#pairing: kyle garrick x reader
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Oh my GOD, this is so fucking cute. Got me kicking legs in the air and shit, honestly. I remember when I first got into the COD fandom that there was a drought of Gaz fics unless he was in like one of those pieces/headcanons that involved the other characters. Not that thereâs anything wrong with them, but I basically resigned myself to the fact that I would probably never get to see many full-length fics with him.
But then you bestow this beauty, this wonderful, wonderful piece and Iâm absolutely melting. I think my Gaz obsession is coming back in full force. Reading this is like being wrapped up in a nice, warm blanket on a cold day. Itâs so nice to see Gaz where thereâs as much fluff involved as you would see with any of the other COD characters. I think this read is my new guilty pleasure.
hello love! can i make a request for gaz x f!reader she a civilian and a florist and he keeps visiting her and they slowly fall for each other and he calls her his sunflower or something cute like that? you can make up the rest, sorry if itâs not super detailed!
Gossamer Silk Smiles
Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Florist!Reader
Synopsis: You loved your job more than anything, and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well. You were focused; self-assured... Until he showed up.Â
Word Count: 6.1k
Warnings: Insane amount of fluff, this is the definition of a soft fic, beginning of a relationship
A/N: I know this man would treat me right. Also changed the nickname around a bit, but sunflowers are still prominent. Enjoy, Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
When you opened your flower shop, you told yourself there was no going back â no distractions or second options. This was what you loved more than anything and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well.Â
Until he showed up.Â
It had been a shitty day, one for the record books, in your opinion. Shipments for Larkspur, Zinnias, and Sunflowers had come to the shop damaged. The boxes had been so beaten up you half-believed the mail carrier had gotten into a personal disagreement with them. All initial humor aside, you were now out of this week's product as well as a good chunk of money â the flowers couldnât even be considered that anymore, seeing as they were really just broken stems and stray crumpled pedals. Then came the unusual amount of rude customers and the building of minor inconveniences.Â
But to your credit, you didnât let it get to you.Â
WellâŠexternally, at least.Â
âHave a great rest of your day,â you force out with a strained smile to an older woman who only huffs. She stalks out of the shop with a vase full of Daylilies, Purple Cornflowers, Yarrow, and Taro leaves. âI hope your brother gets well soonââ The glass door shuts with a clatter of the small silver bell attached to the frame.Â
Leaning back on your heels, your eyes close; taking down a deep breath, you hope your lungs won't explode in your chest as you hold it there.Â
âFucking hell.â The air flies from you in a weak groan.Â
Your fingers tap against the countertop, and a small, humorless, chuckle later youâre walking out to change the window sign to closed instead of open. It was well past your usual shift anyways, but the previous customer had been relentless about the âperfect bouquet.â
âLike thereâs even such a thing,â your lips twist into an annoyed frown as you speak to yourself in a grumble. â...Should have just denied her service⊠Didnât even leave a tip.âÂ
You really wouldnât have minded helping her that much if she had just been kinder towards you.
Grabbing the small paper sign held up by a suction-cup hook, you flip it around with little thought, already trying to plan out a way to make up for the weeks worth of ruined product. You donât even notice the man speeding down the sidewalk until his desperate face is staring right into yours â only separated by a thin piece of glass.Â
Yelping, your shoulders tense at the sudden visage.Â
The man was around your age, tall, and had a handsome face inlaid with eyes reminiscent of deep amber. Light reflected off the iris in ways you can only describe as the glinting sun does off waves of water; gentle. Nearly soft, really. He was wearing a ball cap with an embroidered British flag on the front and had a panicked look set on his lips.Â
Close to the door handle, his long fingers freeze mid-air and you find the prominent muscular build and set of his shoulders staining the back of your eyelids like a movie screen. Whoever this guy was, it didnât stray from the fact that he was attractive.
Youâre not happy about it, but your mind blanks as you stare with wide eyes; heart steady in your breast.Â
He blinks at you, square jaw loose, also double-taking from beyond the see-through barrier. His flickering eyes flew quickly over your form just as you had ogled him moments prior.Â
Silly, perhaps, and childish at best, but you felt your throat tighten with stilled breath. There was a small chunk of time that you both just gawked at each other â as if Cupid had suddenly stabbed you both with one of his blots; gazes inexplicably locked as blood dripped to the floor from copper arrowheads.
If you were more gullible, you would have called it love at first sight. But you were anything but that.Â
Sighing, you rip your eyes away and take a breath. Opening the door with more questions than answers, you were praying that it didnât get dark before you could help this man with whatever it is that he needed.Â
I can see the fucking veins on his forearms. You think as the chilled air hits your face, recalling the peek you sent to the rolled-up sleeves of this strangerâs blue button-down.Â
The bell above you dings as you set the door in the crook of your shoulder, leaning out halfway. Clearing your throat, you ask steadily, âCan I help you, SirâŠ?âÂ
He sets his stubbled jaw, vision snapping to the side for a split second that was so fast you almost missed it.Â
âErmâŠmy apologies, Maâam, for rushing up like that.â He lets off a chuckle, and the flag on his hat is quickly explained away by the prominent accent. âHope I didnât worry you.âÂ
Fighting the uptick of your lips you feel your chest let go of a sliver of tension. He was smiling slightly at you, the khaki pants he wears creasing as his feet set themselves; his brown eyes never leave your face.Â
Respectful, you think.
âNot every day you have people trying to barge into a flower shop. Trust me, Sir, I sleep well knowing no one wants to rob me.â Attempting a light joke, the stranger's chest jerks in a silky laugh. The tips of your ears heat, the blood under your skin rushing.Â
His laugh was like a blanket during a storm; a cup of hot chocolate during a blizzard. Could you be attracted to a laugh? You seemed to ask yourself. Already your mind was coming up blank at this, all of a sudden, welcome intrusion.Â
âWell, Iâd imagine thatâs a good thing, then?â He teases showing off pearly white teeth.
âIncredibly.â Opening the door wider, you beam. âYouâre lucky I was still here. Iâd normally be all locked up by now.â
You should be closing â telling this stranger to leave and come back tomorrow â but something inside of you told you to just open the door. It was illogical, unprofessional, and downright strenuous on your already foul moodâŠbut this individual had such an air to him that you wondered who exactly he was. He made your skin pule with goosebumps.
âThanks,â the man utters as he slips inside, nodding his head to you and fixing the position of his hat with one hand. âYeahâŠIâm incredibly sorry about this but Iâm runninâ on a bit of a time crunch, to be honest with you. Iâve been checking every shop in town â youâre the only one with the lights still onâŠâ He looks to you, âI really hope Iâm not causing any trouble for you, Maâam.â
Slipping your fingers into your work apronâs pockets, you let the door shut and tilt your head to the side, gaze softening at the pure candor of his words.Â
âEmergency flower orders are always my favorites to work on. Itâs no problem, really.â You say your name as an introduction and ask what he would like to purchase as he scratches at the back of his neck with a boyish twist to his lips.Â
âKyle Garrick.â He sticks out his hand and you shake it instantly. Kyleâs hands are warm despite the cold weather outside, and you have to stop yourself from melting into him as you pull back. But already your skin tingles. âActually, I was wondering if you might be able to help me on that front. What flowers would be the best for an apology?âŠjust not something too flashy, if thatâs possible.âÂ
He trails with an awkward chuff, obviously not used to being in a flower shop before. You wondered if he even had a favorite flower. You hoped he did.
You could really tell a lot about someone based on the types of flora they surrounded themselves with.
âApology?â You wonder, tilting your head. Quickly falling into work mode, you continue, âI can work with that. Do you have any preferences? Colors?â
âWell, she likes orange, yeah?â He speaks and your heart sputters for a moment. Smile freezing. âI donât suppose thatâll help very much, but itâs really all I have to go off of. Iâm a bit of a hopeless bastard when it comes to flowers.â Kyle lets off a huff of laughter.
She. Of course, heâs already in a relationship.Â
Nodding, you swiftly walk past the man, catching the scent of fresh-tilled earth and rainy grass as your shoulders nearly brush. You canât help but feel a little disappointed. It wasnât every day you found yourself attracted to someone. But, oh well, life continues on.
âWell,â heading towards the wall baskets, your body feels heavy, but you quickly force it to the side. You really shouldnât be surprised. âYou said orange? I have about seven you can pick from.â
âAffirmitiâerm, yes, Maâam.â Â
âHm.â You hear him come up behind you, following at a respectful distance. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you watch as his eyes slide over the various types of flowers, all separated by color, with deep thought.Â
A slight furrow was in his dark brow. His dedication was adorable.Â
âWhatâs this one called?â Kyle asks, moving around you to a bushel of orange poppies and accidentally bumping into your side.Â
Grunting, you lightly jerk forward until a hand swiftly grabs your shoulder. Eyelashes fluttering, you look up with shock at the embarrassed face slightly leaning over you.Â
âShit, Iâm sorry. Thatâs my bad.âÂ
âN-no, youâre fine.â God, this was so awkward. Smiling shakily, you feel the press of his hand over your skin, separated only by the thin barrier of your shirt. Kyle squeezes your flesh before letting go.Â
He was staring at you, though. Brown eyes set into dark skin with a soft expression like Pygmalion staring at his marble-wrought Galatea. But as quickly as it was there, the look was gone and the man was clearing his throat, snapping his neck back to the basket and shifting his feet.
Even if you couldnât explicitly see it, you knew he was blushing â just the same as the heat in your capillaries mirrored. Swallowing to get rid of the dryness of your throat, you realize youâve been gawking before sliding your hands into your pockets and quickly looking away.Â
Why wonât my heart stop beating so fast?
âThose are Orange Poppies. Papaver orientale.â Speaking, you reach forward and grab the stem of a single bloom holding it to him as he gazes down at you from your side. âCommon in âget well soonâ bouquets, if you were curious.âÂ
Holding it up to him, you watch his fingers delicately pluck it from you like the flower was made of glass. It nearly made you laugh, but you settled on a small smile instead.Â
âItâs prettyâŠâ Kyle pauses, and you read it well enough.
â...But not what you were looking for.â Settling on the answer, you giggle when he passes off a sheepish smile and a nod. âI kind of guessed. Here â how about this.âÂ
He ends up buying a handful of orange Tulips, Myrtle leaf for greenery, and a small gathering of Babyâs-Breath. Behind the counter, you try to stay focused on setting the flora perfectly in the clear vase as your clippers lay beside it. Frowning, you take the long stem of a Tulip and snip the end at an angle, placing it to the far left of the rest with a concentrated set of your eyebrows.Â
âSo,â Kyle says, breaking the silence, and your fingers twitch as your spell is shattered. Soul stilling, you look up at him as he waits on the other side of the counter with his arms comfortably crossed. He leans back on his heels, feet shoulder-length apart. âBusy day today, then? Other places around here are mostly dark by five.â
Standing straighter, you politely smile before going back to the arrangement, hand reaching for the small white tufts of Babyâs-Breath.
âMostly, yeah.â You cock your head to the side, âI was supposed to be home two hours ago, but one lady was very adamant about getting the most âperfectâ flowers, as she told it.âÂ
Chuckling humorlessly, you step back and stare at the vase, not aware of the eyes stuck on the tired slump of your shoulders or the slight frown staining the manâs lips.Â
âTwo hours? Well, thatâs a bit excessive.â Kyle remarks, eyelids creasing, âIâd hope she at least left a tip for you?âÂ
That gets a laugh out of you, lungs jerking for a moment; focus once more brought back to the present at the preposterous words that just left your customerâs mouth. Those brown eyes suck you back in to a point where you wonder if youâd ever be able to look away.
âNow thatâs funny, Mr. Garrick.â
He lets the subject drop, but you notice a slight crease in-between in brows â a narrowness to his eyes that wasn't there before. You try not to think too much into it, but Kyle certainly did seem like the man to get upset when people arenât treated respectfully. The thought warms your heart.Â
Or maybe Iâm just reading too much into this.Â
âIs there anything youâd like me to rearrange, SirâŠ? Do you want a note to go with it?â Seemingly lost in thought, Kyle comes back to you with a diligent shake of his head.
âIt looks perfect, Love. And, please, just Kyleâs alright. Youâre makinâ me sound like an old man when you talk like that.â He chuckles, and itâs a rich, velvety sort of thing â twisted with blue satin and wrapped in a gentle breeze. Your stomach twists.Â
âThen I suppose thatâs it, then. Iâll get you the bill and you can be on your way.â Turning around to calculate the total price, you make a quick comment in passing, not really thinking about it as you tap on your calculator. âI hope your girlfriend and you make up.âÂ
A stunned silence falls, but you only focus on the numbers, jotting down the total on a sticky note and turning around after re-running the costs a last time. When your eyes lock with him, your feet stall at the dumbfounded look on Kyleâs face and the confusion ingrained in his body language. His head had pulled back slightly, hat tilted.
âWhatâs that?â He asks.Â
âYourâŠgirlfriend?â You say slowly, walking closer and passing him the sticky note, âyou said you were getting her apology flowers?âÂ
The handsome man blinks at you before realization lights in his eyes like fire. Kyle laughs deeply, putting a hand on top of his head and pressing down on his cap.
âOh, Bloody hell, no.â He takes a deep breath and you feel your lips pressed together in confusion, innocent intrigue taking place in your skull. âIâm sorry, Sweetheart, I should have told you right off. This is for my mum.âÂ
Blinking in surprise you pause, looking up with wide eyes.Â
Sweetheart?...Mum?! Your face heats to an intense level. Oh.Â
âO-oh I didnâtâŠâ Heâs reaching for his wallet with a large lop-sided smile on his face and understanding eyes, watching you as he flips it open. You settle with a single laugh and say, âsorry, I guess I just assumed.â
But you canât help the sudden relief that sprouted out of nowhere that leaves your lips pulling back in a mirrored grin. Youâd been doing that a lot, as of the last fifteen minutes.Â
âItâs no problem,â Kyle admits, âThing is, Iâve been off on deployment for a while, and I missed my return date party, unfortunately. Just got back about noon today and I decided I was going to surprise her tonight.â The man pulls out a large stack of bills, âThought sheâd like that, yeah? Canât go wrong with flowers, can you?âÂ
âYouâre in the military?â You ask smoothly but internally swoon at the thought of a son giving his mother flowers out of the kindness of his heart. Whoever she was, you know the woman who raised this man would be overjoyed with the prospect of simply having him home safe and sound before anything else.Â
Did not Penelope, wife of Odysseus, care for her son Telemachus more than anything? Above danger and possible death? They protected each other. You supposed it was the same in this situation.Â
Being able to be a part of it made your legs weak.
âSomething like that, Maâam.â Kyleâs lips flick into a smirk as he hands you the bills. âFeels like Iâm surrounded by children most days, but thereâs no place Iâd rather beâŠWhen Iâm not nearly getting my head bloody blown off, that is.â
You huff in amusement, and slight concern, taking the payment and settling it on the counter without checking the numbers; never doubting whether he gave you the right amount or not. Â
âWell, it seems like youâve got it all figured out.â Garrick looks to his feet for a moment, pocketing his wallet, and clears his throat near mutely. He tilts his head back up to you.
âNearly,â he whispers under his breath, a delicate wrinkle on his forehead as his lips pull in a minute, closed, grin. Sheepishly, you look away from his intense brown gaze before you can make a fool of yourself as giddiness sparks in your racing heart. What was happening to you? You have to ask yourself. Where was all of this blatant scatterbrained activity stemming from? No one had ever made you act like this before.Â
As you look away, your eyes unintentionally land on the wall clock across the room, and your thoughts still like water in a puddle. Eyes widening comedically, you feel your lips part.Â
âI really need to be closing up.â You say apologetically, looking back to the man who touches one of the Myrtle leaves carefully, running it between his thumb and forefinger. Under you, your feet shift over the floor. âIs this all youâll be needing?âÂ
âPretty sure.â Garrick answers easily, âI won't keep you any longer, eh? Iâd hate it if I made you go home by yourself after dark.âÂ
âThatâs very thoughtful, Kyle, thank you.â Pushing the vase over the counter, he takes it up and pauses as if he wants to say something. His mouth opens before closing â looking at his feet for a moment and itching at his neck with his free hand.Â
âIâŠdonât want to make you uncomfortable, Maâam,â your breath hollows, watching carefully as you listen. âBut, uh, I,â Kyle shifts his eyes to your face, standing a bit straighter as the corner of his lip flicks up, âYouâre just about the most beautiful woman Iâve ever met â if thatâs not overstepping, of course.âÂ
He laughs stiffly to dispel tension, and the air suddenly gets ten times hotter at the brutally honest, if not mildly stuttered, confession. You can nearly hear the blood rushing to your head like a flood of ocean water â more violent and immediate than a tsunami. In your ribcage, your bones ache at the beating organ and the swell of your lungs. Having to take a deep breath to not forget yourself entirely, your mind rages.
Did he really just say that? HeâŠhe called me beautiful.Â
When was the last time you had been called that? By such a lovely and kind man nonetheless. Kyle seemed like a confident person, his profession telling you that already, but the way he was acting now he seemed hesitant; like he was appalled by the fact you would take what he was saying the wrong way and come off creepy.Â
But that was so blatantly opposite of how you were reacting.Â
âI-â You stutter, eyes snapping away and hands coming to hold themselves in front of your abdomen, âwell, I think youâre very handsome, yourself, Kyle.â A meek expression spreads your visage as you see the breath in his chest hitch, âand I wouldnât call that overstepping at all. Not by a long shot.âÂ
His eyes widen, and a second of intense eye contact later, he smiles and glances away. Garrick sneaks looks as you bite your lip, and finally, he nods firmly before his phone starts to ring in his pocket.Â
As if a switch had turned, his hand snaps down and grasps the device, peeling it out of his khakis and checking the contact. Immediately he utters.
âOh, Shit, this is her. Iâve got to run.â He walks backward a few steps before turning and lightly jogging to the front door. Following with your eyes, youâre somewhat entranced by the man.Â
Before he can walk through the door, he stops in his tracks.
âSorry, again,â Kyle turns back around, and his dark eyebrows crease, âbut, uh, what days are you open?âÂ
The giddy smile that forms on your cheeks leaves your skin hurting.
âAll of âem except the weekends,â you say, confidence suddenly sprouting in your veins, âbut Iâm sure if you told me ahead of time that you were stopping by, Iâd make an exception.â
âIâd imagine for emergency flowers only?â Kyle teases, a smirk on his face. His eyes promise you, though, that this will not be the last time you see him.Â
âOf course.â You reply, raising a brow. âIâm a florist, after all, Garrick. Emergency flowers are my specialty. If youâre ever in need of more, Iâll be here, waiting.â
He laughs, stares for a few seconds longer with a distant sheen, and disappears through the door. You donât follow when his form fades from the windows entirely. You donât ask for his number, even if you knew you should have. You donât look at the amount he gave you as you put it in the register, knowing, even by your intuition, that it is double the amount he was due.Â
Youâd just tell him all about it when you saw him again.
Until Kyle Garrick showed up you had been focused; as immovable as a mountain, but then as the days drew on, you faltered. Your eyes would linger on the glass as people pass by, heart in your throat and feet tapping as you bound stems. Flowers had taken up so much of your life, but now another was trying to push its way in â slowly infecting you like a parasite in your mind as the days went on.Â
And as he kept showing up, month after month, he had taken to calling you Persephone. A goddess of spring and nature; beautiful flowers of all colors and shapes growing on hills and in vibrant meadows. It was perhaps the greatest compliment someone like you could have been given. At first, it had been a nickname until it had become as common as your actual title, and Kyle used it so much even regular customers teased you with it with smirks and side-eyes. You only rolled your optics with a burning under your skin and a small smile.
âWell, look, itâs PersephoneâŠâ
âThat boy of yours here, Persephone? Hiding in the back room perhaps?â
âPersephone â you have any Peonies this week?â
You didnât mind itâŠreally, you didnât. If anything, you thought it was precious. A man comparing you to a goddess that danced in green fields as flowers sprouted at her feet? Yes, that was quite alright.
Quite alright, indeed.
â
The office room was cold, he thought. Nearly a meat locker.Â
How in the hell can he stand to work in here, Kyle asked himself. Bloody place is like a damn winter storm just minus the snow.Â
He was seated in one of the two chairs in front of the mahogany desk, hands on the armrests and feet tapping the floor. When the Sergeant had gotten the order on his radio to come to Captain Priceâs office ASAP, he had expected the man to already be here, but five minutes later he was still sitting in silence.Â
That wasnât to say he was bored, though. He was thinking of you. He could never be bored when he did that.Â
It brings a small smile to Garrickâs face as he relives your last interaction, lips unconsciously twitching as his eyes grow distant.Â
Youâd made him a flower crown, mostly as a joke, but had been left in raging fits of laughter when youâd placed it on his head.Â
âHold still,â you grunt, sitting on the front counter and keeping the weaved headpiece in your grip as it hovers above the manâs scalp, âI want to get it centered on the first go.â
âYâknow,â Kyle chuffs, âI could always do it myself â I do have working hands, Love.âÂ
âShush!â Exclaiming, your breath fans his face, leaving him more still than a statue, if only to smell your scent and be content with your body so close to his. Kyle was still working out the best way to ask you out officially, but that didnât seem to extend to his instinctual actions when it came to you. It was increasingly hard to stop his head from leaning just that tiniest bit forward and connecting his lips to yours.Â
The pressure on his head brings him back, and his eyes blink as if they could force all the rogue thoughts from his mind. Kyle clears his throat when you lean back, acutely aware of the longing set of his dark brows as he had stared off at you.Â
âWell, then,â The Sergeant clears his throat and smiles at your concentrated face, though he notices the hitch in your chest with a strange sense of pride. âHowâs it lookin'? Is just as you imagined, eh?â
Your face scrunches, head tilting. Kyle couldnât remember a time heâd let someone put a wreath of flowers on his head, woven with Forget-Me-Nots, Silver Dollar Eucalyptus, and Tiger Lillies. The others would make fun of him for this.Â
But he found he cared little. If you kept smiling at him like that, heâd let you do anything to him in a heartbeat.Â
âPerfect.â You chuckle. âYou should have let me do this earlier.â
The shop was closed â it was a weekend, after all, and that was the time for restocking and number crunching. Not really the time for making crowns for a man who was totally smitten with you. Â
âYou sure that you donât need these?â Kyle asks, a hand reaching up to his head to touch the flora. âIâd hate to not pay you for them, Love. Can only imagine how expensive they are to order.âÂ
âEh,â rolling your eyes, your legs brush the Sergeantâs hips from where they sit around them, and the man has to remember how to breathe properly, âtheyâre the old product, anyway. Iâd have to get rid of them by Monday. Better for such a handsome individual to have a crown of his own, with all the gallantry he practices in his job. Itâs the least I could do, hm?â
Youâre teasing him, a smirk taking up the frame of Kyleâs vision. He returns the action, hands coming to rest on either side of your hips; leaning forward until his nose with mere inches away. He hears your chest rattle with a slow breath.
