#Gaz x Reader

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hey 😊👋 I love your Task Force 141 Imagines and finally had the courage to request one myself:

How would they react to the trend where their partner makes dinner but gives them the bigger portion and gives themselves only a small one with the excuse that "That's all we had left" ?

(I hope you understand what I mean)

I'm about 99.9% sure you're talking about the viral TikTok trend. That's what I interpreted the ask as (which is how I wrote it). Most of the time, those videos are pretty wholesome. Sometimes they aren't. But with regards to 141, they're gonna be wholesome about it. No body shaming. Not dismissive. Just walking green flags who are also done with your shit (because pranking them is just hilarious). Anyway! Enjoy!!!

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

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & practical jokes, humor, fluff, married couple, mild suggestive themes

Word Count: 1k

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

John Price

"Love, what is that?"

"That's all we had left."

"That's all we had left?" repeats John.

You shrug nonchalantly. There's plenty of food, enough for each of you and leftovers for tomorrow, but John doesn't need to know that...yet.

"It's fine,” you shrug. “I'm not that hungry so I gave you a bigger portion."

John's concern only worsens. "You did what?"

"I wasn’t hungry so I—"

“I heard what you said,” interrupts John. He points at your plate. “But there’s nothing on it.”

“I’ll be fine.”

"No," he says firmly, waving his hand. "No."

Without asking, he swaps your plates.

"John. Stop."

"I'm not that hungry," he says, repeating your own words back at you. "Ate more than enough at work. I don't need all this. You do."

You reach for the plate but he lifts it off the table, holding it out of reach. Part of you wants to scold him to carry on the rouse, but instead you're giggling.

"Not sure what's funny,” grumbles John.

"There's more,” you laugh, covering your mouth.

"There's—” John glances between you and the kitchen. John rolls his eyes but he's trying to hold back a smile. “You naughty fucking thing."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You place a plate piled high with food in front of Kyle.

“Thanks, babe.” He glances up at you, grinning. His gaze shifts to your plate, smile fading into confusion. You purposely gave yourself less just to see his reaction.

“I forgot forks.” You walk back into the kitchen. “You want a fork, right?”

“Yeah,” replies Kyle slowly, now pointing at your plate. “But…what is that?”

You return to the table. “That’s all we had left.”

Lies. There’s plenty left.

“But why is mine full and yours—” He gestures at your plate.

You feign confusion. “You work really hard. You need it.”

“This,” says Kyle pointing at his own plate. “Is a lot.” He then points at your plate. “That’s not.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re taking some of mine.”

“Kyle—”

“Don’t argue with me.”

You pick up your fork, intending to eat, but Kyle is quick, snatching your plate right off the table and swapping it with his. He keeps your plate in his hand, shoving you away when you try to reach for it.

“Sit,” he commands.

“Kyle.”

He ignores you, clearing the plate in a couple of bites.

“Kyle,” you scold, but you’re giggling, dropping the guise.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks, glancing around.

Unable to keep control of your composure, you point in the direction of the kitchen. Frowning, Kyle follows your index finger. He takes a few steps into the kitchen and comes to a dead stop.

He slowly spins on his heel, his expression so exasperated that you burst out laughing. With a loud sigh, Kyle returns to the table, swapping the empty plate for the full one.

Dropping into his seat, Kyle shakes his head. “Get yourself a real portion and then come join me.” Then, with a smirk, “You little terror.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny reclines on the sofa, completely absorbed in the rugby match on the television.

With you, is dinner. Two plates, one for each of you. You’ve loaded Johnny’s plate, but have hardly filled yours. It’s just a prank. A test to see if he notices anything.

He has a knack for not paying attention to the smaller details. Sometimes Johnny is so distracted whenever there is a game on that he's oblivious to everything else around him. One time—just to see—you walked around completely naked. It took nearly a full fifteen minutes for him to realize it.

You casually take a seat next to him, offering Johnny his plate.

"Thank you," he says, taking it without removing his gaze from the television.

You keep your plate in your lap, casually moving the few bites of food around while taking incredibly small bites.

Johnny chews. Watches. Still oblivious to your tiny portion.

You purposefully bang your fork against the side of the plate.

He does a double take. "What’s that?"

"What’s what?"

"That.”

You shrug. "It’s all we had left."

With a growl that’s more groan, Johnny starts pushing his food off his plate and onto yours.

"Johnny. No. That's your food." He tuts, not saying anything. "I'm fine." you insist, trying to push his plate away.

“No, love,” says Johnny. He settles back onto the sofa and gives your cheek a quick peck.

You wait a beat. "There's plenty of food."

Johnny turns. Blinks. "Oh, aye?" He grabs your plate and dumps the food back on his.

"Johnny!"

"You’re having a right laugh.” He gestures toward the kitchen. “Go on.”

As you stand, he gives your ass a light smack. When you turn to swat his hand, you’re greeted with his cheeky grin.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The plate you set before Simon is nearly overflowing.

"Thank you, love," he murmurs, placing his hand at your back.

You lean in, giving him a quick kiss. He accepts it with a soft smile, lightly squeezing your thigh before you step away to grab your own plate.

Compared to Simon’s portion, your plate is practically empty. It’s really only a few bites, but it’s just for kicks. There is plenty still left in the kitchen. You just want to fuck with Simon.

When you set your plate down and fall into your seat, Simon’s attention immediately focuses in on the lack of sustenance.

He leans forward a bit, staring you down, silent.

“What?” you ask, pretending that this is all perfectly normal.

He keeps staring.

“What is it?” you prompt.

“No.”

No. Just—no.

You blink. "No? No what?”

Simon sucks his fork clean and tosses it onto the table, still shaking his head. You’re losing. It’s hardly started and you’ve lost.

“It’s all that’s left!”

He shakes his finger at you, walking away and into the kitchen. “I know you,” he says over his shoulder. “You’re taking the piss.”

Goddamn it.

Simon sees right through you. Always does.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[beloveds-embrace]

Sooo much angstttttttttttt 😭

I need the boys to wake up and do whatever it takes to fix it, please, I can't take the angst 😭😭😭

Does this count as fix-it? 🤔 hope you enjoy, anon! Also this turned out far longer than i thought it would lol

First Part

Another shift slowly happens within the duchy, palpable. The whispers of servants echo louder than ever, growing sharp and cutting in the empty halls you once used to frequent. They still avoid you, but now they wonder and whisper of your health. It’s not just them; the men you’d once hoped you’d at least be on an amicable basis with slowly change as well, the longer your absence haunts the halls and galas.

