#kyle garrick x you

[celestialwhoree]

whilst I'm hyperfixating on dolls, thinking about protective childhood best friend Gaz💕🎀

His feelings had started off strictly platonic, protective over the quiet girl next door, who barely spoke up in class, and was generally an outcast due to her being perceived as 'weird' for enjoying picking flowers as to playing sports, and trawling antique shops instead of partying.

As you'd grown up alongside each other, that sentiment had only strengthened. He still so vividly remembers the day he came home to you sat on his porch step, a broken doll, a Blythe that you'd spent hours customising with such love, broken to bits. He'd obviously done the rational thing - spent weeks working in his dad's garage to fix her up, getting his mum to help him sew her teeny tiny dress back up, even asking around the pharmacy for if they sold 'those stick on eyelashes', to the amusement of most of the Boots staff.

To this day, he credits your prompting, and his mums patience for his emergency suturing skills. And Blythe, of course.

He's since made a habit of contributing to your collection, somehow acquiring originals from the seventies still in their boxes, or buying customs that you're sure sell for copious amounts of money. He wasn't there to protect you and your precious doll once, so he'll be sure to make up for it every day since. There's no weirdness about it either. To him, it's cute.

However, when you'd started dating...

Of course, he still had no problem with the collection of little you's on various shelves throughout the house. Save for the bedroom Blythe, lingering on the dresser like some freaky, big headed little guardian angel, who he's convinced is sending him bad juju every time he tries to get nasty with you. Her creator. Mary Shelley type shit.

It becomes second nature for him to turn her around as soon as the two of you go stumbling into the bedroom.

And he begs you to put her in the closet when you go to sleep.

Turns out your SAS boyfriend who's been supporting your collection for years is fucking scared of dolls.

Kyle 'gaz' 'bad Blythe bruja' Garrick

[lxvvie]

having messy, sloppy, sensitive sex with kyle mf garrick (to the point of crying) with jhené aiko's stay ready as the bgm (descends into madness) im very normal about this guy 😔

Kyle Garrick's fingers intertwined with yours, clutching them tight as he fucks you to oversensitivity. Fuck, he's not even thrusting so much as he is grinding against your sweet spot, making you see stars, tears hanging on your eyelashes.

Kyle who kisses your temple and tells you, "One more, darling," as you whine and shudder and tell him how you can't do it you can't cum again Kyle please, you can't—

Kyle who whispers, "Yes, you can," before slow-stroking you dumb. Again.

[v1x3n]

[thebeesatemyknees]

141 as ex-husbands

Some ex-husband (ooc) Simon Ghost Riley, John Price, Kyle Gaz Garrick and Johnny Soap MacTavish x reader headcanons.

Word count: 860 || No warnings (let me know if any). || Reader: gender neutral. Pronouns: "you"

Note: In all four scenarios, you got divorced for fairly harmless reasons. You were getting along, you loved each other, there was no fighting. But perhaps you realised that you both have different hopes for the future. Maybe you got sick of waiting for him, missing him, of worrying if he's gonna come home alive and in one piece. Maybe he didn't realise how lonely you felt beside him.

Ex-husband Simon Riley, who still thinks of you as "his", but not in a possessive way. You're still his person, his family. He still would do anything for you and wouldn't even give it a second thought. 

You need help assembling new furniture? He can come by after work. Need a ride to the doctor's appointment? He needed to run some errands anyway, it's not a big deal. Anything happens while he's deployed? You can call his base and he'll contact you as soon as possible.

And he doesn't expect anything back. How could he? He's gonna do anything for you because that's what you're supposed to do for your people. And he'll give you your space, keep it clean between you. You wanted a divorce and he respects that, doing his best not to overstep any boundaries. He's mindful of the things he says, keeps his hands away from you. A respectful distance.

But God, does he miss you. If you showed the slightest interest in getting back together, he would agree immediately, going back to what you two had, as if the divorce never happened. 

Ex-husband John Price, who kinda forgets that you're not married anymore. Similar to Simon, John still thinks of you as his and would do anything for you without expecting anything back. 

But you often have to remind him that he's overstepping. "Darling" or "love" casually added to his sentences. Hands gently holding your shoulders or hips while he directs you to move to a different spot. He doesn't do it on purpose. The last thing he'd want is to disrespect your boundaries or make you uncomfortable. But keeping you close just comes so naturally to him.

He apologises quietly when you reprimand him, pulling his hands away and restating what he said without the pet name this time.

He wouldn't beg you to give him another chance. He's got enough respect, towards you and himself, to not be dramatic, to not make it messy. But he has a hard time accepting this new reality.

Ex-husband Kyle Garrick, who subconsciously goes back to courting you, as if your marriage never happened and all of it was still ahead of you. 

He's more distant, doesn't initiate touches, doesn't use pet names anymore. And at first you think it's because that's just how break-ups work, because he'd moved on. But it all seems to be caused by him suddenly becoming almost shy around you. 

He sends you messages from time to time, checking if you're doing alright. He asks you out for coffee, just to catch up. You ended things on good terms, so there's no harm in it, right? And you can see him trying to act casually about it. He brings you one singular flower he picked on his way to the café. Cuz you like them, don't you? It's not a big deal, he saw it and put it in the pocket of his jacket. So casual. Then, your conversation stays on a purely platonic path. Well, except for a few compliments and pick up lines he throws your way. But that's what friends do! And if you don't let him drive you home, he asks you to at least text him to let him know you got back safely.

If you confront him about his behaviour, he gets quiet. His jaw twitches, a shameful look fills his eyes as he looks away, unable to fully face you. He doesn't feel like he's in the position to defend himself, to argue. He's guilty. He wants you back for himself. And he so badly regrets letting you go without trying harder to fix things.

Ex-husband Johnny MacTavish, who becomes bitter towards the whole world. He's not happy about losing you and he's straightforward about it. He's hurt, filled with regrets, he's angry - but not directly at you. He understands and respects your wishes, but he's just so angry with himself. Angry that he didn't notice where your marriage was going, that he didn't change his ways, that he assumed that you're his and therefore he's got a lot of time to slowly fix things. Angry that he didn't do enough. 

He wouldn't hide his emotions. He wouldn't get shy,  wouldn't just quietly yearn for you. 

He keeps his hands to himself, making sure he doesn't make you uncomfortable and that you still feel safe around him. But he continuously asks you for another chance. He knows better now. He can be better. Just give him a chance. Or at least let him do this or that for you. And don't act as if him helping you is weird! He's yours, nothing will change that. He promised he'd be there in sickness and in health, and he meant it. No matter how much your life-paths split. So stop pushing him away and just let him help. He'll stop asking you for a second chance, but at least let him be there for you.

He aggressively offers himself to you. Getting upset and moody if you act as if he was more akin to a stranger rather than someone who belonged, body and soul, to you.

[alwaysshallow]

kyle gaz garrick who, while fake dating you, gets you lots of stuff. insists on you "temporarily" living in his apartment, so the facade will be... easier. you weren't in a relationship before, so he wants you to accommodate with everything.

you're absolutely bamboozled and not really convinced to this idea, but it makes sense. it does, and you desperately want to convince your brother and all of your family that you actually are in a relationship. just for the wedding.

so, you agree and take your stuff to his place. everything seems alright, you two are getting along despite the awkwardness because he's basically in love with the idea of walking around apartment half naked; and you choke on whatever you have every time. it's hard not to drool, but you manage, ignoring playful twinkles in his eyes.

until your parents visit you and him in the morning hours; and kyle literally shoves you into his bed, and opens the door for them in boxers because that should do the trick.

i don't need to say how your father looks at him after this lmao-

[sprout-fics]

Poly TF141 x Omega! Reader

(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)

(Part Twelve: Pillow Princess)

Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Poly TF141, Slow burn, Heat cycles, Smut, Beta! Gaz x Omega! F Reader, Date outings, Courting gifts, Cuddling, Service Top Gaz, PiV sex, Praise kink

Masterlist

You get a text from Gaz a few days later

“Shopping date? :)” 

You look despairingly at the mountain of intelligence reports Price has dumped on your desk for mandatory reading, and the thought of playing hooky has never been so appealing 

“Can you sneak me out?” You send back, and imagine Gaz’s mischievous little smile at the request

“I think I can manage something.”

