#soap mactavish imagine

[inkbybambi]

chemistry teacher soap catches gym teacher simon fucking you in the bathroom during a school dance, tattooed hand over your mouth to muffle the pretty noises you make. he doesn’t think either of you notice, until those dark eyes turn on him, a slight tilt to his head in invitation.

soap decides he has a better way of keeping you quiet, stuffing his cock down your throat, enjoying the way you choke on it and the way simon tugs him forward to lick into his mouth, a hum of approval low in his throat.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I loved the recent "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" imagine....what about...

Calling your boyfriend husband on ACCIDENT? 😍🤭

By the time that I'm actually getting around to this, "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" is now no longer recent. Oops! Sorry! (If you want to read that imagine you can find it here.) But is it really an accident? I feel like it could honestly be both, but the accident factor would make the whole thing so much cuter!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): fluff, brief alcohol, suggestive themes, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Can you help me, John?”

“Yeah, love. Give me a minute.”

The counter top is covered in groceries. It’s the first big day in the new apartment with John. The two of you have been dating for a few years now, but this is the first time you’ve properly lived together.

John comes around the corner in nothing but a pair of shorts. He’s a bit sweaty from building furniture.

“There’s ice cream. Don’t want it to melt.”

“Course.” He gives you a quick kiss before digging through the bags, removing items as he goes.

The two of you work seamlessly, putting away all the groceries quickly.

“Give me a kiss.”

John grins, and goes in for a tooth-achingly sweet one.

“Thanks, hubby.”

The word is out without thought. You don’t even realize you’ve said it until John blinks, a bit startled.

“Hubby?”

You don’t know what to say. You’re staring at him, a bit flustered.

But John smiles. He leans in, stealing another kiss. “You want to marry me?”

“Do you want to marry me?” you counter.

“You proposing?” teases John.

“Stop answering my question with a question.”

John chuckles and pulls you close. “Wifey sounds good on you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“The husband will love this!”

Husband slips out naturally, as if you and Kyle have always been together. The two of you have been dating for years, but there is no marriage. There isn’t even an engagement. But Kyle isn’t around to hear the slip up—at least, you don’t think so.

The store assistant smiles. “Happy to help,” she says brightly before walking away.

You exhale slowly, and turn around, nearly smacking into Kyle.

“Holy shit,” you say, placing your hand on your chest. “You startled me.”

Kyle has a smirk on his face with arms crossed over his chest. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“That I swore?” you ask, perplexed.

“No,” he laughs. “You called me your husband.”

Oh shit.

“You heard that?”

Kyle leans in as if he’s about to tell you a secret. “I did.”

“And?” you prompt, trying to brush this off as nothing.

Kyle shrugs. “Think I like it.”

You blink. “You like it.”

Kyle glances around but there isn’t anyone nearby. He takes a step into your space, lowering his head as if to kiss you. “Say it again.”

You lick your lips. “Husband.”

“Again.”

“Husband.”

Kyle closes the distance, stealing a kiss.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Across the pub, your boyfriend is ordering drinks at the bar.

The two of you are enjoying a free weekend. They are few since Simon is always working—always off on some mission.

What isn’t all that nice is the woman talking to Simon at the bar. He’s politely ignoring her, but she clearly cannot take a hint. She’s smiling at Simon like she wants to climb him. Plus, you’re feeling bold. You have a few drinks in you at this point. The liquor is hot. It is poison.

And you’re ready to strike. Show some fangs.

You stride toward the bar, shoving yourself between the woman and Simon. Wrapping your arms around Simon’s waist, you snuggle up to him.

“Hello, husband,” you croon.

Simon’s mouth quirks with amusement as the woman behind you snorts and makes a flippant remark.

Going up on your toes, you reach for a kiss, and Simon obliges. It is slow. Wet. Way too intimate for such a public setting. You kiss him like you’re starved.

When the two of you part, the woman is gone.

Simon’s hand dives, grabbing your ass in a possessive hold. “Husband?”

“It slipped.”

“Sure it did, love,” laughs Simon.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“This is John. My husband.”

Husband.

The word slips out and you’re not able to draw it back. You can’t correct yourself. Not in front of your peers. You’ve fumbled this completely.

Johnny’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline, his gaze pointed as he glances at you. But he doesn’t correct you either, and you decide to roll with it.

“That’s lovely,” replies your boss. “How long have you two been married?”

This is a new job. It’s the first company party you’re attending, and bringing a plus one is encouraged.

But you’re not able to answer. Johnny steps up and takes the lead.

“Newly,” he says, grinning like it’s true.

Your boss laughs. “That accent! My goodness. Scottish?”

“Aye. Born and bred.”

“How lovely.”

Johnny inclines his head. His hand delicately grabs your arm, pulling you in. “Pleasure meeting you.”

The two of you move on, but Johnny takes a turn, drawing you to the side, his head lowered.

“Husband?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“It slipped out,” you mutter.

“Your coworkers are gonna think you’re a married woman.”

“I know.”

“Should make it official,” shrugs Johnny.

“What?”

He lightly bumps your shoulder with his own. “You heard me.”

[dmitriene]

cw: exhibitionism and voyeurism.

johnny mctavish is as horny as a dog during rutting season, but instead of humping legs he humps your pussy, any time he wants and everywhere he pleases, eyes glistening blue and wrinkling with melted smile, his hand shoved unabashedly between your legs, cupping your mound in his warm palm.

he ain't ashamed to finger your tight cunt until you're drooling on the wooden table of the café you sat in, thinking naively that you'll stop here just to drink some hot drinks and enjoy the treats, just until his fingers moved towards the zipper of your pants, teasing across the sewed line of fabric.

not even the possible public can stop johnny, he'll just snatch you away from the table you sat at, during some chilly evening in the pub with his mates from the task force, since you're too pretty for just to look at, with his cock swelling hot and throbbing beneath his pants, unable to wait any longer.

he'd fuck you in the restroom, in the locked toilet stall with your cunt stuffed full of his thick cock, dripping slick that seeps down to his trimmed pubic hair and tight balls, pulsing walls painfully tight around the throbbing girth of him as he pummels in and out of your gooey warmth, little muffled moans still escaping your lips.

piercing the air in the restroom, making men that just went in there to wash their hands freeze, understanding very well what happens in one of the stalls, rumbling out so you'll find a room, but the way your blood pressure rise, pussy tightening up, johnny is quick to whine a husky moan and scare them off.

it's should be humiliating to be caught like that, but you can't stop your eyes from rolling back at the frantic movements of johnny's hips, making your pussy so wet that each glide of cock inside of you is squelching, the pitchy mewls that escape your lips is making everything too loud, but johnny purrs it's their problem for listening.

and it is, it's also simon's problem for slipping in the stall next to yours, fisting his rudy cock in a tight grip of calloused palm that stains his calloused fingers with pearly precum, chewing at his stinging lips to silence his groans, rippling out to answer your little breathy sounds, cock throbbing when he hears the lewd slap of skin on skin, wishing he could do more than jerk off.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[multific]

Til Death Finds Us

Johnny MacTavish x Reader

Summary: Everyone told him you were dead. Soap buried you in his heart and tried to move on. 

The explosion tore through the sky like a scream.

Soap hit the dirt hard, ears ringing, vision swimming. There was shouting over the comms, static bursts, and the sound of his own name barked through clenched teeth.

But your voice never came through.

Not once.

When the dust cleared and they dragged out what remained, it wasn’t you.

All that was left was your dog tags.

Burnt. Bent. Bloodied.

He held them in his hand for hours. Refused to let go. Refused to believe.

They told him you were gone. Confirmed KIA. 

A body unrecoverable in enemy territory.

Ghost gripped his shoulder. “You can’t save ghosts, Johnny.”

But you weren’t a ghost.

You were his.

And the world felt wrong without you in it.

Three months later, a command calls him in.

A recon team swept a compound in hostile territory. 

They found a prisoner.

Identified only by a faint tattoo. A scar behind the ear. A voice that barely worked.

It was you.

Alive.

Soap’s hands shook when he saw the file. The photo. 

Your eyes, sunken and hollow, but still yours.

“I’m going,” he said before they could even ask.

The rescue was fast. Violent. Clean.

Soap moved like a man possessed. Didn’t stop until he had you in his arms.

You didn’t speak.

You just looked at him like you weren’t sure if he was real.

“Got you now, Bonnie,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You flinched when he touched your hand and it damn near broke him.

Back on base, you barely spoke.

You didn’t sleep unless the lights were on. You didn’t eat unless someone reminded you. You didn’t cry and that scared him most.

You weren’t the same. But, he wasn’t either.

The man who came back with you had learned to live without his heart.

And now that it was beating again, it hurt.

Still, he stayed. Every night.

He didn’t push.

He brought you tea. Sat in the corner of your room. Told you stories about the dog he almost adopted. 

