#gaz Garrick x f!reader

[celestialprincesse]

That Bodyguard Gaz thought is delicious! Would you eleborate?? The brain worms immediately went to the agent being this cute, cubby, little thing and is very unsuspecting but turns out to be actually very deadly when needed!

Hope you feel better!

Oh she is so cute and clever and fucking insane I love her In my mind I sort of imagined him with my oc Kitty/Houdini, but this could also be read as X reader🎀 Reader goes by codename Hecate and She/Her pronouns💕

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

At exactly 6:14AM, on Tuesday the 17th of October, Kyle Garrick is woken by his phone ringing. Incessantly. Again and again and again. "It's shit O'clock. What do you want?" He grumbles into his phone, sitting up on the edge of his bed with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Captain John Price's equally tired vice crackles down the line. "Laswell needs you. Says she's got someone that needs protection services. That's all she gave." "And she gave you this at 6AM? "It's 01:00 there. She's been busy. Meetup location with the charge is in your inbox."

With that, John hangs up, leaving Kyle to gather his bearings as he opens his eMail app, scrolling to the top of his newly reicived messages to find one with no subject, and no content aside from a street name and address, as well as a time that he assumes he should be there by. If it's from Laswell, and passed down through Price, he knows it's legit. Kate only ever gives him the important ones, either expensive or irreplacable. It doesn't take long for him to be ready, Union Jack cap pulled down over his brow, and a pistol in the inside pocket of his coat, just for good measure.

London is, as always, miserable. The pavements are slicked with rain and the sky is concrete grey, reflected in the cold glass of skyscrapers, towering into the sky like the scales of some rippling serpent. It's hard to spot someone when he's got no clue of their appearance or career. Why they need his protection. All he has is a name, a callsign too, for good measure. Hecate is what they call you. Goddess of witchcraft and magic. That, unfortunately, doesn't particularly narrow his search, not in a city with a whopping eight million people crowding it's pavements and flooding it's tube stations, sitting outside of cafe's or sheltering from the rain in the overhangs of shops.

Kyle, strangely enough, feels nervous. All of the guys have their things - their specialties - and VIP Protection is his. But it's been a long time since he was in charge of someone's life, trying to protect it, instead of taking it, and he suddenly feels incredibly unequipped. He'll be staying with the charge. John told him in a seperate message to bring a bag. At least enough for a few weeks as they settle in to their safehouse kindly provided by the CIA. They've splashed a fair amount of cash to get a place on this side of town, where the streets are clean and the crime rates are lower. His person must be important. He assumes, seeing as he wasn't on the receiving end of a photo or description, that they'll be seeking him out, so he dutifully takes his place outside the quiet café, paying for his coffee with cash. In the fifteen minutes he waits, (having arrived early) Kyle never once lets himself zone out or get lost in his thoughts.

What he doesn't expect to see is you. About as scary as a butterfly and quietly unassuming in jeans and an oversized hoodie, Kyle's curiosity is piqued. "You're Hecate?" He probes carefully, removing his hat to allow you a view of his face, as he does with many of his clients. He finds it stops them from being skittish with him. It's always easier to protect someone who trusts you. That's his philosophy, anyways. "Gaz Garrick?" You inquire back, wary until he slides his driver's license and tags across the table. "File's in my bag if you'd like to see that too." "This is enough. Thank you." He likes you immediately. He likes that you're careful without being outright flippant, guarded but not dismissive.

The waitress gives you an unpleasantly disdainful look, flashing you a tight lipped smile, unlike the flirty one she gave to your companion upon taking his order. "Just a regular builders for me please." Her tense smile is reciprocated as you order your tea, trying to keep the caffeine to a minimum today. You're already jittery.

Kyle opens the door of the black bulletproof SUV for you, watches the way you blink up at him with gooey soft doe eyes, and he struggles to push down the highly unprofessional thoughts that invade his head as he watches you hop up into the car before him, adjusting his cap to stop himself from openly ogling your ass. "You fancy putting the address in the SatNav?" Kyle coos at you, trying not to smother you. He can tell you're skittish. Probably not used to the idea of having someone with you, day in day out watching your every move.

Of course, Laswell would set you up somewhere like Richmond, somewhere quiet and safe. You're clearly someone important if Kate is handling your affairs personally - and his day rate has gone up substantially since joining the 141. The apartment is pleasant, soulless, but nice all things considered. Immediately upon entry, he takes notice of the added locks on the door - three of them, and the dead bolted fire escape. It's good, gives two exits incase one fails, but not so many that you could easily forget to lock the door on one of them and risk compromising your safety. There's a cluster of all sorts of technology strewn on the counter, like you'd set yourself up in a rush and not had time to get fully organised, he assumes you've not been here long.

The next morning you shuffle downstairs to find Kyle looking confused as he stares at the contents of your refrigerator, "You need something? I can swing by the shops if need be." "You have a safe in your fridge." He deadpans, looking down to you, still sporting some thin pyjama shorts and an old Marlboro tee. he can't help but wonder how you look so pretty without even trying. "Oh! Yeah ... that." You mumble, flushing profusely as you stare up at the soldier. "Funnily enough, people don't think to check the fridge. Burglars and whatnot." Kyle startles at your easy mention of being robbed, and the inference that you've potentially dealt with burglary enough to be familiar with the mindset of a potential home invader. "You get burgled a lot?" "Mm. Used to." You mumble as you root through the safe-fridge for a bottle of orange juice, pouring two glasses. Apple juice is Kyle's personal preference, or some sort of smoothie, but he takes the glass from you with a grateful smile. Best to just go along with you, keep you comfortable. Not to mention the warm smile you give him when your fingers brush around the glass has his insides growing warm.

After having met you, a woman so clearly formidable to be protected by Kate Laswell herself, to have earned the nickname of a goddess, Kyle not only finds himself far less nervous - he feels warmly optimistic. He feels, for the first time in far too long, genuine hope for connection.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Might or might not add to this at some point idk n e ways!!!💕

Badly written and not edited so sorray!!

[ghouljams]

Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.

Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.

Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.

Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.

At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...

[dmitriene]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

main masterlist. quidelines.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Overheard confessions part 2? You over hear them confess to the team about how they love you and want to have an army of kids with you...or like a lot of dogs on a farm lol

Don't mind me, I'm just shrieking like a hyena over here. I am obsessed with the idea of a part two but from the opposite perspective. What happens when we hear the guys making the confession. I had way too much fun with this one. Just pure glee. Enjoy! (Find Part 1 HERE.)

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

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, swearing, breeding undertones, suggestive themes, mild alcohol/smoking, fluff, implied sexual content, mild dirty talk

Word Count: 2k

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

John Price

“You’re a mess, John.”

You clutch the manila envelope to your chest, coming to a dead stop just outside Captain Price’s office. The door is cracked, your hand pressed flat against the wood with the intent to enter. That flies out the coop. You’re glued to the spot, listening as Laswell continues to speak.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Care about my sleeping habits, Kate?”

Laswell snorts. “You look tired. What’s on your mind?”

There is a stretch of silence. You don’t dare breathe—don’t dare move. When Price doesn’t answer, you hear Laswell sigh. It’s not an annoyed sound, but one of pity. She knows what troubles him.

“It’s the secretary. Isn’t it?”

