Bestfriend!Johnny being an absolute menace and getting his hands on Laswell's and Price's phone at a drunken get-together with the 141. Just some harmless fun, he said, what's the harm in downloading a dating app on their phones; if anything they might stop being such hard asses after finally getting some.
What he didn't account for was you, using the same app, who just so happen to match with both of them.
Or the next time he would swing by your place unannounced, finding his captain balls deep inside of you while the chief smoked next to you, promising to take you next if you just took it like a good girl.
Simon never heard his father say sorry, or please, or thank-you, or I love you.
In their house, when his mama would put down hot, heavy casseroles, her skin damp with sweat, eyes darting for some sweet words, his father never said one word of thanks, let alone 'some'. Only waved his thick, impatient hand.
His father never took the plates to the sink. Never noticed when she stayed up at night to sort the screws by size and purpose—organizing the chaos he left behind just to find one damn hammer.
His father never said ‘please can you—’ only grunted with that bitter mouth, glared with those unkind eyes when he needed something.
Simon never heard him say I love you. And he couldn’t believe his eyes the day his father plucked out his baby brother from his mama's arm, and didn’t spare one glance for his Ma. She didn't deserved that, did she? Her weak frail body, cracked murmuring lips — she should be celebrated with adoration, comfort, love.
Love, and an infinite of it.
His father never sat beside her just to drink tea. Never told her about his day. Never asked about hers — what she did, or liked, or wanted. Never reached out his thumb, however calloused it was, to wipe away the sprout on her chin. That he was grateful she's next to him, that he loved her.
So when life happened, and Simon was left to pick up his pieces and place them in a way he wanted to be—he thought whomever he will be, anything, but his father.
Anything but him.
And then life happened again but this time it arranged itself in beautiful ways. Because you came with it this time. You and all your silly lovely ways, you who kissed your knee before resting your chin, you who cheered up catching up with fridge' light switching off, you so beautiful, so kind, made up of sundust. His sunshine — lighting up his world.
And God, he was so, so grateful. Every moment, every day !
“I love you,” he’d say the moment he wakes up next to you. Pressing his love on your lips, on your shoulder, on your neck.
“I love you,” when you spill milk in the morning daze and stare at it like it might disappear.
“I love you,” when he wipes your chin and kisses your forehead.
“I love you,” when he takes your hand in his and rubs it between his palm, why ? Because he'll spend his whole life keeping your hands warm than anything else.
“I love you.” because he loves, loves, and loves you so much that it hurts, so much that it heals, so much that it's everything sweet ever happened to him.
“I love you.” for all the ways his father failed, and Simon too, as a son, as a brother — failed to save his mama and lil' brother. I love you, because in loving you he is allowing himself to be loved.
So for the Beta!Roach thing, do we want Captain MacTavish and Lieutenant Riley or Lieutenant Riley and Sergeant MacTavish. Personally, I love the idea of Simon being tormented by two reckless Sergeant, but what do you guys think?
@5starbullshittery "Oh reader is actually infertile oh no what you gonna do now😏"
Oh sweetheart, don't forget who they are. They might be sweet, and worship everything about you, but that's only to you. They are still very dangerous men. Dangerous men who know even more dangerous people, and someone will have a way to get you pregnant anyway.
A way that won't be good for you, but they know you'll do it for them. You would never wanna disappoint them, right?
So you better be a good girl and make sure there's a babe in your belly sooner, rather than later.
Reader x 141, where you're not ready to have kids yet and for once have a quiet celebration with yourself when shark week hits.
Not realizing your four hardened military men positively seething when they realize what's going on. Well, if you weren't gonna be a good girl for them on your own accord, they might just have to teach your womb a lesson, too.
They were gonna make you a momma whethere you liked it or not.
Beta!Roach who never truly called omega!Johnny or omega!Simon his. Always feeling like he was just a placeholder, and swearing that it was enough, it was better than nothing.
