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#kyle garrick
ave661 · 1 day
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sky-is-the-limit · 1 day
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Me wondering why it's automatically pulsing Kyle's name in morse code whenever I see him:
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Also, one of my biggest celeb crushes since 2015:
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Exfil thoughts with Soap MacTavish.
Soap: There are 21 million penguins in Antarctica.
Soap: The population of Scotland is 5.454 million…
Soap: If all the penguins suddenly decided to invade Scotland, each person would have to fight off more than 3 million pe-
Gaz: I��ll pay you to be quiet.
Ghost: Why would they suddenly decide to invade Scotland? What did you do to them?
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witchthewriter · 2 days
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Gaz: I sleep with a knife under my pillow.
Soap: Weak. I sleep with a gun.
Y/N: You’re both pathetic
Soap: What do YOU sleep with?
Y/N: Simon.
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yumethefrostypanda · 2 days
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Sergeant Garrick
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forsworned · 1 day
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more poly!141 x reader 🤭🤭🤭🫶🫶🎀‼️💌💌
( i love your writting 🫶😰💐💐 )
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࣪ ೀ ࣪ ⏤ TEARS & TAUNTING ft. POLY!TF141
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⠀⠀⠀⠀࣪ ೀ ࣪ ⏤ 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖼!! 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀!! 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗒𝗌𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌⠀⠀⠀⋆⠀𖥔 ࣪⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀࣪ ೀ ׅ ࣪ ⏤ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀(𝗌) 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗒𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉
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"Might I ask why there's hair in the toaster? Should I be concerned?"
Price inquired as he showed the room the toaster that had strands of hair poking out of it.
"[name] thought it was a blow dryer." Kyle replied, licking the tip of his thumb before flipping the page of his Military Illustrated magazine. He crossed his legs over the coffee table where he had his feet propped up and the amusement on his face was growing by the second, so of course Johnny has to join in.
"Did not!" She objected, throwing his fists to her thighs in a childish manner. Her voice was muffled from the gauze stuffed into her gums to absorb the bleeding of her gums.
"Did too." Johnny bit his lip to stifle the laughter that was threatening to come out, and even in her whimisical and dazed state after her wisdom tooth removal she just coherent enough to know that he was being an ass.
"Stop it!" She cried out, tears were threatening to flow down her cheeks at any given moment (she already cried seven times today).
Simon sighed as he slapped the back of Johnny's head before stroking a comforting hand over her shoulder in an effort to relax her stupified state.
"Ow!" Johnny pouted, as he rubbed the back of his head. Kyle can't help but laugh at them.
Whack! Price smacked the back of the Sergeant's head with a rolled up newspaper.
"Ow!" Kyle whined, mimicking Johnny's gesture. The Scot snickered at this before getting simultaneously walloped by both Simon and Price.
[name]'s deepened pout had lit up at the sight of their sheningan's and erupted into a cute fit of giggles. They all visibly softened at the sound of her mirth and the way her face beamed. Kyle and Johnny had immeditaly felt remorseful for their taunting
"Aw, we're sorry, hen." Johnny apologized as he kissed her forehead.
Kyle pecked her cheek as he carded his fingers through her hair. "Didn't mean to make you cry, ducky."
Soon they were peppering her with kisses causing her to wriggle under their saccharine gesture. And that only ignited their actions, as their stubble tickled at her skin and her laughter grew.
SImon and Price shared a look before shaking their heads at the two idiots. Easy to get under your skin, easier to forgive (with the condition of being showered with love).
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𝖺/𝗇: 𝗆𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝖺𝗍 '𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀' 𝗅𝗆𝖿𝖺𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒?? 𝗂𝖽𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝖾
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temeyes · 9 hours
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quickie w/ gaz!! missed drawing my boyfieeeeeee
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yawnderu · 2 days
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ghostgazsoap competitive eaters 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️ they’re all trying to get a taste of you for themselves and not letting the others even try to get a handful 🤔 just messy and shameless ‼️
So desperate and needy, spreading your legs as wide as they can without hurting you just to try to eat you out at the same time, broad shoulders and big arms with bulging muscles preventing them from getting it :((
Sometimes they're lucky enough to get to your sweet cunt, their saliva mixing in with your juices, making an absolute mess out of you, yet they're just so desperate to taste you that they simply can't take turns. Bunch of animals acting like they're starving :((
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femalefemur · 2 days
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Modern Warfare (2019)
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Solidifying my (and many people's) belief that this is the body type (the second) the 141 boys would have. The type of activities they do, the work they have, it's heavy on the body. And they are built to take every bit of it, and keep going with strength and ferocity~
*from Kelly Turnbull and her demonstration on drawing accurate male anatomy. She is absolutely brilliant and gives well formed info on the different kinds of styles and functions of the body. Please please please support her and her hard work.*
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slater-baby · 1 day
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The 141 and their massage therapist...
