#for the gaz lovers (me)
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kyle doesn’t tell you when he’s back from deployment.
one day you’ll be waiting at a cross walk when you suddenly feel a tap on your left shoulder. you’ll turn but nothings there and then you feel it. a firm, warm hand grabbing your right one.
he’s on your right, interlacing your fingers and giving you a lopsided smile.
“miss me?”
#.txt#.mine#.gaz#.cod#just feels like the kind of guy that just pops up#you wanna be ready and have dinner made for him#he’s like nah let me just tag along mid way into your day#like we’re old lovers running errands#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#gaz fluff#kyle garrick fluff#kyle gaz x reader
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Y'all ever get so heated that all you wanna do to calm down is to lay in someone's embrace?
Gaz x Male Reader
All fluff!
Ever think of going to Gaz after having a shitty day, where nothing went as they were supposed to. Your day was shit, waking up later than usual, getting chewed out, training didn't go well at all, some other soldier bumping into you at the mess hall making you spill some of your food on the ground and you just felt so drained and the cold environment did not help at all.
Stalking through the halls with your back tense with frustration. You can feel your jaw getting tighter and your brows furrowing as little bits of your day flashes in your mind. You walk around mindlessly as you try to think of a good way to de-stress, itching for the touch of a certain sergeant. And speak of the devil there he is.
You see Gaz being illuminated in the glow of the tv in front of him, the thin blanket wrapped around him making him look so much cozier. it's as if God was giving you a sign.
Gaz tore his eyes away from the telly to lock on to yours, seems like he noticed you, standing there all awkward. With a small quirk to his lips he beckoned you over with his hand, you immediately followed the order to sit next to him on the couch.
"Bad day?" He asks you, wrapping an arm around your stiff shoulders. You only grunt as an answer and relax into his hold, all the tension and frustration in your system melting away as he brings you closer to his side.
"Big guy just needed his cuddles after a long day, hmm?" He teased, you put all your weight onto him as a response. He's now stuck between the couch and you, effectively using your body to replace the thin blanket he had earlier.
You place your head between his pecs and he wraps his arms around you, gently stroking at your back, knowing that it helps you get more comfortable and just as he expects, you absolutely melt into the touch. Letting out content hums in the space between you. How easily you turned to putty in his embrace.
Gaz chuckles as he sees your brows unfurrow. Seems like you're getting quite comfortable there.
With a kiss to the top of your head he settles in, turning his head to face the tv once more but this time he has something infinitely better than that thin ass blanket.
#cod#cod x male reader#call of duty#x male reader#cod mw2 x male reader#tf 141 x reader#kyle gaz garrick x male reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x male reader#gaz#gaz x reader#kyle garrick#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick x male reader#guri writes#ayee guess who wrote a drabble before sleeping again (me)#im so touch starved#i am unabashedly a fluff lover#the most basic fluff thing ever? yeah thats my jam#i love freaky shit too dont get me wrong i just have no experience writing like that lol
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poly!141 but it’s them struggling to come home to you, their wife, because how else can they explain why johnny’s not with them this time or forever after?
#sun rambles#part of me luvs thinking its price who takes over but im so… content (?) at the idea that itd be gaz#how he folds you to him and tells you. pure honesty and no bs and his pain so raw that for a while#for a hot blistering moment you push your own anguish into the cracks of your ribs#because your lover is in your arms splintering at the edges and#you need to take care of him — and somehow holding gaz. holding a piece of your world and helping him with his suffering#…helped (?) a little bit
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soapgaz not knowing they’re in love because they’re basically dating already
gaz kissing soap goodnight on the forehead bc he did it once when he was drunk. soap grabbing gaz’s hand to drag him around when he wants to show him something. calling each other pet names and giggling ab it until it starts to become second nature. gaz making soap coffee just how he likes it each morning. soap holding gaz’s face in his hands to check for bruises. curling up together when they’re tired.
they’re already so close they don’t realize that their feelings aren’t just platonic anymore
#they make me so heart eyes emoji#call of duty#cod#john mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish#kyle garrick#kyle gaz garrick#soapgaz#soap x gaz#gaz x soap#gazsoap#gaz cod#soap call of duty#friends to lovers
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Bookworm!Reader meeting Gaz, who is home from his recent deployment, in a library. You're perusing the shelves, looking for your next book to read. Maybe you wear glasses, maybe you don't. Maybe you're also in the military, home from a deployment.
Either way, you're walking down the aisles, when you see Gaz (I'm using Elliot Knight's height as reference) struggling to get a book that he wants. So you, who is taller than 5'11", you go and help him. After helping him get the book, you two get to talking about the books you've read, the genres you both like the best.
Turns out you both like the same type of books and you'd love to recommend each other books, but you both know it'd be an extensive list that shouldn't be said in the library because you're taking up aisle space. So, you two give each other your phone numbers and set up a time to meet. And you both go to your designated location on the day of, with lists of recommendations in your hands. And he's even sweeter than he was before! And so you two continue to meet up and talk about your favorite books, unknowingly going out on little dates.
Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!
#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick x male reader#kyle gaz garrick x gender neutral reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x female reader#call of duty#cod mwii#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mw2#cod#cod x reader#desi!reader#tall!reader#i wholly-heartedly believe gaz is the only one in the 141 who reads#and that's the highest compliment I can give any of them#this is for my gaz lovers#aka me#gaz cod#gaz mw2#:)
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Imagine poly!141 except it's also an actor au and nobody knows they're poly so everyone including other cast members, fans, staff, hell even the director are all trying to piece together who's dating who and betting on it. It's the number one most discussed topic of gossip, and I personally think it would be hilarious if Valeria and Milena are discussing who they think Ghost likes but then Shepherd over hears them and it turns into them explaining the LGBTQ+ community or smth to gramps .
Valeria: No but Ghost is definitely into Soap did you see how they were flirting during the filming of the Alone mission?
Milena: Yeah but that was scripted so obviously there had to be some tension, it's nothing compared to when I saw Gaz driving Ghost to the set today
Valeria: So? Maybe it could just be out of convenience
Milena: Gaz doesn't even need to film anything today plus with that eye sore of a hickey on Ghost's neck, something has got to be happening between the two of them I'm sure of it
Valeria: sure enough to bet on it?
Milena *scoffing*: even money hungry off set huh?
Valeria: aren't you meant to be the money obsessed one?
Milena *rolling her eyes*: oh piss off will you
*walking up and greeting Milena and valeria* Shepherd: what are you two talking about that's gotten Milena over here so upset?
Valeria: you know what? Now that I'm thinking about it, I might actually be able to take you up on your request, don't have too much fun without me though! *Speed walks away*
Milena *chasing after her*: OI DONT JUST LEAVE WHEN ITS MOST CONVENIENT FOR YOU,YOU BASTARD!
Yeah so change of plans they actually just ditch Shepherd so my bad
#milena and valeria would be the top gossipers if they ever met each other fight me on this#milena x valeria enemies to lovers yuri world domination#i love women#valeria garza#milena romanova#call of duty mwii#poly!141#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#john price#general shepherd#putting 5 million hashtags always makes me feel so desperate so please spare me my dignity and ignore it#actor au#uhhh what other hashtags can i put idrk
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Okay sure just split the group again I'm sure nothing could go wrong this time dividing them into sub-groups to sting at high levelled and relatively unknown areas with high risk and high threat of boss level enemies in the vicinity and then go on another break to make us stew on that, it's fine IT'S FINE!
#critical role#bell's hells#cr spoilers#c3 e89#critical role spoilers#the volition#ruby vanguard#the imperium#ruidus#unseelie court#universe really gotta hit me with Frieren season finale and CR going on a break AND One Piece going on a break!#it's like you want me to have nothing to do on Friday#honestly how many times in all 3 campaigns has splitting up worked? Not a lot Matt it's just evil PCs have died#my Callowmoore heart of course is relieved that Ashton and Fearne are in the same group this time - they're not gonna lose her again#maybe we can sneak in some combo moves for Bearne and Bashton - play a bit of holies#but still it's difficult to gauge how to deal with Athion plus maybe a dragon indoors plus Ira's willingness to leave people behind#Otohan and Ludinus can be lurking anywhere too#we still have no idea where Ryn is being kept either#the Liliana assassination attempt is doomed to fail and as much as it's a terrible choice I think Imogen needs to let her go#she talks about Ludinus like an abusive lover but acts blind to the cries of the people she says she's protecting#like woman go home! If they need you then removing yourself from the board stops them that's why there's a target on your back#but we all believe in Gaz supremacy at least#and more moon lore always gotta have the moon lore#tag reader's bonus: turtles live in every continent except antarctica#idk usually I have this many tags in ship posts so I drop a headcanon but this is more just panic so you get a nice turtle fact
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omg i think i maxed the tags on this
the way everything played out oh my god hes soooo affectionate. how he kisses you all the time everywhere and is just so familiar with you omg that's driving me crAZY
and his teeth sinking into the side of your neck/?? OMG i CANNAWT THATS INSANE. then JUST WHEN YOU NEEDED HIM MOST HE PULLS OUT SJHDFBAS TO SEE YOU !>>>!/!?!? KYLEEE ??!?!? gODDAMN ROMANTIC THATS WHATT HE IS
.... he tells you youre pretty..... god..... this paragraph HAD ME: You’re pretty sure he’s full of shit; you’re panting like you’ve run a marathon, you’re sweaty, your hair is dishevelled, and you’re still wearing the ugly sweatshirt you had put on earlier. Yet, even still, Gaz’s genuine little compliment has your heart flipping in your ribcage.
the intimacy of it all has me clutching MY CHEST ohmy gos and he. says he loves you.. oh my god.... why am i crying GODDAMN... and him at the end... oh god
when he cups your cheeks... im SAWBING... his little kisses oh my god... the comfort of everything jdfbgdjf how you both inch closer to eachotherhgfvsjdf :(( how he's rolled w even the most unreasonable attitude thrown his way :(( if anyone else would be as patient as you :(( oh my HEART
Gaz is the most beautiful man you’ve ever met, funny and sweet and always so caring. You love him, even if it kills you a little to admit it, and you don’t know how to respond to his admission that he’s been faithful to you during the long months you weren’t together. <- started crying here AGAIN. he's such a sweetheart GOD im ACHING
aNd WHEN YOU ASK HIM TO STAY :((( CMON NOW :((( UGH KYLE YOU BEAUTIFUL, STUPID HANDSOME MAN :((( AND HOW HE HOLDS YOU TIGHTLY TOOSDGASBJD GOOSSFHSD all the emotions in thisdfjbs and his shaky little exhale oh god
op thank you so much for writing this i am deeply WRECKED i love this so much and im so sorry for all the word vomit in the tags oh my god
ミ stay for something
🍓 pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem reader
🍓 tags: nsfw, ex-boyfriend!gaz, unprotected vaginal sex, lack of communication, jealousy, 'just the tip' trope, sex with feelings
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
You hate wasting a Friday night on a first date, but you had genuinely high hopes for this one. You had made such an effort, too; pretty sparkly eyeshadow, strawberry-flavoured lipgloss, a new little black dress.
You look good. You feel good.
It’s just a shame that the guy is a bit of a moron.
He talks about himself a lot over dinner. Like, so much. You sit and smile and pretend to listen, your gaze wandering, and wonder if he’s going to ask any questions about you. He does (eventually), but they’re short and perfunctory and he seems to just take your answers and use them as a springboard into his next topic of discussion.
It’s a little tedious, but hey. First dates usually are. You weather it, your polite smile turning a little stiff as you sip your wine. Truthfully, you have ulterior motives here.
You’re not proud of it, but you don’t think you can handle the dry spell you’re going through anymore. You crave touch, affection, some kind of connection. You’re okay with being single, but god you’re so hungry for intimacy that it’s led to you agreeing to a date with a guy that you honestly wouldn’t have normally been into just for the chance of getting some action.
Ben is a nice enough guy, and he’s certainly good looking; neatly groomed hair, straight white teeth, a nice physique. He’s in good shape, though you can’t help but subconsciously compare him to—
No, you think sternly to yourself, Don’t do that.
When he leans into you at the end of the date and asks in a low, sultry voice if you want to continue the night with him, you agree a little breathlessly. God, it’s been a long time since you were touched.
Your place is closer, and you can’t help but feel a little illicit thrill as you lead Ben back. You never usually bring guys back to yours, especially not on the first date, but you’ll be the first to admit that you’re needy tonight.
The weather is getting colder as winter creeps its icy fingers through the air, but you’re wrapped tight in your coat and kept nice and warm as Ben wraps an arm around your waist, kissing heatedly at your neck as you try to open your door.
You giggle, the wine from dinner making you all loose and happy and eager. You tilt your head to give him more of your throat, and he eagerly takes the opportunity to introduce teeth and tongue as he kisses the line of your neck. You fumble with the key, clumsy as your body heats up.
