No thoughts just omega!reader getting strong binge urges before a heat.
All those hormones in your body deciding this time, you'll definitely get pupped. Which leads to screaming about putting on weight for the pups you'll surely have.
Pizza, cake, fruits, drinks. It all sounds amazing in your heat-induced hunger. You eat until you're full, then keep eating because your instincts purr at every bite.
Which leads to now. Your stomach uncomfortably full with every move you make, crawling into your nest and clambering atop of gaz. You whine, flop down on top of him with a quiet oof.
"Tummy hurts, baby?" He asks, clearly knowing the answer by the way he smoothes a hand over your bloated stomach. "Not gonna throw up again, are you?"
You groan, cuddle up further for the warmth and partially to spite gaz. He indulgently pushes a soothing scent, something to make you feel safe. Omegas feeling vulnerable after a heat-induced binge could negatively affect health.
Gaz offers you a kiss to the forehead, two large arms wrapped around your torso. He doesn't mention the fact you do this every heat, or that a pup really isn't likely.
Gaz handles you gently, curls into the nest with you and purrs until you're soft and sleeping.
Going absolutely insane off my head about omega!reader and alpha!Gaz and fertility cycles and weird hormonal side effects and how the primal interacts with the rational. If you have ANY ideas to spare about how nearing his rut would affect Gaz, specially regarding his urges to pup you. Rommy you'd just about make me the happiest anon in the world đ
Not really a drabble just me rambling!!
Gaz as an alpha has pretty strong hormonal reactions, mostly due to the stress put on his body from various missions and constant training.
Before his rut gaz gets clingy, like...really clingy. His instincts yelling about keeping his mate safe before giving them pups. It's almost routine when he sits you on the counter in his apartment and cooks or bakes dish after dish to feed you. He likes to be the one to press the food against your lips, feeling like a real alpha when you hum in delight.
He also tends to fatten up a little, packing on energy for when all his time will be dedicated to pupping you. Gaz always has a baggie of snacks before his heat, a fact price and soap take major advantage of.
He also spends half the day hunting you down and thoroughly scenting you, as if any alpha had doubts you were his to begin with....
Your friend turns to look at you in horror when you say it, "cute?! You think captain price is...cute??"
You laugh at her look of horror, nodding between bites of your food. "Yeah! I mean, the whole captain of an elite task force thing is a good cover, but if you look past that he's cute!"
You receive a scrunched up, judgmental look in return, "what, like attractive? Cute as in you want to kiss him??"
"Cute as in I wanna squish his cheeks." You sigh, just thinking about that captain makes you feel all giddy "his cheeks are so round when he smiles, and his mustache makes him look like a cute walrus!"
Before your friend can counter, you're already standing up from your seat, really getting into it. You stand, hands coming up to mimic a phantom-vest "and he does this thing where he holds his vest and rocks heel to toe, heel to toe!! Its so cute!"
You mimic the motion, only stopping when your other friend pulls you back into your seat because people started staring. Still, you tack on with a laugh "I'm serious! Captain price is just so cute! He's like an adorable puppy!"
Across the room, price is staring daggers into your back with a beet red face. He slowly takes his hands off the straps of his vest and stops rocking. Embarrassed and...something else by you calling him cute.
He pointedly ignores the knowing look soap gives him.
Nurse!reader who the 141 are desperate for, losing all thought when they see you. They can hardly focus on whatever stupid lecture you're giving, too busy eyeing you up under scrubs and trying to decide how to corner you afterwards for a drink. Maybe they could share you...
Vs
Nurse!reader who won't touch them or their dicks with a 20ft pole. Why? Because you're currently giving a PSA on sex protection after the entire team tested positive for some form of STD. You've seen their files because you had to know what to cover, and subsequently will never be touching them. Let them and their disease ridden dicks die in a field for all you care, You've got a perfectly fine toy at home.
Your husband, ghost, refuses to sleep in bed with you.
He tried to pretend, for the first few nights together, but you'd always wake up to his side cold and empty. Walking through the dark house wrapped in a blanket only to find ghost sleeping on the couch, or a few times the floor.
Its....it's embarrassing, really. What kind of spouse are you that your own husband can't stand sleeping next to you?
