#Kyle Gaz Garrick x Female Reader

[ryuzakemo128]

Pairing: Poly141! x Female Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing, medical examinations, medical terms, medical terminology, slight angst, graphic descriptions of the effects of being alone for ten years. Nikolai appears for a little while in this part. But he becomes a permanent character later. Cute nicknames. Pet names. Smut implications. Rather heavy handed

Dividers: @cafekitsune

Word Count: 3146

Note: I hope you enjoyed this part. If you have more ideas of where to have this go next. Then by all means message me or put it in comments below. I read all comments by the way.

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two + Part Three + Part Four

It’s been three months since you were back at the base. You weren’t too sure how the military personnel would react to your return. You were certain this wasn’t real, and you would certainly wake up soon.

You were now under the bright lights of the medical room. You didn’t know what to think now. If you were allowed to return, why the need for all these tests?

What were they testing for? What aren’t they telling you?

Why are they staring at you like you were going to die any day now?

Would it have been better to have been out in the wild instead?

All these questions spurned, swirled and turned inside your head. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know what you should feel.

Your skin felt like it was on fire with each poke, prod and needle injected into you. You didn’t like it. You loathed it. But what could you do? What was there to do? Other than to lie there and take what they dished out unto your body. Your shell. Your image.

Nothing is left untouched because anything you have deemed sacred wasn’t treated that way by them. Your life before wasn’t like that, and now you are left wondering if it was better to be alone rather than to have a place of ‘belonging’ in the first place.

An unknown creature made by mother nature they couldn’t easily define.

“I can’t take more tests.” You stated, your face pressed against the glass one-way window and your eyes shut. The IV drip jabbed into your right arm as you are so, so tired. “I should have stayed out there.”

As the days continued to pass, you weren’t sure what to think anymore and the more time to yourself. The more time you spend regretting ever deciding it was a good idea to come back.

What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all? You don’t know now. You don’t want to know the answer to either question.

Who knew what would happen now?

You didn’t know. And for once, you had something far more tangible to be afraid of.

You do know if anything told you about predators, if anything about being in the wild taught you anything in those long ten years alone. You still don’t know how they affected you or if they made you ‘better’ at this.

At this job. At existing as you are and as you were before. Who knows?

Not like you will get the truth out of them without pulling teeth from their snapping jaws. You don’t know how long it will take for them to find out you are part of an incredibly morally grey, morally complicated, morally complex, morally fucked in the head, morally ambiguous. And more likely to go ‘feral’ if left alone for too long.

While you were asleep on the table, the doctor pulled them aside to the observation room outside the examination area.

“The effects of being isolated for eleven years are apparent,” The doctor stated, pulling up the brain scan on the digital whiteboard. “As you can see on the brain scan here, the amygdala and the hippocampus have both grown significantly. This could explain the heightened sense of danger and enhanced memory.”

“Other things that are affected are things like her nails, while they were oddly shaped before, they are now razor sharp. They can and will slice you open or dig into layers of your flesh.” The doctor continued showing off an image of damage done to a mannequin.

Price watched from the corner, his hand in his pocket, rubbing the bruise you left behind on his hand. The way your eyes glinted with the fireplace light, the way your teeth dug into his skin. It was almost like he enjoyed it. Like it was a silent declaration of something.

“Her wolf teeth evolved too,” the doctor continued to ramble. “They are far better than what they used to be.”

That statement alone hinted at the fact this doctor knows you far better than they thought they did. Price took a step closer, his curiosity piqued, “How so?”

The doctor pointed to the image on the board, “Her teeth, while sharp, they’re not just for show. They’re capable of injecting a venom. A venom that can incapacitate or kill anyone it comes into contact with. We’re not sure how or why this evolution happened. But it’s a significant advantage in combat. One that we can’t ignore.”

Price’s eyes narrowed, the implications of this newfound information were vast. If you had the capability to produce such a powerful venom, then that would explain why Shepherd was so keen on keeping you a secret. It was a weapon they hadn’t fully unlocked yet.

It also calls into question as to why you were kept a secret or left out there for ten years. What was General Shepherd afraid of?

What did he hope for when he threw her to the wolves in Siberia?

Did he hope she’d die out there?

The disconnect between the reality of knowing she wouldn’t have died and the hope the cold, starvation would kill her is large enough to fit the titanic.

“We need to keep this under wraps. It shouldn’t get back to General shepherd. The last thing we need is to have him tipped off about your return or anything we have learned about you.” Price stated.

“We can’t afford, if the General gets wind of this, he’ll do anything to control you. To use you as a weapon again. You’re not going anywhere near that monster.” Ghost remarked in agreement with Price.

“How does my organs look though?” you asked the doctor, more concentrated on your own health than how fast you could kill someone.

The doctor nodded, clicking away on their computer, “Your organs are surprisingly healthy given your diet out there. We’ve seen some malnourishment but nothing too serious, a bit of vitamin deficiency.”

The doctor continued to speak after you gave her the nod to go ahead, “Nothing we can’t fix with supplements. Your body is adapting to what’s available in the wild, which is quite extraordinary. It’s almost as if you’ve evolved to survive in such conditions. Your liver and kidneys are functioning at optimal levels, considering. But we’ll run some more tests to be sure.”

“What about the stomach and pancreas?” you questioned. “I had a lot of boar, deer, and bear meat. Can't say I've had a lot of greens out there. Besides mushrooms, fruit like berries and the occasional wild garlic.”

The doctor nodded again, scribbling some notes, “It's understandable given the environment. We'll need to keep an eye on your digestive system, but preliminary results indicate you're doing surprisingly well. It seems your body has adapted to extract the maximum nutrients from what's available.”

While you were settling into the base, you were keen on getting at least the optimal hours of sleep again. The nice, seven to nine hours of sleep. In between your fur blankets, insulated and the cold kept far from you.

After six hours, almost seven hours of sleep later, your door opened little by little. An unknown scent wafted in from the door, who is it? You can’t identify that smell at all. You frown as the scent gets closer to your bed.

The Russian accent finally gave it away now, odd to hear that here, of all places. You didn’t think it would have been something to wake up to. Yet here it was. Laid out in front you like an unwelcome sign with enough red lights to make the red-light district question itself.

You don’t know what the bear wanted from you, not like you could or would give anything to the guy anyway. But that it is beside the point. You shifted around in your blanket pile and pulled your pants back on. Don’t question why you don’t have pants on. Overheating is a major issue for you during winter, and the heat rashes drive you up the wall.

Nikolai. Whoever he is. Standing in your quarters like it was summer in the middle of the Sahara desert wearing a pair of shorts.

“Aren't you cold wearing those things?” you asked, drowsy and half asleep. You braced yourself for a no for an answer.

The stubborn bear never paid enough attention to the weather reports anyhow. It didn’t matter how many times you’d tell him. He wouldn’t listen to you anyway. It’s a wonder no one gave him an earful already. Not that you wanted to be that person to that.

You didn’t want Price ranting and raving at how you ‘hurt his feelings’ or some kind of bullshit excuse he might throw at you.

You didn’t care about hurt feelings, why would you? If any of them were alone for as long as you, were, they wouldn’t care either. Though you doubt they would have the guts to even last that long anyway.

You reached out for your shirt to put on underneath the layers of blankets. Not that you cared that he would still be standing there in total silence anyway. You didn’t wear a bra out in the wild and you still don’t.

City wolves would. Wolves like yourself? Unheard of. Unless you really needed it, most wolves, lone wolves like you? Didn’t bother with the trivialities of human societal norms like underwear and other such things.

If you felt the need to have such a thing you would have to learn from trial and error to make one yourself. Just like you were taught through ONI.

Men and Women had to learn how to sew in ONI. Both genders were required to learn it in order to be self-sufficient in the field. It was a necessary skill, especially when you’re in the middle of nowhere with no tailor in sight.

Probably why you asked for linen based clothes which Price didn’t think you’d be that specific in your request. Not that the doctor minded, she knew the benefits of linen just as much as you did.

If you were still in ONI’s branch headquarters, you would be wearing running shorts and a sports bra. Maybe a muscle shirt over the top of the sports bra to ward eyes off your chest region.

It was airy, enough material to cover yourself while also leaving out enough material to keep your body from overheating to an uncomfortable degree. The doctor had listened, much to the amusement of the men who had accompanied her.

While you braided your hair to prevent it from resembling a raccoon's post-food wash mess. You didn’t know what to think of the larger man. “I am sure you are here for an important reason, right?”

You didn’t know whether they wanted to recreate your old room with their own touches or if they wanted to go ham and just fuck in front of you.

The hormones were all over the place leaving you feeling like you were in an unending fever dream you can’t find yourself to leave because one, its too weird. Secondly its like getting flash banged in a fire fight or a western style show down.

Who knew if this would only be just another temporary space? You didn’t. You were just waiting uneasy and waiting until you had to find a new permanent spot on your own again. Instead of the wilderness. It would be inside the city this time.

Nikolai looked over the new hideout plans you had started for yourself. The combination of four storage containers. Two stacked on top of another two, forming a two-story space and the containers would be forty feet.

The outside would be painted Vanta Black to blend into the dark to make it virtually unable to see in the dark. The windows would be made of a one-way mirror, so you can see out without being seen. Allowing you to walk around naked.

If you desired to walk around your own hideaway stark-naked that is. Not that it would happen with five people staring at you or one of them staring at you. They’d enjoy the view of you unwrapped far, far too much.

The other ideas you had come up with were things like: hidden cameras camouflaged by the black paint. Along with visible thermal imaging cameras that look like security cameras only they won’t record audio, camera footage or anything which could be traced back to you. They would only detect and record heat signatures into an excel spreadsheet linked to a server database.

