#kyle gaz garrick fanfic

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Kinktober Day 29/30: Piss + humiliation - Gaz x reader

Tags/warnings: Fem!reader, fingering, no piss drinking, only wetting yourself. Humiliation, praise, fingering, being called princess, love, baby, and good girl.

No, what are you talking about. It’s not April, it’s October 30th.

Basically, Gaz helps you through your first time trying this kind of thing out with him when you can’t let go on your own.

“Come on baby, I know you can do it for me.” Gaz coos, holding your head up with a hand on each side of your temple and his fingers threaded through the roots of your hair, keeping you looking up at him.

You sob, squirming, wanting nothing more than to look away and hide your face. Your cheeks feel hotter than the sun with need and humiliation and fat, ugly tears streak your face- all while Gaz looks down at you with a sweet look of condescending adoration.

Even through your clothes, the tile of the shower floor feels uncomfortably cold against your legs as you sit with your knees spread to the sides.

You have to pee, you have to pee so, so bad. You couldn’t stop squirming at this point- bouncing and wiggling and doing anything you could to distract yourself from the raging pressure of your bladder.

You’d been holding it all day- trying to delay this exact situation, but eventually Gaz had gotten fed up, dragging you to the two of you’s shower and telling you that you weren’t getting up off the tile until you’d gone for him.

“I-I can’t!” You say, more tears slipping out of your eyes.

Gaz frowns, stroking at your tear-stained cheek with his thumb.

“Yes you can. Come on baby, just let go for me. You’ll feel so much better after you do, I promise.”

You let out another sob. The skin around your stomach feels too tight, your bladder feels like it’s about to burst, but the shame at the idea of wetting yourself- no matter how much you knew Gaz and you both loved and agreed to this scene- was too much, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head.

“What’s with the crocodile tears, love?” Gaz asks, kneeling down to your level and squishing your cheeks together to make you look back at him.

“I can’t do it!” You cry, words muffled by Gaz’s squishing of your face. You’d tried to- you really had, to just go. But you couldn't, you couldn’t force yourself to let go in front of Gaz.

Gaz smirks, taking one of his hands down to push at your distended lower belly, right at your bladder.

“I think you can.” He says, only smiling wider when you yelp and jerk your hips away from him. “Do you need some help, princess?”

You crumple, sniffling back snot as you duck your head and nod.

Gaz grins, getting on his knees on the edge of the shower and scooting you back so you were backed up against the wall so you couldn’t squirm away before gently starting to press on your bladder. You instinctively try to jerk your hips away again, eyes widening and face flaming as you feel a trickle of piss start to escape you.

Gaz grins knowingly, rubbing at your clit with his other hand and- oh, oh that does it. Your body lets go as your hips stutter and jerk into his hand. The burning humiliation proves too much, your chest is wracked with sobs as warm piss soaks into your bottoms and down the shower drain and a pang of arousal shoots through you.

Immediately, Gaz is there, cooing soft praises as he holds you close against him and continues to rub your clit, cooing soft praises into your ear as he rubs your back and lets you sob into his shoulder.

“Good girl, good girl. Did so good for me, didn’t you? Just needed a little help to let go- that’s alright, it’s okay, precious.” He says, holding you tight even as piss continues to pour out of you, even soaking into his own pants somewhat too.

To your horror, your holding of your piss seems to come back to bite you, as even after your stream starts to dwindle, piss continues to dribble out of you for at least half a minute after you feel done.

Throughout it all, Gaz continues to sooth you, praising and loving on you and continuing to rub at your clit until your sobs and sniffles turn into moans and whimpers.

His hand finds its way lower, not carrying about the piss soaked fabric clinging to your skin and slipping his fingers between your folds easily with how slick they are from your own arousal.

Gaz laughs softly at the discovery of how utterly soaked you are, kissing you softly before having you look up at him.

“Aw, did my poor girl make a mess of herself?” He teases, and you can’t help but moan desperately and nod, clutching at him as you move your hips and practically ride his fingers.

“That’s okay love, I’ll take care of you.” He says, mouthing a kiss at the side of your neck as he fucks you with his fingers, cooing and praising you when you come with a sob from just the two digits.

“Good girl,” He says, smiling at you lovingly, all traces of the earlier condescension gone. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He finishes before turning on the shower, pressing a final loving kiss to your lips before starting to get the two of you cleaned up.

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[deakyjoe]

Burnt Cake & Melted Ice Cream

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Reader

Category: friends to lovers, and they were roommates!

Summary: Gaz returns home from deployment earlier than expected.

Warnings: fluff, kissing, best friends to lovers, reader can’t bake, reader is a bit of a chaotic mess, that’s it I think

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: How am I supposed to pay attention to anything this man is saying when he’s got those big beautiful brown eyes? They’re distracting! Dedicated to @sofasoap who I asked ages ago for advice on this and then never actually got it finished <3

Consider buying me a coffee :)

The cake was burning.

You were blissfully unaware.

Blissful may have been an exaggeration. Unaware was not. In fact, you were entirely too busy cleaning up your living room for the arrival of your best friend and roommate whose plane was scheduled to land in two hours time. You were trying not to panic as you were nowhere near ready to welcome him home and certainly not prepared to leave to go and pick him up from the airport within the next hour. You hadn't even showered yet!

It was a regular thought in your brain about how it was possible for you to make your home such a mess when Gaz was away. It's not like he was regularly doing the housekeeping. But maybe his absence meant that there was no one to keep you in check.

So this happened every time he was on his way home. You'd sweat as you desperately tried to scrub away any evidence of your sinful sloth state while he was away. And hate yourself for leaving it to the last minute as always.

You were knocked out of your hypnotic cleaning state by someone at your front door. Not knocking. Just making a vague scratching sound against the wood. Your first instinct was to attack. In self defence of course. So you grabbed the item closest to you - a bottle of furniture polish.

With the metal tube gripped tightly in two hands, you made your way towards the door where it now sounded like someone was attempting to pick the lock. You desperately tried to remember the moves Gaz had taught you to ward off stranger danger. None of it was coming back to you.

So with the furniture polish held high above your head, and a scream ready to leave your lungs, you waited for the intruder.

You were pleasantly surprised when a familiar face emerged from behind the door and sent you the smile that made the edges of his brown eyes crinkle.

“Hey- what are you doing?” Gaz’s face dropped as he took in your attack stance, gaze flicking over the bottle in your hands back towards your open mouth.

Your hands fell back to your sides, your heart rate decreasing rapidly in relief. “I thought somebody was breaking in!”

“With a key?” He held up the little metal object for you to see.

You sniffed and folded your arms across your chest. “Picking the lock.”

“Ah, right.” He nodded in understanding.

You suddenly realised that he shouldn’t be standing in front of you in your home at that time. "What are you doing here? Your flight isn't supposed to land for another two hours! I'm supposed to be picking you up at the airport!"

Your best friend shrugged. "Yeah, I lied."

You frowned. "Why?"

"Wanted to surprise you."

"But I wanted to surprise you! I baked a cake!”

He unsuccessfully stifled a laugh. “Why did you bake a cake?”

“Welcome home present or something, I don’t know.” You sighed and looked at him properly for the first time, suddenly thankful he was home and healthy. "I missed you."

Gaz visibly relaxed. "I missed you too."

As the two of you embraced with a warm hug, you remembered what state you were in.

You pushed away from him and looked down at yourself. "Shit, I haven't even gotten dressed yet."

He reached out and playfully tugged on the hem of your shirt. "I like you in your pyjamas."

"Not exactly the prettiest sight to come home to though, is it?" You scoffed and slapped his hand away.

He closed the door behind him and kicked his bags to the side. "Do you think I care? I'm just happy to see your face again."

"You've got that photo of me." You countered, starting to walk back to the kitchen.

He followed. "Nothing beats the real thing."

"Well, I can agree with that." You said with a mock arrogant sniff.

With a laugh, Gaz thought about something. "You been wearing that t-shirt I gave you?"

"Yeah.” You glanced away bashfully. “Stole another one from your wardrobe too."

"Why?"

"First one stopped smelling like you." You confessed, stopping in your tracks when the distinct smell of burning hit your nose. You ran towards the oven, switching it off and wrenching the door open. Smoke spilled out in a black cloud. "It's all gone to shit."

Gaz looked over your shoulder. "It's okay. I wasn't very hungry anyway."

You knew he was lying. "You sure?"

"Yeah." He smiled softly at you. "Ice cream?"

You nodded, appreciating how he was sparing your feelings. "Ice cream."

Ice cream was always the solution for the two of you. Bad day at work? Ice cream. Terrible first date? Ice cream. Feeling down? Ice cream. It always worked.

As you pulled the piece of charcoal that was supposed to be a cake out from the oven, Gaz seemed to hesitate at the sight of the ice cream.

“Uhhh…”

You groaned. “What? Don’t tell me we’re out.”

“No, not out.” He paused.

“What then?”