Half an hour later and with Price occupied by a convenient distraction, you’re dressed in civvy clothes as Gaz drives down the highway, humming along to music on the radio

You sneak a side glance at him, seeing the pleased tug of his lips, his worn blue cap shading his gaze from the afternoon sun. You look away before he can catch you, shift a little in your seat with a rush of affection and shyness

You’re not sure where he’s taking you, and are entirely surprised when he parks in front of a home goods and furniture store

“Gotta make sure our girl is all set up for her heat.” He explains as he opens to door for you, one hand at the small of your waist as he escorts you inside and directly to the pillow and blanket aisle

Your self consciousness fades away the moment you lay eyes on the wealth of throws and pillows, gleefully holding each item aloft for his approval. You relish the way his eyes light up, boyish smile curved up towards his ears at your clear delight

You take turns consulting over various blankets and pillows, discussing textures and sizes. When you shyly toss a stuffed bear in the shopping bin, Gaz retrieves it and imitates an impression of Price’s surly tone that makes you giggle behind your hands

It doesn’t take long for the shopping cart to fill up, and as you retrieve your wallet Gaz beats you to the punch and swipes his own card much to your surprise

“Consider it a courting gift.” He tells you with a knowing smile, and even the cashier seems taken aback by his statement

By the time you haul the bags back up to your room you’re both exhausted, flopping on your bed amidst the cushions and blankets with jokes and laughter and forms pressing together

“I’m glad I did this.” He confesses to you when you lay on your sides, face to face. “We all want you to feel comfortable with us.”

Your eyes soften at that, at the gentle entreaty from the sergeant that speaks volumes as to his care for you. This profound gesture says so much about him, you realize

He’s the gentleness that abates the primal instincts of his mates, the soothsayer that sees the things that need to be done and tries to quietly undertake them. The endearing warmth of him charms his way into your heart, tempers the men around him into a tenderness shared by them all. 

If Price is the sharp, protective gaze that watches over his mates, Gaz is the gentle, nuzzling touch that reminds them that they’re home.

It’s with a tender smile that you roll over onto Gaz, only to shiver at the hunger clear in his smiling stare as he gazes up at you

“Look at you.” He murmurs gently, raising a hand to cup your face with beloved tenderness. “Pretty omega.”

His eyes are blown dark with desire, the clear indication of his arousal hidden only by the knowing tug of his smile

“Heard Soap treated you well.” He murmurs huskily, stroking calloused knuckles against the soft flesh of your cheek. “Wish I could’ve been there to see it.”

Your eyes flutter shut at that, a sudden rush of arousal racing southward and alighting your spine with desire. You brace above him, feel his chest rise against yours as he finally whispers: “Can I kiss you?”

You lower yourself to his mouth as an answer, feel him sigh against your lips until you part with a small, wet noise

“You can do more than that, Kyle Garrick.” You offer coquettishly, and feel the electricity of his grin travel up the length of your spine

You giggle when he flips you under him, hauling you to him as you fall into a tangle of limbs and gasping little breaths. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe, pauses between breaths with little offerings of endearments and affectionate rasps

“Feel good? Yeah? You should see yourself, see how gorgeous you are, doll. We’re so so lucky.”

It makes you squirm under him, a little overwhelmed, but he merely chuckles and winds his fingers with yours, nuzzles against your scent gland to leave a reminder of himself there

When you feel arousal trickle down into your panties, he pulls away and inhales de

“Nuh uh” He teases, gently pinning your wandering hands to either side of you in the pillows. “Been wanting this for ages, pup. Gonna take my time with you.”

And he does. Gaz is slow and thorough as he appreciates every part of your body that’s revealed to him. Your hazy eyes rake greedily over the expanse of his chest, a touch of coiling dark hard on display between his pecs. When you place your hand over it, you feel his heartbeat

You squirm when his hands find the bare dip of your waist, ticklish and sensitive. Your fangs scrape gently on your lower lip, a tell-tale sign of your arousal, and when you look up you see Gaz is the same

He hasn’t stopped smiling

When Gaz at last makes his way between your legs and you pant at him “Gaz, please, need you-” He swipes his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick there that pools as a tell tale sign of your arousal. You don’t expect him, however, to lift his fingers to his lips and suck.

“Christ, Gaz-” You mewl, throwing a hand over your face abashedly. 

“So sweet.” He purrs, and when you whimper, feel your legs clench he only tuts at you. “Don’t worry doll, gonna make you feel good.”

“Then get on with it.” You hoarse, only for your voice to crack in your throat as he spreads you open on his fingers

Just like the rest of you, Gaz takes his time finding the part of you that makes your breath stutter in your chest, makes you whimper and claw the sheets as white-hot pleasure laces through your veins. He’s disassembling you, putting you back together, instrumentally taking you apart to find the thing that makes you tick

You’re helpless against it, and every time you try and reach for him, encourage him, try to even kiss him, Gaz only hushes you back into the pillows with a deep, rumbling purr that scratches at your hindbrain

“Just let me take my time.” He tells you, nips at the inside of your thigh cheekily. “Sweet pillow princess.”

“I’m not a p-pillow p- A-ah! Fuck…” You try, with no success, at last resigning yourself to his ministrations 

When Gaz is finally satisfied with your entirely debauched state, he at last frees himself with a relieved sigh. He’s long, slightly curved, flushed a dark shade of pink at the top in a way that makes your mouth water

“Are you sure?” He asks again as he kisses you, and he hums in satisfaction when you give him an eager nod, chest rising and grazing your nipples against the soft tickle of hair on his chest. “Tell me to stop if you need to. Want to make sure you feel good.”

He’s slow as he sheathes himself inside you with little resistance, and you throw your head back into the pillows, groan openly at the warm, pressing fullness of him that stretches you comfortably around his girth. When you gasp his name, he’s quick to breathe it in, pressing fluttering kisses onto your cheeks with reverent reassurance

He’s achingly tender with you, pausing between breaths to check once more, asking you again and again and you distantly realize it feeds his ego to see you get impatient with him, glassy eyes and brow scrunched and ordering him to move-

Yet when Kyle snaps his hips forward, your biting little pleas die down to soft mewls as he finally delivers the delicious friction you’d been aching for. You open up gentle and sweet for him, relishing the scarcely contained groans and pants he showers down on you with endless, sweet praise

“Feel so good, sweetheart. Taking me so well. Feels like I’m losing my mind-”

You flush under his endless endearments, feeling the rough rasp of his voice travel straight downwards to the joining of you both. You arch against him, urge him deeper, and Kyle is more than happy to oblige

Eventually his words drop off into quick little pants and groans, arms shaking as he braces himself over you, chest rising and falling quickly with uneven breaths

The sounds are enough to undo what little restraint you have left, wet, gasping sounds that drop from his chest breathlessly, dog tags swinging between you both

“S-shit, it’s good. Hah, yes- fuck. Just like tha- hnmng-”

He fits seamlessly into you, and you clench eagerly around him with every precise, rolling push of his hips. When he at last finds the bundle of nerves that makes you gasp wetly, he hones in on it, relishes you writhing under him in unrestrained desire

His sweaty forehead is braced against yours, pausing to deliver eager, passionate kisses and then pulling back so you can see his beautiful russet brown irises eclipsed with dizzying desire. The mere gaze of him swoops low in your belly and settles between your thighs, culminating in the desperate wheeze of his name as you cling to him, the intense and slow roll of your orgasm pulsing through you

When it abates, you realize he’s still pulsing inside you, achingly hard and desperately breathing through the squeeze of you on his cock, arms shaking with the effort. 

