#Kyle Garrick x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

groguspicklejar · 6 months

Text

[takes place right after this]

"the rules are simple." Price tilts his head at Blair. "tell us what we need to know and i won't let her cum."

Gaz hates it. bargaining with the fucking scum of the earth. he hates making you suffer the consequences.

his fingers curl inside, touching that delicate nerve inside you. your knees jerk and a sudden gasp punches out from your throat. he does it again and again, biting his lip at the way his fingers glisten even more in your pussy.

you're so pretty, stunning even, when you're high on delirium. and you haven't cum once yet.

"look at her droolin' all over ye." Soap groaned as he watched on, palming himself through his black pants.

"she's so fucking close." Gaz replied, dragging his fingers on your sweet spot. "can feel her clenching around my fingers."

your legs strained against the zip ties, no doubt trying to instinctively close. he wants to eat your pussy, make you gush in his mouth instead. his mouth waters at the thought.

"got nothing to say, Mr Blair?" Price prompts, eyes flickering over to your dazed expression.

the man grits his teeth, eyes filled with violent fury as he looked at you. at how you react to another man's touch. how you welcomed it.

but nothing came out of his mouth. not a lick of information.

"guess that's that." Soap grinned before turning to Gaz. "make her cum, mate."

he was already working on it. digging his fingers deeper, hissing at the lewd sounds that echo into the room. your cunt tightened and creamed his skin as he thrust his fingers faster and harder.

"almost there, bonnie." Soap played with your breast, urging you to the end. your hands gripped the arm rests, your head tipping back, a moan escaping your lips. "tha's it. almost there."

you were right there. right on the edge. Gaz could practically taste your high. your thighs were trembling, your cunt pulsing and starting to spasm until—

"Piccadilly!" your spouse yelled.

Gaz nearly panicked as he ripped his hand away from you, immediately regretting the way you whined and sobbed. Soap cupped your cheek, wiping your tears, trying to comfort you. "i ken, bonnie. s'not fair on ye, is it?"

"in the Tanto building." Blair added, eyes desperately looking to Price.

"you sick bastard." Gaz scowled at him. he suddenly wants to break a few bones. "she was right there, Captain."

Gaz is willing to bet your husband has never made you cum. or even bothered to try. that selfish prick didn't want you getting treated right.

"i know, Gaz. i know." Price patted his shoulder. "Ghost, verify this information."

"i'll make the call." the Lieutenant makes his way out of the room.

Gaz grits his teeth, seething quietly.

"please, please, Gaz..." you begged quietly, pleading eyes, puffy and tear stained.

poor, sweet thing. you deserved so much better than this. you deserve to be cherished and pampered.

but he isn't allowed that at the moment. a deal's a deal. once Ghost confirms where the money is, then you'll be denied what you desperately need.

"i'm sorry, love." he presses a tender kiss against your temple as he stands up. "Captain's orders."

[more mafia!141]

4K notes · View notes

thebeesatemyknees · 8 months

Text

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.

3K notes · View notes

inkbybambi · 8 days

Text

piercings each of the boys have to maximize your pleasure —

soap and gaz with tongue piercings. wicked smiles and sharp teeth, they know exactly how to curve their tongues to graze against your clit, bury their tongues between your folds and eat you out like a man starving. they love when you grip the back of their necks, grind your clit against the ball of their piercing, shaking underneath them and whining at how good it feels.

price with prince albert, thick gauge snug under the head of his cock and peeking out from his slit. he loves when you suck him off, tongue lapping at him like a kitten, so fascinated with the ball, making it shiny with your spit. he likes to tease your clit with it, watch how sticky it gets with your arousal, hear you whine because you want it inside you so badly.

ghost with a jacob’s ladder with four rungs, a feral curl to his smile as he watches you rub your cunt against his cock like a cat in heat, watching how wet you get with each roll of your hips, desperate for him to fuck you. he takes particular pleasure when he does finally sink into your warm heat, watching your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head as you mewl with each rung until he’s fully settled into you, feeling how you clench around him to keep him deep.