He looked at you with apology in his eyes. "I think our freezer's broken."

“It’s what?!” You gasped, running to his side only to find out that he was correct. Everything in there was very defrosted. Including the completely thawed ice cream which had leaked from its tub into a large melted puddle. “Aw, shit.”

“It’s okay.”

You could’ve cried. “No, it’s not. I just wanted it to be all nice for you when you got home this time and look! I fucked it all up.”

“Broken appliances aren’t your fault.” He swung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close next to him, burying his nose in the top of your head. Physical affection wasn't uncommon between the two of you. It was, in fact, the back-up plan for when ice cream was out of the picture. “Besides, coming home to you is enough.”

“Shut up, Garrick.” You mumbled but didn’t push him away, instead choosing to wrap your arms around his torso to hug him closer to you.

“Let’s just sit down, order some food and watch a movie, yeah?”

“Alright.” You sighed, letting him drag you back to the living room when the two of you collapsed into the pile of cushions and blankets that you had failed to tidy up before his early arrival.

“Did a bomb go off in here or something?” Gaz looked around the room and took in the disarray.

“Was cleaning.” You grumbled into his shoulder. “Wanted it to be nice.”

“Mhm, you said.” He paused. “Do you always do this before I come home?”

“Yes.” You sat up to look at him again. “You deserve it.”

The two of you held eye contact for a few seconds, probably too long to be called platonic but you pushed the thought away. Until Gaz spoke.

"I thought about you a lot while I was away."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the possible connotations behind that broad statement. "I'm flattered. Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to remember your best friend back home. Really appreciate it."

He shook his head. "No, I mean- I mean I thought about you all the time. All the time."

That caught you off guard.

"Really?" You squeaked.

Gaz chuckled. "Yeah."

"Why?" You knew why.

He uttered your name softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. Why did it suddenly feel wrong to touch you? “I think you know why.”

“Say it.”

He didn’t want to be too forthcoming with it. So he settled on something he hoped to be more gentle and subtle. “The thing we’ve always avoided talking about. Even when people imply it.”

“Kyle…” You rarely used his first name. Nobody did. It was reserved for particular moments. You decided this was one of them.

He took it the wrong way. “No, I get it. You don’t feel- that’s okay. I’m sorry for-“

“No, that’s now what I-“ You cut yourself off with a frustrated huff. "I just don't want this to be some fleeting thought you had whilst getting shot at because I'm the closest person in your life."

His eyebrows shot up. "It's not."

“No?”

“No, I promise.”

You watched him for a moment, the sincerity that was pouring off of him. Maybe he was being serious, maybe he truly meant it. You figured there was only one way to test it.

“Kiss me.”

He looked shocked. "Kiss you?"

"Yes, kiss me."

"You want me to kiss you?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, Kyle. I want you to kiss me."

He sat up straighter, fixing his posture. "Okay, I'm gonna kiss you."

"You better." You laughed.

"Alright, I'm about to kiss you."

"Just shut up and kiss me, Garrick."

And he did. With one hand on the side of your face, the other on one of your thighs and yours tangling in the front of his shirt. The two of you kissed for the first time. It was long overdue, the both of you knew it as soon as your lips touched. It was sweet, and tender, and almost a little desperate, and it felt right.

The two of you pulled back for air with a slightly shy giggle.

"Please tell me that worked for you. Because it really worked for me." He mumbled, swiping his thumb across your cheek.

“Oh, it really did.” You replied, leaning back in to kiss him again which he was only too happy to reciprocate.

The burnt cake, the melted ice cream, the untidy room, and any previous doubts went forgotten for the rest of the night.

A/N: it’s a crime how long it’s taken me to write for Gaz :(

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hand Necklace (4 of 4)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: vaginal fingering, light spanking, anal fingering, anal sex, sex toy, double penetration (secondary penetration w/ sex toy), lube, established relationship

Word Count: 1.2k

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

With some spare time, Kyle enjoys your body.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // hand necklace masterlist

“Where are you off to?”

You return the wand to the mascara bottle, watching Kyle in the mirror as he saunters into the bathroom from the bedroom doorway. He wraps his arms around your middle, hands resting on your stomach as his face turns into your neck, inhaling. He places a kiss right where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Might see some friends,” you reply, setting the mascara on the countertop, one of your hands resting on his.

“When?” he asks softly, lightly nipping at your ear.

You shrug. “A couple hours from now. Why?” You turn in his arms, seeking his face.

Kyle tightens his hold. “So, you’re free for a bit?”

You grin, knowing what he wants. “I am.” You twist around in his grip entirely, draping your arms lazily over his shoulders. “And what would you like to do?”

Kyle unlocks his arms and brings them down to your hips. You’re only wearing an oversized t-shirt with no underwear. It’ll give him easy access to you.

“Am I allowed to do what I want?” asks Kyle. “Willing to follow my lead?”

He’s asking for permission, and you gladly give it. “You know I’m yours.”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of smile. Using his grip on your hips to turn you around, Kyle bends you over the bathroom counter. You have to go up on your toes to prevent the edge from digging into your stomach.

Kyle pushes the t-shirt out of the way, exposing your ass and pussy to the air. One large hand kneads a single cheek before lightly smacking it. It jiggles, and Kyle does it again, watching the bounce before alternating between the two. It isn’t harsh, but there is a very brief sting every time his palm makes contact.

You’re so focused on the way his palm connects with your ass that his finger parting your pussy to slide inside surprises. You inhale sharply, fingers curling to dig at the countertop. Kyle hums softly in pleasure, pumping his finger slowly as your pussy takes more and more of him. His thumb presses on your clit, moving in tandem with his finger.

Kyle inserts a second, and then he alternates between spanks and slow rubs of his thumb. You’re completely at his mercy, bent over, taking all of it. As the pleasure builds in the base of your spine, Kyle increases his pace slightly, just enough to make you fall over the edge, moaning loudly, pussy squeezing his fingers as your toes nearly leave the ground.

Kyle makes a pleased sound low in his throat before his hand on your ass slides down to tease your other hole.

“I’m going to take you here,” he says. “Think you can handle it?”

You smile. “I’ve handled you there before.”

Kyle leans down to place a kiss against the curve of your neck. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He kisses your neck a second time. “Hand me the lube.”

Slowly, you reach out to the nearby drawer. Opening it, you retrieve the bottle, holding it out to him. Kyle takes it from you. You hear the lid popping open and the soft squelch of the gel releasing from the bottle followed by Kyle moving it around on his fingers.

There is a brief pause before Kyle sets the bottle down on the counter. Then, he pushes one finger inside, followed by a second. He begins slowly, moving in languid strokes, working you up to take his cock.

“How’s this feel, love?” Your response is a moan and a strangled “please.” In the mirror, you see Kyle’s grin of victory. “Just a bit more and you’ll be good and ready, yeah?”

A few more strokes and then Kyle withdraws, positioning himself behind you. His cock slides over your sex, collecting lube and your slickness before he brings it to the curve of your ass.

“I need you to do one more thing for me, love.”

“Anything,” you groan, only wanting Kyle to fill you up. To give you what you want.

“Grab the toy. The one we haven’t used yet.”

You glance up into the mirror and Kyle arches a single eyebrow, telling you to go on, to do as he says. Slowly, you reach into the same drawer the lube is kept in, withdrawing a satin bag. Opening it, you remove the toy in question. There are two parts to it. The first is the dildo, smooth and soft with a rounded tip for easy insertion. There is also a smaller nub above it that is in the perfect position to rub against your clit.

Kyle nods toward the toy. “While I fuck your ass, you’re going to fuck yourself with this. Understood?”

Licking your lips, you uncap the bottle of lube and lather it onto the dildo portion of the toy. Shifting your weight to one forearm, you bring the toy between your legs, pressing it to your pussy. As you start to push it in, Kyle takes that moment to start easing himself inside of you.

The stretch of his cock and the toy is almost too much.

“Easy,” he croons when you whimper. “Take your time, love. No rush.”

Once the toy and Kyle are completely inside you, Kyle’s hands shift to your throat. He wraps both hands around it, fingers interlocking.

“Turn it on,” he instructs, and you do, the vibration immediate and strong.

Your breathing comes shaky. Unsteady. Kyle’s first thrust with the combination of the vibrating toy snaps your resolve, sends that building pleasure at the base of your spine exploding forward. It shoots out, enters your limbs, makes the tips of your toes and fingers tingle. Your pussy clenches around the toy as Kyle sets a steady pace.

With his hands around your throat, you’re pinned between him and the counter, completely submissive to every stroke he gives. Your grip on the toy is weak, and you’re only able to move it in little bursts of energy at a time. The small, vibrating stump that presses on your clit lengthens your orgasm into an endless stream of haziness.

Kyle’s hold on your throat tightens a bit. It forces a slight arch in your back, your ass rising a bit more, giving Kyle better access to it. His hips move erratically now, and though you’re nearly gone yourself, you can still hear him distantly.

