#soap

[tame-the-lion-writes]

reader x dog shifter 141 [pt.2]

(If you haven't seen it yet, here's part one.)

It’s been a couple weeks, and you’re starting to catch on to just how smart your dogs are.

Not that you know what they actually are—but they’ve got this weirdly human intelligence behind their eyes, and weirdly human personalities. The Great Dane likes to sit on the recliner in your living room, regal and commanding, often watching your front yard whenever the gardener would come over. The gardener’s son replaced him once for a job, leaving grass cuttings in the driveway, and he was all huffy about it. It amused you at first, but then you realized his judgement wasn’t reserved for strangers. He was even more huffy the time you accidentally burned a steak. (Jeez, since when was he a dad?) Not to mention the empty whiskey glasses he likes to keep around, but that's not right—dogs can't have alcohol, can they?

The German Shepherd, on the other hand, is surprisingly clingy—but not in a bump-into-your-leg or overtly cuddly kind of way. Instead, he follows you while never begging for attention, attentive and patient as though a soldier awaiting orders. You’ve been jump-scared one too many times by his presence, when you think you’re alone and he appears out of thing air. A massive giant of a dog, with paws as silent as a shadow. And he’s stubborn—doesn’t initiate contact, but you swear you’ve caught a subtle bashful glance. Especially when you scratch behind his ears and along the scar of his cheek and chin.

But what the Shepherd lacks in open affection, the Labrador makes up tenfold. He doesn't pester about it, though, simply hopping up to your side on the couch to curl up or placing his muzzle on top of your knees. Still, while probably the most obedient out of the four, you’ve seen him get roped into food heists with the Foxhound, or stalking as closely and silently as the Shepherd. Very much the little brother who tags along with whatever. But you can't stay mad at him for long, either—not when he knows how to apologize—bringing you a freshly chomped-off flower from the backyard whenever you get mad. Then he'll sit at your heels with a faint tail wag, whining 'til you're settled and appeased.

The Foxhound is perhaps the most talkative, in both a noisy and conversational way. His joy is unrelenting around you, and he greats you like you’d expect any other dog. Still, he’s awfully communicative. It’s how you’ve learned their names—with you wandering aloud what to call them, and him making faces at every suggestion. He eventually settled for playing retriever: playing charades by bringing you back bottles and bars of soap. For the Great Dane, he grabbed an old receipt from the trash. For the Shepherd, he threw on a sheet. He seemed awfully confused on what to do for the Labrador, though, and just kept whining as if in apology.

“So Soap, Price, Ghost, and…,” you trail off, glancing at the Labrador with a slight pout. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy. I really don’t know what to call you. And Soap here seems like he’s run out of braincells.”

Ghost snorts in amusement, which is returned by Soap’s unfettered glare.

The next morning, though, there really is no explanation as to how Soap learned the alphabet, how to write, or to arrange your bedsheets in the following name: GAZ.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

"Aha... what the fuck."

Price has face-palmed (face-pawed?) and Ghost just walks over and calmly almost slapstick-esque baps Soap on the head. Meanwhile, Gaz looks dejected, pressing his forehead to the front door, like he's expecting you to kick them out in the next five seconds.

Not that you would, of course—but we can queue the mild horror and existential questioning of what the hell these dogs actually are. You call your friend to rant about your theory—that they could be escapees from a top secret government laboratory, or spies from another country. She just says to enter them into a dog show, or make ‘em celebrities on social media.

[evilgwrl]

What abt 141xpregnant!reader (or not pregnant, ur choice, I dont mind!!) And someone gets into their house and reader is all alone so she calls the boys while they're out (somewhere idk)

can be angst or fluff <3

Thank you for this idea, I hope I did it justice for you anon <3

CW: Threats of violence (not against reader), break ins, fluff

You stared at yourself in the glossy reflection, soaked rag scented with the unmistakable smell of cleaning spray dabbing at the final fingerprint, a satisfied grin on your face. You hobbled to the kitchen, ankles slightly swollen as a hand rubbed against the plushness of your belly, a gentle kick answering you back.

