#kyle gaz garrick fanfiction

[leyavo]

Hello!! I hope you're having a nice day!! I absolutely LOVE your writing!! I was wondering if you would be able to write about a sickly!reader? I'm chronically ill and have been since birth and I can never find representation for us frail bony besties. Could you either do general headcanons (platonic pls) or like dad!price with sickly!reader?

Hey thank you (🤕 anon) for the kind words. Sorry for the long wait. (I included some chronic illnesses that I am familiar with and know people that have them, but all illnesses are different for each person and not the same) I hope you have a nice day too!! 🥹 I did your request with Dad!Price.

[Main masterlist]

TF141 x Chronically ill!reader (platonic)

John Price x Daughter!reader:

You’d over done it yesterday, pushed yourself to do all your errands in one day and you were reaping the consequences of it today. The weight of your limbs not lifting as they kept you in bed. So sore that you could feel the ache deep into your bones.

The house silent, nothing but the warm summer breeze pushing the veiled curtains at the bottom of your bed. You don't want to move, cant stomach the searing pain of sitting up, so you give in to the fact you'll be doing nothing. The remote control left beside the tv, too far for you to reach.

A soft knock taps on your closed door and you mumble for them to come in. You Dad's head creeping in through the small opening, "bad day, kiddo?"

You nod, regretting the action. You’d clenched your jaw last night to counteract the pain and now your whole face hurt this morning. He walks in, picking the remote up as he passes it and drops it into your lap, gently.

"On a scale of one to ten?" He says, large hand slipping behind your shoulders as he helps you lean against the three well positioned pillows against the headboard. His gaze locked on yours, as if telling you not to downplay the pain.

"Eight," you mumbled, trying not to focus on the aching stabs surging through your hips as you sat up. It’s better than laying down though, least your hair won’t get too greasy or knotty.

"I feel sick.”

He glances to the bedside table, the packet of medication scattered the surface, the leaflet half tucked under the bed. The glass half empty, sitting on top of a bit of water you'd spilt when you tried to put it back on the table. "That's because ya' took your meds on an empty stomach," he said, no doubt having counted the strip of pills.

"I'm in too much pain to eat." Your words slurred as you spoke, eyes heavy as you tried to fight the drowsiness of the pills. That and the sleepless night you had, not able to find a comfortable position to lay in.

"I know, I know," he says, hand pawing the hair out of your face. "Why don't I make you some honey porridge? You'll feel a bit better and the meds will kick in soon." You’re favourite and something easy to eat, nothing too chewy either. Plus it was your favourite, you ate it for breakfast and lunch nearly everyday as a two year old. He leans down, kissing your forehead before he leaves you to search the tv guide as you wait.

He returns with a tray, two bowls and a few snacks scattered around them. You can smell the honey as soon as he walks in, thankful that he’d checked on you before going to work.

“You’re uh, staying?” You asked as he peels the blanket back and joins you in the bed, his large frame hanging off the edge a little but he didn’t complain.

“Yeah, paperwork I can do later here.” He shrugs, placing the tray on your lap and taking a bowl of cereal for him self, it balances in his palm as he flicks through the tv. “You wanna watch that new movie?”

Of course you do, you’ve been on at him to watch the third one of the trilogy you both like. Waiting, because you know he’ll want to see your reaction and you his. Gives you something to talk about, theories to create whilst you wait for the next instalment or spinoff.

It’s over two hours long though, the porridge warming your aching stomach. You both talk back and forth about the characters, but you can’t fight the heavy weight pulling on your eyelids. You’re gone before you realise it, head on your dad’s shoulder and sleeping.

When you wake up, your dad’s snoring beside you. The end credits still rolling, your meds have kicked in, but you’re still in for a rough few days maybe even weeks. But you’re glad your dad’s there to help. You’re sure he’ll stay home until you’re walking about the house.

Simon Riley x Childhood friend!reader with multiple sclerosis:

You don't know why you let Simon pick the pub, the dingy place reminding you to wipe your boots on the way out. The worn carpet looked like it had been excavated for fossils, lumps here and there, crosses of gaffa tape holding torn parts together.

Simon's hand hovers over the small of your back, head dipped as he mumbles for you to watch your step. One drink, obviously something soft and not alcoholic. All you wanted to do was play a few games of darts like you used to every time Simon returned home. A little tradition you'd cancelled on the last three times due to a flare up.

Not that Simon minded, no he'd spent the night at your flat and watched a whole season of a tv show with you.

You were feeling good, made sure you hadn't done much the past few days in hopes it would conserve your energy and not trigger anything.

Simon guides you to the booth in the back, right next to the dart board. He waits for you to sit back in the leather seat and set your walking stick to the side before he leaves to get the drinks in.

An ice cold vanilla and lemonade float slides on the table in front of you. "Ready to lose, mate?" he says, taking a gulp of his beer and setting it on the table.

You let the melted ice cream over flow the glass, scooping a lump into your mouth with the chunky straw. "Don't cry when I win, Si." you pat his shoulder, hand wrapping around the darts he hands you.

The evening's filled with laughter, the odd teasing and nudging when you so accidentally elbow him. "Oh you wanna play dirty eh."

It doesn't last long though as you go to grab your glass, the tremor in your hand stopping you from tightening your grip. The glass drops, shattering to the floor. Your vision blurring as you tried to focus on your twitching fingers instead of the surge of pain shooting down to your wrist.

The cool drink splashing on your trousers, but you just stare at mess. Simon's already crouching down and mopping it up, taking the brush from the bar maid and sweeping it off your boots.

"Come on," Simon said, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Lets go get a kebab on the way home." He gently guides your walking stick into your hand and walks with you out of the pub. He’s a grounding presence for you to hold on to, not just in the physical sense but in every other too. He’s quick to think, act and make you feel like you’re not at a total loss. A scrap of normality thrown in as he talks about the flickering light that still hasn’t been fixed outside the kebab shop. How many years is tha’ now?

You're quiet as he queues up to order, the plastic chair on the side of the street digging into legs. The dull tingling in your hand has now spread up your arm and its hard trying to ignore it.

Simon doesn't say much as you both eat your food, his gaze flitting to you every now and then as you drop your wrap between each bite. Brown eyes assessing you for any knowing tells. He was covered in grazes and bruises and still made time for you.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "none of tha, you ain't apologising. Don't look at me like tha," he said, voice rough as he stared you down. You'd known each other long enough to not beat around the bush and say what you thought. You used to apologise for the smallest things, even for stuff you shouldn't. Simon always the one to tell you that you didn't need to.

"It's good to see you," you say, chucking a slice of pickle at him.

"Any excuse to get out of losing," he said, dodging the pickle and it landed on his shoulder, slipping down his leather jacket. “Let’s get you home, dying for a cuppa.”

Simon’s good at taking your mind off things and reminding you not to be too hard on yourself. Always there to listen if you need to get something off your chest.

Johnny MacTavish x sister!reader with a pacemaker:

“Johnny, you really didn’t have to take leave from work,” you grumbled, huffing as he gently took the milk carton out of your hands. “I can lift a bloody…”

The skin across your collarbone tightening as you turned to shut the fridge door. You squeezed your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip trying to muffle a sob. The incision in your chest ached, the pacemaker underneath your flesh heavy on your left.

“You want mam to be looking after ya?” He said, palm smoothing your back. “Six weeks is nothing, compared to the months of rehab you helped me through after I got shot.” He says it like he’s repaying a debt, but you don’t call him out on it. Always the one to pay it back without a reminder. Not that you’d call it in.

You shook your head, knowing your younger brother was less suffocating than your own mother. There’s dishes of homemade food filling the freezer already, no doubt Johnny will go through them in a week the amount he eats.