Kyle’s groans before he comes are sweet. He sounds completely lost, utterly surrendered to the feel of you. You might be the one bent over but Kyle is the one losing it.

“Fuck,” he groans, drawing it out.

Another wave of your orgasm floods through your body. This one is so intense that every muscle clenches and keeps clenching until the only thing you can do is cry out.

Kyle bends forward, his forehead resting against the back of your head as he grinds forward. The toy is still vibrating, and your body periodically jerks in response. It is Kyle’s hand that drops from your neck to between your legs that there is some relief.

He turns the toy off. Removes it from your body. Rests it gently on the counter.

You glance up into the mirror and immediately laugh.

The fresh mascara runs down your cheeks in black rivers.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @bbyfimmie @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien

[sinkovia]

Silence

Kyle Garrick x Fem!Reader

Angst, violence, blood, mention of death.

Masterlist

For weeks, he had been planning to propose, to ask you to spend the rest of your lives together in love and happiness. He had envisioned the moment countless times in his mind, rehearsing the words he would say and imagining the joy on your face when you said yes.

But fate had other plans, cruel and unforgiving. On what was supposed to be a routine mission, Kyle and you found yourselves captured by the enemy. Bound and helpless, you both were subjected to interrogation, the enemy demanding information that could jeopardize the entire team.

In the danger surrounding the both of you, the thought of the proposal lingered in Kyle's mind. He couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get the chance to ask you to marry him, to express his love and commitment in the way he had always dreamed.

As he felt the weight of the small box in his pocket, Kyle prayed silently for a miracle, for a chance to make his proposal a reality and to begin building the future he had envisioned with you.

They observed the way you and Kyle gazed at each other, bound in chairs mere feet apart, the silent communication of love and desperation passing between you. It was a connection they sought to exploit.

A vulnerability.

With brass knuckles clenched in their fists, they loomed over Kyle, their intentions clear in their presence. One of them approached you, his voice laced with malice "Answer our questions, and we won't hurt him," You could only nod in response, your heart heavy with the knowledge that any refusal would only result in pain for Kyle.

Despite the agony of betrayal that gnawed at your conscience, you answered every question they posed without hesitation. Laswell and Nikolai's names spilled from your lips, your loyalty to Kyle outweighed only by your determination to protect him from harm. It was a choice made in an instant, fueled by love and the primal instinct to shield the one you cherished most from suffering.

As their focus shifted back to you, the tape sealing your lips felt like a cruel reminder of your helplessness. Despite the fear and pain that gripped you, you found solace in the unwavering trust you held for Kyle. In the depths of your soul, you knew he would do whatever it took to protect you.

As the men approached, their footsteps echoing ominously in the cramped confines of the room, you met Kyle's gaze with unspoken reassurance. You trusted Kyle implicitly, knowing that he would give them the answers they sought in order to spare you from any harm. Kyle had always placed your well-being above his own, never hesitating to shield you from danger or sacrifice his own safety for yours.

You knew he would do the same for you just as you did for him.

“Where is John Price?” Kyle remained resolute, his jaw clenched in a defiant line. He couldn't bring himself to betray the trust of his comrades, couldn't sell out Price and the others to save himself or even you.

Your heart sank as you witnessed Kyle's refusal to comply with the enemy's demands. Desperation clawed at you as you attempted to provide the answers they sought, but your efforts were futile, your words reduced to muffled noises by the tape sealing your lips. The realization that Kyle's silence was placing you in imminent danger filled you with a profound sense of horror.

With each passing moment, the torment inflicted upon you only heightened Kyle's anguish. The sight of their cruel hands leaving bruises on your skin, the sound of your muffled screams echoing in the room—each moment tore at Kyle's soul, filling him with a profound sense of helplessness and despair.

Every fiber of Kyle's being screamed for him to intervene, to put an end to your suffering, but he knew that yielding to their demands would mean betraying everything he stood for. He couldn't allow himself to falter, couldn't let down Price or the team, even if it meant sacrificing everything he held dear.

Kyle clung to the hope that the team would arrive in time to rescue you from this nightmare, to put an end to the agony and bring you both to safety. With each passing moment, he prayed silently for their arrival, willing them to come to your aid before it was too late.

With each brutal blow that rained down upon you, your world became a blur of agony and despair. Your vision swam, the relentless assault leaving you feeling as though your very essence was being torn apart. Despite the overwhelming pain and the sensation of your body betraying you, a flicker of strength remained within you, allowing you to cast a desperate gaze toward Kyle.

But to your dismay, Kyle's gaze remained averted, his attention fixed elsewhere as though he couldn't bear to witness the torment he unwittingly allowed to unfold. The realization pierced through the haze of agony, leaving you reeling with a profound sense of betrayal. How could the man you loved, the one you thought would always be there to protect you, turn away when you needed him most? In that moment of anguish and despair, the truth hit you like a sledgehammer.

Kyle's loyalty to the team outweighed his love for you.

The thought cut deep, shattering the illusions of security and affection you had once held dear. As the pain and betrayal consumed you, you couldn't help but wonder if the love you had believed in had ever truly existed.

“Dead already?”

As the echoes of their callous laughter reverberated through the room, Kyle's heart sank like a stone. Slowly, he raised his tear-streaked gaze, his eyes falling upon the devastating sight before him. There you were, slumped over in the chair, your once vibrant spirit extinguished, your form shrouded in a veil of crimson.

The weight of your lifeless presence hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the irreversible consequences of his silence. Tears streamed down Kyle's face unabated, his hands trembling against the restraints that held him captive.

The unbearable burden of guilt pressed down upon him, suffocating him with the crushing weight of remorse. With each tear that fell, Kyle's anguish deepened, knowing that his refusal to speak had sealed your fate.

As the team finally arrived to rescue you both, Kyle's heart shattered into a million pieces. He fell to his knees before you, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch your bloodied skin.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen."

He begged for your forgiveness, his apologies a futile attempt to atone for his unforgivable failure. His words fell like broken fragments against the silence of the room, each apology a futile attempt to turn back time and undo the horror that had unfolded before his eyes.

Your lifeless form slouched in the chair, surrounded by a pool of crimson. Kyle's pleas for forgiveness fell upon deaf ears, his words lost in the suffocating silence that enveloped the room. The team watched in solemn silence, their hearts heavy with grief, as Kyle's agonized apologies echoed through the chamber.

In that moment, as he knelt there beside you, Kyle couldn't help but imagine a different scenario. He envisioned himself on his knees before you, a ring in his hand and a question on his lips, ready to pledge his love and devotion to you for all eternity.

But now, as he stared at your lifeless form, battered and broken, he realized that he would never get the chance to ask you to be his wife. The future they had once dreamed of together lay shattered at his feet, a casualty of the silent agony that had consumed him.

With each passing moment, the weight of his failure pressed down upon him, suffocating him with the knowledge that he had failed you when you needed him most.

As he continued to plead for forgiveness, his voice lost in the emptiness of the room, Kyle knew that he would carry the guilt of your death with him for the rest of his days, a haunting reminder of the love he had lost and the promises left unfulfilled.

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT VENTING WITH KYLE ON THE BEACH.

cw: tooth rotting fluff, comfort, established relationship, intimacy, lot of kisses, massaging, teasing, flirting, pet names, just a lot of romantic couple things, reader described as wearing a swimsuit. pairing: bf kyle gaz garrick x gf fem reader

author's note: that's my first ever try of writing for kyle, so he maybe might seem to ya'll ooc, or something else, but i just wanted to try and post something with him, so i hope that those who'll read it enjoy.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

the sun and slight coolness create a pleasant atmosphere on the morning beach, there are not many people yet, the pale sand has not had time to be filled with a huge number of plastic chairs and sun loungers, while the slightly warm rays play with reflections on the water and color the sand yellowish.

your trip to the beach with kyle was completely spontaneous, an idea that emerged during the dialogue that it would be nice to get out somewhere together to relax and unwind, especially considering that kyle has been sitting more at home lately, too tired from missions and definitely missing your presence to go somewhere from the comfort of home, therefore, the best option was the sea, light warmth, cool water, the images that popped up in kyle’s head, and not even yours, looked too tempting not to voice them

— “hmm, wha' abou' a beach, then, sunshine?„

that's why you were now sitting on his tailbone while kyle lay on his stomach on top of the beach mat, letting your hands touch his dark, sun glistening skin, starting from the bottom of his back and working up the white streaks of sunscreen, the cool, sticky texture making him shiver softly, practically arching, if not for the weight of your body pressing him down while you cover every visible part of his back with sun cream.

your hands slide to his shoulder blades, tracing the defined bones and muscles that tense and limp under your touch as your thumbs press in circular motions, moving to his shoulders, and kyle turns his head to the side, catching your slightly concentrated face, which causing him to have a wide, snow white smile, revealing his pointed fangs, while he practically purrs