When you finally manage to turn the key and get the stupid door open, Ben grabs you by the hips and spins you around so that he can pull you into a proper kiss. The guy might have been a dull conversationalist, but you’re delighted to find that he’s a good kisser.
The two of you stumble through the door, your arms locked around his neck as he holds you by the waist. It’s a little embarrassing how eager you are for a guy that you really aren’t even all that into, but you guess that’s just where desperation has gotten you.
“Shit,” Ben hisses when you nip at his lip. “Fuck, you’re so hot. C’mere, take this off.”
He starts tugging at your coat, and you pull back just enough to shrug it off, letting it drop to the floor. He lets out a throaty sound of appreciation, before grabbing at your waist again and leaning in to trail another set of hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.
You tilt your head back, thunking lightly against the wall, and your eyelids flutter at the nipping kisses along your sensitive skin.
“Oh, god…” You breathe, blinking your eyes open again.
But then… you pause. For the first time, you notice that the lights in your entryway are on. Why are they on? You hadn’t turned them on when you came in, and you know that they weren’t on when you had left.
Ben is still groping eagerly at your hips, one hand reaching around to squeeze at your ass, but now you’re distracted, on alert. Your eyes dart around, and fall on a pair of Adidas Superstars set neatly by the front door, and a big puffer coat that’s been hung up on the hook in the hall.
Oh no. No fucking way.
As if to confirm the path your thoughts had just taken, your eyes catch on a figure in the doorway to the living room, leaning casually against the doorframe. Just watching.
A scream catches in your throat, and you grab Ben by the shoulders in an attempt to stop him. He doesn’t seem to understand, because he just keeps squeezing at your ass, pulling your hips closer so that he can slot between your legs and grind against you.
The brief spark of arousal that shoots through you when he grinds his hard-on into the seam of your cunt through your underwear is significantly dampened by the awareness that someone is already in your home, watching you, and you already know who it is.
“Hey, baby,” Kyle fucking Garrick says, lifting a mug patterned with little cartoon cats to his mouth. “Had a nice night out?”
“Jesus Christ–” You hiss, shoving at Ben’s chest. This time, the push isn’t needed, because Ben has rocketed up straight at the sound of another man’s voice in your house calling you ‘baby’.
“What the–” Ben starts to say, his brow furrowing into a bewildered frown when he catches sight of Gaz standing in the doorway watching you.
“Kyle, what are you doing here?” You snap, mortified. You grab at the bottom of your short little dress, pulling roughly at it to try and make sure you’re not flashing anyone.
Gaz watches you, amusement shining in his dark eyes. He’s not even trying to hide the way his gaze is drawn to your legs, lingering where your dress has ridden up your thighs. He sips his tea, a poor attempt at concealing his smirk.
“Home from deployment earlier than expected, love.” He says, calm and casual as if he hasn’t just broken into your goddamn house to destroy any hope you had of getting railed that night. “No time to find accommodation. You don’t mind, eh?”
Ben’s head is swinging between the two of you, his expression blank as he tries to work out just what exactly is happening. He’s straightened up entirely, the presence of Gaz obviously putting him on edge. You can’t blame him for his confusion; Gaz is currently looking at you like he wants to fucking eat you alive, and you’re beginning to get hot and flustered under his stare.
“Are you–” Ben starts, his head still on a swivel as though he can’t decide who to address. “I’m sorry, who is this?”
Gaz doesn’t even bother to reply at once. He sips at his tea, and tilts his head as he lets his eyes wander over Ben lazily. It doesn’t seem like he’s all too impressed by what he sees, though he’s smirking as though he’s amused.
“Sergeant Kyle Garrick.” He says at last, with a nod.
You huff. You know what he’s doing – he never introduces himself by his rank unless he’s trying to make a point.
Ben goes stiff. He’s still pressed against you, and you can feel every ounce of tension down the line of your body. It seems like he’s just now clocking Gaz as a proper threat, and you take a breath as you realise that he’s about to split and leave you here.
And sure enough–
“I– Listen, I don’t know what’s.. what’s going on here, but I don’t want any trouble.” Ben says, finally pushing himself away from you. He’s holding his hands up by his shoulders as though he’s being held at gunpoint, and you roll your eyes impatiently at his dramatics.
“No trouble, mate.” Gaz says, his voice still cheerfully amiable. “Door’s behind you.”
“Gaz–” You hiss, incensed, but it’s pointless.
Ben is already scrambling to open the door, heedless of the way you grasp onto his coat in protest. You sigh heavily as he tumbles out into the cold night, and the door slams shut behind him so loud it makes your head hurt.
You stand alone in your entryway, shivering a little in your tiny black dress and heels from the icy breeze that was let in from Ben’s escape. Your jaw is clenched tight, and you take a deep, deep breath as you turn to face your ex-boyfriend.
Gaz is still watching you, his deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath his long dark lashes. You try hard to ignore his expression, which is unmistakably hungry.
“You look good, baby.” He says, staring pointedly at the way your breasts are all pushed up in your tight dress.
“Don’t call me that.” You grumble, teaching down to unbuckle your delicate heels. You cast them aside and kick them over so they’re laying beside Gaz’s runners.
Gaz just snickers, turning to follow after you when you march your way to the kitchen. Irritation is burning hot in your veins, your lips pursed as you struggle to bite your tongue. It’s so fucking typical that the exact night you try to have some cheap, meaningless sex with some stranger, Gaz has decided to land right into your home. It’s like he has a fucking radar for when you’re about to get laid.
“You could have gotten a hotel.” You snap over your shoulder as you make your way to the kettle. It’s already hot, but you flick the switch again anyway.
“Nah. They’re all booked out. Busy season, you know.”
God, he’s so full of shit. You both know he never even considered staying anywhere other than with you, just like the last few times.
Still, you persevere.
“You could have stayed with one of the guys.” You say, turning around and folding your arms over your chest.
Gaz glances down, and you realise that you’ve inadvertently pushed your breasts together and up. You hastily drop your arms again, and settle instead for planting your hands on your hips.
“Could have,” He admits, leaning against your kitchen table in a way that’s infuriatingly casual. “But they never offered.”
“Neither did I–!”
Gaz doesn’t even seem to hear you. He just steps towards you, reaching to grab an empty mug from the cupboard above your head. The movement brings him so close to you, close enough that your next inhale is scented with his fresh-sweet cologne, the one you always loved, and you find your eyelids fluttering as your muscles relax without your permission. He smells so familiar, so comforting. You hate it.
“Go get changed,” He murmurs, keeping his voice low like he knows the moment is delicate. “We’ll watch a movie.”
You’d love to get fired up, to shove him or curse at him, but it’s all you can do to find the strength to step away from him instead of melting into him. You’re pretty sure he deserves an ass-kicking for this stunt of this, but you decide to pick your battles. Or at least, to postpone them.
You waver another moment, debating over whether you should try to get the last say, but Gaz has already turned away to continue making the cup of tea that you had started. Recognising that the moment has passed, you huff a sigh and march out of the kitchen, making your way to your bedroom.
It takes quite a bit of wiggling to get out your dress – it might look good, but there’s an inordinate sense of relief when you finally tug it over your head and feel as though you can breathe unimpeded again. You unclip your bra and toss it aside, rolling your shoulders and sighing as your breasts are freed.
Once you're dressed again in a worn-out massive t-shirt that drowns your body and some loose sweatpants, looking decidedly unsexy, you pad to your bathroom and start washing your makeup off. Now that you’re alone, that disappointment and frustration is settling in properly. Ben might have been boring, but if his kissing was anything to judge by, you might actually have had a perfectly enjoyable night with him.
Bare-faced and dressed for lounging in bed, you trudge back downstairs to your ex-boyfriend. It’s far from the way you wanted to end your night, but you’ve resigned yourself to your fate. You can hear the muffled sounds from the television as you make your way downstairs, and you redirect yourself towards your small sitting room.
Gaz is sat sprawled on the couch, his legs spread wide as he makes himself comfortable in your home. Something twists in your stomach at how comfy he looks, as though he belongs there. He looks around when you walk in, though your footsteps are quiet and muffled by your fluffy socks.
You look far from sexy right now in your ugly old loungewear and bare face, but Gaz brightens up at the sight of you.
“There she is.” He crows, though there’s something soft in his gaze that you can hardly face. “C’mon, love. Want to pick what we’re watching?”
You just look at him tiredly. He’s as handsome as ever; the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. He must have come straight here once he’d gotten back from deployment because his eyes are dark and exhausted and stubble is a little more overgrown than usual. You hate that he’s able to come into your space like this so easily – like he’s never left.
“Gaz–” You start to say, but you’re cut off when he reaches for your hand.
He tugs you towards him, and you put a knee hastily up on the couch to prevent yourself from falling flat into his lap.
“Shhh, c’mon. Just sit with me.” He murmurs, looking up at you with those damn pretty eyes.
You waver, but then you turn your head to the side and catch sight of the second cup of tea sitting on the coffee table. Gaz has made it just how you like it, and in your favourite mug too. You crumble almost instantly.
“Stick to your side of the couch.” You grumble, before dropping yourself down heavily onto the sofa next to him.
Gaz hums, and you can already tell that he has no intention of following that order. His arm is already sprawled over the back of the couch; it’s not touching you, but you have no doubt that he’ll try to before the end of the night.
He sticks on some stupid movie on Netflix. You don’t pay attention. It’s a rom-com, which is typical. He always pretends he chooses the sappy romantic films for your benefit, but you’re not fooled. You see the way he watches them with avid interest, the way his toes curl in his socks when the big love confession scene comes on screen. It’s always been something that you’re impossibly fond of.
The two of you are silent for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. Part of you wishes that it was awkward – it would be easier, you think. But he makes it so simple, sitting with him like this as the cheesy film plays in the background. You’re still a little tipsy from the drinks you’d had at dinner, and you melt into the couch beside him a little quicker than you think you would have otherwise.
“You ruined my night, you know.” You say at last, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.
To your surprise, he’s already looking at you. You glance away hastily again, not wanting to make eye contact.
“Nah,” He says, and you feel his arm dip down a little. He’s cupping your shoulders now, and you should probably move away, but you don’t. “If anything, I saved you from having a long, disappointing night with some tosser you agreed to pity-date. He didn’t exactly look like your type, darling.”
“He was a perfectly nice guy.” You bite out, crossing your arms defensively over your belly in your big t-shirt.
“Nice guys don’t end the first date by groping your ass and humping you up against your wall in your own house.” He says, and if you’re not mistaken you’d say he sounds a little bitter.
You cast a sideways glance at him. He’s sitting up, watching you closely and leaning just slightly towards you. He’s so intense about the way he’s looking at you, his arm dipping low so that he’s holding you properly.
“Stop it.” You say. It hardly even sounds like a proper protest. You’re so tired, still a little floaty from the wine you’d had at dinner, and desperately disappointed by the lack of sexual satisfaction you had been hoping for.
There’s a pause, and then Gaz gives a small shrug. He pulls his arm back to give you space, but he still has that stupid smirk on his face. You can’t even be angry about the cockiness of his expression when his eyes are that soft though.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs. “I’m not being fair, am I?”
“No,” You say petulantly. “You’re not.”
He huffs a noise that’s almost a laugh, only he manages to stifle it so that it comes out as a cough instead.
“Mm. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin your big date night, especially when you got done up so pretty for it,” He murmurs, his voice low and sweet as honey trickling down your spine. “Let me make up for it. Come on, get over here.”
You hesitate, but Gaz isn’t really giving you an option. He begins to shift, one of his strong muscled arms looping around your waist as he pulls you into him. It takes you a long moment to realise what it is that he’s trying to do. He lays back on the couch and pulls you with him, encouraging you to pull your legs up onto the sofa so that the two of you are laying on your sides, with Gaz spooned up against your back.
It’s definitely a bad idea to cuddle with him on the couch like this. You’re trying to set boundaries, to make it clear that you’re just friends (if you can even call it that) after your breakup. And yet… you don’t offer any sort of protest at all.
“Relax,” Gaz sighs from behind you, and you feel his nose nuzzle against the back of your neck. “You love cuddling.”
You roll your eyes, turning your head slightly so he can see the unimpressed expression on your face.
“This isn’t enough to make up for being such a dick.” You grumble. Despite your griping, you don’t actually make any attempt to get out of his arms.
He was right, after all. You do love cuddling. It was your favourite thing to do when you were together.
But you’re not together anymore, and it’s hard to ignore the gnawing guilt that you’re letting this grow into something that should be avoided instead of nipping it in the bud. You and Gaz had broken up months ago, and it was a perfectly amicable split. You can’t even say that he was at fault for any of it; the strain of the long distance part of your relationship while he was on deployment just grew too much for you, the space his absence left filling with brambled loneliness that pricked incessantly at you. You had known what you were getting into with this relationship with him, and yet when it came down to it you got too greedy, wanting more of him than he was able to give.