âAre you teasinâ me, Persephone?â He asks sneakily, as you begin to giggle. âInsinuating I need a flower crown to be recognized at work? Itâll certainly get me attention, thatâs for sure, yeah? Just not the kind I want. Soapâll have a field day.âÂ
âHeâd just make a few comments, Iâm sure.âÂ
âYouâve never met him. The bloke would never let it go until the day I kicked the bucket.â Youâre laughing, one hand coming up to cover your mouth.Â
Kyle hates himself at that moment because youâve never looked so beautiful, and he canât quite pick up the courage to just lean in. So he watches with a matching look of happiness and an embarrassing, yet adored, flower crown on top of his close-shaven head. He watches with an ache in his chest and a violent beat to his heart as your body heat melts into him; urging him, prompting him.Â
But he just smiles and watches a moment longer before taking a step back.Â
âSir,â Garrick asks, settling back down and watching the older man slink behind his desk, âWhatâs all this about?âÂ
The door opens with a firm hand. Kyle startles to his feet, tuning and about to go into an instinctual formal greeting before the Captain speaks, beating him to it.
âAt ease, Sergeant. Take a seat.â Â
Price sighs as he takes a seat, slapping a large file that was previously in his hand to the wood before opening his drawer with a grunt. Gaz watches with narrowed eyes as his superior ignores his question, pulling out a large cigar from a lockbox and slotting it between his lips. A lighter follows soon after, and soon the smell of burning tobacco enters the air.Â
â...Captain?â Kyle was starting to get nervous now. Why was he looking at him like that? Blue eyes seem to dig deep into Gazâs soul, trying to find something that was hidden behind layers and layers of flesh and bone.Â
John pulls the stick from his lips and holds it between his fingers, smoke now entering the air and rising to perforate like mist. Feet shifting over the floor, Kyleâs heart skips a beat.Â
What in the hell is going on?Â
Thatâs when the bearded man speaks.Â
âWell, who are they, then?â Price asks, tilting his head forward as his bucket hat sits where it usually does atop his brown hair. The Captainâs eyes are squinted; curious but still laced with that authority that never seemed to leave no matter how many years the two had known each other.Â
âPardon, Sir?â Gaz has to ask, confusion prominent in his expression. âThey?â
John raises a thick brow as if the answer was obvious.
âYouâre distracted. Been checking your phone like itâs going to explode the last few days. So,â the Captain stares at him heavily, taking another drag before placing the cigar in his ashtray and breathing out a cloud of smoke. He leans forward and places his hands on the table, as Kyle watches, perplexed, âwho is it, Sergeant? No use hiding it.â
âIâŠâ Gaz trails before blinking dumbly, lips parting, âoh, hell, was it that obvious?â
âPainfully.â The answer makes the younger man cringe and his skin pulls tight. A pause leaves the room silent, the Sergeant avoiding his Captainâs gaze as he tilts his head away for a moment. He clears his throat.Â
âSheâs justâŠâ Kyle clears his throat, âsomeone I met in the city. A florist. Down on Main Ave.â
âA florist, eh?â Grunting, John nods his head to himself. âAsked the bird out, then?âÂ
âWhat?â Snapping his head up, Gaz says loudly with stuttering lips, âN-no, Sir. Not yet.âÂ
The man ahead of him hums, leaning back and flipping his file open, taking a moment to pick up the first page and skim the contents with small eyes. He looks over the top with a blank expression.Â
âIâd get on that, Son.âÂ
â
Today was different, you knew. Something was going to happen. An unexplainable feeling was in the back of your mind, making you somewhat anxious even if you didnât know exactly why. It was like a sheet had been thrown over your head and someone had just told you to run in circles without hitting a wall; feet tied with a rope.Â
The morning had started off normal, as had everything else that followed, but there was an air of expectation wafting in front of you.Â
Whatâs going on? You ask as you wipe down the counter with a wet rag, swiping stray leaves and petals into the garbage bin at your feet. Why am I feeling like Iâm expecting something to happen?Â
It was Tuesday â nothing astounding ever happens on Tuesdays.Â
The front door opens with the ringing of a silver bell, and you say absentmindedly, still caught in your thoughts, âbe with you in a moment!âÂ
A cough startles you, your hand squeezing the rag a bit tighter as your neck twists upwards.Â
âHope Iâm not interrupting.âÂ
âKyle,â you laugh and take a breath, âI didnât expect you todayâŠâÂ
Freezing, your lips part in a silent gasp when you see it. The man you had come to have quite the crush on was standing a few paces from the door, dressed in a nice shirt and dress pants, jacket in the crook of his arm. He holds a single Sunflower in his grasp.Â
It wasnât anything overly impressive, a bit small and dead at the tips, but nonetheless, your heart stuttered at the gift. Staring at it silently, you turn your gaze to Kyle as his feet shift over the floor nervously. A strange look had overtaken his face, but he had a confident air to him that youâd been seeing more and more of the last few visits.Â
âWhatâs this?â You ask carefully, body going hot all over and lungs swelling.Â
Youâd loved flowers for most of your life; worshiped them like the people of Delphi worshiped their god-chosen Oracle. But never could you recall a moment when you had been given any out of free will. Everyone always assumed you disliked getting them because of your job, but, oh, that couldnât be farther from the truth. Flowers were like declarations of emotions â they could mean so many things to so many different people. They were the truth laid bare in nature as plainly as it could be, wrought with promises.
Your breath stills, eyelids pulling back delicately; lips parting.Â
Kyle speaks softly, raising the flower in his grip.
âI remembered you saying you liked these more than roses â you called them âtackyâ if IâmâŠremembering correctly. The roses, that is.â
He was remembering correctly. But that had been just a passing comment to another customer you had been helping before him. Unimportant. A quick piece of yourself that hadnât mattered while you were cutting stems and looping twine.Â
But he remembered it.Â
A giggle falls from you until your hand snaps up, trapping it behind parted fingers and an awe-filled face.Â
âI wanted to give it to you,â he continued, walking forward with measured steps, âand ask you a question, if youâd let me.â
âOf course, I would.â Itâs breathless, the way you say it, and suddenly you know exactly why you've been so on edge today.Â
Youâd been waiting for him.
And when he smiles at you, your mind runs to gossamer silk. Such a delicate thing; that smile, comparable to the millions of strands a spider spins in a lifetime. Gorgeous and so very easily missed if you werenât looking at just the right moment. Gossamer Silk.Â
Since when has his grin become so important to you? To where you craved it just as violently as water or food? That look in his amber gaze â the one that left you breathless even when you simply thought about it, that was what you wanted to witness when you woke up in the mornings. You wanted his arms around you. You wanted his lips pressed to yours. You wanted him to be in your kitchen making you dinner as the rain fell outside and the flowers in your back garden grew strong and beautiful.Â
You wanted him to be yours.
Kyle stops behind the counter and hands you the flower. You reach for it without complaint instantaneously, wondering momentarily if he had just happened upon one and taken it in a moment of passion. Both of your fingers brush, and the imaginary sparks that fly make you turn slightly shy, head tilting to the side for a moment.Â
But a finger hooks under your chin, moving it back as delicately as bird wings, gentle feathers tickling your flesh and nerves.Â
A hum resonates in your chest, eyes crinkling as you stare into amber brown with flecks of gold. You could get lost in them if you looked too much.Â
But you didnât seem to mind in the slightest.
âPersephone, would you do me the great honor,â the two of you laugh at the wispy and teasing tone, and suddenly you wish the counter between you would disappear into thin air, âof going on a date with me tonight?âÂ
Tuesdays, perhaps, might have just become the best day of the week, and a small Sunflower with dead tips and fading yellow, your new favorite flower.Â
Ironic, how that works. He ended up distracting you more than you could ever imagine.
â
âDonât you have to be back on base soon, Garrick?â You mutter into a warm chest, street lights shining into the windows of the apartment.Â
âBloody hell, yesâŠBut Iâd crawl back to you, if you asked it of me.â
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i wanna step on gaz
not in a bully mean dom way cause gaz is my baby but in a
"aww are you so needy you can cum from this alone :( do you like me so much that just seeing me above you like these makes you leaky :(" soft dom way
i want to make him CRY from pleasure
maybe fuck him so good he passes out and has the best sleep in years
Thinking about Gaz who you spoil and love so much, especially in bed and donât get it wrong he loves it, basks in the warmth of it but sometimes he wishes you were a bit rough with him, sunk your fingers or teeth into his skin, denied him release or even sharpened your words and tone a bit.
But he knows you wouldnât ever do it, God heâs tried it so many times, tried being bratty only to earn a soft scolding, tried riling you up a bit til you couldnât help but be rough with him, only for you to be as composed as ever with him, hell heâd even voiced his wishes (albeit vaguely) only for you to fail to get the messages.
Heâd never expected that his secret wish would be delivered to him right in the palm of his hand, and during a sparring session at that, when your foot is pressing awfully hard against his stomach which in turn has blood pooling to his lower half.
âReady to give up yet?â You say through labored breathes, while playfully glaring down at the younger man.
Gazâs body is slicked with sweat, chest falling and rising at a rapid pace and shirt and shorts awkwardly hitched up, from all the rough housing youâd been doing.
As you continue to trail your gaze down his body you notice the boner heâs sporting and canât help the smile twitching at the corners of your mouth.
Gaz has always been so easy to rile up.
But the smile quickly drops from your face once you catch a hint of pink among the sea of navy green, peaking out between his legs.
Without even thinking about it your sock clad foot moves from his stomach, down to his crotch, toes nudging his shorts to the side, now fully exposing his panty clad cock.
Itâs the piece of pink lace youâd recently bought for him, material carefully chosen as to not irritate his skin and going well beyond to make sure it compliments his size, something comfortable enough to lounge around in.
You just never thought heâd be wearing it to practice.
âWhy are you wearing that?â You say, voice sounding breathy and strained.
Gaz tries to form words, brain scrambling for a reason- any reason as to why heâs wearing lingerie during practice only for a pathetic âcomfortableâ to tumble from his lips.
âAnd boxers arenât?â You say giving him an incredulous look. âBe honest angel, why are you wearing these hm?â You say sock clad toes brushing along his sack and sending shiver up his spine.
âFelt-felt prettyâ he finally manages to sputter out, hips slightly buckling up as you continue to lazily stroke his shaft.
You hum in response lightly pressing down on his cock in reward and hearing him grunt out in pleasure.
âSo you decided to wear them to practice today? Wanted me to see how pretty you look in the stuff I got for you?â You say pressing down your foot once again and lightly dragging it along his length.âIs that right Angel?â
His cock twitches at your touch, and he nods his head in response to your question.
âWords Gaz, you know the rulesâ you say, tone sounding a bit more sharper, foot pressing down harder
âYes sir, wanted you to see how pretty I look wearing them- just -please please -â he stutters out, once again bucking his hips up.
âWhat do you want pretty?â You say with a smile on your face, feeling your own cock stir at the sight of him looking absolutely wrecked when you havenât even touched him yet.
âMake me cumâ he almost sobs out.
âMake you? Sweetheart you know I wonât make you do anything you donât want to do, youâll just have to beg for itâ
#kyle gaz garrick#just imagine him wearing the sluttiest pair of shorts for the sake of plotdjjdjdjd#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x male reader#gaz cod#gaz x reader#gaz x male reader#call of duty#dom male reader#sub male character
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roommate!Kyle who is the perfect gentleman. He keeps dinner warmed for you after a gruelling shift at work, he picks up after himself, keeps the shared bathroom tidy and even knocks on your door, waiting for you to grant him entry.
Kyle is always happy to stay in when heâs home, curled up on the couch with you in your favorite recliner, laughing at whatever silly movie is playing that night. Heâs heaven sent after the demons youâve lived with before hand.
#little do you know#kyle is fucking himself stupid in your bed while youâre away at work#face buried in your pillow as he ruts into your mattress#whining as he tries to breathe your scent in deeper#slipping down the bed#scrambling around the floor looking for any of your recent worn pair of underwear#fucking into his fist as he breathes in your musk#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader
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Their Song (Killshot, Part 4.)
Description: The occupation as a member of SAS came along with many restrictions and rules one had to follow to a dot. It could get even more intense for a soldier carrying a lot of trauma and not enough self-love, if any at all. Thank God, this lonely soldier meets a lonely florist one day, and as they say - animals have the best judge of character.
Part Summary:Â While Ghost was trying to process the new information during his military duties, Cassie had a different idea on her mind - inviting you both to join the party during the upcoming karaoke session.
A/N: Okay listen, I know we're here for our boy Ghost and his story, but come on - we can not ignore how fine of a specimen Captain John fucking Price is. Like girl, don't even pretend you wouldn't be smitten by this charmer. He's the catch, the moment, the stunner. I wanted to write a chapter that focuses on the relationship between other characters too, so expect some bonding between Johnny, Cass, Nelly, Gaz and Price. Cuz we love good friendships and happy families. The chapter's ending is heavily influenced by Saturn and Turning Page by Sleeping at Last.
Warnings: Strong mentions of anxiety, reader getting hammered, usage of alcohol, and smoking (both mentioned and active), Simon Riley secretly having the voice of an angel. A lot of '...' is used in emotionally heavy moments. Mentions of various pop songs - it's not important, you can imagine singing any song you'd like - the only song I'm adamant about is Meet Me At Our Spot (by the Anxiety) being their song because the entirety of the story is built on it.
Word count: 9.5K (i have no apology)
Tagging:Â @poohkie90â
Master list:Â H E R EÂ |Â Ghost's tapes: P L A Y L I S T
Cassie did as she promised - after Simon texted her the address, she was at your flat within the next 15 minutes. The traffic was usually clogged at this hour, but she did her best. Simon couldn't appreciate it enough. "... And I've cooked some vegetable broth for when she wakes up. Think it's a bit strong, but whatever. It'll get her back on her feet.." - Simon explained to Cassie as he walked through the flat, explaining what went down that evening. The woman listened intently, nodded, and hummed when needed. - "Promised her I'd wake her up when it's done, but she looked miserable the last time I checked on her."
"That's very nice of you." - Cassie smiled, putting her coat away as she was making herself more comfortable - she packed fresh homey clothes and the most basic hygiene she could need in case your flu got even worse than that. Living alone wasn't easy and sometimes, you needed someone to rely on - Cassie, still considering you one of her closest friends, was glad she could be that someone for you. - "She's lucky someone's looking out for her like you do.
"The least I could do, really." - The man grunted, putting his jacket on. No matter how much he liked being around Cass, he wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He was barely containing the urge to beat Billy to a pulp and he didn't want to direct these intense emotions towards Cass or, in the worst case, you. - "Bonnie's also taken care of, took her for a walk, and checked she had enough to drink and to eat. Would be wise to walk her in the morning, though." "Aye aye, captain. Stop worrying - you keep on forgetting that I live with Johnny, I know how to make shit work." - The blonde nodded, smirking at all the concern she could see in Simon's eyes. - "I'm sure both of them will be alive and well tomorrow morning if you'd like to check on them. Or, you could cancel your plans and hang around? I'm sure Y/N would be delighted to see you when she wakes up." "Can't. It's urgent." - Simon dismissed, looking around for the last time. The peaceful image of being able to put his shoes in the same shoe rack was smushed by all the anxiety and hatred he was feeling. It felt as if this image flashed in his head years ago, not a few hours ago.
Cassie was waiting for Simon to make sure everything was okay - it was hard to say what was going on inside his mind, but there had to be something. Yes, she and Johnny caught the wind that your chemistry seemed to be flowing well - especially after you disclosed to her that Ghost visits you nearly every shift, spending your lunch breaks together. She wouldn't have suspected the two of you were at this stage, though. Cassie was... Genuinely happy when she heard Simon was at your place, taking care of you when you got sick. The two of you were one of the best people she had gotten to know - and from what little Johnny told her about L.t., neither of you had the best of luck with the people who hung around you. Cassie wasn't sure who it was when it came to Simon, but in your case, Billy was the prime example. She hated his guts ever since you introduced them on one of your shifts. The guy gave her the chills even though she mostly liked everyone - that was a major red flag.
Therefore, the knowledge of the two of you... Spending time together, getting to know each other... That was something that made Cassie smile. "Hey, Si?" - She asked when Simon finally walked to the front door, ready to leave the apartment. "What is it?" "Hope you didn't forget about next Saturday?" "How could I? You and Johnny keep bugging me off about it. Price also chimed in today." - Ghost reiterated with irony, sending one of his famous wink in Cassie's direction. - "Can't wait." "Take care, big guy."
For the next few hours, Cassie and Bonnie dozed off while watching the Bake Off - the two were splayed on the couch, nuzzling together. Bon usually slept in your bed (you even bought the doggie stairs for her since she was too small to hop onto it), but since your door was shut tight and there was a new strange human friend to hang around, she gladly spent the night with Cass. It could be around four in the morning when you woke up, setting on a journey to take a piss, have some veggie broth, take some painkillers, and then, go to sleep again. As you noticed Cassie messaging her eyes (the creaking of your floorboards woke her up), you thought you'd simply made her up. The last you remembered, Ghost didn't have long blonde hair and a petite figure. She frightened you when you walked back into the living room - the girl was standing in the small kitchenette area, heating up the broth while making you both a cup of tea.
"Mornin', sleeping beauty." - She hummed as she stretched her back, yawning as she did so. "Hi." - You muttered back, coughing right after. - "What are you doing here? When... Did you come?" "Around 8? Ghost had something going on and couldn't stay, unfortunately, so he called for backup. I'm the backup." "Figures. So sorry to bother you, but I'm good, Cass. Bet you'd rather be doing anything else than hanging around with me right now." "Shush, Y/N. I'm glad to be here." - The woman answered, sending you one of her heartfelt, genuine smiles. Damn, she was still the same sunshine you remembered. - "On a different topic, I hope you're hungry. The broth smells so damn good." "He promised to wake me up when it's done. Bet the plans came out of nowhere." - You assumed, putting on a sweater to try to fight off the chills. You were so cold that your teeth kept on clattering.
"Does sound like Ghost to me." - The girl answered, snickering. - "He checked on the flat at least four million times before he left, though, so you can be sure we're safe and sound here." "Were you cleaning up?" - You wondered, noticing the folded clothes - furrowing at the sight of your coat also being neatly folded. Whoever was cleaning up your kitchen was a damn genius. All of the appliances suddenly seemed pristine, even those that you struggled to clean for years. Everything was organized in a way that simply made sense. It was hard to explain, but the newly given order made your kitchen three times nicer. Also, all the mess laying around the flat, that you've been planning on cleaning the entire week, was neatly put on the coffee table for you to organize - along with that fucking photo... And that fucking letter. "No, me and Bon dozed off after McAvoy went on a tangent about his dough being a bit too wet." - Cassie admitted honestly, putting a mug filled with hot tea in front of you. You didn't flinch away from the sight of the photo and the letter lying on the coffee table, your expression devoid of emotion.
Ghost, you realized, your expression slowly drowning in worry and horror. Did Ghost see it? Did Ghost read it? Of course he did, you didn't bother with picking up the photo even though you knew it was lying under the fridge. Why would you? But what about about you now? You were in so much trouble, if Billy gets to know, he'll come and... You had to almost slap yourself. Billy wasn't there to do shit anymore. You were safe. As you sat there, frozen in place, you realized you weren't even mad at Ghost - it felt so freeing for someone to know. To know what you're going through, to see it all on paper. You should've been raging, you should ask Cassie to call Ghost's sorry ass so you could talk with him about who gave him the right to fucking snoop - and instead, you were so fucking grateful. A huge portion of the weight was lifted off your shoulders, realizing there was someone you could confide in regarding what Billy said... You could tell Ghost about everything Billy had done to you.
Sure, most people didn't like Billy, but none of the said people knew how bad the situation truly was. Others could see only how he treated you in public - how he talked about you as if you were a pet, something he had to take care of, something so annoying he hated it with every fiber of his being. What they didn't know? About everything that had happened in your old apartment, about what went down behind the closed doors. None of them knew about the numerous emergency visits, about all the 'stairs you've fallen off', about the holes in the walls, about the broken furniture and dishes. The people around you, except your mum, didn't know. The fact you didn't file a report against his ass was astonishing - you had plenty of chances to do so. The doctor who treated you anytime you came in asked multiple times if you'd like to share something with him - you could see it in his eyes - he knew. But you never did. You were too scared. So scared you fled one day.
You should've burnt both, the photo and the letter, just like you promised your mum. Instead, the evidence lay right there, on your coffee table, and someone whom you trusted dearly was aware of your struggle.
"You alright?" - Cassie wondered, watching your distressed expression. "Hm?" "I'm asking if you're alright, been silent for the past couple of minutes. You're looking like you've seen a ghost." "I'm pretty sure he's asleep by now, but okay." - You answered, your sass making Cassie snicker.
After you've both eaten a bowl of that delicious fucking broth (it was the best you've had in your life), chatting about everything new in your respective lives, Cassie fished out a package of butter biscuits from literally nowhere. Later, she admitted she found them in the pantry - this made you smile. While biscuits weren't your go-to snack, you could appreciate them - Ghost thought of everything. He bought utensils, medicine, actual food and even snacks. If God finally decided to answer your prayers for a guardian angel, Ghost was it. "'s the tea okay?" - Cass wondered, sitting opposite you with a croaked smile. Bonnie was lying by her feet, hoping Cassie would drop at least a crumble of cookies by 'accident'. "Best I've had in years. Poured your heart into making that cuppa, didn't you?" "You bet, love. Anywho, Johnny and I were wondering... What you're up to next Saturday?" "Nothing I can think of. I'll probably have a spa day with my mum. Hadn't taken her out in a month." "Would you like to come to a karaoke with us? It's in the evening, so you'd have plenty of time for your mum and yourself." - Cass asked excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope. - "Everyone's wondering if you'd show up!"
"Uh-uh, they surely are." - You reiterated uncomfortably. It was hard to believe any of the people surrounding Cassie would genuinely want you around - you could say Cass was enthralled by the prospect of having you join their little crew, but the rest? "Not this again, girl. For starters, Johnny is talking my ear off regarding you, constantly asking if I've invited you yet? What did the bonnie say? You hadn't asked her? Shite, hon, pick up the phone and do it right now!" - The way she horridly imitated Johnny's accent made you genuinely laugh. - "Nelly asked countless times if you'd join our brunches and hangouts, she hadn't talked to you in years. Kylie will be there. Gaz promised he'd stop by for a drink, and Price... Girl, you'll love Capt'n Prize. He's easygoing, fun and very easy on the eyes." "Cass! Behave, you have a man at home." - You exclaimed, staring at her in disbelief. "What?! He's one handsome bloke, a high-ranking geezer in the military, too - I won't be denying he's handsome. If you think I'm wicked, you should hear what Johnny says about the guy! You have no idea how many times I've had to listen to Johnny's rambling about John's pecs." - With this, you both giggled until comfortable silence fell over the room.