Yeah so I have horrible carpal tunnel and this....yeah just HEAR ME OUT
!!!DUB CON!!!
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The 141 take their training pretty seriously. However, their line of military work is no stranger to service related injuries. Back pain, ankle sprains, muscle cramps - you name it and the 141 has had it. And that is where you come in: the cheap, young, and inexperienced massage therapist charged with taking care of them. You're fresh out of school and still working to get your footing, but you'll be damned if you don't take care of these veterans to the best of your ability.
Though, as life would have it, you take care of a lot more than just the occasional crick in the neck.
-
Price is older than you. That, and very obviously used to being in control. His rank and reputation give him away. Even at your first meeting, you feel silently infatuated with his stature. He's kind and charming, used to cracking jokes, but also used to things going his way. He's confident and mature - something you're very much lacking.
And from the moment you first shake his hand, one thing becomes very, very obvious: his attraction to you is completely unashamed.
Sprawled out on your table with just a towel covering his bulging cock, meaty hands swiping over the hair on his chest while he waits for you to get the oils ready.
"Ready whenever you are, darling."
And the whole time, you can't help but shiver in flustered admiration at his big biceps and chest, hands nearly shaking with trepidation at the beautiful, tempting mass of man beneath you.
And like the shameless man that he is, he absorbs every single second of it. He flexes his arms in your grip, just to watch the way heat rushes to your cheeks. He purposefully edges the towel down a bit lower, just so that you'll bite your lip when the tip of his cock just barely peeks over the top of it.
He's not ashamed to be exposed to you. Hell, he likes it. Likes watching the way you fawn over his bare arms and built legs, likes watching you try to hide the way you bite your lip every time you pour a bit more oil over his skin.
He's always polite and kind.
"Little bit more to the left, darling?"
He always says please and thank you.
And yet, he can't help but tease you with the promise of his naked body, brush his arm against you when he readjusts his position on the table. And when he gets redressed and walks you back to the front desk after each appointment, his hand never fails to rest on your lower back, guiding you along with him, letting you bask in his scent and touch.
And one day, as you're massaging his arm, he sees you crossing your legs like it'll give you even an ounce friction between your thighs. You can't hide the obvious heat in your eyes when he reaches over the edge of the table and ever so slightly brushes over the back of your thigh, reaching up to trace the pretty little your panties make underneath your trousers.
"Sweetheart," he drawls, feeling the way your hand clenches around his skin the harder he traces the panty lines down in between your legs, "Think it's about time I took care of you instead now, yeah?"
Needless to say, it's the first time you've ever been laid out on your own massage table. Though, judging by the way John leaves a trail of hickeys from your waist to neck, you'll soon be doing it again.
-
If Gaz is anything, he's an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you of the boys you met in college. Y'know, the kind of guys you were partnered up with for group discussions? Smiley, sweet, almost idyllic. Idly, you admit you found them cute for a fleeting moment. Perhaps you imagined for a couple seconds what it might be like to go on a date with them. Usually, it stopped there.
But Gaz...
With his lean, hard-earned muscles and spotless skin, he looked like the star in all of your college boyfriend fantasies - with the D1 physique to go with it.
He's talkative and has no shortage of funny jokes. The two of you become fast friends.
Only, it's really hard to concentrate on conversation when your hands get to run over each and every inch of his covetable body. His defined hipbones, veiny forearms, and muscled calves. You find yourself drifting into thought as your hands run from his neck to his shoulder, all the way down to his pristine fingertips.
You're nearly salivating as you watch the way his biceps bend and curve underneath your hands.
"Love," he suddenly shocks you out of your reverie, "Did you hear what I said?"
"Uh--no," you admit, hurriedly pulling your eyes away from where the dimples of his back disappear beneath the towel and onto the boring, beige walls, "Sorry, it's just been a long day."
"No worries," he chuckles, that same, friendly smile on his face.
Only, when he turns to lay his face back onto the table with a roll of his perfect shoulders, you swear you hear a muffled "looked like something caught your eye for a second there..."
And like that, the two of you continue on. Him, making joke after joke - getting more and more suggestive as the days go on.
One day, after a particularly rough work out, you manage to wrangle him on the table. His sore legs scream for help with every massaging touch.
"Fuck," he curses, legs shaking in your hand, "Can you go a bit easier, love? Think I'm liable to pass out at this rate."
You chuckle, pressing into the spot harder, "Trust me, you'll feel better after this."