“Fuck me.” He wheezes when your arms loosen, and you laugh breathlessly, press a nipping kiss to the underside of his jaw

“I just did.”

He pulls back from you, and your heart flutters at the sudden wickedness of his grin

“Sweet omega.” He purrs, depositing back so you’re flat against the bed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

It feels like hours later when he finally pulls away from your boneless form, face down in the sheets and clutching limply at your bedding. You’re weighed down with blissful aftermath, warm and sated and just a touch fuzzy around the edges. It’s not a whiplash exhaustion like it is with Soap, but more a slow, gentle release that drags every part of you into total, soft content that leaves you heavy and sated

Gaz lays at your side, trails a hand from the swell of your ass up to your shoulder over and over again. He doesn’t need to ask anymore if you’re satisfied, judging by the all too pleased sprawl of his smile. Instead he continues to shower you with kisses, the tickle of his mustache prickling against your skin as he moves you so he presses himself flat to your back, a mess of heavy, tangled limbs. The pillows are strewn around you, and you know his beloved scent will linger on them for a time to come, will cradle against your dreams

You think, in all his breathless endearments, that he’s said all that needs to be said. Yet when he nuzzles against your scent gland once more with a purr, it’s the aching affection of his words that guide you to blissful rest in his arms

“Going to treat you right, sweetheart” He whispers lovingly, soft enough to make your chest flutter with untamed emotions. “Promise.”

Taglist:

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[witchthewriter]

Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust

Okay so... I was making up scenarios in my head as I was falling asleep last night and I made myself cry ... so I obviously had to share...

Poly141; the four men are your husbands and all deployed at the same time, leaving you home with your three kids at the beginning of the school holidays.

This turned out longer than I thought it would but I just had to write it out. I love Poly141 AND them being dads :')

Da = Johnny

Papa = John P.

Dad= Simon

Daddy = Kyle

School holidays had just started, and your three pups were buzzing as soon as they came home. Bags were thrown on the floor, school shoes unlaced and scattered around the shoe stand. They knew the rules, but first day of school holidays meant they were allowed to get a little wild.

Your oldest, Paesha, had just turned eight and her father was obvious. Thick curls, dark skin and warm brown eyes made it plain to see. But all your husbands loved her the same. In fact, she had a special bond with her Da (Johnny).

Malachai, your second, could have been any of the three other men's. Light brown hair, fair complection, and utterly/overly protective of his sisters. He had been born a year after Pae.

And your youngest, Felicity (known as Flick), had started her first year in big school. She was known for having exceptional blue eyes.

None of your husbands wanted a DNA test, they thought it useless because everyone treats the children with the same love, compassion and warmth.

Throwing your keys on the counter (Paesha picked them up and placed them on the hook). You rubbed the bridge of your nose and tried to quell the longing in your soul. You didn't know if it was worse when the kids were gone or with you. Being completely alone let the terrible thoughts attack but you didn't want your kids to miss out on having their fathers'.

Calming the oncoming tears, you turned around and asked, "who wants pizza for dinner?"

"YES!" Yelled Mal, a fist punched in the air. Paesha nodded her head enthusiastically while Flick did a little happy dance.

Paesha halted and squinted at you, "Not homemade right?"

After dinner arrived, the four of you sat on the large dark green couch. Your two ex-military dogs, Moth and Teddy, sat on either end of the lounge.

Turning onto the streaming service, you found the exact movie you were looking for. The 2003 version of Peter Pan.

With the lights off (except for the kitchen, the kids were still scared of too much darkness), you watched as one of your cats jumped into Pae's lap. Barnaby started purring instantly. His fluffy white tail settled around his body.

The seven of you settled in. Your four human babies snuggled up to their mama, smiles already on their faces.

When the movie had finished, your kids still wouldn't go to bed.

"Oh wait, I know why it isn't working - we don't have the pixie dust!" Flick pulled on your sleeve with a huge gap-toothed smile.

You had been watching as they jumped around the room. Lights flicked on, bodies flinging from one couch to another.

"I know! But ... we don't have any in the house..." You grumbled.

Paesha was staring dreamily at Peter Pan, a cheek resting against her face. "Where do we get some?" Her head turned slightly to look at you, her eyes nearly heart-shaped.

"Ugh-" god trying to keep childlike wonder alive was bloody difficult. Like a sign from the Universe, your phone started to ring.

All three kids ran over to it, knowing exactly who was calling at this time of night. Swiping the screen, four familiar faces popped up.

"Da! Papa! Dad! Daddy!" Smiling through the screen, the men had been just as eager to see their kids as their kids were to see them.

"Hello little munchkins, ya been good for mum?" Simon greeted first. His mask was off and no black could be found around his eyes. He never showed that side to the children.

"We're going to fly!" Flick chirped, her arms outstretched and running around.

"You're - what?" Price said with a slightly panicked face.

"But we need pixie dust," Malachai explained. Shaking his head like this was obvious information.

"I introduced them to the ... live action Peter Pan," you explained and a smile of regret grew on your tired face.

"Oh honey," Kyle replied, understanding the situation. He was the first of the men to.

"But we don't have any and we have to go buy more!" Pae said while leaning against you.

"Eh, pixie dust ...?" you heard Johnny mumble in the background.

"Oh! I have an idea!" You said with a faked expression, "why don't the Dada's get us the pixie dust!"

The chorus of cheers was heard throughout the house. Alerting the the tired Moth and Teddy.

Kyle shook his head. And Price's nose flared. Mum: 1 - Dads: 0.

"We'll bring back the goddamns finest," Simon said. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"See! You heard Dad! Now get your butts' upstairs and in bed."

"Yes ma'am!" They said in unison (a nickname they'd heard their father's use one too many times.)

Once the kids were upstairs, your face dropped.

"I miss you guys," you whispered into the phone. The tears welling and spilling down your cheeks.

"We miss you too," John said, his words strangled with his feelings.

It was always hard to hang up.

It hurt.

But tonight's farewell felt like the hardest. You could just imagine how the scenario would've played out if their father's were there with them. With you.

'Can't always get what we want,' you thought bitterly.

"Not long now," Kyle said. You stared at his eyes and then his lips. God how much you wanted to kiss him.

"You better make sure you bring back some fucking pixie dust or there'll be a riot."

"Aye, Laswell definitely knows someone-" Johnny replied, giving you a wink. "Miss you gorgeous." He always tried to uplift the mood. And it nearly always worked.

You fought out of your misery, knowing the four soldiers couldn't bear to see you upset. And as they said their goodbyes, you said so in return.

"We love you, our precious wife. We'll all be together soon."

[b1rds3ye]

Cod men with an so that has a kink for their gear/uniform …thats all

Anon you are SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE at this rate my obsession for people in uniform is unhealthy but it IS WHAT IT IS ✌️(only price and gaz for this one tho, my brain just ain’t braining for ghost and soap 😩😩)

In Uniform

Characters: Captain John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions

Word Count: 1.4 (~700 each)

Genre: Fluff, Smut 18+/MDNI, established relationship

Warning: Smut, 18+/MDNI, No overly dom/sub themes I don’t think? riding + worship (Price), thigh riding (Gaz), if I miss anything, let me know

A/N: This is the spiciest I've ever written (it pales in comparison to the filth I read but reading vs writing is a whole different story WRITING THIS WAS SO HARD ARGH-)

Captain John Price

Price is not blind. For the sake of professionalism, he doesn’t comment on it, but he can’t help but feel smug when he notices how your eyes trace his chest rig. How it looks almost too small with how it hugs to his chest, the straps that wrap over his shoulders emphasising his thick arms and broad torso. How the extra gear he has to equip gives his already large chest more volume

He will never sacrifice practicality and comfort over visuals on a mission… but if he knows he should just be wandering around base he may just tighten the straps of his gear a little more than usual just so it hugs his form better when he meets you. Just because he’s in a stable relationship with you and a high ranking soldier doesn’t mean the captain can’t have some fun and a little ego boost!