You had a dot point list of other ideas you had in mind for what to put inside it:

Camouflage Netting: It’s not just for military use anymore, it’s for hiding your hideout. It’s a way to make sure that no matter where you are, you’re protected from the eyes of anyone that’s looking for you.

Infirmary: Just in case someone gets hurt and needs medical attention. It’s not just for patching up gunshot wounds, but also for dealing with your unique condition.

Library of survival books: Because even the best of us need to brush up on their skills every once in a while. Plus, it’s always good to have a plan B, C, D, and so on.

Reloading Bench: This would provide with a source of ammunition, store your excess amount of ammunition created and to provide a workbench specifically for ammunition. Plus, it keeps everything organized and in one place.

Security System: You had thought about installing a silent alarm system that notifies the four of you if anyone gets too close for comfort. It would be linked directly to your phones or coms.

Solar Panels: To provide power and reduce the dependency on the grid. You weren’t going to be living in the dark ages, even if you’re living off the grid.

Soundproof Panels: Installed within the walls of the hideout to prevent any noise from escaping or entering, which was crucial for both privacy and safety during your heat.

Underground Tunnels: To escape and enter the hideout without being seen. It’s a safety net if shit hits the fan and you need to escape quickly. Plus, it’s a great way to get around unseen and get to places without having to leave the safety of your own base.

Nikolai looked over what you have come up with so far, eyes scanning over the drawings beside each dot point to drive home what you hoped to create in the future. You don’t know where this will end up being created. But for now, it remains an idea. No matter how ‘grandiose’ it sounded to him.

Debating with yourself if Yorkshire or Coventry would be better for this kind of hideout you were mentally creating for yourself. You didn’t know which place would be better and you didn’t know if they would react well to it either. A minefield hidden among the eggshells. What to do. What to do.

Would it be better to have them live inside a house while you lived on the land just outside?

Would it be better to just by a chunk of land and build something replicated from your own mind?

What is the better outcome? What is better for you? Which is going to help you more?

These questions swam around in your head like a tornado. A whirlwind of doubt and confusion. Until you heard his voice speak again, “You thought about this a lot, Da?” he asked.

You nodded, not completely trusting your voice not to crack and unable to find the will to speak either. The intensity of his stare made you squirm, intense, far too intense, you refused to be intimidated by him regardless.

Irrespective of what his opinion of what your choices meant to him. You had to keep yourself safe first. You can’t be bogged down by the opinions or notions of what they think you needed.

“Is there a problem?” you probed subtly.

“No….No problem here little mouse.” Nikolai answered his eyes finally darting back to your writing again.

You ignored the odd nickname he decided to call you at least it was better than ‘Darling’ or ‘darlin’ like the other four loved to call you. Though it did feel odd to hear anyone to call you things like that.

It was always either, ‘Venom’, ‘V’, ‘Devil’, ‘Beast’ or just your name. It is incredibly for someone to choose to call you by your name for some reason. Not that you cared that much about it.

Nikolai called you things like: 'Lyubimaya', 'Malinka', 'Milyaya', 'Solnyshko', 'Zayka' and, the oddest one of all, 'Moy Kotyonok' (My Kitten). Each name brought a slight blush to your cheeks, even though you knew they were just endearments in his language. He was always looking at you with a smirk, enjoying your reaction.

The act of calling you things like: ‘Little Mouse’, ‘Darling’, ‘darlin’. They did things to your mind, scratching a part of your brain you enjoyed more than you thought you would have. Though you preferred 'Little Mouse'. Over ‘Darling’ and ‘darlin’.

The cutest nicknames someone to think of piled onto you like a truck load of plushies. You didn’t know what to think of it all. You still don’t. You’re not sure if it was the hormones fucking with your mind or if it was the act of caring in general. Either way you find yourself liking it more than you assumed you would have.

Nikolai asked, “May I add a few more dot points?”

“Sure. Just don’t add anything that doesn’t help long term. If you can focus on long term things? Sure. Otherwise, add notes pertaining to other parts of the hideout you think it needs.” You answered.

Nikolai nodded, understanding the need to think long term instead of the short term, a hideout needed to think past the immediate needs and look at the potential problems you could have in the future.

“Da, I will keep this in mind, Little Mouse. Maybe we can have a room for vodka. Yes? It is good for the soul, and it keeps the cold away, da?” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of humour.

“I was hoping for mead.” You quipped with a smirk. “Perhaps we could add beehives to make sure the honey is fresh?”

Nikolai’s eyes lit up with the idea. “Mead! Yes, good for the soul, keeps the cold away, and it is something we can make ourselves! You are clever, Little Mouse.” He scribbled the idea onto the paper, his rough, calloused hand moving swiftly across the page.

Perhaps it was in fact better to work with others instead of relying on yourself. Perhaps you have room for five others inside that heart of yours.

You would like that right?

Little mouse.

[dmitriene]

tf141 as a delivery company, all four boys working so good that all people around you buzz with praises towards them, saying that if you search for someone to help you with some furniture to the new home, you should immediately select their company, and since you just moved to the neighborhood, why not.

it's johnny who you meet first, he's delivering a new bed, because the house is completely empty, and sleeping on the floor is not your best choice, so ordering a bed was a first and most important option, while the other furniture was on it's way.

the first thing you notice is his baby blue eyes, bright pebbles that shine in the morning sun when you greet him, slightly disheveled and dressed in some ordinary pajamas, too sleepy to notice the way johnny's gaze trails down your body and round curves, until asking where you need the bed, bonnie, because he's sure you won't be able to place it yourself.

johnny wonders if you'll let him suck at your cunt as a payment, thoughts clouded with how you'll could have looked sprawled on this new bed, scrabbling at his messy mohawk, mattress stained with a puddle of your syrupy slick and his drool, writhing prettily with your sleeping shorts dangling at your ankle.

too pretty for your own good, especially when you flash him a beaming smile on his way out, thanking him for his work with flattering tone of voice, and johnny glad you can't see the heavy boner between his legs, hidden beneath the baggy fabric of his working pants, staining his boxers with sticky precum.

then you meet kyle, prettiest boy you've ever seen, fitting to be a model rather than delivery guy, holding a heavy box with bedside table in his hands, honeyed eyes crinkling in bright smile when he asks you where he can place it, since you zoned on his face for too long, and unbeknownst to you, it got him much flustered.

he's a sunshine, a golden boy with how fast he works with his veiny hands, saying that you'll give him less than an hour and the table would be ready for you to use, still wearing a warm smile that makes you melt, nodding dumbly, just watching how kyle works, all but focused on the task in front of him, brows creasing.

his shirt riding up to reveal a glimpse of his lower back, skin smooth, and it's you who wonders about having fun with him, propped on his lap, toying with his most likely lengthy cock, all wet for you, imagining if he would let you play with him, or he'll flip you up and rearrange your glossy cunt till you're dumb.

kyle leaves you with a new furniture for a less than thirty minutes and winking at you when he stands at the doorway, leaning aside on his hip, saying that if you'll need more help, you know where to find him, and his name as well, and this leaves you with suddenly sodden panties and unspoken fantasies.

at the end, you meet simon and john, two bulky men that helped you with your new couch, a big thing that is better than the old, dusty one, and indeed worth of having two big men inside your house, crouched on the floor to settle the furniture up, telling you to not worry about a single thing, lass.

simon is more silent, efficient at his work and seems brooding, but his dark gaze softens everytime he meets your eyes as you check up on them, his hand caressing the small of your back briefly, just after john patted you there in reassurance, too close to the swell of your ass, murmuring that it's their work and you don't have to try and stick up to help in your own house.

cerulean eyes soothingly cold, with comforting smile hiding beneath his facial hair everytime your fingers touch, making you shudder briefly, almost praying so they'll won't notice how you eye them, how your cheeks tingle, but they both do.

wondering how you'll look seated on this plush couch, stripped bare and stretched around john's fat cock, with simon's throbbing girth down your tight little throat, an obedient housewife for them, sweet darling that could help them relieve after hard work, and perhaps, since you're living all alone, they could make you theirs.

it's the moment all of the boys are out on the weekends evening in some town pub, drinking glass after glass of warming, tart liquid, when johnny breaks up in slurring about what a cutie he meet when delivering some really big bed, and when kyle joined next, and then simon, john's eyes squinting as he strokes at his mutton chops, your appearance coming up like pieces of puzzles through their talk, everything fell into place.

all along, they were dreaming of the same bird, in the same house in a small neighborhood, sweet darling with giddy smiles and too longing gazes, and since they're such a good team, why won't they're help you a bit more this time, one for one.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[the-whispers-of-death]

You know that pretend to be my boyfriend trope where one character tells their family that they're dating in order to get the family to back off about them being single and now they need a pretend boyfriend? Yeah, imagine that, with Gaz.

Despite being a soldier, your family is hounding you for being single. As if you have time to get a partner. But you can't handle the questions about when you'll finally be taken, so you tell them that you're dating.

Your family is ecstatic, and they keep asking questions about your partner and since you've been around only your squad, the 141, you tell them that your boyfriend is a soldier like you. And you tell them the appeasing shit, how your boyfriend's so sweet and just amazing. That you can see a future with them.

And you think that's the end of it and after your leave is over, you head back to the base. Months pass by, you give your family vague details about how your life is going with your "boyfriend" and then you get into deep trouble when they basically trick you into saying you'd bring your boyfriend to the Thanksgiving dinner your family has every year.

So now you have to try and see which of the 141 will pretend to be your boyfriend, and you decide on Gaz. Mostly because he's your best friend, but also because he fits the description of your fake boyfriend's personality that you gave your family.

One day, you and Gaz are sitting next to each other in the recreational room and you decide now would be the perfect time to ask him to be your pretend boyfriend.

