꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

"welcome home, si," you practically beam, arms invitingly open as you stand up high on your toes to get a good look at him now that he's stripped off his balaclava somewhere haphazardly on the floor. you expect a lingering embrace, at least a mumbled 'missed you' or something, only to be met with being swept up off your feet and your thighs bracketing his hips.

"uh- simon?" you question, confused yet undeniably thrilled by the way he moves with such certainty, asserts his presence without a single word. and god, how does he feel even fucking stronger than before? before you have a chance to wrap your head around it all, you're straddled on his lap on the couch, those steady hands of his exploring your hip and cupping the side of your face.

he still doesn't say a damn thing, just dips his head to nuzzle the side of your neck. fuck, you feel even better than he remembered, and it makes his cock throb just as much as his heart swells for you. simon doesn't have to speak, it's all already clear in the way he caresses you slow, kisses up along your jawline to savor the softness of your skin before he ever lets himself feel those pretty lips again.

"couldn't wait to see you too, si," you mumble out dazedly as you melt on his lap, against his sturdy chest, under his lips. he lets out a rough grunt in response, husky and wordless yet so full of depth that it makes your hands grasp his hair a little tighter, a little needier. simon pulls away to where he can look into your eyes with intense ones of his own, still close enough to feel the brush of each other's shallow breaths.

your heart jolts hard in your chest at the longing and desire written so plainly in those hazy irises of his, and before you can even murmur a simple plead of his name, his lips are on yours. one slow kiss, then a hitched sigh that mingles with yours, then another kiss with his tongue grazing yours, then soon he's licking into your mouth again and again in a way that he knows makes you whine for him. he's being so greedy.

by the time simon's finally pulling away, you feel just as hazy and light as you do heavy as a rock in his lap. and god, you can't help but notice how he's blatantly panting. he looks nothing like the weary man that walked in the front door earlier, but rather living, breathing, utter want embodied - and you wanna see so much fucking more.

it's only after a long silence that simon mutters, "sorry, love. couldn't get a bloody word out 'til i did that to you proper," and finally - you're the speechless one.

⋆୨୧˚ JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH - by spinning you in his arms!

johnny suddenly doesn't feel tired anymore the second he steps in and sees you, memories of the exhaustion and shitty sleep he'd gotten each excruciating night of deployment seeming trivial now at the simple sight of you, of your home. god, even the scent alone is enough to make him grin like a kid on christmas day.

you hardly have time to say a word before you're falling into a fit of laughter, those familiar strong arms tight around your waist as the world spins around again and again in your view. he's chuckling too, practically crushing you to his chest but neither of you care. there's a reluctance when he sets you down on your feet again, but he makes up for it by hugging you close against his every weary muscle.

"missed ye lots, lass," johnny finally says through a pearled smile against your hair, relishing the feeling of it under his fingers again as he strokes along it. fuck, he could die right here, just like this. you're so warm, all soft and clingy with your arms wrapped up high around his neck and he swears his hands just involuntarily start to caress those curves he missed so goddamn much.

"mhm, missed you too, johnny," you murmur back, unable to help the little gasp that ends up escaping you when you feel that sudden hard, blatant press of his clothed cock against your stomach. he knows you - notices how your breath hitches, how you hug him just a bit tighter, and he obliges you by grabbing one of your thighs and hiking it right up.

"so ye missed me then, eh? how much?" johnny can't help but tease, free hand sliding down to your lower back to give a little more pressure of your hips against him. he grunts low and languid as his own instinctively rock into you, attempting to go for slow and savoring but instead coming off simply deprived - which he is. "thought about this every night, slept like shite not being able to properly feel ye."

"well..." you start, voice trailing off into a soft whine where you've buried your face into the crook of his neck. your leg hooks tighter against his hip, desperately craving more of the tingly way his aching bulge nudges against your needy cunt through your clothes with each grind. you breathe shallowly, "you're back now, aren't you?"

johnny feels his cock twitch and his cognition shut off all at once at that silent invitation in your words. there's an eager smirk on his lips as he's now got both of your thighs steady in each of his hands, lifting you up easily onto the kitchen counter and immediately pawing at the hem of your shirt. his head tilts, lips greedily re-exploring the soft skin of your neck each millisecond he's not speaking or panting for air.

when he finally groans out in response, "aye, lass. that i am," you start to wonder if maybe neither of you will sleep tonight.