John is the first to act. It’s hesitant at first, awkward even, as though he can’t figure out how to approach the shattered remains of what he’s ignored for so long. He stands outside your door one evening, his shadow stretching under the flickering candlelight, fist raised to knock. But he doesn’t. Not at first. He falters, as if the weight of his guilt roots him to the spot.

When he finally does knock, it’s tentative, barely audible.

“…Are you awake?” His voice carries a softness you’ve never heard before, but it grates against your numbness.

You don’t answer. Your eyes barely flick towards the door, not moving from where you are curled on your side.

He lingers, sighs, and leaves.

You had intended to let yourself waste away, in all honesty. Only your mother doesn’t let you; she bursts into your room one day, sneers at the miserable sight you make, and insults you to the high heavens. Nothing new, even if her digs hurt, even if she says she isn’t surprised by no one loving you when you are like this, but she forces you to eat some nibbles and then into a shower; she doesn’t care. She is simply tired of having you be an embarrassment and hiding away from the public eye.

Thus, you no longer stay in your room. You don’t bother with jewelry, with heavy gowns or complicated hair styles or even clearing the layer of dust off your furniture, you just leave your room. Thankfully,

Unfortunately, that means passing by the maids and servants. It means passing by them. It means interacting with them again, though no longer initiated by you.

Simon is the second, and less direct. He lingers in places you begin to re-frequent; the library, the gardens, the corridors near your room. He doesn’t speak, just watches from the periphery, eyes heavy and intense. Once, when you brush past him without acknowledging his presence, he mutters something under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. But he doesn’t try to stop you and you don ask what he said.

He probably didn’t mean you, anyways. You doubt he wants to speak to you, the obstacle.

Johnny falters the most. Though your interactions with him were few, you’d occasionally hear from the servants about how fun he is in general. His smiles, though they’ve never been aimed at you, look quite fake to you, jokes half-hearted and dying on his lips whenever you pass on rare occasions.

One day, he brings a tray of food to your room himself, hoping to coax you into eating with something he’s cooked just for you. You answer the door, see him holding it, and shake your head without a word. Even if it looks delectable, like the dishes John would get.

“Please,” he says, his voice cracking. “I- just try a bit, hen.”

But you close the door before he can say more. He will try again and often, sometimes just leaving the tray, but you never touch it. You’ve lost weight, you know, and the only reason you are getting some nutrients at this point is because you occasionally sneak into the kitchens late at night for tiny snacks to tide you over. If Johnny knows it’s you, he’s never said anything.

Kyle is quieter, yet more present. The guilt eats away at him the most; he knows that his lack of care and respect had a part in the way the rest of the maids and staff treated you. He spends his evenings pacing the hall outside your room, his head bowed, mumbling apologies that you’ll never hear, wondering which one is best.

Once, he catches you in the garden alone, his mouth opening as if to speak, but you pass him without so much as a glance; you already know he won’t care for you have to say or ask for, he’ll just say he is busy, so you just don’t bother.

He stays frozen in place, his hand half-raised, the words stuck in his throat.

The servants, per Kyle and John’s orders, begin to change. Their guilt is slower to manifest, but it’s there and it’s evident in the way they rush to fulfill your needs despite your reluctance. They clean your room with quiet efficiency, no longer treating you like a burden, even though you hadn’t asked it of them. They leave fresh flowers on your desk and vanity, extra blankets on your bed, and freshly pressed gowns in your wardrobe.

You ignore all of it. It’s a waste of everyone’s time snd effort. You aren’t worth it.

Yet despite their heavy guilt, they return to and continue serving you.

But nothing changes the heaviness in your chest, the emptiness that refuses to leave.

One day, closer to the date of the annual winter gala hosted by the emperial family, you step into the dining room unannounced, your presence startling them all. It’s the first time you’ve joined them in weeks. You move slowly, your posture rigid and tired, your expression unreadable.

“Duchess,” John starts, his voice uncertain, rising from his seat.

“…John,” You sit without meeting his eyes, your movements slow and deliberate. The table is silent, the tension suffocating as John, Simon, and Kyle exchange uncertain glances.

John clears his throat. “It’s good to see you, wife.”

You don’t respond.

The meal is awkward, stilted, but it’s necessary for you; you need to get reused to John for your eventual reappearance in high society. Johnny offers you dishes with a hesitant, hopeful look in his eyes, and Kyle pours your wine with an unsteady grip. John and Simon try to start a conversation, but their words falter and fade when you don’t reply.

Still, they try. Over the following weeks, their efforts grow.

John begins carving out time to spend with you, awkwardly hovering near your door, waiting for even a crumb of acknowledgment. He starts leaving small notes for you- apologies and quiet promises to be better. They pile up on your desk, untouched but not thrown away. You want to believe, but you feel jaded and tired.

Simon offers you quiet companionship, instead. Standing at your side in the garden or library, saying nothing but ensuring you’re not alone. He speaks softly when he does talk, a one-sided conversation with only the occasional hum or noise from you, but he’s undeterred.

Johnny keeps cooking for you, leaving trays of food outside your door with little notes attached: Eat a bit, bonnie. Just for me. You don’t eat much, still have very little appetite, but you do start taking bites here and there, and it’s enough to keep him trying.

Kyle offers small acts of service- holding doors open for you, keeping anything you might need available at hanf, ensuring your rooms are kept warm and comfortable. His words are rare, but his actions speak of endless guilt and the quiet hope that he can earn even a sliver of forgiveness.

The maids and butlers follow suit, their movements quieter, their service more thoughtful. They stop muttering, their eyes full of remorse whenever they see you. They bow in respect, and no longer treat you as if you aren’t a part of the duchy.

But you keep them all at arm’s length. Their guilt is evident, their efforts genuine, but the wounds they’ve left on your heart are deep. Forgiveness, if it ever comes, will not be easily earned. For now, you let them try, watching their clumsy attempts with a mixture of numbness and quiet satisfaction (that you do feel guilty over, but truly can’t help).

Several weeks before the gala, John comes to your office. He sits down, and waits until you are finished with your paperwork before he speaks. You are in a beautiful dress- Simon’s gift- and your hair is in a delicate style, done by your maids. You look pretty. You feel nice, even if the numbness remains. These days, it’s less.

“Duchess, I was thinking,” he began, voice soft and patient. “it might do you some good to get away for a while. A change of scenery.”

You turned to look at him, the suggestion pulling you from your numb reverie. His blue eyes searched yours, and for once, there was no coldness, no distance. “Somewhere quiet,” he continued, “where you can rest… away from all of this.”

