#Gaz Garrick x Female Reader

[storiesaplenty]

Vice-Principal Garrick (18+)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f/Reader

Call of Duty Masterlist

Back to School Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: swearing. Unprotected sex. P in v. Office sex. Power dynamic. Fingering. Oral (m receiving). Cum swallowing

WC: 1299

Gif does not belong to me: @inactivegaz, but that blog has been archived, so belongs to @kingscanyon

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: Do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Principle Price (18+) - John Price x f/Reader

Gym Teacher Riley (18+) Simon "Ghost" Riley x f/Reader

Summary: Vice-Principal Garrick calls you to his office to see how you are doing, with being the new history teacher. You knew he a flirty man, but now it is just the two of you, well, it is hard to turn him down.

I heard a knock on my door, and I smiled to myself before fixing my face back to being neutral.

"Come in." I called, and I couldn't help but look her up and down as she opened the door.

"You wanted to see me Mr. Garrick?" She sweetly said to me as I stood up, pretending to fix the the button on my coat.

"Please have a seat." I pointed to the chair on the other side of my desk.

She closed the door behind her and she took a seat, staring up at me, her hands clasped in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankle.

Such a pretty little thing, always smiling and being polite to all the staff and students.

I sat at the corner of the desk, my own hands in front of me as I stared down at her.

I could feel my cock twitching in my slacks and I had to think of something to calm me down.

"I just wanted to see how you are doing. You have been here for a month now."

"How kind of you Mr Garrick. I am enjoying myself here."

"The students treating you alright?"

"Well, teens will be teens. They are going to act uo, but so far, they have done the assignments and I haven't caught any of them cheating on a test."

"That is always good to hear. Now, how about the staff?"

I watched as she got a bit fidgety in seat and she cleared her throat.

"They seem nice. I haven't really got to know any of them as they leave just as fast as the students once the bell rings."

"But I have heard such wonderful things about you from Mr Price and Mr Riley." Her eyes got real wide when I said their names.

Bingo. Got her.

"They have been kind to me, yes." She looked down at her hands.

"I am sure they have. They have told me about your beautiful smile." Corny, I know, but she looked back up me and smiled.

I placed hand under her chin, smiling back at her. "They are right, you do have a beautiful smile."

Her and I are just staring at one another now, until the bell rang, forcing her to clear her throat.

"I should be going back to class." But she didn't make any indication to move.

"You have a free period." I moved my face closer, until I kissed her. She didn't move away, just kissed me harder.

I pulled her up and placed her on my desk, her legs wrapping around my waist to hold me against her.

My one hand holding her waist, my other hand sliding up her thigh, going under her skirt.

"We shouldn't be doing this." She said against my lips.

I pulled my face away, but barely. "You want to stop?" I asked her as I started to rub her pussy through her her lacy panties.

"No." She whimpered as she shook her head no.

"Just have to be quiet for me." I told her as I pulled her panties to the side, and inserted one finger, cursing under my breath at how fucking tight she was.

John and Simor were right about her.

Her pussy is going to try and strangle my cock and I can't fucking wait.

◆

I have never been more thankful for bolting my desk to the floor than I am now. Deep, rough, hard thrusts would have the desk moving as I fucked her.

She is bent over the side of my desk.

Her skirt flipped over her ass, her panties stuffed in my pants pockets, which are bunched around my ankles.

"Knew you would feel good." I groaned as I closed my eyes as I looked up towards the ceiling as I pounded into her.

My hips are practically bouncing off her ass, I could hear how wet she is every single time I enter her and put against her ass.

I am biting my lip, trying to keep quiet because I didn't want anyone coming in her to see me balls deep in our new history teacher.

I wrapped my arm around her, and pulled her back, so her back is flushed against my chest.

I placed my hand on her throat, and she placed her hand over mine, and then to my suprise, she pushed my hand harder against her throat.

"Knew you were filthy." I groaned as I tightened my hand on her throat as she whined.

"Feel good." She whimpered.

"I know you do baby." I put my face in her hair as I groaned loudly, as I felt her pussy start to flutter around my cock.

"Gonna cum for me? Go on, cum on your Vice-Principal's cock."

"Oh fuck." She squealed as she came. Her pussy got even tighter around my cock as she came.

I fucked her throat her orgasm, not wanting this moment to end.

But then there was a knock on the door.

"Gaz?" Came the gruff voice of Price.

I pulled out of her still clenching pussy, and pulled up my pants as she fixed herself up as best as she could.

She isn't supposed to be in here.

He told me not do anything during school hours.

"Under the desk." I told her, and she didn't even hesitate, as she got under my desk.

I sat down in my chair, cleaning my throat as I called out for him to come in.

I knew he wouldn't be able to see her from the side of the desk.

"We have to go over some of the budget for the upcoming dance." Price said as he placed the budget binder on the table, and sitting down.

I felt her hands on my thighs, as I moved in my chair, and I realized I didn't do up my pants.