984 notes · View notes

puff0o0 · 16 days

Text

"They were so bloody pretty, Captain!"

It was all Price heard from his Sergeant

Ever since they were deployed, Gaz had been talking about his mystery person that he met when he was off from deployment- Apparently they were a neighbor of his

And Gaz was in love

Remembering how he came over to your house the day after you moved in officially, knocking on your door with a house warming gift

He had to find a way to talk to you afterall, it would be a shame not to

Seeing your smile as you awkwardly thanked him, not knowing what to say

He was attractive, you had to admit

And his voice was so smooth and rich sounding- You couldn't help the feelings that stirred in your stomach

But you ignored them, thinking you were just happy to have already met someone in the neighborhood

Gaz on the other hand was completely smitten- Trying to find ways he can talk to you again, even staying on his porch more and more just so he could find an excuse

And it seems like he found the perfect excuse when he found out you were the new medic

771 notes · View notes

faith369 · 23 days

Note

Idea of mine:

How would 141 (either poly or like any of them, im not fussy, take ur pick) to a reader (preferably fem) who like doesn't make any noise in bed? Like could be having the most earth shattering orgasm but not a single moan. Would they see it as like a challenge to compete to see who could get her to make a noise?

Best believe they'd take it as a challenge.

Poly!141 x fem!reader

Warnings: p in v, poly, oral fem receiving, just straight up nasty so mdni

The captain's eyes were trained on the scene that played out in front of him, your poor little cunny all slick and waiting to be played with again , but Gaz and Soap seemed to be too occupied with arguing who would manage to make their little bird sing, neither of them noticing that their Liteunant had entered, who wasn't happy at all about seeing his little darling neglected. The sergeants only stopped as Ghost grabbed them at their necks like a cat does to her kittens in order to maneuver them of the bed.

"Can't leave you two alone f' one second. Look a' that, not thinking about our poor bunny. Wanna' show 'em how to make her scream, Cap?"

The older man simply nodded, sliding onto the bed to flush your back against his hairy chest. Gaz and Soap settled down, pouting like children that had just gotten their favorite toy taken away, which, at least to some extent, was true. And still, your only sign of just having your cunt eaten out were your hazy eyes and the way your breath came out faster than usual. John fondled your breast, twisting the little buds between his fingers, while Simon slowly moved into you. The pleasure that you felt was only given away by the way you threw your head back. You pressed yourself further into John's body seeking him out. Simon picked up his pace in hopes of at least getting a whimper out of you, but nothing, not until one of the hands that had just rested on your chest started rubbing small circles on your swollen clit. It was too much Simon's hard strokes—one hand playing with your nipple while the other abused your poor bud, the feeling caused you to leave out a string of moans that carried their names within them. Johnny and Kyle glared at the scene that unfolded right infront of them, the scot even palming himself through his pants while the other one was too encapsulated to move. The Captain had the audacity to grin at them smugly, as if that didn't make them want to prove that they would make you sing for them just as pretty after the older two were done.

#cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x reader #captain price x female reader #simon riley x you #faith writes #cod mwii #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x you #kyle garrick x you #poly!141 #simon ghost riley x reader #captain price x you #soap x fem reader #johnny x reader

583 notes · View notes

alwaysshallow · 5 months

Text

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-

#kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #gaz x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz imagines #cod mw2 #x reader #gaz call of duty #gaz x you #fake dating

896 notes · View notes

luxeslore · 18 days

Note

(this could be for anyone from any fandom, but as an example, I'll use our cod boys) Since it's almost sundress season, our COD boys are having heart attacks over the reader sitting pretty and innocently eating ice cream... (Sorry If I didn't explain this right, but it has been in my head for days)

18+ content, MDNI. afab!reader, dry humping.