"Hey, Gaz. I have a favor to ask you," you say, looking up from your book to look at him nervously. You hope and pray that he'll say yes to your favor.

Gaz raises his eyebrow, having never seen you so nervous before. You were usually so composed. "What is it? Did you accidentally kill a soldier during training and then hid the body? I'll go MIA with you," he replies, half-joking.

You laugh and smile, your nerves eased so easily as is always the case with Gaz. "No, but good to know you'd still be my friend if I accidentally killed a soldier." You take a deep breath before continuing, "I told my family that I was dating someone, a fellow soldier. And now they've tricked me into saying I'll bring my boyfriend to the Thanksgiving dinner."

"{Name}, are you asking me to be your pretend boyfriend?" Gaz asks, cheeky and flattered that you asked him for the ruse. It makes him roll his shoulder back so his posture is straighter. "You can count of me, mate. You know I always got your back. So what have you told them about me, then? We'll need to keep our stories straight."

You two spend the rest of the day, developing this story further. And as the day wears on, you realize just how lucky you are to have a friend like him.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[luboy7rt]

 How Task Force 141 Would React to You Being Injured on the Field (GN - Teammate Reader Addition)

(Warning? Reader does pass out in one paragraph each, with no big details of any injury involved. Not much detail on the injury, just don't want to accidentally not warn someone of what is involved. So not many in-depth details on the injury :)

(Note:(GN - Reader. These can be seen as mostly platonic but can be seen as romantic and these are just my headcanons, feel free to disagree or agree, thank you) (INCLUDES: John Price, John 'Soap' MacTavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick and Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

Jonathan (John) Price:

- John is quick in dragging you off to a safe point, firmly placing you in a nice nook to ensure no stray bullets hit you. He does protect you, barking out orders for you to cover the wound and apply pressure as he focuses on killing the remaining enemies and makes sure the area is safe before helping you.

- Once it is ‘safe’ enough, he drops on one knee, questioning how you were ‘feeling’, scale of pain, how many injuries, just gives you a hell of a lot of questions to answer as he pulls out his small medical kit.

- He does basic procedures to ensure the wound wasn't fatal, disinfects and bandages as quickly and efficiently as he could as there might be enemies still around.

- He would question if you could stand, if not he has no problems helping you walk, looping his arm either over your shoulders or around your waist to pull you along to the evac point.

- You might owe him a drink, or two. He makes a ‘joke’ about it as you two walk (he isn't joking despite it coming off as one. You will end up paying for a round).

- He does take good care of you, ensuring you weren't in much pain, as he settles you into the evac helicopter, calling for a medic over comms when he could.

- He'd pat your shoulder or head and stay hovering near you until you get back to base, his eyes always coming back to check up on you.

- Depending on how much experience you have in the field, how many injuries you have had in the past, and how bad the injury was, if you were new to the team, he's a bit more ‘eh’ the medics know how to do their jobs but I'll stay nearby. If you are someone that has been on the team longer, he's sat by your side, rubbing your shoulder with one hand or the back of your neck, talking to you, questioning how you were. 

- If it's a ‘small’ injury, he's more relaxed, allowing the medics to do their jobs and not being that overbearing. 

- If it's a bigger injury? Good luck escaping his view, his eyes are on your wound while it gets patched up, ensuring everything goes smoothly while holding your forearm firmly in his grasp. His eyes would go from your injury to your face to see if it was affecting you badly or not. He forces himself to shut up, his jaw subtly clenched trying to let the medics do their job but he has to bite back comments of worry.

- If you pass out? He looks a bit surprised, his reflexes acting quickly catch you, his hand on your lower stomach and shoulder as he moves you to sit back in the helicopter, ends up sitting next to you the whole flight to keep you in place, he stays strong despite the silent worry in his eyes.

John (Johnny) ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

- He's antsy when you get injured in front of him, he swiftly deals with the enemy soldier that caused it, dropping down to your level and taking you into his arms. He asks ‘are you okay’ in many different ways, along with ‘where are yer hurt?’ a few times.

- His hands find your wound to apply pressure, or quickly bandage it, unable to clean it in the fast-paced situation, as enemy soldiers were still around, his main focus was simply getting the bleeding to stop and he would clean and bandage you up better later.

- He'd put his body between yours and the enemy soldiers, trying to block you from getting injured more while also firing back, trying to complete his job but also ensure you are protected.

- He would mutter to himself, as if to keep himself on track on what he had to do first, like a subtle ‘check-list’ on what to do, deal with this group of enemy soldiers, clean and re-patch your wound, run the hell to evac point. 

- He would gently brush his thumbs over your eyes if you cried due to the pain of your injury, quietly murmuring a bit of praise to keep you awake and aware before helping you up. He keeps a tight grip on you while his eyes check on you every few minutes before returning to look around his surroundings. His hand firmly on your back, rubbing slowly as his other hand held his sniper.

- If you needed him to carry you, he would. He would either throw you over his shoulder so he could rush to the evac point or hold you a bit more gently as tightly holds you.

- Once in the evac helicopter, he would let the medics do their job, him sorta being on autopilot as he watches over you. His hand going from the top of your head, to your shoulder, to gripping your forearm, to simply just grabbing at you. You were always in his grip, as if he was making sure you were still around and alright.

- If you pass out? He goes a bit pale, putting you down and yelling for a medic quickly, shaking you to try and wake you up. If you wake up, great, he’ll slowly calm down as he ensures you're safe within the evac helicopter. If you don't? He panics a bit, despite being trained not to, he can't help it when he knows a person so well, his own teammate. He ends up sleeping out next to you, his head on yours as the evac helicopter flies back to base, the medic having had patched you up and Soap there for support. But it wasn't known if he stayed with you for your own comfort or his own comfort.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

- He stumbles after you, trying to make quick work to check if you were okay, tugging you down to hide behind a bit of stone. He loses all the confidence he had moments prior as he watched your pained face.

- He would quickly bandage your wound, going into simply just repeating what has been drilled into his mind over the years. He is quite quiet during this, going on his comms unit to request for a medic and backup. 

- His eyes softening and he lets out a quiet sigh of relief if you are awake and aware, he grips your shoulders, while keeping a firm eye out for any enemies about. He smiles at you softly as he crouched down right in front of you, giving a brief side hug before going back to protecting you until backup arrives.

- Kyle pulls you up gently when backup arrives, sneaking you out of harms way while trusting the others to handle the few remaining enemies about. He would give you a soft look while murmuring encouraging words, he doesn't want you to pass out on him, so he was really just rambling to try and catch your attention.

- Promises to buy you a snack, or a round, or any drink you want as long as you don't pass out (he ends up buying you anything even if you do pass out).

- If you do pass out, the look of ‘are you kidding me? I said not to’ Kyle had as he caught you, his arm around the back of your waist, to keep you leaning into him instead of landing on the floor. Kyle ends up dragging/carrying you to the helicopter.

- He sits next to you as a medic does their work, looking at the ceiling as he breathed out, he was sure that was maybe the most ‘scare’ he ever had in his career as he cared about you, you being his teammate, he spent about all his time with you and the other Task Force 141 members, his thoughts went to a horrid place. Thinking about what he would ever do if he lost you or any other member he was close with.. he felt ill at just thinking that. But when his eyes went to you, his eyes softened and he relaxed, shaking those thoughts away as he was simply glad you were alright.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

- Ghost ends up killing the enemies who injuried you himself, having snuck you to a ‘safe’ hidden place in the battlefield before doing so. Having tossed his medical kit at you for you to care for your own injuries as He went off to deal with the dangers that still lurked around every corner.

- He comes back after about twenty minutes, silently watching you (if you managed to actually patch yourself up, he's more relaxed, calls you a idiot if you were too injured to patch yourself up) But Ghost leaned down to clean your wound then patch it up for you. Murmuring half- ‘insults’ but it was only out of care due to the fact he wasn't to sure on what to do with himself other than killing those who harmed you.

- There is indeed an awkward silence between the two of you as he patched you up, awkward eye contact, even more awkward touching. Ghost would quietly grunt at you. Shifting to help you up, if you stumble he sighs. Ends up just fireman carrying you or dragging you off, speaking calmly over his comms unit to get a evac helicopter on route.

- His hand would squeeze your shoulder, he wasn't one to like affection that much, but it was sorta like he was trying to keep both of you calm, he just wasn't sure how to show you..? He wanted you to know you could Indeed rely on him.

- If you pass out.. he forgets to catch you. You hit the floor hard as he made a silent ‘shit’ face under his mask, as he had been walking in front of you, having had not noticed until he heard the thud. He silently drags/carries you to evac point. He doesn't let a soul know he allowed you to fall.. he doesn't even inform you once you wake up. No one will ever know of this error.

- He keeps his hand firmly on you as he brings you to a medic, and watches their every movement, there was no room for error patching up one of his teammates.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (2 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, canon-typical swearing, Kyle is a girl dad

Word Count: 935

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

An evening of peace is interrupted when Kyle has to answer questions about what he does for a living.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Peace is shattered.

It always is when you have a kid.

It’s not just scraped knees or melted ice cream splattered on the pavement. Sometimes, peace is shattered because your child is a feral goblin who decides disturbing your sleep is the perfectly logical thing to do.

Wearing a pink onesie, standing in the bedroom doorway with her little fist raised and clutching a thin piece of paper, you and Kyle’s six-year-old daughter is ominously backlit by the hallway light. Kyle blinks, a little stunned by the sight before him. You shift beside him, one hand reaching out to him, murmuring his name.

There are a few seconds between her sudden appearance and the leap onto the bed. She spider-crawls like a thing out of a horror movie.