I had to stop myself from moaning as her hands pulled my still hard cock from my pants and wrapped her mouth around the tip and started to suck.

Price was talking and didn't notice that I wasn't really contributing to the conversation.

How could I when her mouth was quickly moving up and down my cock, licking and sucking.

"So what do you think Gaz?"

"Whatever you decide is fine." I said as best as I could without making it seem like I am about to cum down her throat.

Then she cupped my balls and I am done for.

I placed my hand on the back of her head just as the first rope of cum hit the back of her throat.

I cleared my throat, trying to hide the fact that I am coming with me boss and friend sitting across from me and she is swallowing it all.

"Shit, I got a meeting with the superintendent." Price stood up quickly and grabbed the binder, slamming the door behind him, leaving me there as I slumped against my chair.

I wheeled back, patting the top of her head as she continued to suck my cock.

My phone vibrated and I could see it was from Price.

'Meet me in my office. I want to know everything.' I chuckled to myself as I helped her up, and tried to fix herself up.

"Do I get my underwear back?" She asked me, already knowing the answer as she placed a couple of pieces of gum in her mouth.

"Aaaa no. Maybe one day."

She rolled her eyes at me.

"School is almost over." I told her as she left my office.

I waited a few minutes, and walked the room to the Price's office, as he can't wait for the weekly poker game to get all the details of what happened between our dear history teacher and myself.

[the-whispers-of-death]

A Book to Remember Me By

Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something!

Gaz who dreads telling Bookworm!Reader that he's leaving on deployment. You two have a good thing going, your relationship is going well. Of course, he has to go just when everything was going well.

So, Gaz tells you about his upcoming deployment when you're both cuddled up together on your couch, him having come over. You're so understanding, telling him that it'll be alright. Even if you won't be able to be in constant contact due to the nature of his job, you still will have some type of contact during the deployment. You promise to still be here when he gets back, making him smile.

When the day comes, you see him off. You give him sweet kisses goodbye and you gently press a book in his hands. It's such a teary, bittersweet send-off, so much so that Gaz doesn't even notice what book you gave him until hours later when he's at the SAS base the 141 is operating out of.

He had set the book down on the nightstand next to his bed and when he was all unpacked, he picked it up again. He looks at it, a soft smile making its way onto his face. It's your favorite book, your most beloved book. Maybe he doesn't read the genre or the author of the book, but he'll still cherish it either way. After all, it's a connection to you, to home.

Gaz spends most of his free time in between training and missions reading the book, his fingers roaming over the pages your fingers have. The book has your scent on it, in between the pages, and it drives him wild with homesickness. But he can't stop reading and rereading the book, it makes him feel like you're still beside him.

He doesn't care when Soap teases him for being so whipped that he's rereading a book he wouldn't even pick up normally, he doesn't care about the way Ghost and Price murmur something about "young love". All that matters is the fact that Gaz can feel connected to you even when you're miles apart.

At night, Gaz will lay in bed and read the book out loud, pretending you're laying beside him. You always did like it when he read pages of his current book to you. So he continues to read the book out loud, in the empty air, and he falls asleep like that, book on his chest as he falls asleep to a dream about you.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[forsworned]

Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

[abusivegymrat]

Embarrassing things Ghost has gotten hard for before;

Warning(?): sometimes it’s okay to write about being the mc and the center of attention🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️😖😖 if i write it while cringing u will read it while cringing period. We love things that r hard to read.

1. You were in a briefing where you weren’t allowed phones, and when the other lieutenant on duty turned at you, you immediately took your phone and buried it between those thick delicious thighs. Bury his head, please.

2. When you dominated him in training, wrestled your way out from under him and kicked him face first onto the floor, stepping on his back. It felt like a foot job, tbh.

3. When you manhandled someone else. See, all the younger recruits are like siblings to you, especially women. You once saw one of them crying because she was “too heavy” for her man so you just picked her up and threw her over your shoulder. He felt saliva building up in his mouth when he saw the muscles in your arms ripple.

4. Whenever you get tasked to do a debrief, because he could watch you talk all day. And when he stares at you for too long, his mind wanders off into dangerous territory. Can’t help it.

5. Apparently fireman carried him away from fire when he was unconscious, Soap won’t shut his bitch ass up about it.

Meh sorry

[lapetitepatisserie]

cod × fem!reader ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The familiar sound of keys in the door alerted you to your husband’s return.

“My love?” he called, looking for you, boots making heavy footsteps as he made his way towards you and your child. His eyes soften once they land on you and your baby girl.

“How’s my princess?” he drawls, voice deep with exhaustion from work.

You look down at the child sitting in your lap, occupied with trying to fit a chubby foot into her mouth. A steady finger reaches underneath your chin, lifting it to meet his warm, intense gaze.

