okay, you guys can’t tell me that husband john price isn’t a domestic man, a soft domestic man who absolutely adores the domestic life. he gives off that energy, like i can imagine him going home to his cute little wife, hugging and kissing on her and cooking with her in the kitchen. john who hosts cook-outs often on the patio (with a beer in hand) to invite over the team and a few of your girl friends. i mean, ya’ll can’t see price waking you up with a cup of coffee or tea?? kissing you on the temple when you wrap your arms around him from behind when he’s cooking breakfast?! this man literally builds things for you to make cooking, cleaning, or anything else you do around the house, easier. john will literally stand outside the bathroom with a notepad in hand to write down the grocery list with you (🧍🏻♂️). john also loves wrapping you in his arms and swaying with you when you play music. john will always pull you onto his lap when the two of you sit on the porch to watch the rain. he’s so soft for you and you guys! he watches you, it’s an intense, love-filled gaze. he notices everything about you. this man doesn’t know what he’d do without you, probably be lost tbh.
mmmm i have these thoughts about being sorta kinda drunk and hanging out with simon. you’re so touchy when you’re tipsy, and you’re giggly, and you’re sitting on the couch next to him, hugging his big arm and pressing little kisses into his shoulder. he doesn’t react much, just keeps his eyes trained on the tv as he sips his whiskey; he’s so indifferent to your affection, but he never pushes you away, lets you kiss him and touch him and whine and coo, and he never tells you to go away or leave him alone.
you nuzzle your face against his masked cheek, kissing along the cotton fabric there. you’re so warm from the alcohol, a little dizzy, and now you’re babbling, but he doesn’t seem annoyed.
“love you so much, simon,” you whine, and he just pats your thigh gently.
“can’t ever live without you,” you coo, and he squeezes your knee in acknowledgement.
“i’d do anything for you,” you whisper into his ear, and he just grunts, pushing his mask up as he takes another long sip of his drink, and you tilt your head to the side, watching him, your pretty, pretty man.
“would you do anything for me?” you ask softly, leaning in close. he licks his scarred lips, but he doesn’t look at you yet. “w-would…would you kill for me, simon?”
and then he finally looks at you, dark eyes meeting yours, and you squeak when he wraps that big hand around your waist and tugs you against him.
he smirks, tilting his head to the side. “‘v already killed for ya, luv,” he says lowly, and this is simon, and simon doesn’t lie, and you know by the look in his eyes he doesn’t mean this happened at work, either.
suddenly, you feel sober. but his hand tightens, and it lowers, and you swallow when he grabs a handful of your ass and forces your mouth against his.