“Shoot me now,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Aye, don't carry weapons at home." Johnny chuckles, guiding you to the living room and nudging his head for you to sit on the sofa. You laid down, letting him drape a blanket over your lap and turn on your favourite show on the tv.

Your gaze trailed after Johnny each time he came in the house. A basket of dried clothes leaning on his hip. He dropped it to the floor and sunk into the armchair next to you, his hands diving in the basket as he plucked out a shirt and folded it. He bent, down and hesitated, brows scrunching as he pushed something aside. You leant forward and groaned, the tight pull making you fall back against the cushions.

"Don' worry, I'm not going to touch ya' underwear. Might need to burn me eyes out.." he said, elbowing the stack of clothes off his knee. "I'll take ya' washing to Mam's." He picks them up and dumps them back in the basket, straightening them out so their half folded again.

"I can do my own washing Johnny." You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Johnny had surprisingly picked you up from the hospital after the pacemaker had been fitted, your mother neglecting to tell you that he'd offered himself up to help you and live at your house for the next six weeks.

"Ya not supposed to be lifting your arm or carrying stuff."

You lift your left arm slightly, middle finger raising. "Look at tha' I think I'm just fine."

Johnny chuckles, shaking his head. “Why don’ we go for a walk?”

You frown as he picks up your car keys from the hook on the wall, a knowing look of him scolding you for letting everyone see it. Stuff like that should be stored away.

He drives to the nearest loch, knowing that you like to walk the Munro there, but you’re capable of that yet so you walk down to the pebbly loch. He skims some rocks across the water, talking with you and asking you what he’s missed since he’s been gone.

The air is clear and you breathe it in, chest shuddering but it’s not too bad. Johnny starts to take you for daily walks, a nice way for you to both get out of the stuffy house and talk. You talk about a lot, stuff you’ve never before and you’re glad Johnny took the time to come home. To come help you.

The days turn the weeks and you’re finally walking the sloping hills with Johnny. Just like you did as kids, he’s even got his camera and taking pictures at the top. Something he used to do before he joined the military.

And when the six weeks are up, you don’t want to say a goodbye. Even Johnny lingers in the doorway, his arms wrapping around you as his chin rests on your shoulder.

You stare at your clothes and Johnny's military folding in the drawer. The scribbled mess of his handwriting telling you what’s in the lunchboxes of the freezer. He’d done so much for you and you knew he would anyways.

Kyle Garrick x brother!reader with arthritis:

You could always count on Kyle to give you a lift to the hospital. He waits in the doctors office, your jacket draped over his crossed arms in his lap.

Every three months, Kyle made sure that you’d have someone to take you and if there wasn’t anyone available he made sure he was there for you. Most times it was Kyle though, ready to take the whole day and spend it with you, even if you were pencilled in for the morning or evening.

He smiles, waiting for you to shrug your jacket back on. You regularly get steroid injections in your spine for your arthritis, the only way to ease the pain. Sure it took a couple days to really feel a difference, but it was worth the quick stab in order to feel the weight lifted off your back.

The first few hours you feel the pulsing heat at the base of your spine and it tingles up and down your back. Kyle doesn’t rush you as you walk back to the car park, he refuses your handful of change as he taps his card for the parking fees.

“Don’t worry mate,” he says, shoving his card back in his wallet. “You wanna pick up some food before we go back to yours, there’s a good Thai place I heard about,” he says, swiping his phone unlocked and showing you the saved tab of the menu. Always prepared.

You never say no to food, you’d both tried out a load of different restaurants each time and it had come sort of tradition to order a large amount of food. Eat it for lunch and dinner whilst catching up, sometimes breakfast the next day too.

“Yeah, why don’t we get one of the fixed meal options?” You say, lips tugging as Kyle slows down and falls in step beside you. He’s observant matching your energy, making sure you don’t feel too rushed.

Maybe it’s the way you lean forward slightly that gives the aches away or the sharp intake of air each time your shoes hit the uneven pavement.

“You alright mate?” Kyle always notices.

He opens your door for you and lets you settle in the seat comfortably before he gently closes it. He rounds the front of the car and slides into the drivers seat. He’s careful as he drives, making sure it’s a smooth ride and tries his best to dodge the potholes in the road for your sake and the tyres.

You’ve already ordered your food, Kyle picking it up and dropping it into your lap as he returns. The tender skin where you got the injection burns, no doubt bruised already. You're just hoping you start feeling the benefits soon and can get on with all the little things again.

Thankfully the lift up to your flat is working again, so you don’t have to drag yourself up the stairs. Your limbs start to feel heavy, but you’re close to your front door so push on.

Kyle’s one step ahead, plastic bags straining in his grasp as he twists your key in the lock. The door opening as soon as you catch up with him.

“I got it, why don’t you find a movie while I sort the food.” He’s already taking the plates out the cupboard, knives and forks clinking together.

The afternoon is spent catching up, mindlessly flicking through the streaming services for something decent, but you end watching the football once it kicks off. A crate of alcohol free beer dwindling to nothing, Kyle's good at taking your mind off the pain. Always there to make you laugh, but not too hard that your whole body shakes.

Kyle's a storyteller, so he describes his latest op, leaving out sensitive information with the word classified and his pointer and middle finger making bunny ears as he quotes it "classified." You can picture it like a movie in your head, that you miss an own goal on the tv. You're convinced he exaggerates on some parts, anything to get you questioning whatever craziness he's spewing.

"Nah, how can you fall out a helicopter and still be alive mate? You're havin me on." You shake your head, "What you were just hanging? Nah."

[secretlovezz]

----------♡

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the type of boyfriend who activates your cuteness aggression.

He doesn't even have to be doing anything particularly cute or attractive it's just because it's him and that's normal, right?

It's totally normal to want to squeeze your boyfriend into a rib-breaking hug while he takes time out of his day to cook a lovely dinner for the two of you and it's totally normal to have the urge to squish his face in between your hands as he watches a game on the TV unaware of your stare... right?

Your hands fidget and squeeze at your clothes often in an attempt to not bother him; your knee starts to bounce and just as Kyle turns to you about to ask what's wrong your hands, a little roughly, slap against his cheeks just like you were previously thinking about and squish.

His brows wrinkled with confusion but he huffs out a laugh anyway and lets you get whatever is going on out of your system.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (2 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, canon-typical swearing, Kyle is a girl dad

Word Count: 935

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

An evening of peace is interrupted when Kyle has to answer questions about what he does for a living.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Peace is shattered.

It always is when you have a kid.

It’s not just scraped knees or melted ice cream splattered on the pavement. Sometimes, peace is shattered because your child is a feral goblin who decides disturbing your sleep is the perfectly logical thing to do.

Wearing a pink onesie, standing in the bedroom doorway with her little fist raised and clutching a thin piece of paper, you and Kyle’s six-year-old daughter is ominously backlit by the hallway light. Kyle blinks, a little stunned by the sight before him. You shift beside him, one hand reaching out to him, murmuring his name.

There are a few seconds between her sudden appearance and the leap onto the bed. She spider-crawls like a thing out of a horror movie.

“Bloody hell,” groans Kyle, pinching the bridge of his nose as his daughter perches like a gargoyle next to him.

“Daddy,” she whispers.

You are already awake, turning over onto your back with squinted eyes as you’re blasted by the bright light of the hallway.

Before you can even speak, Kyle is shaking his head, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got this,” he groans, sitting up to turn on the bedside light. You glance at your daughter before returning to your original position.