— “can't really ge' enough of your touch on me, sweethear'„

his shameless flirting causes a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips as your body leans forward and you move your face closer to his, placing a quick kiss on his lips as he reaches back, propping himself up on his elbows and tilting his head to capture your lips with his, rubbing with his stubble against your skin and frowning his dark thick eyebrows with displeasure when you pull away from him, sliding off him and standing on the sand, flashing him a teasing smile and murmuring, playfully

— “well, i can't smear you with sunscreen until the evening?„

kyle laughs in response, propping himself up on his elbows and stretching to warm up after lying down for a long time, letting the sun's rays fall on his skin, illuminating him as his back and abs muscles work at the same time, rippling with every movement until he is fully on his feet, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you into the air without a single problem, narrowing his dark eyes in a smile, catching the sun with them and letting them light up as he lifts you slightly, placing his hands under your ass that is slightly opened by your swimsuit, allowing him to hide your pretty parts, while your hands rest on his shoulders

— “is tha' a question, sunshine? because my answer is definitely yes„

his slightly deep voice sparkles with perkiness, causing you to playfully roll your eyes back before you reach up to kiss him softly on the cheek, placing a warm kiss where he has a scar of two scratches, which brings a burning tenderness in his gaze, encouraging him to kiss you back just as reverently, fidgeting with his slightly plump lips against yours, his slightly shaved mustache tickling your skin as he presses closer to lick your lower lip and open a passage inside your mouth, freeing one hand from under your butt, and holding you on one, he touches the back of your head, pressing you deeper into the kiss, stroking your hair, until one of you pulls away.

and kyle does it first, allowing you to greedily draw in lungfuls of air through swollen and wet lips, not even paying attention to possible looks from the passing people, before you are brought back to reality by unexpected, literally childish behavior on his part, when he leans down and touches your nose with his, before biting the tip of your nose, and you gasp, your eyes immediately widening in surprise, before you furrow your brows and pinch his own nose, and he just breaks out into loud laughter, his body shaking and you with him while you mutter threateningly

— “you do this one more time and i would bury you in the sand, garrick!„

the laughter immediately becomes quieter, softening as he rubs his eyes from the slight accumulation of moisture there from approaching tears, before starting to walk towards the open sea along the sand, still holding you in his arms, even despite the slight frown in your eyebrows and feigned offense at his action, although it still touches him, which is why he bounces you slightly in his arms, jumping up, pressing his cheek against yours with an airy smooch and purring smugly

— “aww, come on, i'm sorry, sunshine, let's enjoy the woter, shall we?„

you look at kyle with suspicion, sincere, narrowing your eyes when he turns his head to look at you, smiling sickly sweetly, knowing that his charm always works without unnecessary problems, but you still give him a small warning, making him snort, but one way or another, listen to the end

— “don't try to pull out something silly again, i dare you„

he nods, as if obediently, but you see that sparkle in his brown eyes and it leaves nothing good to be desired, especially when kyle still gives you his answer, far from an agreement, but you can’t help but smile at his playfulness, sighing and resigned as you lay your head on top of his, kissing the top of his dark, curly hair, almost imperceptibly, but kyle is aware of your every warm touch

— “don' promise you anything, sweetie, but i migh' try„

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Home At Last (141 Members x Reader)

Summary: You and your boyfriend spend some time together after an extended mission. Preference for what has changed in each of the 141 men after a long mission abroad, including Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, and John Price.

AN: It’s hard writing preferences so kudos to all the writers who specialise in them! I’ve found that I really like writing fics where you share a bed with the COD boys and/or they’re vulnerable with you lmaoo. 

Content warnings: Some allusions to smut (Minors DNI), Reader is GN and some use of Y/N, a mixture of soldier!reader and civilian!reader

Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Can you fix it?”

Ghost was slowly but surely making his way out and allowing room for Simon to come back, one of the eye sockets sliced apart. Part of that process was removing the mask when he was sure he was absolutely safe: in his room, door locked, preferably with you. But this part had been altered.

In his hands, he held his balaclava with the skull faceplate splintered diagonally down the middle. As he stared back at what he usually stared with, he winced. The snot green marks, mottled with violet, framed his face where the mask had crunched into him, beneath the butt of a gun. His ears were still ringing from where his brain struggled to process this attack. Vaguely he remembered an enemy soldier standing above him, raising his empty weapon to strike Ghost in the face again, to match his mask, his skull, and his moniker as truly one. Then blood spurted out the enemy’s gut, his clothes tearing in two spots, and the enemy collapsed alongside him.

Your question echoed around in his head, a sign he was failing to ground himself as well as he usually did. He tossed the mask away from him. He wasn’t sure where it landed and he didn’t care either.

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice was closer now, and reverberating less. Good. Simon was coming back.

“It’s just a mask,” He replied.

It would be easy make another one. He could darn and mend clothes well enough, and making a new mask would only refine his oft-abandoned stitching skills. Plenty of spares lined his top drawer

Somewhere in his inner monologue, you’d changing into your post-shower lazy gear.

“Nightcap?” You offered.

“Fuck,” He sagged at the suggestion, “Please.

Through lazy eyelids, he watched you collect the decanter, pouring two fingers worth of whiskey into glasses. You mixed yourself a drink too. Clinking his glass against yours in the smallest celebration of the mission’s end, Simon knocked half the whiskey back. He enjoyed the burn a lot more than the bruises.

Swallowing, he heard you sniff and gag, “Oh my god, it reeks.”

In your hand was the abandoned mask. Sitting down beside him on the cot, you began unpicking the stitches that held the broken faceplate against the fabric, whilst Simon poured himself another glass then sipped and swirled at it.

With the plate removed, you held the balaclava up in front of you both, “Just needs a scrub. Save you buying a replacement.”

Good thing about the fabric being black: in the dark, you couldn’t see the dried blood.

“Thanks,” Simon knocked his head lightly against yours, groaning a curse word in instant regret. He held the cool glass against his bruise.

“How’s the rest of you?” You asked tentatively.

“Fine,” Simon closed his eyes, “Not broken.”

The next thing he felt was your hand touching his that held his glass, the gentle contact tracing up his arm until you reached his ropey shoulders. There, you began to squeeze out the first knots your thumbs found. Simon grunted appreciatively, soaking up the touch he’d missed these last few weeks.

After a few minutes, he tilted his head back to see you, knelt behind him and smiling away at your handiwork. He couldn’t help but grace over your cheek with the backs of his calloused fingers.

“You ok, sweetie?” You leant against his touch.

Simon blinked languidly up at you, “Mm, it’s good to be home.”

-

John “Soap” MacTavish

AN: Genuinely wrote this before Neil decided to drop his Soap in the bubble bath checklist.

John “Soap” MacTavish really knew how to brighten a doorway. His broad shoulders carried bulky arms and a body to boot, almost entirely blocking out the hall light when he opened your bedroom door and sheepishly smiled at you.

“Hey love.”

Never before had you left your bed with such speed. It was like you could fly, fairy dust and the happiest thought of your husband’s return after three months radio silence spurring you across the room. Your arms wrapped around him to prove he was really hear. There was a thunk of his bag falling to the floor, and you were swept up in his embrace.

You only realised something was off when no stubble rubbed against your neck as Johnny nudged his cheek there. Drawing back to take in his face, you gasped at the sight of several strips of white tape holding his chin together.

Your hand traced over his cheek, avoiding the injury by several inches, “What happened?”

“Razor wire, it’s fine. Healing,” dismissed Johnny, pecking your lips between his answers. You were too concerned to respond at first but then you realised he was trying not to react every time his lips pursed, tugging on his fragile skin.

“You’ll fuck up your cuts,” You tried to lean back away from his kisses, as tempting as they were.

But Johnny had you in a boa constrictor’s grip and he wasn’t about to let you go, “Don’t care. Missed you.”

“Johnny,” You said in an attempt to warn him.

“Baby,” He mocked and managed to get the one more kiss on the corner of your mouth that caused you to cave.

“Missed you too,” You said, sheepish under his fond gaze. Fingers brushing through his overgrown Mohawk, you kissed him thrice more, the final lasting until you couldn’t hold your breath any longer.

With his lips brushing yours, Johnny whispered with a smirk, “I stink.”

“I know you do.” Your hands slid down to his shoulders. “I can run you a nice hot bath.”

You thought his pupils couldn’t dilate any more, but his iris was now barely a ring around his pupil at the mention of his second greatest weakness.

Swaying from side to side, Johnny tucked his thumbs into the waistband of your pyjama pants, “Will you join me in there?”

“Scrub you down?” You raised an eyebrow. Fluttering his eyelashes, Johnny nodded with a pouting bottom lip, and you snorted at how ridiculously charming he was acting.

Despite the comedy routine, Johnny was clearly more interested in the simple pleasures that were hot water and your presence against his war-torn body. The groan that released from his throat as he sank beneath the bubbles made your cheeks warm as you removed your sleepwear.

