This Is John Price Vibes When He Gets Home From Deployment Argue With Ur Mum

this is john price vibes when he gets home from deployment argue with ur mum

The kinds of chest-laying you’d do with each of the 141

Gaz: laying in the dappled shade of a tree after a lovely picnic, a warm breeze ruffling your hair, your ear is pressed right to his heart

Ghost: clinging to him in the afterglow of lovemaking, worn out but so happy to be snuggling with the love of your life, idly kissing his scars

Soap: on the couch, watching a cool new movie with half a dozen snacks scattered about for both of you, his head is on the arm of the couch and he plays with your hair while shoveling popcorn in his mouth

Price: napping in his lap while he reads in front of the fireplace, swaddled in a nice quilt and pressed close to him as he hums you to sleep

I need to sleep on a larger man’s chest Immediately

not to be dramatic but I need the price one or I'll die

141 twt links :)

MDNI 18+ Under the cut!!

24 links, lmk if there's a problem with them/a repeat, and I'll fix it :))

✰ SIMON RILEY ↷

Shower.

Rough !!

Taking care of his sweet baby.

Fill you nicely <3

Simon's obsession !!

Missing you while deployed :(

✰ JOHN PRICE ↷

John's obsession <3

His favorite way to relax after a hard day !!

Back pain? Never heard of her.

Lover boy :(

Missed these pretty tits.

All he can think about.

✰ JOHNNY MACTAVISH ↷

His pretty kitty !!

Can't even wait to get home.

Ride him all night.

Vocal !!

Mindless <3

Johnny's obsession.

✰ KYLE GARRICK ↷

Fuck you stupid.

Take it like a champ !!

Kyle's obsession <3

Fold you and watch you take it.

His favorite way to unwind.

Treat her well.

(afab!reader, minors dni 18+)

the cod men + pantyjobs: a twt p link collection ;P

soap starts off by rubbing the head of his dick over your slit. it's wet and sticking to you from the grinding of his leaky tip against your sopping pussy, makes it absolutely perfect for him to see the outline of your clit while he works you over. he gets impatient tho. impatient enough that he needs to feel your pussy on him. yanks the cloth to the side so he can have access to your bare cunt. but still holding that barest bit of control that he won't fuck you. yet. maybe he'll tease you a bit. he's a dog of a man, after all. dips in just the tip so quickly it surprises you. but the stretch of his fat cockhead makes you churning for more. he loves to feel the damp material of your underwear against his fingers while he fucks you with just the tip and thumbs at your clit. uses your panties like a handle to pull you forward so bit by bit he can slip in deeper.

i just know gaz is is nasty about it, disgusting, but somehow still so romantic. you can't help but look at him with heart eyes when he's cum all over your underwear and pulls it aside so he can smear it all over your clit. uses his dick to do so, just in case he can add a little more to that pretty pussy ;) the way his tip keeps catching under the hood of your clit and wiping his seed all around leaves you throbbing and crying out for him. oh, baby. he knows, he knows. makes sure to collect the cum onto his dick and fucks the cum into you, as deep as he can go. the stretch of his dick and the burn of the tug of your underwear stings so good. pumps you full of all the cum you want and pushes your panties back over you with a loving pat to your pussy so you can keep it all in there. your panties were already ruined from before if not already. he'll buy you more just to cum in them later.

price fucks your underwear as if it's your pussy. uses it more as punishment than anything else. you don't deserve his dick just yet. so he just grinds the underside of that pretty cock over your pussylips and stains the front of your panties with a nice wet spot. leaves you gasping and whining because it's not enough. he'll scoff at you because when was his dick never enough? you don't want it then? he threatens to leave you high and dry but the humping off your hips is just too tempting for him. he'll keep rutting his cock over your covered cunt before dipping it back under so he can feel the spread of your lips under the heaviness of his cock. becomes obsessed with your whiny sounds and pathetic expressions that it ends up getting him off. cums all over your mound and falls in love at the way your panties prevent his dick from twitching so much. needs to go again, has to go again. not even for punishment this time. sorry, darling. you're in for a long one.

this is more so you staking your claim on him. and ghost would absolutely love to oblige when you throw your panties over his dick before riding him. "your dick," he grins when he can feel the way the crotch of your panties rub at his balls and smearing your slick all over them (he'd worked you well over before). "my pussy." he accentuates that with a mean thrust so that you can feel the rough grind of your panties back against you. holds you in place so he can fuck you. he probably brings a hand down there to squeeze the base of his dick and stroke it with your underwear. loves the feeling of jerking off into your panties and does it in a way that you're sure it's happened before. but you just can't keep your eyes off how he wears your panties over his dick like a fucking trophy and really proves to you how much you own that dick of his.