A secretary? What secretary?

You comb through all of them in the building. There are only a handful of you—maybe ten total.

“It’s nothing, Kate.”

“Just admit how you feel, John.”

Your hand drops from the door and crosses over your chest. The manila envelope crunches softly against your breasts as you squeeze it tighter.

“What do you want me to say? That I fancy the woman?” He scoffs.

“Yes,” replies Laswell. “It’s that simple.”

Your mind races. Of the ten secretaries in the building, there are maybe three—including yourself—that this could apply to. A blossom of hope blooms in your chest, a racing sensation of your heart palpitating. You shouldn’t wish for it, but for it to be you?

No.

“I’m her superior.”

This time, Laswell scoffs. “She’s not even your secretary, John. She’s mine, and I think you need to say something to her.”

Oh fuck.

It’s you. They’re talking about you.

“Really, Kate?”

“Really, John.” Laswell sighs. “Not to be crude, but maybe if she were getting laid, she wouldn’t hide my cigarettes when my wife tells her to.”

“Christ, Laswell.”

“No, John. Tell me how you feel about her.” He doesn’t. “I’m waiting.”

You hear a grumble on Captain Price’s end, then, “I want to make an army of kids with her. I want to wake up with her beside me and for her to be near when I sleep.” He pauses. “I like the way she throws her head back when she laughs. Her smile.” Then, softly, “I love everything about her.”

There is a tap tap tap of a shoe against linoleum, and then someone’s walking toward the door.

“That’s it, John. Just tell her how you feel and—”

The door opens wide, revealing you. Captain Price and Laswell both freeze. Price’s face goes from surprised to a dark shade of pink. Laswell’s shifts to a knowing smirk.

“Is that the file I asked for?”

“It is,” you affirm.

Laswell nods. “Hand it over to Captain Price. He needs to take a look at it first.”

“Laswell—”

“Goodnight, John,” she calls out, shutting the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Price clears his throat, standing.

“I heard what you said,” you say quickly.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“I—”

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand.

Dumping the manila folder on the desk, you circle to his side. Price is perfectly still, watching you the whole time. What you’re about to do is bold.

Placing your hand on his chest, you lean in. His entire demeanor softens as he mimics your movement.

“You said you wanted to make an army of kids with me.”

“It’s one thing I want to do with you.”

Shifting, you inch toward the desk, propping yourself up to sit on top of it. It’s true, you do need to get laid, and why not with a man who is more than willing.

Price’s gaze lowers as you spread your legs.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"She's fucking gorgeous, mate."

"Is that all?"

With back pressed against the wall, you listen in on the conversation.

Kyle and Johnny’s voices carry in the small apartment. You linger in the short hallway that leads to the kitchen and dining room. They have no idea that you are home, listening in just around the corner.

“No,” comes Kyle’s voice. It’s not sad but strained, like he’s trying to form the right words but keeps stumbling over what to say.

Anxiety grips your stomach, twisting tight.

"She's everything I want,” says Kyle, this time sounding confident.

"Everything?" Johnny whistles and you hear the creak of a chair. "You looking to marry her?"

The twisting sensation becomes a clamp. A vice grip that closes your throat.

"If she'll have me," answers Kyle immediately.

Johnny chuckles. "You'll marry her and then what? Pop out an army of wee bairns? Adopt a cat and two dogs?"

“All of the above,” answers Kyle. “Or nothing at all. It’s what she wants.”

“Oh, aye,” replies Johnny. “That's a good answer."

The sudden seizing of limb and lung relaxes, returning you to the moment. Your heartrate speeds up, becoming a thundering thing that threatens to burst from your chest. Kyle may be your boyfriend but you never suspected that this is what he wants.

"When do you plan on proposing?" asks Johnny.

"Haven't thought that far," murmurs Kyle.

"Too focused on how you're gonna have that army of barins?" laughs Johnny.

"You wanker,” mutters Kyle, but you hear the smile in it.

"Just remember—”

You cannot hide any longer. It’s unbearable.

Emerging suddenly—and almost tripping over your own foot in the process—the two men go quiet, their gazes widening as you appear like an apparition before them. Between then is an open bottle of scotch and various containers of Kyle’s favorite takeout spot.

Kyle is out of his seat in a second, heading for you. He whispers your name, a soft thing meant only for you, and all your love comes rushing up to warm your cheeks and soften your insides.

As he nears, the words tumble from you. "You want a small army with me?" you whisper.

"You heard that?" he asks.

The next words you form are dangerous yet you say them anyway. "Do you want to start trying?"

You put every ounce of lust you can muster into those few words. Kyle’s bodily response is immediate. His shoulders straighten, and a hungry need enters his eyes. This man is about to drag you to bed and fuck you raw for hours.

"Johnny," snaps Kyle, voice cracking slightly. He clears his throat. "Time for you to go."

John "Soap" MacTavish

A tornado rips through your senses.

Did you hear Johnny correctly? Surely not.

"You don't understand, Simon."

Johnny is in the bedroom pacing around while he talks to Simon on the phone. At your current distance from out in the hall, it’s difficult to hear Simon’s response.

"You're balls deep in a different lass every week. Don't hardly know their names. And you're going to give me shit about this?"

A snort almost escapes your nose, revealing your location. Johnny isn’t wrong. Simon is a notorious slut among Johnny’s group of friends. There is always a different woman on his arm whenever they go out.

Johnny pauses before continuing. "I love this woman. I want a bloody army of bairns with her. Fuck, I'll take an army of animals if that's what she bloody well wants."

He sounds irritated, but you know it’s just his passion. Johnny can be hotheaded, especially when it comes to the people he cares about. Either that or Simon is giving him shit on the other end.

"I need your support, Simon." All is quiet, and then you hear Johnny’s amused snort. "You're always giving me shit, Lt." He chuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow at brief.”

You slip around the corner and enter the bedroom. Johnny glances up from his phone, his mouth a wide smile upon glimpsing you. “Come here,” he says with a sultry purr, reaching out.

You go to him without effort.

Wrapping you up in his arms, Johnny kisses the top of your head. You tilt your face upward, going in for something softer.

"I heard you talking on the phone,” you murmur, accepting another kiss from Johnny.

"Did you?"

"You want an army of kids?"

Johnny's neck flushes pink. "I may have said that."

Your hug becomes intimate, hands gently caressing until you find the front of his sweatpants. Johnny groans into your mouth as you find him, lightly rubbing him toward hardness. It’s a tease of a touch. The moment he’s throbbing under your hand, you pull away, fingers toying with the strings of his sweatpants.

"You don't mind if we start now?"

Johnny's gentle embarrassment becomes a sultry glare. "Oh, aye. We have the rest of the day and all night to try."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"I want her, Johnny."

The pan of brownies you’re holding nearly go crashing to the floor. Simon’s words are a brick wall. You’ve been baking all day because it’s the only thing you can do to distract yourself. The plan is to drop them off with Simon and let the boys devour them. Instead, you’re dumbfounded, standing right outside the door to the meeting room Price’s secretary told you to drop the sweets at.

“Who?” asks Soap absently.

When Simon speaks again, it is your name that falls from his lips. Yes, you and Simon are together, but you’re not together. This is fuck buddies. This is friends with benefits. This is…not a relationship.

Or so you thought.