You felt content. You were six months pregnant and surrounded by four incredibly devoted men (who were currently running all the errands you could no longer do). Gentle feet padded against the wooden floorboards, your back humming with a subtle ache as you groaned, your body flopping down against your comfiest pillow.

Wispy lashes fell over curled lids, the zip of a fan hushing you to sleep. You awoke to rustling, your window cracked open for fresh air.

“Stupid foxes,” you muttered, rolling towards the window to shoo the pesky creatures away from your vegetables. Your heart halted, however, face a pasty shade of terror as you watched a figure, much larger than a fox, break the glass to your back door, the stone floor of your patio humming against the shards of crystal.

Pesky fingers reached for your phone, a monotone strain coming from your throat as you phoned for Price, eyes now a glassy bowl of unshed tears.

“Hey love, you ok?” The normally comforting tone only spurred your anxiety as you choked out a sob, an instant call of your name blasting through the speakers of the phone.

“There’s someone inside the house,” you choked out, your voice a mere whisper as you huddled in the corner, fingers twisting the lock on your bedroom door.

“Call Gaz in the meantime; we’ll be home in 10 minutes.”

You were a whimpering mess, swollen body trembling in your ensuite as Gaz attempted to calm you down, telling you the police were on the way. There was a commotion downstairs, kitchenware clattering as you presumed, he was rummaging around. Timber creaked under a lead foot, stairs straining under the man's weight as he stomped upstairs.

“Kyle, he’s upstairs,” you trembled, your throat constricted with a coil of anxiety as your limbs tremored, a protective hand strung across the swell of your belly. The Sergeant’s voice brought you no comfort as you heard the door to the nursery swing open, the squeak of a baby toy rattling against the wood. Your gut was burning, tender hands clutching against the marble counter in a motion to hold yourself up, your knees locking up as you clattered to the floor.

Price’s hands were stained permanent ivory, his knuckles protruding from broken skin as he pulled down your street, head beams flickering at the cars before calloused tyres screeched down a turning lane, the bulky SUV swerving into the driveway. Simon had rummaged through the glovebox on the first ring of your call, massive frame bouldering out of the unparked car as his keys twitched in the door, the steady frame of Soap in toe.

Rough fingers wrapped around carbon steel, silent footsteps thrumming against wallpaper as you shifted in the bathroom, gentle sobs wracking through your body.

You were unaware of what was going on outside your bedroom, the faint sounds of a man’s voice, unrecognisable through the thickness of the walls only spurring anxiety shrill of terror through you.

You knew they would never let anything happen to you, but what if something happened to them in the process? Sure, they were trained for combat but that doesn’t make you invincible.

You clutched your stomach, humming to yourself in an attempt to calm down.

Simon was livid, they all were. The house you had built for them all years ago was now tainted. A place you should be safe in was no longer available.

Soap’s voice was sharp as he entered the nursery, enjoying the twisted satisfaction of watching the intruder still as the safety of the gun unlocked.

“You make a f’cking movement and I’ll put a bullet in ye head, ye hear me?”

There was a slow nod from the man as Ghost entered, slamming him against the wall with a crash, his hands tied behind his back as he lunged him down the stairs. There was a faint echo of sirens in the distance as you sheltered yourself, still unsure of what was happening.

There was a rattle against the door, a soft voice calling out to you.

“It’s just me, love. Open the door.”

The doorknob felt crumbly under your touch, fingers barely able to twist it. Price’s body was warm as he engulfed your shaking figure, wet cheeks staining his shirt in a soppy mess. Thick hands grabbed at the plush of your thighs, lifting you with ease into burly arms, the tickle of his moustache against your ears as he lolled a soft apology to you.

“Shouldn’t ‘ave left you alone dove, feel like I failed you.”

The captain’s heart was bleak, an ephemeral feeling of guilt worn on his shoulder before you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, soggy lips placing a feathery kiss upon the worn skin.

“It’s not your fault, John. Could’ve happened to anyone on our street.”