Tonight was a moment of weakness for you, and though your hopes for sex may have been thwarted, you can’t turn down the soft familiar intimacy of Gaz’s strong body cradling you close against him.
Maybe it’s the wine you had at dinner, but you find your muscles relaxing a little as one of Gaz’s arms loops around your waist, his big hand coming to rest across your belly.
“Mm. I’m being selfish, love.” He murmurs, and you fight a shiver as his warm breath ghosts over the delicate shell of your ear. “This is more for me than for you.”
You’re not altogether sure that’s true. It’s certainly doing an awful lot for you right now. Gaz is in just a t-shirt, the muscles of his biceps bunching up under his bare skin as he tries to subtly nudge you closer to him.
You’ve missed being all wrapped up in the warm embrace of him; he cuddles with his whole body, the front of his thighs all pressed against the back of yours, his strong chest moulding to your back as his face nuzzles against the back of your neck. You always feel so safe when he holds you like this, like he’s blocking out the rest of the world for you. You can only guess he feels the same – he holds you that much tighter every time he gets back home from his missions.
You grumble quietly, but soon settle down. The repetitive stroking motion of his thumb over your hip is more soothing than it should be. You take deep breaths, trying to be subtle about it, because all you can smell is Gaz and his citrusy sweet aftershave and you just want to drown in it.
“You can’t keep doing this.” You mumble, though all the fight has gone out of you. “It’s not… helpful.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then Gaz shifts behind you. His arm tightens around your waist almost imperceptibly, as though he thinks you’re going to push him away. But you’re being selfish now too, comfortably wrapped up against his chest.
“We said we’d stay friends,” He says at last, and he’s so close that you can feel his lips move against the back of your neck as he speaks. “Nothin’ wrong with some platonic cuddling. You should see how close me an’ Soap have had to cuddle to conserve heat when we’re out on the field.”
You huff a small laugh, which is obviously what he had been hoping for. Platonic cuddling. This certainly doesn’t feel platonic, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. You’ve been craving this kind of closeness for months now, so you just let yourself reluctantly enjoy it. It would have been so much easier if you were able to enjoy it with Ben, with someone who meant nothing to you and wouldn’t have brought with him such a complicated web of feelings and history, but there’s a real sense of comfort in the familiarity of Gaz’s presence.
The film Gaz had chosen to stick on is a stupid one. It’s half action, half love story, with a strong rugged hero and a too-beautiful love-interest whose main role seems to be throwing out quips for comedic relief. You’ve seen a hundred versions of this plot play out in other films, though Gaz is predictably glued to the screen. He’s always loved these stupid films.
You’re comfortable enough that you fall into a light doze, uninterested in the television as you relish the heat from Gaz’s chest. He’s like a fucking human radiator, so hot that you can feel a thin dew of sweat begin to break out along your spine. It chases away the chill of the night and makes you so sleepy.
You’re almost asleep when movement from behind you jolts you back to wakefulness. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve imagined it. Then Gaz moves again, and this time it’s unmistakable.
Gaz is hard, the thick ridge of him impossible to miss as he presses against your ass. You’re awake instantly, the slight tipsiness from dinner vanishing into thin air. You’re on high alert, eyes darting back to the television to see what the fuck has aroused him, but there’s nothing of note happening onscreen. It’s just a conversation between characters, exposition setting up the next stage of the plot.
“Gaz,” You say, and your voice comes out louder than you had intended. “Stop humping my ass.”
You’re half-expecting him to deny it, but he just huffs a quiet snort, his nose nuzzling against the back of your neck.
“Sorry, love.” He says, though he doesn’t sound sorry in the least. “Can’t help it. Missed you loads.”
You can feel his cock even through the layers of your clothing, and you swallow hard. God, you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him, though it doesn’t seem like the right time to admit it. How are you ever supposed to get over each other if he keeps coming to stay with you every time he gets back from wherever in God’s name he’s been, when he holds you so sweetly and talks to you like you’re still his girl?
His hips rock into you in a movement that’s almost imperceptible, except you’re waiting for it. His hands are gripping your waist, his fingers curling into the soft flesh there. He’s always enjoyed the way your body yields to him, so much softer than the hard planes of muscle that make up his own, and it’s no surprise that he goes straight back to holding onto his favourite parts of you even as he ruts against your ass.
“Jesus, Gaz–” You start to complain, but your voice is a little too breathy to be convincingly angry.
“Stop that,” He murmurs, his lips pressing against the side of your neck. “You never call me that.”
That is true – after the breakup, calling him Kyle just seemed too intimate. It’s a name that usually falls from your lips with care, in soft whispers made for dark rooms and quiet moments. His callsign offers distance, reminds you both that what you had is in the past. Or that it should be in the past, at least.
“Kyle,” You concede tiredly. “You dickhead.”
He just hums. He knows you well enough to know that you’re not really angry; you’re not even attempting to move away from him, though you know you should. The film is mostly forgotten in the background, though you’re vaguely aware that the two characters onscreen have now progressed to confessing their love before the big final battle. You just sigh; this little romantic film moment is only going to encourage Gaz even more.
Yet still, you don’t move.
The way he’s grinding his thick cock against the swell of your ass is making your blood run hot. The pressure every time his hips roll lightly against you and the way that he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back against him is making your brain all stupid and fuzzy. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way you shift, the way you allow your bum to brush back against him. It earns you a soft little grunt that’s mostly muffled by the way he’s mouthing at your throat.
Oh, it would be so easy to slip the sweatpants that separates the two of you down, to allow him to slide into you. A little woozily, you think it would feel like he was coming home.
But to actually have sex feels like too much of a commitment, too confusing a step to take when things between you two were already muddled and confused enough. You’re almost afraid to even turn around to glance over your shoulder at him, as though making eye contact might mean you’ll both wake up and stop.
Gaz’s cock has gotten even harder, filling out thickly as he slots against the clothed groove of your ass. He’s not even touching your pussy, and yet your knickers are slick and sticky. It’s embarrassing at your age to be laying on the couch, watching a movie and getting dry-humped like a fucking teenager, and yet your skin feels as though it’s been lit aflame.
Then rustling fabric breaks the silence, and Gaz shifts a little behind you in an odd motion as the insistent pressure on your ass is finally relieved. In its absence, you’re almost disappointed.
You tilt your head, just barely turning it, just enough to see that he’s just pulled out his cock.
“Kyle–”
“Sorry, baby,” He says again, panting against the side of your neck and making you shiver. “– ‘m just too hard, getting uncomfortable. Ignore it.”
Ignore it? You think, a little hysterically. The gentle rocking of his erection into your ass was one thing, but how the fuck are you supposed to ignore the fact that your ex is all pressed up against you, still holding you by the waist with one hand as the other fists at his cock.
You glance behind you and down before you can help yourself, your self-control as lacking as ever. Fuck. You’ve missed the sight of that. He has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, even if right now it’s flushed dark and angry and painful looking. Your mouth waters. He was obviously telling the truth when he said it was getting sore, and you feel a reluctant swell of sympathy.
“Been thinking of you for months, baby.” He murmurs, placing a wet, messy kiss on your throat. “I can’t even fucking cum properly when you’re not around, it’s not the fucking same. God, even missed the way you smell–”
As if to punctuate that, he presses his nose in your hair and inhales deeply. You know you smell like the sweet perfume you had sprayed earlier, your favourite one. You know from experience that it’s also Gaz’s favourite one. You tell yourself it’s a coincidence.
“Why didn’t you fuck someone else then? Get it out of your system?” You say, and it comes out a little harsh, a little raw. It reveals more than you want to; you feel a little ill at the thought of Gaz with some faceless girl, holding her and making her laugh, her hands touching him like you do.
If Gaz picks up on the bite in your voice, he’s kind enough to ignore it. He just huffs a quick snort like the suggestion is ridiculous, his sloppy mouthing at your neck turning into a chaste affectionate kiss that feels totally at odds with the desperate motions of his hand pumping at his cock.
“Why would I do that when I had a girl waiting for me at home?” He asks, his voice so soft with you. “Never wanted anyone else.”
Your toes curl, guilt coiling in your stomach. You hate that you feel pleased that he’s waited for you, that he doesn’t want anyone else. You’re not being fair – it had been you who had broken it off, after all. He should be able to get with whoever he wants to. Conceivably, he is allowed to. Yet you can’t pretend that you wouldn’t have been sick to your stomach if he admitted that he had.
God, you feel like such a hypocrite. Here you are, admittedly all too happy that Gaz has stayed faithful to a relationship that isn’t even intact anymore, and there he is, having just witnessed you come home with a stranger’s hands all over you.
“We’re not together anymore.” You whisper, when what you want to say is I’m sorry.
“I know.” Gaz replies, and it sounds like For now.
It’s not a surprise when the hand on your waist slips around to your belly, and then lower again as it slips beneath the waistband of your bottoms. You try and fail to suppress the wet gasp that’s pulled from your throat when his long fingers coast over the front of your knickers, finding your clothed clit with unerring accuracy.
“Oh, lace, baby?” He says, his breath catching in his eagerness before realisation seems to set in. “Oh. This was for your little date, eh?”
The guilt again, gnawing in your chest. You arch your back, simultaneously shying away and crowding your ass back up against him. It’s mortifying, being caught with your fancy underwear beneath your baggy unflattering sweatpants by your ex-boyfriend and having him know without a shadow of a doubt that you intended them to be seen by someone else.
“I was–” You start to say breathily, but Gaz doesn’t let you finish.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” He murmurs, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. “I know, I know. But he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you. Jesus, he didn’t even know what he fuckin’ had, ran like a coward–”
“Gaz–” You try again. You can’t help but feel as though you need to explain yourself, like the two of you should talk this through.
“You’re so soft, Jesus Christ.” He mutters, the side of his hand rubbing at the squishy flesh of your thighs as he strokes at your clit. “Were you always this soft?”
It sounds as though he’s trying to remember, desperate and wanting. You swallow thickly, closing your eyes as that familiar pleasure licks up your spine. He knows you so well, knows every part of you and exactly how to touch you, and you can hardly believe you ever entertained letting anyone else put their hands on you.
“I got a new body oil.” You breathe, distracted by his touch. “It’s– it’s vanilla scented.”
“Yeah,” He groans, and you shiver helplessly when you feel his tongue on your neck, licking a hot stripe up to your earlobe. “I can smell it.”
His index and middle fingers are so firm on either side of your clit, rolling circles around it without actually touching you properly. You sigh, back arching, but before you can actually enjoy it his hands are pulling away.
“Wait–” You gasp, your body crying out in protest as Gaz stops, pulling his hand back out of your pants.
Gaz just grunts, kisses your neck once more, then tugs your sweatpants down. You lift your hips up immediately, thoughtlessly, and then kick your sweats and knickers off impatiently. It’s a little embarrassing, especially when the cool air hits your slick, sticky thighs and you shiver.
“Oh god, fuck,” He groans, his plush lips dragging along the sensitive skin at the back of your neck. “You’ve ruined yourself, baby.”
It’s embarrassing to admit it, but it’s true. The dry spell you’ve experienced since the breakup has been little more than a mild inconvenience for the most part, but now it feels like your body is charged like a live wire. It feels like you’ve never been touched before, and you squirm backwards in an attempt to get any kind of friction again.
“Kyle–” You start to complain, but you don’t get to finish because then Gaz is slotting his cock in between your thighs.
He groans, taking a breath as he shuffles his hips closer. His pretty, glistening cock is wedged between the soft pudge of your thighs, the head of it nudging against the wet folds of your cunt every time he twitches.
“Let me put the tip in, baby.” He says, his voice gruff and wanting in your ear. “Literally just the tip, that’s it, huh? It’s not like actual fucking, right?”
In this moment, you think you’d agree to anything to get his dick into you. You had been all kinds of wound up even before you had come home to find Gaz waiting for you, but it’s like your body had some kind of Pavlovian response to Gaz’s touch because now you’re practically panting for him.
He’s right, after all. It’s not really fucking. It means that you can maintain the flimsy thin pretence that this means nothing.
“Okay.” You manage to say, though it comes out humiliatingly breathy. “Yeah, okay, the tip–”
Gaz’s cock is pressing into you before you can even finish your sentence, bullying into the wet grasping tightness of your cunt and making you gasp.
You’ve gone long enough without getting laid that there’s a slight sting as he presses into you, but it’s overshadowed by the breathless relief. God, you’d forgotten how fucking good his dick felt inside you. He knows just how to use it too, and you wheeze slightly as he rocks an inch inside before pulling back again.