“Bloody hell,” groans Kyle, pinching the bridge of his nose as his daughter perches like a gargoyle next to him.

“Daddy,” she whispers.

You are already awake, turning over onto your back with squinted eyes as you’re blasted by the bright light of the hallway.

Before you can even speak, Kyle is shaking his head, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got this,” he groans, sitting up to turn on the bedside light. You glance at your daughter before returning to your original position.

Kyle rests his forearms on his bent knees, staring at his daughter who gazes at him with a peppy eagerness like she’s just eaten a cake heavily coated in icing. She shouldn’t have this much energy at this late hour.

“Go to bed,” says Kyle. “It’s past bedtime.”

She clutches the thin piece of paper. “I wanted to show you earlier.”

While Kyle is typically indulgent when it comes to her, he’s not feeling that way at the moment. He only wants to sleep.

“It’s late, bug,” he replies. “Tomorrow.”

She shakes her head, her tight curls bouncing slightly. “I didn’t know what to put here. You don’t talk about your job.” She points to a spot on the paper, and Kyle frowns as he peers closer.

Fuck.

It’s one of those questionaries where the child answers all these questions about themselves, and several pertain to her parents and what they do. She has left that entire section blank. Kyle understands that schools do this so that the students can build identity in their community while also making connections with classmates.

But she’s right. Kyle doesn’t talk about his job. At least not with her. You, his wife, are an entirely different story. You, the one who has been through nearly all of it, is the only person who truly knows everything. His daughter is far too young to know specifics or to fully comprehend the sheer violence of his work.

“You’re right, love. I don’t.”

“Why?” she asks automatically.

This is not a conversation he wants to be having. She needs to be in bed, and Kyle should be asleep and spooning you before he has to take this feral fiend of a daughter to school in the morning.

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over his face. “Where is this coming from?”

Her face falls slightly, and then becomes steel. “I want to be like you,” she says. “I want to grow up and be strong.”

No, babygirl. No. You don’t want to be like me.

You stir beside him, shifting like you’re about to turn and join the conversation. But Kyle knows you need your rest, and this isn’t the sort of conversation he desires to have this late at night.

That hardness melts away, and Kyle’s heart fractures slightly. She’s so small and yet so determined. Her little fist clutching the paper shakes slightly as if asking him is taking all her strength.

“Give me the paper.” Her smile widens as she hands it over. “And go turn off the hall light.” She groans loudly and Kyle shushes her as she throws herself off the bed and drags herself to the hall.

The light flicks off, and then she’s rushing back to him. He pats the side of the bed, and she crawls in, curling up next to him as he grabs the book off his bedside table.

“Pencil?” he asks, and she whips one out, her smile wide.

Kyle snorts and snags it, twirling it end-over-end as he tries to formulate an answer to the questions. Some of that gentle humor slips away, falling into memory, all the lead and blood and carnage comes back, roaring in his ears.

He takes a deep breath, silencing it all.

Graphite touches paper, and Kyle begins jotting down answers to all the things his daughter didn’t answer. She rests her head against his shoulder, watching the pencil scratch across the paper.

When he’s done, he presents the paper, and his daughter takes it reverently, as if all the secrets she doesn’t have are now suddenly before her. She does not take the pencil as she slips off the bed and starts to sprint for the door. She comes to a halt and turns on her heel, running back to him.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says a little too loud before kissing his cheek and heading out into the hall.

The bed shifts, and Kyle turns to look at you as you twist to face him.

“What did you write?” you murmur.

Kyle sighs and shuts off the bedside light. He snuggles in, and you reach for him in the dark. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you close, inhaling your scent, allowing his mind to drift toward dreaming.

“A nice truth,” replies Kyle softly just before he slips into sleep.

[ghostsforghosts]

It's my birthday, so imagine with me: Waking up on the morning of your birthday with Kyle walking over to the bed with breakfast.

He has made your favorite breakfast, right down to your favorite drink to have at breakfast time. He complied a delicious meal for you, just so you could wake up with a great start to your birthday.

He doesn't care about your morning breath when he leans over to press a kiss to your lips, murmuring a soft "Happy Birthday, love." He so very gently sets the tray of breakfast down on your lap, sitting nearby on the bed to watch you devour the breakfast.

You thank him many times, to which Kyle responds with chuckling and telling you that it's his honor to give you the best birthday breakfast ever. He wants this to be a birthday you remember.

He has a whole day planned out if you're someone who likes going out to places. A whole schedule of the places you two have gone and places that you love going. He even wrote down the schedule, giving it to you so you can choose if you do or do not want to adhere to the schedule he made.

If you do adhere to the schedule, Kyle takes you to this secluded spot at the end of the night, so you two can stargaze together. He'll wrap you in his arms and kiss you under the stars, smiling at the way you shiver at the night cold. He doesn't hesitate to drape his jacket over your shoulders, telling you that he has you.

If you're someone who doesn't like going out, he still has ways of making your birthday spectacular while at home. He puts on your favorite movies and shows, cuddling on the couch together in between the times he makes your favorite lunch and dinner.

He even made you a birthday cake, making a whole show of lighting the candles and singing "Happy Birthday" to you as he leads you to the dining room where the cake sits on the dining table.

Whatever you decide, Kyle is bound to make your birthday a happy one.

Banners made by @/cafekitsune

Requests are open!

[mockerycrow]

thinking of gaz feeling so special if you trust him to make you feel good — nsfw under the cut, fem!reader

sitting in your shared apartment, leaning back on your low level couch, your pants and underwear abandoned somewhere—neither of you care to look. you’re nervous as kyle lowers to his knees in front of you, in front of the couch. your face is burning as your legs are pressed together, your heart hammering behind your rib cage. your knees are raised upwards, your ankles covering where you’re most sensitive.

his shirt is abandoned somewhere; something about needing to feel your skin, but.. he doesn’t reach forward like you expect him to. kyle doesn’t grab your legs to spread them for you like you expect him to. you open your eyes, which you never even realized that they were closed, and peer over your knees. you look at him and god, kyle looks starving—but.. his hands remain on his thighs. he’s looking to you, his eyes half lidded as his fingertips twitch. seeking your permission, always putting your comfort first.

he’s the one who asked to do this. kyle sees your hesitancy, and he’s about to voice for about the third time that you don’t have to do this—but you spread your legs, showing him your soaked cunt. you let out a nervous shaky breath, and your head rolls back when he reaches forward, gently wrapping his arms around your thighs and dragging his tongue through the wetness. you’ve always known he’s a talker during sex, you’ve sucked his cock plenty of times; but you gush when you realize he’s mumbling into your folds, his eyes focusing on your face.

[springtyme]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♡

You befriend your new neighbour which leads to one fateful night with you and him ending up in bed together. Weeks later, you find out that your night with Kyle has come with an unexpected consequence.

Kyle Gaz Garrick x afab!reader || Masterlist || Series playlist

Chapter 1 The Guy Next Door coming soon

Chapter 2 Back Home to You

More chapters to come

[yawnderu]

— 2023 masterlist 🪴 Compilation of most of my works written in 2023. Simon Riley Masterlist | Smut Masterlist | Bimbo!Reader Masterlist | Dad!Ghost Masterlist | Commissions Info

— Sex Pollen

Simon ''Ghost'' Riley

König

Nikto

Miguel O'Hara

Astarion

— Popular

ATSV/COD MWII Twitter AU Masterlist

Virgin!König

Pec shaking

Pervert - König x Reader

Neighbor!Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

— SIMON RILEY

Living heating pad🧸 Betrayer🌧️ Please, God🌧️🧸 Reader crying during sex🌧️🧸 You make it hard to be a ghost🧸 Longing🧸 Together🧸 I'll meet you there🧸 Idyllic🧸 Believer🧸 Birthday Boy🧸 Situationship with Ghost🌧️🧸 Situationships with Ghost Part II🌧️🧸 Salvatore🧸 Seasons don't fear the reaper🧸 Shooting Star🧸 Spellbound🧸 Happy Cake Day🧸 Roadman!Ghost 🧸 Roadman!Ghost Part II🧸 Living heating pad🧸 Betrayer🌧️ Please, God🌧️🧸 Reader crying during sex🌧️🧸 You make it hard to be a ghost🧸 Longing🧸 Together🧸 I'll meet you there🧸 Idyllic🧸 Believer🧸 Birthday Boy🧸 Situationship with Ghost🌧️🧸 Situationships with Ghost Part II🌧️🧸 Salvatore🧸 Seasons don't fear the reaper🧸 Shooting Star🧸 Spellbound🧸 Happy Cake Day🧸 Roadman!Ghost 🧸 Roadman!Ghost Part II🧸

Domestic life🧸 Awful Cooking🧸 Wedding🧸 Relaxing time🧸 Doesn't mean anything🌧️ Genesis🌧️ Afraid - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️ Tainted - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️ Living Dead Man - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️🧸 Savior - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️🧸 Doomed - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️ Unexpected pregnancy - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️🧸 Immortal She - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️ Love never leaves - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️🧸 Genesis - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader🌧️ Simon doesn't believe in love🌧️🧸

— NIKTO

Infatuation🧸

Situationship🌧️🧸

Mann Gegen Mann - Nikto x Reader🌧️

— KÖNIG

Nipple sucking

— KYLE GARRICK

Panda Hybrid!Reader

— KEEGAN P. RUSS

Pets

DBF!Keegan

Headcanons Part I

Headcanons Part II

Headcanons Part III

— JOHN MACTAVISH

Thermobaric flashbang 🧸

Goofing around with Soap🧸

— Ongoing Series

K-9 - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

Lorelei - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

— Character Studies

Simon ''Ghost'' Riley - Character Study

Comic Simon being a sweetheart

Simon ''Ghost'' Riley being a family man

Mild Ghost - Ramble

Ghost and insecurity

König - Character Study

[aleskyyy]

Taste of heaven — John Price x F!Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick

What happens if you learn the secret between your Captain and your friend?