Kyle rests his forearms on his bent knees, staring at his daughter who gazes at him with a peppy eagerness like she’s just eaten a cake heavily coated in icing. She shouldn’t have this much energy at this late hour.

“Go to bed,” says Kyle. “It’s past bedtime.”

She clutches the thin piece of paper. “I wanted to show you earlier.”

While Kyle is typically indulgent when it comes to her, he’s not feeling that way at the moment. He only wants to sleep.

“It’s late, bug,” he replies. “Tomorrow.”

She shakes her head, her tight curls bouncing slightly. “I didn’t know what to put here. You don’t talk about your job.” She points to a spot on the paper, and Kyle frowns as he peers closer.

Fuck.

It’s one of those questionaries where the child answers all these questions about themselves, and several pertain to her parents and what they do. She has left that entire section blank. Kyle understands that schools do this so that the students can build identity in their community while also making connections with classmates.

But she’s right. Kyle doesn’t talk about his job. At least not with her. You, his wife, are an entirely different story. You, the one who has been through nearly all of it, is the only person who truly knows everything. His daughter is far too young to know specifics or to fully comprehend the sheer violence of his work.

“You’re right, love. I don’t.”

“Why?” she asks automatically.

This is not a conversation he wants to be having. She needs to be in bed, and Kyle should be asleep and spooning you before he has to take this feral fiend of a daughter to school in the morning.

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over his face. “Where is this coming from?”

Her face falls slightly, and then becomes steel. “I want to be like you,” she says. “I want to grow up and be strong.”

No, babygirl. No. You don’t want to be like me.

You stir beside him, shifting like you’re about to turn and join the conversation. But Kyle knows you need your rest, and this isn’t the sort of conversation he desires to have this late at night.

That hardness melts away, and Kyle’s heart fractures slightly. She’s so small and yet so determined. Her little fist clutching the paper shakes slightly as if asking him is taking all her strength.

“Give me the paper.” Her smile widens as she hands it over. “And go turn off the hall light.” She groans loudly and Kyle shushes her as she throws herself off the bed and drags herself to the hall.

The light flicks off, and then she’s rushing back to him. He pats the side of the bed, and she crawls in, curling up next to him as he grabs the book off his bedside table.

“Pencil?” he asks, and she whips one out, her smile wide.

Kyle snorts and snags it, twirling it end-over-end as he tries to formulate an answer to the questions. Some of that gentle humor slips away, falling into memory, all the lead and blood and carnage comes back, roaring in his ears.

He takes a deep breath, silencing it all.

Graphite touches paper, and Kyle begins jotting down answers to all the things his daughter didn’t answer. She rests her head against his shoulder, watching the pencil scratch across the paper.

When he’s done, he presents the paper, and his daughter takes it reverently, as if all the secrets she doesn’t have are now suddenly before her. She does not take the pencil as she slips off the bed and starts to sprint for the door. She comes to a halt and turns on her heel, running back to him.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says a little too loud before kissing his cheek and heading out into the hall.

The bed shifts, and Kyle turns to look at you as you twist to face him.

“What did you write?” you murmur.

Kyle sighs and shuts off the bedside light. He snuggles in, and you reach for him in the dark. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you close, inhaling your scent, allowing his mind to drift toward dreaming.

“A nice truth,” replies Kyle softly just before he slips into sleep.

[cowboyshadows]

Knight!Gaz/Princess!Reader PWP inspired by that one scene in Lady Chatterley's Lover

CW: explicit unprotected sex, light degradation and humiliation, public sex (in an empty forest). Nsfw MDNI

Your knight finds you. Of course he does.

He comes in, riding his favourite horse—Briony. A beautiful, cream-coloured purebred sired by a racing champion. It had been your gift to him, a way to show him that he was more than just a knight guarding his princess.

It's just him. The usual retinue that hangs behind him is absent. He dismounts gracefully on the hard, grassy forest floor, taking the horse to stand next to yours.

“What is it this time, my lady?” Exasperated that you’ve run off yet again. His helm comes off rather unceremoniously in a rare display of trust, dark and damp curls clinging to his sweat-sheened temple.

There’s a tired expression on his beautiful, dark face—a charming smile threatening to sneak past the polished facade.

You shrug, walking towards him. “He looked at me wrong.”

The smile bursts through, punctuated by a decadent chuckle that puts a dimple in his cheek. “Incorrigible, princess. You’re incorrigible.”

You smile fondly. “Perhaps.” Had it been anyone else, you might have brought it upon yourself to admonish them for the callous addressal. But this was Kyle. Your Kyle.

He tugs his gauntlets off, lustre smudged with dirt and sweat. His fingers flex at the cool air.

He holds his hand out to you. “Allow me to escort you back to the castle grounds, my lady.” His hand is scarred, experienced. A testament to his knighthood. A trophy; a warning.

You give him a coy smile, looking away. “Don’t call me that.”

He knits his brows together in amusement, grip on his helm tightening. “You don’t want to be a lady?”

Shaking your head, you whisper, “not with you.” Embers of something coy and simpering flares behind your eyes, widened as you look up at him.

He inhales deep and sharp, tossing his helm to the side. It tumbles along the dirt with a whisper of crunched leaves. He takes a quick look around the empty forest before walking towards you. “You want me to treat you coarsely, princess?”

He backs you into a tree, an amused huff escaping you when you hit the bark.

“Is that what you want?”

You tilt your head, stringing your lower lip between your teeth.

He takes your jaw in his hands, a tenderness to his touch only reserved for you. He’s used to handling swords, not delicacy—but with you, he’s learnt. His face comes closer to yours then, warm breath fanning over you.

Lips tantalisingly close to yours, brown eyes transfixed in yours. “Your wish is my command,” he whispers, and his hand bunches in your braided hair. It pulls ever so slightly at your scalp, drawing a whimper out of you.

His gaze darkens at the sound, something brutish shifting behind the cage of his duty. A knight is meant to be disciplined, measured, unwavering—but here, in the quiet solitude of the forest, with only you to bear witness, he allows himself to falter.

Your noses brush against each other ever so imperceptibly, his warmth raising gooseflesh in its wake. “You’re improper for nobility, aren’t you?” His voice is rough now, nothing like the teasing lilt from earlier. His fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair, enough to make your breath hitch.

You wet your lips, your pulse thrumming in your throat. “So what if I am,” you whisper, not so much posing it as interrogation. Rather, a challenge.

His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as he exhales through his nose. He’s searching your face, as if waiting for hesitation, for any sign of retreat. But you don’t waver. You never do—not with him.

A slow, indulgent smirk curls at the corner of his lips. “Then you best be willing to face the consequences, my princess.”

Before you can retort, his mouth crashes against yours. There’s nothing gentle about it. It’s all heat and hunger, the kind of kiss that steals the breath from your lungs and leaves you weightless. Careless and reckless. The kind you’re meant to rise above. Alas.

His grip in your hair tightens as he tilts your head back, deepening the kiss, tasting you like he’s been starved for it.

Your hands find purchase against the cool metal of his armour, pressing against the hard ridges of his chest plate. You feel the tension beneath it, the barely restrained power that hums through him. His heart comes alive now, life thrumming from behind his ribs.

When he finally pulls back, you’re breathless, your heart hammering. His forehead rests against yours, his own breathing ragged.

“You always do this to me,” he murmurs, voice low and raw. “Always.” Something familiar crosses his face, softness marring his features just so. Imperceptible.

Your fingers trail down the leather straps of his armour, to the bare skin at the crook of his neck. “Is that a surrender, my knight?”

His chuckle is dark, reverberating deep in his chest. “I never cede, princess.” His thumb traces the edge of your lower lip, his gaze heavy with promise. “Not against something quite so tempting.”