“I’m talking about this one.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

i saw a tiktok of a heavily pregnant woman saying “maybe i dont give him butterflies anymore but i do give him high blood pressure” then they walk by their S/O with a latter and power tools. and i have been thinking about how the guys would react ever since

Oh, anon. This is so cute! I love this. I know the trend you're talking about, but I feel like I haven't seen it with pregnant women specifically, but I find it even more hilarious if it is. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you for sending it in!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, dad!141, pregnancy, married life, parenthood, domestic fluff

Word Count: 800

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

John Price

“Get off the ladder, cabbage.” John exhales, trying his best to keep his voice calm.

You’re standing just high enough on the ladder to rest your pregnant belly on the top rung. John stands directly behind you, both hands firmly planted on either side of you against the rail. It’s not to support the ladder but to catch you if you fall. A potentially likely possibility since you’re carrying extra weight in front of you. You could easily tip back enough to lose your balance.

“I’m fine, John,” you reply, continuing on as if he’s not worrying.

It’s maddening how relaxed you are, like the potential factor of danger is a completely foreign concept.

“Please,” he emphasizes. “Get off the ladder.”

“Why?” you ask. “I’m more than capable.”

“You are,” he agrees. “But you’re also pregnant.”

“So?”

“Cabbage,” warns John.

“Fine,” you exhale.

John keeps his hands on your hips the entire time. When you’re back on solid ground, some of that tension melts away, but his heart still thumps quickly.

You lightly cup his cheek, batting your eyelashes at him. “Were you worried about me, John?”

John places his hand on your belly. “Worried about all three of you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle sits at the kitchen table, sorting through the mail. With a heavy sigh, he opens the energy bill, removing the paperwork, reading over the breakdown of energy usage for the month.

From his peripheral, Kyle notices movement. Glancing away from the itemized bill, Kyle’s gaze softens when you walk into the kitchen. You’re pregnant, close to your due date. Even waddling around, Kyle can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

He leans back in his chair, appreciating you for a few languid seconds, then his heart drops into his stomach.

“Damn it all. Put that down, love.”

Kyle shoots out of his chair, trying to calmly but quickly make it over to you.

“I’m fine,” you insist, attempting to walk by. “I can assemble it.”

“No.” Kyle’s tone is firm but gentle. “Give it here.”

His heart is pounding, anxiety spiking from not just the power drill you carry, but the cardboard box full of wood you’re attempting to guide down the hall.

“You sit here.” He points to the chair. “Sort the mail. I’ve got this.”

You slowly ease down into the chair, and Kyle breathes deep, trying to calm his nerves. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters.

John "Soap" MacTavish

He hears your footsteps first, and then your voice as you curse under your breath.

Johnny lounges on the sofa, reclining against a fluffy pillow. At his feet are his two-year old twin daughters. On the television, a Bluey episode plays. The girls aren’t watching. They’re smashing their dolls together and running them over with the yellow toy excavator.

Sitting up, Johnny glances over the top of the couch

At first, he smiles. Then frowns. Then launches himself off the couch.

“Put it down,” commands Johnny. “Drop it.” He steps on a doll and winces, wobbling slightly.

You turn toward him, pregnant belly coming into view. You’re carrying a ladder, the large one, and you’re not supposed to be lifting anything over a certain weight.

“Down,” he repeats. “Put it down.”

You roll your eyes and turn away. Johnny makes it to you quickly, grabbing the ladder and placing it on the floor.

“What are you thinking?” he asks. “You’re bloody pregnant.”

“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m—I’m not yelling,” soothes Johnny, cupping your face in his hands. “But you gave me a right scare, yeah?” He kisses your forehead. “I’ll take care of it. Go sit with the girls.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is curled up on the sofa, a precious bundle in his lap. His two-year old daughter rests her head against his chest, gaze focused on the colorful pages.

“He started to look for some food,” reads Simon from The Very Hungry Caterpillar. “On Monday he ate through one apple.” His daughter traces the outline of the apple, and then runs her finger over the caterpillar. “But he was still hungry.”

As Simon turns the page, he hears your soft but determined footsteps. He briefly looks away from the book, his gaze falling on your belly, round and full of his child. Inwardly, he smiles, knowing that the family you’ve created together is about to grow by one.

“On Tuesday he ate through two pears,” continues Simon. “But he was still—”

His voice disappears, and his stomach flips, blood pressure spiking as he watches you turn the corner. You have a step stool tucked under your arm and a drill in your hand.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters, lifting his daughter out of his lap and placing her on the sofa. “Daddy will be back shortly, doll.”

He kisses the top of her head, and then takes off after you. With the added weight, your steps are slow, and it only takes Simon a few strides to walk past you and cut you off before you make it to the nursery.

“What are you doing?” he asks, reaching for the drill.

“Hanging a painting,” you reply like it’s no big deal.

Simon sighs. “Give it here.”

“I can do it,” you insist, turning away from his reaching hands.

