how the fuck are you supposed to focus on work now?

———

gaz knows his pretty thing keeps their desk along their window. likes the way the natural light warms them up while their coffee wakes them up.

he also knows they love to stare out their window . loves to watch the wind ruffle the trees, the way the city moves, how the people act. and with such a lovely view of their pool, gaz might as well give them something to look at, right? he’d be a bad neighbor if he didn’t

it takes a few weeks to choose the right spot for him to lounge. some are too close, angled such a way where they can’t watch him. others too far, they’d miss the important details they need to see. finally, he finds the spot. right in the line of sight of their window, it’ll let them see everything he wants them to.

he starts off small, just lounging head thrown back towards the sun, but he hates that. he can't see them. he settles for an incline next, but with no glasses he's sure they’ll see how his eyes don't stray from them at all. how can they when he can see how the waistband digs into their skin in a way that has his tongue running over his teeth. he wants to bite, sink into their soft flesh.

finally he sets himself up with the glasses and book. holding it so that he’s able to look right over the edge of the page and stare straight through their window. so he can watch the sweet thing he’s been stuck on since he bumped into them in the lobby.

its a wonder it takes you so long to notice his reaction to you. gaz isn’t sure how you’ve gone so long without noticing when just the thought of you watching him has the blood flow redirecting. how his dick twitches at the thought of the pool. the way he leaks when he’s in the chair setting himself up for you.

he blames it on the shorts. too practical, too concealing. he’s not here for any of that, he’s here for you to see him. to see the outline of his pretty cock. the one he’ll be driving into you if he plays his cards right.

so he gets to fixing that right away. his shorts loose a few centimeters every time he’s at the pool, excitement bubbling up as he notices the way your eyes trail over him. always so polite and proper like you don’t want to intrude on his privacy. completely unaware to the fact this whole moment is being entirely curated for you.

his dick is straining before he even gets to the pool. he can feel the fabric digging into the fat of his ass and the seam rubbing along his head, already aiding the drip of slick from it. he’s tingling with the anticipation, dying to know what you’ll do when you see him.

he picks a “casual” position, especially chosen so thar his shorts can ride up to expose him. so that you can see the way he drips for you. squeezes his balls just a little before he settles so that his dick can drip a little more. enough so that it pools on his thigh.

he twitches when he noticed how long you’re staring. the way your eyes slowly make your way over his body after holding out for so long. can see the exact moment you see his shorts with the way your eyes widen and your mouth opens slightly. knows you’re tracing the length of him when your eyes drift downward and you lick your lips. and when your pretty eyes stop and your tongue catches in the corner of your mouth he knows you’ve spotted it. how he weeps at the thought of being buried in you.

you turn too quickly. hand trembling as you reach for your water bottle. he can see how you adjust yourself, drinking water, turning your little desk fan. all in an attempt to keep yourself looking dignified.

but gaz know’s he’s finally pushed enough to break past your facade. it’s just a matter of time before he has you under him, trembling.

francis abernathy is genuinely god’s strongest warrior because how did this motherfucker survive THREE homoerotic failed situationships in a ROW, bunny, bunny’s murder, henry, richard, charles, incest twins, being a redhead, a SUICIDE ATTEMPT, being catholic, being gay in the 80s, being catholic AND gay BOTH in the 80s, multiple nervous breakdowns, vermont, an alcoholic absent mother, a homophobic grandpa, being fatherless AND to top it all off being the only diva in the classics group 😢

He's about to rain down a million smooches

Thank you so much to @tacticallyunsoundjohnnyboy for commissioning me to draw my favourite husbands 🫶

soap the type of guy to pretend to give u backshots if u lean over a counter