The mission which went sideways. The new guy who reminded him of you.

You didn’t laugh.

But you listened.

And one night, when the storm outside sounded too much like war, you reached for him.

It was uncertain. Broken. Healing.

You curled into his chest like you were afraid he'd vanish.

He held you like you were the most fragile thing he'd ever touched.

“Johnny…” you whispered, voice barely there.

He closed his eyes. “There you are.”

“I’m not me anymore,” you confessed. “I don’t know how to be.”

“You’re still mine,” he said softly. “And I’ll wait as long as it takes to bring you back.”

The first time you kissed again, it was in the quiet of the med wing.

Your lips trembled. 

Your hands clung to his shirt. You kissed like it might be the last moment you remembered how.

But it was enough.

He kissed you like a promise.

“Love you,” he whispered against your mouth. “Always did.”

Tears slipped from your eyes and this time, you let them fall.

You were still here.

He was still yours.

You didn’t go back to who you were.

Neither did he.

But every night, he helped you sleep. Every morning, you woke to his voice and his hand in yours.

You learned to laugh again.

He grinned like a man reborn every time.

And when you told him you loved him, he kissed your fingers like they were gold.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered. “But we made it.”

You nodded. “Til death finds us.”

He smiled. “And not a bloody second sooner.”

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[etclouie]

hey love, would it be possible to get the prompt below with johnny please? it’s from the smut prompts of 150

“this isn’t what i had in mind when i yelled fuck you.”

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; “this isn’t what i had in mind when i yelled fuck you” — from 150 prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; established relationship, smut with no plot, mdni 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie(are we surprised??), probably poorly written (mbmb) that’s it tho

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; i only have six reqs left🙏

— thank you for celebrating 600 with me || submissions are now closed

Johnny had you sprawled out across the bed, hips slapping against yours at a bruising pace. 

his left hand grabbed at the headboard while his right squeezed at your hip, each thrust pushing you closer to the headboard. 

“Johnny—“

you mewled, hands reaching for his shoulders to pull him towards you and into a kiss. his tongue pushed past your lips to dance with yours, while his thrusts grew slow and teasing. 

whining at the sudden loss of his pace, breaking the kiss to pout up at him which made him chuckle. 

“quit teasing”

you told, hooking a finger into his dog tags to pull him back down to you. 

he moved both of his arms to lay on either side of your head, his pace slowly picking up again as he whispered in your ear. 

“thought you wanted me to fuck you, no?”

the words were laced with a teasing tone, which made your lip jut out further. 

wrapping your arms around his neck and raking one hand across his back, drawing a deep groan from his throat at the feeling and his hips rolled deeper again. 

your walls fluttered around him, the coil wound tight and your body growing impossibly warmer. 

“this isn’t what i had in mind when i yelled fuck you”

another chuckle fell from his lips, before he shook his head. sitting up on his knees again and pulling your legs tighter around his waist, angling his hips and hitting deeper with every thrust. 

with the way your walls fluttered tighter around him he knew you were close, and he was determined to push you over the edge. even if he teased you the whole way. 

“och, know you always want me like this”

he told while continuing to thrust into you, each thrust sending you spiralling closer and closer to the edge. 

you met his eyes and a mischievous twinkle sparked in them, he leaned down to kiss across your chest and boobs. sucking one of your nipples between his lips and lapping at the peaked bud, drawing breathy moans from your lips. 

“oh fuck! Johnny—“

you mewled, clamping down around him while your back arched up into him. 

he smirked against your chest, letting go of your nipple with a wet pop and trailing his kisses up your body until he was whispering in your ear. 

“tha’s it, cum for me”

his hips rolled one more time against you and it had the coil in your belly snapping, cumming with a cry of his name. 

nails scratching across his back as your cunt spasmed around him, squeezing him tightly as he groaned in your ear. 

following you over the edge, he spilled himself inside without warning. his chest heaving and his breathing laboured, his hips slowing as he worked you both through the highs of your release. 

a dopey grin across his face, keeping himself buried inside while he whispered teasingly against your ear once more. 

“prettiest fuckin’ girl in the world, always cummin’ when i tell her to”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[konigsblog]

How much do you think soap would let the reader dominate?

cw: mentions of cuckolding.

soap doesn't mind allowing you to become dominant, but he prefers also having dominance, as well.

johnny will allow you to taunt and tease his orgasm, to drag it out and fuck with his mind, hyperventilating with his musky boxers shoved in his mouth and a blindfold over his wet, tear filled eyes. his body jerks and twitches with each gentle gesture you make with your hands, teasing and rubbing at his sensitive, wet tip, leaking down your fingertips and coating them in globs of his milky arousal.

he huffs and groans painfully, tears absorbed by the thick material of the blindfold, yet his cheeks flushed. feeling your hand glide down his thick, veiny shaft causes him to howl out through pleasure, body quivering and his hips rutting against your hand... :(

johnny is into being submissive and ridiculed, being a cuckold and watching his girlfriend get fucked, sucking off another man while maintaining eye contact with horny, perverted johnny...

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

Chapters: 8/? (so far) Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games), Call of Duty, modern warfare Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Domestic, Roommates, Civilian!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Bad Humor, Funny, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Best Friends, Romantic Friendship, Mutual Pining, Comedy, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Eventual Romance, and they were ROOMMATES, oh my god they were roommates, Slow Burn, Slow Build Summary:

You're roommates with Sergeant John "Soap" Mactavish. A man you thought you'd never fall for. You were such close friends when he wasn't on deployment, and even then, you miss him, dearly. So you write him a letter, telling him to come back home safe

Wanted to post it on AO3 too. You can read there if you prefer :)

[cherubclover]

Imagine during the Trojan Horse mission, you are undercover as Soap's girlfriend and one of the 'blend in' actions Soap does is kiss the reader 👀

[wintervalewritersecond]

requests are OPEN!

hi! long time no see, but i hope to be back again! its been a while, and my requests are completely open again!

for characters from stranger things, wednesday, and a new addition, call of duty! <3

i have some ideas for fics (maybe an extra chapter from siren song [which is almost a year ago since i last posted about it], cod ghost corpse bride au, second part of 'up and gone', eddie munson halloween pranks, maybe some angst, all that stuff...) but please let me know if you have any requests!

[rottingpink]

cod men with fussy wives

cw. fluff, innuendo, cunnilingus, lovemaking, reader is a bit insufferable but she means well. SMUT

synopsis. price, simon and johnny with very naggy wives who show them love and care they've never experienced before

masterlist

john price

john is the typical gruff, stern guy who knows when to be serious, calm, or regulated, but around his wife, all he is is soft. he spends all day gritting his teeth during combat, pushing through with wounds the size of golf balls and scolding recruits when they fuck up, and so when he's on leave for a few days to see you, all he wants to do is relax, make love to you, eat your cooking, and maybe go fishing or do some home renovations. you, however, have a different plan. you're on his ass the second he gets home. not that he minds too much. you're too beautiful to be annoyed at.

he's sitting on the couch trying to eat a biscuit, and you gently pry it out of his hands mid bite. "john, did you take your omega-3s today?"

he signs, hand grazing your hip as you stand in front of him. "no, love. not today. but i used that nicotine patch you told me to use to help with the smokin'."

your eyes light up. "you're using them, darling?"

his heart thuds pridefully at your reaction, like it usually does when you call him darling in that dreamy little tone of voice.

"wore 'em everyday for ya, m'love," he murmurs, reaching for your hips so he can tug you gently to stand between his knees. "damn if i don't like a good smoke, but i like my woman's happiness a little more."

you giggle, nuzzling your nose into his hair, relishing in the pleasant, clean scent. "just a little?"

he laughs, bringing you into a sitting position on his knee. "a lot, love. y'said it's no good for m'lungs, and i wanna be around long enough to see our grandbabies. can't have that if 'm coughin' up ash everyday."

your lip wobbles. "oh john," you coo, lacing you arms around his neck tightly. you're so proud of him that you feel your eyes start to well up. you nuzzle your face into his neck to hide the way you're getting so emotional. you're so proud of him. "there there..." he bounces you in his lap a little to soothe you. "you're the sweetest lil' thing, aren't ya? takin' care of me so good. wouldn't know what to do without you."

you sniffle and snuggle into him so tight that you're nearly suffocating.

he tries to act like the fussing annoys him most times, but really, he relishes in it. he rarely smokes unless he's very stressed and isn't a heavy drinker. after all, you told him, "don't drink if you're looking for an escape from your problems, m'kay? 's what i'm here for."

his health's never been better.

what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?

he's been on edge all morning. one of the younger dogs knocked the sheep pen open early this morning and let half a dozen of them loose, and price has been running around like his head's on fire trying to corral them back inside and soothe the other distressed sheep. he just got back in all sweaty and stressed, drinking a large mug of coffee. then a second. third. on the fourth, you stepped in, suggesting that he might wanna slow down, and he snapped. "god's sake woman, d'you ever let up? i don't need a bloody nanny all the time. enough with the naggin' "

you shut up immediately, drawing your hand back with your brows scrunched.

slowly, you stop asking about his vitamins. stop shoveling extra greens on his plate. stop massaging rosemary oil into his hair at night. you stop. it's relieving for about fifteen minutes. then, he's disturbed. the silence brings him no peace whatsoever. he lasts until the evening of the same day, and he corners you while you're making dinner, hugging you from behind. "darlin'," he murmurs into your ear, mouthing at the lobe.

no answer. he huffs, dragging you against him and pressing soft, open mouthed kisses down your ear, along your jaw, to your throat, where he licks a broad stripe back up to your sweet spot. "c'mon darlin', 'm sorry. you know i get heated fast, hm?" his big hands travel along your body, his left now splaying on your breast, and the right squeezing your hip. "just had a terrible morning, nearly lost our sheep, had to run around like an idiot for an hour... 'n i lost my cool with you. 's not okay, i know."

