#Kyle gaz Garrick fanfiction

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hand Necklace (4 of 4)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: vaginal fingering, light spanking, anal fingering, anal sex, sex toy, double penetration (secondary penetration w/ sex toy), lube, established relationship

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

With some spare time, Kyle enjoys your body.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // hand necklace masterlist

“Where are you off to?”

You return the wand to the mascara bottle, watching Kyle in the mirror as he saunters into the bathroom from the bedroom doorway. He wraps his arms around your middle, hands resting on your stomach as his face turns into your neck, inhaling. He places a kiss right where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Might see some friends,” you reply, setting the mascara on the countertop, one of your hands resting on his.

“When?” he asks softly, lightly nipping at your ear.

You shrug. “A couple hours from now. Why?” You turn in his arms, seeking his face.

Kyle tightens his hold. “So, you’re free for a bit?”

You grin, knowing what he wants. “I am.” You twist around in his grip entirely, draping your arms lazily over his shoulders. “And what would you like to do?”

Kyle unlocks his arms and brings them down to your hips. You’re only wearing an oversized t-shirt with no underwear. It’ll give him easy access to you.

“Am I allowed to do what I want?” asks Kyle. “Willing to follow my lead?”

He’s asking for permission, and you gladly give it. “You know I’m yours.”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of smile. Using his grip on your hips to turn you around, Kyle bends you over the bathroom counter. You have to go up on your toes to prevent the edge from digging into your stomach.

Kyle pushes the t-shirt out of the way, exposing your ass and pussy to the air. One large hand kneads a single cheek before lightly smacking it. It jiggles, and Kyle does it again, watching the bounce before alternating between the two. It isn’t harsh, but there is a very brief sting every time his palm makes contact.

You’re so focused on the way his palm connects with your ass that his finger parting your pussy to slide inside surprises. You inhale sharply, fingers curling to dig at the countertop. Kyle hums softly in pleasure, pumping his finger slowly as your pussy takes more and more of him. His thumb presses on your clit, moving in tandem with his finger.

Kyle inserts a second, and then he alternates between spanks and slow rubs of his thumb. You’re completely at his mercy, bent over, taking all of it. As the pleasure builds in the base of your spine, Kyle increases his pace slightly, just enough to make you fall over the edge, moaning loudly, pussy squeezing his fingers as your toes nearly leave the ground.

Kyle makes a pleased sound low in his throat before his hand on your ass slides down to tease your other hole.

“I’m going to take you here,” he says. “Think you can handle it?”

You smile. “I’ve handled you there before.”

Kyle leans down to place a kiss against the curve of your neck. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He kisses your neck a second time. “Hand me the lube.”

Slowly, you reach out to the nearby drawer. Opening it, you retrieve the bottle, holding it out to him. Kyle takes it from you. You hear the lid popping open and the soft squelch of the gel releasing from the bottle followed by Kyle moving it around on his fingers.

There is a brief pause before Kyle sets the bottle down on the counter. Then, he pushes one finger inside, followed by a second. He begins slowly, moving in languid strokes, working you up to take his cock.

“How’s this feel, love?” Your response is a moan and a strangled “please.” In the mirror, you see Kyle’s grin of victory. “Just a bit more and you’ll be good and ready, yeah?”

A few more strokes and then Kyle withdraws, positioning himself behind you. His cock slides over your sex, collecting lube and your slickness before he brings it to the curve of your ass.

“I need you to do one more thing for me, love.”

“Anything,” you groan, only wanting Kyle to fill you up. To give you what you want.

“Grab the toy. The one we haven’t used yet.”

You glance up into the mirror and Kyle arches a single eyebrow, telling you to go on, to do as he says. Slowly, you reach into the same drawer the lube is kept in, withdrawing a satin bag. Opening it, you remove the toy in question. There are two parts to it. The first is the dildo, smooth and soft with a rounded tip for easy insertion. There is also a smaller nub above it that is in the perfect position to rub against your clit.

Kyle nods toward the toy. “While I fuck your ass, you’re going to fuck yourself with this. Understood?”

Licking your lips, you uncap the bottle of lube and lather it onto the dildo portion of the toy. Shifting your weight to one forearm, you bring the toy between your legs, pressing it to your pussy. As you start to push it in, Kyle takes that moment to start easing himself inside of you.

The stretch of his cock and the toy is almost too much.

“Easy,” he croons when you whimper. “Take your time, love. No rush.”

Once the toy and Kyle are completely inside you, Kyle’s hands shift to your throat. He wraps both hands around it, fingers interlocking.

“Turn it on,” he instructs, and you do, the vibration immediate and strong.

Your breathing comes shaky. Unsteady. Kyle’s first thrust with the combination of the vibrating toy snaps your resolve, sends that building pleasure at the base of your spine exploding forward. It shoots out, enters your limbs, makes the tips of your toes and fingers tingle. Your pussy clenches around the toy as Kyle sets a steady pace.

With his hands around your throat, you’re pinned between him and the counter, completely submissive to every stroke he gives. Your grip on the toy is weak, and you’re only able to move it in little bursts of energy at a time. The small, vibrating stump that presses on your clit lengthens your orgasm into an endless stream of haziness.

Kyle’s hold on your throat tightens a bit. It forces a slight arch in your back, your ass rising a bit more, giving Kyle better access to it. His hips move erratically now, and though you’re nearly gone yourself, you can still hear him distantly.

Kyle’s groans before he comes are sweet. He sounds completely lost, utterly surrendered to the feel of you. You might be the one bent over but Kyle is the one losing it.

“Fuck,” he groans, drawing it out.

Another wave of your orgasm floods through your body. This one is so intense that every muscle clenches and keeps clenching until the only thing you can do is cry out.

Kyle bends forward, his forehead resting against the back of your head as he grinds forward. The toy is still vibrating, and your body periodically jerks in response. It is Kyle’s hand that drops from your neck to between your legs that there is some relief.

He turns the toy off. Removes it from your body. Rests it gently on the counter.

You glance up into the mirror and immediately laugh.

The fresh mascara runs down your cheeks in black rivers.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @bbyfimmie @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien

[mlmxreader]

The Perfect Husband | Kyle Gaz Garrick x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Can I request Gaz with the prompt 60 "It's cold, and I want a cuddle"

Thanks ❞

: ̗̀➛ Gaz is always happy when he comes home, but ever since marrying you, he's always been his happiest when he's there.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Two years, six months, eight days and five hours. That’s how long you and Gaz had been married upon him walking through the door after his latest deployment; for six months, seven days, and two hours, he had been gone.

But he was here now, although he looked tired and worn down, large bags under his eyes and a slightly hazy look in his eyes as he fought back the urge to yawn. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and allowing the scent of home to welcome him.