Simon plucks the drill out of your hand and holds it out of reach. “Give me the step stool.” With a pout, you surrender it. “Gonna give me a bloody heart attack.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

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@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @hisuccubus @all-by-myself98

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

lmao thinking about how the tf141 men know you're serious by the way you say their given names. like they just turn docile immediately, no matter what they're doing or their positions.

“kyle, johnny, zip it.” swiveling in your chair, you turn your gaze towards them and glare, lips set into a thin line. the two men who sit next to each other stop their quiet bickering and nod softly, focusing on laswell once more.

ghost usually avoids doing med checkups when the time of year rolls around and it just ends up making the medical professional's jobs harder than it needs to be (they usually come to you in order to get him to do it.) “simon, i’m not in the mood. now.” he sulks and broods (swears he doesn't.) but nonetheless does the med check up, that you sit in on so he doesn't run.

price isn't exempt from it either, despite being captain. during a mission including farah and her people, the two had been going back and forth on the trek to the meet-up point. annoyed you had stopped price with a hand to his chest and met his eyes. “john, leave it alone. we don't have time for this.” he’d kept eye contact for a bit but had nodded, clapping you on the shoulder. “heard, seargent.”

ppl call you the 141 whisperer 💀 lolll

[leyavo]

Ghost getting badly injured during a mission that they have to call his next of kin.

Next of kin?? What do you mean next of kin.

Mrs Riley?! He doesn’t wear a wedding band to protect you. Not even at home, worried there’ll be a mark to show he sometimes wears one.

It’s then that the TF 141 find out he’s married to you. They’re all wondering what you’re like, convinced you must be in the same line of work.

You’ve been married for six years, only to be called if it’s serious like now.

Soap’s jaw is on the floor as you walk into the infirmary, you don’t even glance their way as you rush to Simon’s bedside. Your hand on his chest as you lean down to kiss his forehead and brush back his hair.

You’re well put together, a lightweight robe layered over jeans and a simple vest. Pops of colour on your olive thick framed glasses and golden wedged heels. Hair pinned back with a pencil, leather bag overpacked with a book, filofax, purse and little cosmetic bag.

Price introduces himself, shaking your hand. A dainty diamond ring sparkling on your finger. Your silver bangles jingle as you greet each man, repeating their names and they know Ghost has not told you anything about them.

All he told you is that he likes working alone, but sometimes works with others.

You stay at the base for a while till he’s well enough to travel home. Eating with him and the guys in the canteen, they’re still staring at Simon like he’s grown another head. Watching you two squabble about little things.

“Do not put that shit on my plate,” Simon grumbled.

“It’s broccoli not a bomb.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, shoulder bumping into his arm as you try to move him along in the line.

The art director job you have takes you all around the world, sometimes you get to meet up with your husband. Simon treating it like a mission in itself, you playing along as you talk to him over the phone as you walk the cobbled streets to see him. “Target engaged, moving in,” you whisper as you spot him standing outside a coffee shop.

FaceTiming him whilst he’s at base so you can show him the little trinket you found in an antique store. He’s laying down in his bed, headphones on so no one hears.

“Nearly the same age as you luv.” Anything to see that little poutie face and brows furrowed. He loves teasing you that you are older than him, but it backfires whenever he complains at his body aching. “You’re supposed to be young and spry.”

Being a couple years older than Simon, you’ve got your shit together. Which drew Simon to you. Both no nonsense, say what you feel and work it out. No games, no silent treatment.

“Watch your tone Si, you’re not in the army here. You’re home so don’t give me that shit.”

“Watch my tone, luv. You just flooded the bathroom!”

“You distracted me!”

“Why don’t I get some towels and we both sort it out.”

Once Simon’s fully recovered, you invite his team to stay at your shared home together for the weekend.

A cottage in the countryside, there’s an eclectic mix of vintage furniture and textiles. That one rug Simon shipped back from Morocco in the living room. Paintings, pottery and sculptures scattered around the rooms. Rocky, a German Shepard trailing after you as you give them a tour of the place.

You make friends with Price’s wife who’s around the same age as you. Even try to set Gaz up with a client you think he’d get on with. Bond with Soap telling him you lived in Scotland as a late teen where you had your first art assistant job there.

Price’s wife scheduling a double date in five months time. Simon side eying John. She’s also invited you to come stay for a girls weekend at the Price house.

[wife/gf masterlist]

[whateveriwant]

Ghost is the type of dad that, when his kids are driving him up the fucking wall, pinches the bridge of his nose as he thinks to himself “I should’ve pulled out.”

Gaz is the type of dad that, when his kids are giving him attitude, drops them off at Nana’s house because he knows she’ll teach them a thing or two about respect.

Soap is the type of dad that, when his kids are being ungrateful little shits, takes all of the batteries/cables/chargers out of their devices and buries them somewhere in the yard.

Price is the type of dad that, when his kids are getting on his very last nerve, threatens to drop them off outside the nearest animal shelter like a box of unwanted puppies.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (141 x fem!reader, live together)

Beside you, Kyle is the first to wake up in the morning. He’ll pad towards the kitchen, enjoying the sight of you making your morning drink silently, before moving to stand right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he grinds he bulge lazily against your ass. He just wants to feel your warmth, how nice your soft flesh press against his cock.