Your chest rises and falls in breaths out of choir, crenulate and shaky. Your fingers trail along his sides, cold of the metal biting and harsh, unfastening the leather straps to his breastplate. They fall with a soft click. He lifts the heavy steel over him in one smooth motion. Beneath, his tunic clings to him—damp with exertion. The outline of the ridges and planes of his muscle are traced by the fabric, each shadow and bump a confession in your books.

He brings his hands to your waist, mouth slotting over yours again. His tongue is warm, wet. It slides over your lips, and his teeth snag at them. In the mesh of your mouths you taste your own iron, drawn from his maw. He groans deep and ragged into you, hands moving lower and grasping at the fabric of your dress.

His knees bend to catch ahold of the hem, pulling it upwards. The draft stings your bare middle, slick and throbbing. Lust snares in the centre of his eyes, dark and all-consuming. The rough pads of his fingers find your folds, unencumbered by garments.

His breath stutters against your ear, damp with sweat, voice hoarse like he’s barely holding himself together. “Princess…”

You let your head rest against the bark with a soft thump, lips falling apart in a silent prayer. Your lashes flutter, useless in truncating the prickle of heat on your skin, and his hand rubs your ambrosia in circles around your nub.

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?”

One finger pushes up inside, curling and hooking against that one devastating spot. Gummy barriers hold him back, and he greets it with deliberate grazes of his finger. You choke on a sound—half moan, half gasp—as your body clenches down hard, trying to pull him deeper.

“Is this why you left your suitor?”

Words get lodged in your throat, knees close to buckling but for his hand. He pushes another finger inside you, the sharp burn soon coalescing with the roughness into unbridled, rampant pleasure.

“For me to fuck you, princess?”

You let out a sharp cry at the intrusion of a third digit, his hand now slamming with abandon against your hilt. Your thighs tremble with the effort of staying upright, and his free hand snakes up your back to crawl around your neck.

He grabs you roughly, swirling you around until your cheek is pressed against the wood of the tree. Dirt streaks your skin, but your sense of propriety’s long been left behind at the castle. The scent of sap and fresh jasmine floods your lungs.

He pulls your head back, and your eyes latch onto his only barely. When he reaches for you, it’s not as a protector. It’s not as a warrior. But as a man starved for the only thing that’s ever undone him. His discipline, the very crux of his knighthood, crumbles under your gaze fractiously.

You hear the faint rustling of fabric behind you, the metallic clinging of his breeches as he undoes his trousers.

His cock drags through your slick folds, heavy and hot, teasing your entrance. The head catches, pressing just enough to make you whimper—a sharp, breathless plea. Your hips stutter backwards, instinct taking over, desperate to impale yourself on him. But he doesn’t give in. He watches you squirm, trembling, before he finally slams inside, forcing a cry from your lips, raw and broken. He lets out a hoarse grunt through gritted teeth, breaths laboured as he ravages you.

He tuts, “So depraved, aren’t you?”

Your sex sounds out in obscene and intoxicating sloshing. White hot shame boils your blood to lava beneath your cheeks, wildfire spreading over the surface of your flesh. He drives into you again, a sharp, claiming thrust, forcing the air from your lungs in a shattered gasp. It escapes you unbidden, as though moored by sheer masculine tenacity.

He groans, his teeth pressing into your shoulder through fabric. The sound rumbles through you, and your fingers curl around the curve of the tree. His boots scuff against dirt with a dull thump, shattered curses falling from his mouth in hisses.

As his hips snap against yours in a low rhythm, you feel the coil of his flesh. Hard, weathered tendon and sinew that’s long since given up comfort for duty. His thrusts burn with an electrifying intensity. Sparks lick up your spine, setting your nerves alight with a hungry fire.

He snarls as he feels you nearing your peak, guiding you to the precipice more and more with each ram. His breathing is heavy, staggered, like a beast tearing into prey. His fingers press white knuckled into your hips, bruising and imprinting.

“Mine,” he utters between gasps and pants, raw and fervent.

“Yours,” you concur, slurring your words in your own daze.

Tension coils deep and tight in your belly, drawing tighter with every breath until at last he brings you to loosen—releasing you into shattering bliss. He fills you with stuttering hips and rasped grunts, pleasure blooming in staccato.

His head rests in the crook of your neck and shoulder, warm breath fanning over your skin. The faint stubble scrapes along. His arms snake around your front, holding you impossibly close.

He doesn’t pull away yet. Instead, his lips find your shoulder, pressing there, as if to claim something more than just your body. His breathing slows, his grip still firm, reluctant.

“Not yet,” you whisper, fingers tightening over his.

His grip on you doesn’t ease. If anything, it tightens. His mouth ghosts along your jaw, warm and damp with exertion.

“Get dressed, princess,” he mutters, voice still raw. It’s an order, yet he stays close to you—as though his body refuses to follow.

A twig snaps in the distance. His head lifts, sharp, instinctual. His fingers flex against your hips before he finally, reluctantly, eases out of you.

“This isn’t over,” he continues.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Main Masterlist

Smut 💦 Angst 😨 Fluff ❤ Violence 🔪 Gore🤢 Medical 💉 Triggering material 🚩

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

The Way the Stars Love the Heavens ❤😨🤢💦Series - completed

A translator's work is never done.

For Your Own Good💦❤

In trying to avoid worrying Simon, you break a rule and he has to deal with it.

Royal Protocol💦❤

Some rules were made to be broken

Phillip Graves

Ask and You Shall Receive❤💦

You want to try something new and Graves is more than happy to oblige.

Lover be Good to Me❤💦

Be as you've always been (lover, be good to me) - Hozier

He's So Pretty ❤💦

Phillip loves eating pussy.

For the Love of Freedom❤💦

Phillip has some very special plans for the 4th of July.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

There's Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby❤💦

Gaz had never been so mesmerised by fabric before.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Movie Screens and Battle Scenes

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick X F!Actress!Reader

After nearly a year of constant questions a little idea popped up into your head, why not have your husband and his friends do an instagram live? You could answer everyone’s burning questions and then go back to keeping your life private. It sounded innocent enough, and Kyle was more than willing to do it, now if you could convince everyone else.

A/N: I want to give a HUGE shoutout to @gaylemonshark for helping fuel this fic idea, you've been a giant help and I'd be lost without you tbh lol warnings:minor language, nothing explicit, Ghost being Ghost

You’d kept your private life, well, private for nearly your entire acting career, choosing not to let people close and have rumors spread like wildfire. You had been in countless films, shows, and interviews with co-stars that always seemed curious. What was there truly to know about you, and why were you so adamant on keeping it secret? Your parents were thankful nothing had come out, save for the few rumors saying you were dating a co-star. It wasn’t until you were wearing a noticeable wedding band that the rumors began to fly even more. Who had you gotten married to? Were they also someone famous or were they in a different line of work?

After nearly a year of constant questions a little idea popped up into your head, why not have your husband and his friends do an instagram live? You could answer everyone’s burning questions and then go back to keeping your life private. It sounded innocent enough, and Kyle was more than willing to do it, now if you could convince everyone else.

________ “You want us to do what?” Price was a little confused on the whole idea, especially when you were married to his comrade.

“Well, people have been asking me for years about my personal life and I’d love for them to see the people that matter most.” It sounded much better in your head, and right now you were beginning to panic.

“I’ll ask Johnny and Ghost, but I can’t guarantee they’ll agree to it.” Price gave you a stern look, you wouldn’t push if the other two weren’t willing.

