#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]

(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.)

[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!

[vaquerolvr]

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 :)

[akio-ayashi]

Yes, please keep me safe 🥺

imagine running from a horde of zombies after you were caught off guard and sprinting through a forest, hopeless and desperate because you can't seem to shake off this horde that seems to be growing in numbers, until finally you come across a shelter carefully concealed in the pinewood, almost blending into the surrounding landscape.

the man living there must have seen you running in the distance because when you pass by, the door opens and shuts like a spider's trap, and he drags you inside and holds you to his chest so you don't so much as twitch until you hear the horde pass by. and it's large. hundreds of undead groaning and rushing by, almost clambering over one another, still thinking that they're in pursuit of you. your heart is smashing against your ribcage because you realize now that there's no way you could've outrun them or gotten away - the man at your back is the only thing standing between you and certain death.

he introduces himself as Gaz and tells you that you can spend however long you'd like with him. he's been living in the woods since the outbreak and he's been stockpiling food and water since long before. one of his old army buddies bought the bunker almost a decade back - a real prepper-type, though he passed well before the apocalypse and left the property to Gaz in the absence of any family.

you're so appreciative of his help and you aren't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so obviously you take him up on his offer and spend the week.

only when days go by and you mention that you're thinking of heading out now that the horde has long passed, he talks you out of it. seems concerned about what'll happen to you if you're on your own out there. you let him convince you to stay a little longer, but sure enough, after another few days you start to get jittery, anxious to get back out on the road because the last thing you want to do is overstay your welcome.

then you see the locks on the door. it's padlocked shut, the key nowhere to be found. you don't remember there being locks on the inside. that's the only thing you can think when Gaz comes up from behind you, planting both of his hands on your shoulders, almost as if to offer you reassurance.

"don't worry, love," he murmurs, bending low so his voice is right in your ear. "i'm gonna keep you safe. you won't ever have one of them chase you again."

[majinbangus]

I stumbled across your feral!141 and when you have more time for it I would love to know how the feral boys would behave if reader got injured because of a dumb hunter while they were away hunting

feral!141 are lowkey dark ngl but not directed at you -> more here

They are territorial. Extremely so. You learned that quickly when the occasional lost soul or passing hunter came across your—their—property. It's only because of your staying hand do your boys hold themselves back, although not without a threatening show of teeth at the trespasser. If you weren't there to hold their leashes, you can only imagine the mauling that would take place.

You know what they are capable of. You've seen it with your own eyes, having watched them roughhouse with each other and seen the offerings they will leave on your doorstep as fond gifts, like cats presenting dead mice to their master. But they aren't housecats, nor are their presents tiny, harmless mice. Far from it.

And you're reminded of what beasts they are again.

They are savage and cruel. Merciless and cold. When they came back and found you nursing a wound—a measly one, barely a scratch—that you received from a hunter that trespassed, they went back out and tracked down the hunter wherever he ran off to after you managed to fend him off. They came back hours later bloodier than when you last saw them.

You know what happened but you still ask, "What did you do to him?"

"Nothin' much," Soap claims, making Ghost snort.

"Just had to give a little message." Gaz gives a blasé roll of his shoulders.

You tilt your head that them. "What's that?"

It's then that Price steps up, and you're suddenly aware that they're all looking at your shoulder where the hunter nicked you with a throwing knife. You resist the urge to gulp when Price leans in, a possessive undertone coating his voice when he gives you the answer.

"Don't touch what's ours."

[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.

[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

[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.

[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 |

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.

[sevs-corner]

I had a dream last night with the Tf 141 boiyos being marines, being the type to party wherever they land, hook-up with girls and leave with promises of coming back or returning their letters once they get back to their own home town.

And the fact my thoughts instantly went to Soap and Price being so downtrodden that they have to leave you in the morning, soft kisses exchanged bathed in the rays of the sunrise— AAAAAA

Gaz, my guy, will make sure you both have the night of your life but is equally unable to leave your warm bed, the stress of the seas finally off his back with you carrying the weight off it

Ghost, may look like the uptight type, but he’s the first to be flirted with and end up awake in someone else bed. The only thing holding back from leaving that night was your afterglow, and finds that a sense of peace within himself- a grounding moment that he can still connect with people and not just fully focused on the job of to kill or not to kill.