⋆୨୧˚ KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK - with sweet nothings!

kyle swears the short steps up the porch feel like a mountain to his every tired muscle and hazy mind, boots heavily trudging their way to the door like he's carrying an extra million pounds on his back. but before he can even grasp the knob, it swings wide open and he suddenly feels lighter than air.

because there you fucking are with that sweet little smile on your face, all cozy-looking in the late hour yet that much more stunning just because of it. but then you speak, and kyle barely registers your delighted 'welcome back, kyle' as he stares at you like he's trying to memorize it all in intimate, utter detail.

"fuckin' hell, love," he finally breathes out, all in one move stepping inside and hugging you tight in his arms with a strength he didn't think he had left at this moment. he buries his face against your hair, hands stroking your back, your arms, the back of your head - fuck, any part of you he can get under his palms. "thought you were an angel for a second there."

"aw, kyle..." your tone is full of awed wonder even as it's followed by a fond, soft laugh into his shirt, your own arms wrapping around his strong waist - clinging just as much as he is. you missed him so fucking much, his soothing presence and those little moments of levity or raw affection. but the way a relieved sigh comes shaky from his lips makes you wonder if he didn't miss you more than you did. "glad you're home."

"yeah, bloody fucking glad, too," kyle murmurs back with a dry chuckle, nose grazing your hair and relishing the scent of you - god, he needed this; needs this. he hasn't even taken his hat off and he's already walking you back towards couch, not giving a damn about his muscles' protests as he works to get you both positioned just how he likes it - laying on your sides snuggled close. he groans softly, "christ, yes..."

you let out a content hum as you wrap your arms around his neck, his brawny ones tight around your waist and pulling you higher. it hardly takes long before kyle's pressing lazy kisses to your throat, collarbone, then lower as his fingers tug the hem of your shirt down just enough. those happy sighs of yours turn into little shudders when he finally caves and pulls your shirt up entirely. you breathe out, "kyle- shouldn't you... rest?"

"am resting," he mumbles idly between kisses, wasting not a damn second before giving one of your breasts a gentle squeeze and dragging pecks all over it like he needs it - and maybe he does. a shivered whine escapes you and he just mutters 'i know, love, i know' before he finally gives a teasing, languid kiss right on your sensitive nipple that has your hips jolting.

kyle gives a little smirk against your skin and explains simply in that low, dazing tone, "we're laying down, aren't we? think that bloody well counts as resting, no?" and your struggle to counter his point only tells him for sure, he'd fully convinced you.

⋆୨୧˚ CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE - hours early to surprise you!

john wasn't supposed to be back home for another few hours, at least according to what he'd outright told you. little did you know, too lost in cooking your own surprise dinner for his return, that the front door was creaking open. even the jingle of keys, the trudge of boots on wood - nothing was disarming your focus.

but it's when the faint scent of cigar smoke and his cologne grows stronger, the air of the kitchen feels a little warmer, and you feel something - or rather, someone - peeking over your shoulder at your work that you finally snap out of it with a startled gasp.

"easy there, love," john chuckles low in his chest, watching amusedly in real time as you crane your head to look at him with confusion, then surprise, then utter delight. christ, you're so fucking perfect - his planned-out surprise was worth every little lie about flight times or traffic he gave you. unable to help himself, he teases, "it's just me. unless you already forgot who i was after all that time apart, mm?"

"oh, whatever! i could've accidentally thought you were a robber and knocked you in the head with this spoon," you retort, pointing the utensil up at him in mock threat before turning back to the stove, unable to stop the laugh bubbling up in your chest. you can feel him stepping closer still, his chest nudging against your back in a way that makes your nerves prickle. you sigh out, "well, so much for trying to surprise you with a big dinner..."

"well lass, consider me surprised anyway. reassured now?" john jokes as his head dips, chin resting on your shoulder with an easy, patient air that contradicts the utter yearning in the way his hands glide over the dip of your waist, down your hips, then back up again. fuck, he really knows how to touch you in a way that makes your head all fuzzy. he gives a languid, breathy chuckle against your cheek. "and wearing my shirt, are you, love? must really be trying to do me in."

"well... no, i had a nice outfit i was gonna wear but you showed up early before i could change," you mutter in weak protest, hardly aware of anything but the feeling of his lips on your temple before pressing slow kisses down to your jaw. his hand holds your hip steady, the other trailing higher until it's giving your breast a little squeeze and he damn near groans when he realizes you're not wearing a bra entirely.

"don't even think about changing," john mumbles, voice husky and a little rougher against your ear as his hips can't help but grind, hand on your hip steady to let you feel the pressure. you shudder and almost drop your spoon the second you feel that heavy cock in his pants, all stiff and tingle-inducing each time it drags against your ass.

john's hand slides the hem of his shirt up your body as he groans lowly, "wasn't hungry for dinner in the first place," and you finally cave - you're sure he'll be fine to eat a burnt meal later, right?