gabrielapoe-16

[gabrielapoe-16]

Currently I have this thought of Johnny being the perfect fuck boy (what do you mean by the perfect fuck boy) who has got all this charm and very charismatic aura around him that does attracts men and women alike (my boy bi), and then there is you the nerd who is trying to get dicked down because everyone makes fun of you as the innocent virgin friend.

Johnny has a mate, Simon who is also a fuck boy, but more on the scary side— totally your type, big, buff, scary dog privileges. Oof— but he doesn't do virgins, inexperienced sweethearts; so when you come up to Simon with your request he's flicking you off ain't got time for innocent birds sweet'art and dismissed you.

So you go to his best mate, Johnny ofc to get fucked. And Johnny complies because you're such a sweetheart stuttering and so shy asking and almost on the verge of tears because Simon rejected you. And Johnny does fuck you good, so good but the whole time you're crying on his cock over Simon's rejection.

Johnny has never been turned on and annoyed, he just fucks you harder because Lass I'm the one making ye feel so good, why thinking about that wanker? Hmm?

(in my head simon joins the fuck, it's a threesome)

[gabrielapoe-16]

Blowing a kiss to Johnny “Soap” MacTavish is like pulling the pin on a glitter grenade—you never know where the spark’s gonna land.

It’s always a gamble.

You think you’re being cute.

You think he’ll catch it with a wink, maybe tap his heart like a gentleman.

One moment he’s beaming, catching it mid-air with dramatic flair like it’s a bloody dove, eyes glinting like he’s just intercepted enemy comms. Smacking it dramatically onto his chest with a proud “Ach! Right in the ticker! you spoil me, bonnie.” he’ll murmur, staggering backward like you just shot him with a Cupid .50 cal.

The crowd swoons. Children cheer. Birds sing.

The next time?

Public place. Full squad around. Briefing room. You blow that kiss and he catches it with two hands… locks eyes with you… then—with full confidence and zero shame—plants it straight on his crotch. Smack. Hands on his hips. Grinning like a menace. “That’s where I felt it, lass. Don’t lie.”

Everyone turns.

Gaz groans. Ghost doesn’t even look up. Alejandro claps. And Price? He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters, “For the love of bloody God, Soap…”

Soap just winks at you across the room like he did you a favor.

It’s 50/50 chaos. You blow that kiss, you’re playing Russian Roulette with your dignity.

[gabrielapoe-16]

Imagine being mad at Johnny and you deny him sex as a punishment. He’d notice immediately, not only from your body language but also because you won’t even let him touch you. No ass grabs, no ass slaps, no nothing.

And yes, he’s an ass man mostly.

So he’d look like a kicked puppy as he tried to figure out what was wrong while also not believing you’re doing this to him.

You’d be cooking and he’d slip behind you, his arms slithering around your waist but you move away and he couldn’t help the small whine that escaped his lips.

You’d smirk to yourself as you continue on and he’d try to gently grab your waist and bring you back to him, speaking low and confused “Bonnie..? What is it? Why won’t you let me touch you?”

You’d just pull away again, cause at this point you forgot why you’re mad, it’s just fun to play with him now.

He’d huff slightly and cross his arms, leaning against the counter. He wasn’t going to leave your side until he figured out what was wrong. His eyes were trained on you as you moved through the kitchen, handing you items as well. Only to get a small thank you and no kiss???

He frowned, his eyes getting big and sad “Bonnie..”

At dinner, he ate cause your food is always good but his eyes were still trained on you, your lips. He hasn’t felt them in so so long (a few hours) and it’s absolute torture.

After dinner, he definitely cleaned up (he usually does it but this time you can tell he was waiting for you to notice/say something) and followed you to the living room, sitting as close as possible.

You turned on the tv, ignoring him and it made him break. He turned the tv off, grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards him. “Damnit Bonnie! Talk to me! What’s wrong? What did I do?”

Johnny to you probably

[gabrielapoe-16]

TF141 WHEN YOU CALL THEM BY THEIR FIRST NAMES…

For the first time.

a/n, is this even anything? not proofread

SIMON:

“Aye dare ye!” was all you heard before challenge won over logic and you were off the couch in a second. Ignoring the Scot behind you egging you on, and in search of your broody Lieutenant.

Finally! There he was. In the armory cleaning gear by himself. You felt a pang of guilt for ruining his solitude but Johnny’s words kept echoing in your mind. How horrible that you were so susceptible to his little ‘dares.’ Well, horrible for you. Amazing for Johnny.