"So... Are you coming?" "I... I don't think it's appropriate. You guys seem like a good party of friends, I'd be your plus one - the new weirdo on the block. Yannow what I mean?" "Except you wouldn't be, dummy. C'mon, everybody wants you to come. Ghost even said it's his only condition - you wouldn't wanna let the guy rot at home now, would you?" "He said that? You're committing emotional extortion right now, Cassandra." - You tried to circle around, but Cass' knowing smile revealed she was seeing right through your bullshit - she knew well to keep Ghost's wish under wraps until the last moment. It was nice watching you get excited, giddy up and grin a bit. She didn't answer your question, just smiled - "Well... If that's the case, I might drop for a glass or two." "I'm so happy to hear that. Wear whatever bloody hell you want, we don't care, just feel comfy and come in a good mood. The drinks are on us, we'll only need help with the rental. Also - we need to sing a song together." "No way Cass. You remember how bad I am at singing, right?" "Bull-fucking-shit. It's gonna be so epic. God, I can't wait."
Well, no matter how much you tried to resist and how you planned on shutting Cass' request down, by 9 p.m. on the following Saturday, the two were yelling some pop-song lyrics into the microphone with a drink in your hand. Holy fuck it felt wonderful to let all the worries and burdens go, even for one evening.
The week leading up to the karaoke session was a doozie for both you and Simon. He contemplated asking Cassie for your number, to call you, text, check on you - he'd been scheduled to look after rookie training in a boot camp a few miles away from London, unable to make it back even for a small chat. He vanished into thin air at the worst time - he acknowledged but couldn't do anything to let you know. The man wished to let you know he wasn't mad and that he certainly wasn't going anywhere - but opening such a sensitive topic with the victim of domestic abuse was very tricky. Of which he was aware, as he also fell into this bracket. At times, Ghost wished he'd be better at conveying emotions and more approachable to open such topics. Although everything that happened during his life, he'd considered himself a good listener - he highly doubted you'd simply spill the beans about the darkest time of your life when you meet up next time, let alone acknowledge he snooped in your private matters without your permission. Were you mad at him? How much will you tell Ghost off when he makes it back home? Will it lead to a well-deserved argument? It should, right? The thoughts about you and William consumed Simon's brain during each second of the service, turning him into an anxious ball by the end of the week.
Not that you'd be faring better than Simon. If it was possible, you were doing even worse than he was - what was wrong? Where was he? Was he okay? Did the letter make him change his mind? Did Ghost draw false conclusions from it? Each day at work, you hoped to see the man approaching in the distance, carrying two cups - this would be the first sign that everything was okay. You wished he'd drop by for a chat, even if you'd awkwardly sit around in silence. Being unable to see him was killing you - only on Thursday you learned about his minor deployment. It didn't ease the stress much, but at least you knew you weren't the cause of his disappearance.
Cassie and Johnny, thankfully, pulled through. The night Cass stayed over, watching you, rekindled the long-lost friendship and fueled it with a new flame. This one was gentler, not all-consuming - it wasn't the spontaneous friendship of two kids but rather a meaningful adult connection you felt you were missing. Your mum was over the moon hearing that Cass invited you for a karaoke - as you told her about Johnny bringing you breakfast the following morning put a gentle, knowing smile on her face. The two started texting you whenever they felt like it, ranging from 'How you doing' to 'Look what a weird strange thing I found in the store today'. Johnny even came on Friday to have lunch with you - he'd been just dismissed from the base (he had to sign some new payment estimates and take a picture for his personnel folder), sending warmest regards from Ghost. This boosted your mood immensely, turning you into a brand new person.
This led you to Saturday night. Everyone invited to the karaoke was pretty neat, you had to admit. Nelly, just as Cass solemnly swore, was over the moon when she saw you approaching the table, squealed, and immediately pulled you into one of her bear hugs. Kylie, even though you didn't remember her, was easy to be around - she had a nice aura surrounding her as she sipped on her margarita. Gaz, Kyle to you, was another member of Johnny's squad, you've learned on your way to get a drink. The gentleman got on his feet when you announced you'd like something to drink, offering to accompany you. There was something about his careful tone, gentle smirk and slightly narrowed eyes. While you perceived Johnny as an unstoppable force fuelled by sweets and coffee, Gaz seemed calmer, like cold gauze treating a burn or the soothing smell of air after rain. You loved his aura - every bit of energy Kyle offered, you took with a grateful smile.
John Price, Capt'n Prize as Cass dubbed him, was every bit like Cass painted him out to be - even more than that. It was hard to believe he was real at first - men like him usually ended up on the cover of Sears. Your eyes were there for Ghost and Ghost only, but damn, John was ridiculously easy on the eyes, charming, and attractive - a fucking stunner at his finest. When you got over his ridiculous attractiveness, there was everything else about John Price. There was something about his sharp wit, rascalous grin and devious jitters in his eyes, something about the way he insisted on joining him on his smoke breaks. The guy was a good listener, sneering and gruffing upon hearing your jokes and stories, his eyes not leaving you for a second. If you weren't smitten with your masked soldier, you'd beg Price to give you his number by the end of the night.
Ghost was running late ('Don't you worry 'bout the boy, lass, he's alright', Price informed), and after Gaz brought you your third drink, singing sounded like a good fucking idea. Not too much later, you and Cassie were jumping on the impromptu stage, dancing to some sort of British electro-pop, grinning from ear to ear - Ghost was standing in the shuffle door of your reserved lounge, watching you two enjoying the moment. He'd imagined how to explain his late arrival and the fact he was gone for a week, but the moment you sent him a smile and waved at him, already a bit tipsy, all the excuses dissipated into thin air.
You looked so beautiful when you were having fun - all the worries and everyday problems disappeared with a wave of a wand (more probably a microphone, that was), and alcohol gave you the long-lost courage and love for life. Ghost had seen you happy before, yes, but he hadn't seen you entirely carefree yet. "Thank you, Lucky Voice, thank you! We'll be here all week!" - Cass cried out drunkenly, bobbing a curtsy to the entire table of drunkards watching you. "The hell we won't, the rental price is insane here, lass!" - Johnny protested, making Cass laugh. Kylie and Gaz got up, preparing to sing Abba's 'Super Trouper' right after your tremendous performance. Even though Ghost would love nothing but listening to them, he couldn't miss how you approached him, your legs unsteady and uncertain.
"Hey there, stranger." "Hey, love." - The man whispered, growing soft upon looking at your flustered face. You were a bit sweaty from all the jumping, but you still looked so fucking good. So fucking good that Ghost had to do his best not to kiss you right off the bat in fact - it was a tough week and you were finally there, in front of him, close enough he could feel your warmth on his skin, close enough to be hugged, kissed and cherished... Your presence felt like a fever dream. He'd been sacked at the boot camp, looking over rookies, and following orders while having you and William on his mind all the fucking time. One moment, he swore he'd kill the guy the next chance he got; when he blinked, memories of you suddenly appeared, plastering yourself all over his brain, smiling sweetly at him. He's been missing your presence, the unmistakable charm you were bringing to the world... It was a week since he'd been under your spell and there was no other place in the entire world he'd rather be than at the karaoke bar, right by your side. "You're looking... Rough." "Am I now?" "Long week?" "Fuckin' tell me about it." "The boys mentioned. Wanna grab a drink and go for a smoke break? I'm fresh out of mine so I'd appreciate both - some booze and fresh air." "Would be my pleasure."
Asking him about all the details he'd been willing to share, the two of you grabbed a drink and ventured in front of the karaoke bar for a bit, lazily shuffling back into the rented lounge. Even though you tried your damnest to prolong the moment you were having with Ghost, Johnny ruined the intimacy the moment he saw you approaching - the guy jolted over to you, grabbing you by your elbow with great care. "We're gonna sign, bonnie lass, me 'n you. Price found the perfect song for us." "Did he now? That sounds menacing." "It'll be in good fun, c'mon. Be a good sport for me, eh?" "I would never turn you down, Johnny. I'm just worried about which tune Price picked out, 's all."
"Give me your drink. I'll fetch it to the table." - Ghost offered silently, melting at the sight of you and Johnny giggling like two little kids. With a sorrowful smile, your glass ended up in Ghost's palm - you wished the moment would've lasted longer, that you'd have longer for listening to him rambling about everything and nothing. You missed him. "'m sorry." - You added, stopping in your tracks. Johnny halted alongside you, watching the two of you ogling back and forth, Simon's eyes boring into you with unmatched intensity. If you'd let him, his eyes would probably devour you whole. Johnny let out a quiet whistle, waiting for you to be done with your small moment. Cassie proclaimed how she's positive Simon is into you and that you might be interested in him... But seeing it unravel in front of his eyes was adorable.
Your eyes never left Simon's face, your palm gently holding onto his forearm. You were standing inappropriately close - Simon could feel your breast bumping into his arm each time you took a breath. If you were anyone else (Nelly, for example), Ghost would've already shown you out of his personal space - but the guy did nothing, even took an almost unnoticeable step closer. The bloody bastard that reached an impressive 6'4 in height seemed to grow smaller and gentler in your presence, his eyes filled to the brim with warmth and adoration - why two you weren't dating yet was beyond Soap, truly. "Nothin' to be sorry about, love. You go and enjoy yourself now, yeah?" "I'll catch you later."
Moments later, you found yourself in a fit of laughter over Johnny's interpretation of 'California Gurls'. You loved everything about it - the false confidence he radiated despite not having any semblance of musical hearing, his inability to match his tone to the note progression and his horrible timing. The chorus, however, was something to behold - neither of you tried to sing, knowing the chorus by heart (thanks to this song being in the radio on a fucking loop), you simply yelled it into each other's faces, bouncing around and hyping each other up. Price didn't even cover the phone - he immortalized each second of your moving performance, sending it to Cassie the moment he ended recording. Cassie and Nelly were crying, losing it the moment you did your best to imitate Snoop Dog - Gaz appeared to be severely traumatized, cracking a grin when the hellish screeching finally stopped.
"Bloody hell, this was one of the best decisions of my life." - Price muttered, drying his cheeks. He meant it, none of them laughed this hard in the last few weeks. Cass was dragging him to sing their rendition of Take Me Out. - "I'm playin' this on your bloody wedding, sarge. Stellar." These two picked out Franz Ferdinand as their band of choice, dramatically portraying each lyric - alcohol and good company always made John pipe down, relax and sometimes, on extremely rare occasions, do rather silly and inappropriate things you wouldn't see a military skipped doing... Just as jumping around to the riff of 'Take Me Out'. "That's my fiancé! I taught my bonnie lass to listen to good fucken' music!" - Johnny explained, listening to the opening chords. You knew it, of course, it was well-known, but Johnny's sudden burst of pride made you stare at him with mouth agape. Thankfully, Kyle and Ghost to the rescue.
"Johnny can get a wee bit patriotic." - Kyle explained as the Scotsman jumped around in the rhythm, making you a bit terrified. "Uh-uh." - Ghost nodded, confirming. - "Hates us 'fucking lunatics', meaning Brits, according to his own words. Everyone except you and Cass according to his latest statement. Love that about the chap, though." "What does patriotism have to do with... Fucking anything?" - At that moment, Johnny started screaming the words with the same "grace" he sang California Gurls with. It looked both scary and funny at the same time. "The band is Scottish, you see?" - Kyle explained. "Heard him swearin' he'd plunk any uncultured swine who'd tarnish their rep." - Ghost added, taking a good swing of his whiskey. "Hillarious..." - Kyle added, clinking his glass with yours, kicking all the remnants in. "Scary." - You hummed, moving out of the way for Kyle to comfortably leave the table.
"On the topic of Johnny... Looked good out there. Didn't know you're such a talented singer." - Ghost murmured as you watched the trio, enchanted with how silly they acted. "You're fucking with me now, aren't you?" "I'm serious - wasn't as bad as I expected. Enjoyed every second of your brilliant performance." "If you enjoyed that, your musical hearing is fucked, buddy, sorry to inform you. Anywho, what will you sing?" "Oh, I'm just here for fun and banter. I don't do singing." "Don't be a party popper. C'mon." "And have you poking fun at me for the rest of my life? No, thank you." - Thankfully, he was saved by Nelly - she was asking for help with moving and assembling some furniture at her new place. Both Gaz and Ghost agreed to take a look at it whenever she needed them to.
His streak of not 'taking part in singing at karaoke' was challenged not even two hours later. The party had moved from drinks to shots - you were more courageous, not taking no for an answer. You, Cass and Nelly even had the first round of ugly crying of the night under your belts, crying about how you should've rekindled the friendship way sooner - at this, all the gentlemen decided to go for a smoke break, leaving Kyle behind as your nanny. As soon as Price got back, you were on his ass - sighing about him being one of the most handsome blokes you've ever met. Price could only choke out an amused: - "Why, thank you, miss." - before laughing his ass off at your drunk expression. You were standing in front of Simon now, your palm extended to him, chin risen ever so slightly. The expression you had was dangerous - determined and cocky.
"You need anythin'?" - Ghost prompted, grinning at the sight. He'd downed two glasses of whiskey by that point, the bourbon delicately burning in his chest. "Yah. You, me, the stage, now." - It wasn't a question nor a wish, it was an order. Simon's eyes narrowed as he smiled, darkening ever so slightly. He liked it when you were bossy. Cass, unbeknownst to your knowledge, bumped Johnny's shoulder, the duo now shamelessly staring at you. The rest of the table was engaged in a conversation as Price and Kyle told the ladies some of the less confidential stories. "I don't do singing, already told you when you asked." "Too bad I'm not asking. Move your ass, I spent ten fuckin' minutes looking for our song." "Our song?" - Simon whispered, all the air suddenly kicked out of his lungs. Of course, he knew what song you had in mind - the one playing when he worked on the chicken broth. Ashamedly, Simon had to admit he memorized each word, each chord because he had it playing on a loop in his headphones before going to sleep. "C'mon, mate. Make an exception, just for once - won't kill ya to sing. Poor lass barely hit the right keys." - Soap chimed in, his strong Scottish accent overwhelming the conversation - everyone's eyes were on you now, waiting for Simon to finally take your fucking hand. "Shit was kinda blurry, 's right." - You admitted, still waiting for Simon to take your hand. It wasn't a shame to admit you barely recognized a from m at this point, the alcohol kicked in big time.
His palm caught yours, slipping around it like a glove... As if your hands were moulded to be held by this, fitting like two pieces of a fucking puzzle. Getting you onto the improvised stage was a task in itself - you've stuttered on your way up and if it wasn't for Simon's hands catching your shoulders, you'd fall square on your face. "Who's singing Willow's part?" - Simon wondered as you offered him his microphone - your eyes darted next to his head as if you were trying to determine which of the Ghosts in front of you was the real one. "You, duh. Bet you're rocking luscious, beautiful curls under that mask 'f yours." "Fuckin' close 'nough, I guess." - The guy laughed, shaking his head at you - your drunk form was absolutely fucking adorable. If he'd have to describe it, you looked like a mischievous little devil. "Hit it, Jack!" - You exclaimed, pointing in Johnny's direction - Cassie was kneeling in front of the table with her phone at the ready, determined to catch every second of what was coming. Fuck, Simon realized, he'll have this on his plate for the foreseeable future. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" - Soap answered with matching intensity, saluting as he his 'play'. The known base filled the silent lounge, having everyone staring at you with their breaths batted - you were swaying in the rhythm, your moves far from graceful but you were clearly enjoying yourself, lost in the moment.
You didn't know what you were expecting - Simon was a well-built man with 6'3 height under his belt, his voice naturally guttural and gruffly, clouded with a thick British accent. While you braced yourself to hear the most horrible hellish screeching imaginable, Simon's singing almost gave you a heart attack and swept Johnny off his drunk feet. Ghost sounded like an angel. All of you stared at the man in disbelief as he poured his fucking soul into the lyrics, hitting each fucking note perfectly. His interpretation of your favourite song was what you wanted to listen to over and over, selfishly wishing you'd record it. Simon had to poke your shoulder to make you realise it was your turn to sing - hastily, you joined him during the chorus, surprising your small audience even further.
Your singing wasn't bad, but not Grammy-worthy either - and yet, hearing you two harmonize was magical. Soon, you'd forget about your friends at the table, staring at each other while singing your hearts out. His eyes hadn't moved from yours, the man sang each line as if he meant it - it made your heart beat heavily in your chest. For Simon, it wasn't just singing - each line of the song had a meaning. It was one of his silly little wishes it could become your reality where you'd met earlier in your lives. In this universe, you'd be just two young adults falling in love, meeting up so you'd forget all about the stress and anxiety tying you down in each other's arms.
In that reality, Simon could be enough for you and you'd be enough for yourself. You wouldn't feel the need to stick around guys who weren't good for you, you wouldn't receive extortive mail, and you wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't cover his face because he couldn't stand to look himself in the eye, neither because he was protecting his identity. In this reality, William wouldn't exist. You'd have your spot in each others' arms, falling asleep feeling safe. In this reality, you could lead a happy, day-to-day life. There was a small moment when the song finished, a glimpse of a second when Simon almost kissed you. Your expression was adoring, glimmering with happiness and pure, unconditional love - the microphone dropped by your hip, and you were staring into his eyes, taking a small step closer. The whole moment was ruined by Nelly getting up, clapping and whistling cheerfully, others following suit - not bad for Si's karaoke debut, Cassie had to admit.
As you stumbled away from Simon's reach, you stumbled on your feet again, falling flat on the ground this time. - "Fuck." "Aight, missy, 's 'nough for you tonight. I'll take you home, yeah?" "Noooo, Ghoooost..." - You whined dramatically as he helped you over to the table, sitting you down. - "The party just started, man. We can't leave now." "You tell that to your toilet later. Price?" - Ghost called out, catching his skipper's attention. - "Can you look after Miss Diva for a second? Gotta go to the bog." "You got it, kid."
It couldn't have taken more than five minutes to take a piss, Simon rushed the entire process to be back as soon as possible. And yet, you were gone when he made it back - your coat disappeared from the hanger, your purse gone too. Jesus fucking Christ. You were giving him a run for his money. "Where is she?" - Simon demanded, burning a hole in Price's forehead. Five fucking minutes. He was meant to look after you for five fucking minutes. "Y/N got some sort of a text and said she has to leave immediately. Who am I to stop her? She's an adult. Can make her own bloody decisions." "I was just about to walk her home." "Then you should've said so. Hadn't caught that." "Right."- Ghost fumed out, turning to Cassie. - "Can you give me her number?" "Yeah, of course, let me text it to you. Want help with finding her?" "You go and enjoy the rest of the night." "Si!" - Cassie cried out as Simon turned on his heels, following him immediately. - "I'm sorry, but John's right. We weren't listening in and Y/N's a grown-up..." "It's fine, Cass. I'll find her."
You couldn't have made it far - in the state you were in, on your wobbly and unsteady legs? No way in hell you'd make it even around the block. What worried Simon, however, was the park to his right hand. The man hoped you had enough reason not to walk through it. The first thing he heard was a hiccup before you drunkardly mumbled your name, doing your best impression of being sober. "'s me. Where have you fuckin' disappeared to?" "Me? I know a lot of mes, sir. My mum told me not to talk to strangers. S-Stranger fuckin' danger an' all that, yannow?" "It's Ghost, Y/N, you slipped out of the karaoke bar. Where the hell are you, woman?" "Awwww, hiiiii. I didn't know *hiccup* you had my number?" "Got it from Cass. Can you spill the tea?" "'m on my way home." - You explained as if it weren't obvious. - "The mood for partying kinda dropped to zero, decided I gotta go check on my adorable little doggo. I missed my sweet little princess." "That's all sweet. What do you see around you?" - Thankfully, you were drunk enough not to catch onto his plan of finding you and started to talk about your surroundings. For once, Simon was grateful for drunk people being gullible and honest.
"Trees. Lots of 'em. 's kinda dark around but I'm pretty sure some food *hiccup* in the distance. Yep, right up the vein!" "Dearie, don't say this sort'f stuff so loud, yeah?" - Simon asked, turning on his heels towards the park. He could hear you giggle on the other end, the sweet sound making him grin. - "What's that about?" "Dearie is cute 'n all, but I like it when you call me love. Makes me weak in my knees 'n all." - You admitted, stuttering over your words as you tee-heed again as if you told Simon some well-guarded secret. As if Simon didn't already know. "'kay love, tell me more about your surroundings, I'm on my way to get you. Can call you love for the rest of the night if you'd fancy that." "Ohmygod..." - You sighed swiftly, chuckling at the prospect ahead. Ghost tenderly whispering 'love' the whole night sounded like a fucking dream come true. - "You'd *hiccup*... You'd like to do that?" "Wished to do so for the longest time, love."
"I can see a bistro and some... Fuckin' statue. Whatever the fuck that's *hiccup* supposed to be, it's scary." "Any benches in the area?" - Even though your description was far from eloquent, Simon knew the place you had in mind. It was a small takeaway coffee selling baked goods and hot drinks to go. He hadn't visited it, but Cass mentioned it here and there because it wasn't far from her workplace and she enjoyed going there on her lunch break. The statue, if he wasn't mistaken, was representing either Shakespeare or Peter Pan, but Simon was unable to recall it correctly at the moment. As he suspected, you didn't get far at all. "Quite a lot. Fuck, I think it's some sort'f a square or somethin'." "Sit down for me, love, I'll be there soon. Stay with me on the phone for now, yeah?" "But I miss Bonnie soooo much, Ghost, I just wanna..." - He could hear as you struggled to sit down and fell onto the bench beats later. It was hard to make out what you precisely wanted to do to Bonnie, but he could hear some humming and kisses here and there. - "She's home all alone, my poor baby." "Not for long now, I swear, we'll take off as soon as I find you. How you're feelin'?" "Haven't thrown up yet. 's a good sign, no?" "Look at you. Quite impressive given everything you've poured down your throat." "I can handle my *hiccup* fuckin' alcohol." "You sure can..." - Simon answered breathlessly, finally reaching the spot - he could see your silhouette splayed all over the bench, your coat undone, your purse lying right next to you. - "You sure can, love." - He said as he approached, having you sit up straight faster than lightning. Your expression started beaming with blissful happiness the second you laid your eyes on him.