living with alex keller means that eventually you've come to expect interruptions with work because he can't keep his hands off you... or out of your pants. starts teasing you and kissing at your neck while rubbing you over the crotch of your pants, then slowly trails his fingers under your waistband to give it to you where you really want it. the twisting of his wrist to finger your slit over your panties gets you worked up really quickly, to a point that you're clawing at his arms to get him to do something, do anything. but he's so content on teasing you that you have to take matters into your own hands. you have to flip him over and sit over his cock to grind down on it, give him a little payback because he loves your panties so much why not keep both of yours on? act like you're riding his cock as you grind down on him and listen to his grunts turn into near whimpers when your clit rubs against his balls. his cock stands tall in his own boxers and he's begging you to just ride him properly. but this feels so good, so much that you don't realize he's cumming and making a mess of himself hehe.

oh but alejandro loooves to watch you bounce your ass against him. you were in such a hurry to grind on him and show him how much you wanted him to fuck you that you didn't bother undressing all the way. alejandro is nothing but a tease. slips his dick under your panties and lets you grind against his dick like you've been wanting to. his balls slap against your clit when you move your hips back and he has a tight grip on your thigh at the hot sight of you so desperate. to be honest, nothing strokes his ego (more than your hands or ass) than seeing the huge dickprint he leaves in your underwear. it gets him going especially when the material gets sheer and he can see what color his tip is through your panties. wonders if he can still see it when his cum leaks through the material and paints it a creamy white instead.

rudy is so considerate about it. knows what your pussy wants before you do, but knows he needs to set the mood for you. rubs large, warm fingers over your folds and lets you grind against his palm at your own pace. all the while one hand slips under your shirt to pinch at your nipples and you rub your clit over the pads of his fingers. he feels you getting wetter and wetter, making sure to collect your slick and try to rub it upwards so there's less rough friction. but soon your wet panties become more and more of a nuisance so he moves them to the side to finger you properly. rubs at that clit in a way that has your hips twitching because all of a sudden it's too much. your barrier of protection that was the flimsy cloth of your underwear is gone and you're at the mercy of his fingers sinking into your pussy to stretch you out nice and good for his cock.

graves merely watches as you give him both a pantyjob and a thighjob all in one. loves to feel the burn of the crotch of your panties against his veiny cock, loves to see how his cock disappears between plush thighs, loves to see that ass bouncing up and down on him. he can feel that pussy throbbing against him and in turn his dick twitches back because fuck what a sight you are. it was your idea to treat him like this, have the power of still being dressed while he's fully naked and dick standing at attention for you. makes you feel even hotter when he lands a hand onto your ass and squeezes tight because he's going to cum soon. can't bring himself to get you to stop. he can feel you soaking through the crotch of your panties and glide against him in smoother ruts. i dunno if he's cum as hard as he does as ropes of white shoot high into the air and splatter against your ass and thighs. you want to feel it so bad against your pussy so you make sure to milk him of all he's worth and coax his cum to stain your panties and get you wetter than before.

könig doesn't want to bother you, doesn't think that the heaviness of his balls or achy, leaky, angry red dick is enough to get your attention. but he thinks you must be the same, right! so he just has to take care of you if that's the case. gets on his hand and knees and starts nudging his face between your legs. his tongue starts to scrape against your folds that you look over at him to tell him off. you have to stop yourself because the fact that he's able to feel your clit on his tongue through your panties brings him near tears of relief and you pity him so much that you let him continue. he has all the power to move your panties to the side, and he does a couple times to get a taste every now and then, but for some reason he loves the rough feeling of cloth against his tongue. lets it soak up all his spit and your own juices. in fact, holds it in place while he tongues at your pussy and his knuckles sometimes rubbing against your slit as he moans out at the taste of your damp panties.

do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)

Quiet Confidence || One Night Stand!Gaz

Rating: E Words: 2.7K~ Pairing: ONS!Gaz x ONS!F!Reader CW: smut, cunnilungus, protected sex (implied), piv (implied), nudity. tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, one night stand, reader and kyle are both confident, kyle garrick is a munch, morning after talks. a/n: the gifs used do NOT reflect the reader's skin tone of physical appearance. / the original poster of the gifs below is @unstablecryptid but I could *not* get the gif search bar to fucking show me the gifs of elliot knight.