Fresh coffee, the sound of the kettle just and just turning on again, the warmth from radiators that had been turned on for hours; he smiled, dumping his bag and hanging his cap on the hook next to your thick Winter coat.

Humming under his breath, he kicked his bag to the side so it couldn’t be tripped over, and made his way to the kitchen; the light was on, although he could see why you had not come to the door to greet him just yet.

Headphones sitting firmly on your head as you hummed to yourself; Gaz immediately knew the tune - one of the songs by a band you both liked - Fields of Verdun, by Sabaton.

Gaz knew what to do as he slowly put his arms around you, pulling your back flush to his chest; it took you all of a single second to recognise him, pushing your headphones down and around your neck before gently cradling his face in your hands as you smiled.

You couldn’t help it, letting your eyes roam his features for a moment, taking note of how he seemed so age so much and how he seemed so fucking tired. He would regain his youth every time he came home, and then lose it all again the moment he went back to war; but that was how it had always been for soldiers.

It would never change.

You would have to make the most of what little time you got with him, you knew that, but even as you held him so close, you could already tell that he was slowly slipping through your fingers; a lifetime together would not be enough.

“Hello, mouse,” he whispered, a faint grin on his lips. Dark brown eyes holding little golden halos where the light hit the top of his irises.

You licked your lips as you smiled, wanting to roll your eyes at the stupid pet name; you could still remember the day he started saying it, after you had trapped and released a mouse at the 141’s base. It still made you laugh; all their expertise and their intelligence put together, and none of them were able to catch a tiny little mouse.

“Hi, cariad,” you murmured, letting one hand slip to the back of his neck. “How was it getting back?”

Gaz hummed, leaning into your touch as he relaxed, the tension falling from his shoulders visibly. “It was alright. Price stunk the car out with his posh fags because he refuses to open the window, Ghost kept changing the radio station, Farah was asleep so she didn’t do nothing, not really.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head with such fondness that you couldn’t quite fathom it yourself. “How long did they make you drive?”

“Only from the airport to the first town,” he admitted. “After that, Price did the rest.”

“Good,” you said softly, kindly. “How you feeling?”

Gaz allowed himself to slump into you, resting his forehead against your shoulder and dropping his arms from your waist; he closed his eyes, leaning into you and letting all of his weight rest against you. You didn’t even flinch.

“Fuckin’ knackered,” he rumbled, voice like thunder. Harsh and lazy. “And it’s cold, and I want a cuddle, and I want a cuppa and… I just wanna  be home for all of five fucking minutes.”

“You’re home now,” you told him softly, running your hand up and down his back. “Why don’t you have a fag, have a cuppa, then get in the shower, get your pyjamas on, and snuggle down with me?”

He hummed as he smiled, nodding slowly as he tried to bite back the urge to let out a long and eye watering yawn. “Fancy watching a film and getting a Chinese?”

You grinned as you pushed him away slightly, just enough to gently press a kiss to his lips that left him wanting more. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Gaz nodded, daring to steal another kiss as he pulled away; he instinctively knew where the tobacco, filters and papers were, and set to work rolling two cigarettes whilst you prepared him a quick cup of tea.

Earl grey, black, no sugar. The way he always liked it, especially with the bag left in.

You thanked him with another gentle kiss when he swapped a cigarette for the cup of tea, and quickly pulled out your phone as you looked at what takeaways were open.

“Our favourite’s doing delivery,” you pointed out, leaning into his side.

Gaz leaned back into you, taking a quick look. “What’d you fancy?”

“Chow mein and fried rice, half and half,” you started, “curry sauce, sweet ‘n sour sauce… maybe some spring rolls?”

“You know me better than anyone,” he breathed out with a grin and a curt laugh. “Portion of cheesy chips as well?”

“I knew I married you for the right reasons,” you joked quietly, adding it to the order. “Couple of fritters for afters?”

“Always!” Gaz scoffed, playfully smacking your arm as you laughed while he giggled. “How long until it gets here?”

You took a quick look, then shrugged. “Enough time for you to have a shower and get your pyjamas on.”

“Get yours on as well,” he told you gently. “We’ll camp out in the front room for the night, watch some shit telly, pig out.”

You pulled him in for a quick kiss, grinning against his lips. “You’re the perfect husband, Kyle, y’know that, right?”

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Movie Screens and Battle Scenes

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick X F!Actress!Reader

After nearly a year of constant questions a little idea popped up into your head, why not have your husband and his friends do an instagram live? You could answer everyone’s burning questions and then go back to keeping your life private. It sounded innocent enough, and Kyle was more than willing to do it, now if you could convince everyone else.

A/N: I want to give a HUGE shoutout to @gaylemonshark for helping fuel this fic idea, you've been a giant help and I'd be lost without you tbh lol warnings:minor language, nothing explicit, Ghost being Ghost

You’d kept your private life, well, private for nearly your entire acting career, choosing not to let people close and have rumors spread like wildfire. You had been in countless films, shows, and interviews with co-stars that always seemed curious. What was there truly to know about you, and why were you so adamant on keeping it secret? Your parents were thankful nothing had come out, save for the few rumors saying you were dating a co-star. It wasn’t until you were wearing a noticeable wedding band that the rumors began to fly even more. Who had you gotten married to? Were they also someone famous or were they in a different line of work?

After nearly a year of constant questions a little idea popped up into your head, why not have your husband and his friends do an instagram live? You could answer everyone’s burning questions and then go back to keeping your life private. It sounded innocent enough, and Kyle was more than willing to do it, now if you could convince everyone else.

________ “You want us to do what?” Price was a little confused on the whole idea, especially when you were married to his comrade.

“Well, people have been asking me for years about my personal life and I’d love for them to see the people that matter most.” It sounded much better in your head, and right now you were beginning to panic.

“I’ll ask Johnny and Ghost, but I can’t guarantee they’ll agree to it.” Price gave you a stern look, you wouldn’t push if the other two weren’t willing.

If anything it would just be you and Kyle on the live answering as many questions as you both could. Sure there was plenty about Kyle’s line of work that he couldn’t legally talk about online, not without getting reprimanded. The two of you had met by complete accident, you’d been shooting a new movie and he happened to walk on set. Security was ready to walk him out until you caught sight of him. You’d convinced them to let him stay for the day, having hours long conversations once you were done shooting for the day.

It was a whirlwind romance from the very beginning, Kyle did everything in his power to romance you when he wasn’t deployed. He’d cook for you often, refusing to let you even lift a finger when he was around. So it was no surprise that six months into your relationship that Kyle popped the question. His hands were shaking as he knelt down onto one knee, holding your hands and asking the words you’d been waiting to hear.

“Will you marry me?”