You opened the door to the armory, slipping in. Ghost gave you a brief look, unreadable as always. Like he didn’t expect you to be in there for him.

“Need sum’n?” He gruffed out, only looking minimally annoyed at your presence today.

“Yeah. I’m glad I found you, Simon—” He didn’t even allow you to finish your sentence before he was chest-to-chest with you, glaring down at you like you’d cursed his bloodline.

“And where t’fuck d’ya find that name, hm?” He asked, chest heaving slightly.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Johnny! This whole thing was Johnny’s idea,” you laughed, albeit nervously, and he grunted and pushed past you, walking off to surely rip Johnny a new one.

JOHNNY:

It all started as a silly idea. Something that you conjured in your mind, causing your lip to curl into a soft smile. And getting the go-ahead from Kyle? Oh, yes.

Little did you know.

“Aye, hen!” Johnny smiled enthusiastically as he saw you enter the communal kitchen, making some tea right alongside him. “How are ye’?” You smiled softly at his bubbly demeanor, amazed at how he does it everyday.

“‘M tired, Johnny,” you whined, and his eyes snapped to yours. Like you’d just grown another head. And then, he smirked. Smirked. Like he was enjoying this.

He hooked a meaty arm around your neck, laughing in a rough Scottish brogue and ruffling your hair.

“Y’callin’ m’ Johnny, aye? Like y’wanna be m’ li’l birdie? Like y’wanna moan it when I gotcha under me,” he winks and you audibly gasp — shoving him off of you as he cackles until he doubles over.

KYLE:

“Kyle Garrick!” You snap, and he hears it over the music pumping in his ears. He was enjoying the early morning run: crisp, autumn London air filtering through his nose and his lungs, his body thrumming with adrenaline.

Now, even more so.

“‘Scuse me?” He’s taken his headphones out now, shoving them in their case and running backwards to meet you where you stand. God only knows (and barely, at that) where you found the courage to get off calling your Sergeant by his government name, but now, as you see how he roams your body with stormy eyes, you’re regretting it just a little bit.

“I was just going to say.. you didn’t wait for me to tie my shoe.” And Kyle is appalled at your words. Hands in the air, mouth agape and eyebrows raised. Before you can process the fact, his hands are digging into the fabric of your shirt and he has you pressed against a tree.

“Y’called me by my fuckin’ full name for some bullshit like ‘at? Yer lucky I don’t bite yer head off.” Truthfully, you didn’t expect him to be so upset, but he was. You could only make him tea that evening as an olive branch.

Unbeknownst to you, no one called him Kyle. No one except his Captain. And it was off limits to you.

PRICE:

It’s an accident, really. It’s a result of a bomb slowly ticking, and a wire cut haphazardly. Someone stepping on a touchy landmine, and the whole place blowing to smithereens.

“Don’t argue with me, damnit! I am your Captain and I decide the route we take and any criticism can kindly be shoved elsewhere!” He yells, slamming an authoritative hand on the table. Usually the ever open-minded one, he’s denying you that pleasure now. Taking the Captain title by the reigns and running with it.

“If you would just listen! I think we could do something with my idea. I understand I’m new, John, but fuck!” You’re so caught up in suffocating on his tyranny that you don’t clock his reaction for a few seconds. He’s still, dangerously still. Like a lion waiting out it’s prey in tell grass. No one calls him John, not since his mother died, and he’s not even sure how you got ahold of that name.

“It’s ’Captain,’ to you,” he says lowly, the rest of the team having left you to fend for yourself. “Or Price. But never John.” He looks up at you, and you’re nervous now. Like he’s already written up the transfer papers in his mind.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper but he cuts you off with a head shake and a placating hand in the air.

“No, luv. It’s fine. Just caught me off-guard is all.” He says, staring off into the distance like something long dormant and aching has risen inside of him. You gently gesture with open arms, and he’s in them within the minute.

Crumpled down to a grieving man, with a single word.

[gabrielapoe-16]

Johnny whimpers each time he thrusts into you. The sound of his hips slapping against yours accompanies the rhythm of the headboard, hitting the wall gently. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and your arms around his shoulders.

This isn't the first time he's found himself on your bed. It's the third, and he's hooked. You smile, drunk in the pleasure but not as far gone as he is. You press kisses against his lips and cheek, pulling him down closer to where he's almost laying on you.

Your insides feel like molten lava, and the tingles of pleasure zip through you. Johnny barely is saying anything that makes sense.

"Bonnie- fuck- I can't." He whines and grinds his hips against yours. Stirring up your insides. You squeal from the angle and let out a breathy sigh.