"I dunno," he grunts, biting his cheek, "Look, it usually means that something feels good when my legs start shaking. But this is just--fuck--"
His words are cut off by a wince, but they stick in your mind nonetheless. A notable runner-up comes a week later. You'd twisted your ankle at the gym just an hour before Kyle's appointment. Your foot had been so sore you'd had a hard time standing straight.
"You okay? Need some Tylenol or something?" he'd commented, worried.
"It's nothing, just twisted it," you'd brushed him off with a smile, "I'll take care of it when I get home."
"You sure?" he'd laughed, looking down at your ankle, "It looks like it hurts. Might just have to trade places with you today, get you on the table instead."
You'd laughed along and made some snide joke about him trying to get out of another painful session. And yet, you can't deny that his voice had lingered in your head long after he'd left the room that day.
It all comes to a head one week when you misjudge the time of your appointment with Kyle and accidentally walk in five minutes early...
...Only to see him with his jeans halfway down the hips you'd been massaging not two days earlier, a big, covered bulge front and center of his unzipped fly. And from the minute you walk in, you swear you can feel the heat building between the two of you. And when that friendly smile drops, you know one thing for sure now: Gaz had never wanted to settle for "just friends" to begin with.
When he gently reaches for your wrist to pull you into the room, bending you over the massage table this time, it's safe to say his strong hands, beautiful body, and hard cock put all of your fantasies to shame. That, and he's decidedly unfriendly when he steals your phone out of your purse, wordlessly entering his phone number while you're still sexed out and dazed on top of the massage table.
-
Ghost, however, is not friendly. Not friendly in the slightest.
Your first meeting - if it could even be counted as one - consisted of about two words and about ten awkward grunts from the masked man. When you handed him the consent forms, your hands felt like they were dripping with sweat. And when he ended up on your table a week later, you almost felt like you were being held at gunpoint when you uncorked the bottle of oil.
He was silent the entire time. Well, for the most part. His only interactions with you consisted of low, breathy sighs as you worked through a knot. Or a small, wordless grunts when you found a spot that he liked. If he found your hands slowing in their ministrations, your eyes lingering on where his scarred pelvis disappeared beneath the towel, he'd snap you back to attention with a single command.
"Love," he'd growl, muscles tensing dangerously underneath your hands, "This is your job, innit? So do it then."
And even if you still harbored the smallest bit of wariness about the guy, you had to admit:
Ghost was big. Like, really, really big.
His feet nearly dangled off of your table with how tall he was. He had to fold his arms underneath his head because his shoulders were too broad to fit on the cushions. You can't even fit your fingers around one half of his massive arm. And his hands - god, his hands. They looked almost twice the size of your own. Some small, timid part of you muses, "if he started swinging, he'd take me out with one hit."
But the other, more prominent side of you thinks...
He would have no problem pinning you underneath him, popping the buttons on your shirt, spreading your legs. He could pick you up, push you against the wall, and take what he wanted - fuck you hard enough that your coworkers could hear it through the drywall.
And then all those breathy groans he tried so hard to muffle in the crook of his elbow would be well and truly yours.
And with those thoughts coursing through your mind...really, it isn't a surprise when he finds your eyes lingering on where the towel covers his half-hard cock. After so many appointments watching you try to hide your obvious attraction to him, he found you looking at his crotch a lot these days.
And when you begin massaging his abs, running your hands down from his plush pectorals to the beginning of the v-line on his pelvis, he doesn't miss the way your hands twitch against his hipbone. Like this, leaned over him, you can barely see the tip of his cock pressed up against his belly button, drops of precum gathering in the hair there.
So lost in your own trance, you don't even register that your hands have stopped moving until he emits an amused scoff. And when his calloused hand pushes yours away, using the tip of his finger to fold the towel back just enough to expose his leaking cock to your eager eyes, you can't even begin to deny the way your blood boils in your veins.
"You're staring," he tells you lowly, watching how you bite your lips at every twitch of his dick.
"M'sorry," your stunted voice replies, "It's just that you're so...big."
"Mm," he hums, reaching down to give himself a teasing tug; the oil lubes him up nicely, "Big in the ways that count."
You don't reply, you only watch him touch himself with rapt attention, practically drooling.
"You wanna touch me here too?" he teases, getting off on the clueless flush you wear, "It's your job, innit? So do it, slag."
As a massage therapist, you took pride in taking away your patients' pain. Sprains, aches, limps - they all cowered before you. And yet, when you leave your own office with a limp in your step and a ten digit phone number scrawled on the back of your hand, you can do nothing more than smile.
It's safe to say your clothes are well and truly ruined by the time you make it home. And it wasn't from the massage oil.
-
Soap is...well, he's just as bombastic as he is in the field on your table.