"Hi, Ghost!" - You squealed, shoving the phone into your purse, not caring to end the call. - "You look good tonight. *hiccup* Have I told you that already?" "Not that I can recall, no. Lookin' beautiful yourself." "Now you're just making shit up, I'm fuckin' wasted, dude. Drunk people never look sexy, 's what I always said anyway." "You look amazing all the time, love, without a fail. C'mon now, let's get you home." "You mean that?" - You whispered, your eyes glued to his as he helped you to stand your feet. Without his arm around your waist guiding you forward, you'd be fucked. Everything was blurry and multiplied, you couldn't say which trees were real and which were just a fragment of your imagination. "Never meant anything more in my life. Even in the most worn-out sweatpants you own. Let me take you home now, you sexy beast." "Never say that again. Sexy beast? Love's so much better. Jesus." "Your wish is my command, ma'am." - Ghost muttered sweetly, leading you towards the bus stop. Both of you were laughing, you were right - 'sexy beast' was the most horrid-sounding pet name that ever graced Simon's lips.
As mentioned before, Simon hated being the centre of attention - everything about that made the hair on his arms stand in pure displeasure. He hated when people stared at him, fearing that he was a threat; he just wished to blend into the crowd and remain unseen and unnoticed. Let's just say... That being unnoticed in a packed double-decker in central London with a giggling, drunken mess in his arms was near impossible. For once, however, Simon wouldn't change for the world - it was endearing to feel you grasping his jacket, nuzzling yourself closer so you wouldn't fall on some stranger in such a confined space. Watching and feeling your head leaning to his chest with a confined smile, taking a relaxed breath - smelling him and listening to his heartbeat. He'd imagined this so many times. Even though the circumstances were far from perfect, everything about it made Simon happy. He'd come to rescue you from any party you'd go to just to feel the fuzzy warmth bubbling in his chest again.
When you finally arrived at your flat, the first thing you did was turn into a whiney mess - instantly, you were on your knees, your clothes leaving very little to Simon's imagination. You burrowed your head in Bonnie's fur, sobbing uncontrollably. As he locked the door behind you, Simon simply hoped it was happy, let it be ugly, crying. "She's... She's so perfect." - You sobbed, pulling Bonnie close to your chest as you looked up to Simon, your make-up absolutely ruined by that point. The dog was clueless and didn't know what was happening - it simply licked your chin feverishly, welcoming you home. - "She's the best thing in my life right nooooow..." - And now, you were whaling. Great. Drunk women were the most ferocious and dangerous creatures in the universe - Simon was adamant about that. - "I love her soooo fucking much." "Absolutely correct, love, she's our perfect little girl. How about we clean your face and change you to more comfortable clothes?" Simon whispered, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear.
Seriously, he needed you to change your clothes ASAP - he'd love anything else but watching your figure and curves (the current view alone was bringing Simon many indecent thoughts)... But drunk fucking wasn't something Riley would be interested in - if the two of you were going to have sex, it would be sober and with full consent. The man prayed to whatever gods up there to make you change into the baggiest sweatpants and shirt you had lying around to cool off his libido. As you crawled out of your bedroom in a Bristle Bears jersey with biker shorts under, the crisis was, thankfully, averted.
Twenty minutes later, you splattered over your sofa - the TV was playing in the background as you sat with your face turned to Simon. He gently ran at least the 20th makeup wipe over your face with the utmost gentleness he could muster, concentration knitting his eyebrows together. He even took the liberty of making you a cup of tea, God bless him.
The window was crooked open, the rest of his cig slowly burning out in an improvised ashtray you crafted for him. That was when Simon noticed yet another wave of tears in your eyes. "What is it, love? Did I poke your eye on accident?" "No, that's not it. Thank you for being so nice to me." - You sobbed, first tears rolling down your cheeks. Simon sighed, doing his best to keep his inner peace balanced - seeing you cry for the millionth time was both soul-crushing and tiring at the same time. "'s nothin', trust me. What's goin' on in that noggin of yours?"
"You." - It was just a whisper, but it made Simon straighten up - his head slightly tilted this shoulder, his eyebrows cocked in confusion. - "Ehm, I meant, your face. You're being so nice to me, take care of me even though you don't have to, spend your free time in that damn flower shop with me even though all I can offer is my company..." "But your company's enough for me, trust..." "... And I don't even know *sob* what you look like." - You whinced, wiggling away from his palm. You were doing your best to stop the childish tantrum, even bent your head backwards and tried pushing the tears back in. - "It just... Doesn't feel fair, yannow? I know you have your reasons for covering your face. I know I'm acting like an absolute asshole over something so minuscule right now. Do you realize how stupid I feel for crushing on someone whose face I hadn't seen? I'd recognize your eyes anywhere, but I'd like to see more. And no matter what, I can't stop wishing to see more, even though I know it won't ever happen. Like... You hadn't told me what your name is, I just got your number because you were pissed at me, you never talk about yourself, or share details... And me crying about it is the stupidest and most selfish thing fucking ever because I'm your friend, and I'm supposed to respect your fucking privacy..."
Simon didn't move for a few beats, tuning out whatever you were ranting about - not that he didn't want to listen, but because the simple confession stole his breath away. What did you just say? Crushing? You had a crush on him? Simon was ready to outright propose if you'd like to, right there on your sofa, to your whiney, drunk ass. Confirming you had true feelings for him was marvellous, stopping his mind from wondering whether just flirted around, making him out to be just a nice little distraction. You weren't. As he processed the information, he couldn't help but chuckle - the sound halted your crying and whining immediately. If you had asked him any other time, Simon would've most likely denied the request outright... But since you were both drunk, the liquid courage was making him less self-aware and more confident. Why not? Why shouldn't he just go for it? Take his chances with you?
"... And I even asked Cassie about you even though I knew I shouldn't... I'm such a fucking prick, bloody hell." "That's what you're cryin' your pretty eyes out about?" - Simon asked, completely detached from whatever you were going about for the last few minutes. "I mean... *sob* I know it's selfish 'n all, but I'd say... Fuck! Yannow, some guys on the telly said that non-verbal communication makes up to 70% of all human interactions." "All you gotta do is ask, pretty girl." - Simon murmured, his breath growing shallow - his heart was beating so fast as if it were to burst out of his fucking chest, pressure raising rapidly as he realized the insanity of what was he was about to do. He'd push the baklava off his face if his palms weren't a sweaty, trembling mess. "Ghost, I beg you - can I see what you look like?" "Take it off yourself, love."
Gently scooping closer to him, you pumped your fingers a few times to stop them from shaking. Your adrenaline shot through the roof, and you started dragging your fingers on his shoulders, slowly working your way to his neck - giving him time to process your touch and get used to the stimuli. His body felt scorching under your touch, his pulse fast under the tips of your fingers. His eyes were closed, breathing unsteady, muscles tensed up unnaturally. You could see Ghost's palm clinging to the back of your couch, his fingers buried in with a force that turned his knuckles white. As you finally started peeling the baklava off, his body shuttered, leaning away from you. As if it was an unconscious reaction, Simon didn't spend any time before sliding back within comfortable reach, already missing the comfort of your touch. "You sure it's okay for you?" "Mhm. Just keep goin'. Don't stop - if you stop, it'll kill me, darling." - Simon muttered, securing himself in place. His leg was lazily thrown over your waist so you'd sit puzzled together, Bonnie sleeping wedged into the small space. He wanted you to see. Simon wished to look you in the eyes without covering his face. He finally wished you to experience and feel all the love and adoration brewing within him. "Okay."
Much to his dismay, you were taking your bloody time, tearing the material off so agonizingly slow - one hand was lifting the fabric, your dominant hand gently caressing every inch of the newly discovered skin. Your eyes tried to memorise it all in case you wouldn't see it again - the dent in his chin, his fawn stubble, the sharp outline of his jaw, sharp contours of his cheeks, his plush and full lips and even the ugly scar reaching from his upper lip to his left nostril. Your caresses worshipped his hooked nose, the sweet dark spots under his eyes, and all the freckles standing out on his upper cheeks thanks to the area being exposed to the sun more than the rest of his place. He could feel your touches moulding his skin gently, dragging your fingers on the ugly scar on his temple, carefully tugging on his soft dirty blonde hair - then, suddenly, the baklava was fully off. Simon felt it coming, but it still surprised him; so much so that he squished his lips into a tight line, as if he tried to hide from your eyes for even a second longer. Your hand discarded the baklava almost carelessly. Knowing you've thrown Simon's most precious shield on the ground left him utterly defenceless in your arms, at the mercy of your words and actions. And yet, there was no other place he'd rather be in the entire world.
"Ghost..." - Your voice grew meek with adoration and emotion, your palms still kneading his face. It was then that he finally allowed himself to peek at you, to see your expression. Your lips were parted slightly, your face flushed with heat, your eyes scanning him adoringly. Tears were dropping on your cheeks again. This time, Simon knew they were the result of the happiness you felt, therefore he didn't comment on them. Fuck, he felt like the luckiest and most handsome man walking the Earth.
"Hey there, dolly." - Gently, his lips brushed over the inner side of your palm before he leaned back into the touch. "You're so fucking beautiful. Bonnie, look." - Picking the dog up, you pointed at Simon's face and giggled, making Simon smirk right back at you. The dog yawned, licking its mouth and shaking its head - it wasn't interested in Simon's face to reveal in the slightest. - "He's perfect. Isn't he perfect? Tell him how fucking flawless he is, come on." "You don't mean that. That's the alcohol talking." - Simon chuckled while looking away from you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he forced a gulp down his throat. Embarrassment painted his cheeks bright pink. You made him blush, you realized, staring at him with your mouth agape. The triumph made you cackle.
The duality of Ghost left you speechless - a confident, 6'4 guy not to be messed around with the mask, snarky humour, and his physical presence overwhelming you every time. This Ghost? Giggly, happy, slightly drunk. You loved how comfortable he looked with legs puzzled around your waist, his right arm leaning into the sofa as he looked everywhere around the room instead of you. You adored every inch of his dark pink blush and the entire universe that exploded, establishing itself behind his eyes. So this was the man you loved, the one you pinned after for the last few months? You loved every inch of him. Even if he'd look utterly different, you'd still be enchanted.
"Piss drunk people are always honest." - You admitted, caressing his upper arm. Were you staring? Probably. Was it making Ghost uncomfortable or flattered? Hard to tell. Could you be stopped? No. When will you get another chance like this, to fawn over his beauty in its full glory? He was everything you imagined... And much more than that.
"... I really like it when you blush." - It was a careful admission, but you meant it. You put Bonnie down on your lap again, leaning your elbow into the couch right next to his arm, so you could stare at him more comfortably. "... And I really like you." - Simon spilt without giving it too much thought, immediately realizing what he'd just said. Well, as Price often said, in for a penny - in for a pound. This was the night of admissions and confessions... At least it was turning out to be. And each little confession felt natural, lifting heaviness off his shoulders. You knew. You must've known by now. And yet, finally admitting to it felt uplifting. "I just want you to know that if I was bold enough, I'd kiss you right now, Ghost..." "Simon." - The man whispered, shutting you off. Hearing his government name lit your face up. An amazed sigh left your lips as you connected his name to his appearance, burning it into the back of your head. - "It's Simon Riley... My name's Simon Riley. I should've told you way sooner."
"Oh, Simon, Simon, Simon, Simon..." - You chanted as if you hadn't heard a more beautiful word before. Biting your lip, your hand has risen to his cheek again, cupping it gently. Hearing his own name falling off your lips like that was heavenly. - "A name for an angel rather than for a Ghost. I like that name. It suits you." "I'm glad to hear that, ma'am." - Simon didn't like it. The name reminded him of his old man way too much, connecting him to a troubled family tree, to the people who turned him into what he was. He wasn't willing to ruin the moment you shared, however. If you said his name's nice... It must've been. "And may I?" - You whispered, staring at his lips. Simon licked his lips expectedly, nodding to let you know it's fine, that he wants it too. He put his hand on your waist, holding you in place as he scooped you closer - you were puzzling himself into his arms as if you belonged there forever, being that one little silly puzzle piece he'd lost before he was born. Your knees wrapped around his waist as you palmed his t-shirt, steadying your position.
You were both taking your time, giggling excitedly, blissed with disbelief. Your breathing was tickling Simon's face, making Simon's smile widen. Your eyes closed as you positioned your elbow around his shoulders, your nails gently scratching his scalp. So close... He was so close. Your noses bumped together, warm skin dragging across each other, your breath finally stabilizing as you got ready for the final stretch. Simon could feel your lips brush against his... But the kiss didn't come. It never came, in fact. The moment Simon opened his eyes to deduce what was wrong, a snore cut through the comfortable silence in your apartment. At first, it shut Simon off. He was staring at you, holding his palms on your shoulder blades, playing with the ends of your hair - until he started laughing quietly.
He wasn't upset, God forbid angry with you. You were trolled, in the end, drinking way more than you should - he half expected to be holding your hair for you by this point of the night. Even though you hadn't really touched the first base, this night turned into everything Simon wished for. This was just his luck - the lady holding his heart in a headlock dozing off before anything happened. "She's knackered." - Simon whispered towards Bonnie lying on the ground. The cutesy dog had no idea what he was saying, but she was excited enough to nuzzle and nibble on his ankle. - "I know, sweet girl, I know. Let me put mommy to bed, and then we'll set out for a walkie, yeah?" - The man ushered as he started folding you into his arms bridal style. Upon the word 'walkie', Bonnie growled and whimpered excitedly, almost wiggling her tail off. - "Hush, you little furry beast."
The duo spent half an hour walking outside on a cold night, Simon taking his bloody time smoking a few cigarettes to calm down. Bonnie was doing her own thing, carrying various sticks to him so they could play fetch. As soon as the door to your flat opened and Bonnie's paws got cleaned, the dog sped into your bedroom, nuzzling to you - all you did in response was throw your hand over her, grunting displeasantly. Before leaving, Simon quickly put together a note.
'Thank you for one of the best nights of my life. Prepared some coffee and painkillers for you on the counter. Text me when you wake up. Love, - Simon'
#simon riley#simon riley x fem!reader#ghost cod#ghost x fem!reader#johnny mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#john price#141 cod#task force 141#cod: mw#here we go agaiiin#this one was a struggle to finish#i love how the ending turned out tho#they are such a cute lil mischevious pair
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hello 'Im sick I'll be back in a couple of days
until then please think about being on the bus fleeing from your crazy ex Johnny, and a beautiful man introducing himself as Kyle talks you up as he seems to notice your distress--
#we need more kidnapper/stalker kyle and johnny pairing#recovering but looking at the computer gives me nausea#and my body is just pain#a ball of pain#noone cares berry#gaz x reader#gaz cod#kyle gaz garrick#soap cod#johnny soap mactavish x reader
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I'm in a roll....
The 141 in grey sweatpants. đ„”
You're in a roll? Me too. A brioche roll. Or maybe a Hawaiian roll. Or rolled inside one of Price's many cigars. Kidding (not really). I knew what you meant.
And grey sweatpants...yes please! I am salivating over here. Literally drooling. And it's only grey sweatpants. No shirts. No shoes. Just sweatpants and muscle. (my god I need to go touch grass).
These are...spicy. How could they not be? It's our favorite men in nothing but grey sweatpants.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, suggestive themes, swearing, invitations for sex, dirty thoughts, sexual situations, married life, fade to black
Word Count: 2k
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
âItâs bedtime. Bath. Pajamas. Teeth.â
âBut Dad! Lucy and Iââ
âBed.â You grin into your glass as John ushers the children out of the living room. âCome on you two. I want to kiss your mother.â
âEw. Gross!â the kids screech in unison.
The trio disappears down the hallway. You hear water running and the laughter of your children. John eventually emerges thirty minutes later. He runs his hand over the top of his head, sighing heavily.
When he enters the living room and notices you, he grins mischievously. His body is on full display. Broad chest with a lovely dusting of dark hair that trails downward to disappear beneath the band of his grey sweatpants. John is all thick muscle. A wall of strength. Youâve always loved that about him. How he seems to take up so much space or the way he crushes you with his body when he goes in for a snuggle.
John plops down on the sofa beside you. The moment his ass hits the cushion, John grabs for you. You giggle, playfully pushing at your husband as his weight tips you back, pinning you to the sofa.
âThe kids,â you protest with a whisper.
âTheyâre sleeping,â he replies just as softly, keeping you pressed beneath him.
John goes in for a kiss. It is sweet. Slow. Deep. Completely indulgent. There is so much of him. And his scent is everywhere. It fills your lungs. Makes you weak.
Your lips part and John slips his tongue inside. You start to soften, to lean into his kisses. Each is salt-laced passion. A tease for later. He might have you pinned against the couch, and his tongue down your throat, but John will move this behind a locked door.
As John goes in for another kiss, the sound of a door unlatching comes from the hall. John freezes and you go still beneath him.
âFucking hell,â he mutters.
Pushing up to a more seated position, John addresses the offender with a raised voice. âYou best be in bed.â
Thereâs a gentle squeak, and then a door closing.
John sinks back down, resting his forehead against yours. He sighs heavily, and you give him a quick kiss. He returns it, and then snakes an arm under your back. He hauls you up and into his lap. You straddle him, hands pressed against his firm chest.
Through the sweatpants, you can feel his hardness pressing against your thigh. Johnâs hands roam downward to cup your buttocks, squeezing.
âReady to take this elsewhere?â he asks, grinding his hips upward.
You have to stifle a moan.
âPlease, John.â
With a light slap to your ass, he lifts you off his lap and onto your feet. The ground is solid. Steady. But then Johnâs hands return, and then youâre away, being guided down the hall to your bedroom.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
You snuggle into the couch and crack open your paperback book.
Everything is in order. You have a glass of wine, a bowl of snacks, the tableside lamp on, and a cozy blanket. Itâs late, but itâs officially the weekend. There will be plenty of time to relax.
âReading out here?â
You glance up, and find Kyle in the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall. Heâs shirtless. Without shoes. Just him, his freshly showered skin, and a pair of grey sweatpants. Kyle absently scratches at his chiseled stomach, head slightly tilted as he waits for your answer.
You canât help but focus in on every line of muscle.
âBabe,â he prompts, laughing.
âSorry?â you reply, blinking.
Kyle laughs again, the sound sweet. He strides forward, coming to a stop beside the sofa. He taps the side of his mouth. âGot some drool.â
âOh, fuck off,â you giggle, checking with a quick wipe with the back of your hand.
Kyleâs smile is infectious. You canât help but match it.
âCan I join you?â he asks, already lifting the blanket.
âYouâre not going out with the boys?â
Kyle shakes his head. With one hand he lifts the blanket, and with the other he grabs your legs and lifts. He slides in, and drapes your legs over his lap before returning the blanket to drape over your body. Keeping one hand under the blanket, Kyle rests his hand on your inner thigh. It stirs heat in your core.
âTomorrow,â he yawns. âSimon has a sick kid.â
âBummer.â
Kyle shrugs, draping his over arm over the back of the couch. His hand on your thigh is a brand, and itâs only made worse when he starts massaging.
âIs it a spicy one?â asks Kyle, nodding toward your book.
Yes.
âMaybe,â you say slowly.
Kyle smirks, and then the book is out of your hand.
âKyle!â You reach for it, but he twists, blocking your forward momentum.
He examines the pages in front of him. Heat rushes into your cheeks. As he reads, his eyes widen.
Kyleâs mouth drops open.
âWhat?â you prompt. You try to snag the book but he blocks you.
He glances at you. âAre you aware of where heâs putting that gun?â
âItâs fictional.â
âWhen you ask me to recreate thingsââ
âKyleââ
ââis this what youâre talking about?â His gaze goes from you to the book and then to you again. âIâm down for a lot of things, love, but Iâm not sure Iâm down for that.â
Pushing off from the couch, you snatch the book out of Kyleâs hands. He surrenders it easily, a smile on his perfect face. The blanket is a crumbled mess beside him, but thatâs not what youâre focused on.
The grey sweatpants have shifted, exposing more of the deep v of his pelvis. But itâs not just that. Kyle is hard. That is very clear.
He leans against the back of the couch, throwing both arms out to rest over the top. Flexing his hips, Kyle puts himself on display.
âIâve got something else I can put inside you.â
John "Soap" MacTavish
A delighted shriek comes from the kitchen.
Johnny emerges, completely unbothered even with the two children in his arms. He has the oldest child, who just turned five, sideways and tucked under one arm. The boy has a wicked smile of his face even as he wiggles, trying to free himself from his fatherâs grasp. Itâs fruitless.
The other child, a boy of three, keeps shrieking with delight even as Johnny lifts him into the air by his ankle. He is upside down, arms flailing, his brown hair hanging below him.
Johnny doesnât even blink. Doesnât even break a sweat. He carries the two of them like itâs nothing.
Heâs almost completely naked except for a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips. They show off the deep v of his pelvis, and the dusting of dark hair that spreads over his chest and descends downward. Youâve touched that chest so many times. You know it as well as you know yourself.
Johnnyâs gaze is on the television, watching the football match. The kids still shriek and playfully claw at him. But he remains unbothered.
Sitting there on the sofa, you consider that a third kid might not be so bad. Youâd give him a small army if he asked.
Johnny glances away from the television, and when his gaze lands on you, it is entirely knowing. Heat curls in your belly, and his smile widens.
âFound these gremlins digging in the pantry,â he says, indicating the kids by hoisting the three-year old higher into the air and squeezing the other tighter against him.
Both kids giggle manically.
âAfter brushing their teeth.â Johnny tuts. âWhatâs to be done?â
Both children continue to giggle, not answering their father.
âSounds like itâs time for bed,â you muse.
The children groan.
âBut Iâm not tired,â moans the five-year old.
âToo bad,â laughs Johnny. âCome on.â
He doesnât put them down. He carries them like that all the way to their bedroom. Even from your spot on the sofa, you can hear their manic giggling. After a while, it quiets down, and Johnny emerges from the hall.
Instead of sitting down on the couch next to you, he grabs the remote and shuts off the television.
âNot interested in the game?â you ask.
âNope. Want something else.â
His sultry smile tells you enough.
Slowly, he approaches, coming to a stop in front of you. He offers his hand, and you take it. With little effort, Johnny brings you to your feet, and hauls you close. Your free hand immediately rises, pressing against his chiseled stomach.
âWhat is it that you want?â you murmur, already knowing the answer.
His hardness presses against your belly, his voice going low and gravelly as he speaks. âIâd like to spend some time between those gorgeous thighs.â
âDoing what?â
âWhatever I very well please.â
Simon "Ghost" Riley
This is agony. A terrible joke.
Simon is right there. Sweaty. Shirtless. In nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants.
Heâs completely in the zone. Heavy metal blares through the stereoâs speakers, drowning out the sound of his gloved fists striking the punching bag. Morning light pours in from the open window, giving Simon an ethereal glow.
You watch from the doorway, chewing on your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to pounce on him. Simon is all muscle, and not in a gym rat way. He is thick everywhere. You want to lick the sweat from his skin, to drop to your knees before him, and tug those grey sweatpants down.
You know what youâd find. And it sounds delicious.
But he is in the zone. And you wonât disturb him.
Pushing down the naughty thoughts, you start to turn away, to return to the kitchen and find something to eat for breakfast.
The music abruptly cuts off.