Ghost never talks about it, gets all quiet and huffy when you try to ask. The same exact way he does when he's trying to hold his tongue to avoid an argument. Leaves the room with the kind of silence that saws into your ribs.
"Are you having second thoughts, si?" You ask at the dinner table. The foods a bit burnt, left on burner too long in your mounting anxieties about this whole thing.
Ghost nearly chokes on his food, having to cough into his fist before he looks at you with near-panic "christ, love, what?"
"About us, our marriage." You explain, unable to stop once you've started. You try to temper the hurt in your voice by cutting a bit of carrot into pieces "you refuse to sleep in our bed. Is it....is it because of me?"
There goes being subtle.
Thankfully, ghost sits up ramrod straight as if shocked, voice taking that military-stern undertone he does sometimes. "No. Absolutely not, love. You are the only thing I want in life."
"....then why not sleep next to me?" You bite your lip, knowing ghost is being truthful but still so confused.
Now it's his turn to stare at the food. "It...it feels wrong. The matress." Ghost pauses to scrub an annoyed hand over his non-existent stubble "too damn soft. Reminds me of home."
Oh. Oh, christ. Of course ghost wouldn't be able to sleep like that, reminded of that place.
Now that you have an answer, you refuse to let it continue as a problem.
A bit of online shopping, and fighting with the too-narrow doorways of your house, you have a gift for simon when he's back from a few days on base. You stand proudly in front of what seems to be a normal bed, only to peel back the covers with a flourish.
"Ta-daa!! Your side and my side! I made sure to find the same mattresses used on base," you mentally note to thank kyle later for that. Ghost is dead silent as he takes in the bed, which is really two beds squished directed next to each other. "Do you like it?"
Ghost pulls you into a hug, but you can still tell he's crying by the shake of his chest.
That night, when you reach across the cavern for your simon, scared fingers are waiting to wrap around yours.
the idea of inexperienced!simon literally has me tweaking so hereâs my take
-
Simon was a virgin. A really obvious one, too. The man would start shaking if you so much as brushed his hand with yours when you were walking. His eyes would go wide and it made everyone in his vicinity stop like they were waiting for him to combust. So you, being the deviant you were, make it your lifeâs mission to fuck him. Or at the very least make him cum.
He always calmed down when he drank. Not drunk, but just some liquid courage going through his system. So that was your chance. The team was out for drinks and Simon was just about done with his bourbon when you scoot your stool a bit closer. He glances over and you smile, scooting even closer.
âHi, LT.â
ââŠhi,â he looks away and finishes the last sip, flagging the bartender down for another. He gets his new fill and looks over at you again, blinking. âWhat?â
You shake your head and smile again, just shrugging. âNothinâ. Just feel like talking.â He grunts and clears his throat awkwardly, taking a slow sip. His dark eyes were lingering on you for longer than you ever thought physically possible for him, it was starting to make you nervous. You two get to talking, Simon relaxes more, even chuckling at some joke you made.
Eventually he agrees to go back to the barracks and get into the beers he has hidden in his mini fridge. He was loosened up enough to take his mask off, saying it was getting too warm despite never taking it off even in the desert. Interesting. His cheeks were pink and his pupils blown a bit wide as he prolonged eye contact with you. You could tell he was still nervous being alone with a woman but he was slowly getting there.
Later on, you somehow end up pressed up against his side laughing about something when your hand lands on his thigh and he freezes, every muscle in his body taut. You look at his face and tilt your head, blinking slowly. âYou alright, Si?â
Si. He lets out a rough breath, closing his eyes and clawing at the floor. He nods, eyes opening halfway as he turns and looks at you. âMâpeachy,â he croaks out, shifting his hips awkwardly to try and conceal the growing bulge in his pants. But of course you notice, eyes flicking down and hand sneaking up his thigh.
âThis okay?â You ask, hand creeping higher as you rest your cheek on his shoulder. He doesnât answer verbally but gives a rather sharp nod. He didnât trust himself to speak with your breath tickling his neck the way it was. Your hand stops at the top of his thigh before you pull it away, swinging your leg over him so you were straddling him now. His eyes were the size of dinner plates and his hands, albeit trembling, found a place on your hips. He glances down at your lips but doesnât move a centimeter closer.