The night was slow, Gaz consoling the police as Soap and Price comforted you, tending to your every need as Ghost stood outside, dark eyes glaring into the back of the police van at the man. You assured them you were okay, delicate hands rubbing your belly as you cooed, your heart finally returning to its normal bpm.

Once the blaring of red and blue lights simmered to a halt, and Ghost had run out to get a replacement door (otherwise, he wouldn’t have slept from keeping guard all night), you could fully relax. Your body was flush against the comfort of your L-shaped couch and Simon’s calloused back, fingers running through the roots of your hair.

Your eyes succumbed to temporary slumber at the touch, scalp tingling from the simplicity of gentle tugs. You were carried to bed, arms balled at the soft cotton of Soap’s shirt you had stolen. You nestled quickly into the comfort of your bed, lashes flat against your cheeks.

They all watched you, hands folded as they watched the rise of your chest, a flutter of breath leaving your lips every time it fell.

“Beautiful, ain’t she?” Price mumbled, cerulean eyes lapping in the mere sight of you, a proud glow comforting him knowing you were theirs.

“Damn right,” Ghost grunted.

There was a creak against the floorboards as your eyes opened, your voice delicate with sleep, “Will you guys stay tonight? All of you? Please.”

“Shoot us in the head if we ever say no to anything you say,” Soap uttered, a gentle slap whacking around his head from Simon as Kyle leaned into the bed, heavy hands immediately wrapping around your swell belly.

The night ended with whispers of affirmation and one happy girl.

[angel5ofp0rn]

thinking about the 141 as daddies of babies with afro hair 🙂‍↕️

Gaz would know the basics, naturally, and would take the extra time to make sure his babies always have their hair right. he reminds them how beautiful their hair is and how important it is to take the extra time and care to keep it healthy. if you’re not used to caring for their hair type, he’s very patient in teaching you the basics and hypes you up every time you do their hair on your own.

Price would shyly stumble into a black salon and ask for tips and tutorials on how to care for his children’s hair. he’d make sure he had all the right tools, products, accessories, etc. and make sure he knows how to use them. he does a piss poor job at styling it, and you always end up having to fix it anyway, but at least he tries.

Soap goes all in. he has his babies sat in front of him, and a youtube tutorial in front of them both, and he’s putting in the work. tongue sticking out as he braids and twists and, surprisingly, it turns out better than anyone expected— except him. he was confident from the get go. now it’s your turn, bonnie; boho braids or knotless box braids? i saw a lass earlier with her hair like this—

Ghost is standing by the shampoo bowl, arms crossed, at his children’s biweekly hair appointment telling the hairdresser that money is no object, just make his babies happy. he’s stocking up on bonnets, silk pillow cases, whateverthefuck that is that makes their hair smell so good and makes his li’l girl’s curls look shiny, the way she likes. he has their ipads charged up for their long appointments and is going in and out of the salon to fetch various snacks and drinks for the kids and the hairstylists taking care of them.

[gothghostiie]

Hi I need your beautiful brain for this. I get very very painful boobs in the lead up to my period and the only thing that helps is if I squish them a bit. I think hilarity would ensue if reader were to tell the 141 boys the same thing after they ask why she's squishing her own boobs.

ahhh i get that!! thats such a sucky symptom honestly 🥲

but honestly, once you tell the boys theyre all over it. whether you're intimate with them or not, you won't get their hands off your tits in that time.

surprisingly ghost and gaz are the ones who are genuinely just trying to help you, only wanting you to feel better (plus,,, boobs. who doesn't like them?)

but soap and price are a little more perverted about it than they'd like. of course the main factor is that it helps you but... neither of them can deny the tents in their pants, yk?