The idea of leaving the suffocating walls of the manor, and the heavy tension of the duchy was tempting. And yet, you hesitated, unsure if you could trust the gesture or if it was just another attempt to smooth over appearances.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he added quickly, as if sensing your doubt. “You won’t have to worry about a thing. You can choose who you’d like to go with, or even if you want to go alone. It’s entirely up to you, Duchess.”

Johnny and Kyle appeared in the doorway then, Kyle holding a tray with a steaming cup of tea, Johnny with a small, hopeful smile and a plate of your favorite biscuits. Even Simon lingered near the threshold, his gaze steady but tinged with something softer than usual.

They were all waiting for your answer, their expressions almost pleading. You could feel the weight of their guilt and the sincerity of their offer. It wasn’t much- not enough to erase everything that had passed- but it was something. A step forward.

“…I’ll think about it.” you said at last, your voice quiet but firm. And for the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of relief in their eyes.

[ghostsforghosts]

The 141 boys with a partner who isn't what people expect. Because they love you regardless of how you are, damn what society thinks.

You're not conventionally attractive? Beauty is subjective and Soap is happily kissing each and every part of yourself that you are insecure about. He will tell you all of the ways you make him feral for you.

You're not skinny/not physically fit? Gaz loves the extra fat you have, loves to grip your love handles when you two are having sex. He loves your curves and how your body is unique to you.

You're not a woman (could be a man or nonbinary)? Price doesn't give a shit about what society says about him for dating someone who is not a woman. Love is love and he's still the same soldier he is at the end of the day, regardless of your gender.

You have a disability (physical or mental)? Ghost will gladly accommodate to your needs because he loves you for you, which includes whatever disability you have. He will shut down any thoughts of you being a burden on him, whether you say you are or if someone else says it.

Just... the 141 boys and them defending you from what society thinks.

Requests are open!

[ghouljams]

Protege!Gaz taking CEO!Price's assistant to dinner after a long week, plying you with the magic words: "this company would fall apart without you." Commiserating with you about Price, letting you talk his ear off about his mentor. You're so used to the way Price eyes your chest that you miss the way Gaz's eyes linger on your ass every time you get up to grab a drink, or the fact that he isn't really joining in on your trashing Price, or the fact that his compliments are just shy of polite...

You don't miss the way he smiles when he snaps a picture of you to send to Price, or the way he coos that you looked "so pretty leaned over the bar" he just couldn't help it. And don't worry about all those nasty things you said about Price, it'll be just between the two of you(and the recording on his phone, "accidentally" sent to Price in the morning so he can choke his cock to the way you spit his name).

[vaquerolvr]

HII love your texting aus

maybe like something where either reader or them said i love you and have obviously avoided the other person since? but the other person clearly loves them back?

saying something stupid like “i love you”

synopsis: getting ghosted after saying ily

ੈ✩‧₊˚ price, gaz, ghost, soap, alejandro, rudy, graves, makarov

cw: none?

an: i’m so bad at writing anything that isn’t crack but i tried 😔

dividers from @/saradika-graphics :)

[quillcraftconquer]

Simon, who never wanted a dog. He didn't mind dogs, always stopping to give them a quick pat on the side, and he didn't mind his friends' dogs coercing him to toss a ball for a couple of hours. He just never envisioned himself owning a dog. He spent too much time away from home, and god forbid if anything happened to him, who would even take his dog? 

Still, despite all of his unanswered questions, when he met the tan, leggy stray on a mission that followed him around like he already owned it, he couldn't help but feed it scraps from his dinner, let it sit too close, talk to it whenever everyone else went to bed. 

It wasn't a cute dog. Its body was nicked with tiny scars from its time spent on the streets, and Simon was well aware of the bugs running through its scruffy fur. Its legs were far too tall for its body, accompanied by a small, pointed head with ears too big that stood up when something caught its eye, or drooped comically low when he was relaxed. 

Price complained relentlessly about the “damn dog” that followed Simon to every dinner, whining and scratching at the door when they went to bed, always under their feet while he was trying to walk around the base. It wasn’t until he walked into the showers, making eye contact with Simon and Gaz knelt on the floor, the damn dog enjoying the last remnants of hot water and the empty box of flea medicine tilted against the wall that he knew it was a losing battle, the dog was going to stick around. 

Simon, who didn't want a dog, but spent more money than he had on anything else to bring it home, buy it a nice bed, and a thick leather collar. 

It wasn’t until he stood in the vet's office, watching you run the metal tag through the engraving machine with his information on it that he realized the dog was his. Simon told himself he came here because you were nice to his dog, not commenting on his unique looks or bad behaviors, and how your eyes didn't linger on the dog's scars (or his, foregoing the masks when he did stop in.)

You, of course, didn't mind Simon’s gruff exterior, the way he mumbled ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to your questions, but talked extensively when it came to his dog.You laughed at the way Simon’s nose crinkled when you discussed neutering, or different training methods. You said nothing when Simon would always answer “Not my dog, just a stray.”, but always paid for the best food, treats, and care, almost as if he was convincing himself the dog wasnt going to stick around (because what did in Simon’s life?)

You especially didn't mind when Simon brought up boarding, stating he had to leave for a few weeks. You jumped at the chance, determined to show him that his dog could learn just a few house manners. You let him drop the dog off at your home, gave him access to the cameras, let him survey the yard. 

And if you had known, you wouldn't have minded the late nights Simon was halfway across the world, laying on some shitty bed with security cameras pulled up, watching the dog- his dog- take its signature 3 circles before plopping down on the outdoor couch next to you. 

It was for the dog, he told himself. It definitely didn't have to do with the too tight, too short christmas pajamas you wore in, yes, June, (he had to check the calendar, feeling like he had somehow missed 6 months of the year.) It didn't have to do with the way your fingers lazily dragged over the dog's fur, or the way you pinched the bridge of your nose when the dog tore up another cushion Simon would replace. 

Simon’s thumb punched the side of the phone, the screen darkening as he laid it against his chest, eyes staring up at the darkened ceiling.

It was just about the dog.

