Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Enthusiast

You look up, already annoyed because it’s Johnny soap mactavish, your roommates best friend that you find to be more of a pest than anything else.

“Excuse me? Why are you even here? Kyle’s out.”

He ignores the latter question. “That guy last night? Fakest moans I’ve heard in a long time.”

You throw your pillow at him “piss off.”

He chuckles, grabbing the pillow from you, “maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight if you just got a good lay in ya.”

Which is how you end up sprawled on your bed with two of soaps fingers sunken into your pussy. “T-this is only happening once by the way.”

He rolls his eyes, curling his fingers upwards at a nasty angle that causes your hips to buck. “Dinnae worry, Princess. I got the message the last four times ya said it.”

His fingers are thick and his palm is calloused as it slams against your clit with each pump of his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to believe that Johnny might be right and he in fact might be the best lay you’ll ever have.

“Tell me, doll. What was it like? Did’ya ride his face since he can’t eat ya out properly or is he not enough for a pillow princess like you?”

The scowl on your face tells him you have some choice words as a response but he quickly cuts you off. “Oh please, we all know you’re definitely a pillow princess.”

He leans down, blowing against your tender clit before suckling at it lightly. Your legs tremble, threatening to close but a gentle spank followed by a large palm pressing against your thigh keeps you open.

The build up comes quicker than you’d like to admit. Your shallow breathes don’t do anything to hide the fact that you’re about to cum.

oh god- you’re cumming…cumming, cum-

You gasp at the sudden removal of his presence. You look up in shock, finding a smug Johnny between your legs. By the look on his face, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Fuck him.

“Beg for me, doll. Tell me you’re sorry for being such a brat all the time.”

You refuse. You might be teetering the edge of an orgasm but you still have your pride.

However, your refusal doesn’t put him off, instead he inches closer, fingers playing with your folds as if they were pages of a book. “It would be no fun if you were compliant anyways.”

You learn Johnny is a stubborn man- ruining orgasm after orgasm. He brings you to your high quickly, reckless demeanor contrasting with his precise movements.

Even when your pussy is squeezing his cock like it doesn’t want to let go, he finds the will to pull out and leave you shamefully pulsing around nothing.

He does this over and over and over- until you’re a sobbing mess. His name sounds so nice on your tongue followed by a broken “please” or “I’m sorry.”

But one isn’t enough. You’ve been a bitch to Johnny in the past, as he had been to you (but Johnny ignores this fact), and he plans on getting his fill all in one night.

You’re shaking and sweating, holding the base of the chair so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The circular sensation against your clit has been non stop and your brain is about to turn to mush because of it.

“You okay, love? You look tense.” You glare at price to which he gives you a knowing smirk. “Not too much now. I’m still your captain. Could send you to train the recruits if I wanted to.” There’s an intentional pause- as if to leave the mind to imagine. “although I doubt you’ll be able to demonstrate much in this state.”

You lift your hips off the chair in hopes to alleviate some of the friction but to no avail. A string of curses leaves your lips. “Fuck…I’m gonna cum.”

“Easy now.” Ghost chimes in. “Still in a briefing. Keep it professional, kid.”

“You could just take a guess- put an end to it.” Kyle so kindly suggests. There’s a few menacing chuckles in response. “Remember your forfeit though.”

And just like that- the sensation stops. It’s both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you no longer have to climax in front of your team at a mission briefing, while on the other, your thighs are now rubbing against one another for any amount of friction that could just give you that relief you need.

Later in the day, Soap finds you curled up on a couch, clutching your lower abdomen and eyes just a little bit glazed over. “You look like shite.”

And you felt like it. “One of you fuckers has been edging me all day,” you mumble, pressing your legs so tightly together as if that would do you any good.

“At least you know it’s not me, you know I like to give ya what you want.”

You shoot him a glare- because Soap will let you cum. The problem is, that’s all he does. You’re climaxing at least once an hour when he has your pussy, and he’s not shy to experimenting.

He’ll grind the toy against the corner of his desk, he’ll hold it under running water, he’ll even go so far as to tie it to a vibrator as he’s sleeping just to make sure you’re left satisfied.

And the day will always end the same- soap locked inside his room while you’re banging for him with cute glistening tears, begging and sobbing for him to stop which just isn’t enough for him until you’re sitting in a puddle of your own arousal outside his door.

“C’mon, lass. Just take a guess.” He steps closer, lifting your chin with a finger. His eyes glimmer with excitement when he sees the way you’re practically looking through him and not at him. “You get it right, you get your cute cunnie back. And if you get it wrong…” he leans closer to your ear, “I’ll take ya first and you know I’m good at making ya cum.”

The offer is tempting, and you almost mutter a name in his advice but suddenly you gasp when you feel a low vibration make contact with your sore clit.

You hunch over, gripping the back of the couch. “What’s going on?” You don’t even have the strength to look up but from voice alone, you know it’s Gaz.

“Looks like someone’s having fun.”