"Yeah you can Johnny." You whisper in his ear. "This pussy is yours, and I wanna feel you cum deep in me." You clench your muscles up and feel each drag of his dick even more. The warmth and heaviness of it makes you gasp and you feel him twitch.

"Ye c-can't, fuck fuck fuck," He whines as he starts to jack hammer himself into you. He's chasing his release, "ye cannae say stuff like tha' you'll make me cum too soon." He's over stimulated.

You don't care. Part of the fun is hearing his whiny whore like moans when he cums.

"Come on baby, come on." You're like a siren to his ears. "You can do it. Cum inside of me. You're so close, you can do it."

He gasps, his blue eyes cloudy with pleasure and his hips press against you. He's trembling and whining, barely sounding like the playboy he pretends to be. A long drawn out fuck escapes him through clenched teeth. You watch him, enthralled by how pretty he looks, flushed pink from exertion. Drool dripping down the cor er of his mouth.

You roll yourself and him over so you are on top. He's shocked at the sudden placement. His hands gripped your hips and he throws his head back as you ride him. He's still in the trappings of his orgasm and this is pleasurable torture.

"Bonnie wait, it's too much!" He's trying to slow your movements. "I can't take it, fuck!"

"Yeah you can Johnny, you're doing so good for me." You coo to him. "Just a bit more yeah? Be a good boy for me."

He whimpers and nods his head, "yeah I'm your good boy."

He can feel his cum spill out of you with each roll or bounce of your hips. He wants to be a good boy for you. It's part of the reason he keeps coming back.

[gabrielapoe-16]

still obsessed with the sweet rancher down the way who tips his hat and offers to bring in your groceries turning into the biggest foul mouth werewolf

[gabrielapoe-16]

John Price is definitely the type to kiss you after you sucked his dick.

Frankly he does not care, what’s his is yours and what yours is his.

He’s a grown man, only little boys worry about shit like that, it’s simple really.

So naturally he wants those plump lips that sucked him until he saw stars on his own mouth. Tasting his cum as he intertwines your tongues together.

It’s wet, it’s sloppy, moans and his grunts bounce off the walls like a symphony. You can barley breath as he explored your pretty mouth, you have to shove him off just a bit, a string of saliva leaving your lips when you pull away.

“Fuck me birdie,” he whispers as he looks at the state of you, disheavled, curls covering half your face, dark nipples hard and your wet cum covering your boarderline sore cunt, down to your thighs.

“Let me eat your pussy luvie, need you.”

You can only hiccup, a sheepish nod as you let him lay you flat on the bed, lifting your leg over his shoulder and letting his tongue meet the inner pink of your cunt.

He’s starting the process over again, eating you out till your dizzy and your legs are shaking just so he can have you taste yourself of his lips.

Let you mesh your lips together, again, and again, and again till you’re completely one.

a/n: on a nasty writing kick on a Sunday morning. You can’t make this shit up. Was practically begging the audience to put me in the game all week! Shameless!John being a freak? Love it!!

most recent masterlist shameless!John

[gabrielapoe-16]

I got like an idea-

Have you seen those art trends where it’s like- “Us after pound town”?

The one recording is like covered in hickeys, bruises, bitemarks etc but is completely fine and eating their meal? Then they flip the camera and it’s the top who is like wrecked. Heavily panting, shaking, unable to eat their food.

Imagine that- but the 141 x reader 😂

mdni

Reader: happily eating their meal like the 141 didn’t blow their back out less than an hour ago.

Price: all deep breathing and forced focus—pretends (and fails to hide) that his hand isn’t shaking every time it emerges from under the table.

Soap: hisses every time he tries to rest his back against the booth (it’s covered in scratches.)

Gaz: can’t pick up his silverware because his fingers and hands are sore from staying in the same position while bringing you orgasm after orgasm.

Ghost: winces every time he moves because his dick is sore from you milking every drop.

main masterlist

[gabrielapoe-16]

[gabrielapoe-16]

Poly!141 x Fem!Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 1)

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Warnings: Feelings of jealousy, regret and anger

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Johnny was running to the base; thoughts racing through his mind at the news he’d just heard. 

You were getting married. 

Married. 

The words were like poison in his mind. 

He was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to find out that news, given how her friend suddenly stopped mid sentence before quickly saying goodbye to him.  

He needed to tell the others; so that they could come up with a plan to stop this wedding from happening at all. 

“Guys,” Johnny panted as all but burst into his Captains office; not considering whether or not John was in a meeting. 

