Did i ask you this already?
141 with a "fuck it" "screw it" type moment. Where the character control just snaps and generally leads to a spicy moment?
Even if you had asked already, I'd still do it for you! I had so much fun with this one! I went with AUs for each of them to add a little extra to it. We have longing and yearning, flirting, hate sex, and so much more. Thank you so much for sending this in!!!
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Female Reader
Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, arranged marriage, secret relationship, unprotected piv, breeding, creampie, dubcon (Ghost), oral sex, knight!gaz, bodyguard!soap, hitman!ghost, mafia au, spanking
Word Count: 3.5k
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
“There’s no way out of this marriage, love.”
“I’m aware,” you sneer, mood sour.
John Price casually shrugs, observing your new accommodations. “Might as well do with it what we can.”
You shove at your husband, the leader of the rival family. The one that’s been in feud with yours for decades, working through several generations. It’s not that John Price isn’t handsome. That he’s brutish and mean. He’s a blood-drenched bastard but now he’s yours.
Not that you want him. Not that you love him.
John eases out of his formal jacket, tossing it over the nearby chair, completely ignoring your physical outburst. “They’ll want us to consummate.”
“I’m aware,” you growl.
He glances over his shoulder at you. “You know they’re at the door.”
“I’m aware of that, too,” you snarl, your irritation growing. “You don’t need to remind me.”
John loosens his tie and begins to unbutton his white, long-sleeved shirt. You pretend that you don’t care, but you watch anyway as his thick, muscled chest and stomach are slowly revealed. John is covered in the perfect amount of hair on his chest. As it descends, it narrows and thickens at his belly button, disappearing beneath the hem of his pants.
“We should have it off. Do what needs to be done.”
“Very romantic,” you mutter.
“Don’t think I can make you come?” John’s tone is teasing. He’s eating this shit up.
“Based on how many women you’ve fucked, that seems unlikely,” you reply, removing pins and hair decorations, placing them on the nearby dresser.
“Allow me,” says John.
Before you can protest, he’s at your side, removing all the work that took hours just this morning. He dissolves it all in minutes and then his fingers glide down, tracing over your shoulders where the dress doesn’t cover. You shiver, and John bends forward, his head nuzzling the side of your head. He inhales deeply, his hand that rests on your shoulder moving around to the front, grasping your neck.
“We can pretend,” you gasp, already knowing that you’re going to take his dick, to be with him as a husband and wife should.
“You think that’s all it takes? That it will fool them?”
“Why not?”
John turns you around, peering into your eyes. “Did you not read the fucking contract?”
“I read most of it.” John chuckles, then laughs harder. You frown. “What?”
“In our marriage contract, it said that the consummation would be checked the following morning.”
“It—what?”
“The head woman in my family,” he points at himself, “and yours,” and then at you, “is going to come in here, have you spread your legs, and check that I’ve…”
You step back. “What the fuck.”
A wickedly devious smile spreads across his face. “Can’t believe you didn’t object to that one tiny detail.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
John has you in his arms and on the bed in seconds. He kisses you, taking what he wants, and while you have a moment of resistance, you accept it, feeding into his desire as much as you’re feeding into your own.
“You want this,” he says between kisses.
“Shut up.”
John leans back, gaze flowing over your dress. “Fuck it,” he growls, flipping you onto your stomach.
It takes two quick tugs and he’s ripped the back open, buttons popping and shooting across the room. Beneath, you’re not wearing a bra since the dress has one built into it. The only thing you do wear is a pair of white lace panties. The dress is yanked away, leaving you in the underwear and heels. Another tug, and the panties disappear with a rip.
Shock takes you first, body limp and pliant as John eases your hips up and spreads your legs to reveal your pussy to him. “Goddamn,” he breathes. “This is the pussy I have for the rest of my life? Been fucking blessed, haven’t I?”
The praise goes straight to your head and down to your clit. John places both hands on your ass, one cheek in each hand. He squeezes. Slaps. Smarting the skin until it stings and your pussy aches and clit throbs.
“A good spanking and you’re already wet. Fucking hell.”
John eases you up the bed, bringing your knees to the edge, forcing them even wider. Keeping one hand on your ass, John plays with your pussy, gentling gliding his fingers over your sex, spreading your labia, lightly toying with your clit until you’re whimpering. All you’re able to do is glance back at him, just a shift of your head that hurts your neck. He licks his fingers clean, and then undoes his belt, removing it before opening his fly. He works his pants down until they’re at his knees. You nearly gasp at the size of him.