If anything it would just be you and Kyle on the live answering as many questions as you both could. Sure there was plenty about Kyle’s line of work that he couldn’t legally talk about online, not without getting reprimanded. The two of you had met by complete accident, you’d been shooting a new movie and he happened to walk on set. Security was ready to walk him out until you caught sight of him. You’d convinced them to let him stay for the day, having hours long conversations once you were done shooting for the day.

It was a whirlwind romance from the very beginning, Kyle did everything in his power to romance you when he wasn’t deployed. He’d cook for you often, refusing to let you even lift a finger when he was around. So it was no surprise that six months into your relationship that Kyle popped the question. His hands were shaking as he knelt down onto one knee, holding your hands and asking the words you’d been waiting to hear.

“Will you marry me?”

You had all but thrown yourself into his arms, screaming happily a loud ‘Yes!’. It was everything you’d ever dreamt of, calling your mom immediately after it had happened. Kyle was watching you from afar, nothing but love shining in his eyes as you squealed with the news. He wanted you to meet his teammates and friends before the wedding, especially since he wanted to invite them. Who were you to say no?

Price had pulled you into a hug right away, telling you how often Kyle would boast whenever he was on base. His smiles comforted you like a fathers would, and from that moment on you knew that Kyle was in good hands when he wasn’t home. Ghost, or Simon, was the second to introduce himself. He’d warned you that during missions he tended to wear a mask, mainly to keep his identity a secret from the enemies and to strike fear into them. However when you stood in front of the man you were glad to see he’d forgone it. What Kyle had failed to mention was just how big he was, not just in height but in stature as well.

“Nice to meet you, Kyle’s told me a lot about you.” You smiled softly, shaking his hand gently.

He scoffed before pulling you into a friendly, albeit tight, bear hug. You snuggled into his chest for a brief moment before pulling away from his embrace. He didn’t want you to be afraid of him, he wasn’t a ray of sunshine to most people. And then there was Johnny who didn’t waste a single second before flirting with you. Your cheeks flushed as you giggled, raising your hand to surprise everyone with the news.

“Wait! You’re engaged?” Johnny’s head whipped to where Kyle was talking with Price.

“Oh, that’s why we were coming to see you guys.” Kyle walked over and wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“I believe a congrats is in order.” Price headed over to his desk, pulling out a bottle of what looked like whiskey.

“Don’t have fancy glasses so you lot will have to deal with plastic ones.” He poured out enough for everyone, handing out the cups.

Johnny was the first to cheer, congratulating the two of you on your engagement and a long and happy marriage. You sipped the dark liquor, relishing in the way it burned going down your throat slightly.

“That’s another reason we’re here. Neither of us are doing a wedding party but we wanted to invite you to the wedding.” Neither of you had set a proper date yet, wanting to make sure you’d have time for both the wedding and a short honeymoon.

Johnny was more than overjoyed at the thought of your wedding, getting to relax for a few days with no worries sounded rather nice. What surprised you was how eager even Simon was, he had agreed within seconds of the words slipping past Kyle’s lips. Price was honored that you’d asked him in person, considering Kyle had his home address he felt it was safer to do it in person.

“We have to start planning first, but once we set a date we’ll let you guys know right away.” You leaned your head against Kyle’s shoulder.

Meeting the group of men that helped keep the world safe went better than you’d expected, considering most military men your friends had dated were less than savory characters. And while you knew deep down they had to do bad things to keep people safe, it was simply life. Your parents didn’t know much about Kyle considering you couldn’t very well tell them exactly what he did for work. His parents had welcomed you with open arms, telling you how gorgeous you were and how happy they were. If the news ever broke out about your engagement, or marriage you wouldn’t tell anyone about Kyle.

Well…

“Thank you guys for doing this, if you get uncomfortable I can turn it off and we can have a nice lunch instead.” You were setting up the camera and laptop, making sure everything was clear and visible.

“It’s no problem sweetheart, better to get the world off your ass sooner rather than later.” Of course Price was encouraging this, he’d been there when you called Kyle about it originally.

You scooted the chairs closer, making sure everyone would be in frame while having enough space to relax fully. Simon had all but stolen the bowl of chips from Johnny, cackling as the Scot tried to snag some of the salty goodness.

“Alright boys, we’ll be on live in ten seconds.” You plopped down into your own chair, fingers lacing with Kyle’s as he scooted closer to you.

You watched the timer countdown, signaling that you were live as your fans began to pour into the chat. Most of them were screaming hello and other variations of their own personal greeting. You giggled to yourself and greeted everyone that was currently watching.

“I’m here to introduce you guys to the amazing man that is my husband.” Kyle leaned forward so that he was more in frame for the camera.

The comments began to blow up immediately, most of them saying how attractive he was and asking how you’d met. You let Kyle answer the question of how you’d met, watching how his expression lit up at the chance to talk about you. He didn’t hide a single detail, face flushing as he remembered nearly getting thrown out before you came to his rescue. Simon snickered behind you, laughing louder when Kyle had to admit you were his knight in shining armor. It was a sweet moment for the two of you, but to the normal person it would look quite funny.

“We’ve been married for just over two years, guess you guys aren’t as observant as you think.” It was mainly due to the fact that you would remove your ring, not wanting to put Kyle in the spotlight.

You’d posted only one photo of the two of you from your wedding day, everyone had demanded to know who the mystery man was, but you wanted to keep him to yourself. It took a paparazzi snapping a photo of you for things to come crashing down. If they managed to find you at home, then they’d stop at nothing until they got more photos of you together.

“So unfortunately I can’t tell you too much about my amazing husband, so I’ll answer a few questions about his amazing friends before we head off for the day.” You watched the comments for a good question to pick.

“How did my first meeting with them go? Oh that’s easy, Price was very friendly, and Johnny flirted with me immediately, not even a hello but flirting right away.” You laughed at the guffawed expression on Kyle’s face.

The two men began to bicker, Kyle saying that you were his lady and Johnny needed to find someone else to flirt with.

“That’s just how he is, sees a pretty girl and man’s gotta flirt.” Simon snickered as Johnny rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s my wife you dirty little Scot!” Kyle tried to contain his laughter, truly he did, but he couldn’t be all that surprised. You were gorgeous, of course Soap would flirt with you.

“I din’ know tha’!” Johnny huffed to himself.

“Don’t worry, I took the flirting as a compliment.” You reached over to pat his knee, smiling up at the other man.

Johnny’s once sour expression suddenly turned smug, well if you liked his flirting then clearly he was doing something right.

“Does Johnny flirt with everyone? Yes, yes he absolutely does. I’m sure he flirted with every single new recruit on base.” You rested your hand on Kyle’s knee, relaxing into his side.

“That’s cause he’s a whore.” John, who was taking a sip of his water, spit it out at Simon’s words.

It caused an uproar in the chat and also within the group. Simon couldn’t help but start laughing at John’s reaction. Some of them were worried that John would end up choking on some of the water he’d meant to drink, of course you kept a careful eye on him in between giggles. Johnny looked downright mortified, it was all in good fun though, nothing serious.

“Alright, let’s get a few more questions before my husband and his friends head out for the day.” You turned back towards your laptop, looking for questions that piqued your interest.

The chat was flooded more than usual, comments rushing by before you could properly read them. You managed to get two final questions, saving them on a side page so that you could answer them.

“Are Kyle and I going to ever have children? Well that depends on where we both are in a few years. We’re both still young so rushing into something like that isn’t the best idea.” It was true, you’d discussed having children but with Kyle being deployed at any given moment for long amounts of time, it made you nervous.

“We want them eventually, but I think we’re just enjoying our time together right now.” Kyle pressed a kiss to your cheek, smiling at the way you squirmed.