“Just want to feel you, baby. It’s so cold out here.” He’ll unabashedly slip his hands under your pajamas shirt, kneading your breasts and tugging at those sensitive buds, forcing you to stop brewing your drink because you might spill the liquid.

Kyle just want to get an orgasm from you, a gift for you two morning birds, he claims before succumbing to sleepiness and tuck himself back under the duvet, fully content with being the first man making you come undone everyday, and sleeps in 5 more minutes.

You know Johnny will drag you into the shower with him whenever he comes back from his morning jog. You chide him before he engulfs you in his embrace, lightheartedly calling him a stinky man and shush him to go shower first.

So his solution is hug you despite your protest, then pull you inside the bathroom together, stripping off your pajamas and his sports wear impatiently before jumping into the shower with you.

“We’re both stinky now, jus’ thought ye might need a shower too.” Johnny grins when you glare at him, shamelessly pretends he’s just ‘looking out for ye’ while his hands traveling across your body, groping and preparing you for his cock with his hard dick prodding at the small of your back. He’ll never hurt you, but as soon as you’re wet enough for his girthy shaft, he’ll pick you up, stretching you deeply and completely with the help of your weight, groans and growls at how good you are, how your precious pussy takes him so good, ignoring Ghost’s noise complaint coming from the other side of the bathroom door as he fucks you fast and feral, making you unable to care about suppressing your moans and cling onto him, let him keep scooping you in his arms and thrust into you till he empty his balls in your good little cunt.

Finally getting Kyle and Johnny pass out from the alcohol, John and Simon manhandle them back to the bedroom before entering the living room again. 00:13, a glance at the clock telling you it’s late in the night, but it’s just the start for the three of you. Retrieving a bottle of fine rum, John seats you between him and Simon, thighs touching with theirs as you all sip on the wine and chat quietly. “The boys will chug the rum like it’s some cheap beer, they can settle with those just fine.” John chuckles lowly and comments on the awful taste and drinking habit of Kyle and Johnny.

“Those bonkers will stick to your side the whole day and complain if they find out, old man.” Simon chimes in after huffing out a laugh at John’s words.

You snicker along with them, feeling fully content and relaxed with squished between two of your lovers, joking about the other two men you loved while the rum flows smoothly down your throat. Soon your composure slips after few nips of the wine, whining cute and groggily as Simon ravish in the kiss with you, tongues dance and tangle with each other in a slow pace, let him drink down all your syrupy moans and coos in rare gentleness, so John can slickens up your pussy with his lips and your juices, making sure you can accommodate their fat cocks later, and you can’t expect or plead him to sink his cock into you already until him and Simon can see your juices dripping down your soaked folds, praying them to fill you up.

The two men will treat you so well, worshipping their dearest girl in the world. Simon’s fingers and lips are always on you when John squeeze his fat tip into your entrance, gliding in and out slowly and heavily, so all those spongy spots of yours that can make you chant his name like a mantra aren’t missed out. When he put a load in you with a husky groan, passing you onto Simon’s lap and let you lean back on his chest, he’ll plant tiny kisses on your shoulder, murmur about how they love you—will protect you and keep you safe and sound—against your skin. Simon allows him to indulge in the heat and tightness of your pussy, grunting and praising you as he fuck John’s cum back inside you, making sure you take each drops of John’s seeds, like the reliable lieutenant he always is for his captain. The base of his length has formed a creamy froth the time he nips down slightly on your shoulder to muffle his moan, drenching your messy cunt with every bit of his release. “Atta girl.” His croon is added with John’s soothing voice “Yeah, been so good for us, princess.”

They both pick up the glass once again to finish the remaining rum, with you already drifting between your slumber and consciousness, listening to their small chatters as your own lullaby. You don’t know when they’ll finish drinking, or if one of them will nestle their cock inside your pussy again, just to feel your walls clenching down subconsciously, but you let yourself slip into a dream, because they’ll take good care of you, always do and always will.

[luvbabydoll]

cod men with their wives on mother’s day ₊˚⊹ ᰔ (+graves)

phillip graves

you wake up to the smell of something burnt. your first thought is the boys got into the kitchen again.

you roll over, still wrapped in your lacey cotton nightgown, and find a card on the nightstand with a single daisy tucked inside. the handwriting’s messy — crayon and glitter, a backwards “M” on “mommy.” it makes your chest ache with how proud you are.

then the door creaks open, and there’s phillip.

hands full of pancakes that are half raw, syrup spillin’ down the side of the plate. the boys trail behind him, barefoot and loud, all grinnin’ with syrup on their cheeks.

“look at that,” phillip drawls, grinning like the smugest man alive. “still sleepin’, baby? it’s noon.”

he sets the plate down and leans over to kiss your forehead, then your lips, then lower — a slow line of kisses down your throat.