Before he wrapped himself around you, Johnny splashed you – which you claimed was unfair since his stitches prevented you from splashing back. But he made it up to you by settling you against his chest, heart beating strong within it, arms returning to cuddle you close. You stroked over his forearms, letting the water soak his fluffy dark hairs while the pair of you flirted with each other. With the Sandman lingering over you after your extended day, you almost drifted off beneath the bathwater - twice.

-

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

When Kyle Garrick sloped into medical, you were in your office with no idea that he was there. Being buried up to your eyes in paperwork worked wonders for preventing distractions. He was hovering by your office door and watching you in your official habitat with that dopey smile on his face, lovesick after two months away from you, and you hadn’t even noticed. Your pen continued scribbling down details of the latest entrant to the med-bay, your eyebrows creased in the centre of your forehead – the picture of intense concentration.

Unable to stand being in your presence without acknowledgement any longer, Kyle cleared his throat. Your head shot up, eyes wide to take him in, and you gasped.

“Oh my god,” You shot out of your chair, leaving a line of ink at the end of whatever insignificant word you’d just written. You didn’t care about anything else as your arms squeezed around your boyfriend and all his tac gear.

But then he grunted, restrained rather than relieved, and you pulled away, assessing his entire body as you asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Need a change on bandages.” He gave you a wry smile as he gestured to his shoulder. It was then that you caught sight, beneath his vest and jacket, of a bandage that did not look as sterile as it had presumably been when it was first dressed on him.

“I swear to God, if you went for debrief before you came here…” You trailed off when Kyle dropped his gaze, looking a little sheepish, and you couldn’t keep a wrangle on your volume as annoyance filled your body: “That idiot! Did you tell Price you needed them changed?”

No time for an answer, you dragged Kyle (by his good shoulder) to a bed in the bay. He watched with affectionate exhaustion whilst you worked and rambled about the “bloody paperwork” being nothing compared to “potential for infection, did you even have access to anti-biotics on this mission?” Even as you ranted, your touch against Kyle’s wound was as gentle as ever. The reunion with softness made the soldier shiver. You mistook it for feeling the chill of the evening and sped up your healing – and your tirade on Price’s priorities.

“Next time Price comes here, I’m not using anaesthetic. Don’t even care how much it hurts,” You grumbled as you tucked in the end of the gauze and surveyed your handiwork. Content with this conclusion, you let out a sigh like it was the first breath you’d taken since Kyle came back.  

“Feel better?” Kyle raised an eyebrow with fond irony.

Peeling off your rubber gloves, you dumped them in the disposal, “No. You’re still hurt.”

“Barely a scrape. Come here.” His good arm raised to make way for you, and he kissed your forehead to welcome you back. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” You allowed yourself a little break in his embrace, before resuming your role, “I’ll get you some painkillers then we can head to bed.”

“Got all the medicine I need right,” He pecked you quickly on the lips, “Here.”

“I’m not kissing your bandages.” You proved this by kissing his cheek, “And you’re still taking some painkillers so I can cuddle you.”

Kyle sat up a little straighter. Ah yes, the most potent medicine, often best paired with kisses: cuddles in bed with a loved one after prolonged absence. It meant swapping sides on the bed so that you weren’t leaning on Kyle’s injury, but that was hardly a sacrifice.

And if there were a few more kisses on places that didn’t risk medical attention, that was between you and your beloved boyfriend.

-

John Price

It was an easy rule to agree to: no PDA on a mission or on base. Only in the privacy on his quarters – unofficially yours too –permitted you both to let your real feelings show. Therefore, a mission two months long had deprived you of the affection John often shared with you.

You’d gotten creative over the years: the occasional tap if his knee against yours if you were sat beside one another, or a hand touching the small of your back as he passed you by during the watch changeover if you were really lucky. But it was nothing compared to what you could get up to when you were off-duty. More than anything, the mission had been a real exercise of self-restraint, one you both took with the utmost seriousness.

Two weeks prior, when your hearing took a knock from a grenade exploding close by, John had almost given in. He was the one to cup your face, getting Ghost to shine a torch whilst he checked your eyes for signs of a concussion. He took your watch that night too.

But now, with steam curling about the small bathroom, he was able to rest his hands on your waist, pouting and pulling faces as you sliced the foam from his cheeks.

The fully-fledged beard that had grown across the mission had been hidden mostly in a balaclava, to protect against the cruel snow and ice that had battered you day in, day out. It did suit him well, as did the waves that curled in his longer tresses  beneath his hat – in a sort of gruff recluse kinda way. But he had his image and reputation, and the SAS was hardly a place to be sporting untamed hair. Hence why you were carefully trimming at his beard until the floor of his private bathroom was littered with brown (and the occasional grey) hairs.

“I’ll shave it properly in the morning” he had said when, upon entering his quarters, he’d embraced you tightly and tickled your neck with his unruly facial hair.

You replied, “You could go to a barber’s, treat yourself to a hot towel.”

“You’re cruel for teasing a soldier with the prospect of hot towels.”

“Or I could do it?”

That suggestion struck a chord with the Captain, and he realised later that it was a nice way to ease himself back into the comforts of your relationship.

You were half tempted – in your post-mission mania – to shave his cheeks bare like when he was a Lieutenant and bask in the baby-face he’d suffer from for the three weeks it’d take to get his mutton chops back to their original glory. Nonetheless, as you followed the grooves of his chin, you decided that treating this act of trust as sacred was better than the split second of devilish delight you’d get from that. Maybe when you were both retired though.

Patting down his cheeks with a fluffy towel that’d been hanging on the radiator, you revealed him unto you, “Hello handsome.”

At last you could show your love for him and without worrying about getting his facial hair trapped between your teeth like dental floss. Still holding his chin up, you pressed a smiling kiss to his already pursed lips.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” He hummed against you, and you both giggled at how his appreciation – and his freshly trimmed beard – tickled the small space between you.

[mlmxreader]

The Perfect Husband | Kyle Gaz Garrick x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Can I request Gaz with the prompt 60 "It's cold, and I want a cuddle"

Thanks ❞

: ̗̀➛ Gaz is always happy when he comes home, but ever since marrying you, he's always been his happiest when he's there.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Two years, six months, eight days and five hours. That’s how long you and Gaz had been married upon him walking through the door after his latest deployment; for six months, seven days, and two hours, he had been gone.

But he was here now, although he looked tired and worn down, large bags under his eyes and a slightly hazy look in his eyes as he fought back the urge to yawn. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and allowing the scent of home to welcome him.

Fresh coffee, the sound of the kettle just and just turning on again, the warmth from radiators that had been turned on for hours; he smiled, dumping his bag and hanging his cap on the hook next to your thick Winter coat.

Humming under his breath, he kicked his bag to the side so it couldn’t be tripped over, and made his way to the kitchen; the light was on, although he could see why you had not come to the door to greet him just yet.

Headphones sitting firmly on your head as you hummed to yourself; Gaz immediately knew the tune - one of the songs by a band you both liked - Fields of Verdun, by Sabaton.

Gaz knew what to do as he slowly put his arms around you, pulling your back flush to his chest; it took you all of a single second to recognise him, pushing your headphones down and around your neck before gently cradling his face in your hands as you smiled.

You couldn’t help it, letting your eyes roam his features for a moment, taking note of how he seemed so age so much and how he seemed so fucking tired. He would regain his youth every time he came home, and then lose it all again the moment he went back to war; but that was how it had always been for soldiers.

It would never change.

You would have to make the most of what little time you got with him, you knew that, but even as you held him so close, you could already tell that he was slowly slipping through your fingers; a lifetime together would not be enough.

“Hello, mouse,” he whispered, a faint grin on his lips. Dark brown eyes holding little golden halos where the light hit the top of his irises.

You licked your lips as you smiled, wanting to roll your eyes at the stupid pet name; you could still remember the day he started saying it, after you had trapped and released a mouse at the 141’s base. It still made you laugh; all their expertise and their intelligence put together, and none of them were able to catch a tiny little mouse.

“Hi, cariad,” you murmured, letting one hand slip to the back of his neck. “How was it getting back?”

Gaz hummed, leaning into your touch as he relaxed, the tension falling from his shoulders visibly. “It was alright. Price stunk the car out with his posh fags because he refuses to open the window, Ghost kept changing the radio station, Farah was asleep so she didn’t do nothing, not really.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head with such fondness that you couldn’t quite fathom it yourself. “How long did they make you drive?”

“Only from the airport to the first town,” he admitted. “After that, Price did the rest.”

“Good,” you said softly, kindly. “How you feeling?”

Gaz allowed himself to slump into you, resting his forehead against your shoulder and dropping his arms from your waist; he closed his eyes, leaning into you and letting all of his weight rest against you. You didn’t even flinch.

“Fuckin’ knackered,” he rumbled, voice like thunder. Harsh and lazy. “And it’s cold, and I want a cuddle, and I want a cuppa and… I just wanna  be home for all of five fucking minutes.”