"hate it when you raise your voice at me, john." you say softly, and his heart just about breaks. he didn't mean to, really. he loves when you're bossy with him. it shows you care and it's incredibly sexy. he'd just been very irate this particular morning. he's been with you years and hasn't complained seriously about the nagging ever, and he's not about to start now.

he squeezes your tit in his palm and kisses your cheek. "i know beautiful, i know. i love you s'much, hm? gonna make it up to you..."

he's on his knees behind you soon after, eating your pussy under your dress while you try to cook. his tongue laps at your soaked hole, causing his beard to get soaked with your juices. the thick hair scratches pleasantly against your folds while the spoon you're holding clatters onto the counter, your eyes fluttering shut and hands scrabbling forwards for something to hold - you settle on the heavy stand mixer ahead of you.

he's apologizing with a mouthful of your pussy, hands squeezing your ass and giving your thighs a little pinch any time you try to close 'em.

" 'm sorry. need you fussin', darling, alright? don't ever stop." your breath hilts each time his tongue drags upwards and flattens over your clit. his nose keeps nudging your ass because his big hands keep you spread wide for him.

you sway a little, thighs trembling with the overwhelming amount of pleasure he's inflicting on you, but all he does is grunt and pull you back against his face harder. "this what it takes t'get you talkin' to me again?" he rasps against your cunt. "fine, i'll eat this sweet fuckin’ pussy 'til you forgive me."

you gasp when he sucks on your clit and tips you forward so you're fully presented for him, tongue fucking in and out of your sloppy hole. the food you were tying to make is long forgotten at this point, but he doesn't care at all. all he wants to stuff his face with anyway is your sloppy cunt.

"john, mmh!" you cry out, thighs clamping around his head, but he smacks your ass hard and shoves your thighs wide once more.

"no, no, you'll take it," he grunts. "this is my apology, yeah? let me make it right an' show you how much i love your fussin'. "

you cream onto his face with a loud whine. grinding against his chin and into his mouth, and even then, he continues for a second round, mouthing at your folds and mumbling, "couple more, wife. apology's not done."

johnny "soap" mactavish

johnny's a firecracker and a wildcard. he lives on the edge and likes the unknown that comes with being reckless and unprepared. but when he met, dated, and then married you, he did have to learn to exert some degree of control over himself and his life, because damn you're a very meticulous, bossy little thing. not that he minds. having his woman fuss over him and baby him and give him extra special treatment all day, every day doesn't really feel punishing. your fussing is basically foreplay for him.

you'll tell him, "johnny, you're not going on a run with a level 6 UV outside with no sunscreen on. cmere so i can put it all on you."

"...whatever tha' means."

you frown. "johnny, you're not funny. a level 6 is dangerous. cancerous without protection."

he chuckles. "you just want an excuse to rub y'lil hands all over me, ain' that right?"

"johnny!"

you literally have to tackle him onto the living room floor sometimes to rub sunscreen on his face, because he keeps dodging you and laughing. squirming like a kid while you try to get his ears and nose. "you won't wanna shag me if i've got white goo all over m'cheeks, lass, 'm not havin' it."

"you'll thank me when you don't have skin cancer in twenty years," you huff, massaging the liquid into his cheeks while you straddle him. it's the only way he'll ever sit still anyway. his hands reach up to paw at your hips, and he tilts his head, smiling up at you.

"y'look s'cute on top o' me, don't ya?" he coos, giving your ass a playful slap. you roll you eyes and squeeze his cheek in retaliation, and he laughs and continues. "do y'love me more now that i've been properly slathered?" he teases, raising his brows as you finish rubbing in the last bit of cream.

you kiss his forehead. "only a little."

he smiles. "hm. maybe i should scald myself in the sun so you can love me up more."

"johnny."

"…right, right. responsible. m'havin' a growth arc for m'wife,"

"are you?"

"…no. but m'health has improved dramatically since y'started bullyin' me into slatherin' my skin twice a day."

you lean in so your lips brush his "that's cause i want you around forever, dummy."

johnny smiles softer at your words, tugging you down so your forehead rests on his and his beefy arms wrap around you. "i know," he hums, kissing your lips softly. " 'm not goin' anywhere, bonnie. not if i can help it."

what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?

he'd got home only yesterday from being deployed for several weeks. he hadn't seen his loving wife in ages, and the distance didn't do to well on him mentally. he's really not in the mood for fussing. he just needs to eat, fill you up with his cum a few times tonight, and go to bed.

you, however, had been nagging him the minute he came home. needing a breather, he offered to go grab groceries and run errands, hoping that the little break would help him cool off so he didn't snap at you. he's never raised his voice at you, and he doesn't plan on it today.

but when he got back with a dark bottle of bourbon...

"baby? did you only offer to go so you could buy that nonsense? i told you i hate when you drink-"

he interrupts you. "for fuck's sake, can I breathe without you hoverin'? you're not my mum."

you glare at him. not the sweet glare when you're admiring him, or the shy one, or the deadpan one when he does something dumb and you pretend to be mad at him, the angry wife one. oh, he is not a big fan of this look.

weirdly, though, instead of telling him how rude that was and that he knows you're just trying to look out for him, you turn and walk away in an eerie, icy silence. fuck, this isn't good. "bonnie, c'mon. i didnae mean that. c'mere,"

you swat his hand away lightly, deciding you won't be "mothering" him anymore. and so in the following days, you don't tell him to put on sunscreen. you don't pout when he only sleeps four hours. you barely touch him or look at him.

he tries to charm you at first, knowing how much of a sucker you are for his flirting and pretty words, but it doesn't work this time. you don't bite or get on his case or boss him in the way that makes him hard as hell. no shoving his chest when he gets too close or mewling "johnny please," when he teases you. none of it.

you've been eerily polite, and it's driving him mental. on the second day of this, he tries to nuzzle into your neck while you're folding laundry, whispering, "miss you s'much baby, 'm gonna make it up to you properly tonight."

you pull away and hand him rolled up socks. "drawer." he watches you for a moment, hands slack by his sides, socks limp in his grip.

you're distant. johnny's not good with distance from you. the next day, he's extremely restless, wandering around you like a lost puppy in only a pair of sweats sitting low on his hips, hoping you'll come put that greasy spf you always fuss about all over him. he even lies out on the balcony chair for a full twenty minutes in the sun just to bait you, but you give him nothing. you do spare him a glance periodically through the glass door, but you say nothing. he ends up with a sunburn on his chest and the bridge of his nose.

that night, when you dont wiggle into his chest like normal or ask if he had a vitamin after he ate dinner, he turns to his side to face you, needing to put an end to your stonewalling. "bon."

you hum. he can't tell if it's acknowledgement or just the sound you make when you're falling asleep.

"c'mon," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest. "i wasn't nice to you, i know that. didn' mean to be a dick. just been so stressed 'n on edge 'n i spoke outta turn."

while you're deciding whether or not to believe him, he gets closer, forehead nudging yours. "i'll pour the bourbon down the sink tomorrow," he says quietly. "swear it."

your fingers toy with the hem of his sleep shirt. it's the first time in days you've touched him without pushing him away. "you can drink if you want to." you murmur, twisting the fabric in your hands. " 'm sorry if i'm being overbearing."