Warnings — fem!reader, blowjob, oral male receiving, kissing, cum eating, 18+ MDNI, etc.

863 words.

Main Masterlist COD Masterlist

You close the door to your Captain's office with a bang and swallow hard. Your heart beats fast as you realize that you know your Captain's and your friend's secret. You curse yourself and walk away, but not even five steps into your walk, the sound of your Captain calling your name stops you. You close your eyes and inhale slowly, then turn to face your Captain, who is looking at you with a unreadable expression.

"Captain Price," you greet him respectfully.

"Come to my office now, Sergeant," your Captain says firmly.

You try to refuse, but the serious look on his face makes you follow him back to his office. As you enter his office, you see your friend Gaz sitting on the couch in the office. When he sees you enter, he smiles sweetly at you. You look away from him, how can you look at Gaz without thinking about what you saw before. What he did before.

As your Captain paused in front of his desk and leaned against it, you stood a few feet in front of him. Your gaze was fixed on his eyes without looking anywhere else.

"Sergeant—"

"I don't see anything, Captain," you said, cutting him off. You could hear the laughter coming from Gaz's mouth, and you could see your Captain raising his eyebrows at you.

"If you hadn't seen anything, you wouldn't have rushed out and closed my office with a loud bang. You know, coming into my office without knocking is very impolite, Sergeant."

"I sincerely apologize, Captain," you said apologetically. You realize what you did was wrong.

"I think I know what you need to do for me to forgive you, Sergeant."

You gave your Captain a confused look as he said that. Before long you see your Captain standing up straight, you glance at Gaz who is looking at you intensely with a smile on his lips.

"Crawl towards me, Sergeant," your Captain orders which makes your eyes widen. Your mouth opens and closes to make a sound but not a single sound comes out.

Gaz smiles then calls out to you which makes you turn your head towards him. "He asked you to crawl towards him," he tells you.

"Yes, crawl, Sergeant."

You looked back at your Captain as you heard his voice. You slowly lowered yourself onto your knees and hands. You dropped your gaze to the floor in embarrassment.

"Eyes on me, Sergeant," Captain Price says which makes you swallow harshly.

You look your Captain right in the eye. As you reach him, you see your Captain's hands begin to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. Price just smiled wryly as his hand began to remove his cock from his pants. Your eyes move to see his hand moving back and forth on his cock. You can hear Gaz's footsteps coming towards you. He brings his mouth close to your ear.

"He really likes it when I kiss the head of his cock, try it."

You looked at Captain Price and he nodded for you to follow what Gaz said. Slowly you bring your mouth to the head of his cock and start to give it a few kisses. After that you start to give it a lick. You lick Captain Price's cock from the head to near his balls.

Once you are satisfied playing with his cock with licks, you start taking the head of his cock into your mouth. You try to put your Captain's cock in your mouth even deeper, you get even more eager when you hear the moans from your Captain and also the soft laughter from Gaz.

Your eyes catch the satisfied expression on Captain Price's face, with eyes closed and a slightly open mouth that lets out a moan making you slightly squeeze your thighs together to relieve the arousal in your pussy. Shortly you feel Gaz's hand grab your hair and help you move your mouth back and forth on Captain Price's cock more deeply. You feel your eyes watering and want to choke on it.

"Good girl," Price says making you moan on his cock.

"We could have kept her to play with us all along if we'd known she liked it," Gaz says to Price.

"You like this, love?" Price asked as he chuckled and stroked your head.

You can only nod and go back to sucking his cock. You don't know how long you've been sucking Captain Price's cock but you can finally feel that he's about to cum. You suck his cock even harder which makes him curse and tighten his grip on your hair.

You can feel Gaz kissing the side of your neck and giving it a gentle nibble there. Soon you can feel Price's come shooting into your mouth. You tried to take it in your mouth then turned to Gaz and kissed him to share your Captain's cum. Then you and Gaz together clean up Price's cum that's still on his cock until it's clean. Sometimes you two kiss, which makes Price chuckle and stroke your and Gaz's heads.

"I think you two should get a reward. Take your clothes off."

© 2024 aleskyyy

[allllium]

there are not nearly enough gaz fics!!! every cod fic I find is for soap, ghost, or price but whenever I try to find something for gaz it always involves the other three 🥲 pls someone give me recs, I would would be forever grateful 🙏🙏

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse

Note: This is my first try. If it sucks let me know.

Word count: 1705

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two + Part Three + Part Four

You were not an alpha, you were certainly were no quivering omega, and you are not even a fucking beta. What in the name of a metaphorical god are you? With no conclusive, definitive answers to who or what you are. You are left to wander the expanse of earth. 

You have a sniper rifle with the initials of your name faded away. Scratched off by your own hand. Dubbed the lone wanderer. As you were often seen by military packs alone. No pack. No, nothing at your side. Did it matter to you? Not really. You were fine. Right?

Things were different when you were adamant in sewing the wound on your leg by yourself. “Don’t like it? Then…… Then you can fuck off.” you growled. Your fingertips worming their way to take the bullet from your leg. After the bullet was finally removed after several messy, painstaking minutes?

You dosed your wound in rubbing alcohol and hissed. But continued to stitch your own wound up. Contemplating whether to put in staples as well to keep the wound from ripping open again. As you finished up, firmly wrapping the bandage in place and thinking of what move to make.

You looked at your digital watch, five hours until sundown and five hours until you have to find somewhere safe enough to sleep. Limping to an abandoned office or one which looked to be in disuse. You weren’t going to let anyone catch you again. Not like last time, either. 

The screeching of the metal on concrete too familiar for your ears, you found a storage closet and shifted the blankets around to hide inside. Falling asleep to avoid hunger building inside your stomach. The cool metal digging into your body in combination to the thin woollen blankets lulled you. 

Lulled you straight into a slumber. An uneasy slumber. But slumber all the same. Hoping the gunshots in the distance would cover the quiet purrs coming from you, your lips and the office which is usually empty at this time of day. Things were soon to get far worse now. 

Things always tend to get worse before they even get the chance to get better. Life fucks you over and leaves you for the vultures to pick at your corpse. Always the victim. Never the victor. Thus, when you escaped the last pack who tried to claim you by force?

You learned to fight, to shoot, throw a knife and to hunt other animals. Living the high life, right? What more could you ask for? Home? Stability? A pack? A family? Ha! That shit was for Aphas, betas and omegas. You had survived this long on your own, hadn't you?

But what about the scent? Your scent? What about it? It's faint, growing stronger every second, it was your time. But you weren’t ready for it. To be fair, you have never been ‘ready’ for its arrival. And you certainly weren’t ready for it to happen now of all times. 

The heat of your core right up to the tightness in your abdomen. Your heat is coming. Fucking perfect. In the middle of a fucking war zone and your heat comes in while you’re injured. The closet wasn’t going to cut it anymore. You needed somewhere better to hide. Now.

Quickly moving, you grabbed your bone knife, your bag, your sniper rifle. You limped your way out of the closet. The sun is setting. You know what that brings? The hounds of Deadlock. The alphas of task force 141. If you could smell them? Then they already smelt you. 

They claimed stray omegas like they were kings of the fucking world, and anyone who had a problem with that?  Well, they'd just blow their fucking heads off. That's what alphas did. But you? You weren’t going to tango with alphas. A death sentence wrapped inside a twisted hand basket case.

You rarely go into heat. As far as you know, it is quite rare for you to get into heat. The medication you took prevented it from showing. Always taking it two days before one came close to showing. Here you are with your large med bottle empty. No warning.

Like your pathetic, absent deadbeat of a father, you hoped you would not have to see it happen to you. The scent grew stronger still, a sweet coppery tang uniquely yours and yours alone. Panic rushed through you, your body and your senses. Urging, willing, forcing yourself to move faster.

Stumbling into the hallway, moving to the medical room three rooms away from the office you forced yourself to hide in three hours prior. Checking your wristwatch habitually. Two hours until midnight comes knocking on your door. Two more hours until your heat comes in full swing. Only two hours. 

Pushing the barrel of your gun into the door. Forcing your way into the medical room, the smell of clinic grade medical rubbing alcohol assaulted your senses. You didn’t have the patience to be slow and steady like you would have wanted. Not with the impending danger at your heels. 

Shoving a chair underneath the door handle to prevent someone from coming in while you stocked up on antibiotics, clean bandages, painkillers, antiseptic, and any other kind of medical supplies you thought were important for your needs. All of them. Shoved into your backpack. You weren’t going anywhere without them.

With your scent growing increasingly stronger. You worried immensely about them being able to kick down the door and drag you away from there by force. If they found you, you would be as good as theirs. Fucked up leg and all. It didn’t matter that you were in there.

You paused, standing at the door, listening for movement, footsteps down the hall. Listening for the sturdy combat boots to come marching right past you, hoping the room’s medical grade antiseptic and bleach would be strong enough to cover your heat. Your scent. The sticky fluid urging to come out.

Yet you heard nothing. It was silent. Too quiet. Suspiciously silent even. You knew better than to let it conquer your sense of self-preservation. You came too far to let yourself get taken again. You had to wait this one out. No matter how long it took or how hard.

Waiting felt like agony, felt like nails on a chalkboard, every second passing did nothing for your anxiety. The windows were covered to prevent flashlights, helicopter lights and other unwelcome visitors from peaking inside the medical room. Your breaths grew shallower, your stomach getting tighter, and your heat is here.