You stifle an endearing laugh and kiss him, patient with him as he tries to find his rhythm with you. It takes a minute but he gets it, his body relaxing under you and minuscule thrusts to grind his now painful bulge against you. He groans and bites your lip a little with every movement of your hips until heâs like a bitch in heat, bruising grip on you as he keeps dry humping you and suddenly he takes a sharp inhale and you thought he was gonna start crying given the amount of sounds he made and the volume of them.
âOh- fuckinâ fuck, oh my god,â he mutters into the kiss, eyebrows pinching and relaxing and pinching again before he finally opens his eyes and meets your hazy look with his own. âThink I came in mâpants, love..â
âYou did. Now lay down, I wanna sit on your face.â
Sigh, thinking about being fucked to tears by Simon Riley.
He started off slow and sweet, kissing and licking and nibbling. Tracing his hands up and down your sides, giving gentle squeezes every now and again.
âSo sweet baby. So soft.â
âOh, what a nice sound that was.â
âThere we go. Thereâs my pretty girl.â
âOh, good. Good job baby. Good girl.â
Singing you sweet praises and tugging down your pants. Grinding your hips against his built thigh. Sliding your panties to the side and tracing your clit with a gentle finger. Fingers pressing into your drenched cunt and scissoring you open. Unzipping his jeans and pulling his dick out of his boxer briefs. Helping you sit pretty on his cock.
Then he started thrusting up.
The ribs of his Jacobâs ladder and the friction of his happy trail rubbing against you deliciously. The grip of his warm hands tightening against your hips. His mood turning to bites. Your shirt and bra coming off so those bites can trail down to your breasts.
The tears begin when he presses a finger against your clit.
Youâd already been close, clenching hard on the monster cock bouncing you in his lap. Then his finger pressed hard against your clit and you were wailing. Thick tears bloomed in your eyes as your breathing stifled. He shushed you softly and kissed the tears away.
âCâmon, baby. You can do it.â
âBe a good girl for me. Come. Come on my cock.â
âThere we are, there we go. Me sweet, sweet girl.â
You came hard on his cock. Drenching his jeans. He pumped you through it, kissing you sweetly and wiping away your persistent tears. He pressed you down as he came. Your tummy filling with warmth and belly bulging.
Another sweet kiss, a warm shower and soft towel, and clean sheets. Simon cuddled close and rubbed your back. He whispered sweet praises and pecked all over your face.
Somehow you ended up in a situation where you shared a flat with your lieutenant, Simon Riley. The stoic and hardened Ghost, someone you never imagined yourself getting close to. When he asked if he could stay with you for a while he mentioned something about remodels being done because there was a leak in one of his pipes, which then eventually led to all sorts of problems. You didn't mind one bit, so what better place for him to crash for a few days?
He didn't dare ask Johnny because his ego was too big for that, rooming with Price would just be odd because of his husband and Gaz was out of the picture because he lived off base. You were his only other option even though you werenât that close at the time. You had room and it's not like you were home much anyway.
He set up a small living space in your spare room. It was tiny but it would do. He was a man who didn't need much more than a cup of tea, a place to put his boots and a few books. Sometimes you even forgot he was there because he wasnât on the same schedule as you, he cleaned up after himself and was a naturally quiet person. But when you did cross paths, it was surprisingly comfortable.
It first happened a few days into him staying there, youâd gotten home to the smell of something cooking. Something real. Something that wasnât insistent ramen or microwaved mac nâ cheese. It was odd to come home to someone else in your house but for some reason you didn't mind. You dropped your bag at the door, kicking off your combat boots and padding down the hall to the kitchen. When you rounded the corner you saw him standing at the counter, plating the meal he just made. He was in normal clothes, no combat gear or ghost mask. He was in joggers and a T-shirt with the bold, white letters spelling out RILEY on the back and a simple black balaclava. A contrast to what you know him as.
âHope ya don' t mind me cookinâ somethinâ, I assumed you wouldnât get mad if I did.â When he spoke it drew your attention, making you remember you existed. You blinked over as he continued âStopped by the shops on the way back, thought iâd would be nice to have a good mealâ
âI donât mind at all" you pause, stepping closer "what's mine is yoursâ you say with a soft smile, watching him with a sparkle in your eyes. It looked really fucking good. Who knew Ghost could cook? He glanced over and his features softened ever so slightly, taking you in.