Thankfully he wasn’t. 

And the only people that were in the room; were the very people he’d hoped were here. 

John, Kyle and Simon. 

“Johnny?” Simon’s voice came first, taking two long strides to the door, wondering what the hell had gotten Johnny so worked up. 

“Are you okay?” Kyle followed Simon, stopping just short of the panting man by the door; putting his hand on his back in an attempt to soothe the emotions Johnny was feeling; that no one could really place.  

John remained in the chair behind his desk, watching Johnny with a worried look in his eyes. 

“She’s getting married,” Johnny continued, leaning against the doorframe attempting to catch his breath. 

A confused silence filled the room.

John, Simon and Kyle all glancing at one another before turning their attention back to Johnny. 

“Y/n,” the Scotsman clarified, “Y/ns getting married.”

Suddenly the sargents emotional entrance had a cause. 

“To who?” Kyle questioned, feeling like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. 

“I don’t know his name, I just know it’s happening,” Johnny explained, wiping some of the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand; his eyes darting between the two men in front of him. 

Kyle looked how Johnny felt, shocked. 

Simon however remained neutral, at least in his facial expressions. His eyes told another story. There was a hurt flickering within his lieutenants eyes, something that people may have missed but Johnny, knowing him so well, didn’t. 

“How do you know?” John asked, his tone surprisingly calm as he lit one of his cigars. 

“Her friend told me,” Johnny replied, moving past Kyle and Simon to look at John, “We need to do something,” 

“What can we do?” John posed the question as though stopping you from getting married wasn’t a big deal. 

It was. 

“John-”

“She’s not our girl anymore, Johnny,” John stated firmly, not backing down from his viewpoint as Johnny uttered a string of Gaelic curse words under his breath. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” the Scotsman finally snapped; lashing out at Johns dismissiveness to the situation.

“Johnny-” Simon spoke, his tone low and warning as Johns continued his outburst. 

“If she knew the truth, she’d still be here with us,”

“But she doesn’t and she can’t,” John argued back, rising from his chair, fury burning in his blue eyes, “That’s the end of the matter, Sargent,” 

Before Johnny could say anything else he felt Simon’s large hand on his shoulder, slowly guiding him out of the room; leaving Kyle and John in the office. 

“John-”

“Kyle,” John sighed, “Just don’t,”

 His tone was no longer angry but simply defeated, as he sat back in his chair. 

He knew what Kyle was going to say.

It was the same thing that he’d been saying since you’d left. 

But much to his surprise the words that left Kyle’s mouth caught John completely off guard, “At least she’s happy, she deserves that...”

That was all he said before leaving John in his office alone.

At least she’s happy.

Those words made something twist inside John, unable to stop the little voice in his mind from continually saying “she should be happy with us,”

And you were. 

All of you were so happy together. 

Before everything changed. 

He wished he could’ve explained to you what had happened.

How they did what they did to protect you.  

But he couldn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

He swore to himself that he never would; that he would let you live your life however you wanted to, without interfering. 

But the more he thought of you marrying someone, the more it made his heart ache, mournful of the future you could’ve had with them. 

And there was another feeling, one more primal than his aching heart. 

You were marrying someone else; which meant that they’d probably kissed you, touched you, fucked you….

Someone else had touched what was theirs…and that made the Captain of the 141 enraged. 

Johnny was right; his answer of “she’s not our girl anymore” was complete bullshit; no matter how hard he tried to force himself into believing it, he couldn’t. 

Not really. 

Not completely. 

Leaving the Captain at the impasse in his office…the logical thing to do was to let you live your life in peace; but the more irrational part of Johns brain wanted nothing more than to do exactly what Johnny had suggested and stop this wedding from happening. 

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @mermaniaa @fangirlsfandomsss @book-dragon03 @sunrise-willarive @amniotic115 @imdeadontheinside786 @asterionex @pinkyyoshi @yaradigital @euriiverse @eternallyvenus @littlejoyfulthings @s-void @rivwritesiguess @lilyalone @mrstelford @rabbittmoons @bookworm1767 @salemlovespies @amongthe141

[gabrielapoe-16]

thinking about john “i’m not fond of kids” price hardly getting any sleep, because poor single mom!reader takes ages to shush her little one after a crying fit.

he shuffles out of his apartment and strides to the door next to his own, knocking irritably. even if it was almost three in the morning, there’s footsteps padding up, the door opening to reveal you—eyes sunken, bags under your bags, feebly cradling your little baby as it wails for seemingly no reason.