“Alright the last and final question is, Simon, are you single?” Simon rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, I am, no I do not want to date someone that’s nearly half my age.” You wanted to laugh at his response, he definitely wasn’t wrong about your fanbase, a lot of young girls seemed to follow you.

You wrapped up the live thanking everyone for their questions and promising to post more pictures of you and Kyle when given the chance. You loved your fans, but there were things you didn’t want to make public, such as your husband since these kids were like bloodhounds. They’d find out his name and where he grew up if given the opportunity, and that made you a little nervous.

“Why don’t we take a picture so that we can post it to your instagram?” Kyle was supportive of whatever you posted, as long as it was your decision in the end.

You agreed and set up the phone so that everyone would be in the frame, setting the time before taking your place beside Kyle once more. Everyone put on their best smiles, even Simon who didn’t much like having his photo taken. He was confident in his looks, but knowing millions were about to see his face daily? It was kind of daunting.

“I’m gonna go ahead and post it, thank you guys for being so understanding and doing this for me and Kyle.” You smiled at everyone, writing out a quick, but rather cheesy, caption before hitting post.

You could ignore the comments that would flood in with the news that you were married, and the many thirst comments you would inevitably get as well. For now you were going to enjoy having your husband home for as long as you could.

[rosegolden13]

Some thoughts about John Price who owns a hardware store in a small town post-retirement for a bum leg… That man could never be forced to not work. He’s not one to sit still for long, even with a small limp. 

Maintaining the place is simple work, easy on his heart and mind after all the stress of his previous job. Does he miss the adrenaline? The feeling of importance? Of course. So, he runs that hardware store like he’s still a captain. You bet those aisles are fully stocked and organized by product and alphabetized by brand. His book is always neatly filled out at the end of each day, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose as he records the daily finances and stock in a neat print. 

He wears kakis that fit just a bit too tight around the crotch, a red collared shirt that all the employees wear with a little logo that Soap designed over the chest pocket where John always has a pen tucked away. 

The biggest perk? The cute little clueless bird that comes in irregularly, needing help. Finally, he gets to feel competent again, needed by someone for his skill and expertise. 

The men almost never ask for help, too obsessed with their own masculinity to do that. Most of the women don’t need it, experts at the gardening or DIY projects they’re doing. 

But you? There’s some sort of home maintenance crisis you need help with nearly every month. John’s beyond grateful that you don’t just go on YouTube for tutorials or call a repairman like everyone else seems to be doing these days. He needs those doe eyes of yours trained on him as he explains the different types of hammers they have in stock and which one would be best for that loose floorboard of yours. He needs your sweet, grateful smile as you thank him for all his help.

He’ll get you the right wrench, doll, don’t worry your pretty little head. In fact, here’s his number in case you need help fixing your leaking sink. 

You need fertilizer for your garden? He’ll carry out the premium brand to your car for you and brush off your thanks with a simple “anytime, sweet'eart”.

The rest of the boys come in on their leaves to help out around the shop with stocking shelves and whatnot. Gaz and Soap cackle like hyenas the first time they see Price rush to your side when you tilt your head in confusion at all the different types of super glue. Even Simon is smirking a bit under his mask. The man is whipped.

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[homeofthelonelywriter]

The boys still couldn’t believe it. They had just taken down Makarov, Johnny barely surviving it, and now they were somewhere in America, in a beach house with a strip of private beach. All curtesy of Kate, apparently it belonged to her family but was hardly used, so the boys using it was a welcome change.

They had been uncertain if they wanted to accept the (paid for) vacation, but after they all finally got released from the hospital, Price decided it was time for a break and some relaxation. So, they packed their bags and flew to the States. Kate had given them a brief introduction on what was where over the phone and the excitement grew, especially when she mentioned that there was scuba diving equipment.

So, the moment they arrived, after quickly dumping their stuff in the entry way and changing, they grabbed the equipment and set out into the waters. Even Simon couldn’t suppress a small smile or hide his excitement. At first, they stayed fairly close to the surface, but after Johnny saw a colorful fish he wanted to follow, they continued on into deeper waters. And that was when they heard it.

At first, it sounded like a wounded animal, but nothing like anything they had heard before. Either way, a sudden protectiveness coursed through them as they followed the sound to the source. And then they saw it. Or rather her. You.

Your tail had gotten stuck in an abandoned fishing net and you couldn’t get out. Originally, you had tried to reach your people with your cries, but no one came. Well, except for these four men suddenly in front of you. The few encounters you had with humans so far, had never ended well, so no one could blame you when you shrunk back in fear, reaching for the dagger that usually rested in its sheath on your hip, but you had lost it when you tried to free yourself earlier.

The men and you starred at each other for a few moments, before one of them approached. Immediately you tried to swim away, momentarily forgetting about the net, but you were immediately pulled back as the rope cut into your scales. A pained wail escaped you, as blood slowly seeped into the water. The man quickly raised his hands, before slowly gesturing to the net and then to his thigh, where you could see a small knife. You could see his eyebrows raise, as if asking for permission, and you slowly nodded, hoping that they would just let you go afterwards.

He mirrored your nod, before slowly approaching you and taking out his knife. With precision that was unknown to you, he cut through the rope until you were free. Out of reflex, you darted away, your tail swishing hard enough to send the man back a bit, making him loose his grip on the knife and you watched as it disappeared into the darkness. You glanced back at the four, before diving into the darkness, after the knife. Along with it, you found your dagger, which you put back in its place, before swimming back up, just to see the four still there, as if they hadn’t moved. Slowly, you swam up to the man who freed you and held out the knife with both hands, a small smile gracing your lips.

He took it from you, nodding in thanks. After one more glance over all of them, you turned around and swam back to your home, taking a few detours in case they were following you. But when you came to rest later that day, you mind stayed with the men. No matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about them. And little did you know that they had the exact same problem.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

A/N: Inspired by a post by @beloveds-embrace. Should I continue this?

[leyavo]

Kyle Garrick would definitely go to your yoga or Pilates classes in the morning when he’s back home.

Everyone looks at Kyle in the studio (you’re totally distracted too) and Kyle teases you immensely about it. “I think they thought I was the instructor, baby.” You book the couples classes when he’s home, even the men are asking him for some pointers on building muscle. Tells them he works in a different profession whenever he’s asked and you can’t keep up with the latest one he’s chosen to lie about.

He’s worse than you talking to the women, you have to drag him out or you’ll be there for ages. Tells you all the gossip though. “You know that Mike guy, had laser eye surgery. Didn’t recognise him without his glasses.”

Kyle’s core strength and balance is better than yours too. You thought he’d struggle a bit, but he took it all in his stride and got on with it.

Knows you like stopping off at coffee shop after on Monday too, so he’s sitting by the window with coffee and a pastry as you watch the world go by. He’s watching you though.

When you become parents though, you end up scrapping classes and do them at home. Your toddler trying to copy your moves and it’s the best part of Kyle’s day, waking up to see you two.

Both in your button down pyjamas, soothing music filtering through the living room. Matching yoga mats on the floor and the coffee table pushed over to the other side.

He’s already making you coffee whilst you cool down from your yoga/pilates routine. A warm cup of milk for toddler. You both like making breakfast after together too. Slow mornings before you go to your temp job and he’s left home with toddler.

When he’s working away he makes sure to video call in the morning, asking if toddlers learnt a new pose. Daddy, daddy echoing through the speaker and toddler’s lips on the screen.

Telling him that toddlers gone back to sleeping in your bed since daddy ain’t here. Really need to get them back in their own bed before he comes home.