But you’re at his place of work dropping off fucking brownies. The rest of his team call you by your first name. They expect you at functions when they all bring their significant others along. Yet you and Simon are not a couple.

Not officially anyway.

"Oh, aye?” asks Soap, his tone amused. “And does she want you?"

Yes. More than you know.

You’re fully aware that Johnny and Kyle give Simon shit about you. Not because they don’t like you—they adore you—but because they think Simon needs to put a ring on it. They aren’t quiet about it either.

But Simon has never been so forward with his feelings for you. He might tell you sweet things when his dick is deep inside you, but you’ve never heard him be this blunt.

"Don't care. She's mine, Johnny. I'll make sure of that." The mine is almost a growl, a possessive bite that sends a bolt of need to your core.

Johnny chuckles but there’s nothing condescending in it. He sounds…happy.

“Finally, Lt. Fucking finally!”

You hear Johnny enthusiastically smack Simon’s back—or shoulder—and then the man growls like he’s aggressively shaking Simon.

“You’re going to fucking crack my ribs, Johnny.”

“I’m just happy for you, Lt.”

You step forward, pressing your shoulder against the doorframe. They are still out of view, but you don’t want to reveal yourself yet.

“Finally going to make an honest woman out of her?” jokes Soap.

Simon snorts. “I’ll even make you an uncle, Johnny.”

“Me? I expect an army, Lt. Five mini-Riley’s running around.

“Fucking hell, Soap.”

Your cheeks are hot, and you’re standing out in the hall like an idiot. The last thing you need is for one of them to open to door and find you here.

Knocking to announce yourself, you open the door of the meeting room. They turn in your direction, but it’s only Johnny’s face that’s clear to you. Simon is wearing a balaclava, and the only part of him you can see are his eyes.

Johnny’s grin is devilish. “What’s that, love?”

“Brownies?”

He perks up. “Gaz is gonna flip his mug.” You hand them over and Johnny removes the foil on top. “I’m eating this entire pan.”

“Fuck off, Sergeant,” says Simon.

Johnny gives him a half-hearted salute before disappearing out the door, a chunk of brownie already shoved in his mouth.

“You just get here?” asks Simon, sauntering forward.

The soft sway of his hips is a tantalizing thing. You’re hypnotized. Locked in.

“No,” you whisper.

“No?”

“I—I heard you and Soap talking.”

Simon is inches away, his broad chest and shoulders seeming impossibly wide, almost boxing you in.

“What do you think?”

“You want me all to yourself?”

Simon’s voice is a growl. “You’ve always been mine. That’s never changed.”

You place your hand on Simon’s chest. “You promised Soap you’d make him an uncle.”

“I did.”

“And if I want to start right now?”

Simon leans in a bit further, his gaze burning like warm whiskey. “Then you should bend yourself over the table and lift that dress.”

taglist:

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

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

[oceantornadoo]

the wrong john masterlist

john price x f!reader (johnny's twin)

ao3. | tumblr tag: “fic: the wrong john”

your estranged twin johnny asks you to meet his new boyfriend and beloved task force at the base they're stationed at. the night before, you meet his captain, and well. chaos ensues.

the chapters:

two strangers in a bar

yours or mine

last names are important

guilty as sin?

i called you on the phone today

come back, be here

a knock on the door

family issues

a place for the two of us

tags: unhealthy family dynamics, x reader but there is some backstory, drinking, flirting

will add more as the series continues! chapter names are subject to change

guysss this is my first planned series! it's based on a dream i had lol like all good ideas should be. the nine chapters are a a bit ambitious but i'm really trying to grow my writing skills so we'll see how it goes. let me know if you want to be tagged, updated coming soon :)

[deunmiu-dessie]

CONTENT WARNING: p link, nsfw

https://x.com/sugarfemdom/status/1768791534022144210?s=46

genuinely can’t decide if this is older bf simon or pussywhipped gaz

♡♡𝆬 🕯️nonnie! im ngl, simon is the type to have you sit on his face. like it's his go-to pussy eating position. he loves how eagerly you hump and grind on his tongue in the beginning, like a little bunny. and once you try to pull away with trembling thighs, he grabs your hips firmly to keep you seated, eating you out with a new fervor and overstimulating you. does this for what feels like hours 😭

now gaz? the man gets lost in the sauce, like in that video and this one. and poor baby doesn't mean to, but he completely overstimulates you. but it's not his fault! you taste so good and the noises you make and the begging you do only make him more desperate to see you cum again. it's almost impossible to get gaz to remove himself from between your thighs. good luck babe. ૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა ₊˚⊹♡🫧— 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑒

[tojisun]

price having to shove his fingers into gaz’s mouth whenever you let him cum inside you because of how loud he starts whimpering

im a mess on the floor that someones gotta mop me off atp!!

kyle’s in between john’s legs, his back pressed flush on his captain’s front, while you have been a marvel before them—riding kyle while john pets your lover throughout, callused fingers flicking at kyle’s pretty nipples, softly tugging at the jewelled piercings he’s got on. they glint with every fractured light, and john had been infatuated, unable to put his paws away.

kyle’s nipples are pebbled, sensitive, and john tugs at the rings again in tandem with every of your bounce—thighs shaking, your own tits a wild distraction, and your manicured nails flicking at your clit because kyle’s gone slack, unable to do it for you now that he’s oversensitive.

one particular thrust bumps his cock against your walls and you wail, almost toppling over. you had to stop, trying to breathe through the deep press of his length, its cockhead thick and breaching, your hole spasming around him. but your cunt is soft, drenched, and feverishly hot, and kyle is losing his hold. his orgasm peaks—

then it breaks.

he lets out a deep groan as he cums, his voice is a heavy reverb, and john has to stuff his fingers in your beloved’s mouth to keep him quiet. no one would hear, truly, not with how far and private john’s quarters are, but it is such a dizzying idea—john plugging up kyle to shut him up—so he does it, almost in a daze. he digs his fingers into kyle’s tongue, feels the vibration of his moans rippling from the inside of kyle’s mouth, and placates your wailing lover with nuzzling kisses.

“shh, little bird,” john murmurs. “be quiet f’me, won’t you?” kyle gargles something unintelligible and john chuckles, fully endeared.

he flicks his eyes up to you, asking despite the silence. you’ve yet to cum and being pumped full of kyle’s seed has made you increasingly needy, razing your body with pinpricks of desire that is so ever-bloating, but you wait quietly, obediently, knowing that your captain will be the one to take you until you are weeping and begging for a reprieve.

(the three of you know, anyway, that ever since your escapade with the captain, no one else could make you cum because there is no one that can replicate his… dominance, sure, but mostly his presence. how it’s so overwhelming and intoxicating; terrifying, almost, with how you always felt irrevocably small before him. how you felt so seen no matter how much you try to shield yourself from his eyes.

john fills you up, in a way that is more than a weeping cock. he fills up that gaping chasm within you that aches for someone to—

well—

to take over. to take care of you.

to possess you.)

john’s other hand is still massaging your hip, a gentle sort of appreciation, so you take over the worship done to kyle’s chest; kiss-swollen lips peck at his buds, before pearly teeth tug at the barbells.

kyle jumps, lurching, and john has to restrain him again. you giggle, a little breathless thing, because another weak spurt fills you up, kyle’s cock pulsating throughout.

god, you want more.