You had all but thrown yourself into his arms, screaming happily a loud ‘Yes!’. It was everything you’d ever dreamt of, calling your mom immediately after it had happened. Kyle was watching you from afar, nothing but love shining in his eyes as you squealed with the news. He wanted you to meet his teammates and friends before the wedding, especially since he wanted to invite them. Who were you to say no?

Price had pulled you into a hug right away, telling you how often Kyle would boast whenever he was on base. His smiles comforted you like a fathers would, and from that moment on you knew that Kyle was in good hands when he wasn’t home. Ghost, or Simon, was the second to introduce himself. He’d warned you that during missions he tended to wear a mask, mainly to keep his identity a secret from the enemies and to strike fear into them. However when you stood in front of the man you were glad to see he’d forgone it. What Kyle had failed to mention was just how big he was, not just in height but in stature as well.

“Nice to meet you, Kyle’s told me a lot about you.” You smiled softly, shaking his hand gently.

He scoffed before pulling you into a friendly, albeit tight, bear hug. You snuggled into his chest for a brief moment before pulling away from his embrace. He didn’t want you to be afraid of him, he wasn’t a ray of sunshine to most people. And then there was Johnny who didn’t waste a single second before flirting with you. Your cheeks flushed as you giggled, raising your hand to surprise everyone with the news.

“Wait! You’re engaged?” Johnny’s head whipped to where Kyle was talking with Price.

“Oh, that’s why we were coming to see you guys.” Kyle walked over and wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“I believe a congrats is in order.” Price headed over to his desk, pulling out a bottle of what looked like whiskey.

“Don’t have fancy glasses so you lot will have to deal with plastic ones.” He poured out enough for everyone, handing out the cups.

Johnny was the first to cheer, congratulating the two of you on your engagement and a long and happy marriage. You sipped the dark liquor, relishing in the way it burned going down your throat slightly.

“That’s another reason we’re here. Neither of us are doing a wedding party but we wanted to invite you to the wedding.” Neither of you had set a proper date yet, wanting to make sure you’d have time for both the wedding and a short honeymoon.

Johnny was more than overjoyed at the thought of your wedding, getting to relax for a few days with no worries sounded rather nice. What surprised you was how eager even Simon was, he had agreed within seconds of the words slipping past Kyle’s lips. Price was honored that you’d asked him in person, considering Kyle had his home address he felt it was safer to do it in person.

“We have to start planning first, but once we set a date we’ll let you guys know right away.” You leaned your head against Kyle’s shoulder.

Meeting the group of men that helped keep the world safe went better than you’d expected, considering most military men your friends had dated were less than savory characters. And while you knew deep down they had to do bad things to keep people safe, it was simply life. Your parents didn’t know much about Kyle considering you couldn’t very well tell them exactly what he did for work. His parents had welcomed you with open arms, telling you how gorgeous you were and how happy they were. If the news ever broke out about your engagement, or marriage you wouldn’t tell anyone about Kyle.

Well…

“Thank you guys for doing this, if you get uncomfortable I can turn it off and we can have a nice lunch instead.” You were setting up the camera and laptop, making sure everything was clear and visible.

“It’s no problem sweetheart, better to get the world off your ass sooner rather than later.” Of course Price was encouraging this, he’d been there when you called Kyle about it originally.

You scooted the chairs closer, making sure everyone would be in frame while having enough space to relax fully. Simon had all but stolen the bowl of chips from Johnny, cackling as the Scot tried to snag some of the salty goodness.

“Alright boys, we’ll be on live in ten seconds.” You plopped down into your own chair, fingers lacing with Kyle’s as he scooted closer to you.

You watched the timer countdown, signaling that you were live as your fans began to pour into the chat. Most of them were screaming hello and other variations of their own personal greeting. You giggled to yourself and greeted everyone that was currently watching.

“I’m here to introduce you guys to the amazing man that is my husband.” Kyle leaned forward so that he was more in frame for the camera.

The comments began to blow up immediately, most of them saying how attractive he was and asking how you’d met. You let Kyle answer the question of how you’d met, watching how his expression lit up at the chance to talk about you. He didn’t hide a single detail, face flushing as he remembered nearly getting thrown out before you came to his rescue. Simon snickered behind you, laughing louder when Kyle had to admit you were his knight in shining armor. It was a sweet moment for the two of you, but to the normal person it would look quite funny.

“We’ve been married for just over two years, guess you guys aren’t as observant as you think.” It was mainly due to the fact that you would remove your ring, not wanting to put Kyle in the spotlight.

You’d posted only one photo of the two of you from your wedding day, everyone had demanded to know who the mystery man was, but you wanted to keep him to yourself. It took a paparazzi snapping a photo of you for things to come crashing down. If they managed to find you at home, then they’d stop at nothing until they got more photos of you together.

“So unfortunately I can’t tell you too much about my amazing husband, so I’ll answer a few questions about his amazing friends before we head off for the day.” You watched the comments for a good question to pick.

“How did my first meeting with them go? Oh that’s easy, Price was very friendly, and Johnny flirted with me immediately, not even a hello but flirting right away.” You laughed at the guffawed expression on Kyle’s face.

The two men began to bicker, Kyle saying that you were his lady and Johnny needed to find someone else to flirt with.

“That’s just how he is, sees a pretty girl and man’s gotta flirt.” Simon snickered as Johnny rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s my wife you dirty little Scot!” Kyle tried to contain his laughter, truly he did, but he couldn’t be all that surprised. You were gorgeous, of course Soap would flirt with you.

“I din’ know tha’!” Johnny huffed to himself.

“Don’t worry, I took the flirting as a compliment.” You reached over to pat his knee, smiling up at the other man.

Johnny’s once sour expression suddenly turned smug, well if you liked his flirting then clearly he was doing something right.

“Does Johnny flirt with everyone? Yes, yes he absolutely does. I’m sure he flirted with every single new recruit on base.” You rested your hand on Kyle’s knee, relaxing into his side.

“That’s cause he’s a whore.” John, who was taking a sip of his water, spit it out at Simon’s words.

It caused an uproar in the chat and also within the group. Simon couldn’t help but start laughing at John’s reaction. Some of them were worried that John would end up choking on some of the water he’d meant to drink, of course you kept a careful eye on him in between giggles. Johnny looked downright mortified, it was all in good fun though, nothing serious.

“Alright, let’s get a few more questions before my husband and his friends head out for the day.” You turned back towards your laptop, looking for questions that piqued your interest.

The chat was flooded more than usual, comments rushing by before you could properly read them. You managed to get two final questions, saving them on a side page so that you could answer them.

“Are Kyle and I going to ever have children? Well that depends on where we both are in a few years. We’re both still young so rushing into something like that isn’t the best idea.” It was true, you’d discussed having children but with Kyle being deployed at any given moment for long amounts of time, it made you nervous.

“We want them eventually, but I think we’re just enjoying our time together right now.” Kyle pressed a kiss to your cheek, smiling at the way you squirmed.