[yumethefrostypanda]

John

so veiny

[machveil]

Johnny plays The Sims and is an absolute madman

Johnny thinks The Sims is the best game - not because of the genre or graphics, but because he can be a little bastard and make them do silly things. he’s the type to put someone in a walled off pool and then save them at the last minute

Johnny has absolutely made his teammates into Sims just so he could laugh about it. gets a good chuckle out of dressing them up in silly outfits, sometimes he journals about what goofy thing he made his Sims teammates do

Johnny makes the most outrageous house designs. his floor plans are terrible and he’s constantly broke from buying nicknacks and items. he almost killed his Sims lookalike because he forgot to feed him

Johnny has half a mind to send clips he’s recorded of the Sims team to Gaz - he knows he’d probably get a kick out of it. Johnny is always trying to break the game and find glitches, he just wants to see what shenanigans he can pull off

(Johnny would absolutely play RollerCoaster Tycoon)

[teddypines]

To Scotland, (the aftermath part 2)

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Summary: The team made it to Scotland in one piece, getting the warmest welcome from the MacTavish family. It was time for healing, some fun and little outings.

Note: Soap's place of birth and his parents names are made up by me and my friend, because i couldn't find anything canon, so headcanon it is. Also part 3 will get more little outings and maybe more.

The aftermath part 1

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Location: Scotland, Stirling, countryside near Drip Bridge. Soap’s parents home.

Date: November 4th 20XX

Soap’s mom, Fiona, walked down the porch as Johnny walked over to the house with some of the bag’s. “Johnny, sweetpea!” She yelled while opening her arms for a hug. “Hey, mom.” Johnny answered once he let go of the bag’s and was safely in his mothers arms. “Missed ya, Mom.”

John walked over to Johnny and his mother with the other bag’s while Simon and Y/N helped Kyle walk after them. “OWh and look at them, you sure picked them out didn’t ya.” Fiona marveled as she looked at the others. “You three sure are handsome and you dear are an angel.” Fiona complimented the other four. “Now come in, come in, you all are probably tired from your trip here and everything that happened before. I have tea and cake inside.” 

After Fiona got to hug and greet everyone and the bags were all inside and taken care of. Everyone gathered into the living room, Johnny quickly sat down in his usual spot before helping his mom with tea and the cake. Fiona made her famous apple pie for everyone, wanting them to feel welcome and loved.

Kyle was still a bit out of it, the pain meds were less heavy but his mind was still a bit foggy. He lay his head onto Y/N’s shoulder as he sat between her and John, nice and safe as the others talked over tea. Of course Soap’s dad, Callum, wanted to know everything about the mission, the escape and what happened at the safehouse. He didn’t get everything he wanted to know, but he got what the team was allowed to tell family and loved ones.

<-------------------------------------------------->

After tea and cake everyone took it easy. John took Kyle upstairs for a nap, because the poor man really needed one. Simon joined Kyle after about 45 minutes. He needed a nap too. Fiona went to work on dinner, wanting to make a feast for her son’s safe return home and to celebrate his loved ones. Y/N went with Johnny and his dad to check on the animals and John started helping Fiona after a while of letting Kate know everything was okay in Scotland.  

Of course Y/N adored the sheep the MacTavish family kept. They were all so fluffy and adorable, like little walking clouds. Johnny was lucky when he caught the moment of Y/N holding one of the younger sheep in her lap on camera. Saving it for a rainy day and sharing it with the boy’s in their private group chat. Callum only loved it that Johnny’s partner loved the sheep just as much as he and his family did.

Monty, the barn cat, got the same kind of attention from Y/N as the sheep did. But Monty got the privilege of going back inside with Johnny, Callum and Y/N, while the sheep had to stay inside the barn for the night. 

Dinner was nice and homey. It did bother Simon a bit and even John was struggling with this loving and warm feeling a parent could give. Fiona’s food was delicious as always and to her own delight there were no leftovers. Y/N helped Johnny with the dishes as the others went to do their own thing again until tea time.

<-------------------------------------------------->

The moment Johnny’s head hit his pillow something felt wrong. He was so used to having his loved ones in the same big bed as him when they were out of the field. Yet now he lay alone in his childhood bed, it just felt wrong. Even Though the others where in the two bedrooms across the hall, he missed them. Their warmth and closeness. Johnny was debating on going to one of the bedrooms to sleep there, but he was shaken out of his thoughts when his door opened. 