[storiesaplenty]

Who fucked you better? (18+)

141 Task Force x f/Reader

Call of Duty Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: swearing. Smut below the cut. Unprotected sex. P in V. Oral. Creampie. Anal sex. Use of toy. Recording sexual acts. Oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Ball sucking. Cowgirl.

WC: 1740

Divider by @strangergraphics

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

Captain John Price

"Yes love, let them all hear you." John groaned as he fucked into you from behind. You are flat against the bed, your hips slightly raised just enouh for him to pound you into his mattress.

His hips slamming off your ass making you cry out his name as you reach back and place one hand on his stomach to try and get him to slow down, but he has a point to prove, not only to himself, but to you and his men.

He slapped your hand away, reaching around your body to grip you by the neck and pull you against his hairy body.

"Who the hell do they think are? Huh?" His thrusts were now hard, rough, choppy.

"John please." You whined.

"Asking if I can take care of you? Think they can love you like I can?"

"No." You whimpered, your pussy clenching around his cock at how possessive he was being."

"Think anyone of those 'boys.' can fuck you like I can? Make you cream the way I know how? Bet they couldn't make you squirt? Oh no, only I can." John groaned into your ear, is end drawing near.

"Bet none of them can make you go stupid with just their cock? My smart woman goes all dumb the moment my cock is in one of your pretty, little holes."

"John!" You practically scream as you came. Your pussy clenching so tight around his cock that John followed right behind you.

His hips stilling against your ass as he cums inside of your pussy, making you softly moan at how he is filling you.

"You better?" You finally asked, pulling away from him with your wobbly legs, to go over to the dresser and turn off the camera, hitting send to send to the group chat that you have with the guys.

"Much better darling." John said, as he grabbed a cigar and lit it, hearing your phone vibrate as you kiss your way down his hairy, sweaty body, taking his softening cock in your mouth and sucking.

"Can't wait to see what you do with the others. Those lads trying to prove how good they can fuck you, compared to me."

Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"Relax baby. I got you." Kyle said as he trailed his hand down your back, as he pushed his thumb in your tight, ass.

You were trying to relax, you really were, but it has been a bit since he fucked you there.

Kyle put the tip against the hole as he pulled his thumb out, and slowly started to push in, making you gasp out his name.

He had his phone set up to record the two of you as he slowly pushed his cock into your ass.

He had another spare phone, pointing at your ass to record him sinking into your ass, until his hips were flushed against ass.

"Oh fuck." He quietly moaned as every single inch was inside of you. Your body was trembling at how full you fell.

He put a vibrating dildo in your pussy earlier as he has seemed to turn up the vibration making your eyes screw shut as you moan out his name, squeezing his cock with your ass.

"Gonna make me cum before I can give you a proper fucking." Kyle warned as he pulled back and thrust his hips forward, forcing a whine from your lips.

Kyle kept the slow pace, making you go crazy, as you needed more, even though by now you didn't know how to voice it, going dumb on his cock.

You moved your ass back each time he thrust back into you.

"You need me to go faster love?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"Yes, faster. Need it." Came the jumbled words spilling from your lips.

That was all Kyle needed to plunge his cock over and over again into your hole, making you scream his name, not caring about if anyone could hear you.

You collapsed forward, turning your face towards the one phone, your mouth hanging open as he fucked you.

Kyle placed one foot on the bed, making him feel even deeper inside of you.

He was groaning behind you, but you couldn't make out what he was saying as you cried out his name as another orgasm was pulled from you.

Your pussy and ass squeezing the dildo and his cock as he fucked your ass through your orgasm.

You lost track and how much you have cum by the time Kyle stilled, flushed against your ass as he groaned, loudly as he filled your hole with cum.

He couldn't help himself as he pulled back just to push back in a few times.

Kyle pulled out and brought the phone down to watch as his cum leaked out of your stretched hole, the vibrating dildo still in your pussy.

"Mmmm, I like to see any of them top that." Kyle said, issuing another challenge to the final two.

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny's name came out like a prayer as you rode him. His strong hands gripping your waist, helping you set the pace which you both need.

You have nothing idea which angle he is filming the two of you from.

"It's a suprise." He told you as he wrapped your hair around his fist as he fucked your face earlier.

The remnants of that drying on your lips and chin. The taste of him still fresh on your tongue.

But that seemed like a distant memory as the tip of his cock seemed to be nudging your cervix, making sure you remember him for days after this.

Your third orgasm of the night already knocking at your door as you grinded in his lap.

"So deep." You cried out.

"Yeah I am love." Johnny said, smugly, as he braced his feet on the bed and started to thrust up into you, making you brace your hands on his chest, digging your nails into his skin, leaving little indents there.

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, flipping you the two of you over, so he is hovering above you.

Johnny leaned back, his cock still nestled inside your pussy, as he gripped your calves and pushed your legs towards your chest, making your eyes roll into the back of your head at the first hard thrust.

Your mouth hanging open as he fucked you at a rough, brutal pace that had your mouth fall open in a silent scream as he pulled another orgasm from you.

Your body shaking at how intense this orgasm is.

"Fuck." Johnny grunted as he pulled out, jerking his cock as stood up on the bed, to stand above you before sitting on his knees, which are now placed on either side of your head.

You take his balls in your mouth as he jerks his cock off above you.

Johnny is looking down at you, as you pull your mouth back from his balls, making a popping sound.

He moved down a bit just to place the tip of his cock on your tongue just as you closed your mouth around the tip.

Johnny's moans seemed to bounce off the walls as he came in your mouth, you quickly swallowing as fast as you can.

"Fuck me." He groaned as he got off the bed, grabbing a phone from one of his hiding places.

He trailed it up and down your body, until stopping at your face.

"Oh, you missed a bit there." Johnny said as he swiped his cum from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, placing it in your mouth as he closed your eyes, sucking his finger clean.

"Yes, that's it." Johnny said to you, tossing his phone to the side to go for another round.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

"Si," You couldn't even get his name out, your head leaning against his chest.

Your arms were reaching behind you, holding onto his neck, his hands spreading your thighs wide as his cock was nestled inside your pussy.

That is already sensitive due to Simon spending what felt like an eternity between your legs, making you cum on his and fingers twice.

All of a sudden, Simon stood up, his arms moving under your thighs, moving you up and down his cock, like you weighed nothing.

Simon moved the two of you, never once leaving your oussy as he halted in front of the full length mirror.

"Open your eyes." He grunted, you not even realising that your eyes were closed .

You forced your eyes open to watch as he moved you uo and down, his cock disappearing in and out of you.

You could see how wet you were as your juices coated his cock.

You couldn't believe that you could actually take all of him inside of you.

The others are big, but Simon, Simon is thick and long.

"Look at how well you take me, eh love."

He moved you up and down on his cock, faster and faster until you became almost limp on his arms as you came around his cock.

Simon quickly pulled out of you and turned you in his arms, before tossing you on the bed, you landing on your stomach.

Simon moved you onto your knees before grasping your hips and thrusting inside you once more before you could even blink.

Simon fucked you like there was no tomorrow, and you swear you blacked out every few moments.

"Yes, squeeze my cock lovie." Is what you heard as you woke up to you coming around his cock, him fucking you through your orgasm.