âSee something you like, love?â
Simonâs raspy voice draws you back to the room. With one hand on the doorframe, you meet his gaze, and promptly melt into the floor. He has a cocky grin on his face, and his shoulders heave slightly from exhaustion.
You lick your lips. âAlways,â you reply, fingers digging into the wood.
Simonâs gaze scans you. You feel exposed, like he can see through your clothes. Itâs knowing. Amused.
âWhat is it?â you prompt, staring just as hard as he is.
Simon removes one glove and then the other. He tosses them to the side, never taking his eyes off you.
âCome here,â he says.
You donât move.
Simon arches a single eyebrow. Instead of repeating himself, he gestures with one finger, indicating that he wants you to come to him.
Heat rushes from your cheeks down to your toes. Slowly, you peel yourself away from the door, heading for him. Simonâs natural swagger is alluring, and those sweatpants sit so low.
Just one tug. Thatâs all it would take. And youâd be able to take him in your mouth.
As you approach, Simon reaches out, grabbing your waist, tugging you close to him. You instinctually hook your finger in the waistband of his grey sweatpants.
Simon smirks.
You inhale deeply, savoring the manly musk of him.
âHungry?â he asks.
âNot for breakfast,â you sigh.
âFor something else then?â
You nod.
Simon leans in but doesnât kiss you. He holds back slightly, lips curved into a hint of a smile. âWant to hear what I have in mind?â
âYes,â you breathe.
Simon presses his thumb on your bottom lip. âI can fill that mouth.â His thumb drops away from your lips, and trails over your chin before brushing over your stomach. âAnd belly.â
His gaze stays on you. âWhat do you think of that, love?â
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@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett
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@taysarchive @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im
#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 imagine#task force 141#task force 141 fanfic#task force 141 fic#task force 141 x female reader#task force 141 x you#task force 141 smut#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#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#john mactavish fanfiction#captain john price#john soap mactavish#john price#john price cod#soap call of duty#soap cod#soap mw2#soap mactavish#gaz smut#cw: suggestive#cw: smut#dad!141
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ă stay for something
đ pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem reader
đ 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.Â
Itâs just a shame that the guy is a bit of a moron.Â
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 heâs going to ask any questions about you. He does (eventually), but theyâre short and perfunctory and he seems to just take your answers and use them as a springboard into his next topic of discussion.
Itâs 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.
Youâre not proud of it, but you donât think you can handle the dry spell youâre going through anymore. You crave touch, affection, some kind of connection. Youâre okay with being single, but god youâre so hungry for intimacy that itâs led to you agreeing to a date with a guy that you honestly wouldnât have normally been into just for the chance of getting some action.
Ben is a nice enough guy, and heâs certainly good looking; neatly groomed hair, straight white teeth, a nice physique. Heâs in good shape, though you canât help but subconsciously compare him toâÂ
No, you think sternly to yourself, Donât 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, itâs been a long time since you were touched.
Your place is closer, and you canât 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 youâll be the first to admit that youâre needy tonight.Â
The weather is getting colder as winter creeps its icy fingers through the air, but youâre 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 youâre delighted to find that heâs a good kisser.
The two of you stumble through the door, your arms locked around his neck as he holds you by the waist. Itâs a little embarrassing how eager you are for a guy that you really arenât even all that into, but you guess thatâs just where desperation has gotten you.
âShit,â Ben hisses when you nip at his lip. âFuck, youâre so hot. Câmere, take this off.â
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.Â
You tilt your head back, thunking lightly against the wall, and your eyelids flutter at the nipping kisses along your sensitive skin.Â
âOh, godâŠâ 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 hadnât turned them on when you came in, and you know that they werenât on when you had left.Â
Ben is still groping eagerly at your hips, one hand reaching around to squeeze at your ass, but now youâre 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 thatâs 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 doesnât 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.
âHey, baby,â Kyle fucking Garrick says, lifting a mug patterned with little cartoon cats to his mouth. âHad a nice night out?â
âJesus Christââ You hiss, shoving at Benâs chest. This time, the push isnât needed, because Ben has rocketed up straight at the sound of another manâs voice in your house calling you âbabyâ.
âWhat theââ Ben starts to say, his brow furrowing into a bewildered frown when he catches sight of Gaz standing in the doorway watching you.
âKyle, what are you doing here?â You snap, mortified. You grab at the bottom of your short little dress, pulling roughly at it to try and make sure youâre not flashing anyone.
Gaz watches you, amusement shining in his dark eyes. Heâs 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.
âHome from deployment earlier than expected, love.â He says, calm and casual as if he hasnât just broken into your goddamn house to destroy any hope you had of getting railed that night. âNo time to find accommodation. You donât mind, eh?â
Benâs head is swinging between the two of you, his expression blank as he tries to work out just what exactly is happening. Heâs straightened up entirely, the presence of Gaz obviously putting him on edge. You canât blame him for his confusion; Gaz is currently looking at you like he wants to fucking eat you alive, and youâre beginning to get hot and flustered under his stare.
âAre youââ Ben starts, his head still on a swivel as though he canât decide who to address. âIâm sorry, who is this?â
Gaz doesnât 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 doesnât seem like heïżœïżœïżœs all too impressed by what he sees, though heâs smirking as though heâs amused.
âSergeant Kyle Garrick.â He says at last, with a nod.
You huff. You know what heâs doing â he never introduces himself by his rank unless heâs trying to make a point.
Ben goes stiff. Heâs still pressed against you, and you can feel every ounce of tension down the line of your body. It seems like heïżœïżœs just now clocking Gaz as a proper threat, and you take a breath as you realise that heâs about to split and leave you here.
And sure enoughâ
âIâ Listen, I donât know whatâs.. whatâs going on here, but I donât want any trouble.â Ben says, finally pushing himself away from you. Heâs holding his hands up by his shoulders as though heâs being held at gunpoint, and you roll your eyes impatiently at his dramatics.
âNo trouble, mate.â Gaz says, his voice still cheerfully amiable. âDoorâs behind you.â
âGazââ You hiss, incensed, but itâs pointless.Â
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 Benâs 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.
âYou look good, baby.â He says, staring pointedly at the way your breasts are all pushed up in your tight dress.Â
âDonât call me that.â You grumble, teaching down to unbuckle your delicate heels. You cast them aside and kick them over so theyâre laying beside Gazâs 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. Itâs 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. Itâs like he has a fucking radar for when youâre about to get laid.
âYou could have gotten a hotel.â You snap over your shoulder as you make your way to the kettle. Itâs already hot, but you flick the switch again anyway.
âNah. Theyâre all booked out. Busy season, you know.â
God, heâs 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.
âYou could have stayed with one of the guys.â You say, turning around and folding your arms over your chest.
Gaz glances down, and you realise that youâve inadvertently pushed your breasts together and up. You hastily drop your arms again, and settle instead for planting your hands on your hips.
âCould have,â He admits, leaning against your kitchen table in a way thatâs infuriatingly casual. âBut they never offered.â
âNeither did Iâ!â
Gaz doesnât 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.
âGo get changed,â He murmurs, keeping his voice low like he knows the moment is delicate. âWeâll watch a movie.â
Youâd love to get fired up, to shove him or curse at him, but itâs all you can do to find the strength to step away from him instead of melting into him. Youâre 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 â it might look good, but thereâs 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.Â
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 youâre 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. Itâs far from the way you wanted to end your night, but youâve 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.
âThere she is.â He crows, though thereâs something soft in his gaze that you can hardly face. âCâmon, love. Want to pick what weâre watching?â
You just look at him tiredly. Heâs as handsome as ever; the prettiest boy youâve ever seen. He must have come straight here once heâd gotten back from deployment because his eyes are dark and exhausted and stubble is a little more overgrown than usual. You hate that heâs able to come into your space like this so easily â like heâs never left.
âGazââ You start to say, but youâre 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.
âShhh, câmon. Just sit with me.â 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.Â
âStick to your side of the couch.â 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; itâs not touching you, but you have no doubt that heâll try to before the end of the night.
He sticks on some stupid movie on Netflix. You donât pay attention. Itâs a rom-com, which is typical. He always pretends he chooses the sappy romantic films for your benefit, but youâre 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. Itâs always been something that youâre impossibly fond of.
The two of you are silent for a while, but itâs not uncomfortable. Part of you wishes that it was awkward â 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. Youâre still a little tipsy from the drinks youâd had at dinner, and you melt into the couch beside him a little quicker than you think you would have otherwise.
âYou ruined my night, you know.â You say at last, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.
To your surprise, heâs already looking at you. You glance away hastily again, not wanting to make eye contact.
âNah,â He says, and you feel his arm dip down a little. Heâs cupping your shoulders now, and you should probably move away, but you donât. âIf anything, I saved you from having a long, disappointing night with some tosser you agreed to pity-date. He didnât exactly look like your type, darling.â
âHe was a perfectly nice guy.â You bite out, crossing your arms defensively over your belly in your big t-shirt.
âNice guys donât end the first date by groping your ass and humping you up against your wall in your own house.â He says, and if youâre not mistaken youâd say he sounds a little bitter.
You cast a sideways glance at him. Heâs sitting up, watching you closely and leaning just slightly towards you. Heâs so intense about the way heâs looking at you, his arm dipping low so that heâs holding you properly.
âStop it.â You say. It hardly even sounds like a proper protest. Youâre so tired, still a little floaty from the wine youâd had at dinner, and desperately disappointed by the lack of sexual satisfaction you had been hoping for.
Thereâs 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 canât even be angry about the cockiness of his expression when his eyes are that soft though.
âSorry, sweetheart.â He murmurs. âIâm not being fair, am I?â
âNo,â You say petulantly. âYouâre not.â
He huffs a noise thatâs almost a laugh, only he manages to stifle it so that it comes out as a cough instead.Â
âMm. Iâm sorry. Didnât mean to ruin your big date night, especially when you got done up so pretty for it,â He murmurs, his voice low and sweet as honey trickling down your spine. âLet me make up for it. Come on, get over here.â
You hesitate, but Gaz isnât 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 heâs 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.Â
Itâs definitely a bad idea to cuddle with him on the couch like this. Youâre trying to set boundaries, to make it clear that youâre just friends (if you can even call it that) after your breakup. And yet⊠you donât offer any sort of protest at all.
âRelax,â Gaz sighs from behind you, and you feel his nose nuzzle against the back of your neck. âYou love cuddling.â
You roll your eyes, turning your head slightly so he can see the unimpressed expression on your face.Â
âThis isnât enough to make up for being such a dick.â You grumble. Despite your griping, you donât 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.Â
But youâre not together anymore, and itâs hard to ignore the gnawing guilt that youâre 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 canât 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.Â
Tonight was a moment of weakness for you, and though your hopes for sex may have been thwarted, you canât turn down the soft familiar intimacy of Gazâs strong body cradling you close against him.
Maybe itâs the wine you had at dinner, but you find your muscles relaxing a little as one of Gazâs arms loops around your waist, his big hand coming to rest across your belly.
âMm. Iâm being selfish, love.â He murmurs, and you fight a shiver as his warm breath ghosts over the delicate shell of your ear. âThis is more for me than for you.â
Youâre not altogether sure thatâs true. Itâs 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.Â
Youâve 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 heâs blocking out the rest of the world for you. You can only guess he feels the same â 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.
âYou canât keep doing this.â You mumble, though all the fight has gone out of you. âItâs not⊠helpful.â
Thereâs a moment of silence, and then Gaz shifts behind you. His arm tightens around your waist almost imperceptibly, as though he thinks youâre going to push him away. But youâre being selfish now too, comfortably wrapped up against his chest.
âWe said weâd stay friends,â He says at last, and heâs so close that you can feel his lips move against the back of your neck as he speaks. âNothinâ wrong with some platonic cuddling. You should see how close me anâ Soap have had to cuddle to conserve heat when weâre out on the field.â
You huff a small laugh, which is obviously what he had been hoping for. Platonic cuddling. This certainly doesnât feel platonic, but you canât bring yourself to push him away. Youâve 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 wouldnât have brought with him such a complicated web of feelings and history, but thereâs a real sense of comfort in the familiarity of Gazâs presence.
The film Gaz had chosen to stick on is a stupid one. Itâs 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. Youâve seen a hundred versions of this plot play out in other films, though Gaz is predictably glued to the screen. Heâs always loved these stupid films.
Youâre comfortable enough that you fall into a light doze, uninterested in the television as you relish the heat from Gazâs chest. Heâs 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.
Youâre almost asleep when movement from behind you jolts you back to wakefulness. For a moment, you wonder if youâve imagined it. Then Gaz moves again, and this time itâs unmistakable.
Gaz is hard, the thick ridge of him impossible to miss as he presses against your ass. Youâre awake instantly, the slight tipsiness from dinner vanishing into thin air. Youâre on high alert, eyes darting back to the television to see what the fuck has aroused him, but thereâs nothing of note happening onscreen. Itâs just a conversation between characters, exposition setting up the next stage of the plot.
âGaz,â You say, and your voice comes out louder than you had intended. âStop humping my ass.â
Youâre half-expecting him to deny it, but he just huffs a quiet snort, his nose nuzzling against the back of your neck.
âSorry, love.â He says, though he doesnât sound sorry in the least. âCanât help it. Missed you loads.â
You can feel his cock even through the layers of your clothing, and you swallow hard. God, youâve missed it. Youâve missed him, though it doesnât 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 Godâs name heâs been, when he holds you so sweetly and talks to you like youâre still his girl?
His hips rock into you in a movement thatâs almost imperceptible, except youâre waiting for it. His hands are gripping your waist, his fingers curling into the soft flesh there. Heâs always enjoyed the way your body yields to him, so much softer than the hard planes of muscle that make up his own, and itâs no surprise that he goes straight back to holding onto his favourite parts of you even as he ruts against your ass.
âJesus, Gazââ You start to complain, but your voice is a little too breathy to be convincingly angry.
âStop that,â He murmurs, his lips pressing against the side of your neck. âYou never call me that.â
That is true â after the breakup, calling him Kyle just seemed too intimate. Itâs 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.
âKyle,â You concede tiredly. âYou dickhead.â
He just hums. He knows you well enough to know that youâre not really angry; youâre not even attempting to move away from him, though you know you should. The film is mostly forgotten in the background, though youâre 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 donât move.
The way heâs 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. Itâs 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 thatâs mostly muffled by the way heâs 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. Youâre almost afraid to even turn around to glance over your shoulder at him, as though making eye contact might mean youâll both wake up and stop.
Gazâs cock has gotten even harder, filling out thickly as he slots against the clothed groove of your ass. Heâs not even touching your pussy, and yet your knickers are slick and sticky. Itâs 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 itâs 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, youâre almost disappointed.Â
You tilt your head, just barely turning it, just enough to see that heâs just pulled out his cock.
âKyleââ
âSorry, baby,â He says again, panting against the side of your neck and making you shiver. ââ âm just too hard, getting uncomfortable. Ignore it.â
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. Youâve missed the sight of that. He has the prettiest cock youâve ever seen, even if right now itâs 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.
âBeen thinking of you for months, baby.â He murmurs, placing a wet, messy kiss on your throat. âI canât even fucking cum properly when youâre not around, itâs not the fucking same. God, even missed the way you smellââ
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 itâs also Gazâs favourite one. You tell yourself itâs a coincidence.
âWhy didnât you fuck someone else then? Get it out of your system?â 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, heâs 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.
âWhy would I do that when I had a girl waiting for me at home?â He asks, his voice so soft with you. âNever wanted anyone else.â
Your toes curl, guilt coiling in your stomach. You hate that you feel pleased that heâs waited for you, that he doesnât want anyone else. Youâre not being fair â 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 canât pretend that you wouldnât have been sick to your stomach if he admitted that he had.Â
God, you feel like such a hypocrite. Here you are, admittedly all too happy that Gaz has stayed faithful to a relationship that isnât even intact anymore, and there he is, having just witnessed you come home with a strangerâs hands all over you.
âWeâre not together anymore.â You whisper, when what you want to say is Iâm sorry.
âI know.â Gaz replies, and it sounds like For now.
Itâs 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 thatâs pulled from your throat when his long fingers coast over the front of your knickers, finding your clothed clit with unerring accuracy.
âOh, lace, baby?â He says, his breath catching in his eagerness before realisation seems to set in. âOh. This was for your little date, eh?â
The guilt again, gnawing in your chest. You arch your back, simultaneously shying away and crowding your ass back up against him. Itâs 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.
âI wasââ You start to say breathily, but Gaz doesnât let you finish.
âItâs alright, sweetheart,â He murmurs, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. âI know, I know. But he didnât deserve it, didnât deserve you. Jesus, he didnât even know what he fuckinâ had, ran like a cowardââ
âGazââ You try again. You canât help but feel as though you need to explain yourself, like the two of you should talk this through.
âYouâre so soft, Jesus Christ.â He mutters, the side of his hand rubbing at the squishy flesh of your thighs as he strokes at your clit. âWere you always this soft?â
It sounds as though heâs 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.
âI got a new body oil.â You breathe, distracted by his touch. âItâsâ itâs vanilla scented.â
âYeah,â He groans, and you shiver helplessly when you feel his tongue on your neck, licking a hot stripe up to your earlobe. âI can smell it.â
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.
âWaitââ 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. Itâs a little embarrassing, especially when the cool air hits your slick, sticky thighs and you shiver.
âOh god, fuck,â He groans, his plush lips dragging along the sensitive skin at the back of your neck. âYouâve ruined yourself, baby.â
Itâs embarrassing to admit it, but itâs true. The dry spell youâve 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 youâve never been touched before, and you squirm backwards in an attempt to get any kind of friction again.
âKyleââ You start to complain, but you donât 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.
âLet me put the tip in, baby.â He says, his voice gruff and wanting in your ear. âLiterally just the tip, thatâs it, huh? Itâs not like actual fucking, right?â
In this moment, you think youâd 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 itâs like your body had some kind of Pavlovian response to Gazâs touch because now youâre practically panting for him.
Heâs right, after all. Itâs not really fucking. It means that you can maintain the flimsy thin pretence that this means nothing.
âOkay.â You manage to say, though it comes out humiliatingly breathy. âYeah, okay, the tipââ
Gazâs 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.Â
Youâve gone long enough without getting laid that thereâs a slight sting as he presses into you, but itâs overshadowed by the breathless relief. God, youâd 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.
âOh, fuck, baby.â Gaz moans throatily, the vibration of it rumbling right down your spine. âJesus fuckinâ Christ, youâre so tight.â
âMph,â 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 doesnât. 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 heâd abandon his promise to just stick that first inch of his cock inside, that heâd slam home and stretch you wide and let his cock brush against the nerves just a little deeper inside you. But thatâs not Gazâs style; you know heâs 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. Youâre 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 itâs taking to stop himself plunging fully inside.
âOh god,â He breathes, sounding wrecked in your ear. âYou feel even better than I remember.â
You donât know how he can even say that when heâs barely even inside you, but no matter how much you wiggle and squirm, he just wonât slide any deeper.
âYouâre such an asshole.â You slur out against the fabric of the couch, your cheek squished against the cushions. Your chin is a little wet â are you drooling?
Infuriatingly, Gaz doesnât even argue.
âMm.â He grunts, kissing the curve of your neck. âWhatâd I do this time?â
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.
âJust⊠just put the rest of it in.â You say, craning your neck to try and look at him.Â
Your eyes are wide and wet, pathetically teary. Youâve been craving intimacy like this for weeks now. Maybe longer, if youâre being honest with yourself. Itâs the kind of pleasure youâve only ever gotten from Gaz, and you wheeze as your body opens up under his touch. God, you donât know how you thought anyone would ever be able to fuck you like Gaz does.
âMm, you sure, baby?â He murmurs, nosing against the back of your skull. âThought we were just cuddling.â
âDonât be a dick.â 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 itâs what you had been demanding, the abruptness of it startles you and you yowl, your back arching.
âSh, sh, shh, sorry, love.â Gaz pants, before sighing in wordless contentment as his broad chest curves around your back, his strong arm looping around your belly. âOh, fuck. Missed this so much, you have no idea. I swear you were made for me, I couldnât fit as well inside anyone else.â
âJustâ just move.â You whine, a little plaintive. Itâs humiliating how desperate you are, but thereâs no turning back now. âPlease, Kyleââ
Gaz pitches into movement instantly, as though heâs got something to prove. Or maybe heâs just worried that youâre going to change your mind. His hips pull back then snap forward again, and again.Â
Heâs 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.Â
âOh.â 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, youâve been craving physical touch like this for months, since the last time you had seen Gaz. Itâs 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.
âKyle,â You whine, searching for something. You donât even know what youâre 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 itâs exposed as you lean your head back. The arm thatâs 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.Â
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. Itâs with a sense of tired resignation that you acknowledge youâre going to come on Gazâs dick, despite your original intentions for the evening. Typical.Â
But heâs not going to last either, judging by the strained moans in your ear.
âShit,â 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 Gazâs humping into you from behind, that Gaz has been yearning in your absence in the same way you have for him. Youâre 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 doesnât seem to mind. If anything, the evidence that you want him too only seems to encourage him.Â
Your eyes are half-closed as you fuck your hips back on Gazâs cock, relishing the satisfied little cries heâs 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 Gazâs 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 canât 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.Â
That familiar ball of tension starts tightening in your abdomen, your body winding up for a long-awaited and much needed release. Itâs so typical that this orgasm feels like itâs 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.
âNo!â You blurt, and it comes out almost as a wail. âWhat are you doing?â
âSorry, baby.â Gaz says a little breathlessly. âNeed you to turn over. Want to see you.â
As soon as you realise that heâs not trying to stop and that heâs just trying to reposition you, youâre quick to roll over so that youâre facing him. It seems like thatâs exactly what he wanted, because he grins wide and reaches for your hips, eagerly pulling you closer.
âFuck, youâre so pretty.â He mumbles, his eyes like warm caramelised honey as they track over your face.Â
Youâre pretty sure heâs full of shit; youâre panting like youâve run a marathon, youâre sweaty, your hair is dishevelled, and youâre still wearing the ugly sweatshirt you had put on earlier. Yet, even still, Gazâs genuine little compliment has your heart flipping in your ribcage.
You canât 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 youâve rolled over to face him, his hands are roaming over your hips and ass like heâs trying to memorise the feel of you by touch alone.Â
Embarrassingly, youâre no better â 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. Itâs 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 heâs 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 heâs grinding into you deep, deeper than you thought was possible.Â
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.
âOh god.â You say without meaning to. The sound of your voice shocks you; you sound wrecked, as though youâve been fucking for hours. It would have been embarrassing to reveal just how affected you were if Gaz wasnât also clearly just as eager for it.