"y'not, baby." he kisses your cheek. "just wanna do whatever makes you happy. you're the boss, aren't you?"

you wake up the next morning with his head between your legs, slow and steady, taking his time kissing down your body, from your tummy, to your hip, down to your inner thigh, and then your tender core.

his big palms wrap around the backs of your thighs and pull them over his shoulders, locking you in place while his mouth sucks and works at your pussy. he's so focused that he's making pleased little groans, crotch rutting absentmindedly against the mattress. he's grateful to have you back in his arms and your pussy, dripping and sweet as nectar, accessible to him once more, but he needs to make you cum to really feel forgiven.

he's slow and paced, kissing on you like he's starved. the slow drag of his tongue through your folds and the way his lips close over your clit and suck just softly enough to make your thighs tremble is euphoric, and you find yourself blanking on why you were mad at him to begin with.

his arms are wrapped around your thighs so firm you can barely move. and every time you try to squirm, he groans low and pulls you right back down, nose buried, face flushed and mouth messy. you can feel his beard brushing you, scratchy and warm, and your fingers automatically slide into his hair. "that's it, baby," he mumbles between pussy kisses. "lemme say sorry proper."

you whimper, back arching when he flattens his tongue against your clit and gives it a slow, firm swirl. he just groans again with enjoyment when you close your thighs around his head. he loves being smothered. he doesn't even care if he breathes, as long as you're happy and in love with him. when your pleasure crests and you cum on his face, he licks at your folds firmer, dragging that orgasm out of you. he keeps his mouth on you, gentler now. just soft licks and little kisses, tongue soothing over your puffy folds while his big hands rub slow circles into your thighs.

he doesn't stop until your hand in his hair goes limp. you sigh, letting him kiss back up your body to give you a little break before he goes back for more. he rests on your chest, nuzzling into your flesh gently. "you're forgiven, johnny." you huff, a little tired.

he grins, mouth still wet, eyes gleaming with relief. "thank fuck. boss me all you want, love. swear it gets me hard, anyway."

simon "ghost" riley

simon riley is commanding. he’s the most domineering presence in any room he walks in. makes the greatest of men lower their gaze when he approaches. he's taken down large enemy groups all on his own, has killed men with his bare hands, and… he comes home to you telling him "you can't eat that, baby. it's got monosodium glutamate in it. that makes you sick, remember?" and listens every time.

"…right," he'll say after a pause. "forgot abou' that. what d’you want me to eat then?"

he'd drop the bag of crisps he picked up on his way home with the god forsaken MSG in it the second you mentioned it and would nod. "mm. wouldn' wan' to spoil my dinner anyway, right love?" while gently taking you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours.

you're not controlling, either. the fussing is very particular. typically just a soft, offhand reminder from the only person in the world who really knows and prioritizes him before anything else. you love him so much and this is part of the way you show it. how could he complain?

you know everything about him, which is huge, considering he is a man of few words and is dreadful at being vulnerable. you know what wrecks his stomach, what gives him headaches, how he gets irritable and loopy when he doesn't sleep at least six hours in the night. you know his favorite clothing fabric and how he just wants to hold you when he's upset.

your voice is so warm and quietly certain that he has to listen every time. once you advise him not to do something, everything in him short circuits. his brute force logic disappears. because you say no, or "you shouldn't si, take this instead," and it's a done deal.

you don't even realize what it does to him, how something as simple as your concern twists itself into a soft knot in his stomach, how it makes him ache, not because you're bossing him, but because you're taking car and watching over him in a way no one else does.

he often glares at you and raises a brow ever so slightly at the way you, a tiny thing with big, expressive eyes and pouty lips just told a tank of a man what to do and expected him to listen.

he does though. listens to your bossy ass every time. and for all his stoicism, the man melts under your fussing.

he's in the shower with you brought that annoying cleanser you insist he needs to use every night and wash it off after thirty seconds because he's got sensitive skin.

"love. this shit's greasy."

"it's hydrating, si. good for your skin. protects the barrier."

"don't wan' hydrating."

you rub into his cheekbones anyway while his eyes are locked on you and his breath comes out slow and heavy. you're standing between his legs in the steam, having him lower his head slightly so you can reach your hands into his short hair once you've finished with the cleanser. you're squinting up at him, so serious as you massage something into his scalp like you're not both bare, soaked, and pressed up against each other.

simon has both massive hands holding your waist while he backs you into a corner of the shower, letting you fuss about exfoliants and scalp health with your tits smushed against his body and your eyes fixed on his face and not his cock nudging against your body, aching and swollen from the sight of you. he's trying to focus but he's so distracted by your body, the way you smell, and how soft you are in his hands.

you tilt your head up, rub a little cream into his hair, mumbling, "gotta keep your scalp health up to par, si", and he loses it.

simon grabs your face in both hands and pushes his mouth against yours, catching you off guard. you squeak into his mouth, and he groans and takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, water pouring down both of you, beard scratchy on your chin.

"god," he mutters hoarsely between kisses, "you fuss over me like I’m your bloody housepet."

you let out another noise in his mouth, not knowing if that means he hates it or not, but he nips your lower lip, trails his lips along your jaw and up to your ear. " 's a good thing, love. don't pout."

you moan softly, tilting your head to give him more access to your neck and jaw. the reassurance felt great, and you find yourself melting into his touch.

" 'm gonna fuck you," he mutters, voice cracked with need, hand already sliding down your back to grip your ass. "righ' now. can't take it anymore." you look up through your lashes, lashes wet, lip caught in your teeth.

"but you still have conditioner in," you stare up at him coyly.

"finish after. s'not like 'm goin' anywhere."

what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?

simon didn't mean to snap at you. the harsh tone came out by itself. it's just that he's so tired and sore, joints in his body stiff with exhaustion. all he needs is a breather for five minutes, but you're there by the kitchen counter when he gets home. "hi baby! why don't you start with some of the stir fry i made! dunno if drinking black tea on an empty stomach is the best idea."

normally, he'd melt for your nagging and let you tug the tea bag and mug out of his hands and shove a plate of the lunch you made and a cup of water in his hands instead, and then kiss you stupid for giving a shit, but today, he bristles.

"jesus christ, can i just eat what i want for once?" his voice comes out sharp and cold in a tone he's never used on you before.

you blink, lips parting as you stand frozen in place with the wooden spoon you were using to cook laying limply in your hand. your mouth opens and then closes, and you give him a faint little nod and turn away.

he immediately notices your silence. you're never silent like this, so when you give him a faint little nod and walk off, he knows he screwed up bad. he stews on his stupidity for hours, up until you're laying in bed beside him and not once have you reminded him to put on that charcoal mask you always insist "draws out toxins."

you're just sitting beside him. not even sulking, just indifferent. you know what you're doing, of course. and it's working. he stares at the ceiling for a while, grinding his molars, heart pounding in his chest. he clears his throat in hopes of getting your attention and fails.

"not g'na remind me about the mask tonight?"

you flip a page. "no. thought you didn't want to be nagged."

he winces.

"didn’ mean it like that, sweetheart."

"right." you're still not looking at him or touching him.

he can't survive without your fussing much longer. he doesn't have your eyes on him or your little giggles or your hands all over him and sweet night routines and it's making him crazy.

he sits up and breathes in deeply, before reaching for you quietly. you glance over with confusion just as he peels your book out of your hands. "what are you..?"

he's already tugging you across the bed, laying you down on the bed before peeling off your clothes. "simon! wh-what are you doing?" you glare up at him with confusion, squirming under him as he shimmies your panties down your legs and tossing it to the floor.

"apologizin' to m'wife."

he scoops you up and places you on his face with no warning, your pussy lined up with his mouth. he holds you there, palms spread over your ass, fingers sinking into your soft flesh, before diving in.

he groans like a starved man the second he licks into you. his tongue is slow at first, sliding between your folds, and lapping at your soft, juicy pussy. you're still half mad but you can't stop the way your head tips back as he sucks your clit into his mouth and holds it there. you squeal, bucking your hips to try and get away from the overwhelming amount of pleasure, but he doesn't let up, tilting you hips up a little so he can slip his tongue into your soaked hole.

he tongues your entrance and licks you open messily, making you squirm into his mouth. you pull at his hair and try to lift yourself off, whining. "s-simon... s'too much..!"

he slaps your ass. "you don't get to leave me like that, love. won't let you be mad at me."

[inkbybambi]

soap has a piss kink, but not in the way you would think.

he doesn’t want you to piss on him, though he certainly wouldn’t deny the opportunity. more so that he likes watching you pee. he’ll follow you to the bathroom like an obedient puppy, sit at your feet while your panties lay by your ankles. he’ll squish his cheek right up against your knee and spread your legs, gazing lovingly at his favorite part of you. it makes you uncomfortable, at first, trying to press your knees together to hide him from your view. but he's stubborn in the way he's stubborn about how he takes his coffee, in the way he makes you kiss his cheek before he leaves for the day.

so you relent and spread your legs, feel the warm flow of piss as soap’s eyes dilate, watching with rapt fascination. you don’t get it, you mumble to him as he reaches for the toilet paper to wipe you dry. all he does is press a fond kiss to your knee and helps you up, panties snug on your waist when he’s done.

it becomes a habit to go with you to the bathroom when he’s home. when he doesn’t immediately get up to go with you, you’ll wait, hand outstretched. it becomes a comfort, that he’ll be with you no matter what. you miss him when he’s away, the spot on your knee where he would press himself seemingly colder than the rest of your body.