And then you came along. Fixing effortlessly an insecurity within him that Simon and Johnny hadn't even known was there. Gently but with a firm hand coaxing Roach to take up space again.
Just like Omegas and Betas couldn't be in a pack on their own longterm, so couldn't Alphas and Betas. The dynamic too unstable in both cases to last.
But something about your presence healed a piece inside of Roach, so that he was finally willing to call someone his.
Beta!Roach who's with omega!Simon and omega!Johnny. Beta!Roach who meets you, pretties and kindest thing he's ever seen, and he can't believe his luck when you say you're an alpha.
Beta!Roach who's already mentally picking out a spot for you to mark, knowing you're the perfect fit, not just for him but his two omegas, too.
All while those two omegas are seething with jealousy and angst, thinking you're gonna take their Roach away from them.
Because what pretty alpha would want three partners, much less two burly and headstrong omegas like them?
Soap with a linguaphile!Reader who, upon visiting your flat for the first time, immediately pops a boner at seeing how much you, probably more than him, you know about his native tongue
services requested {older! joel miller x rich! reader}
pairing: older, no-outbreak! joel miller x younger, rich! reader
summary: you're the daughter of a new client. someone asking after repairs and the rebuilding of a house from the studs up. he doesn't anticipate you being the one funding the project nor the proposition to be your on-demand repair man. the money you're offering would help him to provide for his family without worry, his company slowing down as the years catch up with him and tommy sets his sights on settling down.
word count: 1k
warnings: sugar mommy vibes, reader see's joel and knows she wants to provide for him, joel is older and tired, his life beginning to slow as his body aches, power dynamics, reader isn't mean or controlling, she dotes on joel, emotional constipation and emotional turmoil, joel struggles with the offer you give him, how he feels like it's a trap. emotional insecurity, hurt and comfort, sexual undertones, reader doesn't make joel do anything he doesn't want to do, joel doesn't make reader feel bad about her standing, more to be added if i expand on this
a/n: this is literally the last thing i need, another wip. but good lord, that post going around about an older man encountering a younger, richer woman got my brain ticking hehe
"What do you mean, you want to hire me? I'm already workin' a job for you."
"For your...services, Mr. Miller. To be called upon at any time."
"The only services I offer are contracting and repair work, ma'am." He brings a hand up to run a thumb underneath his bottom lip, eyes taking in the flutter of your lashes. The almost...yearning look about your soft features. Younger than he is, in full control of those should you choose to lay that look upon. He's sure the boys your age would fall over themselves to see it again, to see more. Hell, he's ready to fall over himself and he's surely twice your age.
All so he could see that smile grace your lips and see a flash of teeth he can't help but stop picturing what they would look like holding tight over your own bottom lip, depraved sounds slipping between them as he pressed tight and heavy over you. As his hips slam into yours, his co-
He shakes his head, aware of the watching gaze you don't let up from him as you sit serenely at your desk. The top of your shirt dipped low as you lean forward to rest your chin in the cup of your hands, taunting him. What little power he feels from his larger frame, his years over you, his skills he knows you don't share- they diminish as he glances down to the new skin before meeting your eyes again.
"Of course, Mr. Miller. Those are the services I'm asking after." You tilt you head just a bit, and like a match catching, friction igniting it- his stomach jolts as he pictures that same look aimed up at him as you sit on your knees in front of him.
"I have a company to run, can't exactly turn down an offer for a job."
"This would be more of an... open-ended contract. I would reach out for any repairs your capable hands are able to work on. From mechanics of vehicles, to construction work, to repairs on established properties. I would pay you a going rate of..."
Joel's mind goes blank, the amount offered per week an astronomical amount. The way you go on about how even if you didn't have any jobs for him during a week, he would still be compensated. His meals provided and a company card with his name plastered on it in silver on a slick black is flashed as him atop a neat stack of papers with bold print.
"For you to look over, Mr. Miller. There is not rush nor does the offer expire. Please get back to me at your convenience."