“Let’s fulfill that contract, yeah?”
John isn’t gentle. He brings the head of his cock to your cunt and thrusts forward, going to the hilt. You cry out, surprised by the stretch, only for that surprised yelp to become moans as he beings to thrust, his size the perfect fucking fit.
“Shit,” he mutters, breath catching. “Not gonna last.”
You smile as your toes curl. John’s fingers dig into your hips and ass, roughly bouncing you on his cock. Each exhalation of his is a burst of air, and then he’s growling, holding your hips flush against his own, coming inside you. Your pussy clenches around him, milking every fucking drop.
This man might be your enemy, but knowing that your pussy has control over him is sweet. Even though you don’t orgasm this time, it likely won’t matter. This man plans to take you all night in an effort to fulfill the marriage contract.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Through the slits in the stone, a storm rages.
Rain patters against the castle walls, the sound echoing off the tight enclosure of the South Tower’s spiral staircase. Lightning flashes, followed by a thunderous boom that startles your quickened ascent. Escape is not possible, and yet you try, fleeing upwards toward the top of the tower with the hope that no one will follow.
How foolish an idea.
“My lady! Wait!”
Sir Kyle Garrick, your lord father’s favorite and most trusted knight—and your secret lover—follows. His hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you to a halt. The stone steps beneath your feet are small and uneven. The force of his tug throws you off-balance, bringing you around to face him in a swirl of panic.
But your knight is always there. Always ready to rescue you.
“Why do you flee from me?” There is distress in his voice and it pains you.
“Not here,” you breathe, desperation dripping from your voice. “We’ll be caught.”
With his other hand, Kyle gently cradles your cheek. “No one will find us here. No one comes up these stairs. We have time. Just talk to me.”
His nearness is a siren, drawing you in without thought or feeling. It’s made worse that his helmet is off, tucked tightly under his arm, and not something he’s allowed to remove while on duty unless specifically ordered by a superior. It’s forbidden, and yet for you, he’s revealed himself. Put himself at possible risk of punishment. Worse, he’s touching your bare skin.
You are his lord’s daughter. You are off-limits. A forbidden fruit promised to another.
Just today the priests came to check your virginity. Intact, they said. Your betrothed’s family were pleased. There will not be another check. Your virginity has been confirmed and the marriage is just two weeks away. It hurts knowing that the one your heart yearns for is right here, wanting to know why you won’t speak to him. It’s better this way, to separate yourself from him, to create space since space will be infinite now.
“We cannot meet anymore,” you whisper. “I’m to be married.”
Kyle places his helmet on the step three above you only to cradle your face with both hands. “How does that matter?”
“It’s a sin,” you hiss.
Kyle’s brow softens and his gaze drops to your lips. “Have we not already been in sin?”
Shame radiates up your spine and ensnares your stomach. He’s far from wrong.
“Yes. But—”
Kyle closes the distance, kissing you with such softness you melt into him, hands grasping at his armor for leverage. You’re bent back, submitting completely as he takes what has always been his. It’s a sickness that won’t leave. Sticky like honey. Stuck between incisors.
When he draws back, allows you a breath, you vocalize what has you panicked. “I don’t want to have his baby,” you admit. “I want to have yours.”
The softness in his features shift to possessive lust. Grasping your hips, Kyle spins you around, guiding your hands to the stone wall. Dropping to his knees, Kyle roughly lifts your abundance of skirts, bunching them up around your hips, revealing your bare buttocks. The cool air kisses your skin. Makes you shiver.
Anyone could stroll up these stairs and find the two of you. But you don’t entirely care at the moment unlike you did before. Your reputation would be ruined and father would surely send you to a convent and throw Kyle out on his ass. But he could still come for you, take you away to start a new life together.
And if you’re not caught, you’ll be married off to a stranger, forced to lay on your back for him, and pop out children you don’t want. Not with your betrothed, anyway. Two weeks and you might be separated from Kyle forever.
“Then you will have mine,” growls Kyle before burying his face between your legs.
You have to shove the sleeve of your dress into your mouth to cover up your cry as Kyle’s tongue licks at your cunt. His hands tightly grip your hips, leaving divots where his fingers dig in. The first time he did this, the two of you were in the garden, hiding amongst the hedges. The risk of being caught is just as tempting as it was then.