—

you start to take videos for him. you feel a bit silly, a bit dirty in a way that scrapes at your brain unpleasantly, but you’d do anything for him so you take a deep breathe before you start, and then click record. it’s awkward, at first, getting the angle correct. making sure your arm wasn’t in the way, that it wasn’t focused only on the toilet itself.

it took a few tries but when you were finally satisfied with it, the lighting and the volume just right, you send it off to him with trembling fingers, heart rabbiting as you wait for him to reply. you don’t know why you’re so nervous, he was the one that started this.

you didn’t have to wait long, a little heart reaction on your video followed by so many heart emojis, you had to scroll to reach the bottom. you giggle, heat flooding your cheeks at the caps locked praise, absolutely chuffed with his reaction.

as you wait for him to get home, you bite at your nail, suddenly shy about what you’ve done. he’s quick to abate the worries you didn’t even have a chance to voice when he comes in, large paws cradling your face so sweetly, pressing kisses across the bridge of your nose and cheeks, finally melding his mouth with yours to swallow your happy sounds.

“ah love ye so much,” he presses his adoration into your skin, burning like a brand, warm like the sun. “ah don’t know what ah did to deserve ye,” he says, awe laced into each word.

you wrap your arms around his neck to cradle him close, nails scratching affectionately at the nape of his neck. “i love you too,” you whisper into his skin, burying any reservations you may have had left into the confession, feeling like you swallowed a star with how he crushes you back.

—

it’s dark when you wake, the glow-in-the-dark stars faint on the ceiling. you’re not meant to be up this early, and you pout a bit into your pillow when your attempt to fall back asleep doesn’t work. soap’s arm is secure around your waist, an anchor in the black of the room.

“johnny,” you whisper, shaking his arm as you try to wriggle from his grip. you need to pee and you’d rather do it in the bathroom.

“johnny,” you whine, when he doesn’t show any sign of waking up. now that you’ve thought about how badly you need to pee, you can’t stop thinking about it, making it worse.

“ugh!” you huff as you shove his arm off you, almost near rolling out of bed in your attempt to free yourself. you stub your toe on his boot next, and you silently curse him as you hobble to the bathroom, hands along the walls as a guide.

you settle yourself on the toilet, sighing as you wait for the warmth to start. but it doesn’t, and you get even more frustrated because you’re sleepy, your toe hurts, and you just want to crawl back into bed with johnny.

“y’abandoned me,” comes from the doorway, the light flickering on as you startle, a noise between a gasp and a whine caught in your throat — not only by the light, but also the pouting scot that slinks his way to the floor between your legs, cheek nestled on your knee.

"s'too bright," you complain, bowing your head to rest on top of his mohawk, flattened by the pillows. he hums in agreement.

"you didn't need to join me," you say, after a moment's silence, and still unable to go to the bathroom.

"ah missed ye," he speaks mostly into your skin, and you relax back against the seat, cradling his face for comfort. "now go 'n be a good lass 'n pee so we can go back to sleep."

you snort softly, and you finally feel the relief of warmth from between your legs, keeping soap close as you slip back into a gentle sort of sleepy consciousness, content to have him there.

"tha's my girl."

[gloomwitchwrites]

You start sending them spicy texts a few minutes after they've left for work. Now they're home.

Bonus if you can have them say "You started it..."

Oh, anon. I am more than happy to fulfill this request. Spicy texts just before leaving work. Them walking in the door with the most feral energy. please. I am here for it. I am salivating. I am barking at the damn moon. I am running around on all fours. I am hanging from the ceiling. I love this prompt. Love love love. Thank you for sending it in!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: dirty talk, sexting, oral sex, sex toys, unprotected piv, creampie, vaginal fingering, knife play, spanking

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

You sent the texts to be funny—to tease John. He’s leaving work, and you want him thinking about you the whole way home.

Instead, you have an animal on your hands. A man starving for you. It’s far more than you anticipated.

I always want you.

I wish you were here with me. Naked.

Will you fill me up when you come home?

“You started it, love. I’m just finishing it.”

John grasps the back of your neck, pulling you close. Your fingers cling to the front of his shirt, the fabric twisting in your fist. John doesn’t even glance down. He’s entirely focused on your lips.

John smells of work. Of sweat. Of manly musk. You want to breathe him in.

He holds on the back of your neck tightens slightly. “I want you on your knees. Mouth open. Understand?”

You give a little nod, and John eases his grip. His hand transitions to the front of your throat, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. When his hand drops away, John takes a step back. You obediently descend before him, softly landing on your knees.

John won’t move. He won’t take the lead. You’re to do everything.

That’s how he likes it, and that is always how you do it.

With gentle hands, you caress the front of his thighs. Beneath his pants, you feel the strength and power there. John is all corded muscle. Bulky. Thick. Already you’re salivating. Your fingers find his belt buckle. It’s easy, and it’s soon gone. Zipper comes next, and then you’re opening up the front of his pants.

The moment John is in your hand, he groans. You don’t want to tease him now. You only want to make him come. You place a kiss on the head, and then give it a little lick. A tiny bead of precum appears. You take that for yourself too.

Slowly, you run your tongue along the underside of his cock along the vein. John isn’t touching you but his fists clench and unclench. He’s restraining himself. You swallow him down, and John immediately grasps the back of your head. The grip is strong, and you’re unable to pull back.

John wants you to throat him. And you will.

Clinging to the front of his thighs, you go all in, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deep. You are messy. Eager. Showing John exactly how much you missed him today. This is your little gift to him, because after, you know he’s going to fill your pussy until you’re dripping.

You did start this.

And you’ll happily do it again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Leaving work in ten.

Ten minutes. And then twenty to drive home. That gives you thirty minutes to fuck with your boyfriend.

Grinning, you start devising a series of texts. Kyle is good about not texting and driving. He hates people that do it, so you know he won’t answer, which makes it that much better. You’ll send him these texts, and he won’t be able to respond at all.

It’s perfect. Brilliant.

You send the first one off.

Miss you. Been thinking about you all day.

It’s sweet. Something to make Kyle smile, but that’s the whole point. Draw him in, and then make him hungry for you.

Kyle responds immediately. Miss you too, love.

Not in the car yet then. You wait a few more minutes and then send a response to him.

I’ve been horny all day. Can’t wait for you to get here.

You give it some time but Kyle does not answer. Means he’s in the car.

Kept touching myself. Couldn’t stop.

Still, nothing.

You have no idea if Kyle is reading the texts or not but you hope that he is. His phone connects to his car when he turns it on, so the texts have to be coming through. If anything, he’s listening to them, the system reading your texts aloud to him.

I’m using that new toy you bought me right now.

Lie. You haven’t tried it out yet, but you’ve been wanting to.

Thinking about you while I use it.

So wet.

There isn’t any response, but that’s no surprise. You’re on edge though, every limb tingling, heart racing with the anticipation of Kyle’s arrival.

Twenty minutes feels like an hour, but you hear the front door open from your place in the bedroom. By the time you bring your feet to the floor, Kyle is already in the doorway. His chest heaves, posture poised as if he wouldn’t find you home.

“Kyle—”

“Get out of your clothes and get your ass back on the bed,” he nearly growls, yanking off his shirt before the sentence is even out of his mouth.

“You got my texts?” you ask with a sultry purr, moving slowly to remove your clothing.

“Oh, I did, love. Sure fucking did.”

When you’re down to just your underwear, Kyle is already naked, reaching for you. You shriek playfully, and then you’re flipped onto your stomach.

“I want to see just how wet you are,” he murmurs, bringing your hips up, and spreading your legs wide, revealing your pussy to him.

He groans. “I can do better.”

Kyle’s tongue is on you, and then he’s licking, swirling his tongue up and down your pussy. You cry out, hands fisting the sheets beneath you, toes curling. Kyle kisses your clit, and then sucks it into his mouth before tonguing you to orgasm.

He draws back, and you hear the drawer in the bedside table opening. Kyle rummages around, then you hear the gentle vibration of the new toy he just bought. You swallow, and push up to look over your shoulder.

Your gazes meet and Kyle grins.

“You started it.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You’ve been stuck in the house all day.

Simon is supposed to be off work shortly. And you want to stir up a bit of trouble.

Coming home soon?

Simon’s answer returns swiftly.

Leaving in five.

It won’t take long for Simon to get home. The man has a streak for breaking every traffic law imaginable. He just doesn’t care. At times it’s down right sexy, but other times it scares the piss out of you.

Biting your lip, you wiggle deeper into the couch, texting out a reply to Simon.

Hurry home, Simon. I need you.

I want you to use me. Your own personal plaything.