Still, Price is reluctant to test the extents of your uniform kink. His uniforms are often filthy and he can’t imagine anything more repulsive than some crusty blood of the enemy staining the pure haven that is your shared bed. Even after they’re cleaned, there’s a lingering concern that they’re not clean enough

But if there’s anything that John is weak to, it’s you with your hopeful eyes and sweet smile. He’ll triple clean his uniform and he’s ready to for it to join the confines of your bedroom

Even under you, Price prides himself on his restraint. He hasn’t lost the image of a commanding captain, still fully dressed save for the fly of his cargos pulled down just enough to free his cock that is now buried in you. The rough fabric of his cargos leave a pleasant burn against your bare thighs, but it’s nothing compared to the pleasant burn of John stretching you out. You want to move your hips faster, to have him hit the parts you know he can hit perfectly. But no, this night will be slow, cherishing the delicious sight below you.

You shift slightly and you whine at the impossible fullness from within. Distracting yourself from the intoxicating pain you drag your hands along his chest rig. Prying and slipping your fingers into every crevice and bend of straps and pockets, they twitch as an odd aftershock washes through your body. Under your palms John’s chest lifts with every heavy breath. Pressing them flat against his stomach as it deflates, you exhale with him as your relaxing body adjusts to him filling up your every crevice.

John’s hand creeps up to curl around one of your wrists. The plastic coating of his gloves offers a foreign coolness that has your body jolting and you whine as goosebumps coat your burning body.

“Didn’t know you had such a thing for men in uniform,” he simpered, his other hand down to rest on your hip. He idly massages at the plush skin, fingers digging deep down into the layer of muscle. Tilting into his touch, you try and contort yourself to get his hand a little closer to where you’re most sensitive, just that little bit more but he doesn’t relent, his moustache and beard now slightly curved as he watches you with amusement.

“Only you,” you whisper and his next breath is hefty and rugged, accompanied with a satisfied hum that reverberates through his entire being.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Only me.”

You pull your hands back up to his chest rig, you slip your fingers under the securing straps and take a firm grip. Hands dangerously close to his throat, John’s Adam apple instinctively bobs in anticipation.

“Getting handsy, are we?”

“Just need a bit more,” you mutter absentmindedly. You stare at him with blown out eyes. “Can I?”

“Do as you wish.”

Using your grip on his rig, you pull your hips further, feeling him deeper, harder. His hands immediately find purchase on your hips to steady you as you tremor at the new sensation. He only moves with you, his hips offering the faintest of encouragement as he slightly drives them up into you. Once you manage to set a rhythm above him the captain sounds near unrecognisable as he stifles a groan with every tug against his gear.

“Fuck. Just like that, darling.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is attentive to you, so he is aware of how your eyes scan his body when he walks past. He never thought that his uniform was particularly attractive or attention-grabbing since literally everyone else wears it, but he’s glowing upon noticing that he can entrance you over what’s merely his day-to-day gear

In low stakes situations, this man is teasing you to hell and back. Not directly though, he’ll never explicitly say he knows you have a thing for his uniform, but just before a mission he’ll have you double checking if his chest rig and gear are firmly secured to his body. Of course, they won’t be, and he’ll ask you to tighten the straps, discreetly flexing the respective body parts all the while

Now you can tell when Kyle’s horny. Instead of immediately shedding his gear to wash up and relax with you, he’ll only get rid of weaponry and any contents in his various pockets but the gear and uniform stays on in a (not so) discreet attempt of getting you just as riled up as he is

“Shit, you look so good.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh that morphs into a sigh as you grind your hips against his thigh. Through the flimsy fabric of your underwear, you swear you can feel everything against you. Each individual fibre of his cargo pants, the ridges of the seams. Even through the fabric you can feel the soft swells of his muscular thigh that you’re seated on.

“You should take a look at yourself,” you praise breathlessly.

Even with clothes on, Kyle looked hot as hell. Still in his gear, it made the slivers of his skin that revealed themselves all the more tantalising. His half-unbuttoned shirt revealing skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Sleeves haphazardly shoved up the arm to reveal his lean forearms, veins pulsating with lust as they hold onto your hips like a lifeline.

“Caught you staring earlier,” he mutters. With those godly arms he wraps them around your back, forcing you to lean into him, sweaty forehead against his.

“Thought you were worried about me, but it was really you I should have been worried about.”

His words are lost on you and he only smirks as your hips move forward and back and forward again with reckless abandon. Each drag of your hips getting more exaggerated, more forceful as you strain against Kyle’s arms that selfishly pull you taut to him.

“Let me… move, dammit,” you huff as you struggle to move in his hold.

“What? Is it bad that I want to be close with the love of my life?” he offers an innocent laugh but his eyes are still trained down to where your hips rhythmically meet his thigh with sinful movements.

Grinding your hips, you grunt unexpectedly as a pointed intrusion brushes against your clothed sex, nipping at where it was most sensitive. Christ, Kyle must’ve forgotten to take out a spare magazine in his cargo pockets. The edge of its hard metal giving a delicious contrast against his thick, clothed muscle, you experiment, trying a new angle to brush your most sensitive areas with his leftover weaponry.

It sends a wave of electricity through your body that has you jerking a knee up, one that brushes against Kyle’s hard on and he whines. His embrace only tightens as he tries to silence himself with his face buried in your chest.

“Shit- do that again,” his words are muffled against your skin, echoing through your rib cage.

With the next roll of your hips you pull your knee up once again. The stimulation against his dick has him instinctively flexing his thighs, and you tremble at the extra firmness in between your legs, the sensation evoking a sound of pure sin from you.

Kyle rolls his head to the side to rest on your shoulder, his ragged breaths burning against the crook of your neck.

“Please- fuck - do it again, love.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

Call of Duty Masterlist

[ornateorchid]

thinking about poly 141 x reader when you have a bad day at work :/

warnings: fem!afab!reader, one moment of smut (oral f!receiving), fluff, comfort, pet names

It was another one of those days where everything went wrong. You woke up late, spilled your drink in your car, ran into the door, and had to flag down a janitor to unlock your office because you left your keys at home. And that was just in the morning. By the afternoon, you were exhausted and wanted away from everyone. Your boss had assigned another upcoming project and your group is full of the most miserable, insufferable people you could come across. They argued over everything and you just had to sit back and hope they wouldn't make you pick sides.

Usually, you would go home and cry and eat ice cream while watching your comfort movies after a day like this. But your boys were home from deployment, so you knew they wouldn't let that happen.

-----

When you walked through the front door, Simon and John were setting the table while Johnny and Kyle were playing video games in the living room.

"Welcome home, love," Simon said as he gave you a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hey, darling. How was your day?" John asked as he set down the utensils.

You ignored both of them and made a b-line for Kyle and Johnny. Not because you favored them, but because you desperately needed someone to hold you. You climbed onto the couch and buried yourself in Johnny's arms. He paused the game and chuckled as he held you tightly, rubbing your back as you whined.

"Rough day?" Kyle asked, looking at you with concern.

You nodded, holding tighter to Johnny's shirt. You didn't even realize you were crying, but the tears were flowing.

"Wha' happened, bonnie?" Johnny asked, kissing your temple.

"I'm tired," you sobbed. "Today has been terrible."

"Aw, c'mere," Kyle said, opening his arms.

You immediately crawled into his lap and hid your face in his neck, letting him hold you close. Johnny scooted closer and rubbed your back, cooing softly. Simon and John came into the living room, both frowning.

"Everything alright?" John asked, sitting on the other side of Kyle and rubbing your arm.

"Just a bad day, it seems," Kyle said, rubbing your side.

"It was terrible," you cried. "Everyone was arguing. I didn't get enough sleep. And I forgot my keys and couldn't get into my office."