literal heart attacks— but kyle garrick is the biggest victim of sundress season, as a man who’s obsessed with thighs. specifically your thighs. he could drop to his knees and nuzzle his face into them, between them right then and there and has to remind himself this is a wholesome date !!! but there you are enjoying your ice cream cone without a car in the world as if every inch of you isn’t sitting pretty…

and it’s not until you’re on your way back home, all sleepy from the sun in the passenger seat that kyle finally brings himself to splay a large hand over your plush thigh, before dragging his knuckles along the hem of your dress that’s all bunched up. his other hand grips the steering wheel terribly tight. you can see his hand flex, can see how hard it is for him to concentrate and— oh, he’s pulling over.

you say his name once. all sultry yet saccharine and he curses under his breath because he knows that you know exactly what you’re doing. his plush lips find your own in an instant once he leans over. your kisses are strawberry ice cream flavored and gaz finds irony in it; in how he could just eat you up in every sense. you’re already whimpering from how ravenous he seems for anything from you. for even the feeling of your body against his own which is apparent in the way his hands grab you up, fighting to get the pesky seatbelt off of you. “c’mere,” he growls as if you have a choice.

like he isn’t dragging you into his lap. and when you are finally sat on it— all out of breath from the struggle, mind you— you can feel him. every inch of his hard cock through his jeans and you sense your legs turning into jelly before you have your chance to grind down on him.

“fuckin’ sundress season,” he mutters, hips rocking upwards to create friction between the two of you underneath your dress. to press his bulge right up against on your pretty cunt that’s hidden away in your panties.

kyle truthfully feels like a dickhead considering he’s about to bust in his jeans from you rocking your hips back and forth on top of him. but then you place your hands over his that are resting on your waist, coaxing him to squeeze tighter— to guide you. ah, fuck it. he thinks to himself before getting more comfortable in his seat and giving you what you both want before you start whining like the brat you are.

usually he’s not this selfish. tending to your needs first is something he takes pride in. but when you keep grinding up on him and making those little sounds, he has no choice but to keep taking it all in. it’s alright, he decides. he’ll just manhandle you onto the couch and spend his night with those thighs of yours squished up on either side of his face instead. there’s no sweeter way to return the favor.

443 notes · View notes

sprout-fics · 9 months

Text

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:

(Please have an 18+ or similar age disclaimer in your bio to be tagged in this fic)

@alicesfracturedmirror @emrzennn @scatter-mind001 @josieguts @angryvengeful @ramadiiiisme @mutuallimbenclosure @waves-against-a-cliff @sunnynomoar @miyabilicious @piratesfromspace @sofasoap @soapskneebrace @writeforfandoms @waltzthegenderfluidpan @ghosts-goldendoodle @cherrycoloredfunk86 @lostagoodcigar @tbrfic @appleschloss @tizylish @misshoneypaper @kkinky @reaper-chan666 @kenma-izhu @shinebright2000 @zalyluvvs @neoarchipelago @essencse @dankest-farrik @mirthlxss @bi-witch-bxtch @tallmanlover @vinithechocolatevampire @blackcat9091 @tiredmetalenthusiast @tizylish @miyabilicious @secretliteradite @ghosts-goldendoodle @angryvengeful @miraclesabound @lostagoodcigar @wolfyland07 @beebeechaos @kait-is-always-late @rv3rblog @cr3ampuffed @lazyninjaphilosopher @capawtine @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @whynotbad @fake-id-69 @mememe7147 @thriving-n-jiving

Please reblog with 'taglist' to be added to the taglist

(If your handle isn't underlined, please check to see you have your tag settings on)

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #gaz x you #omegaverse #cod omegaverse #my writing #my fic

1K notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

Note

for your tf141 imagines and prompts

“would you still love me if i was a worm?”

especially if it would be them asking or their partner.

soap is totally the kind of guy to ask his so this.

I've been giggling my ass off at this request (in the best way possible). I had so much fun writing quick little drabbles for each of them. Enjoy!

Find the Imagines & What If masterlist HERE

Content Warnings (MDNI): foul language, brief suggestive themes (on one)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price:

“John?”

John glances up from the morning paper. The two of you sit outside in the garden. The sky is gray and cloudy.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

John blinks. Frowns. “Would I still love you if you were a worm?”

“That’s right,” you reply.

John places his steaming mug of tea on the table beside him. Then, he folds up the paper, placing it in his lap.