Simon changed the angle of his hips and was hitting that spot inside of you that had you screaming his name as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from your quivering body.

Simon finally stilled, his hips flushed against your ass as he came with a grunt.

His cum filling you as he smacked your ass a few times, making you yelp, and squeeze his cock with your pussy one final time.

"Shit love." Simon groaned as he pulled out of you.

You collapsing on the bed, not watching where he was walking too.

You felt your phone land next to you, and you could see the screen lighting up from the group chat.

They were each asking the same question.

'Who fucked you better?'

[marcsburnerphone]

Bars and broken hearts

Simon Riley x F!reader 

Summary: The 141 minus john goes out for drinks and when johnny decides to throw simon a spontaneous bachelor surprise it goes left quickly.

Warnings: angst, betrayal, infidelity?, guilt, heartbreak, not a happy ending, alcohol consumption, lmk if I’m missing anything.

—-----------------

“Well I think you should go.” you say to your fiance who's currently trying to back out of plans he promised to attend with his mates, again.

“Why can't you just beg me to stay isn’t that what you’re are supposed to do.” he says in a whine although with a gruff voice like his only you could pick up on the slight change.

“And hear Johnny complain in my ear the next time I see him cause you’re never out of the house, yeah no thanks.” you say while stirring honey into your cup of tea. You can practically feel the holes his eyes are burning into your skull.

“You know they are always up to no good when we go out.” he says in a condescending tone.

“I trust you.” he has never given you a reason not to.

“You should they’d never let anything come between us, they love you more than me.” he says while slowly approaching you from the back planting a firm kiss to your cheek.

“So you’ll be attending then?” you say gleefully.

“Yeah, just this once though, gives me leeway to say no next time.” you laugh softly, simon and his thought out plans to get out of leaving home.

“I'll drop you off, don't look too good.” you say turning around, he gives you a strong kiss on the lips, tangling his large hand into your hair as his other hand squeezes gently at your ass groaning roughly as he hikes your thigh onto his waist.

“Yeah, nice try.” you say pushing him away reluctantly.

“Sure you don’t want me to stay?” You do want him to stay.

“I’m sure.” he groans, walking off into your shared bedroom carelessly pulling a black shirt and pants off a hanger, nearly snapping them.

You laugh to yourself taking a seat onto the couch as he noticeably makes his steps extra heavy on his way to the bathroom. You patiently wait for him, swiping mindlessly through social media.

“Right, I'm ready.” his voice slightly startles you and he quickly softens his attitude.

“If you would’ve kissed me looking like this i might’ve just kept you in.” you sigh into his mouth pulling him down for a kiss.

“Later I arrive, the later I leave, let's go.” you drive him to a pub not too far from your home. His hand squeezes at your thigh the whole way there until you arrive.

“I'll see you in a bit, I love you.” the corner of his mask lifts slightly.

“Better not be late for me doll, I love you more by the way.” he says while shutting the door waving you off.

—----------

“Aww where’s the lass?” Johnny questions still mostly sober.

“At home she said she’ll join next time.” Simon lies, you hate babysitting three 200 pound plus men after a long night.

“Tell her I promise to not empty my stomach in her car next time, I swear it.” soap says while ordering a round of shots.

“Like she’d believe that after the past TWO times.” Johnny looks remorseful as Gaz laughs then gags remembering what it was like to sit in the backseat with him.

“I feel like we're going to get into some trouble tonight.” Johnny says while downing his third shot early into the night. “When is a night with you not trouble?” gaz says to the two men smiling widely.

“When is a night with me not fun you mean.” Johnny says with a devilish smirk.

“Chaos you mean?.” Simon quips.

“All of those sound like a good time to me.” Johnny says while waving down the bartender again.

—------

“You’ll be approaching married life soon.” Johnny says with slightly slurred speech.

“Indeed I will.” It makes a tipsy drunk Simon smile as he lifts the bottom of his mask to take a swig of the whiskey in his glass.

“Think you’ll be having little ones running around soon?” gaz asks, he could see the big scary ghost with a daughter or two. Simon smoothens his mask before talking.

“Maybe, me and miss talk about it sometimes but nothing ever too serious, she’d make a great mum though.” The boys love just how in love he is with you.

“Will you name one of em after me?” Johnny asks.

“Funny joke mate.” They all laugh.

“Lass we’ll take another round.” heads snap towards him.

“Johnny!” Both simon gaz exclaim their nearly 8 shots in each and a couple of other drinks the result of tonight's starting to sound like alcohol poisoning.

“What’s wrong with a little fun once in a while.”

—---------

“I miss my wife.” Simon says, eyes glossed over and a severe need to taste your mouth. 

“Will we be throwing you a bachelor party?” Simon scoffs.

“This is my bachelor party, enjoy it.” Johnny groans at his awfully boring best lad.

“I have to take a piss be back.” Johnny says, excusing himself. Gaz and simon give each other a look knowing full well he went to the mens room less than ten minutes ago.

“What’s that about?” Gaz asks.

“Don't know but ima text the missus to come save me.” Simon says whipping out his phone instantly happier by the picture of you on his lock screen.

After sending you a quick text he agrees to one more round as Johnny rejoins, what he doesn't notice is as he tossed his head back Johnny slipped his phone into the back pockets of his jeans mistaking it for his own.

“Why do you look like that?” Gaz questions the mischievous smirk on Johnny's face.

“No reason.” 

“Oh no johnny what’d you do.'' They follow his eyeline as a woman, definitely a hooker walk from the hall where the bathrooms are definitely heading towards them. 

“Hey boys.” she says, running a hand down Simon's chest.

—----------

You’ve tried simons phone nearly six times now and nearly circled this block three times to let him know you’re here. You call once more groaning loudly as the voicemail starts once again. You search the busy street for parking, getting lucky as a car pulls out from the front of the pub.

You step out into the chilly london air not caring to pay for parking this shouldn't be long anyways. It's busier than you’d ever seen it, you wrap your arms tightly around yourself considering you're in thin pajamas, Simon emits too much heat to sleep in anything else.

Finding your way to the bar knowing where they usually sit you keep your eyes peeled for him excited to get him home and finish what he started earlier. That's until you see him. You see her first actually, snaking her hands around the back of his clothed head where yours were merely hours ago. His eyes are pointed towards her breast as she puts on quite the show, grinding slowly on his lap, flicking her tongue out onto his cloth covered ear. Simon’s hazed eyes are seeing you, like a dual reality that goes back and forth between a random woman and the woman he loves. Words are unable to leave your mouth so you stand there in utter horror until reality catches up to you.

“Simon.” your voice comes out in a whisper as the three men's heads turn towards you. The woman who looked like she’d been having a good time on Simon's lap also looks towards you, then the ring on your finger. The three of them had never become sober so fast in their lives.

“Oh god.” you feel sick, turning around quickly and bee lining for the door as your eyes tunnel vision.

“Get off me.” Simon says awfully harshly as Gaz looks disappointed towards johnny.

He’s after you in seconds, strides long and quick. You're at an arm's length when he tries to pull you back but misses by a thread. Times moving in slow motion for the both of you and this pub has never been so large.

“Wait, I swear that wasn't what it looked like.” His deep and loud voice causes the other patrons to look your way. Gaz and Johnny are steps behind him as he rushes as quickly as he can.