âYeah,â 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. âFuck, Iâm gonna come.â
You are too, you realise wildly. Youâre struck by how quickly youâve both gotten to this point. This whole encounter has been frenzied and feverish, as though the poorly stifled desire between you had turned explosive.Â
Gaz kisses you again, and his teeth clack against yours slightly as he licks into your mouth. Itâs messy and wet, and it sends a delicious throb of pleasure shooting through your belly. Heâs acting so possessive that itâs making your head spin. It should definitely be sending warning bells ringing in your head, or red alarms flashing in your minds eye â it canât be a good thing that your ex-boyfriend is currently fucking you on your couch like heâs trying to claim you. But youâre 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. Itâs frenzied and hot, and you swear the air itself is crackling as he kisses sloppily at your neck and fucks you hard.
âLove you,â He slurs in your ear, breathless. âLove you so much, baby.â
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.
âTell me you love me,â He pleads, âPleaseâ tell me you fuckinâ love me, baby. I know you do. I know youââ
You shouldnât say it. You canât say it. Yet his cock is fucking you sloppy and stupid, and your mouth moves before you even register that youâre speaking.
âLove you too,â 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 youâre so, so close to orgasm.
The ache in your abdomen persistsâ 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. Youâre so close, so so closeâ 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 youâre about to cry. Youâre burning beneath your skin and all you want to do is gnash your teeth into the elegant line of Gazâs throat, to leave some kind of indelible mark on his lovely smooth skin.
âPlease, please, pleaseâ yes, fuckâ oh, Kyle,â Your words come out on the breath of an uneven gasp, stuttering with each movement of his hips, perfectly synchronized.Â
His voice is low and hot in your ear as he pants, âLet me come inside you, babyâ let me, pleaseâ fuck.â Â
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.
âYes.â 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. âYes, inside, pleaseââ
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.
âOh, oh.. Kyle, pleaseââ You practically sob, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders. âLove you, love you, oh my god, Iâm gonna comeââ
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 â not that you want to escape so much as a second of it, of course.
âThatâs my girl, always so fucking perfect.â He snarls as your body eagerly takes every dirty roll of his hips, palming at your thigh where itâs hitched over his hip. âFuckinâ Christ, Iâve been dreaming of your cunt for fucking months, never wanted anything elseââ
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 youâre falling apart. Your body seizes around the hot flesh of Gazâs cock, your mind going white as your cunt spasms, your hole clamping down and pulsing with every desperate, loud moan torn from your mouth.Â
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.Â
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.
Itâs 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.
âFuck. I'mââ Your hands slap clumsily at his shoulders, reaching for anything to hold on to, but he doesnât stop. "Kyle. Kyleâ" Itâs 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 itâs uncompromising, just skirting the edge of painfully overwhelmingâ
He breaks, shoulders trembling, head bowed into the curve of your neck as he lets out a long, desperate moan. Itâs 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 isnât 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 heâs worried heâll blow away into the wind without anchoring himself to you. His hips slow, but donât 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 youâre not thinking about anything at all.
âPlease, Kyle.â You slur out stupidly. You have no idea what youâre even asking for; thereâs just some vague, barely formed desperation floating around your painfully blank mind as you search for something.
âMm.â Gaz hums. It feels like heâs 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.
Gazâs chest rumbles with a low, lovely laugh, his voice gravelly from his climax. âYouâre overflowing, sweetheart.â
You let out a careless little sigh, before relaxing experimentally. You can feel a gush of warm seed begin to ooze out around Gazâs 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. Youâve just fucked your ex, told him you loved him, then let him come inside. With no condom. God, youâre stupid. But the wave of horror youâre 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.Â
âYouâre gonna get cum on the couch.â 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 itâs only further compounded by the sensation of his cock gradually softening inside you.
âIâll get it cleaned, love.â He drawls lazily, leaning in to kiss your swollen lips. âOr pay for a new one. Whichever you want.â
When you kiss him back he sighs fondly, one thumb stroking over your cheekbone. Youâre still limp in his arms, boneless and spent as you wriggle greedily into his arms. His cock is still lodged inside you, and youâre 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.
âYou made a mess.â You mumble against his lips.Â
Youâre being a little unfair, considering your own slick is coating your thighs and Gazâs lower belly, but Gaz has always rolled with even the most unreasonable attitude youâve 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.
âThink we both did, doll.â 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 Gazâs arms. Thereâs something to be said for how safe you feel with him, as much as youâd 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 heâs kissing you like that.Â
âFuck.â You breathe, closing your eyes with a sigh. Itâs slow, but youâre finally starting to think again. âWe shouldnâtâ we should have used a condom.â
Gazâs eyes are lidded with fond amusement as he watches you quietly. His hand kneads at your breast absent-mindedly, as though heâs forgotten that heâs groping at you.Â
âDonât overthink it,â He murmurs, kissing your forehead again. âI saw your box of pills in the bathroom. And Iâm clean. Havenât been with anyone but you.â
You tremble a little at his admission, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You feel like youâre losing your mind. Gaz is the most beautiful man youâve ever met, funny and sweet and always so caring. You love him, even if it kills you a little to admit it, and you donât know how to respond to his admission that heâs been faithful to you during the long months you werenât together.
Gaz misinterprets whatever expression is on your face, thumb stroking soothingly over your cheek again. âWe can get you a morning-after pill, if itâll make you feel better.â
You donât bother correcting him. Youâre not that fussed over the morning-after pill â youâre 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 youâd never been apart in the first place. You wonder how you could ever have been thick enough to think that someone else could fill Gazâs place in your life.
As if he knows what youâre thinking, Gazâs lips twitch. âThat pillock you brought home wouldâve been such a disappointment, darling.â
You canât stop your eyes from rolling, exasperated.Â
âYou donât know that.â You grumble, though you donât pull away. Youâre still all curled up against his chest, skin still slick and sticky from rapidly cooling sweat, your leg still slung over Gazâs hip to keep his now-soft cock nestled inside you.
âSure I do.â 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. âShe missed me, gorgeous. Donât think she would have liked some strange tosser pounding away at her with no idea how to please her.â
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 havenât come that hard in months, not since the breakup.
âOh, shut up.â You sigh tiredly.
He snickers, and then shifts. It takes you a moment to realise that heâs pulling his hips back preparing to pull out. Your brain stalls, and you wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders in protest. Youâre not ready to feel the invasive, aching emptiness that will no doubt throb through your core as soon as heâs not filling you up.Â
âStay.â 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. Youâre 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.
âNot going nowhere.â He mumbles, one hand stroking over your flank to soothe you. âIâm on leave for at least a month.â
âYeah?â
âMhm.â Gaz hums. He must sense that this is a delicate moment, because he doesnât make any ribald jokes about having all month to fuck you like youâre expecting him to. He just presses a tender kiss to your temple, his lips lingering gently.
Usually, youâd probably be a little embarrassed by how clingy youâre being. You had been so damn determined not to fall into bed with Gaz after the breakup, but youâre 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 canât see his stupid handsome face.
Heâs obviously pleased with the way youâre snuggling into him, because his chest rumbles as he hums in satisfaction. Heâs holding you tight like he thinks youâre going to slip away the moment he blinks.
âYou okay?â He asks quietly.
You donât answer immediately. Thereâs 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 heâd spilled inside of you rather than cuddling with him on the couch. Thereâs no way that you can claim that this was just a case of needing to get laid; youâre still clutching at him like a limpet, the two of you intertwined so tight that itâs difficult to tell when your limbs end and Gazâs begin.
âIâm tired.â You sigh eventually, sidestepping the conversation that you know youâll have to deal with eventually.
No doubt Gaz notices your not particularly subtle avoidance, but he doesnât 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.
âLetâs get you to bed then,â He murmurs, and then he surprises you by sitting up. Youâre 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.
Youâre 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. Itâs 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 isnât 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.
âLet me take you out tomorrow, sweetheart.â He says, and beneath his usual cocky countenance you hear the edge of a plea. âIâll make up for ruining your date tonight. You can wear that little dress from earlier for me again.â
You feel exposed, stripped bare as you perch in Gazâs lap. His hand strokes evenly over your spine, waiting patiently for your response.
âI want a fancy dinner.â You mumble, your fingers curling around his shoulders. âAt a nice restaurant.â
You hear a shaky little exhale, and Gazâs arms tighten around your waist. It strikes you that heâs 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 canât quite bear to wonder if youâve been wasting time for these past few months that youâve been broken up.Â
âWhatever you want.â He says it like a prayer, tilting his head in search of your lips again.
The kiss is easy, the months that youâve been apart dissolving into nothing. Youâre a little too stubborn to give in entirely and beg for him back just yet though, but you doubt it matters. Youâve already admitted your weakness for him in the middle of shagging, and youâre not stupid enough to hope that heâs somehow forgotten it. Youâve been trying so hard to shove all those feelings down deep, but youâre not too surprised that theyâve all come bubbling out. Heâs got a month of leave. You have no doubt that heâs going to use that time to change your mind. You find that you donât 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. Heâs not pushing, but you can see the weight of desire and yearning in every inch of his face. No doubt itâs mirrored on your own. You donât think you could ever look into his pretty face and deny him anything.
You hum, then whisper the only answer you could ever give.
âYeah. Okay. Itâs a date, then.â
#why was it so hard to find a cute pic of him with no big fuckin union jack splashed across him#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#cod smut#cod fic#kyle gaz garrick
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It's a Match! || 141 x Reader
[ Chapter 13 ] || [ Chapter 15 ]
Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.6K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: this is purely self-indulgent. I wanted them to kiss.
Click here to see some fanart of this chapter by my lovely moot @xxshadowbabexx.
Chapter 14: (B)romance?
After that conversation, things got slightly easier. You found yourselves talking about random things, Simon showed off a few bandages from fresh injuries he got just this past week on a missionâŠ
And almost an hour after they arrived, you were all sprawled from the couch and over the coffee table, watching one of the original Scream movies, much to Ghostâs delight and your displeasure⊠Which soon switched and turned into your and Gazâs pleasure and Ghostâs dread.
âLook, itâs you.â You pointed at the TV for the fifth time in the row every time Ghostface was seen.
âI hate you.â Ghost groaned playfully. âKyle, whyâd you tell âem I wear a skull on the job?â He scoffed.
âYouâre the one wearing it and you wanna blame me?â Kyle quipped as he cocked his brows. He had his arm draped over your shoulders and he used his hand to nudge Ghost on the shoulder.
âItâs making me look bad, mate, itâs the principle of the thing!â Ghost retorted as he snaked his arm between your back and the back of the couch, nudging Gazâs exposed side with his own finger.
It was the first time that Gaz had ever heard Ghost call him, or anyone, mate. It wouldâve made him smile, if the bloke wasnât poking him.
âOi! Watch it!â Kyle complained as he squirmed a bit against you.
âYou ticklish, Garrick?â Simon quipped with a mischievous glance.
âWill you two stop it? Iâm trying to watch the movie!â You scolded them, nudging them both with your elbows, causing them both to squirm, though Ghostâs squirming was much more stiffening than wiggling. âChildishâŠâ You added.
âNot childish.â Simon retorted. âIâm 3-fucking-4.â He replied.
âYouâre what?â Kyle asked as his head turned sharply to look at Ghost. âI thought you were 40.â
âYou thought I was as old as Price is?â SImon asked as he turned to look at Kyle too.
âNo wonder you look young, I thought you looked good for your age because of the mask and not being in the sun all day.â Gaz explained.
âOh. My. God. Are you two having a moment right now?â You asked them, making them both turn to look at you with wide eyes. âYour little bromance is interrupting the movie.â You quipped with an impish smirk on your lips.
âOh, we have a âbromanceâ, is it? You wouldnât talk like that if you had my tongue down your throat like a few weeks ago.â Simon asked with a look in his eyes that said he did not appreciate the joke. But that just made you start giggling and biting your nail.
âWait, youâve kissed?â Kyle asked in surprise as he bounced up a bit and turned to look at you both.
âYeeeeesâŠ?â You replied with a sheepish reply.
âSo youâve seen what Ghost looks like?â Gaz added.
âNooooâŠ?â You added as you casted Simon a glance, which only made him chuckle behind his mask.
âI said Iâd let âem in due time.â He explained for you as he gave you a little squeeze.
âSo, youâve gotten drinks, eaten dinner, played videogames, had a movie night, slept together⊠All with the mask on?â Kyle asked, flabbergasted.
âWell, no. I took the mask off to sleep.â Simon replied.
âYOU TOOK THE MASK OFF TO SLEEP?!â You shrieked a bit, which only caused another grin to form on Simonâs face, his brown eyes crinkling smugly.
âYou were asleep. It wouldâve stank up if I slept with it on, Iâm a mouth breather.â Simon replied.
âEw, a mouth breather.â Gaz quipped, making you both laugh.
âI guess weâre just⊠not gonna watch the movie, huh?â You remarked as you glanced over at the TV where some blonde was screaming bloody murder.
âGuess not.â Gaz replied and shrugged a bit. After a beat of silence, he glanced over at the two of you again and narrowed his eyes. âHow was it?â
âHm?â You asked with a cocked brow.
âHe means the kiss.â Simon replied as he nudged you with his shoulder, his arm lightly squeezing at your waist.
You scrunched up your lips sheepishly and shrugged. âIt was goodâŠâ
Gaz and Ghost shared another look over your head, silently communicating between one another while stealing glances at you.
âJust good? And here I thought youâd liked it.â Simon remarked in mock offense.
âRight? I was going to say that doesnât sound very convincing.â Kyle quipped.
âI-â You hesitated and sighed. âWill you two stop that? I know what youâre doing! Donât fucking bully me!â You scolded them and you immediately noticed the smirk on Kyleâs lips, which you knew Simon was mirroring.
âMaybe I owe you a repeat.â Simon quipped as he shot Kyle a look and then looked down at you.
âA repeat?â You asked in shock as you blinked lightly.Â
âAnd I definitely owe you one for comparison.â Kyle added.
âButâŠâ
âBut what? You talk that big game and act like a brat this whole time, trying to embarrass usâŠâ Simon trailed off. âI think itâs time we get payback.â He added.
âOnly if youâre okay with it.â Kyle interjected.
âOf course theyâre okay with it.â Simon added and glanced down at you.
Sheepishly and with very warm cheeks, you found yourself nodding, not quite knowing the mess that you were about to get yourself into.
But, then again, when are you going to have the opportunity to have two blokes wanting to kiss you at once? Mia and Leah would kill you if you didnât take the opportunity.
Simonâs warm, calloused and rough hand grabbed reached up to cover your eyes and after a second, the other clamped around your jaw the same way he had done weeks ago. You could hear Kyleâs breath hitch behind you, a sign that Simon had taken off his mask.
Then, Simonâs lips crashed into yours, his tongue already pushing its way inside. Once more, your tongue found the metal of his barbell piercing, the cold and hard texture drawing a whimper out of you as Simon dragged it over your own tongue.
You could feel Kyleâs warmth next to you, his arm slightly tightening his hold on you so you wouldnât escape Simonâs kiss. Your hands gently grabbed onto Simonâs forearms, fingers digging in as the kiss left you light-headed.
After a moment, Simon pulled back, fixed his mask back into place, and uncovered your eyes. âSo?â He teased when your eyes adjusted to the darkened room, illuminated only by the blue light of the TV playing the movie.
âHm.â Was all you could reply with, a stupid little sound that didnât at all convey how good the kiss felt. But it made Simon laugh, open mouthed, belly laughter, his head falling back over the edge of the couch.
âCat got your tongue? Oh, wait, no, itâs me.â Simon bragged and you could swear he had a massive shit-eating grin on his stupidly kissable lips.
âLet me check.â Kyle replied and his own hand snaked to grab you around the neck. Before you had time to register it, your head was being dipped back and his lips were against yours.
Unlike Simon, Kyleâs lips were thick, warm, smooth⊠His tongue was a lot wetter, probably a consequence of Simonâs throat being permanentely dry from wearing the mask too much.
Now that he was so close, you could feel everything. The way his fingers gently rubbed at your pulse points on your neck, the scent of coconut oil that emanated from him, the light prickling of his goatee against your skin, when Simonâs was completely shaved cleanâŠ
Simonâs hand snaked down to your thigh and rubbed it lightly as you lost yourself in Kyleâs kiss, your hand grabbing and softly tugging onto his purple jumper.
You were the one that broke the kiss with a gasp for air, your eyes snapping open and finding Kyle looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he licked his lips. âSo?â He echoed Simonâs earlier question.
Looking away, you sunk back on the couch and scoffed. âI hate you both.â You grumbled, making them both laugh.
âDamn, I didnât think I kissed that badly.â Gaz quipped playfully.
âI sure as bloody hell donât.â Simon replied. âI think they just have poor taste.â
Crossing your arms, you glared at them both. âYeah? Well⊠If youâre both such great kissers, then why donât you prove it?â
The two men looked over at you with raised brows and blinking away their shock at the suggestion. Then, they glanced at each other and seemed to be communicating wordlessly again.
âIâm fine with it.â Gaz quipped, humourously.
âMakes no difference to me.â Ghost replied. âCâmere, Garrick.â
Before you even had time to say you were joking, Simon tugged up his mask with one hand, enough to reveal his jawline and mouth, while the other wrapped around the back of Kyleâs neck with more aggression than necessary.
It was the first time you got to see a snippet of Simonâs face and his jawline was just like you had expected. Harsh, sharp like diamonds, free from any type of hair, and riddled with rough scars and a Glasgow smile carved from the corners of his mouth.
Their mouths collided so harshly that Kyleâs eyes doubled in size before he let go and closed them. Your eyes widened as well as you watched them locked in a kiss that was more passionate than I think any of you expected it to be.
As they pulled away, Ghost pulled down his mask again and glanced over at you, while a very shocked Gaz stood perfectly still, eyes widened and mouth left hanging open⊠Before he shook himself awake from his trance. âYou have a piercing?!â
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#ikea writes đ#it's a match! fic#cod modern warfare#cod fanfic#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#text story#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader
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Hey Crow! I got a stupid, silly lil idea for a request. Fem!Reader X 141+Los Vaqueros please. Basically the reader is just out of the shower, with a fresh shave and lotion and goes up to her cod man and does the âfeel how smooth my legs areâ thing
Freshly Shaved Legs (Task Force 141 + Los Vaqueros x Fem!Reader)
masterlist
Iâm having a 400 follower celebration!!
-> You never got the proper opportunity to shave your legs on base, really. Itâs not a necessity and you rarely have down-time, so youâve forgotten about shaving. You manage to get your hands on one of the disposable razors your superiors supply for those who grow facial hair. You couldnât find any shaving cream, so you opted for your cheap, military-issued conditioner instead. After getting back from a grueling, 3 month long mission, the first thing you did was take that shaving razor and lock yourself in a private washroom, taking your sweet time to rid yourself of all of that leg hair. You apply a motion to sooth any irritated skin, too. The first you do after getting dressed into a pair of shorts a tan t-shirt is run up to them and prop your leg up with a grin and saying, âFeel my leg.â
Alejandro Vargas
Honestly, Alejandro is the type to shave your legs for you after such hard work, so he admires his work by rubbing your legs.
He hums in satisfaction as his fingers trace your skin, looking for any nicks. Heâs perfected shaving because of his beard and he grins when he finds no marks on you.
âI did well, yes?â Alejandro murmurs, looking to you for joking approval.
Alejandro laughs when you tell him the story of how you got a shaving razor, and while you do, heâs applying the after shave lotion to your legs.
Rodolfo âRudyâ Parra
Heâs definitely confused at first, looking at your leg and then back at your face multiple times.
âWhy?â
You simply say, âI shaved.â You grab his hand and put it on your leg. Rudyâs hesitant, but he rubs your skin and he makes a noise of surprise. âNo kidding..â
Rudy smiles softly when you seem so proud of yourself. âGood job, Hermosa.â
Rudy is too occupied with how smooth your skin is to question where you got the razor, since theyâre only really handed out to the people who grow beards.
John Price
He immediately raises an eyebrow and silently questions you, no doubt. His arms are crossed, a gruff âwhat?â leaving him.
You reiterate what you said a few seconds earlier and move your bare leg closer. Price sighs to himself as he realizes you will only leave him alone if he does as you say; so he does.
Price uncrosses his arms and his hand gently touches your soft skin at your shin and he slowly moves up, his eyebrows raising, making a sound as if heâs impressed but you can tell heâs joking. âSmooth.â He comments.
You laugh and swat at him as he states the obvious. He looks at you, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes crinkling from the amusement heâs feeling. âLove to know your first thought when coming home was to shave your legs, love. Not to sleep, or eat..â
You can tell heâs joking and he finds it very funny.
John âSoapâ MacTavish
He grins from your joy of this situation and immediately complies, feeling how soft your skin is. âSoft as a babyâs arse!â He chuckles, his thumb brushing against your shin.
âAnd you didnât nick yerself, not atâall!â Soap notices, glancing at you. He laughs as you take that in stride, crossing his arms.
Soap silently wonders if he could do the sameâshave his body hair, but then he gets rid of the idea because he enjoys his hair.
Heâs certainly surprised you managed to get your hands on a shaving razor, but at the same time he isnât because youâre you.
Kyle âGazâ Garrick
He laughs at first, especially with your presentation. Heâs sitting on a couch in Priceâs office, waiting for the Captain to come back with paperwork. You got your leg propped up on an armrest right next to where heâs sitting.
âFeel your leg?â He questions, glancing up at you while leaning his head on his fist. This isnât the weirdest thing youâve asked of him, so he shrugs.
Gaz feels your leg, feeling how soft and smooth your skin has gotten. âI see youâre putting that razor I got you to good use, huh?â
You snort and swat his shoulder, murmuring a thank you. He hums, removing his hand from your leg.
Simon âGhostâ Riley
âWhat?â
Several seconds of silence before he questions you. You repeat yourself and Ghost stares at you blankly. You bite your lip and youâre about to apologize and walk away when he removes his glove, and youâve never felt more glory in your life. He grumbles, âWhy not?â
Not defending your teammates, not defending whole ass countries, but the moment when Ghost removes his glove and touches your leg reluctantly to feel how smooth your skin is, is when you feel most prideful.
He doesnât say anything at first as you basically stand incredibly still like a deer in headlights. He removes his hand slides the glove back on, gruffing out, âGood job.â
#call of duty#call of duty mwii#mw2 2022#modern warfare ii#mw2022#cod#cod mw2#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost#soap x reader#john mactavish#john mactavish x reader#john price x reader#john price#captain price x reader#gaz x reader#kyle garrick#kyle garrick x reader
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ACTUALLY SCREAMING. The way you write their thoughts is so good?? Like, the hatred is palpable girlie.
Okay, favorite parts (literally the whole thing, but I'll point out specifics:
Gaz is such a smartass, and he can match her blow-by-blow so their banter is really satisfying but I love how underhanded his is (reminds me of that scene with Alex - "Everything we do is illegal," to Gaz's "Only the good stuff," and "You wanna translate that from bullshit to English?" Her snark is more in-your-face, for good reason, and their characters complement each other well.