Gaz’s eyes trace from a smug soap to a pitiful you. “What d’they got going on?”

Your voice strains as you try to speak. “V-vibe.”

Gaz nods in understanding. “Sounds like ghost or price. Me? I’m a traditional man.”

Soap snorts. “Oh, we know.”

Gaz, cursed at him, rolling his eyes with no real heat behind it. But soap was right. Gaz always talking about how he wants to meet the love of his life “naturally” and properly court her, have a romantic wedding, have two kids (one boy, one girl), basically he was traditional in every sense.

This includes in the bedroom where he doesn’t believe in the need for toys. Instead, he’ll plunge his fingers in your pussy till it’s sopping and crying, and then he’ll drink it all up with the tip of his nose pushing against the hood of you clit- all to do it over and over and over again.

The pair continue to argue but you drown out their voices as you feel that sinking feeling deep in your gut again. The vibrations are so perfectly pressed against your clit that it has you seeing stars.

It has to be price, right? The fingers from earlier were rough with experience but the movements themselves were patient and experienced. They move in perfect circles up and down your folds, playing with them like pages on a book before teasingly flicking against your clit.

Or is it ghost? It’s more likely for ghost to be using a vibrator than price. He loves his toys, has a whole fancy collection that are “just for testin’” he says. But usually ghost is a little rougher, isn’t he? So maybe it’s-

The thought is cut off when you feel a blunt, large head of a vibrator forcefully being pushed against your opening. Your eyes widen, and whoever is toying with you isn’t in the room but you instinctively scream anyways which draws the attention of both Gaz and soap. “waitwaitwaitwait- It won’t fit!”

God- fuck- it had to be him. It had to be. Oh shit, just say a name. Or is it price? No- he wouldn’t. Or? Fuck- you could literally count down the seconds as the head stretches you wider and wider and - “Ghost! Stop it!”

And just like that…it stops. And for a moment, it feels like time stops.

“Oh? Looks like we have a name.”

You’re panting for dear life, vision blurry as you curl up in the couch, oblivious to the rest of the team flooding in the room.

Price kneels by your side, placing a warm hand on your forehead and using his thumb to brush away the hair that sticks to your forehead.

Once you catch your breath, you roll over slowly. Your vision is a blur, but it gradually comes to focus and you recognize price’s look of concern with the rest of them peering over his shoulder.

“Did I get it right?”

The men pause, none of them giving it away, until you notice a twitch of Price’s mustache followed my an upward turn of a crooked smile. “Oh, fuck.”

A deep and amused laugh confirms what you already know and Soap is already taking off his belt, “I’m going first, lads.”

“Why do you go first? Price did all of the work.” Gaz retorts, finger twitching in retaliation.

“Called dibs. Didn’t I, lassie?”

Gaz lets out a sputter of disbelief. “Oi, You can’t just call dibs on something like that!”

“Her mouth is still open if you want it.” Soap is already at your legs, grabbing them by the ankles and pulling them apart.

my reaction to the mw4 trailer.......

Older boyfriend!John (soap) mactavish x younger! Reader

Word count: 1,240

Estimated read time: 5 minutes

CW/: legal age gaps. Mentions of marriage and children. Sliiiiiiight very slight suggestive content. (If you squint?)

AN/: kind of a test. If yall like it I make make a part 2 to it! Tell me what you think!

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"It won't fit!!" You hiss, trying to squirm but unable to with the weight of ghosts hand pinning your hip to the bed.

"C'mon, lovie, look at it. Not that bad." Ghost coos, pressing his cock to lie against your pelvis, fhe tip practically at your belly button. Oh shit. "Bit o' work, but..."

Ghost slips his other hand down to your entrance, three fingers easily pop inside and you still know it isn't enough. Not when his cock jerks lazily and drools precum over your skin.

Some deeper part of you really wants to know what it feels like, wants to feel him in your mouth, between your hands, on your skin, inside you.

"Mh. Good choice." Ghost hums in delight when you allow your thighs to fall open that last bit, nervous but determined. He rubs his tip in circles around your entrance just to make you nervous, laughs to himself as the embarrassed whine you let out before pressing in—

"Fuckin' hell—!" Ghost groans, doubles over and only catches himself from falling on you by bracing a forearm next to your head. You can feel the huff through the fabric of his balaclava "christ— fuckin' tight—"

"Holy shit– ghost, ghost— fuck—" you toss your head back with a high keen, whole body burning from the sudden fullness. You've never used anything but your fingers before and nothing could have prepared you for this.

You grind into him as best as you can both overstimulated and still asking for more, completely lost in just how good it is—

"Fuck– you're so big—" you feel your core tighten and are unable to do anything, back arching off the bed, pulling ghost into a kiss as your orgasm crashes over you.

Only after you've caught your breath you notice ghost shaking, and slowly realize that asshole is silently laughing at you–

"Not even halfway." He snorts, presses a kiss to your jaw then sits up, still inside you, to show his still-hard cock, only a third of the way in.