[codnasties]

public fuck w/gaz 🧢 (🌽 link)

there isn't enough stuff of gaz being a freak out there, so i'm putting this out there: if you are able to get him horny enough and he gets fed up with your teasing, there is no stopping the man, he's fucking you anywhen and anywhere. like he doesn't even care about getting caught or any of that shit.

imagine you were out on a mall doing some shopping. and you kept trying on some of those dresses that you knew drove him crazy, the ones that hug your curves nicely and that accentuate your ass in the best way possibe. he knew you were doing that on purpose, that you were teasing him.

that's why he makes you deal with the consecuences of your own actions. he pulls you onto the emergency staircase - private enough for him to fuck you nicely but with a high enough chance of getting caught .

he pulls your clothes down just enough to be able to push his hard dick into you, bends you over the railing and starts plowing into you, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass resonating all over the stairs. he may even cum inside of you and make you walk around the mall with his seed staining your panties adn you fighting for it to not drip down.

he's actually getting of on the idea that someone may walk in on the two of you and see you going dumb on his cock.

[whateveriwant]

Ghost is the type of dad that, when his kids ask the origins of their nicknames, he gives them only half-truths (e.g., Yes they’re called ‘LT’ because they remind Simon of himself, but what he doesn’t tell them is ‘LT’ is also short for ‘Little Terror’.)

Gaz is the type of dad that, when his kids say something like “I’m hungry” or “I’m tired”, he hits them with the “Nice to meet you, Hungry! I’m Kyle.”

Soap is the type of dad that, when his kids need to be humbled a little bit, he refers to them collectively as “my sperms”.

Price is the type of dad that, when his kids are in big big trouble, he roars firmly calls for them by their first, middle, and last names.

[parkersbliss]

the 141 and their obsessed girlfriend

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

synopsis: you love your boyfriend, maybe a little too much that some of the things you say are... concerning to say the least.

warnings: kind of gory for simon, sexual innuendo, death threat, reader is just unhinged and in love with her man fr

a/n: if you get it, you get it. these all may or may nOT be things I've said to my boyfriend to which he said I was "batshit crazy but in a sexy way"

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

—

Ghost:

You sigh, laying your head down on Simon’s chest. His reaction is instinctive, an arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You snuggle further into him, his warmth radiating onto your skin. A reminder to you of where your home truly was. 

You can hear his heartbeat in his chest, pumping at a steady pace. You count each thump, rhythmic and soft. Faintly, you hear the sound of air moving in and out of his lungs and the slight bubbling of his stomach from the food you had eaten earlier. 

Simon’s hand strokes your lower back, drawing circles as his eyes focus on the rugby match. He’s unaware of his actions, something he’s too used to when he lies with you. He likes feeling the warmth, the subtle pulse, and shivers. It’s a reminder that you’re real. 

You’re too lost in his heartbeat to hear the narration of the game. There was something so comforting to listen to him, affirming what you knew was true. Your boyfriend was alive, his heart circulating the blood through his body. You push yourself further into his chest, wanting to be closer. You couldn’t get any closer, you knew that, but you needed to be. There was some part of you that kept urging for it.��

“Simon,” You call out. 

He looks down at you. “Hm?”

You meet his eyes. “I want to cut through your skin, open your ribcage, and feel your heart.” You said it casually, not faltering and maintaining eye contact with him. You needed to crawl into his chest and live there, be one with him. Closer. 

Simon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink at your words. “I’d want nothing more than to have you cradle my heart in your hands.” 

You move to straddle him, resting your legs on either side of his hips and leaning your chin on his sternum so you can really look at him. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

He scoffs. “Quite the opposite.”

“Even if I want to live inside your chest?”

“If I could make that happen, I would.” He runs a hand through your hair, tugging gently at the knots. 

You smile at him. “I’d let you live in mine and use my lungs as your personal trampoline.” 

Simon chuckles a beautiful sound to you and lets his hand rest on your hips. “I would be honored.” 

You trace patterns on his chest, huffing. “I just want to live in you.” 

“Unfortunately, you’ll just have to settle for my dick in you.”

You purse your lips from on top of him. “I guess that’ll do.”

Gaz:

You set your phone on the bedside table, lying on your side to look at your boyfriend. He was shirtless, with nothing but his briefs on in bed. Your eyes trace up and down him, taking in all the curves of his muscles and the lines of his abs to the slight stubble of a beard and the downward slope of his nose. God, he was so pretty. 

As if on cue, he turns to look at you. “What?” He murmurs in that voice of his. Kind, but a hint of grit to it. He made it so easy for your thoughts to run wild. You wanted to have his kids. See his eyes in them, the curve of his nose. Actually, scratch that you wanted—“I wanna get you pregnant,” You blurt out. 

Kyle laughs, loud. He isn’t sure he quite heard you correctly. He hopes he did, but then again, you did have a knack for breaking silence with something worth talking about. “What?” 

“I wanna get you pregnant,” You repeat. 

He stills, staring at you and how your face is unwavering. He’s not quite sure what to make of that sentence. He stares at you, your lips pursed in thought and eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief. “That’s simply not possible.” 

“I know,” You said. “But I just want to be able to like fuck you for once.” 

“Oh my god.” 

You shake your head, suddenly aware of how unhinged you sound. But that’s just what Kyle did to you. You were downright obsessed with him. Everything about him made your thoughts melt into a pile of mush and goo. One look at him had you practically reeling. You couldn’t fathom how he was real and yours, nonetheless. “Sorry! You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s like I need to bend you ov—,” 

“Babe,” He cuts you off. “Okay! I get it.” 

“No, but like—,"

He raises his brows at you. “It’s not biologically possible.” He restates, emphasizing that he was not letting that happen and neither was the world. Thank god, he thinks. 

You flop down onto your back on the bed with a groan. “So unfair. We should be like seahorses.” 

Kyle hums, choosing to humor you. “Uh-huh, sorry babe.” 

“I’m just so obsessed with you. I have so many feelings I just… I don’t know what to do with it.” 

Kyle’s hand traces up and down your arm. “Well, we could start with not getting me pregnant.” He moves to situate himself on top of you, pressing his nose into your neck. “But maybe there’s a compromise here, hm?” He kisses the soft skin, and once again, your brain melts into nothing. He was so good to you. He made it easy for you to forget everything in the world but his name on your tongue. So you couldn’t get him pregnant. There was a better idea ahead. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Soap: 

You sat at the table next to Johnny, coffee in hand. You both sit in silence, observing the people passing by on the street. You make note of a man frantically texting on his phone, a little girl chasing after a bird, a couple clinging on to each other. 

People watching. A favorite pastime for the two of you. 

You watch as a girl walks by, her gaze lingering on your boyfriend a second longer than you’d like. Her eyes rake up and down his figure, and she pulls out her phone, no doubt texting someone. 

You turn to Johnny, who’s oblivious to it. “I’m going to fucking kill her.”

His head snaps towards you. “What, love?” 