“Alright the last and final question is, Simon, are you single?” Simon rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, I am, no I do not want to date someone that’s nearly half my age.” You wanted to laugh at his response, he definitely wasn’t wrong about your fanbase, a lot of young girls seemed to follow you.

You wrapped up the live thanking everyone for their questions and promising to post more pictures of you and Kyle when given the chance. You loved your fans, but there were things you didn’t want to make public, such as your husband since these kids were like bloodhounds. They’d find out his name and where he grew up if given the opportunity, and that made you a little nervous.

“Why don’t we take a picture so that we can post it to your instagram?” Kyle was supportive of whatever you posted, as long as it was your decision in the end.

You agreed and set up the phone so that everyone would be in the frame, setting the time before taking your place beside Kyle once more. Everyone put on their best smiles, even Simon who didn’t much like having his photo taken. He was confident in his looks, but knowing millions were about to see his face daily? It was kind of daunting.

“I’m gonna go ahead and post it, thank you guys for being so understanding and doing this for me and Kyle.” You smiled at everyone, writing out a quick, but rather cheesy, caption before hitting post.

You could ignore the comments that would flood in with the news that you were married, and the many thirst comments you would inevitably get as well. For now you were going to enjoy having your husband home for as long as you could.

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[xxshadowbabexx]

What the cod men make f!reader ride (NSFW)

Price is totally, 100% making you ride his boot. He just is. Loves how pathetic you look, whimpering and begging him to just touch you already. Loves to remind you how much of a whore you are. And, once you cum all over his boot he makes you lick it clean.

Ghost goes crazy at the thought of you riding his large, muscular thigh. Needs to drag your hips back and forth as you get off. Head buried in his neck because it just feels so good as you whimper in his ear.

Gaz wants to see you ride his captain. Please do it for him? Seeing you ride Price will result in him cumming untouched. It might just be the best thing he has ever seen.

Soap totally makes you ride his bicep. Like will toss you over his shoulder and make you cum on his arm before he tosses you onto the bed and ravages you.

Roach needs you to ride his cock. Needs to see you dominate him while chasing your release. Praising him for letting you use him like this.

König will do anything to catch you riding his pillow. Literally NEEDS to catch you in the act. He’ll pay you, not even joking. Just please let him record it.

Graves this cocky fucking bastard will have you ride his abs, he gets off on seeing your slick slathered over his lower abdomen. The moment you cum, squirting all over him, you’ll feel a thick substance landing up and down your back. Fucking bastard.

Alex wants you to ride his face. Needs his mustache to be wet and sticky as your slick drips down his jaw and soaks the sheets beneath him. His hands grip your ass and hips as he moans into you, utterly in love.

Alejandro wants you to ride his tongue. He’ll stick his long tongue out as far as it goes and let you do what you please. He just wants to worship his cariño.

Nikto loves seeing you ride his fingers. Obsessed with the image of you desperately trying to get off on his long, thick fingers while begging him to just stuff you with his cock already.

taglist

@theloneshadow24 @frogtowne @ladyxtiger @whitetiger846

[charliemwrites]

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

[oceantornadoo]

sleepy morning (simon riley x f!reader)

part 4 of the two lieutenants series...HORNINESS LEVEL 1000

tw: wet and messyyyyyyyyy MDNI

--

that had to have been the best sleep of your life.

no seriously. extra strength melatonin could not compare to sleeping with simon THEE “ghost” riley. you had never had such a broad, thick man on top of you. and you liked it.

now, however, you found yourself in a much more compromising position.

the sleep had started innocent enough, you both insisting it was a platonic arrangement, a cheap version of getting a weighted blanket. but you had shuffled in your sleep, and now your bodies were tangled. simon's head lay on your collabone, his mouth hovering over your clothed breast, emitting small sighs in his sleep. your nipples were aching at the prolonged stimulation, his breath changing the temperature and making them harden. his hands grasped you beneath your arms, thumbs brushing the sides of your tits. you didn't think it was on purpose, but you had been on the edge for hours.

simon nuzzled closer into you, feigning sleep as long as possible. his left thigh wedged between your legs, his right bracketing the outside of yours to keep you right there. his morning wood, clothed by his thin sweats, laid heavy against your thigh. he could almost smell the wetness between your thighs, the way you tried humping him when you were asleep. little, uncontrolled movements of your hips, up and down, chasing friction. he tried to stop his teeth from sinking into your clothed tit, the softness of it so tempting. you were right there, almost his, yet so far it felt like foreign territory. somewhere he's been plenty of times, unwelcome. he had to tread carefully. then of course, soap had the gall to knock.

"l.t.? yer on recruit training, started a couple minutes ago." simon groaned against you, providing even more friction to your tit. guess he couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. "'m sick. cancel it." a pause, soap was unbelieving. when simon was sick, if anything, he coached the recruits with even more vengeance than usual. "yer sure?" simon propped himself up on his forearms, squishing you in between them even more. you looked up at him, a dream with your tired eyes and a bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. he laid a small kiss to your forehead, so small you must still be dreaming. "cancel it. 'm bedridden today." his gravelly morning voice must have been enough for soap, who he could virtually hear straightening up after leaning against simon's doorframe. "got it, l.t."

simon breathed a sigh of relief. finally, finally, he acknowledged you. "mornin' dovie. sleep well?" sleep well?! you had slept like the dead. "best sleep of my life, simon. might have to make this a regular thing." you joked, still unsure of the lines that had been erased last night. and that forehead kiss. "available whenever ya need, love." you were still tangled together, his cock still against your cunt. you bucked against him again involuntarily, the whisper of friction too light for you. you both looked down together at where you were almost touching, separated by two layers of fabric. "simon i-"

another loud knock. "what." simon gritted out. "seen the better lieutenant, ghost? we're supposed to run drills today an' i can't find her." it was gaz and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. simon looked down at you questioningly and you shook your head vehemently. "she's sick. contagious." gaz was choking back a laugh. he must have talked to soap before this. "alrigh', i'll tell price. get better, you two." fuck.

"shit, si, i'm sorry. should have slept at my own place i-" another forehead kiss this time, a bit longer than the first. he trailed his mouth to your nose, small pecks here and there. turning his head down, he nosed your jaw, inhaling the smell of your mixed scents. like you were two of the same. one.

"can i?" you were so far gone it took a bit for his question to register. you had tilted your head back to give him more access, a willing prey to your domestic predator. "can- can you what?" he moved down a bit more, cock moving away from your cunt. you unwillingly let out a whine at the loss of contact and he chuckled into your skin. "suck your tits, baby." oh. oh.