Kyle’s tongue finds the sensitive point you touch in the dark, teasing it until your legs quiver, thigh muscles tightening, wanting to close and drive him out. But they cannot. Not while Kyle has his face buried between them and his grip seizes all movement. Kyle pulls back, teasing your cunt with the tip of his tongue, sliding it back to the spot he’s tasted so many times before.
He suckles until you sense that familiar rise, your pleasure devolving into a body-shaking ordeal that leaves your nails scraping against the stone, your cry of release muffled by the fabric in your mouth. Kyle unburies his face from between your legs. Metal softly clinks. Rattles. Leather smacks.
His voice at your ear startles you from your lusty haze. “I will come to you tonight. Through that small, secret passage behind the mural. Mount you until my seeds runs dry. Every night until your wedding. I’ll put my child in your womb.” His lips brush the curve of your ear. “And where your new husband takes you, I’ll be sure to follow. And it’s time for you to give him another, it’ll be me who will have you first.”
Kyle positions himself behind you, adjusting your hips with his hands. There is pressure, and you whimper as he sinks in. The size of him, the stretch, is unfathomable. You’ve never experienced this before, but you love how full you feel. That it is Sir Kyle Garrick inside you and not your fiancée.
“Have I hurt you, my lady?” he asks soft tenderness.
You shake your head. “No.” And then, “please. Please don’t stop.”
Burying his face against your throat, he grinds his hips upwards. It only intensifies the sensation. Your limbs become jelly as he thrusts in earnest, grunt with each snap of his hips. You reach behind you in desperation, grabbing his hip, urging him on with a squeeze. You never want to let him go. Never want him to leave.
Your breathy moans echo against the stairs but you pay it little mind. Part of you hopes someone will ascend and find the two of you locked together, witness Kyle’s cock thrusting in and out of your cunt. You’d be forsaken by your family but you’d be able to leave with Kyle.
“Hold still, my love,” he groans, and you relax against him as he moans his release.
The warm rush of his seed fills you and happiness stirs within your chest. The rest of your life need not be miserable, not when Kyle will be with you, and all the children you birth for your husband will be his.
Silence lingers, the two of you simply breathing, pressed in close, and Kyle still inside you, softening. He gently draws back, the loss of him an ache. Hands set your skirts to rights. Touch your hair. Skim over your body checking for anything askew or torn.
It’s his fingers on your chin that draw you around to face him.
“Tonight,” he breathes. “I’ll come tonight.”
John "Soap" MacTavish
“Daddy’s just downstairs.”
Johnny toys with a wayward thread. “Do you care?”
“No,” you breathe.
“Then show me how much you want me.”
You drop to your knees, revealing his cock. You don’t tease, you swallow Johnny down, throating him so far that you momentarily choke, gag-reflex kicking in.
“Oh, lass,” he groans. “Hells.”
Fisting the base, you bob your head up and down his length. Saliva pools, leaking out from around his dick, dripping onto your chin.
“If only your daddy could see you now. On your knees. Taking my cock. What would he think of his precious girl?”
You whimper around him, pulling back and suctioning the head, tongue lapping over the slit. Johnny hisses, hips thrusting forward slightly, breaking that suction. Johnny fists the hair at the top of your head. It’s a hard grip, a way to keep you stagnant. And then he’s fucking your mouth. You keep your throat relaxed, mouth wide, as Johnny fucks your mouth, lips hitting his pelvis every time he thrusts forward.
He does it until you gag. Until tears come from your eyes and trickle onto your cheeks. Using that grip on your hair, Johnny pulls you off him. Turning, he swipes his arm across your father’s desk, knocking everything to the ground. He sits on top of the wood, leaning back until he’s flat, cock pointed toward the ceiling.
“Get up here, lass.”
You eagerly crawl up onto the desk, going to straddle him. Johnny clucks his tongue. “Turn around.” Your do as he says, facing away from him. “Bend forward.” You place your hands on his shins, arching your back and popping your hips. Johnny shoves your dress up and pulls your thong to the side.
“Bounce on my fucking cock, love,” he drawls, guiding you down on him.
Angling your knees a bit wider, and sitting up slightly for a better position, you keep your hands on his shins, popping your hips, bringing yourself up and down. Johnny isn’t still. He’s hands are on your waist, using it as his own leverage to thrust up into you when you come down.
“Imagine what your father would think. If he found us like this. Walked right into this room. How do you think he’d feel to know his perfect, eldest daughter is allowing his favorite bodyguard to breed her.”
Your answer is a moan.