In all the units he's been in, be it the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment, or when he joined the SAS, or when he was doing resistance to interrogation training with the Marines, or, now, in the 141, one thing's for certain: Gaz is the worst person to have as a wingman.

Not because he doesn't know what he's doing. No, Kyle absolutely knows what he's doing. The issue is precisely that. He's a handsome lad with a playful demeanor and natural charisma. He fails at getting his mates a girl because the girl ends up wanting him.

And so no one asks for his help any more... and he stopped offering too.

But that doesn't mean that he stopped trying to get girls for himself.

Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz sit around a table in the corner of the packed pub, chatting amidst themselves.

It's become somewhat of a routine, before they all ship back home: they get together at a bar or pub, huddle around a table and each of them pays for a round of drinks before they part ways.

It's, in a way, a moment to decompress, unwind, and clear their heads, while also allowing them to be amidst civilians for a moment and 'turn off' the soldier mentality before they go home to see family (or whatever Ghost does).

It's always the same routine. Ghost pays the first round. Stops at the bar while the lads locate a table (or at least a wall to lean on), then marches back with four pints balanced perfectly on stiff arms. He's clinical, methodical. In, out. Goes to the bar, comes back.

Soap gets the next one. Goes to the bar, swaggering past the other patrons, shooting coy looks and little smirks at the women (and men) that catch his eye. Leans against the bar and takes his sweet. fucking. time. Spends longer chatting up the other people waiting for drinks and even the bartender than actually ordering and waiting. Then, he swaggers back. Sometimes empty-handed, sometimes with a number/username or two on his phone.

Price gets the next one. Just like Simon, he doesn't meander. He goes up to the bar, places his order, pays, and leans on his forearms while he waits. If he sees a pretty woman, he might side up to her and exchange a couple words. It rarely goes anywhere. But he doesn't seem to do it for the same reason Johnny (and Kyle) do. Mostly just to pass the time.

Kyle doesn't even put in effort at this point. And he's not even bragging when he says that. More often than not, when he's at the pub with his team, he's not there to look for a bird to spend the night with, he's there to say farewell before they go on leave. And yet, there's something about Kyle that makes women flock to him.

He finds himself being approached as he leans on the bar, eyes fluttering around the room, taking in the bottle and glasses on display behind the bartender, the patrons, the TV showing a football game high on the wall... And without fail a pretty woman will side up to him and try to make a move, give him her number...

Kyle would blame it on the fact he has a 'pretty face' as one of his ex-girlfriends would say, or maybe his shower routine, the fact he actually makes an effort to look and smell good, because it makes him feel good... But as one of his one night stands in the past year made a point to point out to him, he, allegedly, exudes a 'quiet confidence' about him.

Regardless of the cause, Kyle always returns to the table with hands overflowing with drink/pint glasses and his phone holding a handful of new numbers or instagram/snapchat handles... ones he does not plan on contacting.

-

You're sitting across the pub from the 4 men in the corner booth. They're in regular clothes but, from the way they sit and act, you can tell they're soldiers from the base a few kilometers away.

Your eyes keep finding their way to the pretty, dark skinned bloke that sits on the edge, his left side turned toward you, his lips pursed as him and his friends discuss whatever it is that soldiers do when they come to a pub. Probably sports.

"You know if you keep staring at him like that, you'll probably burn a hole through him." Your friend quips beside you, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes.

"And what do you suggest I do instead? Just walk up to that Adonis and go 'Hey, handsome, wanna get out of here?' in front of his mates?" You retort with a cocked brow.

"Yeah? You've done worse than that." She tells you. You go quiet again, your gaze returning to the handsome lad.

He sits with his back against the leather back of the booth, shifting his weight around on his ass and sliding down the seat a bit, legs spread apart, one foot kicked up and off the cover of the table, more so in the way, to potentially trip someone.

Your friend is right, of course, you've done worse than go up to a pretty man and ask him to go home with you. In fact, you've done much more nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing things... But that bloke is easily one of the calmest and most confident ones you've seen in a while, not to mention he's not alone...

Pondering for a moment, you decide to just go for it. You finish the rest of your drink first and get up, walking over to his table, your mind already conjuring the perfect string of words to say in order to get him to come home with you. Hell, you don't normally have any trouble charming lads either.

You stop in front of the table and all four sets of eyes turn to look at him, one of them behind a balaclava, directly across from the man you want to speak to. You had nearly missed that one in the shadows of the pub.