“You’re home now,” you told him softly, running your hand up and down his back. “Why don’t you have a fag, have a cuppa, then get in the shower, get your pyjamas on, and snuggle down with me?”

He hummed as he smiled, nodding slowly as he tried to bite back the urge to let out a long and eye watering yawn. “Fancy watching a film and getting a Chinese?”

You grinned as you pushed him away slightly, just enough to gently press a kiss to his lips that left him wanting more. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Gaz nodded, daring to steal another kiss as he pulled away; he instinctively knew where the tobacco, filters and papers were, and set to work rolling two cigarettes whilst you prepared him a quick cup of tea.

Earl grey, black, no sugar. The way he always liked it, especially with the bag left in.

You thanked him with another gentle kiss when he swapped a cigarette for the cup of tea, and quickly pulled out your phone as you looked at what takeaways were open.

“Our favourite’s doing delivery,” you pointed out, leaning into his side.

Gaz leaned back into you, taking a quick look. “What’d you fancy?”

“Chow mein and fried rice, half and half,” you started, “curry sauce, sweet ‘n sour sauce… maybe some spring rolls?”

“You know me better than anyone,” he breathed out with a grin and a curt laugh. “Portion of cheesy chips as well?”

“I knew I married you for the right reasons,” you joked quietly, adding it to the order. “Couple of fritters for afters?”

“Always!” Gaz scoffed, playfully smacking your arm as you laughed while he giggled. “How long until it gets here?”

You took a quick look, then shrugged. “Enough time for you to have a shower and get your pyjamas on.”

“Get yours on as well,” he told you gently. “We’ll camp out in the front room for the night, watch some shit telly, pig out.”

You pulled him in for a quick kiss, grinning against his lips. “You’re the perfect husband, Kyle, y’know that, right?”

[blckbrrybasket]

Falling, Fallen .3

gaz x gn!reader

ᴄᴡ: drinking, smoking

ᴡᴄ: 1.7k

← previous, next →

The moment Kyle was back by your side he felt lighter and there was no denying you felt the same. There was an indisputable vibe between the two of you, but you decided not to dwell on it and go with whatever happened. “Hey!” You called out over the chatter. A sheepish wince crossed your features when it was a little too loud. Kyle chuckled and stepped to the side to lean on the bar, your body turning to see him in your full front view.

“I didn’t think I’d see you for a bit.” Or ever. You were thrilled you ran into him though. “I’m going to guess you haven’t finished the book?” Kyle rolled his eyes, playfully huffing and crossing his arms. “Well actually-“ Your eyebrows raised in surprise and his faux serious expression faltered. The corners of his lips tipped up when he dropped his arms. “No, I haven’t.”

You laughed at his dorky behavior and shook your head. This was only your second time hanging out and he had been able to make you forget everything you were doing both times. Kyle chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer to you ‘to hear you better.’

"You got me there," he admitted with a mischievous grin, the playful banter between you only deepening his desire to stick by your side. "But hey, don't blame me for being distracted by your irresistible charm and wit. That’s why I haven’t been able to read it. If you weren’t here I’d be curled up in that booth with my book.” It was your turn to roll your eyes and you playfully nudged his shin with your foot. “Yeah right.”

Kyle lowered his voice, drawing you in for him to tease you further. “I'll have you know, I'm determined to finish it. I won't rest until I do. I told you, I’m going to be your emotional support buddy." Another flush of heat hit your cheeks. “Oh my emotional support book buddy?” You countered. Kyle sighed and leaned back again, “Didn’t have to one up me with the name.” His tone showed no hint of true resentment though. The smirk plastered on his lips said the exact opposite.

You raised an eyebrow and snickered. “Oh okay Mr. Charm.” You took a sip of your drink, letting your eyes trail behind the bar. Even with your eyes shifting elsewhere you could feel Kyle’s on you. It wasn’t weird at all. It was almost comforting in a way. Reassuring that he was genuinely interested in getting to know you.

After your drink you turned to look back to him only to discover his eyes hadn’t drifted anywhere else. Kyle’s small smile grew wider. Wanting to know more about him, or more so not wanting to let the conversation die, you spoke up again. “So what are you doing here? Not saying that you do or don’t look like you’d fit in here.” You nodded to the pub’s indoor decoration. It was definitely more of a local pub rather than a more flashy one. He seemed like he’d fit in at flashy pubs or anywhere of that caliber. Kyle just had a perfect face that could really fit any level of fancy.

Kyle chuckled at your comment, feeling the nervousness in his veins fade away. You made it so easy to converse and not be worried about messing up the conversation. Taking a moment to observe the pub's interior, he nodded in appreciation. "Well, this place certainly has charm," Kyle replied, a glint in his eyes. "But to answer your question, my friend loves this pub.” He shrugged nonchalantly, resting his arm on the bar, his posture far more relaxed not that he was actually talking to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you saying I don’t fit the crowd, Kyle?” Your tone remained light and teasing, making him shake his head and smile again. “Depends, love. Do you want me to be honest?” Your hand swatted at his arm making him fake a worse injury. You lovingly swore you could only roll your eyes so much. “Don’t inflate my ego too much there.”

Kyle grinned and took a step forward, “I’ll keep a note of that.” His eyes flicked back to look at the booth where Price looked awfully smug, Soap wore a mischievous look, and he could guess behind the face mask Ghost was smirking. Your eyes followed him to the booth where the man with mutton chops had waved at you earlier. “Those your friends?” Kyle hummed and looked back at you, nodding and smiling. “Yeah. Take a wild guess of which one loves it here.”

You raised an eyebrow leaning towards Kyle while you squinted at the trio. “Mohawk.” Kyle grinned, “Ding ding ding. How’d you know?” Did you have to list why you thought it was him? “No comment.” He grinned and shook his head trying to hide his smile behind his hand scratching at his chin. Soap still looked smug as ever at the table, not realizing they were talking about him. “Wanna go over there?”

The question surprised you a little bit. You didn’t think Kyle really wanted you to join his friends or cared enough to invite you. Your eyes widened slightly and seemed for a moment that Kyle was going to nervously take the offer back, but you smiled. “Yeah I’d love to.” He subtly exhaled and gave you another dazzling smile, “Good, good. Yeah let’s,” he gestured the way. Kyle politely let you walk ahead to the table. He certainly wasn’t making signals behind you for Soap to shut up.

Once reaching the table Kyle held a hand out to his friends. “This is John,” Price nodded at you with a friendly smile. “This is Simon,” The so-called ‘Simon’ kept a black balaclava on and an indifferent expression. He nodded as well and you decided not to question the fashion choice. The last option left the mohawked man. “And this is also John.” You raised an eyebrow and glanced at them, “Two John’s? Must get confusing.”

The second John leaned forward with a cheeky look. “Aye, I’m th’ handsome John.” You snorted out a laugh and covered your mouth. “Oh yeah?” John nodded proudly, earning a jab to the side from Simon. “Ow, feck. What th’ feck was that for?” Simon simply mumbled an answer that had John scooting to make space, Kyle shooting a glare at John. The seemingly older, and wiser, John gave an apologetic look.

“Sorry ‘bout that, love. Have a seat.” You glanced up at Kyle who looked back to you and smiled again, covering up whatever emotion was previously in his eyes. Smiling back, you sat down and scooted into the booth. “Thank you, seriously. You guys didn’t have to do this.” “Nonsense, any friend of Kyle is a friend of ours, yeah?” Before you could answer the other John raised his glass, “Hear, hear! Cheers to that!”

Kyle seemed a little quieter or preoccupied in his thoughts. He raised his arm and put it on the back of the booth opening his stance up to you. “You just want to drink, Soap.” The statement earned a chuckle from himself and Price. “Soap?” You questioned. Simon jumped in speaking clearly now. “Call ‘im that cause ‘e doesn’t know what the hell soap is.” Soap gasped dramatically and the mask over Simon’s lip shifted indicating his wide smirk.

“Ah dae tae!” Soap protested, accent thickening at the scandal (and alcohol). “Boys.” Price sighed when Simon pressed a hand to Soap’s shoulder to keep him at arm’s length. A minute in and you could tell John was a father figure to them. No time to dwell on the thought though, because a soft pair of lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Sorry about them. Thought they’d be less rowdy tonight.” You ignored the shiver running down your back and glanced over your shoulder at Kyle. “It’s okay, really.”

He tilted his head, brown eyes studying your face intently before he nodded. “As long as you're okay.” Your small smiles mirrored each other's, his appearing a second after yours. “Definitely am. Dealt with way worse.” “Worse than him?” Kyle nodded to Soap who was still bickering with Simon. Laughter tumbled from your lips again, it was easy to laugh around Kyle. “Yeah, even worse than him.”

Kyle fell silent for a second, but not uncomfortably. His lips parted before you realized the bickering died down. Turning back you were met with Price trying to seem like he hadn’t been paying attention to the two of you, Simon seemingly less interested, and Soap eagerly leaning his chin on the palm of his hand. “Sooo, yer th’ bird he was talkin’ about?” “Okay,” Kyle’s statement was clear this time. He sighed, getting up and offering his hand to you.