“Johnny?” Y/N whisper asked once she got closer to the bed. Johnny slowly nodded his head. “What is it, bonnie?” “I can’t sleep… Kyle moved to sleep with Simon and John and I feel so cold without one of you next to me.” Y/N answered. Johnny quickly opened the covers for Y/N and let her crawl into bed with him. They didn’t need words to understand what they both needed. And thus Johnny rubbed Y/N’s thigh as she hugged him. The two of them fell asleep like this, both not so cold and lonely anymore.

<--------------------------------------------------->

Location: Scotland, Stirling, countryside near Drip Bridge. Soap’s parents home.

Date: November 5th 20XX

Today was an easy chill day. The most everyone did was the necessary things, like taking care of Kyle and the animals. There was time to take it easy and to not worry about doing everything in a short time limit. It was nice, Johnny updated his journal. Simon was watching tv with Kyle and John was taking an old man nap with Callum. Y/N took the time to call her family. Telling them she is safe in Scotland and that Kyle and Simon are getting better by the day.

Later that day, around tea time Johnny was looking through the list of dvd’s. “Mom? Do you still have that one movie? You know the one used to love as a kid?” Johnny asked as he tried to find something to watch. “The one with the dog’s or the one with Hugh Jackman as a rat?” Fiona answered from the kitchen. “The one with the dog, but the scary one.” Johnny answered. This interaction confused John a bit, but he also loved it. He knew Johnny could communicate in a nonsensical way that made sense at the same time, but he never saw it happen like this. He saw it happen with Simon and Y/N, but that was different from this with Fiona.

“You mean the one with the penguin?” Callum asked Johnny as he looked back at his son. “What? No, it was a chicken right? Right?” Johnny asked, now even more confused than before. “It was a penguin, he just looked like a chicken because of the glove on his head and you are looking for 'Wallace and Gromit in the wrong trouser.'” Y/N answered, not even looking up from her phone. “And no, I did not just google this.”

Johnny slowly nodded his head. “Yeah.. That one.” He responded before searching for it in the dvd stand. “How? How do you know that is the film I was talking about?” Johnny asked after a long moment of silence. “I watched those too as a kid.” Y/N answered with a shrug. She shifted a bit, making Kyle groan. “Sorry, love.” Y/N whispered to Kyle. “Besides it’s a national treasure, not knowing Wallace and Gromit is like not knowing the queen. And not everyone on the team had a shittie childhood, Johnny. No offense Simon.” Simon just nodded. “None taken”

“Sooo… What is this I hear about Hugh Jackman as a rat?” Kyle asked as he shifted his head against Y/N’s thigh. Johnny turned red as Kyle asked him about the Hugh Jackman rat. Fiona could only smile as she walked into the living room with a tray and everything for tea and a movie on it. “Well, Kyle, Somewhere in the early years of Johnny’s life he watched an animated movie about sewer rats with the male lead being voiced by Hugh Jackman. My baby boy had to watch the movie every weekend and once he found out Hugh Jackman was in it he had to watch every movie with him in it. Some might say Johnny boy had a crush and a gay awakening.” Johnny whined in embracement. “Mom~ Stop! They don’t need to know about that” Johnny said only for everyone to laugh at his reaction. 

“I get it, Johnny boy. Mister Hughs Jacked Man is very nice to look at.” Y/N said as she started to run her hand through Kyle’s hair. “Yeah and he was totally hot in Australia, the movie not the country.” Kyle agreed. “And in X-Men.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it, just stop!” Johnny whined and hid his head in his hand. Fiona could only laugh. “Owh and don’t forget your little crush on that Legolas guy.”

“No! mom! Shush! Don’t tell them about that!”

“Legolas, hu?” John asked with a teasing smirk on his face. “He is a very handsome man, elf, okay?!” Johnny answered. “No no, you're right, Legolas is very handsome.” John reassured Johnny. “I really liked that Aragorn fella,” Simon commented to which Fiona nodded. “I agree with that, Aragorn is a good man.” 

And so the rest of the evening was spent talking about celebrity men, and women and the plants the team had for the next day. 

<--------------------------------------------------->

Location: Scotland, Stirling, Stirling castle.