Yeah, my dreams get too vivid- my demons like to play in my mindscape like its a playground while i’m that onlooker kid from the side wondering- what the fuck are they cooking???

Also link to that OG idea i also thought off on a whim:

[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).

[bambisspeckles]

Stowaway ✿ Poly Pirate!141 x Reader

*pics for aesthetics only!

Summary: You accidentally sneak onto pirate crew 141's ship CW: Inaccurate depiction of pirates, poly!141, fem!reader, ghost and price are kinda assholes (for right now), soap is well soap, gaz is an angel sent from heaven, reader is held captive (ish), stockholm syndrome core but like in the way beauty and the beast is, no romance yet (sorry, but don't worry it won't really be a slowburn), self-edited! WC: 1.8K

It was a mistake, honestly you should have just stayed put. You have no idea why you thought it'd be a good idea to sneak onto any ship, at all, ever.

You suppose this cruel fate is karma for your actions.

It started in the early hours of the morning, when many passenger ships were docked. You had decided to pack a small bag with your most important belongings and sneak into one of the ships cargo holds. In theory it was a good idea, you figured most of the crew we be pretty occupied tending to passengers needs, therefore your chances of getting caught and thrown into the ocean were slim. It's a shame you the ship you decided to board wasn't a passenger ship.

You should have known, it didn't look remotely like a passenger ship. There weren't any nice amenities, only one small dining room, not nearly enough beds for the amount of people that come to and from your island, and there were too many suspicious looking locked chests. There was a voice inside your head screaming for you to get off the ship but the adrenaline being pumped through your body was too high, and the yearning to escape the hell your home brought to you overruled almost all your sense of logic and reasoning. When you found the cargo hold, you didn't even think twice before making your way inside, quickly scanning your surroundings to find the best place to hide. You decide to hide behind some unmarked crates, figuring they'd be bothered the least. You squeeze your body behind the boxes, maneuvering so all of you can be hidden well.

It feels like you're there for days, realistically you know that's not true, but you're so close to leaving this island and never looking back. No matter how tempted you are to bolt, you keep yourself firmly planted behind the crates. Finally, you hear voices, it doesn't seem like there's very many people and that makes your anxiety sky rocket, but it's much too late to sneak off and try to find another ship to become a stowaway in. Pushing your knees further into your chest, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. For hours you hear voices and footsteps above you, but no one seems to have any suspicions. In fact it's been so calm the rocking of the ship has your eyes fluttering shut, you've been fighting sleep but nothing has transpired for so long maybe a few minutes of shut eye won't hurt. As your mind battles between alertness and staying asleep you hear something.

Footsteps. Coming down the steps, right into the cargo hold.

Your heart drops into your stomach and your breath hitches. You squeeze your body into itself in an attempt to make it smaller, one of your hands coming to clasp your mouth shut. The footsteps get louder and louder until you see a large figure standing in the archway. You go rigid as you get a better look at him. He's no average sailor, he's a fucking pirate.

"Great." You think wryly. "If he finds me then I really am dead."

He's moving around some boxes, you're not quite sure why, and for a moment you think he has no clue you're there.

Unfortunately for you, that's where you're wrong.

In the blink of an eye he grabs you from behind your crate wall, holding you by the scruff of your neck like a naughty kitten. The look in his eye is dark, and the rest of his face is covered by a mask, a skull print adorning the fabric. He says nothing, only staring at you for a moment before throwing you over his shoulder and walking back up the steps, presumably to bring you to the rest of the crew.

Oh. you're totally fucked now.

The mans footsteps attract the attention of his crew as he walks across the deck, when he stops walking, he practically throws you onto the ground, forcing you to kneel before three other men.

"Wha' a bonnie thing she is… S' what tha' noise was? Was startin' worry I was finally losin' it." A man, Scottish you think, says as he stares at you. His thumb dragging down the side of your face as a devilish smirk graces his lips.

You flinch under his touch and the Scotsman quickly removes his hand but his touch is soon replaced by another, a man much more imposing than he. Rough hands gripping your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Was wonderin' why it sounded like there was a rat down in the cargo," A dark glint flashes through his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "Now tell me, stowaway, wha' the hell are ya doin' on my ship."

Tears well in your eyes as you struggle against his grip, and you can feel his impatience growing as he waits for you to respond. After another moment, the final man turns to speak to you.