When the outside hits you, so do the tears. Your hand grips weakly at the spot of your shirt above your heart. It feels like the wind has been knocked from you and the world is crumbling around you. 

“Love i swear-” you turn around quickly slapping him across the face. It stuns you but not him; he simply looks back towards you.

“Deserved that.” 

“Lass it was a dumb joke i thought id-” 

“You were supposed to have my back, you guys are like my brothers, is this how it is everytime you come out?” a sob racks through you as they all visibly watch your heart break.

“It's not like that.” Simon tries to calmly explain.

“I'm leaving.” you say slowly walking backwards towards your car getting in quickly and locking the doors before your fiance can try the handle.

“Love, just listen to me i didn't know what was going on.” he shouts through the window as you start pulling out and speeding off as soon as possible.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” he yells to johnny.

“I don't know what I was thinking.” he admits as his drunk actions hit his sober self.

“You need to get a ride home now.” gaz says walking into the street to hail down an overly expensive taxi.

Simon gets in it immediately telling the man your address and slipping him a few extra hundred for speed. His breath is rapid matching the racing pace of his heart. The two other men watch as he leaves.

“You’re so fucked mate.” Gaz says to an already guilty looking johnny.

—--------------------

Simon nearly tears off the door handle as he exits the car almost two homes ahead and runs there instead. He’s fumbling keys until he realizes you’ve left the door unlocked. Instantly he's searching for you, panicked and in a hurry to soothe your aching heart.

He goes to reach for your shut bedroom door only to realize it's locked. He knocks rapidly once then twice.

“Love let me explain. I swear it's not what it looked like.” he leans his head against the door as you silently cry on the other side.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” wrong choice of words but he meant well.

Before he knows it you're throwing the door open.

“To myself!” you yell as loudly as you can, shoving your hands into his solid chest.

“That's not what I meant.” he says, removing the mask.

“We’re engaged Simon, we were going to get married in a few months.” you cry turning around trying to slam the door on him.

“Were ? No, let me explain.” he says, catching it with the toe of his boot.

“I don't want to hear it, go tell it to whoever that woman was.” you’re infuriating he wants to scream but he knows all hell would break loose had he caught you in the same position.

“Johnny had hired her, I had no idea.” he gets out as quickly as possible.

“And you let her dance and lick on you and hold you the way I hold you.” the disgust on your face as you look at him cuts deeper than any knife.

“I was drunk.” he even thinks that sounds disgusting.

“Cheap fucking excuse.” you say going into your closet grabbing all your clothes and throwing it onto the bed.

“What’re you doing?” it's hushed and laced with panic.

“Leaving.” 

“Like hell you are.” he says quickly, fighting to pull what's in your hands out of them. You’re unwilling to give up at first, grip tighter than ever but he would always win. You fall to the ground and let go. Crying from hurt and frustration. He drops to his knees to meet you on the floor.

He scoops you into his chest as closely as possible, it hurts that you don’t clutch onto him like you normally would. You Are stiff in his arms so visibly uncomfortable. He wants to cry too, he knew he shouldn’t have gone out there's no need when your heart is at home.

“Let go of me.” you say weakly.

“Lets talk.” he says, loosening his grip on you watching as you scurry backwards.

“Nothing you say can make this better.” you admit leaning your head against the wall behind you.

“It wasn't my idea or choice, my love I was wasted.”

“I was waiting outside for you, calling over and over again but you were just too busy being entertained by another woman, how fucking dare you.” you say quietly but firmly.

“I know I fucked up but we cant throw this away just cause one mishap.” he says trying to inch closer to you.

“I would’ve never done that to you.” you say as tears stream smoothly down your reddened cheeks.

“I know.” how does one forgive an action like this he wonders.

“Please get out.” you say through stuttered breaths.

“Love-” 

“Simon, get out or I'll leave.” He rises to his feet in an instance beginning to very slowly make his ways towards the door.

“Hey simon.” you say and his name sounds so rare on your tongue since you've met him he's always been riley or love.

“Yeah.” he says, approaching you crouching down slightly. You reach out, grabbing his hand and placing something into his palm before closing it.

Simon slowly opens his hands fearing what he already knows is there and utterly cringes inside when he sees your ring.

--------------

excited but ready for a little criticism, be easy on me I'm barley getting familiar with the character.

Hope you guys thoroughly enjoyed mwah!

[scoobywrites690]

Poly141 who have to take serious thought over what order people get to fuck you in. they obviously cant all fuck you in one night as it's just to much for your poor little cunt to take (and trust me they've tried) so they've gotta put serious thought into who's fucking you tonight and in what order.

they know from experience that Price cant go first as his main focus during sex is your pleasure over his so, by the time he's done with you your too overstimulated to take anymore.

Ghost is way too big to go first and if he does he's gotta spend a chunk of that time stretching out your tight little cunt on his thick fingers before he can even think about bullying his cock inside of you.

Soap cums way too quickly for him to even begin to stretch you out for the others, you aren't even able to reach an orgasm yourself before hot thick ropes of his cum are shooting inside of you.

and Gaz likes to take his time with you, to tease you, to fill you with pleasure and just when you're at your breaking point he rips it away, causing you to whine out as your body squirms underneath him. now this wouldn't be a big deal if he didn't have multiple other men waiting to get their fill. and making them wait for something they so desperately desire isn't the best idea (again another thing they know from experience)

So, it's really quite a struggle for these men to come up with a solution for an order. I'm sure they'll figure it out eventually.

I haven't proof read yet so i apologise for mistakes <3

[ghouljams]

Laying against Price's chest while he holds your legs open. Thick fingers spreading your drenched folds for his men to see as the rest of the 141 crowds close, voices overlapping.

"Can ah taste?"

"Look at it drip."

"Looser than I thought it'd be."

Price chuckling, the vibration of it shaking through your chest, his fingers dipping into your wet cunt to spread your hole for their inspection.

"You get to pick who goes first sweet'eart." He murmurs low in your ear. Though really you're choosing who goes second, Price already had his fill, had to make sure you were ready for the gleam in his boys eyes...

[dmitriene]

continuation to this work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

main masterlist. quidelines.

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141... "tell me you need me" and/or " I don't want you to stop"

Okay. Okay okay okay okay. When I first read this prompt, I genuinely thought I would write something really sweet and soft. But I also have free will. I am an independent individual. I make the choices here. Are they sweet? Yes. Are they soft? A bit. Is this mostly spice? Yes. Yes it is. I will not ask forgiveness.

Presented in four double drabbles.

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

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, non-descriptive sex, praise, fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

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

John Price

“Say it, love. I want to hear you say it.”

Everything in you is buzzing. It is loud, as if a hive of bees dwells beneath your skin. Each touch John gives you is electric. A zing of pleasure that rockets outward until the tips of your fingers and toes tingle.

“You don’t play fair,” you whine, sinking against him, surrendering to his touch.

“Never do,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.

You reach up to touch him, to hook your arm around the back of his neck. You need to anchor yourself before you fall over the edge. His fingers are expert things, moving in little circles between your legs. It is agony. And so very sweet.

John seizes your wrist. Brings your arm back to your side.

“No,” he says. “You can’t have that yet.”

“Why not?”