âLet's eat then, yeah?â
So you did. You sat a comfortable distance away from him on the couch, crisscross and you ate the best meal youâd had in months. Maybe this won't be as bad as you thought it would be.
Your phone buzzed, the light from it on the nightstand filling the dark room. It was Price, so you knew you had to pick it up. You didn't even register half of his words before you were up and packing your things at the mention of an emergency mission. He said it was important so you couldn't deny him, it was your job after all.
You weren't prepared but you went anyway, rushing out of the flat quickly and quietly. Though something made you stop dead in your tracks. Simon. Heâd want to know you were leaving, right? Should you call him at work? No..that's definitely crossing a line. Text him? NoâŠno time for that. So..you wrote on a sticky note as quick as your hand let you, scribbling out the words âemergency mission, back in a fewâ then you went out the door.
Simon didn't even end up finding the note till that night after work. He pulled it off the fridge, taking in the information and making a mental note to water your plants for you so they didn't die. He also made a mental note that the note was written on pink hello kitty sticky note paper. He was beginning to think he didn't really know you at all before.
Three days passed before you finally came home. The flat was empty and clean when you walked in. It was peaceful and it was home, and goddamn were you happy to be home. You dropped your bag at the door, dragging your feet through the cold and dim hallway. It was three in the morning so you knew Simon wasn't home, him working night shifts had some benefits. You knew he wouldnât be around to hear your soft whines of pain as you took every step. Everything was sore and aching.
You fell forward, face planting onto the couch, grabbing a pillow to cuddle and falling asleep quicker than you ever had before; one leg halfway off the couch and the other over the arm. You were like an octopus all sprawled out like that. You drifted off, too tired to notice the freshly watered plants on the windowsill or the washed dishes sitting on the dish dryer. He cared and it showed through little things. He was slowly becoming less cold around you, though he would never admit to such things.
When Simon came home he nearly lost his life by accidentally tripping over your bag in front of the door, thankfully catching himself on the hall table before it was too late. When he got into the living room, watching his step this time, he turned on the small lamp. The light faintly covered the room, drowning the space in warm light. Immediately he noticed your body on the couch, passed out cold. Sprawled out, boots still on, hair tied back and uniform still on. You looked like you walked through the door and instantly fell asleepâŠwhichâŠyou kinda did..
He fought with himself for a moment, trying to decide if he should do something or just leave you there. After going back and forth for a solid minute and a half he set his bag down gently on the hardwood floor, making his way over to you with surprisingly soft footsteps. He took his time gently untying your boots and slipping them off your feet, making sure not to wake you. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over your sleeping form. He smiled tenderly to himself, taking in your agape mouth and closed eyes.
âAbsolutely bloody exhaustedâ he murmured to himself, grabbing his bag and turning off the light. He slipped into his room like nothing happened.
Needless to say when you woke up the next morning you were indeed confused about what happened, but you never brought it up again.
you never understood why men insisted on emptying every last thing from their pockets before taking their trousers off. such a waste of time when youâre spread out on the bed looking so sweet for whoever it is you took home.
typically keys, wallet, maybe some gum, pocket knife, whatever. never a condom, funnily enough.
simon riley has so many stupid pockets on those stupid cargos of his.
chapstick (shocking considering the state of his lips), at least two lighters, a pen, flip phone, wallet, money clip. seriously who needs a wallet and a money clip.
safe to say the process is going on longer than usual.
you tip your head back in frustration, getting wetter and more impatient by the second. you hear it before you see it. the clicking of his gun being set on your dresser.
you look at him, watching his fingertips leave the sleek metal. it looks like it would feel cold on your skin. whatever. no big deal. itâs just this big, giant man, trusting you enough to leave his military issued firearm unattended on your dresser while he fucks you.
youâre not really sure why this is really getting you going. itâs the complete opposite of the time that one guy pulled his mango strawberry vape out of his pocket and you sent him home immediately. total opposite.
whatâs really crazy is you never see another man other than simon riley after that night.
A/N- this can be found in the lace curtains corner of my shop!