“That girl,” You gesture with your head. “I’m going to kill her.” 

“Why?” 

“She looked at you.” 

Your boyfriend nearly spits out his coffee. “So you’re gonna kill her?” 

You glare at him. “That’s merciful.” 

“Oh really?” He jests you. 

You nod your head, setting down your coffee and pulling out your phone. “If I really wanted to fuck with her, then I could find her home address and slightly misplace all the objects in her flat and watch her go insane.”

Johnny stares at you, concern etched into his face. His eyes sweep your face for any ounce of joke, but he knows you’renot. He always wanted a possessive girlfriend. “You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy about you,” You correct. “If I ever see anyone look at you like that again, I’m going to call an airstrike on them.” 

He grabs your hands. “Love, you never have to worry about anyone else.”

“I don’t worry. They should worry. If they wanna stare, then they can stare at the ceiling before I gouge their eyes out.” 

Johnny sighs. He loves you, truly. But to say you weren’t sometimes a little unhinged was an understatement. You always had a jealous streak about you, it’s what initially drew him in. That fire he saw in your eyes, dangerous but beckoning him closer. The idea of a possessive girlfriend really did turn him on. It was just moments like these that he wished he could carry around a giant sign that said “Please don’t look at me unless you wanna die.” 

“You’re something else, you know?” He asked, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

You melt a little at the gesture, and he can see your shoulders relax. “You’re mine.” 

He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “True, and you never have to do that. So please stop threatening random people on the street in public.” 

You smile at him. He was so sweet. “You’ll never find a bitch crazier than me, baby.” 

“I never want to,” Johnny insists. “Though, you can show me crazy in a different way…” 

You can see his eyes sparkling with something and you bite your lip, grabbing his hands. “Let’s go home.” 

Price:

You’re sat next to Price on the couch. He’s got a hand slung over your shoulder, keeping you close as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. He was warm, a giant teddy bear covered in rippling muscles. His beard scratches the top of your head, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, you love the feeling of it when you’re kissing. The soft pinch of his hair against your face. 

But honestly, you loved everything about him. There wasn’t one thing about him you could dislike. Well, maybe that he was gone so long sometimes. In reality, it just made you want him more though. It created special moments like this, where you knew time was futile. 

You sigh, playing with the hairs of his beard. You feel like them against your fingertips, pinching and prodding. 

You gaze up at your husband, his blue eyes focused on the screen and dark lashes contrasting with his pale skin. 

“Honey,” You murmur.

He hums, looking down at you. “Yes?” 

You cock your head at him. “I want to take your beard hair and make it into matching sweaters for us.” 

Price, unfazed by most things, is fazed by this. He could take a bullet, and wouldn’t flinch at a grenade or a gun pointed at his face. But that. 

That was a sentence he wasn’t sure how to unpack. 

“What?” He asked. 

You giggle a little. “You know, the clippings in the bathroom. What if I started collecting them to make a sweater?” 

Price nods, humoring you. “Darling, please don’t do that.” 

“Why not?” You pout, sticking out your bottom limit. 

“That would be itchy,” He insists. “My beard is already itchy enough. You don’t want to wear it too.” 

You don’t, he’s right. You just wanted to say something to see his face contort. He was so comfortable around you that it made it easy to catch him off guard. And really, a part of you was that obsessed with him. 

“Fair point, I suppose,” You concede. 

He’s surprised you surrender so easily. “You don’t already have a collection going, do you?” 

You laugh, patting his chest. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

He pauses. “No, I would not.” You snuggle closer to him, going back to playing with his beard. His arm drops to your waist, giving it a squeeze. “You’re insane, my dear.” 

You grin up at him, planting a kiss on his lips. “In more ways than one.” 

Price kisses you back, sneaking his hands under your shirt and higher. “Amen.” 

He was never religious, but that man did get on his knees for you.

-- END --

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🏷 taglist: @trxpslxt @looking1016 @the-kakawshi-bird

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | New Glasses

 John finds you reclining on the couch. Bowl of popcorn chips resting on your stomach and mask, cool and slimy, on your face.

“So, we not going on a date tonight?”

The casual way he drops the statement belies the gravity of it.

The moment it takes to process through your exhausted brain is the only moment of peace for the rest of the night.

Jumping to your feet the chips go flying as your mask slides off your face and into the now empty bowl.

“It’s Monday!” You shout as you stare at him in horror. “Fuck, I will be ready in ten minutes.”

Before you can sink to your knees to clean up your mess John takes you by the hand and deposits you at your room. With a smiling kiss to your cheek he promises to clean up the mess and turn off the TV.

You wipe your face with a makeup wipe and panic spin before shouting down the hall.

“John! What should I wear?”

“Closed toed shoes and layers dove,” he shouted back.

“Layers and clothes toed shoes,” you mutter to yourself on repeat as you start digging around for a clean pair of jeans and a set of matching socks.

“Oh, and no makeup if you feel comfortable. It will melt off.”

His loud voice and words make you pause.

“What the hell are we doing that would cause my make up to melt off?” You ask the empty room.

Eleven minutes later you are knotting the laces of your shoes and pushing off the couch to follow John to his car. It’s practical, how like him. He catches sight of your small smirk at his vehicle.

“What? Not as fancy as Johnny’s?”

Busting out laughing you drop a hand onto his shoulder for support. Johnny had the oldest, ugliest truck you had ever seen.

He smiles down at you, cheeks pulling up to cause crinkles around his eyes. You loved when he smiled that big, with his whole face. It made your heart so happy.

John walked you to the passanger door, opening it for you with a bow and a wink.

“My lady.”

You give a curtsey with your imaginary skirt before rolling your eyes and climbing in and buckling your seat belt.

“So, John, what is the silliest situation you have ever ended up in because of your job?”

“Let me think,” he focuses on driving as he does. “Had to be the time I told the president of US a crass joke.”

“How the hell did you manage that?” You gape at him from the opposite seat.

“Was playing bodyguard at a conference, there was only one man in the room while we were waiting for the VIP and I made a joke to break the tension.”

“What did he do?” You prompt, there has to be more to this conversation.

“He looked at me odd before busting out in laughter. I didn’t realize my mistake until the meeting started and he got introduced to the room. We made eye contact and I have never felt my face go that red before,” John offers you a hand to hold between the seats.

You take it, enjoying the roughness of his palms and the width of his fingers between yours.

“What about you?” John asks.

“What about me what?”

“Tell me the silliest interaction you have had working as a barista.”

“Whew, that might take all night. Top of mind though, was the guy who showed up at the wrong coffee shop for a first date.”