Date: November 6th 20XX

Y/N had the little map and info brochure in hand as John paid for the tickets. It was like Y/N was the mom with how much she had to look up to make sure Johnny and Simon didn’t get into any trouble with the other people that were walking around the castle. Kyle looked over Y/N’s shoulder and smiled. “Can we go there after looking around the castle?” He asked as he pointed at a little café icon on the map. “Yeah, sure, wait… You really want to go to the Unicorn Café?” Y/N asked to which Kyle nodded. “Yes, besides it’s the only café they have here.”

Simon and Johnny gathered around Y/N and Kyle. “We are going into the little shop’s right?” Johnny asked. “Of course we are.” John answered as he came back with the tickets. “Now, one rule boy’s. Do not touch it if it doesn’t say you can touch it.” The boy’s nodded their heads and Y/N giggled. “So I can touch everything?” she asked with a cheeky smile on her face. “Oi, don’t get smart with me Princess.” John warned before taking Y/N’s hand and leading her to the castle like she was it’s queen.

[coffeegraeme]

Johnny?

[ghostmoon1]

Hehe silly (realised I forgot Ghosts tat… oops..)

Speed paint + ref image

Found the reference I,age on Pinterest!

[tame-the-lion-writes]

For the dog!141 pack. Reader getting wine drunk at home and them taking care of her. It would be so cuteeeeee

Yes pls keep feeding me w fluff ideas I love you

“And— and— he’s such an asshole!”

Gaz and Price side-eye each other as you sob, a babbling mess on the floor of the kitchen. It had been a tough week at work, and now the straw had broken the camel’s back. A snide comment from your coworker, a mild correction from your boss. It all came to a head when one of your jeans’ belt loops got stuck in the handle of your door, and you’d angrily wrenched yourself away, only to fall flat on your face.

It was straight to the liquor cabinet from there.

Granted, you were never a heavy drinker. Maybe a sip or two during social outings, but you’d never drank to get drunk. Not until tonight. Which is probably why the four looks looked so concerned, Soap lying across your legs while you ranted aimlessly, hiccups and stutters choking your words. You’re halfway through your third glass of wine when the exhaustion starts to hit, and Price nudges the glass out of your hands with a disciplinary chuff.

“Oh, great,” you slur, tippy toeing on the edge of sleep. “Now you’re starting to judge me, too.”

The next few seconds are a blur. You swear you can hear someone speaking. A voice gruff yet soft, and an answer that follows—a voice even lower. And you can swear that you’re being picked up, cradled, carried off to bed to the sound of steady footsteps.

“Take care of us, but y’ can’t take care of yourself, huh, love?” the guardian angel asks. In response, you make a pathetic noise at the back of your throat, leaning into the crook of his neck, where barely, just barely, you can make out scars that mimic those on your Shepherd.

“Ghost?” you mumble, only to giggle at the possibility. A dog shapeshifting into a man? How silly.

“Just go to sleep, love. We’ll be here for ya in the morning.”

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Nine

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Attempted suicide, unknown watching as someone gets changed, SIMON BEING THE CUTEST MAN ALIVE, kissing and bum spanking

Taglist: @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan

ANYTHING IN ITALICS IS A FLASHBACK

Masterlist

The summer air was a broil of wet leaves and burnt tar, roads simmering with clouded fogs of steam that snipped at the exposed flesh of your leg. Your bike was worn, tyres nearly flat from the consistent rummaging of scarred rocks tearing the innocent rubber into a battered mess.

Your legs were inflamed from the constant use, thighs straining against bones and weathered skin. Sweat stuck to you in a damp layer, the occasional fly suckling at the salty residue. There was a gentle strum of moans, ripped jaws sloshing against rotten teeth, skin a ghastly contrast against the greenery. They didn’t care for you, walking past you like you were one of them.

It was a sick punishment.

You thought back to the first couple of days after. After Vienna. Steel supported rough fingers, muzzle pointed under your chin, the chill of cold tickling down your throat, trapping your oesophagus with an arrogant choke. Nimble fingers unclicked the safety, a line of tears streaming down your face pathetically.