"Sounds like a shitty day," Simon said, coming around and kissing your cheek. "Did you eat?"

You shook your head. "No time," you sniffed. "And I wasn't hungry anyway."

"How about we eat dinner, then we'll get ya a bath and cuddle for the rest of the night, a'right?" Johnny suggested, running his hand along your back.

"That sounds nice," you sighed, relaxing against Kyle.

"Alright, you get some more cuddles while we finish up dinner," Simon said, patting your head.

"You wanna go change into something more comfortable, love?" Kyle murmurs as he presses kisses onto the top of your head. You nod and he carries you to the bedroom, gently setting you on the bed.

He turns around and starts rummaging through the dresser while making small talk. You only give short, one-word answers whenever he asks a question, mostly just listening.

"You wanna know what helps me feel better after a stressful day?" he asks, a smirk on his face. You can't see it since his back is still turned towards you, but you can hear it in the tone of his voice that he's up to no good.

"Hm?" you ask, and he turns around and places a pair of sweatpants and one of Simon's shirts on the bed. He walks closer to where you're sitting on the bed and leans down to your level. "An orgasm," he says quietly. "Only if you want to, of course. It's up to you, love."

On one hand, it sounds nice. But on the other hand, you were tired and didn't feel like doing much.

Almost like he read your mind, Kyle rubs your arm and says, "You just have to lay here and look pretty. You know I love giving."

"Please?" you whine, pouting.

"Of course, sweetheart," he said, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You kissed back, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. He slowly pushed you down onto the bed, settling between your legs.

"Let me know if it's too much, yeah?" he murmured as he unbuttoned your shirt. You hummed in agreement, too focused on the feeling of his lips on your skin. He trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping gently.

His hand snaked their way up to your chest, rubbing and squeezing. His hand slipped inside your bra, cupping and fondling your breast. You moan and arch into his touch, loving the attention.

He kissed and sucked his way down your chest, removing his hand from your bra. He quickly undid the button on your pants, sliding the zipper down. You lifted your hips and he pulled them off, tossing them to the side. He slid his hand under your underwear and cupped your pussy.

"Already wet," he purred, rubbing your clit with his thumb. You moaned softly, hips rocking.

"So pretty, laid out for me like this," he murmurs. "Gonna take care of you, baby."

He hooked his fingers on the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down. Once they were off, he sat back and stared at your naked body.

"So gorgeous," he muttered, leaning down and kissing your pussy. He slowly licked from your entrance to your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

"Such a sweet girl," he murmured, his mouth vibrating against you. He kissed your thigh before sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. He moved further down, leaving hickeys in his wake.

He reached your inner thigh and bit down harder than before, drawing a loud moan from your throat. He soothed the bite mark with his tongue, moving back up.

"Love you," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. He moved down and licked around your entrance, moaning softly. "God, you taste so good," he groaned. "I could do this all day."

You whimpered, gripping his hair. He hummed and slipped his tongue inside, curling and thrusting it in and out. He reached up and rubbed your clit with his thumb, and your body started trembling.

He continued his assault, alternating between licking and sucking at your clit and thrusting his tongue in and out. Right then, there was a knock on the door and John walked in. "Dinner's rea- oh."

He looked surprised, but not angry. Kyle didn't stop, only smirking at John as he continued eating you out. "Well, I guess you're already eating," John said, walking over and rubbing your hip. Kyle hummed, licking your pussy slowly.

"John," you moaned, reaching for him. He smiled and took your hand, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Kyle's taking good care of you, yeah?"

"Mhm," you sighed. Kyle had moved back down, thrusting his tongue in and out as fast as possible. John chuckled, squeezing your hand.

"You like that, huh?" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You nodded your head and moaned loudly, back arching. Kyle hummed and pressed his tongue deeper inside, rubbing his nose against your clit. You came with a cry, gripping his hair. He continued licking and sucking as you rode out your high, slowing down as your body went slack.

"That's a good girl," John said, patting your thigh. He kissed your cheek and stood, smiling "Come join us when you're ready," he said, turning and leaving.

Kyle looked up at you, smiling. "Feel better?"

"Much better," you replied, nodding.

"Good," he said, kissing your pussy once more. He climbed off the bed and helped you get dressed, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

"Love you," he said, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I love you too," you replied, burying your face in his side.

He led you out of the room and into the kitchen, where John was already eating and Simon was pouring drinks.

"Hey, bonnie," Johnny said, smiling. "Feeling better?"

You nodded, blushing. Simon walked over and kissed your cheek, handing you a glass of water.

"Glad to hear it," he said, sitting down next to Kyle.

"You're a sneaky bastard, Garrick," Simon whispers, and leans over to kiss his Sergeant on the mouth.

" 'M well aware, Lieutenant," Kyle smirks. "Couldn't resist the opportunity."

Simon chuckled and shook his head, and John smiled at the exchange.

"Come eat, darling," John said, patting the chair next to him. You sat down, and he kissed your cheek, wrapping an arm around you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, leaning into his side.

"Of course, darling," he said, smiling. "You've had a tough day; you deserve a little extra affection."

You blushed, burying your face in his neck. He chuckled and rubbed your side, kissing the top of your head.

After dinner, the five of you watched a movie. You were curled up in Johnny's lap, his strong arms wrapped around you. Simon's head was in your lap, while Kyle was snuggling with John on the loveseat. You were half asleep by the time the movie was over, and Johnny chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

"Ready for bed, bonnie?" he asked, running his hand along your arm.

"Mhm," you mumbled, cuddling closer to him.

"Let's get you to bed then," he said, scooping you up. You nuzzled his neck, sighing softly. He carried you to the bedroom, setting you on the bed.

"You wanna shower first, lovie?" Simon asked when he walked into the bedroom. You nodded your head, and he smiled.

"Okay, darling. We'll be quick," he said, kissing your forehead.

Once everyone was done showering and changing, they climbed into bed. You were laying on top of Simon, John on one side rubbing your back and Kyle and Johnny snuggling on the other.

"Feeling better?" Simon asked, rubbing your side.

"Much better," you mumbled, resting your head on his chest.

"Good," he said, kissing the top of your head.

John leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek, smiling.

"We're glad you're feeling better," he said, "Get some rest, darling."

"I love you," you said, yawning.

"We love you too," Simon said, and John nodded.

They were asleep soon after, and you followed suit. Today may have started terribly, but the end definitely made up for it.

a/n: GRAHHH i hate the ending but this has been festering in my drafts for weeks and i wanted it OUT.

divider by @saradika

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Kyle "Pretty boy" Garrick who gets absolutely flustered with his goofball of a smile, burying his head into your shoulder. Happens everytime you compliment him with your sweet voice, always finding himself with a habit of covering his smile.

He started doing it when he first admired you, trying to hide how you made him feel, hoping you wouldn't notice and reject him. Now here you are, cradling and kissing your boyfriend's head in a fit of giggles as he playfully whines for you to stop complimenting him.

Happy birthday to our sweet pretty boy who deserves the world!

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld

[v1x3n]

[thebeesatemyknees]

141 AND HOW THEY ARE WITH SOMEONE WHO THEY DISCRETELY AND SECRETLY LOVE. LIKE MAYBE NOR A HIDDEN RELATIONSHIP, BUT MORE LIKE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY LOKE READER BUT READER DOESN'T KNOW. IDKK

141 secretly in love with their friend

Word count: 2k || No warnings || Reader: gender neutral. Pronouns "you"

Simon Riley, who always chooses to sit next to you. It’s not even that he lets you sit next to him, no – he goes out of his way to sit next to you. When you’re hanging out in a pub, with him and a bunch of mutual friends (mostly the rest of 141), he lets you choose a seat while he goes to get your drinks. Once he’s back, he places your glass in front of you and tells you to budge up so he can sit next to you. Though, after a few times, it became a routine and you naturally began to make some space for him. Others also know to leave at least one seat beside you empty. If someone forgets, or isn’t privy to this unspoken rule – Simon slaps their shoulder and wordlessly points to a different chair. And so far, no one’s had the balls to tell him no.