“Fucking me without a condom when you know you’re not on birth control.” He tuts. “Dangerous.”
You don’t care. You don’t care. You don’t care. You don’t care.
You keep up the pace even when your thigh muscles ache. Johnny is all grunts behind you. The sharp, wet slap of skin meeting skin fills the room. A party is raging downstairs and here you are, getting railed by your father’s bodyguard.
“Come here,” he growls.
Johnny’s arms slide under your thighs. You’re knocked backward, landing on his chest. Johnny’s hands keep your legs bent and open. You lift your head and watch as Johnny pounds into you, his balls swinging with each thrust.
“Want to feel you come around me,” growls Johnny in your ear.
You obediently comply, fingers circling your clit, gliding easily with the mix of your arousal and his precum.
“Fuck. That’s it. That’s it,” groans Johnny.
Your orgasms crests just as his fingers dig into your thighs. He thrusts up, and you watch as your pussy takes all of him, how his balls draw upward with the exploring warmth of his release filling you. You keep touching yourself, the orgasm intensifying when you watch his cum start to leak out and drip onto his balls. Johnny does not part from you. Instead, he shifts the two of you up into a seated position on your father’s desk, his cock still buried inside you.
“Someone will come looking for me soon,” you reply.
Johnny reaches between your legs, circling your clit. You gasp, hips jerking. “You’re staying right here.”
“Johnny. Johnny I can’t.”
Johnny shifts the two of you around. He eases you off his cock. You land on your feet, legs wobbling as his cum dribbles down your leg. Johnny hops off the desk, plops down into your father’s chair. He turns you around, places your hands firmly on the table, keeping your legs wide. He rolls the chair forward enough that you’re able to sit in his lap and on his cock, feet on the floor.
“Stay still, lass. Not done with this sweet cunt yet.”
Simon "Ghost" Riley
“You should be mad,” you state flatly, confused by Ghost’s nonchalance. “Why aren’t you mad?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Why should I be?”
“I fucking kidnapped you.”
“That’s a rare achievement. Few have.”
You begin count on your fingers.
“We had the same target. The same hit. I took it from you. Stole it right out from under you. And you’re not mad?”
Ghost inclines his head. “Oh, I’m fucking peeved, hen. But I’m more impressed that you knocked me out, dragged my ass here, and managed to nab my hit.” He gives you clipped applause.
“You…you’re what?”
Ghost leans back against the wall, his gaze smoldering. “Want to fuck?”
“Excuse me?”
His gaze blatantly roaming up and down your body. “You could also sit on my face.”
You roll your eyes. “I think I preferred you knocked out.”
“Sitting on my face could do that.”
“You’re a pig.”
“What?” he chuckles. “Don’t tell you haven’t thought about it.”
“About what?” you snap. “Sitting on your face?”
With his hands bound in front of him, Ghost extends them into an open palm. “About us.”
You stride forward, bending down to get close to his face. “There is no us. We are two people working in the same field which is not only illegal, but very very small.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “I’m interested, dove.”
“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, jerking backward. “This is a ploy. You just want to torture the information out of me. Find out where the money is. I’m not falling for that.”
Ghost remains unmoved, that smile of his become lustful. Even his face relaxes, replaced with an intensive desire. “Come over here and find out,” he purrs.
“No.”
“Just a taste then.”
“We’re not fucking.”
“You know you want—”
“Fucking fine.”
Ghost slides down the wall until he’s nearly flat on his back, all smugness. You stomp over, shoving your pants down around your ankles, kneeling over his face. Ghost is already connecting before you even have a chance to sit fully on him.
You hold back a whimper as his tongue slides over your sex. You’re unprepared at the attention he lavishes on you, uncomplaining that his hands are bound, simply tasting and not asking for more. Ghost’s hands remain in his lap as you ride his face. You’ve worked really fucking hard today, and so what if this man is your competitor? It’s a reward for grabbing the hit yourself, and pulling the rug out from under him.
Ghost continues to lick and suck and kiss, bringing you closer to orgasm. It’s a rising wave. A crest. A crash. Everything explodes, and that’s when he moves.
Ghost’s hands are free. Impossible.
Grasping you at your waist, Ghost flips you onto your back, pining you beneath him. You don’t even get a breath out before he drives his cock inside you, roughly grasping your wrists to hold them above your head.
Every thrust is rough and aching. But you’re stuck, and all your training can’t get you out of this.
“Tell me where the money is,” grunts Ghost. “Or I’ll come inside you.”