Can’t wait to feel you inside me.

You send the texts one after another. Pressing your phone to your chest, you giggle, knowing what you’ve done. Simon is going to storm through that door and make you squirm. And it’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

A few minutes later, his response comes in.

Be ready for me.

You know what that means. Simon wants you naked and on the bed, presented to him like an offering. But you won’t do that. He needs to work for it. If he wants you naked and wanton, Simon will have to do it himself.

But all that confidence disappears when Simon barrels through the door. He is a phantom. A wraith of desire. Simon has you off the couch and over his shoulder in seconds. In the bedroom, Simon drops you on the bed.

By the time you go to sit up, Simon removes his hunting knife from his boot. The tip of the blade catches under your shirt and then it’s gone, your bare breasts on full display.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, twirling the knife end over end before closing it and dropping it onto the bedside table.

You’re just in your underwear, and Simon’s gaze is heated.

“Off,” he demands, and you comply, sliding off your underwear and tossing them aside.

Simon reaches for the front of his belt. It’s off in moments, and then he’s undoing the front of his pants. His cock springs free of its confinement, and your pussy automatically clenches at the sight. Simon grabs your ankle and pulls you to the edge of the bed, pushing your legs wide.

“Fuck. Look at that.” Simon parts the folds of your pussy with his fingers. The sound of your wetness is loud in the room. He brushes against your clit and you moan, head falling back.

And then you’re moaning for a completely different reason. Simon’s cock notches at your entrance, and he slams home to the hilt. Using his natural weight, you’re pinned, taking each brutal thrust.

You said you wanted him to use you. To be his plaything.

And he is. He’s fucking you for his own pleasure. It’s a punishment as much as it’s a reward. You fall back and take it, your breath leaving you in gasps with each thrust. Simon’s hand wraps around your throat, and then you’re being lifted off the bed, his lips nearly touching yours.

“Don’t forget, love. You started it.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

I love it when you grab my hair. When you push me up against the wall. When you take total and complete control.

You send the texts with a mischievous grin on your face. Johnny is at work—about to leave if he’s on schedule. And these texts will only stoke his blood—make him hunger for you.

It’s just a tease. A way to get what you want.

You want him to fuck you, but not slowly. And not with any sweetness. Johnny needs to come home and bend you over the nearest piece of furniture.

Every time I fantasize about us having sex, I imagine you tying me up and having your way with me.

You don’t expect Johnny to respond. He doesn’t usually text and drive. But he does, and you giggle at his reply.

Naughty girl.

Every minute twists in your stomach, making you anxious with longing. You have to stand up and pace around the coffee table to try and expel some of the excess energy. You are so focused on trying to clear your mind that when Johnny enters, you momentarily freeze, surprised at his sudden appearance.

His mouth turns upward into a knowing smile, and then you bolt. Johnny is right on your heels and there is no escape from him. Johnny has you in the air and over his shoulder is less than a minute.

You shriek, and Johnny’s large palm comes down in a hard slap against your bare ass.

“Johnny!”

He laughs, and then smacks your ass again, this time with a softer hand.

“You started it,” he says, carrying you into the bedroom.

Johnny tosses you down onto the bed, and then he’s on you, pinning you beneath him. You giggle under him as Johnny nips and kisses your throat and lips. Playfully hitting him does nothing. Johnny only grasps your wrists and pins them above your head. He transfers both wrists to one large palm, holding you in that position.

“Spread those legs for me,” he croons against your lips.

You instantly widen and Johnny shifts back. With one hand, Johnny pushes your underwear to the side. You’re already wet—already in need of him. Johnny tests with one finger and then a second. They disappear inside your pussy, and reappear glossy and slick.

“Fucking look at you, love,” he murmurs, repeating the motion until your hips buck and move with him.

Your breath hitches and Johnny removes his fingers. He brings those slick digits to your lips.

“Open.”

You comply and taste yourself.

When his fingers are clean, Johnny reaches between your bodies and undoes the front of his pants. He slides home, and then he’s fucking you relentlessly, pounding you into the bed. You take it all, restrained and moaning underneath him.

Johnny groans, his body tensing, and then he’s flooding your pussy with his cum. You’re so full, and it’s only the start.

[multific]

Mine, Yours

Alpha!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Omega!Reader

Alpha/Beta/Omega Universe

Warnings: swearing, oral, +18!!!

You felt his anger.

Your alpha was angry.

And you knew just exactly why. Graves thought it would be a fun prank to start flirting with you. While you were sitting right next to your mate!

Philip must have gone insane, you knew he liked to tease the boys but this was a new level.

But soon, he messed up very very badly.

When he said "I bet you I would be a better Alpha to you." it was over.

Everyone saw it coming when Johnny threw a punch at him. Graves didn't even have time to react as he fell backwards with his chair. Simon, who sat next to him just took another sip of his drink, unbothered.

"Say that again and I will make sure you will regret even being born!" Johnny was mad, you have never seen him so angry.

It both scared and turned you on.

Another punch was thrown at Graves because he said something you didn't hear. Your focus was now on Johnny.

You stood up, making everyone look at you.

"Let's go home." you said but Johnny didn't listen. You knew it was time for the big guns. "Alpha, please take me home." you said with your best submissive voice, and it finally worked.

It almost even made Simon stand up but he had to remind himself, you weren't his.

Johnny quickly scooped you up and ran out of the bar.

Simon also stood up, leaving Graves on the floor as he headed to the bar to ask for another Bourbon. 

You heard Johnny mumbling something to himself, you understood a couple words such as, dickhead, asshole and something about a hole in his head.

But you knew better than to say a word.

You just let him carry you back home, rubbing his back to hopefully calm him a little.

Johnny had only one weakness, your Omega, you.

And although you were a strong woman, you also knew that Johnny liked the innocent type. He had a thing for protection, much like other alphas.

So, you often liked to play the part of damsel in distress. 

You were convinced Johnny thought you were genuine during those moments, and you didn't want to burst his bubble. Plus, you very much enjoyed seeing him be so though and strong.

So, when you arrived home, and Johnny didn't want to let go of you, you knew that the curtains were up, it was your time to shine.

"You are mine! How dare he?!" his pupils were blown, and his eyes looked foggy, your Johnny was only a shadow of the Alpha in front of you at this moment.

"Alpha," your voice came out a lot softer than you anticipated. You felt a shiver running down his back as you looked at him and he watched you. "You protected me." he silently nodded. "Can I reward you?" he slightly tilted his head, not understanding.

But when you sank down to your knees, the fog lifted from his eyes and it became dark. 

"Can I reward my Alpha for keeping me safe?"

Johnny quickly grabbed you and walked into the living room, he sat down on the couch and placed you in front of him, in between his legs.

He ran his thumb down your cheek and moved to your lips.

"Suck me, Omega." he said and you never felt more wet in your entire life.

You didn't need to be told twice, you were quick to undo his pants and get him naked.

He got rid of his shirt, while you remained fully clothed. 

You had only one goal in mind and that was to please him.

It was so easy to do as well.

No matter what you did, he loved it.

He enjoyed everything you can possibly do. Even if you say you have done it wrong, he would tell you the opposite. 

In his eyes, you can do no wrong.

Much like right now.

He kept on groaning and praising you as you tried your best to fit his length into your mouth.

"You don't have to fit all of it, Love. Yes...Yes just like that." he said as you worked your fingers on the part which you couldn't fit.

He smelled amazing, your alpha was truly a sight to behold. Especially when your eyes locked with his as you kept bobbing your head, your tongue flat against his length. 

His eyes were filled with lust, you felt his hips jerk as you moved down once more, keeping your eye contact the entire time.

You knew he was about to come. 

You want him to, you were ready for it.

You wanted to tell him that it was okay to come, if your mouth wouldn't have been full with his cock.

The only warning he gave before he exploded was that he grabbed the back of your head, fist full of your hair as he groaned loudly and pulled you forward.

You watched as he threw his head back against the couch and let go of your hair, you swallowed to remainder of his essence and allowed him to come down from his high.

You slowly stood up and he watched you with half-open eyes as you took off your dress and stepped out of your panties.

"Shower?" you asked and he simply nodded, you smiled at him as you tried to move out of his reach but he was faster.

He pulled your back against his front, his head in your neck as he growled.

"You are mine." he said in such a deep voice, you were already soaking wet. 

He bit down on your shoulder a little bit as you felt his length harden against your back once more.

You were in for a long night. 