In the beginning, he was a bit awkward. He flinched and shocked every time you hit a sore spot, a red flush high on his cheeks. For the first few appointments, he can barely field a conversation with you. And even when he gets over his stunted silence, he can hardly keep the stutter out of his voice. For his sake, you try not to laugh anytime he makes an awkward comment.
However, Johnny has always been a firecracker. He throws himself into each and every challenge without a second thought. And while it's paid off nicely in his professional life, it hasn't always been kind on his body.
As the weeks go on, he shows up on your table more often than anyone else. He even manages to nag you into a few private sessions just to ease his aching back after particularly grueling workouts.
"C'mon, bonnie," you hear his familiar whine over the phone, "Gimme twenty minutes. Just twenty. I dinnae mean to whinge, but the Cap'n's cross today. Had me running laps 'til I keeled over. M'legs feel like toothpicks."
And more often than not, you give in to his demands.
While Johnny sometimes eats away at your personal time, you can't help but take a liking to him. After all, his sunny personality and witty turn of phrase would keep anyone entertained. It's just...his brawny body doesn't fail to be the star of every single wet dream you could ever conjure. His thighs are massive and strong, and his chest looks so muscled and soft you can't help but dream of laying against them.
And it certainly doesn't help that his sore body oftentimes makes him the most vocal out of all four of them. That, and his entire body seems to come alight underneath your fingertips with every bruising touch.
"Oh, fuck," his hand shoots out suddenly to grab you around the wrist, pressing you harder into where you're massaging his hip, "Just like that, bonnie. Fuck, you're so good at that..."
And as the weeks go on, you can't help but work harder and harder, relishing in every groan and praise that drops from his lips.
"God, you're perfect," he tells you one night as you massage his thigh.
"Can you--can you go just a bit lower? It's just...my hip's fucked. Can't even walk straight," he chuckles with another week, his pale face deepening into a sheepish, red blush. Looking away from your face, he edges down the towel to expose his sore hip. The next groan he lets out is stifled, his arm thrown over his face - as if the two of you still had even a shred of decency left between each other.
And now that you've solidified your friendship, he's not as awkward anymore. Yes, he still flushes when you first walk in, his nude body on display. But the minute you begin to work into his tense muscles, it all washes away.
Only, during one session, you begin to notice how your hands have a different effect on him than you'd ever seen before.
You're massaging his hip again, pressing into it with nearly your full weight. After a week of hard work, Johnny's beyond decorum, biting into his lip as he tries to stifle loud, relieved moans with each and every knead.
And when you hit one sweet spot in particular, you don't miss a twitch beneath the towel.
"Right there," he tells you breathlessly, "That's - that's where it hurts."
And just like he tells you, you press into it again. And with every move, you watch him get harder and harder beneath the cover, the muscles in his legs tensing while you work through the knot. The towel skews to the side, and even as his aching, red cock is exposed to the air, he hardly takes notice - too caught up in your touch to think straight.
"God, bonnie," he grunts roughly, jerking beneath you hands, "Fuck--"
And to your (pleasant) surprise, the next move finds more than just oil lubing up your palms.
He cums with a grunt, untouched, naked beneath your eyes. And you watch as his ejaculate paints up and over his slick abs, his entire stomach clenching while he rides out the pleasure.
At the very least, he has the sense to be embarrassed about it. For a good moment, he can do nothing more than sit there panting, his arm over his eye while he hurriedly pulls the towel back up.
"I'm - God, I'm sorry, bonnie. I swear I didn't mean to," he blurts out, uncovering his eyes to send you a look of desperate sincerity.
However, when he sees you staring down at his slick, semen covered stomach, an undeniable heat in your eyes...
Well, the shame flees to the back of his mind. Without even trying, he's hard underneath the towel within minutes. And at your lack of a reply, he can't help but cut into your personal time just one more time.
"Bonnie..." he asks, trying to hide the eager look in his eye, "Think we could go another twenty minutes? I promise I'll make it worth your while."
-
HM YEP OKAY WOW CAN YOU TELL THESE GET LONGER AND LONGER THE MORE I THINK ABOUT THEM lkjaljdsflkafj
anyway ;-; this is me venting after a very long week at school. Hope you guys enjoyed ❤️
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chamomiletealeaf · 3 days
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Johnny or Simon or Gaz or all of them with a Jacob’s Ladder 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫
I’m sorry I just need to feel the piercings inside of me. I know it would feel so good rubbing against the ribs of my walls 😩
Like I need them to fuck me fast, hard, and deep cuz I know that sensation has GOT to be overwhelmingly good.