“How long did it take him to figure it out?”

“An hour,” you emphasize the last word. “He thought he had been stood up.”

John laughed at the man’s misfortune. The drive went on like that, trading stories back and forth until John pulled up outside of a pretty nondescript building with a large overhead door that cars typically went through. No cars would fit through this one though, the opening showed tables and decorative glass pieces.

“You know I didn’t ask before but what are we doing on this date?” You ask as you stare at the beautiful and intricate works of blown glass.

“We are making some blown glass pieces. You can do an ornament for Christmas or a cup,” John steps from the car with a finger up to ask for your patience.

Appreciating the way he moves you watch him round the car. Smiling up at him as he opens the door you take the offered hand, sliding the fingers of your left hand into his. Entering the spacious building you look around at the orbs hanging artfully along one wall.

“Hi guys, welcome in. Do you have an appointment?” A young woman with blonde beach waves greats you, eyes jumping straight to John.

You can’t blame her, he is an attractive man, despite the funny facial hair decisions he makes sometimes.

“We do, the couples hour under the last name Price?”

You almost didn’t catch it but he tilted your hand to so she couldn’t see your lack of ring. Smiling up at him he winks at you when he glances from the receptionist. Two small taps to your nose confirm your understanding.

“Okay, are you wanting to do an ornament or a cup?” The blonde asks in a slightly more subdued tone.

“Cup for me, love?”

John turns to you.

“Cup for me as well please.”

“Okay, you can pick up to two colors and whether or not you want a band on your cup. Al will be with you shortly.”

You pull John to look over your options. The date doesn’t leave a lot of room for talking, but warm glances while standing at the furnace, slowly working with Al to keep the slug of molten glass spinning. Whoever decided on when to have newbies help with this process understood the lack of skill the average John would have.

Glad you avoided putting on make-up on John’s recommendation, you wipe at the back of your neck where sweat has started to collect. Once the cups were settled into the annealing oven, you did find stepping from the studio a startling refreshing experience.

“I had fun John. Thank you,” you infuse as much warmth and honesty into your words as you can manage.

He pulls your interlocked hands to his lips, dropping a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Bonus is that I get to take you out again when they are ready for pickup,” he lifts both brows at you from under his hat.

“All that means is I get to spend more time with you. What a hardship,” you roll your eyes as your sarcasm lands.

John scoops you close with a spin.

“Come on brat, let’s get you some food. I know you didn’t eat enough today.” He nuzzles his beard into the space between your shoulder and chin.

You squeal and pull away, “Hey, I resemble that remark!”

He smiles again, wide and full at you.

“Get in the car love.”

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[al0velyuniverse]

Body Shots

I woke up in a cold sweat to write this and it went from a short little paragraph to a four part series, please enjoy

●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

Pt.1 | Pt.2 |

CW: Drinking (duh), drunk sex, (oral male!receiving), exhibition (kinda? In a loose term), mentions of Simon sharing you with the team

The first time you suggested body shots you were in your boyfriend Simon’s apartment drinking with his team. 

Johnny and Gaz sat at the kitchen counter, chatting about something unimportant. You and Simon sat on the couch, but he was turned away from you talking to Price. You were feeling incredibly bored so you spoke, “I think body shots could be fun right now., don’t you boys?” When the words left your lips all conversation ceased and you could see all of their eyes light up, thinking they’re about to not only see you topless but they get to lick you. What nobody excepted; however, was for you to gently push Simon onto his back on the couch. When you asked, Gaz scrambled to find and hand you the supplies without a second thought. The room was silent except for the quiet radio as everyone watched you pull Simon’s shirt up, sprinkle a trail of salt onto his chest, and place a lime wedge between his lips. A strained “fuck” left Johnny’s lips when you moved to straddle Simon. You could have sworn you saw Johnny and Gaz adjust themselves in sync when you leaned down to slowly lick the salt off of Simon’s chest. You threw back the shot of tequila with ease before taking the lime from Simon’s mouth with your own. With a self satisfied smirk on your face and the attention of all four men in the room you sat back up properly. “Anyone else want a turn?” Unfortunately nobody else would get a turn that night, Simon demanding they all get lost. You stood to let him physically push everyone out of the door, laughing at the chorus of ‘boos’ and complaints that you two received. 

When the door finally shut Simon whipped around and grabbed you by the hair, using his grip to push you to your knees with one hand and undo his fly with the other. “Think you’re cheeky huh? Think it’s funny to let ‘em think they get to put their mouths on you, just to be a fuckin’ tease and make ‘em all watch you take the shot instead?” His words surprised you for a moment, he wasn’t mad that you implied his team could put their mouths on you…oh no, he was pissed because you made them think they could and then denied them. The realization sent chills down your spine, but before you could get any words in either to tease him or poke at the idea of him sharing you Simon was forcing your mouth open. “C’mon luv, open up for me. You were so eager to use your mouth earlier. Let’s see you do it again yeah?”

Simon laid his leaking tip on your tongue when you stuck it out for him. You looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes you knew made him crazy as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. The taste of his pre-cum mixing with the aftertaste of the shot you had just taken caused you to let out an involuntary moan. As if acting on some primal instinct Simon pushed your head as far down as you could go, 3/4 of the way his pushing was met with resistance “come on sweet’eart…swallow. Swa-yeah, attagirl.”” You manage to get those last few inches down your throat, your nose brushing against those pretty blonde curls at his base. Your hands reached up to brace yourself on his thighs as he started to move your head, using your mouth like his own personal toy. The gagging and slurping sounds that emitted from you were downright filthy, and your looked matched the sounds. Saliva covering your chin and dripping down onto your chest. After what felt like forever but was probably just a few minutes or so your boyfriend pulled you off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’. Your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath. Simon let go of your hair and moved to sit back on the couch, you didn’t dare move a muscle.  Once he was comfortable he looked you over and patted his lap. The simple non-verbal command and you stripping your bottoms and moving to straddle his lap.

You were already soaked and both of you knew it. “You this fuckin’ wet just from sucking me off dove?” His words were accompanied by the feeling of his finger sliding across your slit, gathering up some of the wetness that leaked from you. The gentle touch alone had you bucking your hips, an action that was quickly halted by Simons free hand gripping your thigh. “Wait” His voice dark and rough and had that ’don’t fuck with me’ tone that made your stomach do backflips. You watched with wide eyes as Simon brought his finger to his lips and sucked your slick off of his finger. “Fuckin’ divine you know that luv?”  Your response came in the form of a desperate whimper and another attempt to grind your aching cunt against his cock. It was right there, so close and still wet from your saliva.