. The whole bit with him driving alongside her while she was walking and then getting out of the car?? The conversation for the pickup??? Perfection. I love him so much. I'm still in awe that you're doing an entire series for him and that I get to engage in the magnificence that is his character. Every single part feels like Christmas and I can't stop the smile on my face when I see that you've posted.
Hector and Gaz being referred to as her ex; busted out laughing, that was beyond funny. I did not expect that. Then I reread it again after I finished because it was just that entertaining.
Her house?? So sad?? I actually expected it to go like she got rid of everyone, but it hit so much harder knowing that everyone quit. Can't even imagine what it was like for her to be left in that manner, and then she's just in this gigantic house all by herself. The descriptions were cool too, especially the part about how the exterior looked like since nobody was properly tending to it, and then the sheets over the furniture in Gaz's room. Super desolate and heartbreaking.
The juxtaposition between Gaz trying to extend an olive branch by making sandwiches and her thinking of all the ways to poison him was marvelous. He's like, oh hey maybe this will sort of, kind of get me on her good side, maybe soften her up, meanwhile she's plotting to murder him. Fantastic. What I love about this being enemies-to-lovers is the fact that she has has a legitimate reason to hate him, and it's not just brushed aside but you delve into how it's affected her since then. It's not 'oh, haha you just annoy me', which you have included in the beginning and I also find enjoyable to read, but it's straight up like 'at this point in time there's nothing you can say or do that will make me feel better about what happened'. Lots and lots of stuff revealed in this part. Their relationship is already very complex.
I like how the reader doesn't take any shit. Girlbossing it, honestly. Always a fan of the protection trope and how he's supposed to be watching over her, but I could literally seeing her being more than capable of taking care of him in her own way (which is not a prediction just a rambling about how I feel regarding her characterization). I think it's neat to see how strong she is. Of course, she wouldn't be able to fend off the threats, which is the whole reason why the protection detail is in place, but it's nice to learn how badass she is as a civvie and it really makes me root for her. She's really standing up for herself.
Okay your author's note?? You don't even need to explain yourself. I don't care if this was just set-up because I'm devouring all of it.
Cult of Vagabonds:Â Chapter Two
Main MasterList || CoV MasterList || Previous Chapter ||
Pairing: Kyle âGazâ Garrick x F!Reader
Synopsis: Cold was a day in hell before you admitted to this boy you were terrified.
Word Count: 8.4k
Warnings:Â Angst, self destructive tendencies, insinuations of PTSD, talks of death, thoughts of violence, banter but itâs more just straight up attacks
A/N:Â This should be the last chapter of set-up then Iâll be getting into the gritty stuff.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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àŒ*Â·Ë NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS â cod x reader
CRAVE YOU â call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!
series masterlist. read on ao3.
Life was hard. That was a fact.
Bills and groceries didnât pay for themselves. That was also a fact.
Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. Thatâs⊠not a fact.
And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that youâd splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.
No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;
Getting Murdered
Getting Attacked
Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?
âŠYeah. Something like that.
The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was⊠alarming.
You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some youâd seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.
This was the real deal. And, somehow, youâd managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.
With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was⊠fairly considered.
The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?
Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.
The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.
Youâre not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head â probably due to the restless sleep youâd had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.
Thereâs an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV thatâs turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.
The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prisonâs opening.
Itâs an unsettling place, that much youâve already gathered.
You havenât even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.
Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. Thereâs a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, thereâs no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.
âŠJesus christ.
âCan I help you?â The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.
You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that itâs an uneasy one. âYes! This is my first day, I think Iâm supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?â You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.
The woman snaps her gum.
You stand there.
She blows it again.
You continue to stand there.
Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. âLaswell⊠Iâll call her.â
Really, you couldnât be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much⊠professionalism?
âHi, Kate. Yes, itâs Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see youâŠâ Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. âWhatâs your nameâŠ?â
You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; youâd figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.
Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.
Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder.Â
âLaswell will be here anyâŠâ She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. âMoment.â
You give her a tight, painful smile. âThank you, Jenny.â
She doesnât respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly werenât complaining â any more conversation with her wouldâve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.
A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening.Â
Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.
Charlie: get milk otw home used it all
No âgood luckâ. No⊠ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.
When youâd told him about the offer, all heâd said was, âIt might make you worth something for a change.â Didnât even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldnât give less of a fuck.
âDoctor?â The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.
Itâs a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.
âKate Laswell?â You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.
âThe one and only,â she says, before gesturing to the steel door sheâd entered through. âNow, today weâll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and Iâll have you meet two of your patients.â
You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.
âWe really are so glad to welcome you to our team,â she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesnât turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. âYouâll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. Weâve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our⊠previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.â
That makes your brows furrow in confusion. âThatâs⊠odd,â you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.
As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in.Â
Itâs a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.
Itâs a lot, all at once. Youâd never even stepped foot into a prison â not before now.
âMost inmates are at the mess for breakfast,â Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. âThe ones youâll be dealing with, however⊠they usually eat by themselves.â
You donât decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.
âYou wonât be seeing much of the prison,â she admits. âThereâs heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.â
You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.
âToday, youâll be meeting two of our more⊠understanding ambers.â
You raise a brow. âAmbers? What does that mean?â
She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. âAmbers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and youâll be dealing with eight as per your contract.â
Your stomach falls. Youâd known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But⊠this was more than youâd imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.
Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. Itâs unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.
Fucking christ.
Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You canât eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feelingâs closer to admiration.
âHereâs the files on them both. Youâll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,â she hands you the clipboard sheâd been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesnât comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. âTheyâll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you neednât worry about that side of things.â
âThank you, maâam,â you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet.Â
She waves you off with a soft chuckle. âNone of that. Kateâs more than fine,â she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldnât be so bad â a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.
You donât realise youâve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. âWhile you have your first two sessions, Iâll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.â
With that, the door shuts behind you, and youâre alone in a small room.
It matches the rest of the hallways youâve seen â grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side.Â
âŠItâs depressing. Not at all like youâd prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadnât met your clients yet.
Ambers. High-risk.
With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.
Kyle âGazâ Garrick.Â
You skim over the height, weight, sex â immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.
Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.
Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read.Â
Of course, youâd prepared, been made aware that youâd be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely.Â
Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.
The motive is⊠youâre aware killing is bad. You hadnât spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasnât as simple as some made it out to be. Youâd done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.
If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?
It wouldnât take a genius to figure out your answer.
Youâre about to flip the page when thereâs a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.
Thereâs two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.
Heâs forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. Youâre grateful for the precautions, but thereâs a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.
âHalf an hour,â the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.
He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.
Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. âSorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. Iâm sure that Iâll be safe with his restraints.â
The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.
âŠHuh. Alright.
You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering youâre now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.
His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.
âItâs nice to meet you, Gaz,â you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. âIâll be your new psychiatric evaluator.â
His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline.Â
âIs it okay for me to call you Gaz?â You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. Youâd need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.
He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. âGaz, yeah.â
Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. Youâd be facing a lot of them in the coming days.
âDo you have any advice for this place?â You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. âIâm gonna be honest, youâre my first patient, and Iâve only met Laswell and⊠Jenny?â
His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. âJennyâs a character, ainât she?â
You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. âShe certainly is. Youâve met her?â
He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. âFew times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckinâ wall.â His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.
Small victories.
âWell,â he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. âDo ya know who else youâre assigned to?â
Youâd been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. Theyâd find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.
âItâs only you and a⊠John Price? Today. Iâm sure Iâll find out the other six over the next few days,â you say, appreciating that heâs starting conversations. Itâs more than youâd allowed yourself to hope for.
Gazâs eyes light up, and even if you hadnât been incessant in watching him, itâd be an obvious shift in emotions. âPrice?â
You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.
âHeâs the best. Manâs a legend,â he enthuses. âLove âim.â
Thereâs⊠a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, âHeâs an amber, correct? Laswell told me Iâd been assigned eight out of ten ambers⊠youâre one of them, right?â
Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.
â...Yeah. Only Ghost ând Valeria are aggressive, though. Weâre just⊠misunderstood,â he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.
âThank you,â you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe youâd covered more ground than youâd expected. âI think itâd been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.â
Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. âSounds âbout right. As long as you donât get Graves, youâll be alright. The others are⊠fuckinâ weird, but theyâre good men. Mostly.â
Thatâs a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process.Â
ââGood menâ. What do you think it takes to be a good man?â You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, itâs a thrilling, exhilarating task.
His eyes donât shift as he replies. âGood men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.â
Those words, theyâre â theyâre authentic, and conviction aches in their structure.Â
You swallow around a dry mouth.
âYou think youâre a good man?â You ask.
His smile would be seen as warm to any who werenât aware of his acts, but to you â itâs chilling. Haunting in a way youâve never experienced.
It remains as he answers.
âI think that Iâm a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.â
a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah
taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]
#đ€ : crave you#âšïž : love's writing#cod mw2#call of duty#mw2#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#soap cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#john price#kyle gaz garrick#task force 141#141#ghost x soap x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#soap x you#soap x reader#price x reader#price x you#gaz x reader#gaz x you#gaz cod#alejandro x reader#rudy x reader#rodolfo x reader#konig x reader#keegan russ x reader
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Pretty Boy
Kyletober Day 1: Mirror Sex
Summary: You canât help but smile back, your stomach fluttering as you stare at him in the mirror, at that pretty face. Your pretty boy.
Pairing: Kyle x Fem!reader
Word Count: 810 words
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, mirror sex, pegging, handjob, language, very light Dom/sub dynamics
A/N: And we start off Kyletober with a bang (pun intended). I didn't intend for this to be a pegging fic but I can't help myself, the dommy mommy came out. Anyway, enjoy yourselves and remember, we are here to have fun and praise our Lord and savior Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
MASTERLIST
âFuck...âÂ
Itâs long and drawn out and so needy sounding.Â
It makes your pussy clench.Â
Your hands smooth over soft skin, fingers curling into the dip of his hips. His back arches, his muscles flexing and contracting beautifully in front of you. Itâs like heâs been chiseled out of marble, each dip and curve perfectly sculpted.Â
The muscles of his arms flex as he pushes against the wall, his head tilting back. He looks wrecked already. Lips parted, eyes squeezed closed, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face. You want to lick it, but you have more important matters at hand.Â
His head drops down with a gasp, drooping between his arms. You tsk, bringing your hand down against one pert ass cheek. The sound of skin cracking against skin is loud over the sound of his labored breaths and quiet groans.
âFuck,â he breathes, his head shooting back up.Â
âEyes on me, pretty boy.â You say, meeting that honeyed gaze in the mirror.Â
His lips part again as he keeps eye contact with you through the mirror. Your hands move to his hips again, fingers sinking into his skin as you begin to rock your hips. Soft, breathy moans leave his lips as you work the dildo into his ass completely. You can feel the way he clenches around it from the resistance you get pulling back.Â
âGive it to me,â He nearly whines as you pull back, breathing heavily as he stares at you in the mirror.Â
âYou want it?â You ask, sinking back into him slowly.Â
He nods, already panting and youâve barely fucked him. âPlease, please,âÂ
You grip his hips tighter, drawing your hips back until just the tip is inside of him. âOkay. You asked for it.âÂ
You push your hips forward as hard as you can, sliding the dildo back in until your hips are pressed against his ass. His arms buckle where they hold him up against the wall, his face nearly smashing against the mirror. You pull his hips back, trying to guide him away from the mirror so he doesnât get hurt. His muscles flex again as he fights to hold himself up while you begin to thrust into his ass.Â
Your gaze is still on his face in the mirror, those pretty features contorted in pleasure. Even being fucked heâs still pretty, your pretty boy. Your perfect man. Even the way he moans is pretty, all needy and breathy.Â
âOh, fuck!â He gasps as you grind your hips against his ass, pushing the dildo as deep as you can. âFuckin, feels so good babe.âÂ
âYeah?â You smirk, reaching down to squeeze his balls. âYou like that?âÂ
His knees start to shake as you massage his balls, your thrusts getting shallower as you angle the dildo down. âYes!â He almost yelps, his eyes rolling back. âRight there. Fuck-donât stop!âÂ
You grip his hips for leverage as you thrust your hips down, pushing the dildo right against that spot over and over. Heâs close already, you can see the way heâs tensing, legs locking. His eyes are squeezed closed but you donât care, the mirror is more for you than him anyway. You want to watch his face, and you want to watch yourself fuck him.Â
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â The word leaves his lips like a mantra as his head tilts back, his ass pressing back against you as he trembles.Â
You fold your body over his, gripping his shoulders as you snap your hips against his. Youâre getting tired, your muscles starting to ache from the exertion. Your stamina is nowhere near his, but thankfully he never lasts very long in this position.Â
You wrap your arms around his middle, one hand sliding down to grip his cock. His hips buck against your hand as you begin to pump his length, his moans getting deeper and deeper as he throbs in your hand. Heâs close, so very close. You snap your hips against his ass as you work his cock with your hand, both moving in sync.Â
He lets out a long groan, his body jerking against yours as he cums, leaking his release all over your hand. Heâs still breathing heavily, your hand slowing on his cock until he starts to go soft in your hand. You press a soft kiss against his back, as you relax against him, your dildo still seated in his ass. He lifts his head, meeting your gaze in the mirror.
âFuck me,â He breathes, shaking out his arms one at a time.Â
âI think I just did.â You grin, pressing another soft kiss to his skin.Â
You canât help but smile back, your stomach fluttering as you stare at him in the mirror, at that pretty face. Your pretty boy.
âYeah,â He chuckles, giving you a dazzling smile. âYou did.âÂ
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#kyletober#Kyle Garrick x reader#gaz x reader#Kyle gaz Garrick x reader#kinktober 2024#call of duty#call of duty fic
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a surprise house guest
â â â . â ââ â â . â ââ â â . â ââ â â . â ââ â â . â ââ
summary: The last thing Gaz expected to see in your shared flat was a baby in your arms and a mess in the kitchen, what have you gotten yourself into?
pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!roommate!reader
warnings: swearing
a/n: hehe gaz roommate babysitting fluff! sidenote i've been babysitting and ngl kids are lil cuties like ahh
â â â . â ââ â â . â ââ â â . â ââ â â . â ââ â â . â ââ
Gaz's relaxed and warm morning in his mountain of blankets was soon interrupted by the loud clanging around in your shared kitchen. He groaned as he tousled his messy hair and tried to look for his phone. "Jesus, 7 am, really Y/N?" he muttered as the bright screen of his phone lit up the room. He wondered what trouble you had gotten into while he was away.
You had been his roommate for about a year now but it felt even shorter due to him consistently being called away on duty and your busy work schedule. You were friendly, sure, and on occasion a bit flirtatious but at the end of the day, you were just another facet of his life. You were just someone to collect the mail, take care of the dust, and occasionally make sure his room wasn't crawling with bugs. You had somehow managed to accomplish such while doing it so attractively. Wait what was he saying, you were his roommate after all. Just a young professional needing a place and not caring about his infrequent stays. But on the other hand, you were his age and he always had suspected you might fancy him when you joked about sharing a one-bedroom apartment for "the benefits." His thoughts were interrupted by a loud "FUCK" and crashing emanating from the hallway. He hurriedly ripped off the sheets and ran down the hall to assess what was going on.
The last thing he expected was to see you, baby bottle in hand, and a baby on your hip. "Jesus!" you jumped as he emerged into the kitchen, "when the hell did you get home?" He relaxed, seeing that the kitchen wasn't on fire and you weren't fighting some early morning burglar. "Last night," he replied before returning to looking at the baby. He looked at it as if it was an alien, "was I really gone that long?" he asked almost afraid to hear the response. It took you a minute to process his question but you quickly covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. "Oh my god, no, no, he isn't mine," you said through laughs that made your sides hurt. "my kid sister dropped him off this morning. I agreed to help out and look after him for the day." With that, the baby cooed and tried to reach to hold your hand as you relented and looked back at Gaz. "I would have definitely cleared this with you, but I didn't expect you back so early," you sighed as you tried to calm the small bundle trying to put your fingers in his mouth. You took a brief look around the kitchen and noticed how much of a mess you had caused trying to prepare some milk, "I promise I'll clean up once I've set him down."
"No worries," he replied as he made his way into the kitchen to make some coffee, "I was gonna say you look a little too good to have just given birth." You felt your face flush and before you could reply or even give him an introduction to your nephew, the bottle of formula was knocked out of your hands. "Oh for the love of God," you swore as you realized your tank top and pajama shorts were now stained with milk. Gaz couldn't help but laugh as he looked at you in such a state, it was clear you hadn't had time to get ready for the day as he took a good look at you. "Not funny, little man," you chided the baby before you looked at Gaz with a smirk. Before he could protest, you guided the baby into his arms and ran to your bedroom to get changed.
"Bloody hell, Y/N," he yelled after you, "what am I supposed to do?" "It's a baby, Kyle, I think you can handle it," you said through your partially opened door. He heard a few more clangs as you struggled to find something not soaked in milk. He looked back down to the bundle in his arms, "What's your name, little one?" He heard you laugh as you continued to rummage around. "Kyle for fucksake he's an infant, he can't talk," you shouted, "his name is Ben if you were wondering." Ben cooed at the sound of your voice and squirmed in Gaz's arms. "It's okay buddy, she'll be back in a moment," he tried to reassure him as he rocked his arms back and forth. The baby grew more impatient and began to let out a song of high-pitched cries. You emerged from the room, now in a different pair of shorts and a shirt. Without a second look, you rushed into the kitchen and began to clean up. "Take him to the living room," you said, exasperated, as Ben continued to wail. "You owe me one," Gaz called out and you could hear him trying to appease the now crying baby. You shook your head before going about tackling the mess in the kitchen. Once you finally finished and dried your hands on the hand towel, it was quiet except for some babbles from Ben.
"What do we have here?" you said as you walked up to the pair settled on the couch. Both turned to you, smiling like a pair of twins. You had to say Gaz looked rather handsome as the light streamed in from the window in your flat. An unshaven 5 o'clock shadow complimented his face nicely. "I got it handled," he said cockily as you sat on the couch next to him. "Sure you do," you replied and mocked his tone, your legs brushing against his as sat. You soon realized that the reason Ben had stopped crying was that he was now occupied by a small sealed bag of crisps. He was shaking it around proudly and slobbering all over the plastic. You turned your head to look at Gaz with a deadpan expression. "What?" he said defensively, "he likes it!" You let out a laugh as you crumbled back onto the couch and watched as Gaz held the baby on his lap. You couldn't deny, that once he got Ben to stop crying, he was a natural at this. You secretly envied the future, Mrs. Garrick. However, with Gaz's protective arm around the baby and you smiling right next to him, you looked like the perfect couple with a newborn. The moment quickly passed as you looked down at your hand. "Oh I have his bottle," you said and motioned for Gaz to pass you the baby. "Come here, love," you cooed and slowly rocked him in your arms. You set your feet on top of Gaz's lap and sang a soft little lullaby to calm the infant.
After watching the baby drink the formula at record speed, he was finally asleep in your arms. "Finally," you groaned as you watched his little eyelids flutter. You leaned back in the crook of the couch, making sure he was fast asleep before you looked back at Gaz. He had a sense of wonder and awe in his eyes as he looked up at you. You slowly moved Ben into the small lounger cushion your sister had brought and stretched out of exhaustion. "Thanks again," you whispered as you motioned for Gaz to follow you back to the kitchen, "I really appreciate it." He nodded in response and leaned against the counter, closing his eyes in a moment of peace. You stood next to him and placed your head against his arm. You could feel him slightly react to your action but soon relax as he looked down at you. To both of you, it felt oddly comfortable to be like this. "Welcome home, by the way," you said, finally acknowledging his return "Sorry about this whole mess." He smiled as you met eyes and then let out a low chuckle. "It's alright, I got caught up in watching you play Mummy today," he joked, slightly tussling your hair with his free hand. You blushed briefly at the compliment but you soon found yourself wrestling his arm to stop. You ended up placing it securely around your shoulders and held it in place to prevent any further assault.
"I'm serious," Gaz defended as he relaxed his confined arm, "you look like a natural with him. You looked up at him and decided to test the waters, just a tiny bit. "Oh really now?" you challenged, "something about this situation gives you baby fever?" Now Gaz was the one with a subtle blush on his cheeks as you smirked at his reaction. "Let's go on a date then, love, and find out," he blurted, seemingly without any hesitation. You tensed a bit as you processed what he was saying. "You asking me out now, Garrick?" you questioned, turning your body to look at him. "Maybe I am," he whispered, moving a piece of hair out of your face and moving his hand to cup your face. As time moved slowly, you stood on your tippy toes and moved closer to his lips. Just as the space was about to close, a shrieking cry filled the apartment. "I think he wants Daddy," you teased as you tried to hide your disappointment, "we'll talk about this after dinner?" As Kyle huffed away, you couldn't help but secretly thank your sister for the emergency nanny service.
#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#cod x reader#call of duty modern warfare#cod mwii#modern warfare 2#call of duty#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#mw2 imagine#madebyizzie#izzie is writing
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Ghost x witty! Reader
All for a pair of tits.
Pt 2
.
"Glare at my dress all you want, lieutenant. You won't scare it away."
You said putting your long earrings sneaking a look at Ghost's reflection.
He was sitting on the bed behind you looking at the long red dress you had just put on for the undercover mission. He wouldn't say it but you knew it pissed him to the core that you had to go as Kyle's date and not his, but honestly that was his fault. When Price explained the mission and the tasks you were all assigned to accomplish, Ghost threw an unexpected tantrum about how Gaz wasn't fit to go undercover, because as he explained: "Lad's better at killin' than acting." You were sure he was projecting a little. So the captain asked him if he'd rather go with you instead obviously without the mask, Ghost quickly denied. Then he was assigned watch duty while drowning in jealousy, and you bathed in the satisfaction of letting your lieutenant watch your body like a hawk as you prettied yourself up for another man while waiting in the hotel you were all supposed to meet before heading to the party.
Simon looks up at you from his seated position, his rough hands fisting the sheets. He was wearing his stupid Halloween mask so it was hard to know the expression he was hiding.
"I'm just lookin'. That a problem?"
"If you want it off of me you'll have to find another tactic. Or do you rather have Garrick do the unwrapping?" You grinned turning around to face him properly, your lipgloss shining under the dim light of the lamp near the vanity made his chocolate eyes melt at the sight. Ghost licked his lips under his mask, a mere reflection of what he had in mind to do to you if it wasn't for-
"That's unprofessional, and i'm your lieutenant. I told ya too many fucking times. But, hey, dream all y' like..."
"I am sooo thankful that you remind me, dear lieutenant..." You said sarcastically with a dramatic gesture lifting your hand to your head as if you were about to faint and he had saved you with his idiotic words. "But could you please repeat that without a..."