Your body temperature rising to an unbearable, flow of burning heat. Biting down on your thick leather belt to muffle the sounds coming from your lips. The sound of window glass breaking, shattering as you hid in the medical shower underneath the cold water and away from the door’s window. 

Your grimy, sweaty, dirty clothes removed and left into a bath of white vinegar soaking in a plastic tub. As you used the surgical scrub to clean yourself with. You hoped if you cleaned your clothes with vinegar, soaked it inside it and let it stew within the white vinegar.

Silently hoping by time morning came around your clothes would be dried, clean and ready to wear again for the new day. Trapped inside this medium sized room until the first wave of your intense heat passed on by. It would become unmanageable quickly if you let it control you. 

Ghost sniffed the air, they weren’t going to get to you in time now were they? By the time this wave went through your body. You would be gone and the morning would arrive. And they’d have to smell your sweet scent after the fact. After you were long gone.

“If she hasn’t left yet, in the next six hours, the heat will pass, and she’s gonna be long gone by the time we’ve sniffed her out.” Ghost told Price. Taking another long whiff of the sweetest scent he’s ever smelt in a long time. You’re sweeter than he assumed.

“Are you even sure this stray isn’t an omega like the other we’ve found? What makes you so damn sure she’s not another one?” Price questioned Simon, his voice both gruff and sceptical of his comrade’s analysis over the situation. He had every right to be sceptical over this one.

“Her scent is sweet, tooth rotting levels of sweet, think candy bars and cotton candy. There’s some spice to it, like cinnamon or pumpkin spice in those pumpkin spice lattes Gaz loves drinking so much. It's faint. But it is most certainly there. IF you know where to find it.” 

“But what else makes her so special?” Gaz enquired, hinting at the desire to ascertain as to why General Shepherd sent them out here. His burning urge to know more was there whenever something unusual is brought to their attention. Regardless of how they have personally felt about it all. 

“Well for starters, she’s covering her tracks, if she’s smart enough to do that? Then she’s not an omega, she’s a fucking ghost, mate. If anything, you’d think she’s been out there longer than we’ve been in this shithole. This is her playing field, Gaz. Her prime hunting ground now.” Soap smirked, a grin from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat rather than an alpha wolf’s. 

Gaz pulled out the file with your photo printed onto the white page, “This her Ghost?” Gaz asked ghost for confirmation. He wouldn’t budge until his information, he looked into his own time. 

Ghost remembered you, the rancher hat you wore that day and the bandana hiding half your face from his eyes. Shooting him in the shoulder with a tracking bullet. “Put a tracking bullet into my shoulder with her sniper rifle. It took us two weeks to get it removed without it detonating and taking my arm with it. That’s not a move an omega would make, it’s a move done by professionals. And she is a fucking ghost, moving in time with her surroundings. She’s not a sitting duck for us to come and claim her, she’s a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, that one.”

[dmitriene]

continuation to this work

cw: possible authority, threesome, gangbang, comfort part with tears.

you're doing your best for simon riley, your lieutenant, one and only man you offer your body and soul to so rawly, hold out in your shaking palms for him to do anything he pleases, and you wouldn't refuse, as obedient, sweet like a pup he raised all for himself, accepting everything he gives you, any word, command, caress or a harsh, possessive tug.

shaped for him, you learn to arch your back sharp and wait, in his quarters, on his dark sheets, naked and presenting, doesn't matter if simon comes in tired, angry or almost boneless, he indulges in your sweet body anytime he can, calloused fingers skimming down the fragile curvature of your spine, pressing, circling at the tender skin, knowing that you're already dripping down your quivering thighs.

simon invited john to your sacred relationship, letting him indulge in your tight, pliable hole, always messy, stretched out around your lieutenant's thick, engorged cock and dripping out frothy globs of cum, soaking in the rumbled sheets below your twitching body, price doesn't waits anymore before sinking in, filling you pleasantly, cock heavy and fat, nudging against your spongy spot and making you claw forward.

nuzzling against simon's muscular thigh, his cock leaking precum against the small pudge on his stomach, you whine out, voice already slurred, stuttering little calls to them both, as john's drawn out, deep ruts of hips jolt your body forward, folding your knees against your tummy by the force of his body, slotting over your back, making you slump and cry weakly in filling pleasure.

and if you accepted price, sure there shouldn't be any problem if simon will invite two more, johnny and kyle, you hear their names buzzing in your ears, clogged, unable to comprehend anything more than the heavy weight of john's flaccid cock on your drooling, wriggling tongue, he's spent already, pumped you full enough so his seed would dribble out, now contented to just smooth his rough palms over your warm, hollowed cheeks.

body fervent, you're already too overstimulated to proceed, your cunt twitching and leaking loads of cum, but when simon pats down the swell of your ass, thumb spreading at the fat, revealing your swelling hole, purring how obedient and pretty you are, you can't say no when he asks if boys can have a taste, eyes wide and excited, cerulean blues meeting the honeyed irises, so easy to make their cocks hard in their cargos, as they marvel at the sight of you.

no matter what, it's still simon in who's hands you end up, snuggled tight against his solid, heaving chest, little hairs that dust his skin are a soothing caress against your wet cheeks, heat dissipating from your skin slowly, you cried, when it's all got too much, their cocks, their hands, playful kisses bordering on aggressive and back, rugged, tanned skin turning into ebony, softened, and then repeating, johnny and kyle both different sides of each other, but able to act together as if synchronized.

simon didn't made you wait when you started crying, worried, eyes crinkled, furrowing alongside his brows at such emotional display, he wasn't interested if they got enough of you, batting an urgent, heavy hand and making them all take a step back, john already dressed and confused, arms crossed tight over his chest, murmuring something to the boys, nothing you can remember, before ending up tucked under clean, cottony sheets.

when you start to recognize your surroundings back again, twisting to the side a bit, the arm around you tightens, muscular, wretched with tattoos, simon, you think contentedly, and seems by the grumble he let out, vibrating away from his chest, you croaked his name out, as he brushed a soothing thumb over your tummy, cupping at the supple skin, making you mold back against his body, mind dissolving back into the deep slumber.

you can be your lieutenant's pup, but he's responsible for your well being and comfort, and should you show any signs of being uncomfortable, hurt, or worse, simon is overtaken with a primal need, to protect, to heal, and to soothe, hide you in his embrace from the overwhelming world around.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[the-whispers-of-death]

Part Two the Pretend Boyfriend!Gaz, because I can't just leave it off there. My next post will most likely be a countenance of Grumpy!Reader (looking forward to that).

It was the week of Thanksgiving, so you and Gaz headed in his car to your grandmother's place. You spent the entire time leading up to this week by getting comfortable with pretending Gaz was your boyfriend. You both got your stories straight, learning to be touchy with each other but not too touchy (which was how you two already were, not that either of you noticed), so no one would be able to tell that you two were just best friends.

Gaz pulled his car into the driveway of your grandmother's house, you two early. While you got out of the car and took the dessert you had made, Gaz wrapped his arm around your waist while you two walked to the front door. He knocked on the door and waited for your grandmother to open the door.

"Grandma, it's so good to see you!" You said when she opened the door, a bright smile on both of your faces. You gave Gaz the dessert before hugging your grandma and gesturing to Gaz beside you. "Grandma, this is Kyle, my boyfriend."

Gaz's smile was charming as always, so polite. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. {Last Name}. I'm honored you and your family invited me, I've been excited to you meet you all," he said while shaking her hand.

He wasn't joking, he had been excited to meet your family. From your stories you've told him and the rest of the 141, your family was close-knit, warm with each other. You had four siblings, you the youngest of five, and three of your siblings had children of their own. So it was a large family when adding in your aunts, uncles and cousins. And he was eager to meet all of them.

"Aw, you're such a sweet man, just my granddaughter/grandson said you were. Please, call me Grandma and come, come." Your grandmother ushered you both inside the house, the smell of delicious food wafting towards you both. She took the dessert from you, letting you get settled with your siblings while she and your parents cooked the food.

Gaz had tried to ask if they wanted help, but your parents shooed him away from the kitchen. So you both sat on the couch with your siblings. You pointed to each, saying their names.

"So, Kyle," your oldest brother started saying, his skeptical eyes taking in every detail of Gaz. "When did you and my sibling meet?"

That was an easy question, one that hadn't had needed to be changed and memorized since it was just when you two met. So Gaz told them it was two years ago, which was when you had been transferred to the 141. Your other siblings chimed in with other questions, questions geared towards your pretend relationship. Gaz didn't skip a beat, easily slipping into the role of your boyfriend.

By the time dinner was ready, your entire family was in the house, making it a bit crowded. You all sat at the large dining table, you and Gaz sitting beside each other. You were just eating when your father peered at Gaz. "So, Kyle, what are your intentions with my child?" he asked, watching Gaz's reaction closely.

"Dad," you hissed, frowning at his question. To which your father waved your annoyance off.

"I just want to know he's not stringing you along," your father said defensively. "You're an adult, yes, but you're still my child. I want to know you're being taken care of by a man who sees a future with you."

You were about to grumble, but Gaz gently took your hand in his, letting your entwined hands rest on the dining table.

"I understand, sir. I take no offense," he replied, rubbing the back of your hand soothingly with his thumb. "I see a future with them, sir. Our relationship has been going on for six months now, but I can already see the two of us settling down together. {Name} is amazing and I'm happy with them." He turned towards you, a loving smile on his face which only echoed in his beautiful brown eyes. "Forgive me for saying it so abrasively, but I love them."

Your father seemed pleased and that and his questions to Gaz shifted to just general questions about Gaz. His family, what his plans were in the future in terms of his job.

Gaz was fitting in with your family so well, laughing and joking with them like he had known them since forever. Your hands were still entwined, and it felt right. It felt right to be pretending to be dating Gaz.