“We have three kids together.”

“I know. But—”

John shakes his head. “Of course I’d still love you. What kind of bloody fucking question is that?”

John "Soap" MacTavish:

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

You sit up and laugh, disbelief in your tone. “What did you just ask me?”

John shrugs and then grins sheepishly. “If I was a worm, would you still love me?”

“Asking the important questions,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Always.” He rolls onto his stomach and rests his cheek on his fist. “Humor me.”

“I’d keep you in a little jar of dirt. Carry you around everywhere. Give you tiny kisses,” you say.

John nods. “Good answer.” He fishes out his phone. “I’m gonna ask Simon the same thing.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

“Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

You turn on your side, wiggling up to Simon’s side in the bed. He sits up with his back against the headboard. The silk sheets are tangled around his thighs, and he holds a pack of smokes in his hand.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Simon just stares.

“Would you—”

“I fucking heard you.” You watch him inhale. “A worm? A fucking worm?”

“Yes,” you say slowly.

“You fell apart on my tongue a bloody minute ago.”

“True.” You pause. “Does that mean—”

“Yes. Bloody fucking hell.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

“You’re having a laugh.”

“Answer the question.”

Kyle smiles behind his mug of English tea. “No.”

“Kyle!”

He shrugs and takes a sip. You place your hands on your hips. “I require an answer.”

Laughing softly, Kyle places his tea down on the counter behind him. He leans back casually, crossing his arms. He’s not wearing a shirt.

“You want an answer?” he asks.

“Yes. I do,” you reply.

Kyle huffs, a mischievous grin forming on his face. “I’d give you to Captain Price as fish bait.”

You point at him, stifling your own rising laughter. “How fucking dare you.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82

744 notes · View notes

v1x3n · 2 months

Text

4K notes · View notes

groguspicklejar · 8 months

Text

there's a myth you become clingy and obsessive towards that whoever takes your virginity. it's kind of the reverse when Gaz is given that opportunity with you.

no because if ever Gaz is given the chance to be your first, it's game over for him. as your best friend, he was already protective of you. he'd go to great lengths to make you happy and make sure you're safe.

as the lucky bastard who gets to touch you for the first time, he's already fallen half in love with you. and it wasn't like he ever even saw you like that in the first place. things have always been platonic on his end.

you knew that. and you accepted that there would never be anything between the two of you. hell, you never even mentioned the topic of your sex life until another friend did. it was at a get-together, just days before Kyle was deployed. one friend brought it up and it opened a whole can of worms.

"so when are you getting your cherry popped?" suddenly, the whole group turns their attention on you.

another friend snorts and goes, "oh, yeah! damn, sis, you still haven't gotten laid?"

luckily, you were quick to retort. "i'll get my cherry popped once you all mind your goddamn business."

they all groaned and flipped you off while you giggled to yourself and sunk back in your seat. you didn't catch Kyle's long stare as you made chit chat with your other friend. you didn't notice the glances sent your way the whole night because you were too distracted.

later, when he's driving you home, he's quiet. too quiet. the grim look on his face and the way he gripped the steering wheel was slightly concerning.

"okay." you break the ice with a smile. "what's wrong?"

his startled eyes glance your way before settling back on the road.

"nothing." he says and he's damn sure that you don't believe him. "okay, don't get mad at me..." he practically feels your eyes narrowing. "but i really thought you'd have gotten laid by now."

he expected the click of your tongue and it was rightfully received.

"piss off, Garrick." you playfully smacked his shoulder while trying to laugh off the heat flaring up your cheeks.

"no, seriously!" he quickly adds. "you're a very pretty girl. you're very sweet and fun to be around. you make the weirdest jokes, which are terrible by the way—"

"hey, you still laugh!"