Looking directly into the eyes of your target for the night, you feel the words you had kind of come up with escape you, as well as your last working neuron, and you find yourself feeling a bit flustered under his scrutinizing gaze.

He has the prettiest brown eyes you've ever seen, which stare up at you like a baby cow, eyebrows knit, wide and inviting and warm...

Taking a deep breath, you simply reach your hand forward, palm facing up and you wait, eyes locked on the beautiful man sitting on the booth before you.

His eyes flutter down to your hand and then back up at your face, an eyebrow scaling up in intrigue and confusion, but he lays his left hand atop yours, his warm, calloused palm against your own. No wedding ring. Good enough.

You nod at him and turn away again, pulling him along as you begin to step away from his table. The lad's head immediately shakes, looking around at you, and at his mates, in confusion, but he has no choice but to follow you.

He stands and shoots his friends a confused but amused look, smirking a bit at your mere audacity. You can hear one of them make some comment behind your back as you drag the pretty boy away, but you don't catch it between his thick accent and the music and chatter inside the pub.

-

You made it from the bar to your elevator and to your door in near complete silence, no small talk other than to exchange names and ask about protection, no hesitation.

Getting lowered onto your bed, Kyle's lips were mashed against yours, his arms caging you in, his long, nimble fingers gripping onto the back of your head and nape.

Your legs spread to either side of his hip, your feet plant themselves on the bed, your knees squeezing lightly around his hip over the fabric of his black boxer briefs.

Kyle ruts his clothed bulge against your core, humming under his breath, the sounds he makes dying against your lips.

Your hands slide down from around the back of his neck over his pecs and down his abs, feeling how hard and defined he is. "Mmmm..." You purred as your nails gently slid down his dark skin.

"You like my muscles, hm?" He murmurs after breaking the kiss, diving in to kiss down your jaw and neck, then over your collarbone and onto the swell of your breasts in your bra.

"Maybe." You reply, which causes a rumble of a laugh to escape him, his hands pulling you up and off the mattress so he can undo the back clasp of the bra, before slipping the straps off your shoulders, and throwing the garment aside.

"Maybe, eh?" Kyle teases and leans up close, his large hands cupping the flesh of your breasts, squeezing them them together while his thumbs glide over your pert nipples, rubbing them in circles.

"Mmmm... Maybe." You agree with a chuckle of your own, a hum of appreciation falling through your lips from his touch, at the same time as you grind your clothed cunt against the bulge in his underwear.

The man above you smirks at you, letting you continue to grind yourself against him, while his head dips down to catch one of your nipples between his lips, giving it a slow lick and a greedy suck, his fingers still squeezing the flesh of your tits around them.

After a moment of giving them some attention, his mouth glides down your stomach and over the mound of your pelvis, toward your pussy, his body leaving the bed and kneeling on the floor in front of it, his face lining up between your thighs.

His fingers run over your slit, the man purring at the feeling of the soaked patch you wore into the fabric, before hooking a finger around the side of the gusset, pulling the fabric aside.

Kyle's face leans up close and he wastes no time attaching his plump lips to your wet cunny, his tongue seeking out and finding your clit after letting go of your underwear and spreading your folds with his fingers.

His nose buries itself on your mons and your legs twitch slightly as he gives your clit the attention it deserves, licking and sucking the sensitive bud, pulling it behind his teeth with greedy sucks, the obscenely wet sounds of his sucking filling the room and making you, somehow, whine more than the actual feeling itself.

"K-Kyle-" You whine as your hand finds his head, your legs trembling on either side of him, twitching against either side of his head and squeezing against his ears, like you're desperate to close them.

Kyle's big brown eyes look up at you with a spark of mischief and he grabs both your thighs with his large hands, forcing them open again and holding them against the mattress, leaving you splayed on the bed as his tongue laps furiously at your clitoris.

"I know... I know..." He coos at you as you whine and tremble, your hip bucking a bit as you both seek more of his pleasure and less of it, feeling your climax rearing its head over the horizon as Kyle sends you barreling toward it with just the feeling of his tongue.

Then, his fingers join in, two of them, carefully plunging inside your leaking hole, moving slowly and deeply, curling up to find your G-spot, his lips once more making the most obscene of sucking sounds as he eats you out like a man starved.

You whine and your head falls back, your body thrashing atop your bed covers as you climax, leaking your juices over his long digits and pushing his head away from you, your clitoris overstimulated and feeling raw.