“got the whole damn house runnin’ around for ya. reckon that’s what happens when you give a man sons and softness and a wife who don’t raise her voice unless she’s got to.”

he cups your face with one calloused hand, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“you were made for this. don’t matter how dumb you act or how many times you forget where you left the car keys. you’re mine, and you’re a mama. that’s all you gotta be.”

you’re flushed before you even sit up, clinging to the blanket, and he just chuckles.

“eat your pancakes, sugar. and after that, i’m puttin’ another baby in you for being such a good little wife f’me.”

johnny “soap” mactavish

it’s pure chaos, like always.

johnny’s got a toddler slung over one shoulder, another one makin’ a mess on the counter, and the dog’s got the wrapping paper in its mouth.

“oi! that’s mum’s, ya wee beast!”

he snatches the slobbery card out of the dog’s mouth and plasters on a big, cheeky grin when he sees you watching from the hallway, eyes still puffy from sleep.

“well, well, well. look who finally woke up.”

he kisses you hard, grinning into it, his hands already tryin’ to slide into the pockets of your sweatpants.

“y’look like a dream, hen. all sleepy n’ soft. s’good thing you’re pretty, ‘cause yer boys definitely didn’t inherit their cookin’ skills from you.”

you huff, swat at his chest — he just laughs and hands you the mess of a card.

“happy mother’s day, birdie. thank ya for lettin’ me fill this house with gremlins. wouldn’t wanna wake up to anyone else yellin’ at me to stop feedin’ ‘em chocolate for breakfast.”

simon “ghost” riley

it’s quiet when you wake up.

simon’s already up. he always is.

but today, he didn’t leave for a mission.

today, he stayed.

you pad into the kitchen barefoot, one of his shirts hangin’ off your body, eyes barely open. and there he is. your boys in their little chairs, drinkin’ juice, while simon cuts fruit and sets the kettle on the stove.

he turns when he hears you, and his eyes soften.

not a word, not yet. just walks over and wraps an arm around you, kisses your hair, your temple.

“happy mother’s day, love.”

you whisper something back, quiet and sleepy, and he just brushes your knuckles with his lips.

“you made this house a home. all i did was put babies in you. you? you gave ‘em a reason to laugh.”

he pulls out your chair for you. lets the kids pile gifts into your lap. watches with that rare, almost-shy pride in his eyes.

“you look good, y’know,” he says, real low, when the boys are distracted.

“in this kitchen. all soft n’ warm. it suits you.”

john price

“up. c’mon, love. got somethin’ for ya.”

you blink awake to the smell of tea and toast. price is standing by the bed with a tray in his hands and that smug, crooked smile on his face. your youngest clings to his leg, holding a rose that’s half broken.

“got you brekkie. even made sure the lads didn’t set the bloody toast on fire this time.”

you sit up, cheeks warm, and he puts the tray down and cups your face in his hand.

thumb strokes over your cheek. his voice goes quiet.

“never thought i’d have this. house full of noise. woman like you in my bed. little ones screamin’ for your attention. but hell, i’d take ten more of ‘em if it meant you’d smile at me like that every mornin’.”

you lean into his chest and mumble that it’s the best day ever.

he grins against your temple.

“you deserve every minute of it, sweetheart. reckon this house’d fall to pieces without you.”

kyle “gaz” garrick

you’re still in your nightgown, sittin’ on the couch with your knees tucked under you, when kyle comes in holdin’ a tray of pastries and a bright pink mug.

“oi. there’s my girl.”

he kisses the top of your head, sets everything down, and hands you a tiny homemade card signed in three different colors of marker.

“they worked on that for hours. like proper artists. nearly glued their fingers together.”

you laugh, soft and sleepy, and he just watches you with this look — like he still can’t believe you’re real.

“you’ve got ‘em wrapped around your finger, y’know that? you’re like… the sun in this house. they all orbit you.”

he leans down, kisses you slow.

“and i’m not any better.”

he sits beside you, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you close.

“happy mother’s day, babe. you’ve given me more than i ever deserved.”

[sh4rkkks]

𝐓𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 ༒

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 ’𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭’ 𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[ryuzakemo128]

Hell hath no fury

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x female reader

Content warning: attempted murder, kidnapping, anger issues, mental health issues. Third-person perspective. No use of either y/n or you. Same reader from Grim Reaper series. Skin tone isn't mentioned. Nor will it ever be mentioned.

Words: 332

Masterlist

Credit for divider template: @cafekitsune

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: “Come a little closer. Closer. Closer.” Grim's hands reached his face. Cupping his cheeks. Pressing her forehead against his as if she had this moment memorised from the back of her mind. “Denial is foolish, as is the rest of you.” Her fingers pressed down upon his eyelids. “I will make you see.”

Her call sign is the 'Grim Reaper' among those who care enough to know her. To her enemies? She is also known as “The Iron Maiden.” For reasons, they will never get the chance to find out.