“Wanna take a walk?” Not caring that you had basically just sat down, you nodded and grasped his hand. The palm was rough, but yet not calloused. “Sure.” You hoped you didn’t seem too excited. Kyle’s hand left your hand to slide protectively around your waist. Walking away you could hear the muffled chatter that Soap had ‘scared you off’ and if you strained your ears you could hear Simon nonchalantly flicking the back of Soap’s head.

Kyle filtered through the crowd, his hand never fumbling from your waist. After a minute or so the cool breeze hit your face, caused by a person pushing through the open door. His arm raised and Kyle held the door open letting you slip under it. “You smoke?” He asked, a little too loud from the change in the loud atmosphere. “You smoke?” The question slipped out without a second thought and Kyle responded with a lively chuckle.

“Here and there? You?” He asked again with a smirk, digging to grab his pack. “Here and there,” you retorted with your own smug look. Kyle rolled his eyes and flicked his lighter, lighting his cigarette. He grabbed a second one and pressed the tip to his lit one effectively setting yours ablaze. Kyle passed it to you and watched you take it. “Can I walk you home?”

For a moment you wanted to teasingly ask him ‘can you?’ but not wanting to ruin the moment you nodded and slipped the cig between your parted lips. “Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

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[issysfantasyworldsblog]

Coming Home

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Notes:

pure fluff, bath, naked bodies, no smut, body worshipping, kissing, no use of y/n, no description of the reader’s body anatomy;

Summary:

Kyle comes home. ♡

Words: ~720

------

You can't help but smile as you hear the door close. Kyle sighs as he sets his heavy bag down on the floor. Glancing around the corner, you glimpse your attractive boyfriend, one hand removing his boots while the other holds a present.

"Hello," Kyle greets with a weary smile as he stands up. You pull him into a tight embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. He reciprocates, resting his chin on your hairline.

"It's good to be home. I missed this, and I missed you," he murmurs, lost in his thoughts.

"I missed you too," you respond, kissing his cheek tenderly and feeling his growing beard. He hums in appreciation, holding onto you tightly. Despite the smell of gunpowder and sweat on him, you couldn't care less now.

"Are you hungry? I made spaghetti carbonara," you offer.

"As much as I would love to, I must shower first. I wouldn't want to ruin your delicious cooking with my odour," he declines with a chuckle.

“Then would you like to take a bath with me?" you ask, blushing slightly. Kyle responds by placing his lips on yours. The outside world fades away for a few seconds as you focus on each other. The noisy trumpet playing of the neighbour's six-year-old and the barking of "Sir Cookie," the chihuahua across the street, are forgotten. The most important thing is that the love of your life is back, alive, and without any severe injuries.

As you enter the bathroom, you fill the tub with water and toss a vanilla-scented bath bomb. Meanwhile, in the shared bedroom, Kyle is stripping off his clothes and throwing them into the laundry basket. As you hear him grumble and curse, you can't help but wonder if he's okay.

"Are you alright in there?" you call out. 

"Yeah, just kinda stiff," he replies, appearing naked in the bathroom doorway. Your cheeks flush as you take in his fit physique.

"Goodness, Kyle," you stammer.

“It's not like you haven't seen me naked before. And you know you can touch it whenever you want," he teases with a mischievous grin and playful sparkle in his brown eyes.

"I know, I know," you respond, "but it's been weeks since I've seen you. Next time, give me a heads up before you flaunt your amazing body." Your significant other laughs and wraps themselves around you.

“I try to remember for next time, but I can't make any promises.“

As he eases himself into the bathtub, he lets out a low grunt. The warm water immediately starts soothing his tired muscles.

“Oh, man... That's nice," he murmurs, closing his eyes and leaning back. You observe him discretely before also slipping out of your clothes.

"Can you scoot over a bit?" you request.

"Why? Maybe I want to admire your beautiful body," Kyle teases with a pout.

"Creep. Just give me some room now," you respond, motioning for him to move over. With a scoff, Kyle begrudgingly makes some space for you. As you settle across from him, you adjust your positions in the tub until you are both comfortable.

You take a moment to revel in the peacefulness. As your mind wanders, you tenderly stroke his legs, paying extra attention to the pale scars. Suddenly, he breaks the silence, asking,

"What's on your mind?" Startled, you turn to face him.

"Just how fortunate I am to have you by my side," you reply, leaning towards him.

Smirking, he responds, "That's my line, babe."

His hands rest on your hips, gently caressing them with his thumbs. You lock lips, getting lost once again in each other's presence. His tongue playfully teases your lips, urging you to part them. The gentle, innocent kiss quickly escalates into a passionate make-out session.

However, neither of you takes it to the next level. While you do have sexual relations, upon his return home, both of you relish in the small moments of the relationship, particularly cuddling - without any discussions about work or other serious topics.

As you pull away from the kiss and meet each other's gaze, breathing heavily, you can see the blush on his cheeks, and he can see the one on yours. At that moment, you know that you have fallen in love with the perfect man for you.

------

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[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (1 of 4)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, protective Kyle, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 2.3k

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

With no one to turn to, you contact Gaz, knowing that he'll listen. But old instincts are hard to ignore, and Gaz comes to you because your current boyfriend isn't worth your love. He needs you to understand that.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

It’s late. The colors on the television are bright in the dark room. Sound is off but Kyle isn’t watching. It’s more for the background. A distraction. All the muscles in his body ache. That’s how it always is when he returns from another deployment.

Everything is fine until he arrives home and plops onto the sofa. Like a slumbering bear emerging from winter hibernation, his body reacts to the sudden silence of rest as if peace isn’t something Kyle deserves. It’s why he’s always gone, and because of his continuous absences, you left.

Lonely. You were always lonely with him, and it’s because Kyle made it so. It’s a constant regret that sits in the back of his throat like spice buildup. It burns. Rages. Simmers.

When Kyle’s phone starts buzzing, he doesn’t notice at first. The screen is bright like the television, but it isn’t until its rattling boxy body shifts that Kyle’s gaze glances downward. He considers leaving it, allowing the caller to fall to voicemail, but something stirs in his stomach. It hooks his attention.

Perhaps it’s the late hour or the sudden tightness in his chest. Something is bothering him like stubborn sticky spots on the kitchen floor.

Kyle sits up, reaching for the vibrating phone on the tabletop.

Your name scrolls across the screen.

At first, Kyle’s mind cannot comprehend it. The letters that make up your name move over the screen of the phone in a blur, almost like they’re moving too quickly. But that isn’t possible. Kyle’s mind simply cannot comprehend why the hell you’re calling him this late at night.

You are no longer his. The two of you aren’t together. You moved on and rightfully so. Kyle has seen all the social media posts, and sometimes the blokes at work might bring you up, usually to provoke him. But the fucking joke is on them. The separation was mutual. It was kind and calm and fine.

But that doesn’t mean Kyle hasn’t thought about you. There is no box inside his head to put you in. There is no hole or lock or key or barren wasteland where he could simply toss your memory into and forget.

Kyle didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want to let you go.

But you weren’t happy. He was always gone, and still is. Kyle never figured out how to be a partner to you when he was a partner to his work.

He regrets not fighting for you. He regrets not speaking up instead of gently bowing out.

And it’s late. It’s fucking late. Why are you calling him?

Hope—or a sliver of it—blooms in his chest, twisting around inside his body like ribbons around bone. When the feeling pulls taut, that excitement slides into worry.

The two of you are not together.

You rarely call him.

But his phone is buzzing.

And you are waiting on the other end.

Kyle’s slides his thumb across his phone’s screen, answering the call. He brings it up his ear, and that is when he hears it—a choked inhalation. It is one he recognizes. You’re crying, and trying to hide it.

“What’s wrong?” asks Kyle automatically, the instinct to take care of you rising to the surface.

There is a soft sniffle before you speak. “It’s—fuck. I’m sorry for calling you this late. I didn’t think you’d even pick up. Or be home. Are you home? Shit. I—”

“What’s wrong?” he repeats, because there has to be something wrong. You’re calling him, not your boyfriend. “Are you hurt?”

The idea of someone putting hands on you builds in his mind. It is followed by so many other possibilities. A wrecked car. Someone following you home. Everything.

“No—I mean.” You pause, sighing. The difficulty to communicate doesn’t sit right with him. You’re clearly in distress and the need to fix it is unbearable.

“Are you at home?” This time Kyle lowers his voice. Makes it soft. Gentle.

“Yes,” you answer.

He nods as if you can see him. “I’m coming over.” Kyle is already pushing off the couch, shrugging on his coat, and reaching for his keys.

“Kyle.” You say his name—just his name—and it says so much.

The ribbon between his bones loosens. Tightens. Ties his emotions and memory of you all together until your face is all he can picture.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Kyle makes it in fifteen.