Domesticated! Simon ghost Riley trying to give his pretty lil wife a break while theyâre kid-free
Cws: suggestive content, sexual themes, established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, teasing, pet names, morning intimacy, power imbalance (light)
Unlike most mornings, you wake up without your toddlers using you as a pillow, one clinging to your leg and the other on your chest. Instead, the bed is cold, and you have no extra limbs attached to you, not even Simon.
You groan, adjusting to the light filtering through the windows. You sat up, sliding your slippers on, and padded down the hallway into the kitchen, where you saw Simon shirtless, making coffee. You can tell by the two plates on the counter that he's already made breakfast and fed Melanie and Isabel.
You scan the room for the twins, which you fail to spot, just as you go to ask Simon, he turns around.
ââHey, lovie, how long yâbeen there?â
You smile a little just seeing him made you feel a little better. The way he looked at you was like you were his entire world.
âMh, not that long. Where are the twins?â
You asked him, your head tilting in confusion. The evidence was there, the scattered toys and random socks, but no twins in sight.
âMy mumâs outside with them getting eggs from the coop, then theyâre gonna head oâhersââ
You nod slightly, confused about why she was taking the kids. You werenât going to complain. You just assumed Simon had a lot of chores for you guys to completeâbeing kid-free made sense.
Simon could see the confusion on your face. He took pleasure in it, knowing that it took you a while to process things. It reminded him of how quickly he could reduce you to a crying mess, which was exactly what he planned to do today.
You thought nothing of the way Simon was smirking at you, being used to him being a tad bit obsessed and thought he was just admiring his wifey. Making your way to the sink full of dishes, you start to wash them when you feel Simon come behind you, his hands on your waist.
âcmon dove, why do ya think I sent the kids away? hm?â
It still hasnât clicked to you. You look up, gazing through the window above the sink as the morning sun pours in, golden and warm. The sunlight spills across your skin, highlighting the soft curls that frame your face. For a moment, you look out onto the farm, and there are some odds and ins that Simon has spoken about wanting to get done. What better day to do it without the kids in the way, right?
âHm.? I dunno, I thought you wanted to get stuff done without them.â
You turned around to face him, blinking up at him. You tilt your head as if to ask, âWhat else did you mean?â
Sure, you could be a little ditzy, but not this slow, right? He pulled you closer, without breaking eye contact, knowing what it did to you. You try to look away, your face flushing in embarrassment. He grabs your chin, pulling your gaze back to him. You finally meet his gaze.
âThere's chores to d-â
You tried to protest, the heat rushing to your face once it finally clicked to you
âNah-uhâ Simon is already lifting you up and onto the counter before you could react or argue any further.
âBut sii!â you pouted but he wasnât trying to hear it already pushing your nightgown up and pulling your panties to the side, and once he felt how soaked you were he looked up at you with pity on his face.
âAwhh look dove, youâre so wet already. Stop fighting, just let me take care of you kay?â
A/n: okayyyy so Iâm going to be so honest guys, Iâve never written smutđ„Č okay I said it. Buttt let me know if I should like keep this as a series and like try to continue it or if I should leave it at this..alsooo! I would love to get anons and stuff from u guys and what should I call u guys like u need a name!
at least i think it counts as a one shot it's like nearly 1.4k words đ
18+ MDNI !!!
cw: none? it's specified that reader wears glasses & has shit vision lol. (this was VERY self-indulgent)
Thinking about Gaz seeing you in your glasses for the first time....
You and Kyle have been dating for a while now, about seven months give or take, and you can confidently say you've gotten comfortable with each other.
He's seen you drool in your sleep. You held his hand when he drank too much and got sick. He's seen you in mustard stained sweatpants. The one thing you've been avoiding though is letting him see you in your glasses.
It's not that he doesn't know you need them. He's aware you have shitty vision and prefer your contacts. You just haven't told him why you prefer contacts.
It wasn't always a thing, really. You used to love your glasses! Then you tried contacts for that one formal event and realized how much better you look without the frames taking over your face. You actually think glasses are cute, really, just not on you. Thus, you avoid them at all costs.
Unfortunately for you though, your normal brand is on back order and won't be here for another week. Which is why here you are curled on the couch with your boyfriend, painfully aware of how he keeps staring at your face.