He’s a master of dark humour and dad-jokes, and he tells them no matter what reaction he’ll get. He’s used to people rolling their eyes at his puns, but he doesn’t really care. However, with you? It's different. He closely observes your reactions, taking note of things that genuinely make you laugh and things that seem to make you uncomfortable. He catches himself yearning for your reaction, wanting to make you laugh. While in a pub with friends, he keeps telling jokes and adding sarcastic comments, but does it so quietly that only you can hear them. And when he manages to make you laugh, he has a hard time hiding the proud look on his face.

He gives you the “scary dog privilege” and goes out of his way to make it obvious that you’re under his protection. He’s not possessive nor aggressive towards others, but he can stand his ground and you’d have to be absolutely crazy to willingly get on his bad side. So whenever he’s home, he comes with you to all the places you frequent and makes sure all the regulars see that you’ve got a big, scary-looking man at home. They don’t have to know you’re just friends. Honestly, he’d like everyone to think that you’re together. That would keep all the wrong people, all the creeps away from you – that’s what he tells you after not correcting a stranger who commented on you being a cute couple. He then watches your reaction closely, wanting to figure out how you feel about the idea of being together. Whether he has a chance, or should he back off.

If you playfully flirt with him, he smugly reciprocates. As much as he likes puns, he doesn’t use pickup lines, but his witty, flirtatious comments are enough to make your face feel all hot. And he always tells them in the most deadpan manner possible, while looking at you with a half-lidded, almost lazy, look in his eyes. And he doesn’t look away, wanting to see your reaction. To see the smallest twitch of a smile in the corner of your lips. To see you roll your eyes at him or turn away with a blush creeping on your face. He wants to see if you meant it. If you’re willing to take it further.

John Price, who does a bunch of domestic things with you and for you. He makes your friendship feel as if you’ve been happily married for the past 20 years. He rarely goes back to his own flat, most of the time staying at yours. It started with him popping by for a cuppa or to fix something. Now, however, you go grocery shopping together, he has his own drawer in your wardrobe, you have movie nights that you don’t even have to invite him to. You don’t actually live together, he sometimes stays at his place to keep the sense of normalcy. But then you wake up and find him in your kitchen, sleepily drinking a cup of coffee after letting himself in with the spare key you gave him. Fresh bread lying on the counter next to him, as he scrolls through news on his phone. He greets you and stands up to start preparing breakfast for both of you.

He lets you borrow his clothes. Though, that’s a bit of an understatement. He wants you to wear his clothes. That’s why he started to “accidentally” leave his jumpers and shirts at your place. Once you officially let him have a drawer in your wardrobe, he brings all of his best, most comfortable jumpers, even going as far as spraying them with his cologne, in hopes that you'll find comfort in them while he's deployed. He also keeps an extra jacket in his car, though he only offers it to you if he’s not wearing one himself. He won’t admit it, not even in front of himself, but giving you the jacket he’s been wearing ignites a warm feeling inside his chest.

If you playfully flirt with him, he doesn’t flirt back, suddenly getting more serious instead. He might laugh quietly, but sometimes he looks downright annoyed with your teasing. At least that’s what you think. In reality he’s just worried, overthinking the situation while a sombre feeling sets in the pit of his stomach. He feels like he’s betraying you. Here you are, feeling comfortable and safe enough to joke with him like this, while the only thing he can think of is to make you his.

Kyle Garrick, who takes you out as often as possible. He organises lots of platonic (please end his misery) dates. If either of you wants to check out a new place or simply go to your regular spots, he immediately calls you. Cafes, arcades, shops, parks, galleries, bookshops. At some point, it might make you think that he doesn’t have that many friends, but no. He just chooses to spend time with you over anyone else. While eating out, you often get into arguments over who’s gonna pay the bill. He jokingly tells you that he needs someone to spend the “military money” on, but he really just wants to see you enjoy yourself properly without worrying about the expenses. To see you, being taken care of. And he’d be so damn happy to be the one to do that.

He’s also very attentive to your likes and dislikes. While walking through shopping centres, he takes note of things you seem to want but end up putting back on the shelf. That being said, he’s the best gift giver. And it’s not just expensive gifts. Honestly, he rarely gets you pricey things, worrying that it might overwhelm you. But he doesn’t stop himself from getting you knick knacks, your favourite snacks, or even simply picking some flowers for you when you go on hikes.

While deployed, he sends you short letters, sometimes adding some local sweets as well. He knows it would be much simpler to just text you or call you, which he does, but he believes that handwritten letters are more meaningful. The first time he tells you that, you roll your eyes at him. He then asks, pretending to be deeply offended, if he should stop sending them since you dislike them so much. No matter your response, he’d be sending them anyway. And if he ever finds out that you kept all of his letters tucked away safely in a box somewhere in your room, he will have a hard time hiding the tears welling up in his eyes.

If you playfully flirt with him, his brain short-circuits. The best he can do is huff a laugh quietly and reply with a simple “alright” as he looks away from you, trying to play it cool. He doesn’t flirt back, simply because he can’t. His face gets all hot, sweat suddenly coating his palms. Did you mean it? Are you teasing him? Did you finally find out about his feelings towards you? His heart is just as frantic as his thoughts. He shakes his head and tries to casually change the topic, which only makes him look more suspicious. You, oblivious to his internal torment, probably interpret his reaction as discomfort, which makes you step back and avoid flirting with him again. This, in turn, leads him to even more panic, worrying that he’s lost his chance, as he tries to bring your conversations back on the more flirtatious track.

[Sorry to my Scottish readers, you might feel a bit excluded here. Anyway, Johnny still takes you on a fun road trip!]

Johnny MacTavish, who takes you on spontaneous road trips. If you’re not from Scotland, he takes you there to show you his hometown and places he used to go to with his family when he was a kid. He picks you up and drives north but takes an indirect route, stopping at different locations that interest you. You get stuffed with snacks that he prepared for the road and lose both your voice and your hearing from how loudly both of you sing. Throughout the whole trip, he discreetly takes care of you, casually opening the car door for you, making stops so you can stretch your legs, making sure you’re not getting cold. And so, instead of getting to your destination in seven-ish hours, the trip itself takes you two days. You stop midway and find a decent room in a small inn, ending up sharing it together. He keeps his distance, but he has a hard time stopping his eyes from lingering, finding great pleasure in looking at you getting comfortable and ready for bed. His voice gets low and calm while you talk, letting the late hour lead your conversation towards more meaningful, intimate territory. Next day, once you get to his childhood home, he introduces you to his family, and at some point you catch his mum giving him a strange look. When you ask, he tells you he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. However, what you don’t notice is that he turns away while saying it, trying to hide his reddening face from you. You might be oblivious to his feelings, but his mother figured out that her son is head over heels for you the moment you walked into their house. 

He tries to teach you some Scottish phrases. You don’t really use them, worried that it would sound strange next to your regular, very not-Scottish accent. But then one day it slips out of your mouth. Maybe you got annoyed with him, which wouldn’t be surprising considering how often he teases you. The moment the words leave your mouth, a wide grin spreads across his face. He cheers like a lunatic, picking you up and twirling around with you in his arms. [And let me make myself absolutely clear – even if you’re a bigger person – you’re in the air. All you can do is dangle your legs above the ground and hold onto him for your dear life. His muscles are for practical purposes, not just visual.] 

If you playfully flirt with him, he shamelessly flirts back. With one simple comment, you unleash absolute chaos upon yourself. Hopefully you’ve got more pickup lines up your sleeve, cuz you’ll really need them. To this point, he was keeping himself in check, making sure not to overstep any boundaries. But once you flirt with him, it’s a green light, game on – he’s not stopping anytime soon. He’s a very open flirt too. He’ll use the most cheesy pickup lines on you, a wide smile permanently fixed on his face. Seeing him wiggle his eyebrows at you doesn’t even surprise you anymore. He’s also a rather physical person, so you’ll have to get used to him leaning in and playfully bumping your shoulders or knees together, or constantly resting his arm around the back of your chair.