“Oh, fuck, baby.” Gaz moans throatily, the vibration of it rumbling right down your spine. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”
“Mph,” You manage to make a muffled sort of sound against the couch cushion your face is pressed against, your mouth hanging softly open as you pant for breath.
True to his word, Gaz just presses the first inch or so inside. You almost hold your breath, waiting for the rest to slide inside and split you open, but he doesn’t. He just rocks back and forth, just missing hitting the spot inside that makes your nerves sing.
You wish, stupidly, fervently, that just this once Gaz would go back on his word. That he’d abandon his promise to just stick that first inch of his cock inside, that he’d slam home and stretch you wide and let his cock brush against the nerves just a little deeper inside you. But that’s not Gaz’s style; you know he’s not going to give you any more unless you beg for it.
Gaz rocks his hips in teeny tiny movements, just enough to have you squirming in frustration. You’re so wet that you know he could slide deeper with ease if he only just tilted his hips right, but he remains doggedly steadfast in pumping just the barest inch into you, groaning with the effort it’s taking to stop himself plunging fully inside.
“Oh god,” He breathes, sounding wrecked in your ear. “You feel even better than I remember.”
You don’t know how he can even say that when he’s barely even inside you, but no matter how much you wiggle and squirm, he just won’t slide any deeper.
“You’re such an asshole.” You slur out against the fabric of the couch, your cheek squished against the cushions. Your chin is a little wet – are you drooling?
Infuriatingly, Gaz doesn’t even argue.
“Mm.” He grunts, kissing the curve of your neck. “What’d I do this time?”
The fact that he has the gall to ask only irritates you further. You let out a quiet, grumbling noise, but his hand grips at your hip and stops you from writhing.
“Just… just put the rest of it in.” You say, craning your neck to try and look at him.
Your eyes are wide and wet, pathetically teary. You’ve been craving intimacy like this for weeks now. Maybe longer, if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s the kind of pleasure you’ve only ever gotten from Gaz, and you wheeze as your body opens up under his touch. God, you don’t know how you thought anyone would ever be able to fuck you like Gaz does.
“Mm, you sure, baby?” He murmurs, nosing against the back of your skull. “Thought we were just cuddling.”
“Don’t be a dick.” You snap, your patience reaching the end of its tether.
He just laughs, a breathless sort of amused gasp, before snapping his hips forward in one sharp movement and seating his cock inside you. Though it’s what you had been demanding, the abruptness of it startles you and you yowl, your back arching.
“Sh, sh, shh, sorry, love.” Gaz pants, before sighing in wordless contentment as his broad chest curves around your back, his strong arm looping around your belly. “Oh, fuck. Missed this so much, you have no idea. I swear you were made for me, I couldn’t fit as well inside anyone else.”
“Just– just move.” You whine, a little plaintive. It’s humiliating how desperate you are, but there’s no turning back now. “Please, Kyle–”
Gaz pitches into movement instantly, as though he’s got something to prove. Or maybe he’s just worried that you’re going to change your mind. His hips pull back then snap forward again, and again.
He’s so strong, his rhythm steady enough to rock you wildly back and forth on the lumpy couch cushions. You clutch at the fabric beneath you, gasping as his arm pulls you back and keeps you pinned against his hot, hard chest.
“Oh.” You breathe, tilting your head back with a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into you from behind, the two of you plastered together like sardines in the tiny can that is your sitting room couch.
This is just what you needed, you think a little wildly. God, you’ve been craving physical touch like this for months, since the last time you had seen Gaz. It’s galling to admit that any other man is a poor substitute, unable to fill the void that your ex-boyfriend has left in your life.
“Kyle,” You whine, searching for something. You don’t even know what you’re asking for, but Gaz is as patient with you as ever.
He just hums, leaning in over your shoulder and pressing hot, hungry kisses along your jawline where it’s exposed as you lean your head back. The arm that’s been wrapped around your belly coasts lower, until his big lovely hand is pressed against your cunt. His fingers search for your clit and find it easily, confident and familiar enough with your body that he barely even has to try to make you feel good.
Gaz coos soothingly at you and rolls your clit between his fingers as his thrusts begin to come faster and harder; he builds up a steady rhythm, one that lets him sink as deep inside of you as possible and quickly renders you speechless. The living room is soon filled with wet slapping sounds from where Gaz is pounding into you from behind, the grunts and pants and moans that both of you make rapidly drowning out the stupid action sequence playing out on the television from the long forgotten film.
Unbelievably, you feel a sweet stirring in your lower belly already. It’s with a sense of tired resignation that you acknowledge you’re going to come on Gaz’s dick, despite your original intentions for the evening. Typical.
But he’s not going to last either, judging by the strained moans in your ear.
“Shit,” He curses, and then his teeth sink into the side of your neck. You shudder, the feeling of him sucking a harsh hickey into your throat sending electric sparks racing through your nerves.
You think, judging from the desperate edge to Gaz’s humping into you from behind, that Gaz has been yearning in your absence in the same way you have for him. You’re biting on your lip hard in an effort to stifle the plaintive, wanting little moans that are threatening to spill over, but your attempts at quieting yourself are mostly unsuccessful. It makes you feel a little crazy, but Gaz doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, the evidence that you want him too only seems to encourage him.
Your eyes are half-closed as you fuck your hips back on Gaz’s cock, relishing the satisfied little cries he’s emitting into the back of your neck. You clutch clumsily at the strong arm he has wrapped around your belly, crying out yourself as the head of his cock hits that one spot inside you that makes you feel gooey inside. Your toes curl as your head tips back, your skull neatly cradled in the space between Gaz’s head and the couch cushions as he peppers kisses along the side of your neck.
The wet slapping of your bodies colliding is obscene in the quiet of the room; the stupid film still playing does nothing to drown it out. Your body is as limp and relaxed as a doll, allowing him to fuck into you from behind in a frenzy. Right now, you can’t even recall why you ever would have tried to deny yourself this pleasure in the first place.
His hips clap against your ass, those wet sounds getting even louder and more obscene than ever. Gaz is viscerally pleased with the way your ass bounces every time he fucks into you, because he moans and picks up the pace as if he just wants to watch your glutes jiggle every time his hips slap against you.
That familiar ball of tension starts tightening in your abdomen, your body winding up for a long-awaited and much needed release. It’s so typical that this orgasm feels like it’s going to be a big one too, as though your body needed Gaz to be there to guide you through it in order to achieve proper satisfaction.
But then, in a move so infuriating you almost burst into tears, Gaz pulls out and leaves you high and dry.
“No!” You blurt, and it comes out almost as a wail. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, baby.” Gaz says a little breathlessly. “Need you to turn over. Want to see you.”
As soon as you realise that he’s not trying to stop and that he’s just trying to reposition you, you’re quick to roll over so that you’re facing him. It seems like that’s exactly what he wanted, because he grins wide and reaches for your hips, eagerly pulling you closer.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He mumbles, his eyes like warm caramelised honey as they track over your face.
You’re pretty sure he’s full of shit; you’re panting like you’ve run a marathon, you’re sweaty, your hair is dishevelled, and you’re still wearing the ugly sweatshirt you had put on earlier. Yet, even still, Gaz’s genuine little compliment has your heart flipping in your ribcage.
You can’t help but think that you and Gaz are like feral little animals right now. You can barely keep your hands off each other; now that you’ve rolled over to face him, his hands are roaming over your hips and ass like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you by touch alone.
Embarrassingly, you’re no better – you lunge forward to kiss him, taking advantage of your new position, and he kisses you back hungrily.
Lying sideways on the couch like this is cramped, but Gaz uses his hand on your ass to tug you closer. Then he reaches down, long fingers gripping at your thigh before he pulls it up so that your leg is hitched over his hip.
Oh no, You barely have time to think it before his cock is pressing into you again, the slide made easy this time. Too intimate!
The panicked thought is swiftly dispelled the moment Gaz starts moving again, because goddamn this position is so much better. It’s almost difficult to tell where Gaz ends and you begin, so intertwined are your bodies. Gaz barely even allows for an inch of space. He fucks into you almost as soon as he’s pulled back, making for a fast, frantic pace that barely even gives you a chance to breathe.
You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you rock your hips mindlessly into his rough, almost animalistic thrusts. Your leg hitched over his hip means that he’s grinding into you deep, deeper than you thought was possible.
The way the two of you are fucking feels a little bit unhinged, rutting and humping your bodies together in search of mutual pleasure. It should be clumsy and graceless, yet somehow it feels good, as though your body remembers exactly how good Gaz has always treated you, as though your whole being is having a Pavlovian response to his touch. Pleasure burns in your gut, tight and hot, and you moan stupidly as Gaz pounds into you.
“Oh god.” You say without meaning to. The sound of your voice shocks you; you sound wrecked, as though you’ve been fucking for hours. It would have been embarrassing to reveal just how affected you were if Gaz wasn’t also clearly just as eager for it.
“Yeah,” He says, a hybrid of a groan and a gasp muffled against your lips as he clutches at your ass and drives into you wildly. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
You are too, you realise wildly. You’re struck by how quickly you’ve both gotten to this point. This whole encounter has been frenzied and feverish, as though the poorly stifled desire between you had turned explosive.
Gaz kisses you again, and his teeth clack against yours slightly as he licks into your mouth. It’s messy and wet, and it sends a delicious throb of pleasure shooting through your belly. He’s acting so possessive that it’s making your head spin. It should definitely be sending warning bells ringing in your head, or red alarms flashing in your minds eye – it can’t be a good thing that your ex-boyfriend is currently fucking you on your couch like he’s trying to claim you. But you’re apparently a little stupid and very weak, and Gaz has always known how to fuck you dopey and thoughtless. Instead of worry, you get the edges of an orgasm beginning to fizz in your peripheral awareness.
Your pussy must flutter or tighten around him as that lovely sweet promise of release edges closer, because Gaz moans in anticipation and his eager thrusts take on an edge of purpose. You almost protest when he breaks off the kiss, but then you realise that he just wants to be able to focus on keeping his rhythm steady. It’s frenzied and hot, and you swear the air itself is crackling as he kisses sloppily at your neck and fucks you hard.
“Love you,” He slurs in your ear, breathless. “Love you so much, baby.”
His thrusts turn more shallow and far more forceful the closer he gets. Little moans and whines escape his lips between kisses, the sounds ratcheting up in intensity as the two of you rut together.
“Tell me you love me,” He pleads, “Please— tell me you fuckin’ love me, baby. I know you do. I know you—”
You shouldn’t say it. You can’t say it. Yet his cock is fucking you sloppy and stupid, and your mouth moves before you even register that you’re speaking.
“Love you too,” You whimper like a pathetic little idiot, revelling in the exquisite feeling of him grinding against your g-spot just right. It feels so good, you know you’re so, so close to orgasm.
The ache in your abdomen persists— you clench tightly around his cock, your body straining as the muscles in your core clench, trying so hard to push yourself closer to the orgasm you know is coming. You’re so close, so so close— it burns, aches, drives you mad. All you can do is mewl, wrapping your arms around his muscled shoulders as he pounds into you despite the awkward angle.
You can feel your clit throbbing, pulsing, your entire body trying so goddamn hard to climax that you feel like you’re about to cry. You’re burning beneath your skin and all you want to do is gnash your teeth into the elegant line of Gaz’s throat, to leave some kind of indelible mark on his lovely smooth skin.
“Please, please, please— yes, fuck— oh, Kyle,” Your words come out on the breath of an uneven gasp, stuttering with each movement of his hips, perfectly synchronized.
His voice is low and hot in your ear as he pants, “Let me come inside you, baby— let me, please— fuck.”
You should say no. Every logical part of you knows that you should tell him to pull out, and yet the wires are crossed when it comes to your actual response. Your leg tightens around his waist, heart seizing in protest at the idea of him pulling out.
“Yes.” You gasp, continuing your streak of impulsive decision-making. Your own hips twitch forward in weak little humps in an effort to fuck yourself onto his cock, your clit grinding against the dark curls at his pubic bone. “Yes, inside, please–”
Your breathy, eager permission seems to give him a burst of energy. He picks up the pace, his body curving into you as his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. It feels as though your entire world has been narrowed down to Gaz, his broad shoulders blocking out your view of the rest of the room. You cling to him, breathless and messy as you whimper like a loser, your body trembling from the toe-curling zings of pleasure that keep shooting up your spine.
“Oh, oh.. Kyle, please–” You practically sob, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders. “Love you, love you, oh my god, I’m gonna come–”
Gaz grunts, obviously eager as his movements grow thoughtful and determined. He knows exactly what you want, what you need at this moment. His abdominal muscles tense and flex with every calculated, deliberate thrust. There is no way to escape the length of him moving hard and thick inside you – not that you want to escape so much as a second of it, of course.