Or slowly sucking them off and how the metal balls would feel on my tongue. God I need them so bad…
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konigsblog · 1 day
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I feel like if a delusional gaz non-coned someone, he could probably convince himself it was consensual, no matter how violent the act was
tw: rape/non-con. dead dove: do not eat. MDNI 18+
definitely... he's aware that rape is illegal and completely immoral — frowned apon, that rapists are shunned for their self-absorbed and greedy actions — that forcing himself onto someone would make him a disturbing and disgusting bastard. to cope with the shame and guilt, he lies to himself, forcing himself to believe he'd done nothing wrong.
kyle was drunk at the moment, but not drunk enough to make a stupid decision, one like this. he'd gotten himself intoxicated so he could use it as an excuse the next morning, waking up with his cum crusted along your bare thighs, and your holes aching from the force of his dick pushed inside your wet holes.
the entire time, his stomach was churning with guilt and disgust. kyle felt ashamed that he'd stooped so low — that he'd raped a teammate, simply because he hadn't had sex in a while. although, who would believe the new recruit, a pathetic rookie like you? they'd accuse you of lying — assume you're trying to ruin his social status, how people viewed him. surely, you're just lying, a sick and callous attempt at ruining his reputation, giving him a bad look?
he sobbed to you, waking up by raping your swollen cunt once again. he was insatiable — hungry for more. gaz grinded and rolled his broad, strong hips back and forth through tears, begging you with a hand over your mouth to be quiet. he was wrong and selfish, pulling out and cumming all over your marked, bruised thighs, dizzy of the pleasurable sensation... :(
but, whenever you attempted to bring it up, to talk about what had happened that night, he'd shut you down. he'd accuse you of being too drunk and hungover to understand what had happened, glaring at you for throwing around these accusations.
you should make it up to him, shouldn't you? i mean, how do you think this is affecting his mental health, dove?
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Soap: On leap day we should remember nature’s most talented leapers.
Soap: Like lizards.
Ghost: Spiders.
Gaz: Deers.
Price: Your ability to jump to conclusions about my personal life.
Soap: We saw you staring at Nik’s arse.
Ghost: Kangaroos.
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lovifie · 17 hours
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Lift Me Off My Feet
Chapter 11: Gaz’s Date
Masterlist
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10
W: Gaz x Reader, jealous Gaz, the tiniest bit of toxic Gaz, degradation, spanking, rough sex.
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A ruckus at the door brings you out of the book you were reading, a mischievous laugh on the other side of the door and when it finally opens you can't help but mimic Gaz's wide smile as he runs to you. He holds your face kissing you before asking: “Do you wanna go on a date with me tomorrow?”
There is an urge to the way he asks, making you want to say no just to tease him; but it's been days since you left the house so you quickly nod. He kisses you again, pulling the book off your hands and laying it down on the table (open, so you don't lose the page).
He softly pushes you back with the kiss, making you lie down on the sofa with him on top of you. You still wonder why he was in such a rush, and it gets answered when Soap enters the house panting and calling your name. 
“I'm here, Johnny.” You say, waving your hand so he can see you from the door. His face lights up for the second it takes him to see Gaz is already lying on top of you, looking up at him with a shit-eating grin. 
“Too slow, Johnny.” Gaz teases. “My date and I are already set.”
“Oh, away n' bile yer heid!” The scotsman complains, but still lays down on top of the two of you making you groan. You can tell Gaz is using his strength to take some of Soap's weight off of you, because you know damn well that if you had to lie under the two brick houses you would pop a lung. 
You chuckle at Soap's dramatism, looking at Gaz. “What are you not telling me, you little shit?” He looks at you with a boyish smile on his face, mischief clear on his eyes, not even bothering to play it as innocent. 
“There is this military gala that Price is making all of us attend.” He explains. “And now you are attending too.”
“Wait.” You say, reality is settling in. You slip from under him, sitting up and Gaz pushes Soap off of him making him fall on the floor; both of them sitting up on their new locations. “A military gala? Like… meeting your bosses and all of that? And like… what I'm supposed to do there? I don't-”
“Well technically…” Gaz cuts you off. “Price is our boss. And those that are over him usually leave really early, we go mostly to see old colleagues and get drunk. And you are attending… as my girl.”
“Our girl.” Soap quickly chimes in, correcting Gaz.
“Uh uhh” Gaz answers, shaking his finger. “My date, my girl. You already got yours.”
Gaz pulls you, sitting you on his lap as a petulant child who has been asked to share a toy. 
“Oi, Garrick, don't make me beat yer arse.” Soap argues, but quiets down when you move his head to rest on your lap.
“But then… you are introducing me to your… friends?” You ask, anxiousness setting on your stomach. “Are you sure about it?”
Gaz furrows his eyebrow at your question. “Are you asking if I'm sure about letting my friends know about you?”