Your finger points to his lower side, he squints confused before looking at where you were pointing, his cargo pants held a gigantic tent he was quick to cover with a pillow before he leans forwards petrified in embarrassment. You laughed amused and impressed at the sight, but for Ghost you were just mocking him cruelly. You were just a horny vixen who took great pleasure on toying around with his carnal desires, often seducing him on purpose just to get a reaction such as this one. He was red in embarrassment and anger, and it only increased when your pretty laugh slowly died and you, for once, decided to stay in silence.
Ghost stood up abruptly. "I see yer ready. I'll warn Price to hurry the fuck up..." But the following words died on his mouth.
You were standing with a soft smile, the beautiful red dress you were wearing hanged limply by your hips as your arms hid your breasts.
"I forgot I didn't zip it and it just..." You shrugged playing clueless "it fell."
Ghost was petrified in place, his wide eyes ate up every detail he could get of your naked chest even though your pretty breasts were hidden. His hard-on worsened.
"Y'need a hand...?" He mustered.
"Among other things..."
Your lieutenant dropped the pillow to the floor missing the bed, he walked up to you in slow, measured steps giving you time to stop this game you just started like you always did, but to his surprise. You did not. You looked up at him, pupils dilated giving him full permission to turn you around with his big rough hands, he moved your hair to your front with his index finger. The moment you were facing the mirror, Ghost was about to lift the sleeves of your dress until your arms unraveled from your chest, his eyes, trained to pick any movement, caught the moment your tits bounced in place by the mirror. His breathing was heavy, slightly uneven and so was yours.
His hands dropped the piece of clothing in other to caress the skin of your back until he reached your ribcage right under your breasts. Again, he waited for you to move away, to stop this game YOU started, but instead you purred tilting your head to the side feeling his burning mask lean against the delicate skin of your neck, he inhaled your perfume, thumbs poking the underside of your tits until your small hands went to lift his to properly hold them, Ghost was quick to firmly massage the surface, your pebbled nipples held such a beautiful shade of color that contrasted with his black skeleton gloves, he wanted to suck them, he wanted to do things he wasn't supposed to.
In that moment Simon realized that the times he spent explaining you how inappropriate it was to flirt with colleagues in this line of work (specially superiors), he truly wasn't trying to warn you, he was trying to convince himself this wouldn't happen because it wasn't well seen. But... But who the fuck cares, really?
"Simon..." You sighed his name and his cock twitched on his pants. "Take these off... It's bad manners to touch a lady this way wearing gloves..."
"You a lady?" He humored.
"Have you seen a gentleman with these tits?"
His chest rumbled with a chuckle, hips making a slow involuntary thrust against your clothed ass seeking friction, you obliged offering your bum for him to thrust on, he hissed in pleasure.
"You'd be surprised..."
You gasped and chuckled "Simon Riley!..."
He quickly turned you around then, big hands roughly grabbed your ass pressing your naked chest against his with a dark but mischievous glint on his eyes reflecting yours. "Wanna compare sizes?"
"Are you for real right now, lieutenant?"
You asked with all the humour in you. But Ghost did not waver taking his shirt off with one swift tug upwards revealing his muscular torso to you, a litter of scars made it the more eye-catching. You stood there looking up at him in awe before your hand pushed him to the bed, he allowed you this, huffing when he dropped to the soft surface, the cold sheets made his skin erupt in goosebumps. His hard, clothed cock created a tent that pressed against his abs when he incorporated a little seating with his arms behind him supporting himself.
"I can't believe I've never seen your face and the first thing you wanna show me is the size of your tits."
"Pectorals." He corrected.
"Those are BOOBS, call them however you like but oh my god..."
You weren't one to complain, positioning yourself in between his legs to climb to the mountain of muscles that composed his body. He smiled under his mask looking at you fondly and helping you wrap your legs around his waist sitting yourself right on his leaking boner. He was enjoying this. You could see it, feel it poking at your panties...
You kiss his masked jaw, one arm around his shoulder and the other hand massages his chest, feeling his gigantic pectorals and the very small pink nipples that adorned both tips. Ghost threw his head back with a sigh angling his head so that you'd keep your soft ministrations with your lips. Kiss, lick, bite, repeat. The way your fingers worked magic on his chest and how your mouth mauled on his skin made your lieutenant grow desperate for more, he still couldn't believe this was happening. His heaving chest shivered in delight, his mouth was half open letting out soft sounds you never thought you'd hear from your lieutenant until he snapped, he flips you under him, the fire within your bodies roaring in waves of desire, a desire denied no longer.
Ghost hovered over you, eyes black with how dilated his pupils were, his hips thrust against yours, dry humping your cunt like a dog in heat. Your lips part with a moan, delicate hands lift to his face waiting for his permission, he gives you a short nod to lift his mask when an abrupt knock on the door startles you.
Ghost sighs, one of his hands take your wrist as the other supports his weight as not to crush you.
"I'M NOT 'ERE!" You yell annoyed.
"Come on (Y/n)!" Gaz's voice sounds from outside "Price is gettin' pissed... And we can't find Ghost or Soap! The event is about to start, I'm already suited up-"
"Alright, alright, Garrick-...Just gimme a moment..."
You crawl from under Ghost, stand up, ready your dress leaving the back unzipped and trot to the small hall, Ghost was watching you as you did this until he saw you were about to open the fucking door. It was comical the way your lieutenant jumped from the bed hurrying to put his shirt on and adjust his boner from under his pants so he wouldn't poke Gaz's eye out when the poor Brit was greeted by the sight of your prettied self standing all proud and smiley and your lieutenant nervously fidgeting on the spot in front the bed.
Gaz stares in silence.
"Zip my dress Gaz! What the hell are you doing gawking like a school boy? There's a party we gotta attend to."
He shakes his head incredulous, gets behind you ignoring the heated stare Ghost was shooting him from the other side of the room and swiftly zips your dress.
"See? Now I'm ready and I had found Ghost, I solved you two problems."
"Three-..." An all too familiar voice came behind you. The bathroom door opens, Soap was staring just as incredulous with a look that resembled the one hundred yards stare.
Ghost barks "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE!?"
Soap replies unfeeling, with no emotion, like a robot or a traumatized husk of a man "This was my room..."
You flinch leaving the place practically throwing yourself out the door with a "JESUS CHRIST -!"
Gaz flinches then at the same time following behind with a squint. "FUCKING-....Close the god-damned door Johnny!" Ghost snarled this time.
"I have a sensitive stomach olrigh'!? And y'all were doing nasty things and I didn't know what to do and a' was locked with ma' shit for half an hour... I FLUSHED OKAY!?" Soap had the gal to play offended. "If it wasn't for Gaz I would have died gassed." He jested, and the tall brit had enough, smacking the wall and storming out frustrated as hell.
Just when he was reaching the jackpot, the jungle he has for a team had to ruin everything.
At least he saw your tits... That will compensate for having to see you dance around with Gaz pretending you two are married.
#simon riley#ghost x reader#call of duty modern warfare#witty reader#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x you
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I loved the recent "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" imagine....what about...
Calling your boyfriend husband on ACCIDENT? đđ€
By the time that I'm actually getting around to this, "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" is now no longer recent. Oops! Sorry! (If you want to read that imagine you can find it here.) But is it really an accident? I feel like it could honestly be both, but the accident factor would make the whole thing so much cuter!
Presented in four double drabbles.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, brief alcohol, suggestive themes, established relationship
Word Count: 800
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
âCan you help me, John?â
âYeah, love. Give me a minute.â
The counter top is covered in groceries. Itâs the first big day in the new apartment with John. The two of you have been dating for a few years now, but this is the first time youâve properly lived together.
John comes around the corner in nothing but a pair of shorts. Heâs a bit sweaty from building furniture.
âThereâs ice cream. Donât want it to melt.â
âCourse.â He gives you a quick kiss before digging through the bags, removing items as he goes.
The two of you work seamlessly, putting away all the groceries quickly.
âGive me a kiss.â
John grins, and goes in for a tooth-achingly sweet one.
âThanks, hubby.â
The word is out without thought. You donât even realize youâve said it until John blinks, a bit startled.
âHubby?â
You donât know what to say. Youâre staring at him, a bit flustered.
But John smiles. He leans in, stealing another kiss. âYou want to marry me?â
âDo you want to marry me?â you counter.
âYou proposing?â teases John.
âStop answering my question with a question.â
John chuckles and pulls you close. âWifey sounds good on you.â
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
âThe husband will love this!â
Husband slips out naturally, as if you and Kyle have always been together. The two of you have been dating for years, but there is no marriage. There isnât even an engagement. But Kyle isnât around to hear the slip upâat least, you donât think so.
The store assistant smiles. âHappy to help,â she says brightly before walking away.
You exhale slowly, and turn around, nearly smacking into Kyle.
âHoly shit,â you say, placing your hand on your chest. âYou startled me.â
Kyle has a smirk on his face with arms crossed over his chest. âDid I hear you correctly?â
âThat I swore?â you ask, perplexed.
âNo,â he laughs. âYou called me your husband.â
Oh shit.
âYou heard that?â
Kyle leans in as if heâs about to tell you a secret. âI did.â
âAnd?â you prompt, trying to brush this off as nothing.
Kyle shrugs. âThink I like it.â
You blink. âYou like it.â
Kyle glances around but there isnât anyone nearby. He takes a step into your space, lowering his head as if to kiss you. âSay it again.â
You lick your lips. âHusband.â
âAgain.â
âHusband.â
Kyle closes the distance, stealing a kiss.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Across the pub, your boyfriend is ordering drinks at the bar.
The two of you are enjoying a free weekend. They are few since Simon is always workingâalways off on some mission.
What isnât all that nice is the woman talking to Simon at the bar. Heâs politely ignoring her, but she clearly cannot take a hint. Sheâs smiling at Simon like she wants to climb him. Plus, youâre feeling bold. You have a few drinks in you at this point. The liquor is hot. It is poison.
And youâre ready to strike. Show some fangs.
You stride toward the bar, shoving yourself between the woman and Simon. Wrapping your arms around Simonâs waist, you snuggle up to him.
âHello, husband,â you croon.
Simonâs mouth quirks with amusement as the woman behind you snorts and makes a flippant remark.
Going up on your toes, you reach for a kiss, and Simon obliges. It is slow. Wet. Way too intimate for such a public setting. You kiss him like youâre starved.
When the two of you part, the woman is gone.
Simonâs hand dives, grabbing your ass in a possessive hold. âHusband?â
âIt slipped.â
âSure it did, love,â laughs Simon.
John "Soap" MacTavish
âThis is John. My husband.â
Husband.
The word slips out and youâre not able to draw it back. You canât correct yourself. Not in front of your peers. Youâve fumbled this completely.
Johnnyâs eyebrows rise toward his hairline, his gaze pointed as he glances at you. But he doesnât correct you either, and you decide to roll with it.
âThatâs lovely,â replies your boss. âHow long have you two been married?â
This is a new job. Itâs the first company party youâre attending, and bringing a plus one is encouraged.
But youâre not able to answer. Johnny steps up and takes the lead.
âNewly,â he says, grinning like itâs true.
Your boss laughs. âThat accent! My goodness. Scottish?â
âAye. Born and bred.â
âHow lovely.â
Johnny inclines his head. His hand delicately grabs your arm, pulling you in. âPleasure meeting you.â
The two of you move on, but Johnny takes a turn, drawing you to the side, his head lowered.
âHusband?â he asks with a cheeky grin.
âIt slipped out,â you mutter.
âYour coworkers are gonna think youâre a married woman.â
âI know.â
âShould make it official,â shrugs Johnny.
âWhat?â
He lightly bumps your shoulder with his own. âYou heard me.â
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#task force 141#task force 141 imagine#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 x female reader#task force 141 x you#task force 141 fanfiction#cw: suggestive#cw: alcohol#task force 141 fic#task force 141 fanfic#task force 141 fluff#simon riley#simon riley cod#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#captain john price x you#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#john price x you#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick imagine#soap mactavish#kyle garrick cod#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish imagine#soap mactavish fanfic#price cod#simon riley imagine#john price cod
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kyle seducing the cold detached woman who's levels above his station đ
yeah so i wrote way too much
want
pairing: kyle garrick x fem!reader cw: third person pov, hints to childhood trauma, therapy is mentioned, smut
it doesnât help that he has a big fat crush on her. and she knows this, but couldnât give two fucks.
kyle has never had to work this hard to get someone into his bed. heâd barely turn on the charm and would still have them dropping their panties. but this woman in particular, she made him realize it wasnât going to be easy and heâd have to work for it.
kyle starts giving her flowers with cute little notes attached and she just chucks them into the trash because, âi donât like roses, garrick. stop sending me flowers.â
kyle does not listen to her at all though. every bouquet he buys gets thrown away, much to his dismay. sheâll never tell him this, but one day she ended up giving a vase of flowers to one of her girlfriends because they were far too pretty to be in someoneâs trash bin. eventually, kyle stops sending flowers and steps his game up.
he starts leaving chocolate on her desk, her favorite brands at that. itâs the fancy and expensive kind too.
at first, the chocolate just sits on her desk untouched. she would rather eat a jean jacket than to admit she finds it kind of cute that kyle refuses to give up. her icy exterior begins to dissolve a little when he starts popping up with snacks, jumbo crossword puzzles, and books for her to read.
âiâm still not entertaining whatever you think is going to happen between us, garrick. keep your delusions to yourself,â she says flatly, but thanks him and accepts his gifts anyway.
kyle just laughs and says, âweâll see.â
his response bothers her for the rest of the day and she canât figure out why.
her heart softens even more when her birthday arrives and sheâs stuck in her office doing paperwork. sheâs absolutely miserable about it, until kyle knocks on her door, her words getting stuck in her throat when she sees the cake and balloons he has for her.
âwhy would you do all of this!?â she asks hotly, once sheâs regained her composure. she doesnât even know why sheâs so upset with him in the first place. heâs just being nice.
âbecause you deserve it, and you shouldnât have to spend your birthday alone.â
she wants to rage at him some more. she wants to throw him out and tell him to never come back because somehow heâs managed to worm his way into her heart. she wants to kick him in his shin for making her fall for him. but because she canât bring herself to do any of that, she lets him stay to sing happy birthday to her.
and if kyleâs visits become more frequent after that, she canât find it in herself to complain. his presence makes her happy.
kyle can be a very persistent man when he needs to be, but he chooses to believe sheâll change her mind about him eventually. sheâs been opening up to him more, and he considers that progress.
he remembers the first time he met her. she was a pretty thing with a no nonsense attitude. he knew he was down bad for this woman when heâd come to her defense whenever he heard people calling her a bitch around base.
and today was no different. she was well aware of the names people called her, but she really didnât give a shit. âit doesnât hurt me,â she says to kyle, whoâs currently holding a recruit by the collar of his shirt.
heâd been within earshot of the little bastard addressing his soon to be sweetheart by several unpleasant names that made his blood boil.
kyle is more than pissed off, especially after she orders him to let the young recruit go. âyou hear the names they call you, the things they say. and yet you do fuck all about it,â he snaps before sighing. heâs not mad at her though. heâs just a little frustrated because she wonât so anything about it. he refuses to believe that nothing bothers her.
she stares at kyle in shock. heâs never spoken to her like this before, and she doesnât like it one bit. so she tells him to get out.
but unfortunately for her, kyle doesnât budge. ânah,â he says, before taking a seat on the chair in front of her desk. âi think iâll sit here a little longer. you can finish your work, i wonât bother you.â
she just huffs at him, then picks her pen up and resumes her work.
when sheâs done, kyle is still there. he has his earbuds in and heâs laughing quietly at something on his phone. she just knows heâs on tiktok. probably watching some video about a cat. when she finds herself staring too hard and enjoying his laughter just a bit too much, she nudges him under the desk with her foot.
kyle pulls his earbuds out and sits up straight. âyou finished, love?â
love?
itâs the first time heâs called her that, and it wrecks her a little bit. i donât deserve him, she thinks to herself.
she just nods silently in response to his question, not trusting herself to speak and only doing so when kyle offers to walk her to her quarters. if heâs surprised when she says yes, he doesnât show it. he just ushers her out of the office and down the hallway.
when they arrive at her door, she thanks him. kyle just waves her off and says, âanything for you, sweetheart.â
âstop calling me that,â she huffs. âand stop doing whatever this is.â
she watches as kyleâs brows furrow in confusion. âwhat is it that you think iâm doing?â
âif you wanted to get into my pants, you could have just asked.â she actually laughs when kyle stares at her in surprise. âand donât act so shocked, garrick. iâve known what you wanted since day one.â
âdo you?â kyle asks as he steps into her space, watching in amusement as she fumbles to come up with an answer. he knew she would have told him to fuck off when they first met. âif you think sex is all i want, then youâre wrong. i want you.â
sheâll lie about it for the rest of her life if anyone ever asks her how she responded to kyleâs statement. instead of tearing him apart with her words, she gets a little teary eyed, much to her embarrassment.
âyou shouldnât want me,â she whimpers. âi havenât been very nice to you.â
kyle just shrugs and lets her know that he likes a challenge every now and then. he doesnât let her respond. he bids her goodnight with a kiss on her forehead, then gently shoves her into her room.
kyle walks her to her room again the next evening, and this time, he bullies her into inviting him in. she almost had a fit when he climbed into her bed and demanded she cuddle with him. at first, the word no was at the tip of her tongue, but then the intrusive thoughts won that round.
sheâd struggled with how intimate it was to have kyleâs arms around her, not wanting him to touch her because she knew it would shatter the walls sheâd carefully built over the years. he took one look at her and told her to stop fighting her feelings. sheâd almost snapped at him, until she saw the look in his eyes. sheâd hurt him and herself if she told him no. so she surrendered herself to him completely.
âitâs just for tonight, you can go back to hating me tomorrow.â
her heart breaks when kyle says it so casually, as if heâs trying not to make it a big thing, when it absolutely is.
sheâs never hated kyle a day in her life. she just doesnât understand why he wants to be with someone as cold as her? why would he want to be with a woman who was so damn traumatized, she thought everyone who approached her had some ulterior motive. having an unpleasant childhood and learning not to trust anyone would do that to a person.
during a session, she spoke to her therapist about kyle. she even told the other woman about the gifts he gave her. he wonât leave me alone, she had complained.
have you asked him to leave you be?
well, no. butâ
think about why that is.
sheâd almost quit therapy that day. she didnât want to think about kyle and the way he made her feel.
after the life sheâd lived, she promised to never let anyone get close enough to see how vulnerable she could be. she was convinced they would just take advantage. so she hardened her heart and became more frigid as the years went by. sometimes when she looked in the mirror, she didnât see an ounce of her past self.
âyouâre tense.â
her body gives a little surprised jolt at the sound of kyleâs voice. âiâm sorry,â she mumbles, while trying to relax in his arms.
âwhatâs on your mind?â kyle asks, before pressing a kiss to her forehead and stroking a hand down her back.
she shrugs and tells him not to worry about it, even though she knows itâs already too late for that.
âdonât do that. thereâs something bothering you, sweetheart.â
she sighs softly, before lifting her head off his chest. âyouâre right, but i donât want to talk about it right now. just hold me please.â
and itâs truly a blur after that, not knowing how she ended up on her back with kyleâs fingers intertwined with hers and his cock buried deep in her pussy. heâs already syphoned one orgasm out of her with his tongue, and now he wants to have her creaming around his cock this time.
sheâs not sure what sheâs gotten herself into. because when kyle gives her the filthiest grind against her pussy, his leaking cock pressing up against her g-spot, her eyes roll so far back into her head, sheâs surprised they donât get stuck. a pleasure filled sob spills from her lips when kyle does it again and again until sheâs clawing at his back and wailing so loud, he has to quickly smother her cries with his mouth.
he knows sheâll probably never live it down if someone walks by the room and hears how loud she can be when sheâs getting fucked within an inch of her life.
kyle actually has the audacity to pause mid thrust to say, âdamn, i didnât know you could sing like that.â
he laughs when she gives him a whiny shut up and fuck me please. he watches the way her scowl disappears when he pulls out, then bullies his cock back into her drooling pussy.
âfuck, pussyâs so tight and wet around my dick, just gushing,â kyle hisses out with a roll of his hips, eyes almost crossing when she tightens around his cock. âyouâre gonna strangle me to death. christ.â
âiâm sorry,â she manages to choke out through the overwhelming sensation of his cock hitting her sweet spot repeatedly. she was in fucking heaven.
âdonât be. youâre doinâ so good for me, sweetheart,â kyle croons in her ear. âyouâre takinâ me so well. gonna have you fallinâ apart on this dick every night.â
âplease.â his words are entirely too much for her handle.
âplease what?â kyle coos, as his cock drags against her spongy walls. âgonna see how good youâll be when i stretch that ass out with my fingers first, and then on my cock.â
the cry she emits when her senses white out completely and all she can feel is the sheer pleasure of her orgasm, is loud enough to be heard out in the hallway.
kyle doesnât slow down when he tells her to give him one more. she wants to call him greedy, but sheâs too busy moaning and writhing underneath him while he rubs her clit in sync with his thrusts. when she cums again, kyle is filling her pussy up to the brim with his seed and moaning her name.
kyle has to force her out of bed after he suggests they shower and change the sheets. she whines about being tired, but lets him guide her to the bathroom anyway.
she spirals a little when sheâs sure she kyle is sleeping. she doesnât want him to hear her weeping. and the second a pitiful whimper escapes her mouth, sheâs out of the bed and locking herself in the bathroom, where she can cry freely.
she tries to avoids kyle after that, but heâs not having it.
he wonât let her run from this. when she tries to deny it, he calls her out on it and lets her know that theyâll be having a lengthy discussion when he gets back. âmy teammates and i are leaving base. gotta put an end to some shit none of us want to deal with, and iâm not sure when iâll be back, sweetheart.â
during the three months that kyle is gone, sheâs missing him more than she thought she would. phone calls and video calls arenât enough anymore. he tries to soothe her by telling her heâll be seeing her soon, but she cries anyway.
itâs only then that she comes to a startling realization.
she finally tells her therapist what sheâs been wanting to tell kyle for weeks.
i think i love him. no, i know i love him.
when she sees kyle again, she launches herself at him immediately, much to everyoneâs surprise, because since when was kyle dating anyone.
soap, price, and ghost canât help but to stare at her and kyle in wonder. sheâs clutching at kyle, while crying her eyes out and telling him how much she loves him and how much she misses him. eyebrows raise when she drags him into a kiss thatâs damn near pornographic.
kyle beams at her when he pulls away from the kiss, before he pulls her in for a soft peck and a hug that leaves her a little breathless.
and leave it up to him to ruin the moment when he says, âso, about that talk.â
she just groans and lets him drag her across the tarmac.
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a/n: thank you for sending this message and i hope you enjoy.
#sheâs doing her best#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#kyle garrick#kyletogaz talks#just kyle âthings#kyletogazwrites
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