all of john’s frustration is out the window the moment he notices your exhaustion, like you’d gotten even less sleep than him.

after a few hushed words drowned out over your baby’s cries, he offers to hold it. you hesitate at first, but in all honestly, it was your last resort. you’d tried bottles, breastfeeding, pacifiers, music—every possible option. this was the best you’ve got.

at first, john holds it wrong, and you correct him by bringing his palm behind your little one’s head to support its weight. you jolt when your baby reaches for the big man’s muttonchops, your heart dropping. you didn’t want to upset him even further.

but instead, he stops you, letting your baby fist his beard in a weak grip. you expect a grumble of disapproval, or a frown when your baby tugs, but no. john is smiling.

grumpy ol’ john price was smiling at your baby, albeit wearily.

he shifts the baby to hold it in one of his arms, using his now free hand to oh so gently take your little one’s hand off of his beard.

the moment your baby fists his index finger—its hand barely closing around his digit—he feels his heart melt. and when it smiles and coos at him?

his whole perception on babies changes.

and fortunately for you, your little one needed a daddy.

price masterlist → a place for two more

[gabrielapoe-16]

Johnny strutting up to older!reader in a bar with the tired “can I buy ye a drink” and you just look him up and down and ask “oh baby. How old are you? Where’s your dad?” In the most condescending yet sweet voice he’s ever heard and the man is lowkey bricked up. He’s stunned just staring at you stuttering out “ ‘m 26” You look over his shoulder to the rest of the 141 sitting at a table. “Either come back in ten years or send your mutton chops daddy over. Ok sweetheart” your hand is shooing him away and he’s walking a little stiff bc you just unlocked a kink in him he did not know he had.

[gabrielapoe-16]

Outside of work, you live in your loungewear, so you’ve made it a habit to immediately shed your work pants when you get home. You don't think about it too much anymore until you start dating Johnny.

The first time you strip your pants in the entryway while he’s over, Johnny takes it as an open invitation where he's between your legs before you can even explain yourself. It's a while before you make it any further into your home and even longer before your legs stop wobbling.

Johnny's like a dog now, eagerly awaiting your return and rushing to the door when he hears the lock turning. Ready to yank those restrictive pants off of you like the helpful boyfriend he is.

[gabrielapoe-16]

Johnny would sketch how he imagines your tits to look like in that little notebook of his.

God forbid you find it by accident one day and see the skimpy, sexy drawings of you in tiny little spaghetti strap tops that barely cover your tits spilling out of the top and sides of it. As well as detailed drawings of your bare tits smushed together…

[gabrielapoe-16]

The anon button is not for hate. The anon button is for horny and embarrassed about it.

[gabrielapoe-16]

pathetic slow sex w steven grant,,,, hrrgghhhhh,,,, oh i can just imagine his gasps when he first enters you.

he can’t even contain his noises as his jaw goes slack, eyes flutter closed when his hips come to a halt , “h-hold on love- give me a second-“ he shakily asks, british accent almost high pitched as he fight off the urge to look between your bodies, he doesn’t want to see how you’re wrapped around him, he can’t handle the sight of your lips parted because of his intrusion.

[gabrielapoe-16]

soap is one filthy bastard. lowkey thinking about what he’s doing after you’re all spent and cockdrunk from sex. (when he’s really just pussydrunk)

he’ll spread your legs apart, watching as a line of his cum dribbled from between your folds, the sight encouraging his mouth to water. he’s staring for a few beats, admiring the mess he made, before swiping his phone off the bedside table.

“what’re you doing, baby?” you mumble, tipping your head down to watch as he hovers his phone a few inches from your dripping pussy.

“jus’ takin’ somethin’ fer latah,” he croons, swiping a finger down to play with his cum, wiping it around your puffy folds like he was painting a work of art.

you whimper as the tip of his pointer finger rolled over your clit, your insides convulsing around nothing at the contact.

it only pushed out more of his cum. johnny licked his lower lip at the sight, his cock stirring at your little noises. “tha’s it, look a’ that pretty pussy… bonnie fuckin’ thin’.”

the flash goes off once, twice, as he snaps his desired photos. “fulla mah fuckin’ cum.”

his phone is back on the bedside table with a muted thump, and you start to stir. you had to clean up after two rounds, right?

but johnny’s hands are pressing into your thighs to keep you in place, his eyes fixed on your leaking cunt.

and there you see his cock, thick, heavy, and achingly hard, resting on the dip of your pelvis.

“‘old on, snookums, wanna see if i c’n get a betta pic.”

it was gonna be a long night.

soap masterlist