You look from Gaz to Soap, both with the same confused expression. “Bonnie, if I could I'll keep ye in my pocket just so I could show ye to every single person I come across.”
“Exactly, like…” Gaz looks at you confused. “I think you keep forgetting that we are obsessed with you, birdie.” He chuckles.
He hugs you, kissing your cheekbone. “I want to introduce you to everyone I know, birdie. You are somebody to drag about.”
His words help to ease the thoughts inside your brain, finally letting your anxiety travel to other important matters.
You gasp. “The dress John bought me is still at base…”
“Ye aren't wearing the same dress again.” Soap chimes in. “Ghost and Price are buying ye another one.”
“They are shopping together?” You ask, confused.
“Laswell is probably with them too, so don't worry, I'll be pretty.” Gaz explains, as if you know who the fuck Laswell is. 
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It is already nighttime when you leave the house, hand on hand with Gaz. Feeling the prettiest girl at the world with the constant compliments for the four men. 
Once inside the venue, Gaz’s hand doesn't lift from your back. Always guiding you, introducing you to people and pulling you away from others that, according to him: “is not worth even knowing their names.”
Making sure to enunciate the “She's my partner” to anyone who asks, it was spoken before, that this was not the place to explain to everyone how the poly relationship worked to the old military men who were struggling to look up to your face and not stare at your chest. 
It doesn't make the other three men complain any less, Price going “Garrick” whenever the sergeant becomes a little too enthusiastic about you and him. There are a couple of people that Ghost tells you, know about their arrangements. Not the tiny details, but enough to know that there is something between the four of them and that if you are involved with Gaz, you are involved with the rest.
One of those people, is Alex Keller. Whom Gaz is really excited to introduce you to, and who ends up sitting at the same table as you. 
It is a round table, wide enough not to be able to reach Ghost's feet that is sitting right in front of you as you sit between Soap and Gaz. Gaz is also sitting next to Alex, and as the night goes on he slowly turns more and more towards him, giving you his back. 
You turn to Soap, pout on your face. “I think my date is on a date with somebody else.” You know it is unfair, they haven't seen each other in years and are just catching up; still, you are glad Soap is next to you or else you'll feel quite alone. 
“Ye can always make out with me.” Soap proposes, making you chuckle. “But I think I have an even better idea.”
Now, you know both sergeants are little mischievous shits; but the smile on Soap's face still makes you rethink on how much trouble you are going to get yourself into.
“Have any of us told ye that Gaz is a really jealous man?” Soap asks, leaning into your chair and resting his arm on the backrest of it. “Like, really jealous.”
“Gaz?” You ask, quite shocked that the so-sure-of-himself man is the jealous man out of the four. 
Soap nods, smiling still. “When we started, Gaz and I were the ones that mixed the pairs, to say it simply. And Gaz knew Ghost and I were already messing with each other, still, at the beginning whenever I'd kiss Ghost, Gaz would turn his head. I promised ye, if I hadn't seen him suck my dick I'd guess he was homophobic.”
His choice of words as you cover your mouth so Gaz can't hear you laugh, leaning more onto Soap's side. “That's why he pulled me away from you on the sofa?” You ask and Soap quickly nods, a smile on his face. 
“Especially ye, since you are the last addition. The three of us have been reassuring him that we love him to bits for years now, but ye still have a long road to go, bonnie.” He says, starting to look around looking for somebody. “And I think I have an idea of how to show ye.” 
He waves at somebody behind you after a second, urging them to come closer. You look behind, seeing a tan man approach with a smirk on his face. 
“Soap, hermano, long time no see” He says, clapping hands with Soap. “What have you been up to?”
“Alejandro, let me introduce ye to Birdie.” He says, before saying your actual name and repeating Alejandro's name to you. He shakes your hand, making you smile at the formalities and he winks at you, satisfied with making you smile. “And actually, I think she can use some of yer help.” He signals the man to bend down to whisper to him. “How do ye feel about messing with Gaz a bit?”
“Let me guess, if I say yes I get to flirt with the pretty lady?” He asks, whispering as well and laughing when Soap nods. “A huevo, hermano. I'm in.”
He pulls an empty chair from a close by table, Soap pulls your chair and Alejandro sits between you and Gaz. Who has yet to notice the treachery taking place behind him. 
It is easy to forget that you are doing this to get a raise out of Gaz, especially with how funny the conversation gets between Alejandro and Soap. Telling you about Soap's absolute lack of ability to learn Spanish, and how it almost got him into problems when he accidentally asked for a male prostitute instead of a cigar, when he kept getting the words puro and puto mixed up. 