Kyle just thinks about all the kicks to his gut and little hands in his face each time he does return. “Yeah gotta get them in their own bed, but don’t rush it baby.” He knows you don’t like sleeping alone, so what’s a few months going to do?

[secretlovezz]

-Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Masterlist-

Drabbles/Imagines:

First Kiss

Cuteness Aggression

One-Shots:

Coming Soon! <3

Fanfic-Series:

Coming Soon! <3

[gloomwitchwrites]

Kitchen Quickies (3 of 4)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), established relationship, praise, cum swallowing

Word Count: 957

A/N: part of the Imagines & What If series

Kyle tries to keep his cool as you get on your knees.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // kitchen quickies masterlist

“Yeah. I can hear you.” Kyle glances up when you walk into the kitchen.

He’s sitting at the small breakfast table in nothing but gray sweatpants. They hang low on his hips, the elastic band resting right across the deep V-shape of his pelvis. You clearly see the soft line of hair that runs up from below the band to circle his belly button.

Kyle leans back in the chair, legs spread out before him, and one elbow on the table. He holds his phone up to his ear, and his bare chest is still a little damp from the shower. There is a deep, primal urge within you to put your tongue to the droplets of water.

“Who is it?” you mouth silently, resisting the urge to put your lips to flesh.

“Price,” he mouths back. Price must say something on the other end because Kyle responds out loud this time. “Yes, Captain. I heard you.”

He gives you a lopsided smile and rubs at his chest absently, glancing away again as he focuses on the conversation. You watch him for a moment as you lean against the countertop. You’re in a bit of a mood to cause trouble, and Kyle looks so relaxed and peaceful that teasing him sounds like fun.

Moving slowly, you saunter up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Kyle doesn’t glance up at you but he does use his free hand to reach up and cover your hand with his. His fingers twine with yours, and it’s such a soft thing that you don’t want to break it.

But you do.

Breaking away from him, you step between his spread legs, and slowly sink to your knees. At first, Kyle is confused, the middle of his brow furrowing as you begin your descent. But when your hands fall onto his thighs and slide upward, that confusion changes into a knowing smirk. He finds this amusing, maybe even playful, but you want him to shiver under your touch, to have to focus all his control on not falling apart while on the phone with Price.

Kyle reaches out to stroke his thumb over your cheek. “Not now,” he mouths, shaking his head.

You don’t care. You’re going to enjoy this. And afterward, he’ll probably deal out a little punishment.

Your fingers crawl up his thighs and curve around the band, pulling back. Kyle is only half paying attention. Price is likely telling him something important, but there isn’t any stopping you. By the time you reveal his cock, and Kyle’s attention is focusing in, you’re already putting your mouth around the head.

With one hand, your grasp the base, and Kyle hisses, his head falling back slightly as you palm him and your lips lightly suck on the head. You pump him a few times, then release the head to place a soft kiss on the tip. A pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit, and you eagerly lick it up with the tip of your tongue. Another one blooms there, taking its place, and you swirl your tongue around the flared head before licking the entire length from base to tip.

Kyle begins to moan, but quickly catches himself, covering it up with a cough.

“Sorry, Captain. I’m good. Just something…stuck in the throat is all.”

Your grin up at him and Kyle shakes his head in amusement.

Teasingly, you circle the head of his cock with the tip of your tongue. Kyle shifts in the chair. He can’t sit still, and even though the phone is pressed to his ear, you can tell he’s completely unfocused on what Price is saying.

Victory.

Kyle grabs the back of your neck, but he does not pull you away from him. It’s a silent acknowledgment and you claim the opening. You take the head of him into your mouth. Holding there, you wait for your salvia to collect. Then you swallow him down, your lips touching your hand.

Kyle’s eyelids flutter, all of his control slipping away from him like raging water. He’s nodding but you’re not sure if he’s agreeing with something Price is saying or he’s reveling in the feel of your mouth around him. Hollowing your cheeks, you slide back up, and then repeat the process, bringing in your hand to pump him in time with your upward passes.

Getting on your knees for Kyle makes you happy and eager. Watching him lose all control stirs your own need. His hand slides away from your neck to go to the top of your head. Kyle licks his lips and his mood changes.

Those eyes of his grow darker, and you suddenly stop moving, gaze locked with his.

“Captain. I need to call you back.” Kyle pulls the phone away from his face and ends the call.

He smirks, and you know you’ve lost. “Bad girl,” he croons, his fingers tightening your hair. “Hold onto my thighs.”

You immediately comply, your fingers digging into the fabric of his sweatpants. Kyle takes control, and it’s fucking glorious. Your mouth and throat are his to use, and Kyle takes full advantage, guiding you down on his cock over and over again enough that you almost gag but don’t.

He groans loudly, his hips flexing upward slightly as he brings you down on him.

“Be good and swallow for me,” he purrs.

You hold still as Kyle finishes down your throat. You relax, take every drop, and when he slowly pulls you off his cock, you present your open mouth to him.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, helping you to your feet. One of Kyle’s hands drops to squeeze your ass and gives it a light pat. “Bedroom. Now.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @berarenado @saoirse06

[cowboyshadows]

Okay, hear me out: Kyle Pick-Up Artist Garrick. In the sense that he is an expert at dates. Has the routine down to a T. Could become one of those douchey pick-up artists on TikTok, but he’s really doing this for the ladies, okay? Raising their standards and all.

Offers to pick you up. Shows up with a bouquet of flowers with soft colors and pastels—whites, light pinks, and light yellows. Tulips, baby’s breath, peonies. When you open the door, he’s gonna whistle lowly and exhale a huff of laughter. "Sorry, I just… wow. You look amazing." Picks out one flower from the bouquet and places it behind your ear.

Holds the elevator open, opens the door to the car—because he isn’t an amateur. Hand on your thigh, but nearer to your knee because he’s a gentleman, but he still wants you to know how much he wants you. Practiced, occasional glances at you in the rearview mirror, followed by a bashful-looking away when he sees you notice.

Pulls out the chair for you. Holds your hand the entire dinner. Maybe his ankles are brushing yours. Makes you laugh the whole time. (So what if he uses the same jokes? That’s between him and the staff at his favorite restaurant.) Feeds you his dessert with his spoon, and then licks the spoon clean.

Waits for you to go to the bathroom to pick up the check. If you don’t go to the bathroom, he’s gonna pretend to instead. You ask him about the check, and he refuses to elaborate further. Just has a lopsided grin on that beautiful face. Infuriating, really. Wraps his jacket around you so you don’t get cold. Lifts you up princess-style if you say you’re too tired to walk in your heels.

Pulls you in for a chaste, soft goodnight’s kiss at your door. Hand on the small of your back, arms bringing you closer, almost in a hug. Groaning softly into the kiss. He knows exactly the angle at which he needs to tilt his head, exactly the amount of tongue he needs to be using.

Steps away politely, but his big brown eyes look up at you. Of course, you ask him to come in. How could you not? He’s such a gentleman. And he comes in, and he backs you into a corner softly until you sit. Kneels and takes your heels off, kissing his way up your leg. He can almost smell it on you.

The night goes exactly the way he wants it to, with your clothes on the floor of your bedroom and you in his arms.

What a shame you can’t find him when you wake up in the morning, right?

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

There's Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby

This is my first Gaz fic. I've just started uni break so I finally have the ability to write again, this idea grabbed me by the throat months ago and refuses to let go so I'm writing this instead of my millions of WIPS

Contains: Deadly levels of fluff, it's all fluff, I'm not sorry, this man is a puppy dog so don't blame me, hints at smut.

Masterlist

Song inspo (of course it's fucking Hozier)

1.4K Words

Gaz had never been so mesmerised by fabric before.