[criminalamnesia]

so after comparing price/simon to tolerate it, I’ve been wondering what song to compare gaz/johnny to

may I present: Johnny and Gaz giving lover vibes

(also I am working on ending 2 for tolerate it!)

he’s obsessed with you. the first time he saw you, in some dingy little bar he couldn’t believe someone as beautiful as you would be in— he was hooked. hopelessly in love, already throwing back a shot and sauntering over.

you’re alone at the bar, and he thinks that’s a damn shame. tells you that in those words. you laugh, and he cracks a smile— and the conversation starts to flow.

has he known you twenty seconds, or twenty years? there’s a natural spark between the two of you, something that makes it feel as though you hadn’t just met.

he buys you a drink, and before you know it, the two of you are on the dance floor. a slow song is playing, and you smile as his hands find your waist. his grip is gentle, reassuring.

he spins you around and you laugh, throwing your head back as he nearly drops you. by the time the song ends, the two of you are flushed and laughing like newlyweds.

an older woman comes up to you and tells you that you two are the cutest couple she’d ever seen. you play into it, giggling and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek while he slings an arm around your shoulders.

needless to say, he goes home with you that night.

and when you wake up in the morning, he’s still there. standing in his boxers in your tiny apartment kitchen, cooking eggs and brewing coffee.

you swear you fall in love right then and there.

the two of you eat, and the conversation is easy. you almost don’t want him to leave— you have to fight the urge to ask him to stay.

you think it’s a little ridiculous— you don’t know him! but it feels like you do. and you think he feels the same way, because he taps his number into your phone and tells you to call him later to talk about a proper date.

you’re fucking done for.

the first date is perfect. he brings you flowers when he comes to pick you up, and you roll your eyes but can’t hide the blush that rushes to your cheeks.

you swear you’ve never met a man this nice. never gone on a date with someone so kind, so charming. sure, he’s a flirt— but it’s not distasteful. he’s a people person, that’s what he tells you. you believe him.

he pays for dinner, of course, even when you try to pay for your half. he walks you home afterwards, and gives you a kiss goodnight, and you feel like you’re living in a fucking movie.

all your friends think you’re crazy. they start to talk some sense into you— he’s just luring you in! just trying to get in your pants! he’s hiding something!

their words creep into your brain, and the next date you have with him, you’re quieter. more detached, more calculating. and fuck, if your friends weren’t completely wrong.

you go on date after date, and before you know it, you’ve been with him for a year. you’re moving into his flat, and although you know you’ll be home more often than he will, you don’t mind.

when he gets deployed for the first time during your relationship, the honeymoon phase starts to crack. you try to cope with the loneliness; with the boredom that his being away brings. you didn’t realize how much time you spent together until he left.

you call when you can— but it’s not often. he’s somewhere he can’t say, and the cell reception isn’t exactly spectacular. you send letters, and receive a few back, but communication is few and far between.

and then he surprises you one day by bursting through the door, nearly giving you a heart attack as you jumped off the couch.

you scold him as you jump into his arms, complaining “I thought you were a robber! I was prepared to kill you!”

and he just laughed and gave you a kiss.

your life together isn’t perfect. you have fights and disagreements. you refuse to let him meet your friends for the longest time because “they still think you’re playing the long game of deception.”

but you make up because you can never stay mad at each other for long. you finally get your friends to come around to the idea of him, and they instantly hit it off with him once you force them into the same room.

he wrangles his squad into meeting you, and they make sure to embarrass him. (they also love you, and when you excuse yourself to the bathroom, they tell him how happy they are for him.)

“so, you’re the one he never shuts up about, aye?”

he proposes after three years. it seems short to some, but you don’t care. you’ve loved him three summers now, and you sure as hell want all the rest of them, too.

so you get married and it’s nothing huge. an intimate ceremony with family and close friends. his teammates are his groomsmen. they each takes turns spinning you around the dance floor later that night, and they tell you that if he ever breaks your heart, they’ll kick his ass. you throw your head back and laugh.

at the end of the night, after all the guests have gone, he asks you for one last dance.

it’s to the slow song you’d danced to the first night you met so long ago, in that dingy little bar. he spins you around, and you step on his toes because of all the wine, but neither of you care. all you care about is each other.

he’s deployed a week after your wedding, and you hate to see him go, but you’d never put yourself between him and his work. his team promises you they’ll get him back to you safely. you trust them with all your heart.

when he returns months later, he’s sporting new scars and stitches. he’s the most beat up you’d ever seen him, and you hold back tears as you patch him up. only when he’s soundly asleep do you let the tears fall.

but life continues. you make the most of his time on leave, and anxiously await his return on deployment.

and although you would never dare utter the words, you know that the day he doesn’t come back to you is the day a piece of you dies, too.

you didn’t believe in soulmates until you met him.

[puff0o0]

Kyle Gaz Garrick who hides the constant nightmares he has from you.

Ever since the helicopter incident, things have been different for him.

He isn't sure if he's really 'traumatized' as the feelings come and go.

Some days he feels like open spaces are closed in on him and suffocating him

some days he feels like running quickly up the stairs as he feels like he could fall through them any moment

some nights he wakes up with the same memory from where he was upside down and shooting terrorists

Sure, he boasts about it. Who wouldn't? Managing to live to tell the tale and knocking bad guys out all the same time while he was under stress and pressure?

And yet if doesn't stop the adrenaline he felt rushing through him, how he had to push himself aside for a moment and focus on the mission at hand and worry about the situation later

Now he sat on the couch, not wanting to wake you up with something so little, something he could handle

He's a grown man afterall

He had made sure to leave the room as quickly and as quietly as possible and yet you still managed to wake up, feeling the lack of his warmth and just him in general

Tiptoeing your way into the living room before frowning at the sight of your boyfriend with his head in his hands, hunched over in the dark.

You couldn't see a thing yet the pit in your stomach grew and grew with each moment

"Kyle?"

He looked up quickly when he heard your voice. You turned the lights onto see his face, making your frown tug a little lower when you saw how tired he looked

"Shit, sorry. didn't mean to wake you up, love"

You sighed and sat next to him, letting him lay on your chest.

His arms wrapped around your torso as he started to relax when your hand rubbed circles on his back, a comforting silence filled the air as you two enjoyed eachother's company

You didn't expect him to open up to you yet nor did you force him. You just wanted to be there for him in his darkest moments like he always was for you

He buried his face into your shoulder, soon falling asleep there before you started to feel yourself drift off as well

He was unsure of a lot of things, but he was sure of one thing:

You were his light

[starry-eyedblog]

HI LAURY (≧ω≦。) I CAN FINALLY SEND YOU AN ASK AGAIN!!

okay ahem i was thinking about roomates!soap and gaz !! they are like very overly touchy and obsessed with you, literally can't keep their hands off you while you three are on the couch watching a movie. a bit insane and gross sometimes too BUT i love them very much. DO YOU SEE MY VISION HERE!! i don't think i am explaining it well BUT YEAH >:3

ruru!! i'm so happy yer free from jail, vry glad to have you back<3

and omg i'm actually frothing at the MOUTH i see your vision so clearly. why is this so hot?? i actually need them so badly. hope i do the idea justice !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

warnings/tags: roommate! soap x roommate! gaz x reader, non con/dub con, groping, pervy/creepy behaviour, slight manipulation/guilt tripping, mentions of panty sniffing

you had moved into a new flat a few weeks ago, managing to snag a pretty big place for a cheap price. when you saw the amount on the post advertising it online, your eyes almost bulged out of your head and you rushed to contact the owners, which turned out to be two handsome men a few years older than you.

what was not to love of the place? close commute to your work, cheap, spacious and two very good looking men living there too. honestly it felt like a setup but you didn't question it, and your application was immediately accepted.

so in no time flat you were moving in, setting up all your own furniture with the help of both your roommates. and after a week of getting comfortable and your roommates keeping a good distance from you while you settled in, they finally asked you to join in with them on their activities that have always been just for the two of them. the first, was film night.