"yes, yes. please"

he laughed again, the sensation vibrating through your skin. his mouth finally made contact with your tit, mouthing at it over your t-shirt. thankfully, it was thin, so you can feel the slight suck and the ghost of a bite. he alternated between your breasts, hands rolling the other nipple he wasn't sucking. your shirt was wet, sticking to your skin, drenched in saliva. "simon, can you- please." the last part was a moan as he gave you a bigger bite. "use your words, lieutenant." he was rutting into the bed, cock chasing much needed friction. he didn't want to scare you but his need for you was bubbling over, a pot on the stove too long. "my shirt, ah, my shirt off."

he freed you from your shirt, the fabric drenched in his saliva, sticking to your skin as he peeled it off. your tits were wet and slightly bruised from his minstrations. marked.

"you like my marks on you?" you looked down, not caring about the unsexy double chin as you took in what he had done to you. keeping it platonic was done and dead, and you were going to take advantage of it.

"more."

a willing soldier, he dove back in, licking and sucking like he had been made for it. his right hand went lower, palm pressing against your wet pussy for some much-needed attention to your clit. you had never come from nipple stimulation alone, but you had been edged for hours while you were sleeping. the pressure on your clit was perfect, the wetness seeping through your sleep shirts onto his callused hand. he let go of your nipple with a loud smack, a string of saliva dripping from his chin. "think you can come like this, dove?" you nodded furiously, his desperate little dove. simon went back down to your abandoned tits and you gasped at the feeling of his bite. he pressed his palm harder against your aching cunt, virtually feeling the flutter of your wanting pussy, pleading for him. he rubbed it in circles, up and down, listening to your sounds to find a pattern you liked.

and suddenly he had it, your back arching as you felt that telltale spark at the base of your spine. simon felt it, your desperation increasing tremendously as you bucked into his hand, thrusting out your tits like a bitch in heat. "right there, baby. come fer' me, hm?" you nodded as he gave your tit one last long suck and pressed his palm right where you needed it, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. he lightly tongued your breasts as you came down, cleaning up his mess. "feel better?" you groaned, the reality of how desperate you had acted finally hitting you.

"they all know, simon. the whole base knows by now." he moved up until you two were face to face. so what if the whole base knew? you had been his since that first handshake.

"so what?"

--

guys this was so horny wowwwwwwwww ovulation hitting me fr

part one part two part three part four

[multific]

Taskforce 141 When You Use Your Safe Word - Preferences 

Warnings: SMUT, Minors DO NOT interact

It was all beginning to be a little too much.

You knew you should stop him, but you didn't want to disappoint him. You wanted to last as long as he needed you to, you were his good girl after all.

As he said many many times.

But he also said to stop him if it gets too much, he just how much he can get lost in your pussy and how rough he can get.

So, you agreed on a simple safe word, "Red". 

It was for you to use at any given moment. No questions asked he would stop immediately.

You never imagined using it, but as he was mercilessly pounding into you, it became all too much.

You wanted it to end, you needed it to end.

"Red! Please! RED!" you said when you finally caught your breath...

John Price

He stops immediately.

Pulling out as he turns you around, checking your face.

"Sweetgirl, are you okay? Talk to me."

"Too much." is all you could muster. And John immediately felt guilt running down his spine.

He knew the day would come when he went too far. When he would overstimulate you to the point of no return.

"Okay, let's get you into the bath, eh? A nice warm bath." he said as he ran to the bathroom and ran you a nice bath, he then ran back and got you.

Soon, he was sitting next to you on the floor, one of his arms inside the bath, in the water, making sure the temperature was perfect.

"I'm so sorry, Darling. I should have known. You started to move away from me, but I just kept going..."

"It is not your fault John, I should have stopped sooner."

"I should have known."

"It is not your fault." you moved your hand and placed it on his cheek, he turned and kissed your palm. "Make it up to me by cuddling me."

"I will never let you go. I'm truly sorry."

"This is why I have a safe word, John."

"And you were a good girl and used it." he placed a kiss on your head, and he would make sure to cuddle you until the next morning and beyond.

Simon Riley

He would be ashamed but it would take him a second to realize what you just said, but when he does, he moves away from you immediately.

His hands would be shaking as he watched you sit up against the headboard.

"I'm so sorry." he would turn to leave, but you stopped him.

"Simon," your sweet sweet voice. So kind and innocent, he would turn to look at you. "Come back please, I'm cold." how could he ever say no to that?

He grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt, handing it to you as he put on the pants.

He moved close to you, leaning against the headboard, holding you, running his hand up and down your back.

"I'm too sore, it's why I made you stop, I think I'm just too tired."

"I'm glad you spoke up and said something." you moved and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Simon." you tried your best to reassure him, letting him know you were okay.

"I love you too."

Kyle Garrick

In one movement he stopped and looked at you, your back was to him but he heard you clear as day.

"It's too much, Kyle, please."

"I'm sorry, does it hurt?" he watched as you nodded and he moved back, turning you around and sitting you up in bed. "How about a shower?"

You nodded again as you slowly calmed down and your breathing evened out.

Kyle watched you closely, making sure you were okay, he even washed you up.

He then carried you to bed, laying you down.

"I'm so sorry."

"It is all good. I'm glad you stopped."

"Of course, I did! It is why I came up with a safe word for you. I'm glad you used it when it became too much." you smiled at him as he leaned down and kissed your lips. "Does it still hurt?"

"I'm more sore than hurt now." you said and he held you close. "It really is okay, Kyle."

He knew it was, and he knew it will be, he was just glad he had the presence to stop when he did.

Johnny MacTavish

It took him a moment to realize what you just said.

"Red?" he asked with a confused tone. "Shit." he moved away from you, but still stayed close. "What is it?" he asked and if you wouldn't be so out of it, you would have realized the worry in his voice.

"It hurts, too much." you managed to say.

"How can I help?" he asked, watching your face closely.

"Just hold me, let me sleep."

"Sleep, okay got it."

He pulled you close, turning the lights off as he soon heard your soft snores.

He felt so guilty for hurting you, but he was proud you spoke up.

He spent hours in the dark, thinking and overthinking.

He thought he should have noticed, that he should have realized, but he could recall that he was too focused on the feeling, he got lost in it, and he wouldn't have seen the discomfort because he had his head in the crook of your neck.

But one thing was sure, after this, Johnny would pay extra attention to keep his control and his cool and make sure you are comfortable and you enjoy sex as much as he does.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[gloomwitchwrites]

Kitchen Quickies (3 of 4)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), established relationship, praise, cum swallowing

Word Count: 957

A/N: part of the Imagines & What If series

Kyle tries to keep his cool as you get on your knees.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // kitchen quickies masterlist

“Yeah. I can hear you.” Kyle glances up when you walk into the kitchen.

He’s sitting at the small breakfast table in nothing but gray sweatpants. They hang low on his hips, the elastic band resting right across the deep V-shape of his pelvis. You clearly see the soft line of hair that runs up from below the band to circle his belly button.