"You with us, man?" Price's words pulled him from his thoughts; Kyle hated his army functions, they were always so dull.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm thinking I should have given my ticket to my sister, at least she would be having fun."

Price chuckled. "Just get drunk, I know I am." Gaz sighed, for all their talk, once the gentry had finished their posturing and platitudes, they left the grunts to themselves.

Right on cue, Soap appeared with Simon in tow, their hands full of fancy glasses, and they settled beside their teammates. "I got this one for you Gaz, it's winter melon." It was comical to see Simon without his mask, a fancy drink in a tiny glass in his massive hand.

"Thanks man." It tasted like melon candy and a headache, but it was better than nothing.

"Is y/n coming?" Soap's tone was too almost too nutural.

Gaz nodded. "Yep, she'll be here soon."

Their table went quiet, and Price and Simon shared a look before Price turned to Gaz. "You gonna ask her to dance?"

Gaz blinked. "I don't know."

Simon cleared his throat. "Your arms are going to fall off it you keep carry that torch."

Gaz was going to refute him, tell Simon you were just friends but the tap of Soap's finger and a point towards the grand staircase stopped him. "Holy shit." He had never seen such a pretty shade of yellow, like you were wrapped in the fading sunlight of a spring afternoon.

You made a beeline for the group, stopping only to snatch a glass of bubbling champagne from a tray. "Hey."

Simon was the first to speak, twirling his thin drinking straw as if he were a cheap villain in an old movie. "Don't you look nice." He shoved Gaz in the shoulder. "Don't she look nice Kyle?"

His mouth was still agape, Soap and Price snickering from behind their drinks. "Yes, yes, you look lovely y/n."

You smiled. "Thank you Kyle." You paused for a moment, the poor man looked like he was going to keel over with nerves. "Will I be on your dance card tonight?"

He blinked. "Yep, yes, I would love to dance with you."

Simon, Price and Soap exchanged a look as Price hid his red face behind his glass; now was not the time to laugh at the poor man. "Wonderful, I need to go thank Kate for the invite." You turned to Price. "Please don't drink to much while I'm gone."

He chuckled. "You're off duty Doc, I can do what I want."

****

Kyle was a coward, a terrorist killing, war criminal hunting coward, or at least that's how he felt watching you awkwardly dance with a man old enough to be your father.

"He's an earl, you know?" His team had been taking turns for the last hour and Soap's Scottish lit had only grown stronger as he got drunker, your disapproving looks only served to spur him on. "You're going to lose your lady to an old earl." He snorted as you pulled away. "Wait, no, she doesn't like him much." He slapped Gaz on the back, and it was hard enough for him to shift from his spot. "Go on laddie, before someone else steps in, you did tell her you'd dance with her."

Gaz sighed and downed the rest of his whiskey. "Right.." His shoulders fell. "I don't fucking know how to waltz."

Soap chuckled. "You'll do fine, just don't step on her lovey shoes."

He took another deep breath and stepped out onto the dance floor, heading right to you with determination. But any confidence he had faded like a dying star when you flashed him a smile. "Kyle, I thought you'd run off."

He shook his head. "No, we haven't danced yet, and I want to do that, with you."

You did your best to hold back your giggle. "Is that you asking me to dance?"

He nodded and squared his shoulders, extending his hand like a Victorian gentleman. "Y/n, may I have this dance?"

You nodded and took his hand. "I would like that very much."

You stayed at the edge of the dance floor as the soft music continued, taking a deep breath before addressing the elephant in the room. "When are we going to talk about what's going on between us?"

He managed to hold back his flinch, the hint of upset in your voice was enough to make his chest sting. "Now's as good as any time I guess."

You huffed. "You guess? We spent weeks sitting with each other by Soap's bedside after Makarov shot him, then he finally checked out and you almost kissed me and now you're acting like nothing happened."

His eyes fell to the floor. "I know, I didn't know where to start. I didn't want to fuck things up."

You smiled softly and lifted a hand to his cheek. "You won't, don't worry."

The tension bled from his body as he resisted the urge to nuzzle into your palm. "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded. "I would like that."

He leaned down, his nose brushing yours, before pulling you into a kiss. It was soft, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin as the other hand splayed across your lower back. His chest swelled, so this is what love felt like, like drowning in a roaring river, all the sound sucked from the air while he got pulled into the undertow.

He pulled away and slid his hand up your body, uncaring of the people standing around watching. "The hotel gave us a room for the night, something about throwing us a thank you breakfast, you wanna save the cab fair and come to stay with me tonight?"

You nodded. "That's very thoughtful of you Kyle, shall we go now?"

His face broke into a grin, and he looped his arm around your lower back. "I like your thinking."

You slowed as you walked by the rest of the 141. "Get it off your chests now, you've all got one minute exactly."

Simon was silent, and Soap was so drunk that he was just smiling like a madman, so Price was the one to add his two cents. "Just use protection, I'm too young to be grandfather." Kyle's eyes went wide, and Price broke out into a belly laugh. "Off you go kids, go have fun."

You pulled Kyle away by the arm and waved. "I won't forget this."

The elevator ride was smooth and quick, and you were in his room in a flash. His lips found yours again, and you leaned against the door. His fingers slid around your body to find the opening of your dress. "You need to unlace the corset sweetheart."

He took a deep breath. "Right." He moved behind you, his hands never leaving your skin as they reached the bottom of the dress where the bow was tied. It took him a while, but the dress slowly loosened, and he slid his hands upwards to slip the cap sleeves off your shoulders. You stepped out, and his head tilted; he was expecting lace underwear, not more skirts.

"It's called a petticoat, it makes the dress more puffy." You took his hand and brought it to the hook and loop closure, and he struggled for a moment before that, too, came free.

He stretched his hand out, softly pinching the short silk dress that covered your skin. "A chemise, my dear, it stops the corset boning from pressing against the skin."

He grabbed the hem with a soft smile. "Can I?"

You nodded. "Of course." He marvelled at the softness of the silk as it came off, and his breath caught in his chest as he took in your bare flesh. His fingers reach out, brushing your flesh with a gentleness that didn't seem possible for hands so calloused. You took his hand and placed it flat on your breast, and he seemed stuck dumb. "Are you alright Sweetheart?"

He nodded. "Oh, I'm fucking great. Shit, I think you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen."

You smiled. "Ok, you're very overdressed."

His dress greens were suddenly even tighter and scratchier and that was saying something. "Yes I am."

You reached up and slid the coat from his shoulder, placing it on the nearby chair before you turned your attention to his shirt buttons. "Ok then, I guess we should fix that."

He nodded. "You should." He grinned and kissed you again, deeper this time with a promise of things to come. "I love you y/n."

You sighed as your hands hit the hard, warm muscle of his torso. "I love you too Kyle."

Fin

@chaos-4baby @candy616 No idea if this is your thing so no pressure.

[guppybibi]

Price who rethinks about his life choices when his kid asks him what year he was born just for them to say "Wow, you're old daddy! Were dinosaurs scary?"

Simon who was teaching his little girl some carpentry because it wasn't just a boy's job, right? Of course it isn't! But he does internally cringe when his kid grabs a nearby hammer due to curiosity and drops it on his foot.

Kyle who silently gulps nervously & you see sweat forming at his forehead when his kid goes up to him and asks help with their homework (Not that he's stupid or anything, he's a grown man after all, just genuinely doesn't want to get anything wrong.)

John who had to witness first hand how honest and mean children were when his own child came up to him, all smiles at first just to say– "You're hair looks a little weird, daddy." Then runs off to continue doing whatever.

(uhh im a different person at night, if this is bad, blame them not me)