You just came and ghost is only a third in.

Most of the men you meet aren't all that interesting, but there's this one guy...fucking hilarious, witty, a bit dry. His chat name might be "deadmeat" but by the pictures he sends it's anything but.

Deadmeat: thought of you again, bloody mess. Can't wait to have you.

The picture attached is his usual, hard cock covered in at least two previous loads, tip flushed pink and wanting. The calloused, tattooed hand it's cradled in is what drew you in initially. Most folk in the chat room were...well...gifted in size, and as fun as it is to imagine you can hardly manage two fingers on a good long day.

But this man? Perfect fit. About the width of his palm, fingers easily wrapping around. Not small by any means, but definitely not heart-stopping in a bad way.

You: just a few more days. Got the motel booked?

You make sure it's safe, of course you do. Swapping photos together in anticipation for the day.

Deadmeat, or ghost as he requested you call him now, is...a little different than you expected. Tall, for one, nearly brushing his head on the top of the doorframe when you nervously unlock the motel room.

You don't quite realize the breath of your mistake until you and ghost are half undressed in bed and you slip a hand under his waistband. You slide you hand along the soft hair at his base, wrap your hand over it and—

...no. no way.

The amusement on ghosts face as you frantically shove his pants down and pull out his dick is palpable. Holy shit, he's massive. You're a few centimeters shy of wrapping your hand around him, not to mention the length.

You swallow thickly, glance up at him.

The fucker has the audacity to chuckle, reaching down to wrap his impossibly large hands around his dick, give himself a few pumps "well? Everything you were expecting? Don't worry, i can make it fit."

Oh you are so screwed.

Sure, neither you nor kyle pressured ghost into it, but he's not strictly sober and he felt the event important enough to warrant it. He's been witness to your non-stop studying and exams stress enough to know how big this is for you. Ghost figures there's no harm in a few drinks

...except for the fact he's a total lightweight and completely forgot.

Which is how he ends up sat in the corner of your living room, eye's glued to you and kyle the entire night, not really moving except to grab a blanket to toss over his legs. You and gaz share a concerned look when ghost stumbles doing so, and while everyone else is trickling out, you stop ghost from grabbing his keys.

"You alright, simon? I think it's best you stay the night, we have a spare bedroom setup, okay?" You look over ghosts shoulder, nod to gaz in confirmation that ghost is staying regardless of what he says.

Thankfully, ghost makes it easy and mumbles, blushing "....stay. yes. I'll stay."

Getting ghost, a drunken three hundred and some pounds up the stairs and into the bedroom is difficult, but you and kyle make it work. While he goes to grab some water, you stay and help simon take off his shoes.

"Hey...hey. i...have a secret. To tell you." He mumbles, pawing at your wrist while you fight his laces. You furrow your brow, wait for him to continue "i....really like you. Like...wanna...hold yer hand. And kiss you. And fu–"

"Simon." You frown, face heating. "You're drunk, and I'm married to kyle. Go to bed."

"...kyle can join too." Ghost notes absently, dutifully tucking himself in even as he talks. Gaz joins that exact moment to enter the room, water in hand "pretty bloke, nice dick, great ass. Wouldn't mind bein' yer dog."

"...babe. what the fuck." Gaz whispers, just as shocked as you. You had feared ghost would attempt to make a move on you behind kyles back, but this is somehow worse when he looks you both dead in the eye.

He blushes so pretty around the scars, "Seriously. Like y' both. Would eat you out while kyle bends me over–"

"OKAY!!" you interrupt, face burning and shoving kyle out the door "that's enough of that, thank you simon! Drink water and sleep!!"

Once safely in the hallway, you and kyle share a look of complete understanding.

"...when he's sober?"

After the life Simon Riley has had, it’s really not surprising that he just can’t get it up anymore. He’s tried, time and time again, but the blood doesn’t pump through him the same way it did. And it isn’t that he doesn’t have a sex drive, god no, one look at you and he wishes he could fuck you into the mattress until your tears stain the pillows and the only sounds falling from your mouth are screams of pleasure.

You walk around the apartment, his big t-shirt on, no panties underneath, and it drives him insane. You’re an entire decade younger than him, young and sexy, and he can’t help but feel guilty for letting you stay with him knowing that he can’t give you what you want in bed.

It doesn’t stop him from eating you out until your clit is puffy and your walls are rubbed raw by his calloused fingers. When his head is between your legs, he tries, he really does. He gets so worked up, grinding his soft cock against the bed, willing it to get hard so he can fuck you right after, but it never does.

All it ends in is you cumming on his face one too many times and him walking out of the room without saying a word in pure humiliation.

You don’t take it to heart, you know he beats himself up for it, saying he isn’t good enough, that you should find someone who can actually give you what you want and keep up with you at that. Every time you reassure him, that he does satisfy you, that he never fails to make you feel good regardless of how he does it, but it seems to go in one ear and out the other.

But tonight, tonight is different and you will find a way to fuck your man.