"Captain asked ya a question love, best answer him before he gets angry." His voice is surprisingly gentle, and when you meet his gaze, soft brown eyes stare back at you, eyes filled with pity.

The look in his eye breaks you, and fat tears begin rolling down the apples of your cheeks.

"I'm… I'm sorry!" You choke out your words between sobs, your body taut under the piercing gaze of the Captain.

A beat of silence passes before the Captain of the ship releases you from his grip, your body crumbling into itself.

"I didn't know! I didn't- I don't… I just wanted to leave! I promise I didn't take anything a-and you can drop me off at your next stop, just please don't hurt me…" Your words come out watery, your voice hoarse and snot coming out of your nose, ugly sobbing as these men surround you.

The man with the soft brown eyes crouches down next you, his gentle hand wiping tears off your cheeks.

"You poor thing, you're all outta' sorts. M' sure you didn't mean any harm…" He looks towards his Captain but his head is still angled in your direction. "Go easy on her sir, poor thing is trembling."

The Captain scoffs, his arms folding over his chest as he studies you, his gaze scrutinizing, piercing through you.

"She shoulda' thought of that before sneaking onto my ship." He gives you another once over before ordering you to stand on your feet. You figure it's best to do what he says so you rise from the ground, knees almost buckling under you.

The group of men stare at you for a while, seemingly unsure of what to do with you. After a few moments, a deep voice from behind finally speaks, you turn to look at him, his skull mask making your spine tingle with terror.

"We should just throw er' off the ship, no bloody reason to keep the thing around." You wince at the way he refers to you, objectifying, dehumanizing.

"Now, now, Ghost, nae reason tae make such a hasty decision. The kitten's completely harmless! I say we keep er', it'll be so nice to have a bonnie thing on board." The man, Ghost, scoffs.

"We don' need liabilities layin' around Johnny. Sides' got no use for er'. M' sure Price is inclined to agree with me." Ghost turns his head towards Price, presumably waiting for some type of agreeance on what he said.

Before the Captain can even get a word out, he's interjected.

"M' inclined to agree with Soap- for different reasons," He pauses shooting Soap a look, but he merely shrugs back. "But I agree all the same. I mean look at er' poor thing is terrified, I doubt she came to pillage our goods Captain."

Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mulls over his, limited, options. Everyone, including you, waits for him with bated breath. Selfishly, you hope he'll keep you around a bit longer, at least then you'll get a chance to make an escape plan.

Finally, the Captain speaks.

"She can stay, for now. We can keep er' in the cellar until I figure out wha' the hell to do with her." His words carry a tone of finality, a fact that has Ghost scoffing.

"You're jus' pickin' sides cause' Gaz wants to keep er' around." He motions towards the man next to you, bitter venom coming out alongside his words.

Gaz rolls his eyes, blowing out with an irritated sigh.

"Price isn't picking sides, he's doing what's right. Just cause' you don't agree with it doesn't mean that-" Price puts his hand on Gaz's shoulder, interrupting his sentence. A silent way of telling him "settle down."

Gaz relaxes under the Captains touch.

"Gaz, Soap, take er' down to the cellar, we'll keep er' there for now. Ghost, come with me to my quarters." Ghost mumbles something in response, but his words are muffled by his mask, something you're sure he's grateful for at this moment.

You, Soap, and Gaz watch him for a moment as he follows Price like a kicked puppy. When they're finally out of view, Soap and Gaz turn their attention back to you.

"C'mon kitten, yer gonna ave' tae be a bit uncomfortable tonight, the Captain didnae plan for any stowaways.." He chuckles at you playfully, something you'd find much more comforting under different circumstances.

You suddenly feel a hand on your back, the skin a bit rough even through the fabric of your clothes. You whip your head to look behind to see Gaz, his soft brown eyes still filled with that same look of pity. He and Soap begin gently guiding you towards the ships cellar.

"It's alright love, The Captain can be a bit cruel but he won't hurt you. Even pirates have their limits… Besides, I assure you we're not nearly as bad as some of the other pirates out there. We'll get you sorted out in the morning."

You have no reason to trust these men, all you've known is that pirates cause pain and destruction everywhere they go, but the only thing you can do right now is trust them. So, you nod timidly, letting them guide without resistance.

Hopefully you can escape at the next docking place.

[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.

[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.