When you answer the door, Kyle shatters like glass hurled against the wall. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. The look on your face dances between anger, sadness, and relief. He has no idea where on the spectrum he currently sits but this vision of you only puts him back to those days when he’d come home for a few days, taking off again, leaving you with nothing for stretches at a time.

There are no awkward greetings. No embarrassed flushes. Kyle does not hesitate, and you open for him. He reaches for you, and you answer in kind, embracing Kyle so hard you might squeeze the air from his lungs.

That would be fine. Kyle would happily suffocate.

Kyle stands and holds you, breathing in your familiar scent, pressing his face into your hair. His eyes close, and it’s just like before. Like you never left him. The sensation of you this close ignites every possessive part of him. It tells him to not let go and to keep you close.

But you are not his woman. Not anymore. And yet you should be.

He does not pull away until you do. But you don’t retreat into your flat, or slip out of reach. You stay right where you are, the two of you hovering just inside the doorway. On instinct, Kyle is touching you, one hand cupping the side of your face, your tears staining his skin where he touches your flesh. His other hand is on your upper arm, thumb rubbing across the bare skin there in gentle strokes.

You begin to melt, the muscles in your body relaxing. What Kyle wants to do is to take you to the couch or the bed, to drape you over his body, to place you in his lap. That is the intimacy he craves. It’s what he would do if you were still his.

Those gorgeous lips of your part, mouth opening as if you wish to speak, but whatever you want to say is lodged in your throat. In their place come fresh tears and sudden shifts of emotions that range from frustration to despair.

You’re hurting. You’re hurting so much, and Kyle only wants to fix things.

“Look at me,” murmurs Kyle, both hands now cradling your face. “Let’s get you settled. Yeah?” You nod, your small smile forced. “Come with me,” he coaxes.

He draws away and gently reaches out to take your hand, guiding you over to the sofa. He instructs you to recline, grabbing a few more pillows and a blanket. Once you’re all tucked in, Kyle digs around in your kitchen searching for snacks while the kettle boils for tea.

The need to take care of you is overwhelming. Kyle’s head throbs from the incessant voice that tells him to get you calm, to make you comfortable, to listen when you’re ready. The routine is easy, and Kyle provides, executing what you need without prompting or even second guessing it.

And you open up for him. Thank him. Reach out with your hand to hold his as he sits next to you on the couch. You’re calmer now with your tears wiped away and your face no longer puffy.

“Ready to talk about it?”

Your thumb runs along the edge of your mug. “Still want to hear it?”

“You can tell me anything,” he replies automatically.

You lick your lips and inhale. “He yelled at me.” By the defeat in your tone, Kyle can immediately tell that this isn’t the first time.

Kyle stays quiet, allowing you to take the lead, to tell it however you need to.

“This time it happened after we met up with some of his friends. I called him ‘boyfriend’ and got a few odd looks. In the car he told me not to call him that. I didn’t understand so I pushed.” You glance down at your tea. “He screamed the whole ride home. Dropped me off here and wouldn’t even look at me.”

Kyle goes cold all over. You’ve been with this guy for almost six months and he’s upset that you referred to him as your ‘boyfriend?’ No. Fuck him. That’s fuck boy behavior. That’s a man who wants all the benefits without any of the commitment. You don’t deserve that. And this fucker doesn’t deserve you.

Sighing, you reach for your phone and unlock it, turning it around to present it. Kyle takes it, staring at the screen. There are texts upon texts from the guy, all of which you’ve left unanswered. It starts as an apology and quickly becomes angrier as he scrolls.

But you did answer him. It’s the very last message. You sent it just before you called Kyle.

We’re done, it reads.

And there is no answering reply. There are no pulsing bubbles to even indicate that he’s formulating a response.

Good. Fucking good.

Kyle extends his arm, returning the phone. You don’t lock it. You shut it down, tossing it onto the table. Placing the mug of tea down, you sit up, staring intensely into Kyle’s eyes. There is so much he sees there, but he won’t move first even though he wants to, even though he wants you to return to his arms so he can remind you just how perfect the two of you are for each other.

But sometimes memory and the movement of it are just the length of a singular breath.

Maybe it is Kyle that moves first. Maybe it is you. In moments—seconds—you are straddling Kyle’s lap, arms laced around the back of his neck, your mouths pressed together in perfectly wanton need, a reunion that shakes every bone in his body.

You are fresh air. Cold ice cream on a hot summer day. Strawberries with sugar and cream. Sweet. Perfect. And only for his consumption. That is always how it should be.

Kyle’s hands slide up your body, over every curve.

“I miss you. I miss you all the time,” you confess, fingers digging into the front of his shirt.

Your admission is validation.

“I’d never tell you to not call me ‘boyfriend,’” murmurs Kyle against your mouth before going in for another kiss. “I’d want to hear you say it all the time.”

His words are a promise. An invitation.

Take me back. Please. Choose me.

Your lips part and Kyle slides his tongue inside, relearning your flavor. It is heaven dissolving on his tongue. He chases it, chases you, until you’re tugging at his clothes, wanting them gone.

It doesn’t matter that this is your sofa. If you want him, Kyle will lay himself bare, let you have whatever the fuck you want. There isn’t much to remove from you, but once the two of you are bare and you are straddling his lap, Kyle gives all his love and attention to these next moments.

Your body briefly resists, and then it melts, allowing him entrance. Kyle wraps one arm around your waist, hand splayed over your lower back to support your weight as you roll your hips up and down his cock. His other hand holds onto the side of your throat, keeping your gaze on him as you fuck yourself on him.

It’s glorious. Perfect. You are so slick and warm around him. He never forgot, but the real thing is better than memory. Better than his hand in the shower or the dark. You are moaning, light and wavering and only for him.

Your fingers dig in, nails clawing but not tearing. On the next rock of your hips, Kyle slides deep, and the sound you make nearly snaps his control. He holds fast, hand sliding to squeeze your ass as your movements become frantic and with no purposeful rhythm. You’re seeking your end, and Kyle wants you to have it. He needs you to have it.

“Come on my cock, love. For me. Yes. Like that.” You squeeze and Kyle groans loudly. “That’s it. Fucking hell, love.

You turn your face into his neck to stifle the cry that erupts from your throat as your orgasm hits you. Kyle nearly finishes himself, your pussy a vice around him, claiming him. A shudder runs through your limbs, and then you’re nipping at Kyle’s neck and jaw.

“Finish inside me,” you whimper, drawing back enough to gaze into his eyes.

Kyle doesn’t need you to say it twice.

Changing position, Kyle slides both hands to the curve of your ass. Lifting, he shifts you until he’s propped up on his knees. Your legs drape over his arms, completely open for him. You cling to him and Kyle brings your bodies together over and over again.

He will finish—he will, but Kyle needs to hear that word first.

“Are you mine?” he asks between clenched teeth. It’s the only thing keeping him steady. He’s ready to snap, ready to release.

You nod and it isn’t enough.

“Say it.”

“Yours.”

“Mine.”

Kyle grinds his pelvis against you, rubbing perfectly across your already sensitive clit. You cry out, clench around him again, but still, he needs to hear you say it.

“What am I to you?”

“Kyle,” you moan, and he laughs.

“Not that.” A little spasm runs through you and Kyle feels it reverberate all the way to his brain. “Won’t give you what you want until you say it.”

You gasp as the next thrust punches the air from your lungs. “Boyfriend,” you manage to whimper. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Fucking right.

Kyle immediately takes you to your back on the couch, thrusting a few more times before pressing taut, sealing your bodies together as his own release overcomes him.

His mouth meets yours and Kyle’s body is singing, pulsing, and bright.

You are his.

You are his.

You are his again.

taglist:

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[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring. 

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances. 

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees. 

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm. 

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove. 

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs. 

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench. 

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!” 

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips. 

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses. 

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier. 

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you. 

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat. 

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours. 

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in. 

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely. 

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner. 

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth. 

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state. 

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

YOU MATCH THE 141 ON TINDER 💓

Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

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I was only going to post these when I finished writing and everything but I'm just... SO FUCKING EXCITED 😭😭

spoiler: Johnny and Kyle are the ones managing Price's account (took covert pics of the captain) but they ask Ghost how to answer the questions and DMs in order to have "the right tone of voice" LMAO

I'll post the actual drabbles soon!!! 🙏

If you'd like to be tagged when this comes out, lmk! (via dm, question or even here) THE TAGLIST IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED, not accepting any more requests! (I'm sorry, there's just too many people on it)

[Read the FIC]

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood Masterlist

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

NAVIGATION PAGE Lore and world building masterlist CRCB Barracks Sims 4 Build Masterlist Support me on Patreon for more bonus content

Divider by: samspenandsword

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction Chapter 2 - Adjustments Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer * Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost Chapter 9 - Save Me Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins* Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together* Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie* Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes * Chapter 17: Alone