“That’s my girl, always so fucking perfect.” He snarls as your body eagerly takes every dirty roll of his hips, palming at your thigh where it’s hitched over his hip. “Fuckin’ Christ, I’ve been dreaming of your cunt for fucking months, never wanted anything else–”
It makes no sense. Absolutely no sense, that those bizarre, lust-crazed possessive words are what drag you trembling, screaming over the crest of an orgasm so intense the walls of the room white out, each sweeping pulse leaving you unable to do anything but clench and shudder and arch beneath him.
Gaz fucks you like a damn machine; he gives you long, deep strokes over and over as you’re falling apart. Your body seizes around the hot flesh of Gaz’s cock, your mind going white as your cunt spasms, your hole clamping down and pulsing with every desperate, loud moan torn from your mouth.
You feel like a sloppy little slut, your hips jerking towards him instead of away even as your orgasm washes through you and leaves your body tender and oversensitive. It feels so damn good to feel your mind washing blank and clear, not a single thought taking hold.
When the toe-curling height of pleasure subsides, you find your nerves frayed and hyper-sensitive. A plaintive whine breaks out of your throat as Gaz keeps fucking you, beginning to thrust up frantically into your twitching pussy. Your body falls limp as Gaz bounces your pliable, warm body up and down his cock as he groans into your ear.
It’s like the rhythmic tightening of your drooling, creaming cunt has him losing his mind, because he grabs the meat of your hips and begins jerking your limp body back towards him. The slap slap slap! of the impact is so loud that every slap makes your breath catch.
“Fuck. I'm—” Your hands slap clumsily at his shoulders, reaching for anything to hold on to, but he doesn’t stop. "Kyle. Kyle—" It’s just your voice, hoarse, breathless, and Gaz bearing down on you, the sound of your bodies somehow growing sloppier, messier as he fucks you and it’s uncompromising, just skirting the edge of painfully overwhelming—
He breaks, shoulders trembling, head bowed into the curve of your neck as he lets out a long, desperate moan. It’s a drawn out, rough groan that is more sob than pleasure, and then you feel him inside you, spilling red hot and wet. Your own orgasm still isn’t fully finished, rolling leisurely through you in little aftershocks, your body still tightening and shivering, and it goes on and on and on.
He holds on to you throughout, as if he’s worried he’ll blow away into the wind without anchoring himself to you. His hips slow, but don’t fully stop. He rolls his hips into you slowly, leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world as he shivers in his come down. You blink, waiting for the colour to bleed back into your vision and for the ringing in your ears to stop, and for the first time all night you’re not thinking about anything at all.
“Please, Kyle.” You slur out stupidly. You have no idea what you’re even asking for; there’s just some vague, barely formed desperation floating around your painfully blank mind as you search for something.
“Mm.” Gaz hums. It feels like he’s everywhere, his broad chest filling up your sight and enveloping you. His hands roam over your body: the backs of your thighs, squeezing as his hands drift over your ass, up and down your back, your neck, his fingers catching around the thin strands of hair and the back of your neck, until finally he settles his fingers on your cheeks.
His palms stay there, just cupping your cheeks as the two of you struggle to regulate your breathing and regain your composure. That antsy sense of desperation eases a little when he leans in to nuzzle fondly at your face, dropping sweet little kisses along your cheeks and nose.
Gaz’s chest rumbles with a low, lovely laugh, his voice gravelly from his climax. “You’re overflowing, sweetheart.”
You let out a careless little sigh, before relaxing experimentally. You can feel a gush of warm seed begin to ooze out around Gaz’s cock, spilling out of your entrance and coating his balls. You wriggle lazily, cunt still pulsing as your wildly beating heart gradually slows to a lazy flutter.
You think you should probably be panicking now. You’ve just fucked your ex, told him you loved him, then let him come inside. With no condom. God, you’re stupid. But the wave of horror you’re expecting never comes. You feel too floaty to care; you suspect if it was anyone other than Gaz, the mortification would have knocked into you like a sledgehammer.
“You’re gonna get cum on the couch.” You complain, the words coming out clumsy on your tongue.
Gaz just snorts. He makes no effort to pull out, and you have no desire to push him away. The intimacy of your sweat-slick skin pressed together is enough to take your breath away, and it’s only further compounded by the sensation of his cock gradually softening inside you.
“I’ll get it cleaned, love.” He drawls lazily, leaning in to kiss your swollen lips. “Or pay for a new one. Whichever you want.”
When you kiss him back he sighs fondly, one thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You’re still limp in his arms, boneless and spent as you wriggle greedily into his arms. His cock is still lodged inside you, and you’re sure he must be getting uncomfortably sensitive but to your relief he just moans in quiet appreciation when you try to worm your way closer.
“You made a mess.” You mumble against his lips.
You’re being a little unfair, considering your own slick is coating your thighs and Gaz’s lower belly, but Gaz has always rolled with even the most unreasonable attitude you’ve thrown his way. So he just chuckles, and you feel a little insane as you wonder if anyone else would ever be as patient with you.
“Think we both did, doll.” He murmurs fondly. He leans in and catches your lips with his again, kissing you slowly with a lazy, lewdly open mouth. One hand curls against the nape of your neck, the other hand reaching up beneath your sweater and curling possessively against your left tit, sweeping over your sluggish, sated heartbeat.
You feel practically brainless after your orgasm, relaxed and loose in Gaz’s arms. There’s something to be said for how safe you feel with him, as much as you’d like to deny it, but reality is starting to slowly sink in.
You pull away from his mouth to try and collect yourself, unable to think when he’s kissing you like that.
“Fuck.” You breathe, closing your eyes with a sigh. It’s slow, but you’re finally starting to think again. “We shouldn’t– we should have used a condom.”
Gaz’s eyes are lidded with fond amusement as he watches you quietly. His hand kneads at your breast absent-mindedly, as though he’s forgotten that he’s groping at you.
“Don’t overthink it,” He murmurs, kissing your forehead again. “I saw your box of pills in the bathroom. And I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone but you.”
You tremble a little at his admission, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You feel like you’re losing your mind. Gaz is the most beautiful man you’ve ever met, funny and sweet and always so caring. You love him, even if it kills you a little to admit it, and you don’t know how to respond to his admission that he’s been faithful to you during the long months you weren’t together.
Gaz misinterprets whatever expression is on your face, thumb stroking soothingly over your cheek again. “We can get you a morning-after pill, if it’ll make you feel better.”
You don’t bother correcting him. You’re not that fussed over the morning-after pill – you’re careful when it comes to your birth control, and Gaz had always cum inside you when you were together. The weight of his cock inside you is comforting almost, the wet slide of his cum dripping out of you makes you feel as though you’d never been apart in the first place. You wonder how you could ever have been thick enough to think that someone else could fill Gaz’s place in your life.
As if he knows what you’re thinking, Gaz’s lips twitch. “That pillock you brought home would’ve been such a disappointment, darling.”
You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, exasperated.
“You don’t know that.” You grumble, though you don’t pull away. You’re still all curled up against his chest, skin still slick and sticky from rapidly cooling sweat, your leg still slung over Gaz’s hip to keep his now-soft cock nestled inside you.
“Sure I do.” He says, and that cocky arrogance that both drives you mad and makes you swoon is rearing its head. He reaches down, and his thick fingers roll over your much-too-sensitive clit. “She missed me, gorgeous. Don’t think she would have liked some strange tosser pounding away at her with no idea how to please her.”
The way he talks about your pussy as though it has its own thoughts and feelings has you rolling your eyes again, though your cheeks burn with embarrassment. To your immense irritation, you think he might have a point. You haven’t come that hard in months, not since the breakup.
“Oh, shut up.” You sigh tiredly.
He snickers, and then shifts. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s pulling his hips back preparing to pull out. Your brain stalls, and you wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders in protest. You’re not ready to feel the invasive, aching emptiness that will no doubt throb through your core as soon as he’s not filling you up.
“Stay.” You say, and it comes out as an embarrassingly breathy little plea.
Gaz goes practically limp, as though your hoarse request had taken the wind right out of him. You’re not expecting the way he brings both arms around your waist before rolling over onto his back, hauling you up to lay over his chest. His cock remains firmly lodged inside you, though the movement has resulted in his white creamy spend leaking out onto your inner thighs.
“Not going nowhere.” He mumbles, one hand stroking over your flank to soothe you. “I’m on leave for at least a month.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” Gaz hums. He must sense that this is a delicate moment, because he doesn’t make any ribald jokes about having all month to fuck you like you’re expecting him to. He just presses a tender kiss to your temple, his lips lingering gently.
Usually, you’d probably be a little embarrassed by how clingy you’re being. You had been so damn determined not to fall into bed with Gaz after the breakup, but you’re so, so weak. His stupid honey brown eyes and gorgeous dimples and crooked grin is enough to send you to your knees. You rest your forehead against his chest as he holds you close; at least like this, you can’t see his stupid handsome face.
He’s obviously pleased with the way you’re snuggling into him, because his chest rumbles as he hums in satisfaction. He’s holding you tight like he thinks you’re going to slip away the moment he blinks.
“You okay?” He asks quietly.
You don’t answer immediately. There’s no way to brush this under the carpet, or to go back to pretending at detached disinterest. If you had wanted to play this off as just a bit of stress relief, then you should have rolled away from him the second he’d spilled inside of you rather than cuddling with him on the couch. There’s no way that you can claim that this was just a case of needing to get laid; you’re still clutching at him like a limpet, the two of you intertwined so tight that it’s difficult to tell when your limbs end and Gaz’s begin.
“I’m tired.” You sigh eventually, sidestepping the conversation that you know you’ll have to deal with eventually.
No doubt Gaz notices your not particularly subtle avoidance, but he doesn’t comment. He seems quite happy to indulge your every whim; he probably wants to avoid the this-was-a-mistake-and-we-need-to-maintain-boundaries conversation even more than you do.
“Let’s get you to bed then,” He murmurs, and then he surprises you by sitting up. You’re still laid out across his chest, which means that when he shimmies up into a sitting position, you end up sitting sprawled in his lap.
You’re still speared a little awkwardly on his soft cock, the sensation of him inside you making your eyelids flutter a little. You feel satisfied, your muscles still watery and weak, and you sigh a little mournfully when Gaz finally pulls his cock out of you. You ache, a deep throb that both stokes and settles you. It’s like a comfortable little reminder that Gaz was here, and that he left his mark on you.
You can feel the way he leans back just to get a glimpse of his spend trickling down the inside of your thigh. You pout and bury your face into his throat, your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders still as you try to hide your sudden self-consciousness.
But Gaz isn’t interested in giving you a moment to hide. You feel the edge of his teeth ghost the shell of your ear before he speaks, just low enough to make you shiver.
“Let me take you out tomorrow, sweetheart.” He says, and beneath his usual cocky countenance you hear the edge of a plea. “I’ll make up for ruining your date tonight. You can wear that little dress from earlier for me again.”
You feel exposed, stripped bare as you perch in Gaz’s lap. His hand strokes evenly over your spine, waiting patiently for your response.
“I want a fancy dinner.” You mumble, your fingers curling around his shoulders. “At a nice restaurant.”
You hear a shaky little exhale, and Gaz’s arms tighten around your waist. It strikes you that he’s relieved, and you feel your heart tremble in response. The knowledge that he wants you still is enough to have your own lungs seizing in response; you can’t quite bear to wonder if you’ve been wasting time for these past few months that you’ve been broken up.
“Whatever you want.” He says it like a prayer, tilting his head in search of your lips again.
The kiss is easy, the months that you’ve been apart dissolving into nothing. You’re a little too stubborn to give in entirely and beg for him back just yet though, but you doubt it matters. You’ve already admitted your weakness for him in the middle of shagging, and you’re not stupid enough to hope that he’s somehow forgotten it. You’ve been trying so hard to shove all those feelings down deep, but you’re not too surprised that they’ve all come bubbling out. He’s got a month of leave. You have no doubt that he’s going to use that time to change your mind. You find that you don’t mind the idea as much as you thought you might; you suspect that you can be swayed all too easily.
You peek up at him, only to come face to face with his sweet, hopeful deep brown eyes. He’s not pushing, but you can see the weight of desire and yearning in every inch of his face. No doubt it’s mirrored on your own. You don’t think you could ever look into his pretty face and deny him anything.
You hum, then whisper the only answer you could ever give.
“Yeah. Okay. It’s a date, then.”