You are laughing out loud, almost crying for it, not just you, the three of you. Alejandro is rocking back and forth on his chair, and his hand lands on your thigh, innocent enough that it doesn't even make you uncomfortable. But not innocent enough for Gaz, who has been side-eyeing the three of you for a bit now, Alex chuckling when he noticed he had stopped listening to him. 
The moment Alejandro's hand lands on you, he springs into action, standing up and walking behind you. “Birdie. Can I talk to you for a minute? In private.”
You stand up, knees weak at the look on Gaz's face. He easily pulls your chair back so you can walk. He grabs your hand once you take the first step and pulls you towards the bathroom stalls. You look back to Soap, and see him, Alejandro and Alex who have just taken your place smiling at you with a thumbs up. 
He pushes you inside the stall, locking the door behind you and then presses you against the wall, his hips pressed plush against yours. His hand grabs your jaw, making you look at him to his face. “What the fuck do you think you were doing, birdie?”
“What?” You ask, playing dumb.
“What?” He asks back, high pitched voice mimicking yours, his other hand raising to pinch your nipple through the thin fabric of the dress making you hiss. “Do you think I'm blind? Deaf? Or just plain old stupid? Hm?”
“I don't know what- AH!” He pinches hard, making you whine, cutting you off.
“Don't lie to me, birdie.” He says, face getting close to yours where you can feel his breath on yours. “Has Alejandro left you stupid or something?”
“You were ignoring me!” You complain, trying to act tough as if his degrading tone wasn't making you grow wet by the minute. 
“Oh! So that's it!” He asks, dry laughing. “I speak with a person for one minute!” He says, raising a finger to accentuate his words. “And you are already looking for another dick to choke on, right?”
“That's not true!” You argue, trying to avoid his gaze.
“Then show me, birdie. Show me mine is the only dick you want to choke on.” He says, rubbing his crotch against your abdomen. 
The moment he pulls back, you drop to your knees helping him get his belt undone. He lowers his briefs, shaft springing free and pulsing right in front of your face. He is already hard and it makes you wonder whether he was already when he stood up from the table. 
He grabs your wrist, and when his tip is inside your warm mouth he thrusts forward hitting the back of your throat hard making you gag but pulling your hands behind his back to prevent you from moving back. 
It’s ironic how similar it is to the first night you met him, when Price cuffed you around his waist. 
He thrust forward hard, your eyes watering as you fight your gag reflex. You wonder for a second if he is actually getting any kind of pleasure other than the feeling of humiliation you. 
One of his hands moves to the back of your head, pushing you closer until your nose reaches his happy trail. You look up to him, vision blurry with tears. 
He groans, pulling your hair to push you back and then up to have you standing. He turns you around, pushing your head against the wall. “I guess I have no other option but to fuck your ungrateful pussy, hm? Fuck you stupid so you can stop whoring yourself to every man? How many more dicks do you need, birdie? How much of a slut are you that four dicks the size of your bloody forearms are not enough?”
It shouldn't be turning you on as it is, every single feminist cell on your body getting ignored by all your blood flowing to your cunt pulsing with anticipation. 
He pulls your dress up, pushing your panties to the side before probing your entrance with his tip. He knows it's gonna sting, but in his jealousy-driven mind, that's what he wants. For your body to remember him tomorrow. 
He pushes forward, slowly, covering your mouth when you cry at the sting; waiting stills once he bottoms out to let go of your mouth. 
He grabs both your wrists on his hand behind your back, still keeping your head pushed against the wall. There is a loud sound of his hips slapping against yours, accompanied by the moans and pants of both of you. 
You could as well have the door open with the way you are fucking, everyone that walks by would know perfectly fine what's going on. 
He bends forward, close to your face, talking to you through gritted teeth. “This is what you wanted, right? To get fucked like a whore? While everyone outside knows that you are getting fuck? Filthy, filthy slut.” 
He moves back, letting go of your head only to slap your ass hard enough to leave an imprint. It makes you jump, making him grunt when you clench around him. 
“Fucking. Take it. Whore.” He says, snapping his hips at every word, knocking the breath out of you. His heavy balls keep slapping against your clit, sending shockwaves up your column making your toes curl. 
He slaps your ass again, hard, always on the same spot. And he doesn't relent until he starts to see the little purple dots of a bruise forming on your asscheek. It has tears threatening to fall from your eyes, still pulsing around him so close for release. 
“I bet you are scared I'm gonna leave you hanging, right, whore?” He asks, reading your mind. The thought of the man finishing before you and leaving you wanting your release was on your mind since he made you stand from the table. “You don't even care about anything else, do you? As long as you get to cum, you don't care that I talk to you like you are trash, do you? Such a fucking whore, only thinking with your cunt.”