Covered in enough black ink, tied to classified information they could never hope to be able to reach.

Tied with people who are now long dead.

Her secrets are now long out of Kyle's reach now.

“Surprise bitch. I lived.” grim snarled, strutting across the yard as if she didn't just go missing in action for the past three years. Expecting them to glaze of what she called, 'a small thing.'

Simon wished he never saw it.

Soap screamed and ran to Price.

Kyle just stood there as if hell managed to freeze over in real time.

“Awe cute. Good to see you, too. Assholes.” grim rolled her eyes at their reaction.

Grim walked into Price's office. She had no idea why the fuck everyone around her was so spooked of her for. They were running from her like she had the plague or something.

Not fair.

She didn't plan to come back by herself.

They didn't come for her.

She deserved to be upset with them, didn't she?

“Come a little closer. Closer. Closer.” Grim's hands reached his face. Cupping his cheeks. Pressing her forehead against his as if she had this moment memorised from the back of her mind. “Denial is foolish, as is the rest of you.” Her fingers pressed down upon his eyelids. “I will make you see.”

The screams of the man's eyes getting taken from his skull in the recorded tape.

“I didn't kill the bastard. You should be happy. I provided an excellent service.” she purred. “I have him with me right now too. A blessing, I am sure of it.”

König. Her ex-husband delivered to Captain Price on his knees.Konig. Her ex-husband delivered to Captain Price on his knees. The thrill of getting what she wanted fuelled her ambitions like the raging fires of the sun.

[avaleigh16]

Y/n: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Gaz: Several traffic violations.

Ghost: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Soap: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Ghost: ... Your what?

Y/n: My friends.

Soap: Are they saying “friends”?

Price: I think they're being sarcastic.

Gaz: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Y/n! All of your friends are in this room.

Y/n: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.

Ghost: You’re very hot, and I still eat you.

Everyone at the table: *silence*

Gaz: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!

Price: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: If you want my advice-

Gaz: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill Ghost. Multiple times.

Y/n: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, he also tried to kill me.

Ghost: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

[luxcuriousao3]

Task Force 141 + The Best They've Ever Had

Just thinking about you being the best fuck the boys have ever had.

warnings: smut (obvi), piv, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, protected sex, fingering, briefly mentioned s/m but no actual s/m, reader is kinda a fuck boy (fuck girl?), slight hint of dacryphillia if you squint maybe, no use of y/n

Gaz

You go for Gaz first—he's the prettiest, and he's incredibly smooth. He charms you easily, makes you comfortable enough to invite him back to your place despite having just met that night. He's all confidence and no arrogance. He knows he looks good and he knows he fucks good. He's sure he's going to blow your mind, leave you aching for more…

Instead, you give him head so good his climax comes early, his come flooding your mouth. A broken moan leaves him when you swallow and look up at him through your lashes, a sweet, innocent smile on your face, but your eyes are sultry enough to get a man hard in seconds. His spent cock twitches valiantly, but his orgasm was so strong that he knows he won’t be able to go again for hours.

He’s incredibly embarrassed, but he tries not to show it, and gets you off twice in apology—once with his fingers and once with his mouth. You see him out at the end of the night. He was hoping to stay longer, perhaps get to fuck you after all, but you’re a busy woman, and you’ve got things to do early tomorrow morning.

Gaz doesn’t tell the rest of the boys about this particular hookup, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from Soap—but he keeps the memory of it close for long, lonely missions.

Price

Perhaps surprisingly, Price is your next victim hookup. He doesn’t get out much, but you manage to catch him on one of his rare nights off.

He takes you back to his place, a small but neat flat not far from the base he’s stationed at. There’s a fine layer of dust on all of the furniture, showing how rarely he’s home, and he’s amused by you jokingly asking if he’s actually breaking you into someone else’s apartment.

He pours you both a glass of wine, and you talk for a while as you drink, continuing to get to know one another. Well, it’s really just him getting to know you—he’s a private man, and he knows how to talk without actually saying much—but he finds that he doesn’t mind that. You’re quite a talented speaker, genuine and animated about every topic that comes to mind. Your little quirks and mannerisms only make you more attractive.

Once both your glasses are empty, and the two of you have drifted close enough to touch, he cups your chin in one hand and leans down to kiss you. He can feel you smile against his lips, and you pull away with a little giggle that makes his brows raise in curiosity.

“Your beard tickles,” you tell him, before sitting up a little more so you can kiss him again. It’s endlessly endearing, and he can’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, his cock chubbing up in his jeans. He’s eager to find out if his beard will tickle your cunt, too.

Not too long later, he gets his answer—a resounding yes—as well as discovers a new addiction. You taste like heaven, like well aged whiskey, like his favorite brand of cigars, and he suddenly realizes he no longer wants to die in the field in some fiery blaze of glory.

He’d much rather you just smother him with your cunt.