#holy shit.#when he says “hey baby” my stomach DROPPPED Oh MY GOD KYLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE#FUCKKKK when he introduces himself. THATS SO HOT. WHY IS THAT SO HOT i CANNNNTT the RANKKKKK#holy shit. kyle just being all. no trouble mate. doors behind you. SO CASUALLY AND SMILEY h mygodhomygodhgmodmgydhgd#head in hands head in hands head in FUCKING HANDS#every time he talks i feel like MELTING 'you look good baby' aw HELLLLL#the tension of this exes to lovers is insane omfg how he never even considered staying anywhere else. LIKE THE LAST TIMES?????/#GOD the tension is insane. smelling his cologne and your body just relaxing no its own OHHH thats when you know youre fucked#he commands the fucking room oh my god 'go get changed we'll watch a movie' HE DOESNT EVEN ASK ARE YOU KIDDDDING MEEEE#i'd be so weak oh my god how can he still look at you like that!!! so softly and brightening up when you walk in the room#and him being handsome as ever is so true. THE prettiest boy youve ever seen indeed AND THE FACT THAT HE WENT STRAIGHT AFTER DEPLOYMENT#my god my heart ACHES. IM CLUTCHING MY CHEST. hes CRAISIE for this. making you your tea and tugging you closer oh my god#gaz being a romcom lover is SOOO cute. his toes curling in the big love confession PLS that's so precious :(((#his niCKNAMES TOO. I CANNAWT W HIM. LOVE. SWEETHEART. GOSH. KYLLEEEE#he's so... omg... it's impossible to resist him i swear. he's making it IMPOSSIBLE. this isn't FAIR. him spooning you?? HELLLLLL#fuckfuckfuckfuck when he admits it. that he's being selfish and its more for him than it is for you god KYLEEEE WHYYYY#he holds you that much tighter every time he gets back from missions :((( pls he knows what hes doing platonic cuddling MY ASS#.... god damn. his... he's... damn. telling him to stop humping your ass SO REAL LOL. pLSSS I CANNOT STAND THIS. HOW CAN HE JUST SAY#'SORRY LOVE MISSED YOU LOADS' AND EXPECT THINGS TO BE NORMAL. NOOOOOOPE#and the you never call me that ??? oH ILL GO INSANE. the way kyle is intimate oOOOOH im a sucker for that#omg...... him at ur throat... i am ded. 'u think it would feel like he was coming home' HELLLLLOOOO?!?!?!?!?#fuckfuckfuc. HE PULLS IT OUT?????!?DJSHBFSHF AND THEN CALLS YOU BABY?!?!? PANTING ??? oh my god....#omg hes just a mESS around you... thats so hot... fuck... FUCK... that little kiss.#and then he 'why would i do that when i had a girl waiting for me at home?' HELLO??!?!? NEVER WANTED ANYONE ELSE SDJFHBSA SHUT THE DOOR#omg... that im sorry and for now... thats so good op thats SO GOOD iM TEARY EYED#cod#gaz#rated
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the fall: part two cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, death mention, flashback part one part three
you miss kyle.
you know he shouldn't be on your radar, but it's been almost two months since you've last seen him.
sometimes you wonder how he's doing, and if he's safe. cutting off all contact with kyle was the best thing for you and your sanity, but it was also one of the hardest decisions you've ever had to make.
the next time kyle shows up on your doorstep, it takes you by surprise. you were certain that he would stay away after the verbal lashing you gave him.
your eyes are wide and your voice is tinged with shock when you question him about being at your door. “i thought i told you to-"
"go to hell? yeah, i heard you loud and clear, darling.” kyle will never tell you, but he loves it when you put him in his place. “i just wanted to talk, if you’ll let me.”
you refuse to look him in the eye as you step aside to let him in. you know for a fact that he won’t leave you be, so you’ll just have suck it up and get through this visit with your sanity intact. when kyle is finally inside, you close the door and lock it, then follow him to the living room. he makes himself comfortable on your couch and you have to resist the urge to make him leave. you were already starting to regret letting him in.
pretty brown eyes look at you expectantly, and you know he wants you to take the seat next to him. you don’t. and perhaps it was done out of spite, but you chose another seat instead. kyle frowns at the distance between you two, but he doesn't comment on it. he eyes you for a moment, before he lets out a shaky sigh and opens his mouth to speak.
you beat him to it.
“you left me.” it breaks his heart to hear how small your voice sounds, and how you stare off to the side with an unhappy look on your pretty face. “and the worst thing about all of this, is how i went back on my word because i’m too fucking blinded by love and a pretty face.”
you meet kyle’s gaze head on when he apologizes, as if it would mend your poor fractured heart. “you can’t be too remorseful, if leaving was your first choice. do you have any idea how it made me feel?” you ask, your voice full of fury. “it made me feel like i meant nothing to you, like i was nothing more than a one night stand. is that what you think of me? that i’ll always be good enough for you to fuck, but not good enough for you to love?” you watch him wince at the venom in your tone.
he shakes his head in denial and tells you that he does love you, but all you can do is stare at him in disbelief, as your eyes glisten with tears. "i’m not even sure if i believe you, kyle,” you manage to choke out while you try to regain control over your emotions.
kyle watches you with a heavy heart. he did this, never expecting for you to fall in love with him. but when he realized the exact moment your feelings for him started to change, he never mentioned it to you. it was inconsiderate of him to let it happen when this wasn’t what either of you agreed to. he should have ended it when he first got the chance, but deep down, he wanted you to love him.
“did you know i was in love with you?” the question had been gnawing at your brain for the last couple of days.
you finally get the chance to ask kyle, and he doesn’t bother responding. how can he, when the answer is written all over his face. it shocks you to your core. he’s sitting across from you with tense shoulders and a jaw that’s clenched so tight, you think it might shatter. he won’t even look you in the eye. you’ve been struggling with your feelings for weeks and he knew. it hurt to know that he’s carried your secret around with him for god knows how long, and not once did he ever acknowledge it.
you don’t even bother kicking kyle out. he watches you storm away from him and into your bedroom, the sound of your door slamming traveling to his ears. he runs a hand down his face, before swearing loudly. he knows he fucked up and he’s not even sure if he can fix it. with a sigh, kyle strides down the hallway to your bedroom. he doesn’t knock. he sits on the floor with his back resting against the wall across from your door as he listens to your sobs. he wants so badly to open the door and go to you, but he knows his presence will only make things worse.
kyle’s not sure how long he sits there on your floor with his head in his hands, before you emerge from your room. he straightens up when he hears your door creak open, his face falling when he notices your red eyes and the pained expression on your face. “you’re still here,” you comment softly as you stand in the doorway.
kyle leans against the wall with a sigh. “wouldn’t have been right for me to leave you.”
like you did before, you think to yourself bitterly.you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. you were already hurting enough as it is. it makes no sense to pour more salt into the wound.
kyle watches you shift from foot to foot, before you sink down to the floor across from him. the look on his face is unreadable and it makes you nervous. you want to know what he’s thinking and how he’s feeling. you want to know if what he said was true.
“what you said before—” you bit your lip nervously. you’re not exactly sure if you want an answer to the question you’re about to ask. you pause for a moment to gather up the courage to just spit it out. “you said you loved me. is that true, or were you just telling me what i wanted to hear?”
kyle has to look away from your imploring eyes when he tells you that he meant what he said. you expect to feel some kind of warmth from his words. It should make you happy that kyle loves you, but it doesn't. your feel your lips tremble, as you suck in a breath to keep your tears at bay. when kyle meets your gaze again, his eyes are wet with tears, and the look on his face is just as bad as the one on yours.
"i don't understand," you whine as you brush your tears away. "why didn't you say anything, kyle?"
"because i'm selfish. i wanted your love even though i never planned to let you have mine. and i hope you'll forgive me for everything i'm about to say." he pauses to take a deep breath. he's not sure how this conversation will end, but he has to get it out, for his sake and yours. "i could have told you months ago that i was in love with you but i decided not to. and as much as it pains me to say this, i thought it would be easier for you to love someone else. i’m a soldier, sweetheart.” he’s got too many enemies lurking and too much blood on his hands. “you deserve someone who won't leave for deployment and come back to you in a casket. i won’t ruin you like that, lovie. i should have broken things off with you as soon as it became too much for me. that was always the plan."
“so you’ve decided for the both of us, then.” you hate the way your voices cracks as you say it. you haven’t fully processed kyle’s answer. it wasn’t something you thought you would ever hear from his mouth.
“i’m sorry.”
the cord keeping you tethered to kyle snaps violently when you tell him it’s over and that you’re done.
it’s for the best, you think over and over again as you watch kyle walk out of your door, and out of your life. this isn’t what you want, but since kyle’s determined to keep you at arm’s length, he’s not giving you much of a choice.
when you no longer see the taillights on his truck, you brace yourself for the flood of tears you’re sure will come. and when they do, you don’t fight them.
damn you, kyle.
the shrill sound of your phone ringing snaps you out of a daze, the high volume making you flinch a little. when you look down to see who’s calling, you see kyle's name. you don’t even hesitate to answer.
“hello?”
“good evenin’, doll. i'm sorry to be callin' you so late.” it's simon. what the hell was he doing with kyle’s phone, and why was he calling you and not kyle himself?
“simon?” you must sound confused because he apologizes again. "it's fine. something must be wrong if you're calling from kyle's phone." when the silence lasts a little too long for your liking, you snap out a firm, “simon, please.”
“it’s kyle, he’s hurt.”
a/n: thank you to @starsofang for the inspiration. ily 💕
don’t jump me, i’m working on part three right now so y’all can get a happy ending.
part three sneak peek
masterlist
#the fall#kyle garrick#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#me a dialogue lover 😭#kyletogazwrites#don’t jump me y’all
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Yours, Mine, Ours
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader
wc: 1.5k words
warnings/tags: fluff
“So did the other two actually say no or did you just never invite them?”
“‘Course I invited them, you asked me to, so I did.” Simon replies with ease, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. “They’re smart lads, lovie, they knew to say no all by themselves.”
You shake your head at him in disbelief but the smile that’s been plastered across your face ever since the two of you pulled out of your flat’s parking doesn’t budge. Simon’s been driving for a few hours now, and as stressful of an experience as that is alone, you’re too excited to mind the long journey in the car.
Simon is on leave for the next two weeks, something about Price having to attend a funeral following a death in the family, and deciding that everyone on the force was due for a bit of time off. Seeing as the Captain was going to be preoccupied during his time off duty, he had asked if Simon wouldn’t mind checking in on his house for him, making sure things were alright. He’d even offered for the two of you to stay in the guest room for the duration of their leave.
Simon had explained how Price knew that the two of you were living in a small flat in London, and apparently his home was in a beautiful, forested, isolated area which meant he had essentially no neighbours, something he also knew would appeal to Simon. He offered for the two of you to stretch your legs out there at enjoy the property, including the privacy that came with it.
Wanting to be polite, you’d told Simon he should extend the invitation to Soap and Gaz, thinking they might enjoy a nice, quiet stay-cation as well at their Captain’s place away from it all. It would appear your lover had different ideas in mind however. Though you couldn’t blame him entirely, the thought of having the cozy cabin all to yourselves was certainly more appealing.
Every which way you look outside the car, your vision is filled by endless blurry trees as you zoom by, the colours of the leaves having finally changed into the warmer, more vibrant colour palette that came along with the autumn chill. If the drive up to his property was any indication of how beautiful the area really was, then you were in for quite the treat.
Entranced by the beauty of the landscape in comparison to the city lights you’ve grown so used to, you fail to notice the glances Simon keeps sneaking your way, the smallest of satisfied smiles seemingly permanently etched upon his face beneath his balaclava. He was grateful that after explaining the situation and Price’s generous offer to you, you had been too excited to ask many questions, instead getting a jump start on packing a duffel bag or two.
You were one of the most intelligent, clever, curious people he’d ever known, and it was normally quite difficult to get anything by you. He was therefore feeling rightfully proud of himself as he drove you nearer and nearer to the home you believed belonged to his Captain. In actuality, there was no funeral for Price to attend, the sergeants had certainly not been invited along on your getaway, and the home you’d be staying in wasn’t Price’s.
It was yours.
Yours, and Simon’s.
The two of you had been living in that shoebox of a flat he’d considered as ‘satisfactory’ when he was only staying there as a bachelor, for far too long. As ideal as the location might have been, there simply just wasn’t enough space for two people to live together, even considering Simon’s absences for work and that fact that when he was home, you two were essentially always on top of one another anyways.
You’d both been searching for a new flat for what felt like ages now, none of the places you visited feeling like the right fit. Simon would be weary about a certain neighborhood, you’d be concerned with the lack of any balcony or outdoor space, he’d ignore the price tag that felt your eyes bulging, and you’d shake your head as you walked through doorways that had him needing to duck down.
Little did you know, Simon had been doing his own house hunting, outside of the city. You had told Simon you were fine with staying in London, understanding that it’s convenient to have everything near by. But Simon didn’t want to give you just ‘fine’. He wanted to give you a home. The home he intends to spend the rest of his life with you in, plans on carrying you over the threshold in your wedding dress, hopes to carry sleeping newborns in their car seats through the door.