"Uh, well-" He isn't sure what to think, how to feel at the moment. The offer too good to be true, the amount of money would allow him to only work for you. His own clients willing to pay for his work but not to wait for the time frames he's been giving lately. It's only him in command of three crews, they can only work so fast, and he's seeing them get poached by other companies with better hours, more pay.
Joel's made a name for himself with 'Miller Contracting'. But as the years go on, he's hoped to pass it on to his younger brother. A person who has begun to see his life toward a different path, one of less hours and more focus on his wife and unborn baby. He sighs, knowing that the thoughts would circle endlessly in his mind should he let them begin.
"There is absolutely no pressure, just wanted to extend the offer. I have found that...other men have embellished their skill sets in order to receive the same offer. But you have the skills, you are competent."
"I'll-I'll get back to you, ma'am."
"The number at the top of the contract, it's an all hours one. Feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns, any stipulations or changes you'd like to make. I hope you have a very good rest of the day, Mr. Miller." You smile at him, eyes bright as you watched the way his throat bobbed with a harsh swallow.
Later that evening, two drinks deep and another poured into his cup, he settles into the worn leather of his couch with the contract in his hand. He's flipping through the many pages, preparing to read through it when a certain word catches his eye, making his choke on the drink swallow he had just taken.
Intimacy Clause
His skin is suddenly hot, fueled by the liquor he's already ingested, his thoughts turning to filth as a flash of pleasure flares brightly in his belly. Oh....he's certainly in over his head. He's heard of this- what was it called? Sugar daddy dynamic, but if he's the one getting the benefits and wages in exchange that would make him- no, he doesn't want to think about it that way. It's a job offer, a working contract.
He's got half a mind to deny the contract outright but he can't help the way his eyes devour the words in front of him, from the first page to the last.
His phone is in his hand, thick fingers dialing the number you had provided, no regard for the late hour of the night. He's downing the last bit of his drink, grunting around the sting of it as he hears the ringing loud in in his ear.
His heart is beating heavy, slowly, anticipation making him feel like there are far too many rings for there to be an answer on the other side of the line. He's about to cancel it when there's a click and your melodic voice greets him, pleasure flaring up in his belly again.
"Been thinking about me, Mr. Miller?" The coy tone causes a shiver to run down his spine.
Price: Fixing anything in your house that you might need - and also don't need. This man doesn't feel sane unless he can prove his worth by making your life easier with a long list of DIY projects. Any guilt of constantly leaving you is forgotten when he sees the look in your eyes the first time he took you to the Beauty-and-The-Beast-inspired reading lounge he build out of the guest bedroom no one ever used.
Kyle: Cooking. Especially cooking when you're required to keep a very strict diet due to intolerances and allergies. This man will bend over backwards to find substitutes without losing the original flavor. Man's gonna take as many cooking lessons as he can get his hands on just so he can give you the pleasure of eating your old childhood comfort food again.
Johnny: He jumps at the chance to take care of any children in your family. You don't even have to ask if he can watch your niece so you can have a night out with your sister. At this point, he even gets offended if you think to skip him. That's his job and you better not take it away from him, but don't worry as to why he's always babysitting when he knows you're ovulating. All a coincidence, hen.
Simon: He's so in tune to your needs, it's insane. You've only started to feel a slight pressure in your head and he's already there with pain killers and a cold water bottle. You've had a shit day and you come home to find the comfort food you've been craving hot on the counter. He's gonna use all the observation skills his trauma and service had beaten into him and finally use it for some actual good.
Price who barely says a word, just beelines it to you wherever you're sitting - and if you're not, he drags you to the nearest sitting option - lays his head down on your lap and places your hand on his hat-free head and gives you whatever book is nearest so your voice can lull him back to safety. He won't accept a no or even "just give me five minutes"; he needs you and he needs you now.
Do him a favor and just take him to the nearest couch or bed, he's not 20 anymore, his body won't forgive him another night on his knees just cause you were sitting at the kitchen table.
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