Simon let out a chuckle before lifting your hips a little so he could properly position himself, lining up with your hole in a practiced manner that came from far too much couch sex. He helped you slowly lower yourself down onto him, letting you accommodate to the stretch. “Thats it. Thats a good girl, just like that,” When you were properly sat you both let out a shuddery breath. No matter how many times he fucked you his size was still a shock to your body that you had to adjust to, but once you were ready your hips became an unstoppable force. Not that Simon would want to stop the way you bounced up and down, moved back and forth, greedy walls gripping him and trying to suck him back in every time you pulled up even a little. It was absolute heaven for both of you and it was bringing you closer to your orgasm faster than you cared to admit. 

Your moans raised in pitch the closer you got to your orgasm “Simon..Si..Simons please im-“ He covered your mouth with his hand quickly. “Not yet, please…just a little longer, wanna fuck your cunt for just al little longer. You can wait cant you doll?” You whined in protest but nodded nevertheless, you couldn’t say no to him. Especially when his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes squeezed shut as his hips rammed up into yours, the feeling making you borderline delirious. Simon didn’t tell you that you were allowed to cum yet , at least not verbally. Instead he reached a hand down between your bodies to rub at your poor sensitive and neglected clit, it was too much. The please making your head spin and hips falter. “S’okay dove, let go for me.” Thats all you needed to absolutely fall apart on top of your boyfriend, his own Orgasm following soon after.

One satisfying and much needed shower later Simon was tucking you into bed and pulling you close to him. As you drifted off to sleep you could hear him mutter about how well you did and how good you could be for his boys.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

A Kingdom of Shadows and Steel

Paring: Poly 141 x Reader

AU: (Medival) Knights!141 x Healer!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of injuries, boys assist in training their healer

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, i might make a story about this-

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The wind carried the scent of blood and smoke as you knelt in the ruins of the battlefield. Around you, the cries of the wounded echoed—some fading into silence as life slipped away, others clawing at the edge of survival. Your hands worked quickly, trembling but steady, weaving threads of healing magic into a soldier’s mangled leg. The golden glow of your power barely illuminated the grotesque wound, but slowly, the torn flesh began to knit itself back together.

“Get out of here,” you urged, your voice strained but firm. “Before they come back.”

The soldier nodded weakly, dragging himself toward the treeline where others had fled. You sat back on your heels, every ounce of strength drained. Magic always demanded more than you were prepared to give, and this battlefield—a wasteland of broken bodies and charred earth—had swallowed your reserves hours ago.

The sharp crunch of boots on gravel snapped you out of your haze. Your head jerked up, instinctively raising a hand as though you could muster another spell. A shadow loomed over you, taller and broader than anyone you’d encountered today.

“You’re braver than you look,” a low, accented voice drawled.

You blinked, your vision sharpening. A man clad in battered black armor stood before you, a half-mask obscuring the lower half of his face. His eyes, sharp and dark, studied you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

Behind him stood three others, equally imposing: a grizzled, blue-eyed man who carried himself with the weight of leadership; a younger soldier with a cheeky grin, his messy hair barely kept in check; and a man whose presence was like a shadow—silent, his face hidden behind a skull-like mask.

“I wasn’t aware the crown hired mages,” the grizzled man—Captain John Price, you realized—remarked, his arms crossed.

“They don’t,” you replied, struggling to your feet. “I’m not with the crown.”

The masked one, who had yet to speak, tilted his head slightly, his gaze pinning you in place. “Then what are you doing on *our* battlefield?”

You met his stare, unwilling to back down. “Saving lives, since you lot can’t seem to stop spilling blood.”

The younger man—Soap, if you remembered correctly—barked a laugh. “She’s got fire, eh? I like her already.”

Price’s gaze didn’t waver. “We’ll see.”

They didn’t leave you behind. Despite your protests—and your insistence that you could take care of yourself—they decided it was too dangerous for a lone healer to wander war-torn lands. Price gave the order, and that was that.

At first, their presence was overwhelming. They moved like a unit, each man fitting into the group like a piece of a puzzle. Ghost’s quiet intensity was unnerving; you often caught him watching you, his gaze unreadable. Price was distant but protective, a commanding figure who seemed to expect competence from everyone—including you. Soap, with his endless jokes and easy grin, was the only one who made an effort to pull you out of your shell. And then there was Gaz, whose sharp wit and subtle kindness chipped away at your defenses before you even realized it.

The days blurred together as you traveled. The landscape was a patchwork of desolation: burned villages, abandoned farmlands, and the occasional stretch of wilderness untouched by war. At night, the group set up camp in silence, each man falling into a routine as practiced as it was efficient.

You, however, struggled to find your place. Healing was all you knew, and while they respected your skill, you felt like an outsider. That began to change one cold evening when Soap handed you a dagger.

“You’re good with magic,” he said, twirling his own blade between his fingers, “but magic won’t save you when someone’s got steel to your throat.”

You hesitated before taking the weapon. “I don’t know how to use this.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He grinned, positioning himself behind you. His hands covered yours as he adjusted your grip and stance.

“Relax,” he murmured. “You’re too stiff. It’s just me.”

His touch was firm but careful, his teasing tone oddly comforting. By the time the lesson ended, you were breathless—not from exertion, but from the way his laughter warmed the cold night air.

Over the following weeks, the 141 began to feel less like an obligation and more like a team. Price often joined you during quiet moments, his gruff voice softening as he asked about your past. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and though he rarely spoke about himself, the glimpses he gave you felt like pieces of a puzzle you were eager to solve.

“You’ve got the heart of a soldier,” he said one night, his eyes steady on yours. “Even if you don’t see it.”

The words lingered, wrapping around your heart like a shield.

Gaz, meanwhile, became your confidant. His sharp humor and easygoing nature made it impossible not to let your guard down. One evening, as you stitched up a tear in his tunic, he regaled you with tales of his childhood.

“Got myself stuck in a tree once,” he admitted, grinning. “Had to be rescued by my little sister. Never lived it down.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t imagine you needing rescuing.”

“Well, we all need rescuing sometimes,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “Even you.”

You looked away, his words striking a nerve you weren’t ready to confront.

And then there was Ghost. He was the hardest to read, his silence a wall you couldn’t climb. But his actions spoke volumes. He always seemed to know when you were on the verge of exhaustion, his presence grounding you in ways you couldn’t explain. One night, as you cleaned a gash on his arm, he surprised you by speaking.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he said quietly.

You met his gaze, startled. “So are you.”