You struggle to catch your breath, feeling hot and covered in sweat, the man kneeling at the foot of your bed looking at you with his pretty brown eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Don't look at me like that!" You complain, feeling flushed, both from embarrassment and from the recent climax.

"Like what, sweet thing?" He asks you, raising his brows and lifting himself off the floor, crawling back atop you, and settling his hip between your parted legs.

"All cocky and smug-like." You retort, hearing him chuckle again.

"Not smug at all, poppet." He tells you in earnest before leaning down and kissing you slowly again. "Just happy I made you feel good. You used to blokes who don't make you cum, hm?" He asks you.

"No, they make me cum." You reply, and, truly, you're saying the truth. But this feels different either way.

"Good, then," Kyle adds and smirks, rolling your hip and legs to the side, his fingers hooking over the edge of the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your thighs. "'cause I plan on making you cum on my cock next."

-

The next morning, you wake up past 11 a.m., bleary-eyed.

You rub your eyes, yawn and stretch along the bed, your arm hitting a warm and hard body beside you.

"Morning to you too, poppet." Kyle's voice murmurs from beside you, causing you to turn to look at him.

You lock eyes with his ass, first and foremost, your eyes widening for just a second.

Kyle's lying on his stomach, his elbows propping him halfway up on the pillow as he scrolls through his feed on some social media.

"Hi..." You murmur and chuckle softly. "You know, most lads would've left by now, hm?" You quip.

The man next to you hums and chuckles before shrugging. "Most lads aren't me." He says simply.

Looking toward you, you can't help but smile a bit at the sight of his warm eyes, shaking your head in amusement at his (over)confidence.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks you.

"Mhm... Like a baby." You nod and stretch your arms again. "What about you?" You return.

"Slept well, yeah..." He retorts. "Don't know why I asked, there's no way you could not, after the way I tired you out?" He teases and winks at you.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. "Oh shut it..." You murmur, arching your back and stretching your spine out.

You're acting nonchalant about it, but the delicious soreness between your thighs and the sticky warmth of the sweat you shed last night speaks volumes. He's 100% right.

"I ordered you food," He says before rolling toward you and reaching over your body to the bedside table, retrieving a water bottle, still cold, meaning he went to get it from the fridge for you.

"Thanks." You murmur once he hands it to you. You open it and curl your head up to sip some water. "I've never had a bloke order me food the morning after." You quip.

"Well, I'm not an animal... I ate you out last night, only fair I feed you in return, hm?" He quips, causing you to scoff again and groan at the stupid comment.

Cheeky fucker, and the worst part is he knows how bad that was, and is still smirking down at you all smugly...

A notification from his phone makes him yelp softly and he rolls away, rising from the bed. "Food's downstairs." He announces.

Your eyes are drawn to the way he looks as he collects his clothes from the floor of your bedroom, tugging them on over his body, his cock, especially, hanging low against his thigh before he fixes it inside his underwear and tucks it all into his jeans.

The memory of how he pounded into you with reckless abandon last night, the tip of his cock hammering past your gummy walls at a neck-breaking pace, hearing you cry out in delight every time it kissed your cervix, comes flowing back.

Kyle notices you eyeing him up just as he's putting on his boots and glances at you with the same smug smirk he's shot you so many times in the last 12 hours together.

Stopping at the door of the bedroom while turning his shirt right side out, ready to put it on, he winks at you. "Don't worry, I'll give you a round two after we eat."

woke up wanting to write something with my pretty boy kyle and this was born.

cw: nsfw. fem!reader. gaz obsessing over the pretty college girl by his side. implied future stalking ig? unedited.

someone catches Kyle’s attention on the plane.

his legs are on the verge of cramping and his breath is ragged, running to board his connection flight at the last call. after falling off a helicopter twice in the last operations, he developed an uneasiness of flying, no matter the aircraft, preferring taking the train over being miles up in the air, even if it triples the travel. but this time, he just wanted to get home the fastest way possible for a much-needed night of sleep in his own bed, instead of the barely cushioned military-issued mattress.

he hopped on the plane and made his way through the corridor, gaze fixed on the numbers under the luggage rack, attentively looking for his spot. he stopped by row thirteen, eyes darting between the number and the woman on the window seat. i could’ve sworn i marked that one when i booked? Kyle checks the boarding ticket again – row 13, seat A. it’s the right seat, why is there someone on it? 

an annoyed sigh escapes his lips, gathering the energy to speak up and reclaim his rightfully bought seat. the problem is, he gets ultimately struck when the seat-thief notices him standing and turns to face him. wide eyes meet his brown ones, immediately softening at the sight of your tempting glossy lips and delicate fingers pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. pretty little thing.