For months now, Simon has subtlety been learning more about what that home looked like to you. He’d look over your shoulder as you scrolled through Pinterest, casually asking if you could show him your boards, you know just for fun, and paid very close attention when you showed him the one named ‘future house’. On his phone, he had a list a mile long in his notes app, from secretly writing down every comment you made while watching your home reno shows. He’ll casually ask you what you think of the houses you drive by, jotting down your answers in his mind, remembering likes and dislikes.
He believes that like you, it’s the people filling the home that matter more than the structure itself, as proven by the way you continue to put up with his minuscule flat. He knows you mean it when you say you’re alright with another flat. But he has the money goddammit, he has the means to do this for you, and when the listing came up for a home in what you’d revealed as being your ideal area to settle down in one day, the house resembling the amalgamation of everything he believed you’d described as being your perfect place, he knew he had to put an offer in.
And if there ever was anything about the house you didn’t like or wanted to change, he’d gladly do it for you, no questions asked. You want to paint the bedroom? Just tell him what colour you want. You want to change the railing on the wrap around porch? He’s on his way to the hardware store already. You need him to dig a stump out of the backyard to make room for your garden? Sit back and enjoy the show lovie, he’s on it. And when the time comes to build a crib? Well he may as well baby proof the whole house while he’s at it too.
He’s pictured your reaction a thousand times over in his mind. He imagines you’ll maybe give a small gasp when he turns the corner of the long driveway and you first see the cozy, two-storey home, surrounded by never-ending foliage of red, orange, and yellow leaves, the time of year perfect for appreciating autumn in the UK, as well as the privacy the tall trees grant you. He thinks the first thing you’ll comment on will likely be the windows, an item high on your priority list he knew to adhere to.
He imagines you kicking off your boots as you step through the door, pace quickening to explore every room, spinning in the kitchen as you joke about how jealous you are of Price. He pictures you groaning with envy when you spot your dream master bathroom, insisting to Simon that since you’d been tasked with checking in on the home you may as well see every room, right? He plans to explain away the obvious sparseness of the home as the Captain not having lived here long, as being very non-materialistic after all his years in service.
He’ll continue to play along for as long as he can, part of him knowing that you know him well enough that you’re likely to catch onto his deception at some point. However he hopes that before you start rummaging through kitchen cabinets and find them empty, too empty even for an absentee captain of a homeowner, that you’ll mention something along the lines of wishing you could stay here longer. That’s when he plans to slip a key into the palm of your hand, revealing that you might be able to stay longer than you believe.
The small piece of metal that’ll unlock the rest of your lives together, sits heavy in his pocket, in contrast to the light feeling in his heart when his hand reaches across the dashboard to grab a hold of yours, knowing that the content, lovesick smile you offer him is likely stretched across his face as well, staring right back at you.
Though you’re unaware that Simon is currently driving towards your home, and not away from it, you’re gently stroking the scarred skin across his hand, feeling as though your home is sitting right next to you, holding your hand and your heart at the same time.
#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#call of duty fic#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod fanfic#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod simon ghost riley#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon fluff#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley fluff#simon ghost fluff#ghost x you#ghost fanfic#call of duty ghost#ghost cod#ghost#readwritealldayallnight
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bad day (simon riley x reader, best friends to lovers)
honestly, you should have seen it coming. staying in a safe house with four men who have never ending stomachs? but today, it was the last straw.
“you ate my last cookie?”
soap’s face dropped, jaw open. your voice was on the verge of breaking, tears forming in your eyes. you never showed this much vulnerability in front of the team, and he was flabbergasted. he shot a look at gaz, who was equally as confused. “‘m sorry, bonnie, i didnae ken-“ you pushed your hands on the table, shoving your chair back and out. “it’s ok. gonna take a nap.” you were wiping your eyes furiously, feeling unstable. first you got your period four days early (asking price to add pads to the shopping list was something you never wanted to experience again), then you couldn’t find your heating pad, and now your cookies were out? maybe it was the hormones, but you were done.
“oof.” you had ran into a thick wall. scratch that, the wall was moving. your vision was blurred by tears you refused to shed that you didn’t even realize it was your closest friend ghost. “dove?” you hiccuped. why did he always have to be so nice to you? gruff and mean-sounding to everyone else, but an avid listener and sweet talker when it came to you. “jus’ trying to get to my room, didn’t see you. sorry l.t..” you tried to maneuver around him, but unfortunately a 6’4 machine of a man did not move easily.
“why you cryin’, baby?” shit, simon did not mean to call you that. he did not want to have this conversation right now, especially when you looked like you were about to break down. you were always so strong, having to work ten times harder as a woman in the military, and he was always careful to not undermine you or your struggles. unfortunately, that landed him firmly in the friendzone for the past year, unable to confess his feelings without breaking your trust. he maneuvered you to the closest room, which happened to be his. he sat down on the bed, intending to sit you down next to him, but instead you still stood, walking in between his parted legs.
“‘m sorry, just on my period and everything hurts and it’s all hitting at once.” your eyes were red, avoiding his. he could see you were in pain, and as someone who had endured enemy torture and the hardest forms of training, his heart never hurt as much as it did now. he reached a gloved hand towards your face, brushing away your tears. his other hand came to your lower belly, rubbing circles over your clothes. “shhh, ‘s okay. you wanna sit down?” you shook your head in disagreement. you felt like a child, but you were never allowed to be weak outside of your own room. for some reason today, you let simon riley see you weak.
you walked around his body and laid on top of his covers, curling into a fetal position. he let you get comfy, finding a way to lay down that lessened your cramps. finally, you were done moving. “si?” you never called him that unless you absolutely needed him. he got up and locked the door, not wanting to disturb your peace. “yeah, baby?” might as well use it now, you hadn’t complained. if anything your face softened when he said it, and simon riley would die a thousand deaths just to see a moment of relief on your face. “will you lay with me?”
he eagerly stripped out of his gear, climbing on top of his bed to lay down with you. he placed a hand on your arm, letting you choose where you wanted him. you dragged his hand under your sweatshirt, using it like a heating pad for your cramps. you let out a soft moan of pleasure and he answered it with a low growl, pulling you into him by the stomach. his thumb caressed your bare skin with small circles, memorizing every dip and valley. he strived to commit the moment to memory, not knowing if you’d ever be this vulnerable again. “feel better, dove?” you nodded, finally succumbing to sleep that had evaded you the past night. he smiled under his mask, placing a small kiss to the back of your head.
finally you were at peace, and all because of him.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod 141#fluff#ghost call of duty#tornadothoughts#best friends to lovers#period cramps#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price
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Hear me out! The classic scenario where you and Ghost have to go undercover and pretend to be a married couple, right?
But Gaz and Soap are completely baffled seeing Ghost comfortable in this role. Is he this good at acting? Simon the Ghost Riley being fully comfortable with you touching him? And him casually, mindlessly even, resting his hand on your waist and pulling you close? They watch him slip into the role of a husband like it’s nothing. You don’t make a big deal out of it either. You casually run your hand over his back or stomach while walking by. He moves you out of the way by gently grabbing your hips.
And Gaz and Soap stand there, not believing their own eyes, looking at Price like “are you seeing this?” while their Captain doesn’t seem to understand what’s so shocking to them. What Price is forgetting though, is that the two sergeants were never informed that your last name is Riley.
Just food for thought. Just an idea. Take it and write it if you please! cuz I can't write a longer coherent fic with it I'm afraid lol
GO CHECK THE FIC based on this idea!! (give em lots of love!)
Secret lovers written by @savemefromanepicoftimewasted
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I'm just imagining having spent the night with a lover who isn't in the 141, only to wake up the next morning and there's in intervention waiting for you in the rec room.
Like, at first you're just confused. But when Price opens his mouth to ask you about how you slept...you have a bit of a meltdown. Why does it matter? Why is everyone staring at you? What's going on?
Soap grabs the collar of your t-shirt and pulls it down so everyone can get a look at the dark hickies dotting your neck. You slap his hand away, tears in your eyes.
"So all of you can do whatever you want? Sneak bitches on base and fuck around at all the bars we pass through! But I'm not allowed to do anything with someone I actually like?!"
It hurts. It feels like you're being stripped bare in front of them.
Price sighs, his gaze softens. It's obvious he doesn't want to have this conversation but something you've done has given him no choice. Soap just stands a few feet away, chest puffed out, eyeing you with a strange annoyance. You know if you try to leave he'll stop you.
"You are...not in the same position as us." Price tries and winces. He's obviously not putting his thoughts into soft enough words, but he continues. "You are...it is our responsibility to keep you safe."
"Safe? You're trying to keep me safe?" Your voice is raised higher than you've ever raised it at Price. "Safe by what? Fighting off all the guys at the bars? Safe by spreading lies about me to all of the PMCs and the other Task Forces?"
Price just closed his eyes and set his jaw. He had to know about the subterfuge you'd been experiencing for well over a couple years now. Everyone in the room was guilty as charged.
"You're and asset. And you're also a liability." Ghost speaks up, eyes narrowed, stance way too relaxed against the metal folding chair he sits in. "Do you remember what happened to the 7th Division?"
Saliva pools in your mouth, a sudden queasiness filling your stomach. Yeah, of course you remembered. Their beloved medic had been kidnapped by a group of angry drug lords using a mercenary group as their muscle. The 7th Division had gone in guns blazing to get their member back and well...they'd been wiped out. And their star medic they'd sacrificed everything for? She'd been brainwashed and inducted into the very agency that stole her away.
KORTAC
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You mutter. "Please tell me you're not."
"We can't have you fraternizing with anyone." Price states smoothly. "As our medic, you have a responsibility to us, your team. We can't have you getting caught up in something bigger."
"I understand what you're saying, but can't you see how ridiculous this is?" You try to reason. "I'm human, I have- god this is embarrassing. I h-have wants and...needs, just like you guys."
The silence is loud. You can't meet anyone's gaze. Price steps closer to you, swallowing hard. His next few words are spoken softly, conspiratorially.
"All of your needs will be taken care of. We will never let you suffer by yourself."
Price cocks his head to the men before you both. All of them straighten beneath his gaze. Price places a hand on the small of your back.
"Whatever it takes." He commands them. "I better not hear or see anything. Do I make myself clear?"
A trio of "yessirs" bounce off the white walls. Price just smiles and nods. He pats your back.
"There we go. You'll be fine." He sighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to your guest."
Your eyes widen, your throat drops into your stomach.
"Wait!"
"We've got ye, Bonnie. You n' all yer needs."
Six hands are on you from several different angles. Their massive frames block out the fluorescent lights.
"Ah, where are you goin'?" Gaz chuckles, his arm wraps around your belly.
You try to run after Price but the rec room door is slammed shut and locked. You try to push the closest man away, but he just grins down at you.
#cod imagines#mw2#call of duty#mw2 headcanons#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#john soap mactavish#captain price#simon riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick
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More Hybrid!Poly TF141 x Reader pleaaasseeeee? 🥹
(ps, love your writing!)
OwlHybrid!Poly TF141 X Reader
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for reading. You're all so sweet for the support! I'm negl. I didn't expect people to read it, haha. I'm so shocked by the love.
Thankyou @bina-passion-fruit for the morning after idea! See her reblog of the first part for the gist. And please feel free to send in scenarios you could see these birbs end up in!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day IS tense. The atmosphere has never been this suffocating.
Not in their own home.
Gaz sits curled up in Johnny's frame at the breakfast nook, head resting on the older mans shoulder, a deep frown setting into his face. His eyes are crusted a little, nose still deep red and cheeks puffy. He looks thoroughly exhausted, like he hasn't slept.
They all do.
Johnny has a cuppa sitting untouched. It's luke warm by now, but he can't bring himself to drink it. Face mirroring Gaz's, glaring down at the coffee like it has personally offended him. Every couple minutes, he huffs deeply, eyes darting away from the cup to glance around as if in thought, but he inevitably ends up gazing lost into his cup again.
Price and Simon are at the stove and counter. Quietly discussing things that need to be done for the day. There's lulls of silence in their convos, moments where their minds wander to the dove sleeping down the hall. Price feels guilt eating him alive. He's hunched a bit, chin tucked down in a clear sign of forlorn. Simon continues to run a hand up his spine soothingly, pressing closer to offer as much comfort as he can. But he can't deny the stabs of agony he, himself, feels.
It's raw. It sucks.
And Simon feels so fucking lost in this moment. He wants to gather all his mates in his arms (even you) and shush, coo, and coddle until there's nothing but purrs, chirps, and preened content lovers piled into a nest. He wants to scent you and rub you in their things to let you know you're safe and cared for now. He sees the trauma, the fear when Johnny reached for you. The self soothing you do by rubbing your arms.
He sees you. And in doing so, he sees himself. A scared fledgling unsure of the world, burned and bitten, spat upon by those who swore to love them.