"You can just say they're ugly, babe, trust me I already know." You attempt to turn it into a joke only for Kyle to look at you confused.
He just stares at you for a moment, blinking slowly. "I'm sorry, love, what the bloody hell are you talking about?" he says, bewilderment clear in his tone.
You roll your eyes. "My glasses. You've been staring at them all night. I know they're ugly, I'll be back to wearing my contacts soon, I promise."
Silence fills the room. He pulls away from you and tilts his head, his deep brown eyes searching your face. "You're taking the piss, yeah?"
Does he have to be so British? You think to yourself. "No, Kyle, I'm not taking the piss," you poorly imitate your accent. "I'm just sayi-"
"Petal. The reason I keep staring at your glasses is because all I can think right about now is how fucking sexy it'd look to see them covered in my cum." He confesses.
He grabs your hand and rests it over the crotch of his pants. You can feel how hard he is through the denim material. Now that you pay attention you can see the wet spot on his jeans where his tip sits- your thighs clench at the sight.
"You're beautiful love, always, but seeing you in your glasses? I'm almost pissed you kept this sight from me," he pulls you into his lap wrapping an arm around your waist. His other hand gently cusps your jaw.
"But they look so awkward on me? Like, they just make me look so.... ugly." you say it as if it's a fact because in your head it is. He pulls you into a soft kiss and you can taste the cherry chapstick on his lips.
"You could never look ugly- not to me. I think you look adorable, makes me wanna fucking ruin you, love."
This time it's you crashing your lips together as your hips grind against his. He lets out a hiss at the contact, his hands grabbing your waist. He bucks into you desperate for more contact.
A string of spit falls on your cheek when you finally pull away from him. You slowly move off his lap and sink onto your knees. As the carpet digs into your knees you're sure you'll have bruises tomorrow. "No, love, want this to be about you-"
"What I want is for you to cum on my face," you interrupted. "You painted such a pretty picture earlier, baby, wanna see it in reality. Please?"
He lets out a needy groan at your words. "Fuck, yes love, 'd do anything you want." he whines- a true sentiment, though.
You don't hesitate to unzip his jeans, leaning back as he quickly shuffles them off along with his boxers. The second he's back on the couch you've wrapped your hand around his hard cock.
He gasps when you suddenly wrap your lips around his leaking tip. You slowly stroke him at the base as you flick your tongue over his slit. You rest a hand on his thigh as you continue to lick and stroke. The moans he lets out makes your cunt ache.
"Please, love, need more-" he lets out an almost pathetic whine when you remove your hand. You slowly push your head further and further down his length until your nose is tickling against the hairs at his base.
You glance up at him through your glasses, the lens just slightly foggy. He brings a hand to rest on the back of your neck. "So stunning, my pretty girl, yeah?" he whispers as you bob your head up and down. You take a deep breath through your nose reaching to cusp his balls in your hand.
"Fuck," he moans. His thighs twitch and you can tell he's fighting the urge to give in and fuck your mouth. You gently move his hand from the back of your neck to the top of your head.
He glances down at you, "You sure, love?" You tap once, a signal you'd both agreed was a yes, and that's all it takes for him to lose his composure.
He's roughly shoving you down to his pubes and pulling you back to the tip. The fast pace makes you gag a little and you have to remind yourself to take deep breaths. You place your hands on his thighs to help ground yourself. Your mind always goes to a floaty, far off space, when heâs in your throat.
You're sure the underwear youâre wearing is ruined from how wet youâve gotten. âSo close,â his voice comes out raspy. He pushes in and out your throat a few more times before pulling out completely. You gasp for air feeling a string of drool fall on your lips.
His throbbing cock is leaking at the tip and covered in your spit. You quickly wrap your hand around it squeezing and twisting as you fist his cock. It doesnât take long before he comes with a groan thatâs supposed to be your name but comes out strangled and slurred.
Youâve seen Kyle cum many times and the sight gets better and better each time. His head always falls back. His pretty brown eyes flutter as he tries his best to keep looking at you. You instinctively shut your eyes, as you feel it splash on your face. âHell, love, please let me take a picture, yâneed to see yourself like thisâŠâ
After giving him an excited nod you can hear him shuffle to grab his phone. You place your hands in your lap and hope youâre looking in the right direction. As soon as you hear the soft click you open your eyes.