"yeah, because they're so terrible."

your nose crinkles as you roll your eyes at him, cheeks still blaring hot because he called you pretty.

the air falls into silence while he drives. Gaz isn't sure why this question rattles his brain so much. it makes no sense to him. you are everything any man could want.

you've gone on dates. you even had a boyfriend at one point, but Gaz never liked him. in fact, he hated him because the bloke didn't deserve an angel like you.

but you for to have never even gone that far with him was mind-boggling because you dated that man for seven months.

he looks at you. the vision of perfection. his best friend. his best friend. his best friend.

the more he listed every single attribute he finds great about you, the more he realizes how fucking stupid he's been. because you've always been so close and yet so far and that's his fault for not even stopping to consider it.

"so why haven't you?" he asks.

Kyle watches your grin slowly fade away. a quiet sorrow befalls your expression, it makes him frown, it makes him wonder with a startled heart.

why haven't you?

he wants to know.

he wants to help you find that answer if you haven't already. he wants to be that answer.

because you've only ever wanted one person. the only person who's ever truly known you for who and what you are and understood.

because i've only ever wanted you.

you release a deep sigh and shrug, "guess i was only waiting for the right man."

he stares at you for a good long minute. the rest of the trip was silent. he parks in front of your place and couldn't even face you when he heard the car door open.

"thanks for the ride."

you slide out, close the door and you walked ahead. Gaz is stuck between driving off and following you. he wants to. he wants you.

all roads that he's ever taken, every dark path that had a light at the end of the tunnel, they've all led to you. for as long as he can remember, every decision he's made, he had to stop and think about how you would feel and that alone was proof enough that this ache in his chest has always been there. he could never quite explain it until now.

he looked at you. really looked at you.

fucking hell, how could he have been so blind?

he gets out of the car as you step onto the porch, your name falling into the cool autumn wind. when your eyes find his, the words lodge in his throat.

he follows your steps until he's closer, until he can reach the sweetness of your scent. but it's not close enough if he wants to drown in it.

finally, finally, he asks, "can i be the right man?"

it's a plea to the gods. for one thing that has always alluded him. the one person who's always mattered to him above all else.

your eyes, wide and startled, steal the breath from his lungs. "what?"

he takes a step and you back away. a few more and your back is against your wooden door, trapped.

"what are you doing?" your terrified whisper cuts through him. he's instantly deterred and second-guesses his actions.

he wants to be the first one. he wants to be the right one.

he leans in. "what i should've done ages ago."

his lips touch yours. and it's soft and tentative. a testament to the very fibre of his soul touching yours the way the moon eclipses the sun. he moves his mouth against yours, his teeth catching your lip, catching the gasp that tumbles out while his hand presses you close by the small of your back.

Kyle kisses you like he can't help it. he kisses you like it's the only choice he'll ever make among a million others. you breathe a moan into him when his tongue slides into your mouth and he's lost to the way you taste. his name is muddled between your lips and his as your fingers curl around the back of his neck.

his hand curls around the door knob and nothing about your friendship was ever the same after.

[Part 2]

4K notes · View notes

thebeesatemyknees · 8 months

Note

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.

3K notes · View notes

b1rds3ye · 9 months

Note

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

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #cod smut #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price smut #john price x you #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick smut #kyle garrick x you #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery shut up*/#anon mail ❤️

1K notes · View notes

hopelesslonelyghost · 2 months

Text

task force 141 x medic!reader

written on a whim. not beta read

medic!reader who’s actually an M.D. and had to officially pronounce Soap dead.

she gapes at simon who’s pressing his fingers against soap’s bloodied neck but she knows she has to be one to check for herself. so she does.

she holsters her weapon, drops her medpack and slowly kneels. she can feel the heavy weight on her shoulders of the stares of her squad. with a heavy sigh, she slips on blue medical gloves and presses her fingers against johnny’s carotid, somehow having some semblance of hope that she’ll feel a flutter, any sign of life.

instead for the next 60 seconds there’s nothing. looking down at her watch, she calls it. her voice shakes, threatens to crack, but she holds it in. holds it in until she’s able to go back to base and lay alone in her cot.

she rips the gloves off, refusing to keep feeling his blood on her hands. leans back on her shins and rests her hands on her thighs, staring at Johnny until emergency responders can arrive and cart him away.

501 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 3 months

Text

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."

820 notes · View notes