Unfortunately, he has a duty to his country, so he reluctantly shifts you off of him so he can breathe. It’s for the best, really, because he’s about to come just from eating you out. You don’t give him a chance to rest, though, moving down his body and sinking down onto his hard cock. You both gasp at the same time—Price from the pleasure, and you from the stretch. Clearly, you hadn’t realized just how thick he was, and now you’re tearing up and pouting while sat on his cock. He shushes you sweetly, stroking your cheek and rubbing your clit, enamored by the adorable picture you make. Soon enough, the sting fades, and you start riding him like your life depends on it. He plays with your tits the whole time, sucking and licking your nipples, his hands on your hips guiding your movements.

When he comes, it’s pure ecstasy. He’s never felt this good before, not even with his ex-wife. He knows then that he wants to keep you—and he can only hope that his seed filling your sweet pussy takes root deep in your womb.

Silly you forgot to put a condom on him, and of course, he didn’t see any reason to remind you. You sigh when you realize, and mutter something about getting the morning after pill. His grip tightens on your hips for a second, but he forces himself to relax. It’s only eighty percent effective, he tells himself. There’s still a chance.

Ghost

You meet Ghost next. You see him at the bar, all broad shoulders, bulky muscles, and towering height. But what makes you throw caution to the wind is the mask. You sidle on up to him, give him your signature sweet smile when he looks you up and down, and don’t let it phase you when he just grunts in reply to your greeting. It takes longer than it usually would to get Ghost back to your apartment—most guys are raring to go once you give them the signal—but after a few gentle touches, one long winded ramble about a topic you’re passionate about, and a couple shots, he gets that familiar look of want in his dark eyes, and you know you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker.

You don’t expect him to be a gentleman, but he insists on making you come on his fingers before he even takes his clothes off. It’s actually really fucking hot, and you’re even more eager than usual to return the favor. You sink down to your knees to try and suck him off, but he effortlessly hoists you back up and tosses you onto the bed, slowly undoing his belt and pulling it off. You spread your legs wide for him and bite your lip, half hoping he’ll snap the belt against your cunt or bind your wrists with it. Instead, he tosses it aside, opens up his fly, rolls on the condom, and presses inside you. He’s fucking massive, and you grasp one of his hands in yours as you whimper and whine through the stretch. He goes slow, at least until you’re adjusted—and then he’s obeying your demands as you order him to give it to you harder, faster, more, more, more.

Ghost has to keep stopping to just grind into you, because the way your tits bounce as he rails you, the sounds you’re making, and the tight, hot, wet grip of your pussy is too fucking much. He’s never been one for hookups really, hasn’t fucked anyone in ages, but there was something about you. Pretty face, beautiful body, and clearly into him, even with the mask—it’s not something he experiences often. He’s struck with the sudden urge to pull off the mask and kiss your lips, swallow every gorgeous gasp and moan you let out—but he can’t, won’t, so instead he buries his face in your neck, panting harshly as he thrusts into you, hard and fast, just like you’re begging for.

When it’s over, and he’s filled the condom with a frankly concerning amount of come, he stays buried deep in your pussy, with you pinned beneath him, his face still tucked into your neck. He doesn’t want to move, and the fact that you seem content to let him stay like that only makes him want you more.

When you finally shift like you want to get up, he has to fight the overwhelming urge to just ignore you. Instead, he finally pulls out of you and sits up, letting his eyes rove every inch of you as he does up his trousers. That little smile you give him makes his heart stutter, and he's torn between fleeing and begging you to let him stay.

You make the decision for him, thanking him for a great fuck and asking him if he needs you to call him an Uber.

Pride stinging and chest aching, Ghost walks back to the barracks.

Soap

Soap’s a stray dog that just wants a forever home. A handsome, lonely, loveable, eager mutt. So when he’s pounding into you in the back seat of your car because he was too excited to wait till you got back to your place, moaning and grunting and whining like the puppy he is, the words just slip out.

“Want ye, want ye tae be mine, please bonnie, want ye all fer myself.”

You coo at him, finding how pussy drunk he is adorable, and thread your fingers through his mohawk to pull him in for a kiss. He groans into your mouth as he comes, humping you through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You giggle, pulling back to nibble at his stubbled jaw as he pants in your ear.

“So?” He asks, voice wrecked but hopeful, and you feel a little bad when you realize his words weren’t just dirty talk. “What aboot it, lamb? Will ye be mine?”

“My pussy that good?” You tease him, trying to let him down easily. You can tell he realizes, his eyes tightening just a little in disappointment before his expression smooths back over into the cocky one he’d charmed his way into your pants with.

“Best I’ve ever had,” he answers, and you can hear the truth of it in his voice, even as he winks at you, holding up a two fingered salute. “Scot’s honor.”

“Pretty sure it’s scout’s honor,” you correct him, but he just smirks and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “Scot’s honor is better. We’re a loyal bunch.”

And Christ, but he’d be a loyal dog to you, if only you’d keep him.