John’s lips brush against your throat. “Tell me you need me. Say it and I’ll give you what you want.” He lightly bites. “Promise.”

You swallow hard. The words are forming, but they are only air. Slipping away with each stroke of his fingers.

John pauses. And that sets you off instantly.

“I need you, John,” you gasp.

“That’s my girl.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle’s fingers thread lightly through your hair. It’s a gentle touch. One that sends a shiver through you.

Your hands roam, touching everywhere. There is skin beneath your fingers. It is taut, slick with water from the shower. Kyle is warm too like a good blanket. You could wrap yourself up in him.

Kyle returns to your hair, working in the shampoo. You close your eyes and sink into the feeling. He has one arm around your waist as if you’ll run off.

“Don’t stop,” you moan. “That feels good.”

Kyle’s soft laugh comes from behind you, and then he guides you under the spray, washing away the shampoo.

“Need to get the rest of you,” he purrs, those strong hands of his grasping your waist, spinning you around to face him. “Where should I start first?”

He traces one finger along your jaw and down the side of your throat only to descend to collarbone and the curve of your breast. He goes lower. Lower still.

You grasp his wrist, arching into his touch.

“Here?” he asks with a smug smile.

You’re needy. And his hand between your legs is bliss.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you reply.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Oh. Fu—fuck, love. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Johnny groans loudly above you, his head tilted back in ecstasy. Behind you, the television is on but the sound is muted. It bathes the bedroom in a blueish glow. Johnny isn’t paying attention, and you’re not either.

You are settled between his legs, your mouth full of him.

This is a craving. A vice. Johnny is always the one giving. He loves to do it. Loves to shower you with affection and as much pleasure as you can handle. But you have the control now. You’re the one making him squirm. Making him writhe and whimper.

It’s lovely this feeling. The power is perfect.

No wonder Johnny loves doing this so much.

He groans again, the arm next to his side, fist clenched. His other hand rises, and tentatively brushes against your scalp. Johnny’s eyes are closed. You’re not sure if he even knows what he’s doing.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, almost absently, as if speaking to the air.

You continue. Tasting.

His hand against your scalp strengthens, fingers tangling in your hair. His grip is fierce.

“Don’t stop,” he repeats. “Don’t want you to stop.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“That’s not what you say. You know this, love.”

Simon grasps your chin between thumb and forefinger. He squeezes slightly, tipping upward. You are unable to look away. Unable to move. Those dark eyes with pale eyelashes drive a spear through your heart every time.

It’s maddening.

You lick your lips and Simon follows the movement. He examines your mouth, and then his thumb brushes against the underside of your bottom lip. It sends a little shiver through you. Simon is powerful. Strong. He could easily break you, and yet he can be so gentle.

“I’m not gonna ask again.” Simon draws you closer and leans forward as if to kiss you. He doesn’t though, simply holds there, awaiting an answer.

He won’t give you what you’re seeking just yet. Not until you say the magic words.

“Tell me you need me,” he murmurs.

That is all Simon wants. To be desired. To be needed. He loves to hear it from your lips, especially like now when the two of you are tangled in each other. Other times, it’s simple things like reaching something on the top shelf.

And you will tell him.

You always do.

“I need you, Simon.”

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[oceantornadoo]

ch5 the wrong john | masterlist | next

tw: mild dubcon masturbation that turns consensual

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

—

The rest of lunch passes in a John Price-induced blur.

Johnny, Kyle, and you keep the conversation flowing while Simon adds in a dad joke here and there. John just stares.

The team seems to notice his lack of conversation, questioning eyes flitting to each other with concern for their captain. Even Johnny asks if he’s okay, and John just says “Long night,” and takes a pull of his beer. You try not to watch the muscles of his neck move as the drink works down his throat, only looking away when you’ve been caught staring. “Long nights” seems to be a good excuse as any for this group, as there’s a collective understanding in the eyes of the men around you. You want to jump into John’s lap and ask him why it feels the way it does with him. Why it couldn’t just have been a regular hookup. You want to pound on his chest and ask why he had to be your brother’s captain, why you can’t just have this one thing, this one person, for yourself. Instead, you smile and nod your way through the longest lunch of your life.

Once you get back to base, Johnny shows you around his haunts. The barracks (“How do you and Ghost fit in one bed?”) make you wonder where John sleeps. Does he have his own room? You quickly banish the thought. Instead, you dedicate the rest of your time to your brother, the right John, nodding at his thoughts and laughing at his stories. Ghost bobs in and out, and after you make a particularly funny joke, he tells you to call him Simon. You see why Johnny’s enraptured by him - once you have his attention, it’s like basking in the sun. The thought of Simon as a future brother-in-law fills your heart with hope.

Your flight is early the next morning, the pass on your phone burning a hole in your pocket. Johnny decides to come back to your hotel for one last sleepover, so you say your goodbyes to the rest of the men before you leave. It’s a long hug for Kyle and a quick one for Simon (with a squeeze to your shoulder). With John, you try for a handshake but he pulls you in for a hug, your hand awkwardly squished between you two. 

“Get back safe, yeah?” You nod against him and just breathe for a second, memorizing his scent of pine and musk. And then it’s over, Johnny arranging for someone to drop the two of you back at your hotel, rushed footsteps to leave before traffic hits. The three men walk you out, standing at the edge of base while Johnny talks about an ice cream shop he wants to take you to. You allow yourself a singular look back, just a second to meet John’s eyes and trade a small smile, before being shoved into a car with your twin at your side.

On the way back, your hand fishes for your phone in your pockets. Instead, you find a slip of paper. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what it is, but you have to restrain yourself from peeking at what he wrote.

You and Johnny end up getting ice cream and bringing it back to your hotel room, watching trashy reality TV shows in your bed like old times. The note is still in your coat, currently flung over a chair, but you tell yourself you can only look once you’re alone.

“So.” Johnny turns to you with a grin that spells trouble. 

“So?”

“Ye spent a lot of time w’ Kyle.”

“He’s nice!”

“C’mon, hen. Ah ken he’s pretty.”

“That’s not- no. We’re just friends, there’s nothing there.” He shakes his head, settling back into the pillows. “Well Price is too old an’ jaded, and ah ken some others that are out of the question, so it’s just Kyle f’ ye, hen.” You nudge him, then tuck yourself against his shoulder. “What about you and me?” You whisper. “Yer right. ‘s you an’ me.” He’s quiet in thought. “I like Simon. He’s sweet.” You murmur. He rubs his fist against the top of your head until you squeal and push him away. “Me, you, an’ Simon, then.” You tell yourself it’s enough and focus on that thought until your plane leaves.

-

The minute you get home, your phone rings. Bags still in hand, you answer it without looking at the screen, having a feeling it’s your overbearing twin. “I literally just texted you five minutes ago. You’re such a mother hen.” Instead of answering, Johnny’s silent on the other side. You drop a bag and glance at the screen, an unfamiliar number blinking back at you. 

“Who is this?”

“Good flight, sweetheart? Saw you got delayed a bit.” His baritone is smooth and sends a shiver down your spine. 

“John? What- how’d you get my number?”

“That’s need-to-know.” He looked in Johnny’s file. You wonder what else he saw, how uneven the playing field is now.