You didn’t do it. You weren’t sure which was weaker, staying or leaving.

Blood ran through your chest, beating down to the tips of your wrists, eyes gauging through the flesh as if you had x-ray vision. You would no doubt be scorned with blisters later, the sun kissing you with fat welts filled with liquid medicine as you rolled in used sheets, unable to sleep.

You stared down the winding road, a companion of butchered shops lined up by the corner, untouched. It wasn’t rare for you to venture far, always taking a main road that would eventually lead you home.

You pushed through glass doors, majority of the crystal shattered across the concrete. There was a gentle ding of a bell as you entered, a lone zombie trailing towards the noise, disappointed at the sudden disappearance of its senses as you smashed a blade into the centre of its head, the stench of death filling the shop as you gagged. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to the smell.

The store was disappointing at the front, but you knew the stock room held liquid gold. Your knees skidded over the counter, a till smashed across the floor as you laughed. You wriggled the STAFF ONLY door, your shoulders working to barge it open. There were unopened boxes of candy that caught your attention, sticky tape quickly stuck to the wall as you delved through, a child-like innocence adorning your face as you tore apart a chocolate wrapper.

A sick moan of satisfaction ran through you as you stuffed more bars in your bag, teeth rotting with gooey caramel. Your feet padded against the floor, achy limbs begging for a rest as you sat down on a bench, uncomfortable wood barely supporting you. You scoffed back an apple, a small container full of buttered bread soon resting in your stomach.

You groaned as you chugged the majority of your water, the liquid quenching the Sahara in your throat as it stained your chest, a light dribble working down your chin as you sighed. Eyes stared at the bike resting against a brick wall as you looked up, noticing the flock of birds make their way through the sky, gradual darkness soon blending into the baby blue.

Dirtied nails scraped against the glass of your final destination, a small boutique with a flickering sign greeting you with the smell of dust as you pushed the door open. Nimble fingers worked your sweaty top off as you tried clothes on, wiping the grotty mirror down with an ugly rag of a shirt.

Dark eyes watched you from a rooftop, covered face twisting into a scowl as he watched you prod at yourself in the mirror. Your flesh was greasy, a sweet shine covering your muscles as he fixated on the way you moved. He stared at you through the lens of a sniper before placing it next to him as you walked out, bag round with clothes and the minimal amount of food you could find.

You didn’t notice him, his body stealthy as he adjusted, eyes immersed in you as you rode off. They would head your way tomorrow, he decided.

Thick hands ploughed at the wood; an axe gripped between his fingers as you watched him intensely. Your eyes gawked at his biceps, chiselled muscles bulging under the sun, a glisten against his skin from his work.

“That enough?” His voice was thick, a mixture of molten and sweet honey lacing him. His aura was earthy and masculine, his need to prove himself to you evident as he looked to you for approval.

“Good enough for me,” you replied, attempting to grab a log of wood before he barked that he would do it, snatching it from your grip.

Your eyebrows twisted up in annoyance as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not useless, I was the one doing this before you all came along.”

“Didn’t mean to offend you, sweet’art, just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

It was impressive watching him work; his forearms stuffed full of wood as he placed it in the small collector next to the fireplace. This was your first time being alone with him, his large frame was intimidating at first, but his shitty dad jokes couldn’t help but pull a smile from you.

You pulled him into the barn, introducing him to your cows, Daisy and Ted. He wasn’t fond of the names, but he felt himself nodding, watching the way you greeted them like they could speak, eyes full of admiration at the way you handled yourself.

“I’m hoping she gets pregnant, she’s my lifesaver,” you cooed, swatting the cow gently against her rump as she huffed out a breath. Simon raised a brow at you, a cocky smirk against his face.

“Don’t think about it,” you scowled as he turned around. Quick hands swatted at his ass as he grunted. Ghost was trained for anything, his hands at your waist as you squealed, quickly thrown over his shoulder with a huff before you were dropped in a bale of hay, endless giggles wracking through your chest as he peered down at you with a grumpy look.