Kyle leans back in the chair, legs spread out before him, and one elbow on the table. He holds his phone up to his ear, and his bare chest is still a little damp from the shower. There is a deep, primal urge within you to put your tongue to the droplets of water.

“Who is it?” you mouth silently, resisting the urge to put your lips to flesh.

“Price,” he mouths back. Price must say something on the other end because Kyle responds out loud this time. “Yes, Captain. I heard you.”

He gives you a lopsided smile and rubs at his chest absently, glancing away again as he focuses on the conversation. You watch him for a moment as you lean against the countertop. You’re in a bit of a mood to cause trouble, and Kyle looks so relaxed and peaceful that teasing him sounds like fun.

Moving slowly, you saunter up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Kyle doesn’t glance up at you but he does use his free hand to reach up and cover your hand with his. His fingers twine with yours, and it’s such a soft thing that you don’t want to break it.

But you do.

Breaking away from him, you step between his spread legs, and slowly sink to your knees. At first, Kyle is confused, the middle of his brow furrowing as you begin your descent. But when your hands fall onto his thighs and slide upward, that confusion changes into a knowing smirk. He finds this amusing, maybe even playful, but you want him to shiver under your touch, to have to focus all his control on not falling apart while on the phone with Price.

Kyle reaches out to stroke his thumb over your cheek. “Not now,” he mouths, shaking his head.

You don’t care. You’re going to enjoy this. And afterward, he’ll probably deal out a little punishment.

Your fingers crawl up his thighs and curve around the band, pulling back. Kyle is only half paying attention. Price is likely telling him something important, but there isn’t any stopping you. By the time you reveal his cock, and Kyle’s attention is focusing in, you’re already putting your mouth around the head.

With one hand, your grasp the base, and Kyle hisses, his head falling back slightly as you palm him and your lips lightly suck on the head. You pump him a few times, then release the head to place a soft kiss on the tip. A pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit, and you eagerly lick it up with the tip of your tongue. Another one blooms there, taking its place, and you swirl your tongue around the flared head before licking the entire length from base to tip.

Kyle begins to moan, but quickly catches himself, covering it up with a cough.

“Sorry, Captain. I’m good. Just something…stuck in the throat is all.”

Your grin up at him and Kyle shakes his head in amusement.

Teasingly, you circle the head of his cock with the tip of your tongue. Kyle shifts in the chair. He can’t sit still, and even though the phone is pressed to his ear, you can tell he’s completely unfocused on what Price is saying.

Victory.

Kyle grabs the back of your neck, but he does not pull you away from him. It’s a silent acknowledgment and you claim the opening. You take the head of him into your mouth. Holding there, you wait for your salvia to collect. Then you swallow him down, your lips touching your hand.

Kyle’s eyelids flutter, all of his control slipping away from him like raging water. He’s nodding but you’re not sure if he’s agreeing with something Price is saying or he’s reveling in the feel of your mouth around him. Hollowing your cheeks, you slide back up, and then repeat the process, bringing in your hand to pump him in time with your upward passes.

Getting on your knees for Kyle makes you happy and eager. Watching him lose all control stirs your own need. His hand slides away from your neck to go to the top of your head. Kyle licks his lips and his mood changes.

Those eyes of his grow darker, and you suddenly stop moving, gaze locked with his.

“Captain. I need to call you back.” Kyle pulls the phone away from his face and ends the call.

He smirks, and you know you’ve lost. “Bad girl,” he croons, his fingers tightening your hair. “Hold onto my thighs.”

You immediately comply, your fingers digging into the fabric of his sweatpants. Kyle takes control, and it’s fucking glorious. Your mouth and throat are his to use, and Kyle takes full advantage, guiding you down on his cock over and over again enough that you almost gag but don’t.

He groans loudly, his hips flexing upward slightly as he brings you down on him.

“Be good and swallow for me,” he purrs.

You hold still as Kyle finishes down your throat. You relax, take every drop, and when he slowly pulls you off his cock, you present your open mouth to him.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, helping you to your feet. One of Kyle’s hands drops to squeeze your ass and gives it a light pat. “Bedroom. Now.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @berarenado @saoirse06

[mlmxreader]

Nothing Better Than to be Home | Kyle Gaz Garrick x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Kaz with

94"Have I ever mentioned how good you look in my hoodies?" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Being home is one of the greatest things in the world, and Gaz isn't one to ignore it.

: ̗̀➛ smoking, swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

More often than not, Gaz always texted you to let you know when he was close to getting home, usually when he was around five minutes away so that you would have time to put the kettle on and make him a cup of tea for when he walked through the door.

You always did the same if you were ever out; always texting to let him know when to stick the kettle on and make coffee.

The thing was, though, Gaz was home in the early hours of the morning, and when he went to text you and he saw the time, he figured that you would be asleep.

So he left it, and when he got to the door, he tried to be as quiet as possible; sneaking around to the kitchen and gently, softly placing his bag down as he sighed.

You left your cigarette stuff on the side, along with one of his lighters; it made him smile as he rolled one for himself, lighting it and taking a long drag. After months of smoking Price's shit cigarettes, he was glad to steal one of yours.

He leaned against the counter, closing his eyes for a moment as the nicotine flooded his system. He didn't realise that you had just come out of the bathroom after getting into your pyjamas… not until you screamed and made him flinch.

With the cigarette between his lips, he threw his hands up and exposed his palms.

“Only me!” Gaz yelped out, daring to grin when you took a step closer. “Only me, sweetheart.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, turning the light on and coming to stand beside him as you hummed quietly; you took a filter, a paper and a pinch of tobacco, rolling together. “Why didn't you turn the bloody light on? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

He couldn't help but to laugh, shaking his head as he gently put his arm around you; you were so warm, he couldn't help but to close his eyes as he sniffed gently.

He tried not to laugh again. “Did I say you could steal my hoodies while I was away?”

“Did I say you could pinch my baccy?” You pointed out with a soft chuckle, shaking your head fondly. “Why didn't you text, anyway?”

From the corner of his eye, Gaz could see the light of dawn slowly starting to rise; the darkness of the night slowly turning a pale, dull blue as the sun began to creep out of its blankets and glare wearily at the world.

He was glad he could watch another sunrise with you, in all honesty. He missed it.

The long nights watching films together from the moment it was dark, only to look out of the window and see the dawn start to rise; the cooing of pigeons taking over from the hooting of owls. The foxes running away as the light slowly reached out with deft fingertips.

Gaz couldn't wait for times like that again, being able to snuggle into you as you neglected the world outside in favour of more films; your laptop resting on his crotch as he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“I thought you would be asleep,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a gentle and sweet hum. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” you assured just as gently, leaning into him and closing your eyes for a moment. “How was the trip home?”