“i’m sorry, is this your seat? it was empty on the first flight,” you say, an apologetic tone in your voice as you frantically close the book on your lap and shove it in a bag, “i’ll move back for you–”

“it’s alright, keep it.” he interrupts, throwing his carry-on in the rack and taking the empty middle spot beside you. he smirks at your appreciative nod and watches you settling again on the backrest, buckling the seatbelt at the shining signal hovering your heads and paying extra attention to the flight attendant announcements, even when no one around seems to care. sweet girl, so considerate to everyone.

the plane starts speeding on the runway, and from his peripheral he views your squeezed eyes and nearly white fingers gripping the armrest, breathing quickening during the gravity push of the take off. it takes a moment for you to release your tight grasp and exhale, making his hand twitch with an urge to soothe you, tell you that you’re safe.

he shakes the sensation and leans his head back, focusing on the one thing he can do to pass the time – sleep. but he can’t keep his gaze out of you, glancing to his left whenever you make a movement, no matter how small. the rapid keyboard tapping guides his irises to your laptop screen, catching a few words in a sea of what for him sounds like an alien language. DNA strand? allele? locus mutation?

he sneaks a look through your figure and his eyes land on the familiar blue logo on your hoodie, the same one he always sees on the walk from the market to his flat. uni a couple blocks from me. do you live on campus? or nearby? that neighborhood is awful at night, full of old blokes searching the pubs for a quick fuck with a naive college girl. but you seem smart, not the type to fall for their tricks, right?

the harder he tries to avoid your presence, the more you make yourself known, almost making him feel like it’s on purpose. the way your plump lips wrap on the water bottle, slight drop scaping on the corner and trailing down your neck, your flowery perfume filling his nostrils when you shift on your seat to remove the top layer of your clothing, exposing the low-cut blouse underneath and the soft roundness of your tits. is that for me, sweet girl? need a break from studying so hard? the sudden tightness of his trousers brings him back to his senses, stirring the thought out of his brain. 

keep it cool, Garrick, he repeats over and over in his mind, ignoring the tent forming on his lap and praying to whatever god is out there that you won’t see it, even while standing up and brushing your legs on his knees to get to the corridor due the cramped space. however, he doesn’t miss how the guy by his side shamelessly ogles your cleavage when you step past him, making his blood boil and his fists clench – like he wasn’t doing the same exact thing minutes before.

while you're away, he glances at your screen again, noticing the constant message notifications from the contact ‘Marcus - DO NOT ANSWER’. already looking bad for you, mate. curiosity takes hold of him and he starts reading the texts, silently chuckling at the guy’s pathetic attempts to get your attention. what did he do to earn a cold shoulder, sweetheart? did he hurt you? didn’t he pay enough attention to you? i bet he couldn’t even fuck you the way you deserve. 

he keeps skimming the messages until the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth fades into a frown when he reads ‘you’re gonna regret leaving me’. now, who’s this prick? think you’ll get away with threatening my girl?

his body stiffens when you come back, eyes darting back to the small telly in front of him when your hand brushes on his thigh while sitting once again. he hears your irritated huff when you skim through the messages, shutting the laptop with near violence. i can take care of him for you, love. you won’t have to deal with that by yourself anymore. 

the pilot’s muffled voice coming through the speakers and announcing the landing shortens his daydreams about getting rid of Marcus. it would be a great way to keep himself busy while on leave, making sure to do it fast and secretly, of course, just to protect his sweet little thing. poor guy wouldn’t even know what hit him.

the pressure change on his ear is the telltale sign of the aircraft lowering its altitude, landing gear out to hit the lane and brake the machine. he turns to the side, watching again your knitted eyebrows and how your nails dig into the seat. this time he doesn’t contain himself and his hand gently lingers over yours, the softness of it sending lightning strikes over his body and almost making him cum instantly. 

your glinting eyes find his face with a grateful gaze, lips mouthing a sugary thank you when the plane finally stops. he helps you take your handbag out of the rack with ease, using the situation to flaunt his muscles. i can even pick you up, darling. would love to feel your pretty thighs around my waist. you wouldn’t have to walk a day in your life. 

his eyes follow the sway of your hips through the airport, heart almost bursting when you wave goodbye and flash him a timid smile. you think that’s the last time you’ll see him, he thinks this is just the beginning. a name and university? he’s used to finding people with even less information. see you soon, sweet girl.