You noticed his eyes crinkle as your laughter slowly subsided, both of you staring at each other with an amused look. His hands stilled at your waist, gripping them slightly with a warming touch.

“What’s your real name?”

He paused for a moment, thumb rubbing at your rising tummy, a pool of butterflies sinking into every crevice of the muscle. “Simon.”

You repeated it several times back to him, enjoying the way it fell from your lips as battered eyes focused on them, watching the way your tongue wriggled in the heat of your mouth as you spoke.

“You like it?” He asked, voice lower with nerves. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous. But he was.

You nodded at him, glancing from his eyes down to his mouth. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, bringing his hand to your cheek as your mouth opened slightly, eyes never leaving his. He paused, ready to turn away from you.

He didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in, pushing the mask down his chin in a rough manner before he kissed you, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip before easing it into your throat. He was strangely gentle, almost like he was scared to hurt you. The Lieutenant’s hands gripped your face as you pulled him in by the scruff of his neck, deepening the motion. 

His eyes were voids of burnt sugar, a hinge of toffee speckling through as they merged into his iris. He was warm and inviting, the slight tang of his saliva running through your taste buds as he welcomed the sensation of you, a hand dropping to your throat with a delicate squeeze. 

Simon pulled away with a slight gasp, catching the breath he wasn’t sure he was holding.

“I don’t want to rush you.”

You only smiled and brought him back in.

[aloehandsanitizer]

l’oréal kids shampoo pngs

[gothghostiie]

I need Transmasc!141 to tie me up and fuck me like they hate me. I need Ghost to shove my face into his messy cunt and grind like he’s trying to kill me

hhh. yes.

cw: cnc, degrading, bondage, impact play (slapping, spanking, all that jazz), facesitting, strap ons, poly!141

mmm. they're so brutal when they want to be. usually they're happy with you just being passed around to eat pussy or ride straps, but who would they be to deny you when you ask them to step it up? after a long discussion of what, where, when, boundaries and safewords you settle on a little cnc, they just grab you whenever and have their fun with it.

it takes a while, they only do it after their next mission together. theyre all still on edge, adrenaline pumping through their veins - so they make a beeline to your quarters. the door flies open, youre suddenly being held down and tied up with ropes and zip ties, struggling until you realise whats happening. finally. you're being groped all over, clothes cut and ripped off, spanked wherever they can get some slaps in. god knows they prepared for this long ago, some quickly putting on their straps they stashed here a long time ago, others too busy with spreading your legs and playing with your throbbing sex.

price is the first one to shove his strap inside you, turning you on your back to make sure you can watch whats happening. he immediately ruts into you harshly, making you see stars from the sheer force of it, but god you wouldn't have it any other way. he talks dirty to you, telling you what a massive fucking slut you are for letting everyone use you like this. youre almost unable to listen over your own moans, especially when you see kyle kneel down behind price, knowing damn well hes helping his captain cum. prices moans get louder than they were anyway, kyles fingers brushing against your stuffed hole every now and then, fucking with your head as he acts like he might just add them too. soap isnt helping either, going down on your poor clit/cock and sucking it, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nerves. you're unable to even cum at this point, its too much, too good, youre overstimulated all over.

but of course its not done with this, the momemt price cums they switch places, with kyle now fucking you. his strap is longer, not stretching you out as much but brushing spots that make you howl. his hands dig into your thighs, a grin on his lips at the noises you're making - even though they're about to be muffled by ghost. he gets close, climbing on top of you and straddling your face briefly before properly sitting down. he's grinding his sopping cunt into your face roughly, rocking his hips while looking down at you, gritting his teeth. you can barely breathe, moans and cries vibrating against his pussy as gaz keeps fucking you, soap continuing his assault on your cock/clit. and you know damn well none of them are getting off of you until you tap out or pass out.

[miamaimania]

Encased in resin, 840 bars of soap stand frozen in time 🧖‍♀️꩜

[machveil]

okay CoD Tumblr, I’m writing the fics I want to read so you get to decide the pairing lol