Gaz wanted to tell you the truth, he really did.

He wanted to tell you that Ghost had annoyed him to Hell and back with his constant dad jokes and stupid puns. He wanted to tell you that Price's cigarettes were disgusting and nearly made him give up on the spot. He wanted to tell you that Farah was the only one who didn't annoy him and actually let him use one of her earbuds.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it, too tired and drained from the planes and trains and taxis that all he could think of was having you near; snuggling up with you at night and feeling your warm flesh against his own.

Feeling your soft kisses wake him up as the light crept through the gap in the curtains. Singing with you in the kitchen as he helped you to cook whatever meal you had settled on together; trying not to laugh when you begged him to slow dance to country songs.

Going shopping with you and pushing the trolley as you asked him what to get even though you had both left a shopping list on the kitchen counter. Splitting the chores directly down the middle and meeting halfway through for a quick kiss. Watching films together from dusk until dawn.

Gaz had missed the lot of it, from the mundane to the exciting. He missed every single second, but he was so tired. He hadn't slept for two days, and he wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with you in bed and fall asleep.

Catch up on whatever he had missed and know for once that he wasn't going to wake up alone; that he was going to wake up and be able to bury his face against the back of your neck and grumble and plead for five more minutes in bed.

“It was… the usual,” he breathed out. “To be honest I'm just glad I'm finally home.”

“Y'know what?” You mused, finishing your cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray on the counter. “I'm glad you're home, too… I've missed you.”

“I can see,” Gaz chuckled softly, tugging at the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as he grinned. “Have I ever mentioned how good you look in my hoodies?”

You shrugged, hooking your arms around his neck and pulling him close. Gently rubbing the tip of your nose against his for a moment. “I’m sure you have, but you've been gone so long… I need a reminder how it sounds.”

[neoarchipelago]

Y/N: that's ridiculous... Ghost doesn't have a crush on me.

Gaz: yes he does

Soap: yes he does

Price: yes he does

Ghost: internally screaming yes I do

[soapsbaby]

Silly Spicy Call of Duty headcanons

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x reader Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: All NSFW but very lighthearted, nothing particularly triggering but ask to tag! Word count: 750ish

These are just silly little headcanons about them, PLEASE if you have any like these send them to me i had such a blast writing them lol!!

Ghost

Sometimes his mask slips a little and he looks goofy as hell, you have to do your best to not laugh into his face because you know he won’t let that slide.

Uses British lingo sometimes. Has called your pussy a “fanny” before. Got mad when that made you giggle.

Once got so frustrated with trying to figure out how to operate one of your vibrators that he broke it. Was very apologetic and immediately ordered you another one afterwards.

Soap

He is clumsy as hell. Every time you have tried to fuck in a position that is anywhere near athletic, something goes wrong. It’s a miracle neither of you have broken your necks trying to get it on in the shower. He will always take the fall though, protecting you with everything he has and curling himself around you even if it means he will end up bruised or bleeding.

Makes a lot of typos when sexting, never notices. Called you “baby gorilla” once (you will never let him live that down).

Gets offended when you call him “Soap” in the bedroom. You know my name, what are you calling me that for? Dummy.

König

He doesn’t usually wear his balaclava under his mask when you have sex since it gets too sweaty but since his mask is pretty loose he will sometimes have to pft-ppf-tpftt when it gets stuck in his mouth. Has almost choked on his mask before.

Gets so flustered that he will just start sputtering nonsense. Has on several occasions been so out of it that he has messed up the nicknames you use for each other. “yes show me that I am your little babygirl, wait- no, you are… I am your boy… you’re… Wait, I’m sorry”. Not a gender or kink thing, which would of course be alright with you, just him being a dummy.

Is a bit of a crier and drooler sometimes which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that he will sometimes accidentally waterboard himself in his mask and not tell you.

Gaz

Has called you mommy once and was mortified. Neither of you have really spoken about it but sometimes you will drop little hints around him to get him flustered.

Likes when you suck him off while he is playing video games but then gets too into the game and genuinely can’t help but get annoyed when he loses because you distract him.

Cpt Price

Is oblivious to any signs that you want him. Will go into Dad story telling mode and completely ignore the effect he is having on you until you grab him by the shirt and just tell him to fuck you.

Has a sex playlist called "sensual" with just the most cliché sex songs on it possible. Can unironically have sex to "Careless Whisper" and “Let’s get it on”.

Has given you rug burn with his beard before. 0/10 very unpleasant experience (you’d do it again, though).

Alejandro

Will say things that could be interpreted as sexist in the moment and then immediately get apologetic. Who’s my good slut? I mean… If you want to be. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… Are you okay with that? Okay. Cool.

Will fuck you in uniform because he knows you’re into that and then get distracted by things he finds in his pockets like shopping receipts. 

Doesn’t care whether or not you understand him, he will speak Spanish to you.

Rudy

Gets tormented by you with new pet names every day. mí amor, I don't know what a Zaddy is. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing.

In the beginning of your relationship he was completely oblivious to most kinks. If you ever expressed anything out of the ordinary to you, he’d raise his eyebrows in confusion and say something like “what? why would anyone want that?” but was always open to trying anything. Now he is probably even more of a deviant than you are.

Valeria

Has this roleplay thing going on where you are a traitor to her cause and she discovers it and gets to “punish” you. You find it a little silly but it gets her super riled up so you play along.

Secretly loves to bottom and to be taken care of by you but would never tell you (you know anyway). Thinks she is being very good at hiding it (she is not).

[aethelwyneleigh27]

The Type of BF/GF Cod Characters Would Be (Scenario)

You know, like that one thing circling around TikTok

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

And yes I'm aware that some have repeated characters, some fit more than one

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I'm honestly on a roll and I've had my morning coffee so I'll start cracking, I have been trying to post more recently since it's October and I didn't really partake in the tober fests so I thought posting more might be good. Just me or are biker fucking hot? Yeah it's probs my thing for masked men.

Disclaimers/Warnings: OOC??

Doberman Boyfriend/Girlfriend whose first instinct was to protect you when you officially became theirs, initially they were always protective in subtle ways, subtle ways that also assert dominance over others. Little things like having a hand on your lower back or gently gripping your waist to move you. Their claimed spot is behind you, since they always find it to work when intimidating others and making sure no one even glances at you the wrong way. Might seem like they're intimidating but to you it's a different story, they're sweeter, more docile? Just far more affectionate and you basically have them wrapped around your finger. Switches in the bedroom but dom leaning, can be subs if you want them to be.

Characters: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves.

Golden Retriever Boyfriend/Girlfriend who are so loyal to the bone, they're fun and oftentimes a little himbo-ish? Quality is the best spent with you, kind of follows you around all the time. They're very clingy but do respect your personal space if you aren't in the mood, though that's what you love about them isn't it? That's they're insistent and wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Also love doing things for you (acts of service) and lives for it when you praise them. Switches in the bedroom, sub leaning.