"every friday night, we have film night. snacks, drinks, shitty films. it's our routine, and now you're here, we thought you should be included." gaz had told you on thursday morning, an easy smile on his face as he stood leaning on the kitchen counter, eating toast in just his plaid pyjama trousers hanging low on his waist with everything else on show. it was very difficult to avoid oogling at his chest as you responded. "so-sounds great, i'll uhm pick up some snacks after work tomorrow." you ushered out.

it's now friday night at half nine and the three of you are huddled up under soft blankets on the pretty spacious couch with you squished in the middle of them. there wasn't any need for them to have their bodies so close to you, but you didn't say anything. gaz had his arm resting on the back of the couch, around your head which made you blush slightly, even though it was just for his own comfort.

you're only fifteen minutes into the film, some popcorn in your hand with eyes glued to the tv when you feel the first touch. it's a big, warm hand pressing at your thigh. you jump, head whipping round to soap who smiles innocently at you. his hand grips your thigh and you whine, stumbling out a response.

"soap, wh-what-?" you try to ask but soap shushes you up quickly, "shh hen, tryna watch the film." he points to the tv with his free hand, no longer looking at you. not even a minute later, another hand coming from the other side of you is now squeezing at the inside of your thigh.

your head whips round to face gaz instead, your eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. "why are y-" before you can get another word out, gaz is also shushing you and instead facing the tv - just like soap.

you try not to think about it too much, as they both seem to be enamoured with the film playing in front of them and uncaring of the fact both of their hands are gripping at your thighs that borderlines on just a wee bit too tight.

as the film continues, you start to forget about the weight of their hands on your thighs but that doesn't last long until both hands are moving again, one going to your front while the other slides back to rest on your arse.

your cheeks instantly flare pink as you sputter out words, trying to ask what they are doing. "ain't doing anythin', you're jus' too sensitive love. keep watchin' the film alright? me and johnny really want you to take movie night serious, can you do that for us?" gaz asks with a pout, guilt tripping you with his adorable puppy face that will soon become a recurring issue for you.

you find your head nodding slowly, eyes turning back to the tv once again as their hands start to fondle you. soap's hand teases at your cunt through your joggers, cupping it every now and then while gaz grabs and almost kneads at the soft skin of your arse, fingers slipping the joggers down enough that he can touch warm flesh.

it doesn't take long for you to be a whimpering mess on the couch, trapped between the two burly men who give you no respite, rough overworked hands fondling you so meanly and roughly, without care for your sensitive body.

"gu-guys the film, i thought you wan-hghh wanted to watch it." you splutter, head rolling back onto the shoulder of gaz who's on your left. "aye we do, so quit yer yapping quien." soap grumbles, leaving a sloppy wet kiss on your neck, eyes not even looking at the tv.

it doesn't take long for gaz's fingers to work their way down your joggers and push aside your flimsy underwear, a dry thumb pressing against your asshole that has you squirming, hips bucking to get away. gaz's other hand keeps you pinned down firmly with no issue, watching the way your mouth falls open to let out confused sounds of pleasure and pain.

as gaz does this at the back of your body, soap fondles with the front of you, hand slipping down your underwear to press at your clit which makes you moan out-loud, eyes fluttering shut. "dove, please. we haven't seen this film before, been waiting awhile." gaz complains, nibbling at your ear and you feel as if all your nerves have been set on fire. the guilt and pleasure swirls through your turned on body, mind starting to become foggy as they continue their groping.

you bite down on your bottom lip harshly, teeth digging into the skin and causing little tears. tiny droplets of blood stain your bottom lip as you sit there like a doll for them, your fuzzy brain desperately trying to focus on the film but at this point any ideas you had about the plot or characters has left you and replaced with the way your body is being groped at by your two new roommates.

soon soap's fingers are slipping past your folds and caressing your hole that seems to grow wet from the touch, even though it's a natural human body instinct, soap takes it that you're enjoying his and gaz's caressing which just feeds into his gross mindset.

"fuck gaz, should feel how wet they are. fuckin' turns em on being groped." soap moans deeply, one thick finger slipping into your wet hole that immediately clenches down on the intrusion. "that so? we picked the right one tav." gaz smirks at his friend, pulling his hands out of your joggers to then shove his dry thumb into your mouth roughly.

"suck lovie." he stated, watching the way your teary eyes didn't move away once from the tv while your mouth gently sucked on the digit. soon he slipped his thumb out and pressed it against your hole once again, but this time he gently started to edge his spit soaked finger inside which had your body flinching. you had never experimented back there, so this was a very new sensation.

"never had anyone back here, eh?" gaz jokes with a mean chuckle which soap joins while thrusting one finger meanly into your tight cunt that leaks around his hand. another finger is soon added, thumb pressing against your clit. you feel absolutely ashamed, your body enjoying the touch while your mind is conflicted.

before you can think much more about how wrong this is, how your roommates have ganged up on you to touch you without any consent, your stomach tightens and your cunt clenches down on soap's two fingers. your asshole pulses around gaz's thumb as your orgasm washes through you and your eyesight blurs from the intensity.

as you whimper and gasp on the couch, hips bucking and writhing to try get away, both men watch in awe as you cum. the film is long forgotten now, playing quietly in the background as it illuminates the room. once your orgasm finally comes to an end, your body slumps back into the couch, eyes half lidded and body limp while your roommates remove their hands out of you.

soap is the first to taste your sweet nectar, long tongue wrapping around his middle finger and sucking off your juices. he moans and pants like a dog in heat as he tastes you on his tongue, and it isn't long before gaz is whining for his turn. soap reluctantly pulls off and rests his ring finger on gaz's plump lips, watching the younger man slowly open his mouth and welcome his finger inside. his tongue laps up the wetness, hips bucking up from need as he drinks down everything he can just off soap's finger.

after a minute, soap is pushing gaz off with a chuckle. "alright calm yersel gaz." he says, and gaz rolls his eyes. "you're just the same." he grumbles quietly before turning to you, smiling at how out of it you are, still limp against the couch.

thankfully both men pull your underwear back up and clean you up, but not without leaving messy hickeys all over your neck and shoulders to claim you as theirs.

and no one needs to know, certainly not you, that through this week of you settling in - where they kept their distance so you were comfortable, they weren't actually keeping faithful to that promise. they already managed to slip a few dirty pants out of your bedroom to sniff and huff at while jerking the other off at late hours into the night, as well as spying on you when showering.

but this was just the start of their creeping on their new pretty roommate.

@bjornthebearguy

@iciclesses

@mothymunson

[konigsblog]

humiliation with mean!gaz...

mean!gaz can't get enough of that upset, shamed expression on your face when he's mocking you for being so needy. a cigarette between his pearly teeth, muttering out degrading words that cause your core to tighten, your back arching further into him, while you sob quietly and apologise for being such a bother to your boyfriend.

calling you greedy, filthy, dirty and a little slag for him to use. :(all while you're bent over in and forced into doggy style, ass in the air and face down into the bedsheets to hush you, your asshole throbbing and pulsating around his shaft from his cruel, forceful thrusts, all you can do is sob into the sheets, attempting to get a grip of dignity and decency as he pushes you down, mocking and taunting you with a frustrated, pissed tone.

he finds joy in that dumb, stunned expression as he spurts thick ropes of hot, milky cum into your slicken, tight hole. your hair being tugged and pulled while you cry, ashamed and embarrassed, while he whispers pure filth into your ear, watching your pretty, tearstained face contort with pleasure and guilt. :(((