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DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS 

[etclouie]

i seen you've written about stepcest before so was wondering if you could do smut prompt 6. "Suck on it." with soap mactavish and stepsister!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡ — title; brotherly love (soap mactavish x fem!reader)

˚୨୧⋆｡ — prompt/s; “suck on it” — from "𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙝, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩…" 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 

˚୨୧⋆｡ — warnings; smut—oral (m receiving), minors do not interact!!!, cum eating/swallowing, stepcest (stepbrother!soap x stepsister!reader), soap calls reader a cocksucker once, that’s it tho (399 words)

˚୨୧⋆｡ — a/n; i love this with him

— celebrate 1k with me?

your parents had gone away from the week, leaving you and Johnny home by yourselves. 

normally this would’ve been fine, but the past two times they went away your relationship with him had changed..

the first time, you’d kissed and groped each other a little. the second time he made you cum on his fingers, but he promised the next time he’d let you suck him off and that’s exactly what the plan for tonight was. 

he’d waited until your show for the night was finished, and then he made his move. 

his joggers were pushed down to his ankles as he made you sit between his legs, eyeing his cock eagerly. 

“pretty lass”

he complimented, tapping the head of his cock against your lips until you parted to let him in. 

he smirked, his other hand cradling your face and his thumb stroking across your cheek. 

“suck on it”

he told, and you did. 

swirling your tongue around the head of his cock before taking him into your mouth, he groaned at the warmth of your mouth surrounding him. 

his hips bucked up into you, causing you to gag slightly. the sound of you gagging as he hit the back of your throat made him groan again, the coil starting to wind inside him. 

“perfect fucking mouth”

he told, pulling his hands back as you bobbed your head. he watched you entranced, the way you took him effortlessly. 

with each bob of your head, the closer he got to his release. your mouth sending him closer to the edge quicker than he’d ever been before. 

his hips bucked up, causing you to gag again. your lips were wrapped perfectly around him, a sight he was currently committing to memory—along with the sight of spit drooling from the corners of your mouth. 

“close love”

he warned, but you didn’t relent. 

you bobbed your head one, two, three more times before he toppled over the edge. he spilled himself into your mouth and down your throat, keeping himself in your mouth as he came down from his high. 

“pretty little cocksucker” 

he cooed after a minute, pulling himself from your mouth with a hiss. 

you swallowed down his release without him asking, sticking your tongue out and he groaned at the thought of you swallowing his cum. 

“fuck, can’t wait until next holiday they take—am fucking you tonight”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

taking one (& another & another & another) for the team | soap x reader x ghost | inspired by: @softaestluv johnny's pent up blurb

It started as a joke. "I'm gonna die if I don't get my cock wet soon," Johnny whined, sprawled backward over the couch, legs spread, hand draped over his forehead like he was seconds away from his last breath. *"Swear I can feel it in my fucking molars, mate. I'm gonna explode."

At first, you and the others ignored him. Typical Soap — loud, dramatic, a walking sexual frustration PSA. But it didn't stop. If anything, it got worse: every mission debrief, every meal, every late-night sit around the barracks, Johnny lamented his poor, poor cock like it was a national tragedy.

When he started describing how tragic his wanks were — "My hand's too fuckin' rough, not the same, need something wet, something tight—" — you snapped. Loud enough for everyone in the room to hear: "Christ, Soap, I'll fuckin' take one for the team if it'll shut you up."

Johnny sat up like you'd just offered him oxygen.

Which is how you found yourself bent over the nearest flat surface, jeans yanked halfway down your thighs, Johnny pressed tight to your back, rutting into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck—fuckin' hell, love, yer savin' my life," he groaned, hips slamming into you like he was trying to crawl inside. "Warm 'n tight, fuck, could stay here forever."

You barely bit back a moan, hands braced hard enough to hurt. You weren't supposed to enjoy this, just do your duty to the squad’s sanity.

But then Johnny started whining again — not his usual loudmouth bitching, but these needy, half-choked sounds against the back of your neck.

"Need ya," he rasped, like he couldn't help himself. "Need yer cunt, fuck, not gonna be enough, need it again—'m not done—"

Even after he came — hot, messy, filling you to the brim — he didn't stop. Still rocking against you, still murmuring desperate filth into your skin, already hardening inside you again.

You realized then: You hadn't fixed the problem. You'd made it worse.

He barely pulled out before he was pushing right back in, thick and slick with his own cum, grinding into your overstretched walls like he could merge the two of you if he tried hard enough.

"Fuckin' perfect," Johnny slurred against your neck, teeth scraping along your skin. "Mine now, y'know that? Filled you up good—fuckin' claimed you—"

You tried to push him off, half-hearted at best — muscles trembling, brain fogged from how full you felt — but Johnny just wrapped an arm around your middle and held you there, hips rolling slow and filthy, fucking his own mess deeper inside.

"Nuh-uh, love," he muttered, pressing kisses to your shoulder, messy and possessive. "Said I'd lose my mind if I didn’t get to fuck you. Y’think one load's enough to fix this? After all that sufferin’?"

You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch again, fully hard despite just cumming. He chuckled low against your skin, voice dark and wrecked.

"Told ya I'd go mad. Now yer stuck with me, sweetheart."

He fucked you slow the second time — not like the frantic, desperate slamming from before, but a grinding, possessive rhythm, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you properly. Every time you clenched around him, he gasped, praising you in that ruined, filthy brogue.

"That's it, good girl," he breathed. "Take it all, take it like y'made for it. Fuckin' born to milk my cock, huh? Gonna pump you so full you won't remember what it feels like to be empty."

You felt him bulge even thicker inside you, grinding down into your cervix, every thrust stretching you wider, making you feel owned in a way that had nothing to do with orders or duty.

Johnny growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. You barely registered it before he was moving — hands gripping your hips, manhandling you onto your back like you weighed nothing.

"Wanna see," he panted, almost delirious. "Wanna see how fuckin' ruined you are for me."

Your legs were shoved open before you could think to protest, ankles tossed over his shoulders. Johnny leaned back just enough to look — and groaned, obscene and ragged.

"Fuckin' hell, look at that," he hissed, watching his cum leaking out of you, your cunt red and puffy, still clenching greedily around nothing. His cock throbbed in his hand, still wet, still ready.

"So messy, love. Drippin' for me already. Y'know what that means, don’t ya?"

You shook your head weakly, breath stuttering in your chest. Johnny just grinned, all teeth and danger.

"Means I’ve gotta fill you up again. 'Til you can't take any more."

Without warning, he lined himself up and pushed — forcing his cock back inside your sore, sloppy cunt in one thick, slow thrust. You cried out, back arching, and Johnny moaned like you were his whole damn salvation.

He didn’t give you a chance to breathe. Started fucking you immediately — deep, grinding strokes that had your whole body jolting with each brutal snap of his hips.

"That's it, that's it," he gasped, head tipping back, sweat dripping down his temple. "Take it all, pretty thing. Gonna make sure yer stuck full of me. Walkin' round leakin' my cum for days."

Your brain barely worked anymore. Just open-mouthed whimpers, toes curling, walls spasming around him like you wanted it — wanted everything he was giving you and more.

Johnny's pace turned frantic again, slamming into you harder, the sound of skin against skin filthy and wet between you.

"Belong to me now," he growled, words punching out of him with each thrust. "No one else. Fuckin' mine."

You couldn’t even pretend to fight it. Couldn’t think past the way he filled you so perfectly, the overwhelming heat, the way his cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you until you felt tears spring to your eyes.

He buried himself to the hilt one final time, grinding down against you, hips jerking as he spilled deep again, thick and endless. You could feel it — the heat, the stretch, the way he pulsed inside you like he was branding you from the inside out.

Johnny didn’t pull out. Just collapsed over you, mouth hot and messy against your jaw, still twitching inside your wrecked cunt.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "Still not enough. Need you again, love. Gonna fill you 'til you’re round with me, swear it."

Johnny stayed buried in you for a long moment, hips grinding lazy, slow circles, as if trying to force every last drop even deeper. You could feel it leaking out around his cock — hot, sticky, obscene — and you whimpered, overstimulated and wrecked.

Johnny noticed immediately. Growled against your throat, feral.

"Leakin'," he muttered, almost offended. "Can't have that. Gotta keep it all in, love. Need you drippin’ full for me."

He finally, finally pulled out — and the flood of cum that gushed out made you sob, weak and broken. But Johnny didn’t give you a second to recover. He dropped between your legs, shoving two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep and obscene, scooping the mess back up.

"No wastin' it," he rasped, fucking his cum right back into your cunt with slow, filthy thrusts. "Take it all, greedy girl. You fuckin' need it."

Your legs kicked weakly at the overstimulation, but Johnny just grinned — wild and unhinged — before spreading you wider, his thumb pressing down hard on your clit while he stuffed you full with his fingers.

"Gonna breed you proper," he whispered hoarsely. "Fill you so deep you’ll be round with me. Belly all heavy, stuffed full of my fuckin' load—"

You sobbed, hips rolling despite yourself, body desperate for more even as your mind shattered into static. You should have known it’d be like this — Johnny didn’t do anything by halves.