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Tabby cat Boyfriend/Girlfriend whose chill around others but absolutely craves your affection behind closed doors. The kind of people sometimes randomly show affection in front of others even if they HATE pda. The kind of people who have been traumatized yet still affectionate as can be, everyone loves them for being down to earth but they do have bit of an odd side that only you see. Is a hardcore switch, no leaning.

Characters: Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Black cat Boyfriend/Girlfriend who randomly bring home things that made them think of you, they knew you'd like it but only let out a subtle smirk. Lives for you being their adorable little sunshine, mean and cold towards other but less with you. Tried to give you tough love but eventually gave in because you are you. You know how cats sometimes bring you dead animals as a proof of affection and acceptance, they've done that... only with a human head of course. Providing for you and making sure you're taken care of is their love language, very protective and can really hurt people if they wanted to, someone hurts or upsets you? Their head will be displayed on your front porch. Hardcore doms in the bedroom. (Yandere AU anyone??)

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves.

[mockerycrow]

ON MY MIND (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; you wear kyle’s hoodie and he’s forced to confront some suppressed emotions.

[WARNINGS; gaz is a smoker & is emotionally weary, fluff!]

“Kyle!”

His head tilts a bit from the call of his name, muffled and frustrated. His eyes focused on the glass plate in his hand, his other hand scrubbing the thing with an overly-used sponge. “Yeah?” He calls back, only turning his head by his left shoulder a tad bit so you can hear him better as he’s assuming you’re not near the kitchen.

Kyle hears you shuffling around, your shoes scuffing against the floorboards. You don’t respond for a second, but Kyle knows you’re focused on.. Whatever you were doing. He puts the soapy plate in the other side of the sink in the next tub, reaching for the next dish. However, his sleeve slips down his arm a bit, getting wet and soapy. “Ah..” He cringes out loud, his lips pulling uncomfortably as he uses two fingers to tug the now wet sleeve back into place.

Kyle hears your footsteps approach from the next room, causing him to tilt his body so he can keep his wet hands over the sink whilst also looking at you. You enter the room with a frustrated look upon your face, your eyebrows furrowed and your lip curled ever so slightly curled. Kyle chuckles, unable to help himself at how pathetic you look at the moment and he knows it’s not over anything important. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, already amused.

You’re holding up one of Kyle’s hoodies, one the ones that has his last name sprawled across the back. He blinks for a moment before you begin to speak. “I gotta run to the corner store real quick and all of my hoodies are still damp in the dryer,” You exclaim, putting the hoodie down a bit so you can look at him. “Do you mind if I wear your hoodie to walk down there?” 

Kyle’s lips purse for a moment, a weird sensation manifesting in his chest cavity as he thinks about wearing his hoodie. “Go ahead, don’t need you getting sick, yeah?” Kyle utters as he turns back to the sink, pinching the front of his shirt and pulling it from his chest as if it’ll ease the sensation. “Sick! Thanks, Kyle. You want anything?” You ask, quickly pulling the hoodie on, adjusting the sleeves.

Kyle’s back is to you as he grabs another dish, mindlessly cleaning it. “‘Course, sweetness. Grab me some crisps, won’t you?” He says, putting the.. clean(?) dish into the other side of the sink on top of the soapy plate. “Yep, I got it. Bye, Ky!”

The door shuts.

Kyle blinks, staring at the soapy water with the tightness in his chest remaining, even after your exit. He sighs slowly, pushing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes—then he shouts, because now soap is in his eyes. “Shitshit—” He hisses, quickly turning on the faucet to wash his eyes out.

Kyle never asked for his hoodie back—a part of him expected for it to appear folded on his bed, washed and taken care of and the other part wished he never saw it again except for you wearing it. You always seemed to lose your hoodies after that, or you went through your collection much faster than you previously had. Neither of you pointed it out, especially Kyle. He was quite alright with a couple of his hoodies disappearing conveniently right at the times you were planning on leaving for a store, or just an outing in general.

Something sickly sweet twists in Kyle’s gut when he sees you wearing his hoodie. It’s something clawing at his insides, gnawing at his bones—energy that makes him want to bash his head into the wall and he isn’t completely understanding why. The second he sees you wearing one of his hoodies, especially the ones with his name on it.. It’s like a little feral squirrel in his body goes wild. 

Kyle turns in his bed, groaning softly as he rubs his hand over his face, trying to focus on the coolness of his sheets as he rolls over. He thinks about Soap and Price, thinking about the night where you embarrassed him in front of his mates. Kyle stares into the darkness of his room as he thinks about how proud you seemed to be after making them laugh—how you seemed to beam at him after sharing a reassuring look.

“Bloody hell.” Kyle mumbles, his words muffled as he turns his face against the warm of his pillow, his breathing harsh for a moment. A pleasant warmth trickles into his chest as he thinks about his missing hoodies. How he isn’t able to help the giddy smile on his face when he sees you walk through the door, coming home wearing something with his name on it. His. His. His.

Kyle lifts himself from his bed, grunting as his feet hit the cold floor. He patters across the floor, quietly exiting his bedroom. Kyle’s heart thumps harshly against his chest. He shakes his head and gently slaps his cheeks as he walks down the hall towards the living room and kitchen, trying to rid himself of these thoughts—of thinking of you like that. He pauses for a moment when he hears the television on, playing at a low volume. Kyle slows his footsteps as he makes his way past the hall, coming into the living room.

The television is gently illuminating the room and he hears you before he sees you. You’re sleeping on the couch, your favorite blanket sprawled across your lap, your back and head supported by the stupid throw pillows Kyle insisted that you two needed for the couch. Your head is tilted down in a position that looks slightly uncomfortable, your lips parted—wearing his hoodie.

Kyle stares for a minute, his eyes softening as he leans forward, his fingers gentle as he takes your head in his hands and slowly but surely, adjusts the positioning of your head. Kyle watches the way your eyebrows furrow for a moment, your lips pressing back together closed. His lips twitch into a soft smile as he watches you shift in your sleep, your face leaning more into his palm.

Kyle’s heart stops for just a second before he brushes the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, your skin hot under his touch. So warm and full of life.

His chest tightens again and Kyle carefully pulls his hand away from you, his feet quick as he grabs his cigarettes and lighter from the counter near the backdoor, escaping out the back to forget about what his feelings truly mean.

🏷️; @kivino @mlmxreader @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @abigatorchomp @s8nsbride @talooolalolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff

this is from my overall taglist which you can find here. if you would like there to be a roommate!gaz taglist, comment below! mistakenly tagged/wrongly tagged? let me know, no hard feelings.

[charliemwrites]

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.