After dinner was over, you, your siblings, and your cousins all moved outside in the backyard, your siblings' kids coming outside too. While you sat and chatted with your family, Gaz was pulled into playing with the kids. You watched with fond eyes, eyes that couldn't be faked, smiling as he laughed and played with the kids.

Just as you all were watching Gaz giving each kid a piggyback ride on his back, your oldest sister (who was the second oldest of your siblings) looked at you and chuckled. "Oh, you're so in love," she said, causing your other siblings to laugh.

Your first instinct was to deny it, but the ruse had to be maintained, so you turned to look back at Gaz and the smile on your face was so genuine. "Yeah, I am."

It surprised you how much of the truth that was, it not entirely being a lie. You had never thought you had fallen for Gaz, seeing as you two were always just close to each other. But when you thought about it, you really were in love with Gaz. It was why your first and only thought when needing someone to pretend to be your boyfriend, was to think of asking Gaz. He was a good man, and if tonight was any indication, he was also a good boyfriend.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind, but it ended so late, so you and Gaz had to sleep in the living room. Gaz helped your father move the couch and bring in the air mattress from the garage, you and your mother getting the blankets from the linen closet.

You and Gaz said goodnight to your family and when it was just the two of you in the living room, you started making the couch, while Gaz was making the spare mattress.

"What are you doing?" Gaz asked, having realized what you were doing. He finished putting the sheets and pillows on the air mattress before going over to stop you.

"I'm going to be sleeping on the couch," you said, not willing to budge on your decision, even when he tried to stop you from putting the sheet on the couch.

Gaz shook his head. "First of all, I'd be the one sleeping on the couch. There's just no way I'd let you take it when you should have the bed. And second of all, what happens when your family wakes up in the middle of the night or wakes up before us in the morning and sees us sleeping separately?" He saw you about to argue and he shushed you gently. "Come on, mate. It's not the first we've shared a bed. Let's just share it. Unless you're really that uncomfortable, in that case, I'm taking the couch. Not you."

You were hesitant on sharing a bed with him, especially after you realized your feelings for him, but you couldn't deny his logic of your family getting suspicious of the ruse if they found you two sleeping separately. So you took the extra sheets and pillow back to the linen closet before coming back to the living room. You both looked away from each other when dressing into sleepwear and then you two got underneath the covers.

You had gone to sleep with a few inches of space between you two, wanting not to make him uncomfortable by cuddling. But in the morning, you woke up to laying on top of Gaz while he slept on his back, his strong arms wrapped around your waist protectively.

Your mother, who had woken you up by cooing at the sight of you and Gaz intertwined, snapped a picture of you. But you couldn't focus on that, your heart was beating so fast at the close proximity with Gaz.

And you knew you were fucked when he woke up and gave you a lazy smile while saying "Good morning" in that husky voice of his. You were too deep in love now.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[luboy7rt]

Task Force 141 as Your Roommate! (Gn!Reader - Headcanons)

(Includes: Jonathan (John) Price, Johnny (John) ‘Soap’ MacTavish, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley)

Jonathan ‘John’ Price:

- He is a clean roommate, whatever he dirties he always ends up cleaning it immediately. He folds laundry very tightly, everything he folds would be able to fit into a duffle bag. 

- John ends up buying quite a lot of the replenishables around the house. He just tends to spot the fact you need more things before you do, he replaces it without you even noticing half the time.

He knows if you have a schedule or not; he just picks up on things. He will attempt to subtly help you if you need it.

- John's great at communicating, every little issue you have with each other can and will be solved easily so there is no issue between you two. 

- He tries to sneak in quietly whenever he returns home late from missions, yet every time it’s one small thing that always happens that ends up catching your attention. (Ex: Accidentally smacking his boot against the door, or placing his duffle bag down too heavily) It’s always a different thing every time. This agitates him to know the end, he is not a clumsy man but it's just a bad habit he accidentally got into as he's not used to having a roommate.

- If you guys have a camera, before he leaves for missions he always says something to the camera, always something sneaky or something he found funny to try and bond with you even if hes away often. If you catch him doing stupid while leaving your apartment, no. No, you didn't.

- John is gone a lot on missions (like all of them are) so he really trusts you to take care of your shared home as he leaves his most important possessions there and will always return back to your shared space.

Johnny (John) ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

(Just using Johnny to not mistake him with Price) 

- Johnny eats all your groceries whenever he is home. He apologizes and gives you money to repay for it, but he also doesn't stop. Tries to make a conscious effort to do so, but he gets to comfortable and ends up eating them all anyway. Always makes it up to you though, gives you money or goes shopping for you whenever you need it.

- Leaves sticky notes around the house of tasks for himself or you to do, some of the notes of just really sweet reminders, requests, or compliments.

- He sometimes would forget to send you his half of the bills, he always apologizes for it and quickly makes up for it, pays it, and ends up buying you your favorite snacks/drinks. 

- Type of guy to sing at 2AM before realizing you probably might be trying to sleep 30 minutes into his amazing set. Peeks his head into your room with a sheepish smile to apologize under his breath if you're awake, and might even mutter an apology if you're asleep.

-Johnny would leave his stuff everywhere, despite the fact he's usually good at knowing where his stuff is. He's a messy ‘I know where everything is’. Will try to clean up If you ask though if you decide you both can't live in messy organized chaos.

- Johnny tries to do the dishes, cleans the living area, and takes out the garbage before he goes away on long missions because he doesn't want to leave it all on you when he knows he leaves it messy.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

- Pays the bills on time, he will pay your half but expects you to repay him if you forget. (if you both are 50/50 on bills) he would be willing to change up on what you guys buy or pay for.

- He dances when cooking, and sometimes you wake up to him vibing in the kitchen getting it down while he blasts music, he apologizes a lot if he wakes you up and tries to lower the volume every time he does want a small cooking party. (You will go to sleep one night while Kyle is away on a mission and might wake up to his music in the kitchen while he's partying like he hasn't been up for 42 hours and just returned from a long mission) 

- You'll know when Kyle's home, he tries to make himself known by humming or talking to you randomly to just try and check up on you. Really tries to get on your good side to make up for the fact he's not around very often.

- Kyle leaves you cooked food for when he knows he's going away on missions for long, leaves personally cooked containers in the fridge to try and ensure your caring for yourself while he's gone.

- He likes just being around when he's home, even if it just means silently sitting In the same room doing separate tasks. Kyle likes the ‘normalcy’ of it all.

- Kyle likes hiding nice things for you to find around the apartment (ex; flowers, pretty rocks, money that he definitely didn't place on purpose) he doesn't even tell you, just likes waiting for you to find it and texts him a picture because he gets giddy about it.

- Will always pick up the phone when you need him, sends you a text instead if he's doing something important. Will do you favors. If you ask for snacks on his way home? Yeah, he is getting it for you, doesn't end up letting you pay for it though.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

- He eats your food accidentally some times, he always replaces it before you notice, if you cooked it? Oh wow, You have a totally different color food of the same thing from Simon attempting to re-make it for you. He ends up just leaving cash on top of it as an apology.

- He makes sure not to leave too much of a mess for you, he's busy but he really tries to clean before he goes away on longer missions. 

- You don't know when this man is home he is so quiet, you go for water at 4AM? You'll see him standing in the kitchen like a ghost staring at you until you notice him. (If you freakout, he flinches back but gives you a offended look like he wasn’t the one standing in the pitch black room)

- He moves stuff around sometimes when he's antsy, the living room might be rearranged by the time you leave your room. And he's already gone on a mission so you can't complain until he comes back. (He does try and keep this to a minimum and fixes it if you need him to. If you annoy him enough he ends up just changing his room and leaving the rest).

- He randomly leaves you money to find, simply plopping a 50 in your bag, or in your closet. Simon just doesn't tell you You randomly find it through the weeks. If you try to text him about it he simply doesn't give you an answer about it (also refuses if you try and give it back to him).

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (1 of 4)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, protective Kyle, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

With no one to turn to, you contact Gaz, knowing that he'll listen. But old instincts are hard to ignore, and Gaz comes to you because your current boyfriend isn't worth your love. He needs you to understand that.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

It’s late. The colors on the television are bright in the dark room. Sound is off but Kyle isn’t watching. It’s more for the background. A distraction. All the muscles in his body ache. That’s how it always is when he returns from another deployment.

Everything is fine until he arrives home and plops onto the sofa. Like a slumbering bear emerging from winter hibernation, his body reacts to the sudden silence of rest as if peace isn’t something Kyle deserves. It’s why he’s always gone, and because of his continuous absences, you left.

Lonely. You were always lonely with him, and it’s because Kyle made it so. It’s a constant regret that sits in the back of his throat like spice buildup. It burns. Rages. Simmers.

When Kyle’s phone starts buzzing, he doesn’t notice at first. The screen is bright like the television, but it isn’t until its rattling boxy body shifts that Kyle’s gaze glances downward. He considers leaving it, allowing the caller to fall to voicemail, but something stirs in his stomach. It hooks his attention.

Perhaps it’s the late hour or the sudden tightness in his chest. Something is bothering him like stubborn sticky spots on the kitchen floor.

Kyle sits up, reaching for the vibrating phone on the tabletop.

Your name scrolls across the screen.

At first, Kyle’s mind cannot comprehend it. The letters that make up your name move over the screen of the phone in a blur, almost like they’re moving too quickly. But that isn’t possible. Kyle’s mind simply cannot comprehend why the hell you’re calling him this late at night.

You are no longer his. The two of you aren’t together. You moved on and rightfully so. Kyle has seen all the social media posts, and sometimes the blokes at work might bring you up, usually to provoke him. But the fucking joke is on them. The separation was mutual. It was kind and calm and fine.