The majority of his cum ended up on your glasses, but what didnât is close enough to your lips you can lick it off. âYouâre killing me, sweetheart,â he chuckles, leaning down to take off your glasses. He must have grabbed a wet rag when he grabbed his phone because heâs gently wiping whatâs left on your face.
He shoves his boxers back on before pulling you into his lap. He grabs his phone and despite how close he holds it to your face you still squint a little.
The image is slightly blurry. You can tell he took the picture with one hand. Youâre kneeling and your frames are slightly crooked making you look even more blissed out. That combined with seeing his cum marking your face has you biting your lip. âYou were right baby, that is hot as hell.â
His eyes light up with joy, âDoes that mean if I clean them right now youâll wear them while I eat you out?â
You give a soft laugh and nod, unable to form a real sentence. He places a quick kiss on your forehead and moves you off his lap. You continue to laugh as he grabs your glasses and practically bolts to the bathroom.
Yeah. You'll definitely be wearing the glasses more often, you decide.
Youâre a bartender at the pub a few miles from the army base. The 141, as youâve learned from whispers and rumors, were frequent visitors. Four men would show up, order beers and bourbon, and crowd around a booth. They were all polite and sweet, using âpleaseâs and âthank youâs often, and left HUGE tips. Hundreds of dollars for a $150 tab. And they came in at least once a month. Safe to say, your rent was always paid thanks to them.
One of them, Gaz or Kyle as heâd introduced himself formally, was always a little extra sweet.
Heâd always linger after ordering to lean in close and compliment you or chat about new bottles. He had the most gorgeous smile and sparkling eyes. Youâd be lying if you werenât a little obsessed.
Tonight was just like any other. You parked behind the bar, clocked in, and started pouring. It was a slower night, a Wednesday, with a crowd of regulars and a couple new faces. Summer was always a little more busy because of tourists, but Wednesdays were always the most relaxed no matter the season.
Around ten oâclock, the 141 walked in.
John led with Johnny and Simon attached at the hip behind him and Kyle at the back. They beelined to the bar to start a tab of their usuals, and as always, Kyle stayed after the others went to their table.
âLookinâ extra pretty tonight, love.â He teased as he took a seat and leaned on his elbows over the bar top.
âCould say the same about you, Ky.â You replied with a charmed smile as you poured drinks. He looked at you through his unfairly long lashes and chuckled bashfully.
âAw, what a charmer Iâve got here.â He smiled. âHowâve you been since I saw you last, love?â
âNot too shabby.â You answered softly, finishing the scotches and moving to pour the beers.
âGood. Donât want my favorite bartender stressed while Iâm away.â He chuckled.
Your face heated as you finished pouring and put the glasses on a tray. âReady to head to the table?â
âYep!â He hopped off the stool and followed you to the booth the others had settled in at. Kyle sat down and helped you pass out the drinks. You took Johnâs card when he offered under the table and walked back to the bar with your tray before an argument over who was paying could break out. You filed the card and started their tab.
You tended to patrons and made a few drinks before Kyle came back. He took up the same seat as before and watched you with a slight smile as you walked over.
âCan I get you anything?â You asked, leaning against the bar.
âUh, maybe. Depends.â He replied slyly.
âDepends on what?â You hesitantly questioned.
His expression broke and he sighed heavily. âI canât ask like that, Iâm sorry. Johnny tried giving me tips but that bastard hasnât picked up a bird in months.â He took a deep breath and looked back up at you. âCan I please take you on a date soon?â
Your face heated in a flash. âUm, yeah?â You answered, shocked by his forwardness.
âLove, please donât feel pressured to say yes. Iâll be just fine to continue making you smile and being a friend.â He asked, seemingly nervous.
You glanced at the bar top and took a deep breath to collect your thoughts. When you looked back up at him, you smiled softly. âYes, Ky.â
âReally? When are you free? Iâm on leave for the next week.â He smiled brightly.
âHow about tomorrow? For lunch somewhere around here?â You offered.
âSounds great! Thank you, love.â He leaned over the bar and kissed your cheek. He pulled back and scribbled his number on a napkin. âText me later.â He said before heading back to the table, leaving you standing there in shock.