He leaned down, mouth dragging messy, possessive kisses along your trembling stomach like he could will it to swell.

"Mine," he murmured. "All fuckin' mine."

And that’s exactly when you heard the door creak open. You barely had the strength to lift your head, vision blurry — but you saw a tall shadow in the doorway.

Ghost.

He stood there, silent, unreadable behind his mask — just watching. Johnny didn't stop. Didn’t even slow down. He curled his fingers inside you again, making you cry out, making more of the mess spill down your thighs.

Ghost's head tilted slightly, almost curious.

"Problem?" Johnny barked over his shoulder, voice wrecked but cocky as hell. Like he wanted Ghost to see — to know.

Ghost said nothing. Just crossed his arms slowly over his broad chest.

Johnny smirked and turned his attention back to you, dragging his fingers out with a wet squelch just to stuff them right back in — slow and possessive.

"That's right," he said lowly, clearly for Ghost’s benefit now. "Had to take care of it myself. Filled her up so good she's fuckin' leaking. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?"

You whimpered in response — too broken, too full, too wrecked to argue.

Ghost watched you for a long, heavy moment — chest rising and falling — before he spoke, voice flat and unreadable: "You better clean up after yourself, Soap."

Then, calmly — without another word — Ghost shut the door behind him with a click.

Johnny barked out a wild, breathless laugh against your stomach. "Come to help, mate?" he panted, fingers still lazily dragging through the wrecked mess of your cunt. "Think she needs it. Poor thing's so fuckin' stuffed already, can't hold it all."

Ghost didn’t answer. Didn't need to.

He stalked closer, heavy boots thudding against the floor, until he was standing right at the edge of the bed — looming over your trembling body. You watched through blurred eyes as he popped the button on his cargo pants, dragging the zipper down slowly, deliberately.

Johnny shifted you slightly, spreading your legs even wider, thumbs digging bruises into your hips to keep you open — presenting you like a ruined offering.

"C'mon, Ghost," Johnny muttered, voice rough and wild. "Don't leave the girl waitin'. Look how pretty she is—drippin' fuckin' ready."

Still silent, Ghost wrapped a hand around the base of his cock — thick, flushed, already leaking — and lined himself up.

He didn’t ease in. Just pressed the fat head against your already-used, dripping hole and pushed.

You screamed, body arching off the bed, overwhelmed instantly by the stretch, the pressure, the unbearable fullness of taking another man inside you without even a second to adjust.

Ghost let out a low, broken sound, not quite a grunt, not quite a moan, and buried himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"There we fuckin' go," Johnny whispered against your ear, laughing breathlessly. "Take him, love. Take us both."

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Ghost fucked you without mercy — slow, devastating thrusts that forced Johnny’s mess and his own spit to spill down your thighs in filthy, wet streams. He said nothing — just breathing harshly through the fabric of his mask, hands brutal on your hips, using you like a living, breathing fucktoy.

Johnny kept whispering filth into your ear — encouragements, praises, commands — while Ghost destroyed you from the inside out.

"That's it, good girl," Johnny crooned, petting your hair while Ghost slammed into you. "Take it like you were fuckin' made for it."

You felt your mind fracturing — pure overstimulation, pure broken pleasure — as Ghost fucked you harder, grinding deep, his cock stretching you to the point of tears.

And then Johnny shifted again — ducking low between your legs to lick around where you were stuffed full, his tongue dragging over your overstretched rim every time Ghost pulled out just a fraction.

"Fuckin' hell," Johnny gasped, almost reverent. "Look at that, Ghost. Cunt's swallowin' you like she needs it."

Ghost let out another low, broken sound — and picked up the pace. The bed creaked violently under you, your body jolting with every brutal, punishing thrust.

You could feel it building — some dark, overwhelming climax you couldn’t fight — tightening low in your stomach, burning up your spine.

Ghost suddenly reached down and gripped your throat — not tight, just heavy, possessive — and that was it.

You shattered. Clamping down around him so hard Ghost actually groaned, thrusts going sloppy, brutal. And then you felt it — hot, thick, spilling deep inside you, Ghost’s cock pulsing violently, joining Johnny’s mess inside your ruined cunt.

You lay there twitching, barely conscious, as Ghost finally pulled out — slow, heavy — and watched as his cum immediately leaked out after him.

Johnny's hand was already there — catching it, stuffing it back inside you with lazy, satisfied fingers.

Ghost pulled his gloves back on silently, redressing with mechanical efficiency. Said nothing. Before he left, he pressed one gloved hand to your trembling thigh — firm, approving — and then disappeared out the door without a word.

Johnny leaned down over you, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

"Told ya, sweetheart," he whispered with a wicked grin. "Was gonna fill you proper."

And from the ache in your gut and the obscene mess between your thighs —you knew he wasn’t lying.

Morning hit like a slow, heavy sledgehammer.

You barely even remembered falling asleep — just flashes: Johnny fucking his cum deeper into you with lazy, loving thrusts while you sobbed into the sheets; Ghost’s heavy hand gripping your thigh one last time before disappearing without a word.

Now your entire body ached. Your thighs were sore, trembling even at the slightest twitch. Your pussy was a wreck — raw, swollen, still leaking a slow, lazy drip of milky white that soaked into the crumpled sheets beneath you.

You tried to shift — to roll onto your side — and whimpered immediately. Everything hurt. You could feel the mess drying on your skin, inside your cunt, coating your thighs.

And Johnny, of course, was already awake.

He lay stretched out beside you, arms tucked behind his head, a smug, satisfied smirk spread wide across his face.

"Mornin’, sunshine," he drawled, voice rough from use, eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Sleep well?"

You glared at him weakly, too exhausted to even muster words. Johnny just grinned wider.

"Y’look wrecked," he said cheerfully, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from your sweaty forehead. "Proper job, that."

You tried to move again — a pathetic, sluggish attempt — and Johnny laughed, full-bodied and warm.

"Aw, poor thing. Can’t even fuckin' walk, huh?"

His hand drifted down — over your collarbone, the bruises he’d left, the fingerprints, the possessive marks — until he palmed your lower belly, pressing down just slightly.

You gasped, muscles clenching reflexively around the lingering mess inside you.

Johnny's grin turned wolfish.

"Still full, are ya?" he murmured. "Good girl. Holdin’ it all for us."

He sat up slowly, bare chest gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat, and pulled back the sheets.

You whimpered as cool air brushed your ruined, sore cunt — thighs automatically trying to close, to hide yourself.

Johnny tsked softly, spreading you open with two rough hands like you were something precious to be displayed.

He hummed low in his throat — a sound of satisfaction.

"Ghost’ll be pleased," he muttered, almost to himself.

You blinked sluggishly at him, confused.

Johnny chuckled and gestured toward the nightstand. There — sitting neatly next to a bottle of water — was a simple piece of paper. No name. No explanation. Just three short words, written in Ghost’s heavy, blocky scrawl: “Hold it in.”

Your heart hammered painfully in your chest.

Johnny laughed again — delighted, wrecked — and leaned down to press a filthy, claiming kiss to the inside of your trembling thigh.

"Guess we’re not done after all, love," he whispered against your skin. "Orders are orders."

And from the wicked glint in his eye, you knew you weren’t getting a break anytime soon.

[skyrigel]

Reader who doesn't speak English as their first language and Simon being so in love !!

Over the dinner course, you leaned forward confidently, like you were sharing a secret.

"I think we should buy a baby wheelchair for them."

Price's missus was going to have a baby shower next week.

"Wot?" Simon blinked.

"A baby wheelchair—" You pulled your fist into a punching stance and moved it back and forth, mimicking a tiny car. "Like a baby car… phew phew."

"Oh, that's a stroller." Simon raised a brow, watching your head bobble in a self-absorbed nod.

"Exactly, baby car… stroller."

And it was so cute when you looked up at him whenever you forgot certain words.

"Simon, how do you say in English? The takka-takka-takka—"

"Helicopter," Simon said fondly, earning himself a sweet peck on the lips.

The task force enjoyed it immensely. When Soap said, “Break a leg !” and you raised up a fight at why Simon should break his leg.

Or when Kyle couldn't stop laughing so much with the way you pronounced, “Bitch” to the bird who was hitting up on Simon.

And Simon loved it all, felt love in your eyes through your words, especially when you used his vocabulary—God, it did something to him.

Saying "bugger" when you put too much ketchup, and "bloody freezin’, innit?!" with that corky little smile because you knew how much it wrecked him.

"Bollocks," you would curse, and he’d already be losing his heart and mind, dragging you to the bedroom.

The way you would slip into your native dialect when you were upset, voice rising as you made frustrated noises—Simon would forget the argument entirely, just watching you with that pretty face he’d go to war for.

And something, something about the way you said "I love you" in your native language first, just as softly, and how you called him "my love" in that same way too.

Bloody hell, he’s so in love.

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