But that doesn’t mean Kyle hasn’t thought about you. There is no box inside his head to put you in. There is no hole or lock or key or barren wasteland where he could simply toss your memory into and forget.

Kyle didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want to let you go.

But you weren’t happy. He was always gone, and still is. Kyle never figured out how to be a partner to you when he was a partner to his work.

He regrets not fighting for you. He regrets not speaking up instead of gently bowing out.

And it’s late. It’s fucking late. Why are you calling him?

Hope—or a sliver of it—blooms in his chest, twisting around inside his body like ribbons around bone. When the feeling pulls taut, that excitement slides into worry.

The two of you are not together.

You rarely call him.

But his phone is buzzing.

And you are waiting on the other end.

Kyle’s slides his thumb across his phone’s screen, answering the call. He brings it up his ear, and that is when he hears it—a choked inhalation. It is one he recognizes. You’re crying, and trying to hide it.

“What’s wrong?” asks Kyle automatically, the instinct to take care of you rising to the surface.

There is a soft sniffle before you speak. “It’s—fuck. I’m sorry for calling you this late. I didn’t think you’d even pick up. Or be home. Are you home? Shit. I—”

“What’s wrong?” he repeats, because there has to be something wrong. You’re calling him, not your boyfriend. “Are you hurt?”

The idea of someone putting hands on you builds in his mind. It is followed by so many other possibilities. A wrecked car. Someone following you home. Everything.

“No—I mean.” You pause, sighing. The difficulty to communicate doesn’t sit right with him. You’re clearly in distress and the need to fix it is unbearable.

“Are you at home?” This time Kyle lowers his voice. Makes it soft. Gentle.

“Yes,” you answer.

He nods as if you can see him. “I’m coming over.” Kyle is already pushing off the couch, shrugging on his coat, and reaching for his keys.

“Kyle.” You say his name—just his name—and it says so much.

The ribbon between his bones loosens. Tightens. Ties his emotions and memory of you all together until your face is all he can picture.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Kyle makes it in fifteen.

When you answer the door, Kyle shatters like glass hurled against the wall. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. The look on your face dances between anger, sadness, and relief. He has no idea where on the spectrum he currently sits but this vision of you only puts him back to those days when he’d come home for a few days, taking off again, leaving you with nothing for stretches at a time.

There are no awkward greetings. No embarrassed flushes. Kyle does not hesitate, and you open for him. He reaches for you, and you answer in kind, embracing Kyle so hard you might squeeze the air from his lungs.

That would be fine. Kyle would happily suffocate.

Kyle stands and holds you, breathing in your familiar scent, pressing his face into your hair. His eyes close, and it’s just like before. Like you never left him. The sensation of you this close ignites every possessive part of him. It tells him to not let go and to keep you close.

But you are not his woman. Not anymore. And yet you should be.

He does not pull away until you do. But you don’t retreat into your flat, or slip out of reach. You stay right where you are, the two of you hovering just inside the doorway. On instinct, Kyle is touching you, one hand cupping the side of your face, your tears staining his skin where he touches your flesh. His other hand is on your upper arm, thumb rubbing across the bare skin there in gentle strokes.

You begin to melt, the muscles in your body relaxing. What Kyle wants to do is to take you to the couch or the bed, to drape you over his body, to place you in his lap. That is the intimacy he craves. It’s what he would do if you were still his.

Those gorgeous lips of your part, mouth opening as if you wish to speak, but whatever you want to say is lodged in your throat. In their place come fresh tears and sudden shifts of emotions that range from frustration to despair.

You’re hurting. You’re hurting so much, and Kyle only wants to fix things.

“Look at me,” murmurs Kyle, both hands now cradling your face. “Let’s get you settled. Yeah?” You nod, your small smile forced. “Come with me,” he coaxes.

He draws away and gently reaches out to take your hand, guiding you over to the sofa. He instructs you to recline, grabbing a few more pillows and a blanket. Once you’re all tucked in, Kyle digs around in your kitchen searching for snacks while the kettle boils for tea.

The need to take care of you is overwhelming. Kyle’s head throbs from the incessant voice that tells him to get you calm, to make you comfortable, to listen when you’re ready. The routine is easy, and Kyle provides, executing what you need without prompting or even second guessing it.

And you open up for him. Thank him. Reach out with your hand to hold his as he sits next to you on the couch. You’re calmer now with your tears wiped away and your face no longer puffy.

“Ready to talk about it?”

Your thumb runs along the edge of your mug. “Still want to hear it?”

“You can tell me anything,” he replies automatically.

You lick your lips and inhale. “He yelled at me.” By the defeat in your tone, Kyle can immediately tell that this isn’t the first time.

Kyle stays quiet, allowing you to take the lead, to tell it however you need to.

“This time it happened after we met up with some of his friends. I called him ‘boyfriend’ and got a few odd looks. In the car he told me not to call him that. I didn’t understand so I pushed.” You glance down at your tea. “He screamed the whole ride home. Dropped me off here and wouldn’t even look at me.”

Kyle goes cold all over. You’ve been with this guy for almost six months and he’s upset that you referred to him as your ‘boyfriend?’ No. Fuck him. That’s fuck boy behavior. That’s a man who wants all the benefits without any of the commitment. You don’t deserve that. And this fucker doesn’t deserve you.

Sighing, you reach for your phone and unlock it, turning it around to present it. Kyle takes it, staring at the screen. There are texts upon texts from the guy, all of which you’ve left unanswered. It starts as an apology and quickly becomes angrier as he scrolls.

But you did answer him. It’s the very last message. You sent it just before you called Kyle.

We’re done, it reads.

And there is no answering reply. There are no pulsing bubbles to even indicate that he’s formulating a response.

Good. Fucking good.

Kyle extends his arm, returning the phone. You don’t lock it. You shut it down, tossing it onto the table. Placing the mug of tea down, you sit up, staring intensely into Kyle’s eyes. There is so much he sees there, but he won’t move first even though he wants to, even though he wants you to return to his arms so he can remind you just how perfect the two of you are for each other.

But sometimes memory and the movement of it are just the length of a singular breath.

Maybe it is Kyle that moves first. Maybe it is you. In moments—seconds—you are straddling Kyle’s lap, arms laced around the back of his neck, your mouths pressed together in perfectly wanton need, a reunion that shakes every bone in his body.

You are fresh air. Cold ice cream on a hot summer day. Strawberries with sugar and cream. Sweet. Perfect. And only for his consumption. That is always how it should be.

Kyle’s hands slide up your body, over every curve.

“I miss you. I miss you all the time,” you confess, fingers digging into the front of his shirt.

Your admission is validation.

“I’d never tell you to not call me ‘boyfriend,’” murmurs Kyle against your mouth before going in for another kiss. “I’d want to hear you say it all the time.”

His words are a promise. An invitation.

Take me back. Please. Choose me.

Your lips part and Kyle slides his tongue inside, relearning your flavor. It is heaven dissolving on his tongue. He chases it, chases you, until you’re tugging at his clothes, wanting them gone.

It doesn’t matter that this is your sofa. If you want him, Kyle will lay himself bare, let you have whatever the fuck you want. There isn’t much to remove from you, but once the two of you are bare and you are straddling his lap, Kyle gives all his love and attention to these next moments.

Your body briefly resists, and then it melts, allowing him entrance. Kyle wraps one arm around your waist, hand splayed over your lower back to support your weight as you roll your hips up and down his cock. His other hand holds onto the side of your throat, keeping your gaze on him as you fuck yourself on him.

It’s glorious. Perfect. You are so slick and warm around him. He never forgot, but the real thing is better than memory. Better than his hand in the shower or the dark. You are moaning, light and wavering and only for him.

Your fingers dig in, nails clawing but not tearing. On the next rock of your hips, Kyle slides deep, and the sound you make nearly snaps his control. He holds fast, hand sliding to squeeze your ass as your movements become frantic and with no purposeful rhythm. You’re seeking your end, and Kyle wants you to have it. He needs you to have it.

“Come on my cock, love. For me. Yes. Like that.” You squeeze and Kyle groans loudly. “That’s it. Fucking hell, love.

You turn your face into his neck to stifle the cry that erupts from your throat as your orgasm hits you. Kyle nearly finishes himself, your pussy a vice around him, claiming him. A shudder runs through your limbs, and then you’re nipping at Kyle’s neck and jaw.

“Finish inside me,” you whimper, drawing back enough to gaze into his eyes.

Kyle doesn’t need you to say it twice.

Changing position, Kyle slides both hands to the curve of your ass. Lifting, he shifts you until he’s propped up on his knees. Your legs drape over his arms, completely open for him. You cling to him and Kyle brings your bodies together over and over again.

He will finish—he will, but Kyle needs to hear that word first.

“Are you mine?” he asks between clenched teeth. It’s the only thing keeping him steady. He’s ready to snap, ready to release.

You nod and it isn’t enough.

“Say it.”

“Yours.”

“Mine.”

Kyle grinds his pelvis against you, rubbing perfectly across your already sensitive clit. You cry out, clench around him again, but still, he needs to hear you say it.

“What am I to you?”

“Kyle,” you moan, and he laughs.

“Not that.” A little spasm runs through you and Kyle feels it reverberate all the way to his brain. “Won’t give you what you want until you say it.”

You gasp as the next thrust punches the air from your lungs. “Boyfriend,” you manage to whimper. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Fucking right.

Kyle immediately takes you to your back on the couch, thrusting a few more times before pressing taut, sealing your bodies together as his own release overcomes him.

His mouth meets yours and Kyle’s body is singing, pulsing, and bright.

You are his.

You are his.

You are his again.

taglist:

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