Someone hurt you.
Tore at your feathers until you were too scared to take flight. And if Ghost ever gets a name he'd tear the motherfuckers wings from their spine.
The pitter patter of footsteps approaching the kitchen lifted them from their haze, four pairs of eyes snapping to you as you sleepily shuffled in. You wore a simple oversized t shirt and sweatpants to bed, hair rumpled from sleep, eyes and cheeks red and puffy from sleep. They can see the tear streaks dried from last night and it breaks their heart all over again.
Price makes the first move, taking a small step towards you with a plate held out. Buttered toast, sizzling eggs, and red srawberries sit on top.
"G'mornin' sweetheart, hope you slept well. 'Ve cooked some breakfast. There's coffee in the pot. Help yourself." Soft eyes gaze down at you. He's hunched inwards a little, head tilted down and the sweetest smile gracing his face. You feel very flustered, keenly aware of the 3 other sets of eyes intently watching.
Taking a deep breath, you offer a half smile, grasping the plate with slightly shaky hands.
"Uhm..t-thankyou, sir"
"John."
Wide doe eyes peer up at him, shock clear on your face. He feels his lips quirk at the sight.
"My mates call me John. Not sir. We're equal here, okay? You call me by my name." When his hand reaches out, you don't swat it away this time, only watching in marvel as he tucks hair behind your ears, crows feet aligning his kind eyes.
Taking a shaky breath, a soft, geniune smile spreads across your face, eyes darting to your feet and back up as you turn to the table. Johnny and Gaz are staring right at you, wings perked up. Gaz is quickest to his feet, pulling out a chair, a handsome grin settling on face. Pretty boy, you muse to yourself. Sitting down with a grateful smile and a hushed thankyou.
A hand reaches past your shoulder, jarring and unexpected. You whip your head up to see Simon offering a placate smile down at you, other palm face up to soothe. You tilt your head owlishly, blinking at him. It causes the older mans lips to quirk up on one side, brown eyes softening as he gazes down at you. He nods his head towards the table, and upon looking back to your plate, you realize he sat down a fork...oh.
Tears welled in your eyes, and a sniffle broke through. Simon's eyes widened a fraction, quickly backing away with both his hands raised, palm up.
"'M sorry luvie, didn't mean t'startle you."
It was sincere, filled with guilt. A small sob breaks past your lips. Johnny whines high in his throat, reaching out for your hand across the table, only to stop short, unsure if you'd appreciate the contact. His lips are once again pulled down, eyes saddened.
"Bonnie?..." Murmured so quietly into the air, the boys hold their breath, pulling their wings in to appear smaller. You wipe at your face again, sniffling, eyes glossy and cheeks rosy. And when you finally lifted your head, the last thing they expected was to see the brightest grin painted across your face, pure happiness shining, tear streaks lined with joy.
"No one's ever been so kind to me...thankyou. All of you."
Oh, dove, you haven't seen anything yet.
#imagines#one shot#cod x reader#cod#johnny mactavish x reader#idk how to tag this#johnny mactavish#john price x reader#john price#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick x reader#sadge#sadge boys with sadge feelings#hybrid au#poly 141#poly 141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#task force 141#im not well#men in love#theyre in love your honor#teletubbiesask
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What If 141 and the best enemies to lovers line of all time...
"Who did this to you?"
Cue protective instincts and sexiness
hehe I am giggling!! Okay. Listen. I am fully aware that this is an enemies to lovers trope, but I don't think it applies to all of the 141 guys in that manner. Is there protectiveness? Yes. Is there a bit of spice? Yes, if you squint really hard. Is there also some sweetness thrown in? Absolutely there is. I had lots of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it!
Presented in four double drabbles.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x 141!Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief blood and injury, hurt/comfort, brief suggestive themes, protectiveness, light angst
Word Count: 800
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
“Who did this?” Kyle bends forward at the waist, pressing a bag of frozen peas to your face. His concern is genuine. You can see that, but it’s strange. The two of you get on, but this is something else.
Kyle looks…angry like your injury personally offends him.
“It’s nothing,” you murmur. “Things happen during sparing. It’s fine.”
Kyle’s frown only deepens. He doesn’t believe you. And why should he? The person you were placed with took it too far. And it was all to impress him as if putting you in your place would somehow grant his favor.
It’s clearly done the opposite. He could care less about your sparring partner.
“It was your sparring partner, wasn’t it?”
You don’t answer. Just press the peas to your forehead a little harder.
This time, Kyle’s frown turns slightly upward. “Jokes on them, ya?”
You glance at him sideways. “How so?”
Kyle is grinning. It’s stunning. All pearly white teeth.
“Because I have my eye on someone else,” he says simply, as if that answers everything.
Though you cannot see yourself, you feel your face growing hot under Kyle’s gaze.
“You shouldn’t say thing like that,” you reply.
“Why? It’s true.”
John Price
“Who did this?”
“Why do you care so much, John?”
You attempt to pull your face out of his grasp but he holds firm.
“Of course I care,” he replies. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. John is close. Too close. So close he could easily brush his lips against yours.
“I don’t know why,” you murmur.
“You do,” he affirms, authority in his tone.
Do you? Maybe. Perhaps. Deep within yourself you truly know the reason but can’t decide to speak it to the air. That would make this real. Whatever this is between the two of you.
‘Tell me who did this?”
“And do that what?”
“What the fuck I want to them, love.”
“It’s nothing. You shouldn’t worry about it,” you reply, again trying to escape from him.
But John isn’t having it. His other hand hooks around your upper arm, and then you’re pressed closed to him. He is so warm. All strength.
“Let go,” you say, but there is no volume behind it. It is weak. Not even a protest.
“Tell me,” he repeats, head dipping slightly.
Yes. Close enough to kiss.
“Tell me,” he says again, this time softer.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Simon’s blood beats heavy. It is tinged with metal. A lace of fire that cannot abate.
His boots slap against the linoleum floor. The overhead lights are bright. Clinical. He is a shadow here. A dark specter.
No one stops him. No one glances his way.
And why should they?
He is a man made fury.
There were hands put upon you. A training exercise taken too far. Simon was not there. And he doesn’t know why. Not exactly. But he’s furious. Protective. The fact that he could not stop this only infuriates him further.
To him, this is a failure.
He doesn’t come to a stop. Doesn’t knock. He barges right on in.
The nurse yelps. Spins suddenly. Face red.
You glance up, eyes wide at first but soothing slightly as they land on Simon. You’re bruised. Stitched up.
Fucking hell.
“Out,” barks Simon.
The nurse leaves but stares him down the entire time. He approaches the table, and lightly brushes the backs of his fingers against the wound on your forehead.
“Who did this?” he asks.
“Simon—”
“Which fucker?” he growls, bending forward slightly to look into your eyes.
“Should see the other guy,” you joke, smiling.
John "Soap" MacTavish
Johnny shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t. You’re not his. Even if he wishes it were so.
Every swing of his fist sends the building frustration outward, shooting into the massive boxing bag before him. It’s a poor substitute for the face he truly wants to smash. Several faces that is. Two specifically.
Who did this?
The words slipped from him unbidden. An instant anger. You had only scowled. Told him you could handle yourself. And you can. Johnny knows this. But he’s still fucking pissed about it. Still seething.
All the fucker got was a quick slap on the wrist. A promise to not do it again.
That sits sour in Johnny’s belly.
But you didn’t cave, no matter how much Johnny insisted that he’d take care of it on your behalf. So he is here, punching the shit out of something that isn’t flesh.
He wishes he could take away your pain. Take away the memory. Give it to himself to carry. You don’t turn on your own. There’s no honor in what happened.
But as much as he wants it to be true, Johnny can do nothing.
You are not his.
Even if he wants to be.
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#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#task force reader#task force 141 imagine#task force 141 fanfiction#task force 141 fanfic#task force 141 fic#task force 141 fluff#task force 141 headcanons#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley fanfic#simon ghost riley fanfic#simon ghost riley#price mw2#captain price mw2#price cod#john price imagine#john price x reader#john price cod#john price x you#soap mactavish fanfic#john soap mactavish#soap call of duty#soap mactavish#soap cod#soap mw2#kyle garrick x reader
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The Whole Bakery
Prompt: How will the boys respond to an S/O who slaps their ass out of nowhere? [Requested by @airghostlyfox]
Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 0.8k
Warnings: expletives; lightly suggestive content
There he was. Making his morning cup of coffee. Comfortable sleep clothes and sluggish movement. Your handsome partner.
He had finally freed himself from the blanket web and your comfortable arms, with the intent to go through most of his “honey-do” list that weekend.
And he was so unaware.
That your arm was winding up for a powerful smack to his ass.
John Price
The sound was not as impressive due to his sweatpants, but the way he jerked and slowly put down the things in his hands was reward enough. He did not appreciate it. And he did not turn around.
“Luv,” he said in an even tone. “What the hell was that?”
You rubbed the offended cheek with the same hand, deciding against pinching, as he would win any fight you started.
“My darling John. Your ass is just so wonderful, I can’t help myself.”
Both hands gently squeezed his ass. And you pressed an apologetic kiss between his bare shoulder blades.
“You’ve got the whole bakery right here, bubba.” Gentle pats. Still no movement of his neck. “All these buns.”
Finally, he turned around.
He was trying very hard not to smile. Trying not to encourage you. But goddamn, did you look pleased with yourself. Strong arms wrapped around your middle, pressing you to his chest.
“You are-” Kiss. “Such a flirt.” Kiss. “And absolutely shameless.”
You kissed him back and lazily threw your arms over his shoulders.
Behind you, his arm raised itself and smacked your ass as hard as he possibly could. You folded into him with a yelp.
“GOD FUCKIN–!”
Simon Riley
The moment your hand left his cheek, he had turned on you and grabbed you under the armpits.
“Uh oh” was all you had the chance to say before he dragged you off to the nearest wall. He was smiling, but it was the smile that meant you were still in trouble. You chuckled nervously as he settled you against the wall, caging you in and leaning in close.
“You are a cheeky one,” he purred.
“Yessir.”
“Any particular reason we’re playful this morning?”
You wriggled your arms out of his grip, and settled your hands over his ass again. He let you, one of his fingers tapping your nose.
“Well, if you must know, Simon,” you said, adopting a matter-of-fact tone. “It is because your ass is just so delicious looking.”
He snorted at your blunt words and hid his eyes with his hand.
“Bloody hell.”
“I mean, just look at it, lover.” You firmly gripped his ass, squeezing ever so slightly. “All this cake.”
He sighed, but he was still laughing. You’re adorable. He loves you.
Kyle Garrick
You didn’t smack too, too hard. A peace offering for walking around in his boxers and nothing else. Your favorite outfit on him.
But he still jumped and gave you a dirty look.
“It is 8 in the morning, you shit.”
You turned him back around and massaged his ass, humming a cheerful tune. “I’m just gonna knead this yummy dough, don’t mind me.”
“You a cat? Making biscuits?”
You giggled and kissed the back of his neck.
“Oh, have you got some biscuits on you, loverboy.”
He couldn’t help but laugh into his cup, turning himself around and pulling you into his embrace. Soft, coffee-flavored kisses. Then his arms snaking lower, and his own hands settling on your ass.
“I think that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”
“Sweeter than ‘I love you’?”
He squeezed your ass and pulled you impossibly closer to him.
“Mm,” he sighed into your mouth. “Tied for first.”
You pulled back and narrowed your eyes.
“What? Oh, right. I love you, too, baby.”
Johnny MacTavish
Of all the boys, he has no right to complain. A chronic ass-slapper. Repeat offender groper. Can’t sleep without one hand one you, be it your arm, your stomach, or your leg.
He was singing some song to himself, dancing a little. Background noise that kept him from hearing you until it was too late.
“Steaming bloody-”
You hit him too hard. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. You ducked out of his grasp and started pleading for forgiveness.
“Baby, I’m sorry, that was harder than I meant. I’m sorry. I’m sor- shit.”
A mad scramble around the kitchen island. Never had you run away from your bare-chested Scotsman so quickly.
“Get your arse back here!”
“Nuh uh!”
“Fuck you mean-” He vaulted over the island and you screamed. Like a bird of prey, he grabbed you and dragged you to the couch, falling on top of you with all his weight.
“I’m sorry, baby,” you wheezed.
He smothered your face and neck in kisses, and accepted your apology. He would get you back later. With less force but greater number of ass slaps. You were sure of it.
Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)
Posted: 2023 Dec 12
#cod mw2 x reader#cod x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#john price fluff#captain price fluff#simon riley x reader#simon riley fluff#ghost x reader#ghost fluff#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick fluff#gaz x reader#gaz fluff#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish fluff#soap x reader#soap fluff#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish fluff
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