He chuckles behind you, not sparing you a second to breathe as your orgasm comes closer and closer. “Then cum, you fucking whore. I don't have all night.” 
And you do, whaling his name as your whole body shakes when the orgasm rains over you. Your head hits the tiling with a loud TONK as you do, making Gaz laugh meanly behind you at your lack of control. 
He lets go of your hands, letting you support yourself on your hands instead of your face. He holds your hips instead, thrusting in and out fast and shallow, going after his own release. 
You clench around him, the overstimulation getting to you and that is enough for Gaz to spill thick ropes of his spent inside of you. Pulling out to see it spill out, just for him to shove his dick back inside making you moan when fucks his cum back inside of you. 
“Kyle!” You whine, needing a moment to breathe. He chuckles behind you, getting his dick out and moving to grab toilet paper to dry himself off you. You look under you, between your legs seeing the thin strip of his seed spilling out of you onto the floor. 
“Aw, birdie, you're letting it go to waste.” He comments behind you, while he puts his pants back up. 
You give him a look making him chuckle and you stand up, leaning back on the sink with wobbly legs. He walks between them, pushes one of your legs apart with his and gets two of his fingers back inside of your saturated cunt. 
You groan, slapping his arm. “I'm just making sure that you can feel my cum slipping out of you for the rest of the night so you can stop acting like a whore.” He says, beaming with a smile. 
He takes his fingers out, helping you clean up and throw the paper away. He holds you in his arms, the jealousy flushed out of his system turning him back onto his clingy self. 
You look up to him, his eyes shiny with love on them. Smiling widely at you. You don't know what pushes you to say it, but once it leaves your lips you are not sure who is more flabbergasted out of the two. 
“I think I love you, Kyle”
“Wh- Bird- I- You can't…” he sighs, resting his head on yours. “You can't say such a thing right after I called you a whore, Birdie!” He complains, trying to hide the smile on his voice. 
“Hm, don't call me a whore then!” You argue, the same smile on your face. “Are you not going to say it bac-”
Before you can finish the question, his lips are on yours. Plush soft lips kissing you lovingly, he is almost hugging your head with how tightly he is hugging your shoulders. “I think I love you too, Birdie. You little minx”
You chuckle against his lips, butterflies on your stomach as if mere minutes ago it wasn't his dick you were feeling inside of you. It's a silly feeling, but a warm one indeed. 
He kisses you again, a soft peck on your lips before softly patting your butt (the side he didn't assault before) and saying. “Wash your face and get out before they think I murdered you.”
You chuckle, getting spooked at your reflection on the mirror. You grab paper again, working on taking most of the mascara running down your face and the smudged lipstick. 
You do a decent job at it, cleaning Gaz's lips as well and walking out of the bathroom, still feeling your knees ready to give up. It is clear that whichever high rank that was at the party must have left, because the quiet dinner from before is slowly turning into a party. 
On your table, only Ghost, Soap and Price are still sitting down. Most likely waiting to leave altogether, but it makes the walk easier and as you try to sit down, Price pulls you into his lap, Gaz groaning behind you. 
Price kisses your temple. “Are you ready to leave?” He asks softly, and you shake your head grabbing the champagne bottle for the middle of the table. “I'm finally out of the house, I want a party.”
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It's late at night when the five of you finally make it home. Everyone's a little bit tipsy, enough to make everyone clumsy and to have an easy laugh at everything. That's how you go to sleep, helping everyone get naked too tired to bother with any sleepwear. Between giggles, kisses and smacks to everyone's butts with the corresponding “EH!”
It is a comedic image, the bed not big enough but everyone still stubborn enough to sleep altogether. Too clingy to sleep apart from each other.
Price wishes he could sleep like this every night, knowing the five of you are safe and within reach. 
If only he knew he wasn't going to be able to do it again.
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TADAAA
Hi lovelies!! 💗
We are now on the last stretch, only one more chapter left. And it has me on my feelings to see the series end 😭
But anyway, hope you like it 💗
Also, debating whether to upload the last chapter later today or tomorrow, so we will see.
Make sure to leave a comment or a reblog if you did 💗💗
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If the 141 were in Mass Effect, you know everyone single one of them would be an N7. In the Systems Alliance for Earth in Mass Effect that’s the most elite, top tier, badass rank you can get. Ghost having a pet- *cough* trained varren was @starlightvld ‘s idea. Boo has adopted Soap until Shepard’ been set loose (though you know Price would totally break them out). Instead of calling them muppets, Price calls them all pyjaks (space monkey) because he was a krogan in another life.
As I doodled and tried to figure out their classes, I had this idea of Price starting a task force of N7s to help Shepard in the war against the reapers.
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