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you. And in that moment, you felt something shift.

It was during an ambush that everything changed.

You were caught off guard, the group scattered as enemy soldiers descended upon your camp. You barely had time to draw your dagger before a blade was swinging toward you.

“Down!” Ghost’s voice cut through the chaos. He moved like a shadow, intercepting the attack with brutal efficiency.

The battle was over in minutes, but the fear lingered. As you sat by the fire that night, your hands still trembling, Soap leaned close, his grin softer than usual.

“You did good,” he said, his voice low. “You held your own.”

“I froze,” you muttered.

“And then you fought,” Gaz added, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. “That’s what matters.”

You looked around the circle, meeting each of their gazes. For the first time, you felt like you belonged.

The firelight cast flickering shadows across their faces as the five of you huddled close. The tension that had been building for weeks finally reached its breaking point.

“I’m not blind,” Soap said, breaking the silence. “I see the way you all look at her.”

You froze, your heart pounding. “What are you talking about?”

Gaz snorted. “Don’t play dumb. We’ve all got eyes.”

Price cleared his throat, his gaze flickering to you. “It’s true. We’ve… grown attached.”

Ghost’s voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s not just attachment.”

You stared at them, speechless. The walls you’d built around yourself began to crumble, the weight of your feelings crashing down.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice shaking.

“Say you’ll stay,” Price said, his tone gentle but firm.

“Say you’ll let us protect you,” Gaz added.

“Say you’ll let us love you,” Soap finished, his grin softening into something vulnerable.

Your gaze swept over them, each one looking at you with a mix of hope and fear. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to face the world alone.

“I’ll stay,” you whispered.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[beloveds-embrace]

(Lavender Marriage au: Poly 141 x married reader where they don’t know you and your gay bestfriend married just for the Benefits and they see your husband/bestfriend “cheating” on you)

Your parents are traditional and are pressing you for marriage. Your bestfriend, on the other hand, is gay and in a secret relationship and the heir of a successful family business, but his parents are homophobic.

In hindsight, it’s extremely easy for the both of you to decide to get married and move far away, buying a nice plot of land and a big enough house to have rooms for you, for your husband and his boyfriend, and for you and your husband for whenever the parents decide to visit.

Honestly, the townspeople suck; you don’t trust any of them not to snitch or to not be spies, so unfortunately you keep yourself happy with toys you order with your happy bestfriend’s money and flash that ring on your finger often enough no one ever questions your husband’s many, many trips.

You don’t mind much; a big, comfy house where you have everything you could want, no worried, far away from your parents. All you have to do is keep up the pretense of being a dutiful, happy wife, and everything will be well.

Until the abandoned house next to yours is bought by four of the most handsome military men you think you’ve ever seen. You don’t know they’ve bought it and are renovating it themselves until Kyle comes over to ask for a few glasses of water-

“Sorry to bother you, Ma’am. We’ve just begun renovations and the plumbing’s not fixed it.”

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to call him handsome while you fetch him some icy cold water.

The other men are just as handsome too- calling you Ma’am, bonnie, sweetheart in those sexy british and scottish accents. Too bad, they are very respectful. For once, that ring on your finger is getting in your way.

So unfortunately, you resign yourself to waving to them whenever you see them, and spying on them from your porch, lemonade in hand and ogling those handy muscles glistening from sweat and working hard.

(They like you, too. So much. You look fucking gorgeous to them, all pretty sundresses and delicate jewelry and so sweetly fussing over them while they work, bringing them cookies and sandwiches and drinks and your pretty eyes just glancing at them through your lashes. You make the renovations so much harder because they have to take breaks.

But you are taken, the ring a proof of that, and you seem quite content with your life. They meet your husband too and for all that they wish he wasn’t there, they can see that you two are happy.

Until they see your husband kissing another man. In your home. Cheating on you.

And suddenly, they know they have a chance.)

[tempfrangit]

saw @pricetagged 's post (to be entirely transparent) and immediately overcome with the idea of hunter!141 x reader who like to do a little hunt to find a partner, and if you happen to be the partner of the person their ex left them for? all the better.

they get close to you, naturally. you bumped into each other in public and kind of just click - they're like an old friend you just met! when they're not busy with work, they're chatting about the book you just read, or the show you just watched, or maybe your work drama, because you don't like to gossip but it's like some people never learn! they even get along with your favorite friends and family.

when you start to realize you have feelings for them, your partner just happens to seem more distant. it's only right to tell you, your partner is kind of a serial cheater, right? you're friends. and when your fears are so neatly confirmed (he claims he has no idea who those messages are from, but you're not blind.)

they're there for you. it'll all be okay. maybe a nice cuppa and your comfort movie? you're the sweetest prize they've ever gotten.

[shininqstr]

pretty boy😞😞

oh, my good looking boy

synopsis: texts with gaz as your bf // requested by anon <3

extra headcanons at the bottom since this one’s short

cw: suggestive jokes, mentions of injury, one ‘kys’ joke

⊹ you can get him to say almost anything by just saying it and he’ll usually echo it back to you

⊹ he keeps up with slang and current memes just to annoy the others (mainly ghost)

⊹ he’s really good at dancing but only does it in private

⊹ usually prefers to slow dance with you but you convince him to twerk on you once. needless to say, it does not happen again

⊹ i feel it in my soul, if he was in our universe he would be a COD player. but i think he mainly plays csgo and valorant

⊹ literally cannot sleep without you. if you lock him out of the room he’ll be clawing at the door like a clingy cat

⊹ sends you pics of him shirtless a lot, just to show off

⊹ gets weirdly insecure about the relationship sometimes. will shake you awake at midnight just to ask if you still love him

⊹ he loves sharing his music with you, literally makes you like fifty playlists

⊹ frank ocean is his favorite artist but i think tv girl is a guilty pleasure for him. you tell him he has ‘male manipulator’ music taste one time and he gets really defensive

⊹ doesn’t remember anything about himself. if someone asks him about his preferences he’ll turn to you and be like “babe, what’s my favorite color?” or “do i like ketchup?”

⊹ thinks he looks gross with a beard but can be convinced to grow it out. always shaves it off when someone (soap) inevitably teases him

⊹ has blackmail material on all the 141 guys

an: title is from good looking - suki waterhouse. if anyone wants to see a version of this with other characters feel free to send a request!

dividers from @/saradika-graphics :)

[red5tars]

pricegaz x reader but it’s more like pricereader x babysitter!gaz. milf and dilf take a liking to local younger man, news report they’re trying to get him pregnant.