“Well I need to know why you’re calling me. And how you know my flight was delayed.” You start making your way through your apartment, dragging your suitcase to your room and unpacking. “Don’t worry about it, had to know you were safe.” You hum, taking your time to answer. “Ok. I’m safe. That it?” He’s quiet on the other end, the sounds of you unpacking filling the silence. “Tell me about your flight, sweetheart.” It’s almost a whisper and you imagine him in his office, calling you after a long day. Your treacherous heart flutters once again.

“It was okay. I tried to sleep but there was this toddler behind me who kept kicking. I was about to commit a felony, I swear, John. But the flight attendant was nice, think she saw me struggling and slipped me an extra cookie. I started this show, don’t think you’ve heard of it…” You ramble on as you unpack, starting a laundry load and putting your toiletries away. John hums and grumbles on the other end, chuckling once in a while at a particular anecdote. 

You find yourself wanting to please him with every word, trying to up the ante on funny instances and go further into detail on mundane activities. You tell him about the car ride home and how the rain streaked your window, how you need to go over to your neighbor’s and get your plant back since they plant-sat. You dig out your headphones so you can feel the groan of his voice, pick up his breath on the other end. He tells you about an annoying fellow captain he had to deal with, how he didn’t have time to get lunch so he had to eat the mess hall food. How Kyle got himself into a love triangle with two of the base nurses and is trying to escape it by pleading to go on a mission. Some of his information is probably confidential, but he seems so trusting of you that he doesn’t care. When you order your takeaway online, you glance at the screen and realize you’ve been talking for two hours. A smile starts, but you quickly remember the reasons you can’t be together. Your brother, mainly.

“John, I have to go.” He sighs on the other end. “I’ve been done with my paperwork for half an hour, sweetheart. Jus’ been in my office when I could’ve left already. Didn’t stop me from talkin’.” Ugh. He’s so annoyingly sweet and condescending at the same time. “I’m sorry, I just- I need to eat dinner. You should too. Thanks for calling.” You hang up before he can reel you back in, turning off your phone before digging into your food. You settle into a trashy TV show, the same one you watched with your brother, and try to forget about John Price. In a moment of weakness, you find the note he left in your pocket. It’s his number and a message. Call me if you need anything. Still call me if you don’t. 

He worms his way into your routine. He doesn’t call every night, but when he does, it’s for hours. You talk about your childhood, his father, your mother, the messy lines of family. He’s on the phone when you find a cat in the dumpster of your apartment and you learn how he used to have a dog. He was engaged once, when he was a rookie, and your breath catches to think of how everything could have turned out differently. Weeks pass by and all you do is talk, his voice following you into your dreams. You almost forget that you hooked up with him, all his conversation never referencing it once. Until you bring it up.

In the week before your period, desperation sinks its claws into you. You’re hornier than usual, thoughts turning to John almost every hour. He hasn’t called you today, and you usually think nothing of it, but now you’re tossing and turning in bed, needing him.

“Sweetheart? You ok?” You almost never call first so you understand the shock in his voice. “Hi John. I’m fine, just wanted to talk. Wanted to hear your voice.” You can hear him driving even though it’s late and you wonder where he’s coming from. A night out? A date? There’s so much you don’t know.

“You in bed? Got a story f’ you, this one new sergeant on base…” His tone turns low and soft. You can’t help the hand that travels down your body. You squeeze your tits as he talks about yelling at a recruit, imagining how anger brings out the lines on his face. Your hand travels down to your mound, fingers running back and forth between your slit, the gathering wetness making it an easy journey. John’s still talking, but he notes how breathy your voice is, how all you’re doing is humming. “Sweetheart?” You stop to catch your breath, almost whining at the pet name. “John?” He’s quiet on the other end, the sound of his car turning off echoing through your ear.

“You touching y’self, baby?” You nod, then remember he can’t see. “Maybe.” He swears under his breath, unlocking and relocking his apartment door. “Give me a second, pet. Just five.” You wait patiently at his command, fingers sticky under your pajamas. 

“Alright. How y’ feelin’, baby?” You whine loudly. “I miss you. Is that weird?” He chuckles on the other side, the sound of a zipper loud and clear. “‘s not weird. Don’t get shy now, spread y’r legs an’ tell me what you’re doin’.” Your face flushes at the command. 

“I’m touching myself.”

“Touchin’ where, baby? Gimme a picture.”

You sigh. Here goes nothing. “Touching my cunt. I used my vibrator earlier but…” You trail off, rubbing faster at the sound of John breathing. “But wasn’t enough, right? Y’r cunt’s missin’ me. Tell ‘er I miss her too.” Your fingers find your clit, circling slowly. Your core aches viscerally at the memory of your night with John.

“You touchin’ y’r clit now?” You moan at how straightforward he is. “Yes. John, fuck.” He chuckles in your ear. “Put me on speaker an’ squeeze y’r tits, baby. Make ‘em nice an’ pointed f’ me.” You do as he says, laying the phone near your ear so your other hand can caress your nipples. They’re sore, begging for attention. A whine escapes you at the first squeeze, and John matches it with a moan on the other end. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I fuck my fist, pet. Thinkin’ ‘bout how soft ya were for me. What I’m goin’ to do to ya next time.” His accent gets stronger as he continues, the wet slap of his cock in his hand barely coming through the speaker. You rub harder at his words, thinking of how his abs tensed when you rode him in the hotel. How he gripped you hard, whispering commands in your ear. Your orgasm comes fast and easy, your body finally giving you release as you moan. 

“Fuck, baby.” John’s gruff on the other end and you can hear him stop as he comes too. You imagine him coming in you instead of pulling out, how it would feel to be filled completely. “Jesus, sweetheart. You make me feel decades younger with this shit.” A laugh barks out of you unbidden. “I’ll take that as a compliment, John. I haven’t done this in a while either.” The silence is sacred between you, your breaths syncing. 

“Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

A week passes with no contact. Then two. Then three. Johnny hasn’t called either. You’re a bit worried, but your new cat takes up most of your time. There’s a knock at your door when you’re trying to wrangle her into her new carrier to see if she likes it. You let her win, this time, and move to the door. “Coming!” There’s no reply. You open the door slightly, half for safety reasons and half because your cat is a runner, and your jaw drops. It’s him. 

“John, I- what? What are you doing here?” You open the door for him, smiling to yourself. He came for you. You turn to kiss him, something you’ve been dreaming of for over a month now, but he stops you with a hand to your forearm. “Sweetheart, we need to talk. It’s about your brother.” Your heart drops. “What about him?” John takes a deep breath, shutting your door before he answers.

“He’s missing.”

-

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[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse

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

Word count: 1705

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tojisun]

kyle the pussy eater champion. sucks on your clit, but also your folds. swipes the tip of his tongue along your slit in a teasing way, before pressing the thick width of it flat on your cunt, putting pressure on your g-spot. and god, he’s so loud too :(

kyle calls you his pretty girl, his beautiful baby. his sweetheart, his delicious canary. he calls your slick “honey,” and says it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and that he’s always gonna be starved now because you’ve gotten him addicted.

you claw at his his scalp with your nails amidst your pleasure, so dizzying you always kick your legs out only to be stopped by his palms falling on the inside of your thighs and pressing down to subdue you. kyle’s unfazed by the prickles of your nails, too enamoured by your pussy and dedicated on slurping all your slick.