Angel Note: this is so dookie but whatever. please give me inspo darlings
Retired!John Price is a family man,  the designated driver for his children, but being at the beginning of the school break there wasn't much to do.
He had just arranged the new, larger sofa his missus had bought in the living room. She had given him some instructions before leaving, and he had followed them all. It was perfect, so now he was going to take a nap, a well-deserved rest for his aching muscles and joints.
And that's what I was trying to do, lying face down. Until he felt it, a fixed gaze a few centimeters from his face and a breath very close to his own nose, he only opened one eye lazily to see his toddler there.
âYou need something, princess?â
The little girl, with the pacifier she should have given up long ago but that she still uses for her naps and the blanket that was her object of attachment, simply climbed onto the sofa and onto John's back. He grumbled softly about the weight on his back, but it was honestly comfortable once she was fully settled.
He didn't sleep for more than half an hour before he felt someone trying to push him aside and he groaned in his sleep before opening only one eye, tired and lazy.
âMake room for me, Paâ whispered his other princess, the teenager and he moved carefully to let her settle on the edge of the sofa, under his arm, careful not to wake the toddler on his back and went back to sleep.
It was only half an hour more before he felt another weight on his other side and back, he lifted his head to look and it was his son, the eldest, who had removed the cushions from sofa and he slid to John's side and back.
âGo to sleepâ his son whispered to John, and if he werenât so tired (and trapped between his three children) he would have told him that it was difficult to sleep when you are being crushed by three other human beings, but he went back to sleep anyway.
By the afternoon, when you returned from your swimming club, that was the first thing you saw: practically a pile of puppies on top of your husband. Your eldest son was pressed against the back of the sofa half his body is on top of John, and he's hugging the toddler who's on John's back. You second daughter's legs are tangled in one of John's, holding on like a monkey to a tree, but with John's arm as her pillow.
After taking a picture for your new wallpaper, John's eyes opened and obviously he hadn't been sound asleep for very long, but he had remained in that position.
â"Do you need help?" You asked with a smile, curing the corners of your mouth, because John would surely complain later of back pain, and probably several of his limbs were numb by now.
âNah, let 'em sleepâ
And you shook your head, slightly amused because that's how John was; the once fearsome soldier was now just a father at the mercy of his three children, and if being their living pillow was his destiny today, he was going to accept it. And when you settled into the space between John's legs, resting your head on your eldest son leg, he knew this was exactly how he had wanted to spend his retirement.
The first thing people noticed about Captain Price was how steady he wasâunshakable, rough around the edges, the kind of man who carried storms in his voice and calm in his decisions.
But at home, none of that mattered.
At home, he was soft.
Heâd come through the door late, boots heavy against the floor, the scent of smoke and cold air still clinging to him. And without fail, his shoulders would drop the second he saw her, like the world had finally loosened its grip.
âYouâre up,â heâd murmur, voice quieter than anyone else ever got to hear.
She always was.
Waiting on the couch, blanket draped over her legs, something warm in her hands, tea gone half-cold because sheâd been too busy listening for the door. Sheâd smile, sleepy and gentle, and that was it. That was all it took.
Price, the man who faced down chaos without blinking, would melt.
Heâd cross the room in a few long steps, crouch in front of her, and rest his forehead against hers for just a moment. No words. Just breathing her in, grounding himself in something real, something safe.
âYou alright?â sheâd ask, brushing her fingers through his hair, softer than the world ever allowed itself to be with him.
âBetter now,â heâd answer every time.
Later, when the house was quiet and the world felt far away, heâd lie beside her, one arm wrapped firmly around her waist like he needed to make sure she was still there. His thumb would trace absent patterns against her skin, slow and careful, like memorizing her.
He wasnât a man of many gentle habits, but with her, he learned.
He learned to linger in the kitchen just to steal a kiss.
To press his lips to her temple when she passed by.
To listen to the small, ordinary details of her day like they were the most important intel heâd ever received.
And sometimes, when sleep refused to come and old memories pressed too close, heâd pull her closer without a word. She never asked. Just tucked herself into him, hand over his heart, steady and warm.
Grounding him again.
In those quiet moments, Captain Price didnât exist.
Just a man, tired and human, holding the one thing in his life that made everything else worth it.
