#John soap mactavish fanfiction

[gloomwitchwrites]

By the Belt (3 of 4)

Mechanic John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: married couple, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

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

Soap needs a distraction, and you’re going to give it to him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // by the belt masterlist

It’s Sunday. John’s shop is closed on Sunday.

Even so, he’s always working on something, his hands unable to lean into idleness for a moment. They desire something to hold, to tinker and learn and explore.

It’s the late afternoon, and you stand in John’s personal garage located at the back of your shared property. His actual shop is nearby, just a mile or so down the road. This is sacred space. The place he goes to work on all sorts of personal projects. You are off to the right of him beside his knees. John is on his back, partially submerged beneath a lifted car.

That always makes you nervous, even though you know he’s careful about his safety. You always imagine the machine keeping the car aloft breaking, sending the vehicle down to crush him. The car itself is vintage, a special project that John has been working on for months. The paint is stripped and its mostly bare bones.

Beneath the car, you hear John sigh heavily. He rolls out from under the car, the wheels on the rolling bed squeaking as he does so. When he notices you standing there, he immediately grins.

“Hello, wife,” he croons, sitting up and draping his forearms over his bent knees.

“Hello, husband,” you reply, matching his tone. His smile widens and a warmth blooms in your cheeks. “Thought you could use a break.”

Grinning, he pushes up to standing, crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of break?”

With boldness in your blood, you reach out and slide your fingers in the belt loops of his dirty jeans. John stumbles forward, nearly knocking into you. That grin briefly transforms into surprise before settling into a sultry smirk.

“Oh, aye. I could use a break.” He leans in, your mouths meeting in a lovingly gentle kiss that warms you right down to your toes. When he breaks apart, that lovely grin is back. “But I’d hate to dirty your pretty skin with my hands.”

You tug on his belt again, smiling. “What if I want to get dirty?”

John laughs, his stained, oiled fingers hovering just shy of your skin. “You sure, love? Because I can do that.” Your answer is a brief yank on his belt. John shakes his head. “I warned you.”

You unthread your fingers and John makes a turn-around gesture. You comply, eagerness in your bones.

“Bend yourself over that table.” John points directly in front of you. It’s a workbench. There are a few tools but they’re off to the side, leaving the middle completely open.

Stepping up to it, you place your hands flat on the surface, bending forward, the angle forcing you up on your toes. John leaves you there. Lingering. Hanging. You have no idea if he’s watching you and enjoying the sight, or if he’s simply turned around and walked right out of the garage.

But you have your answer when John’s voice floats toward you.

“Lift up your dress,” he instructs, some rasp in his tone. He does not touch you, but you feel his presence. He’s close. You swear that you can feel his heat of the backs of your thighs as you reach back with both hands and lift your sundress up to your hips.

You are exposed to him. Utterly bare.

“Fuck. You dirty girl,” croons John, and you know exactly what he sees—or rather, what he doesn’t. “All bare under there. You knew what you were doing. Didn’t you?”

You did. You absolutely did.

Still, John does not touch. You hear the soft crinkle of his jeans as he goes down on his knees behind you, his warm breath brushing lightly against your pussy as he exhales.

“Spread for me a bit.” You shift your legs apart slightly. “Good,” he praises. “Like that.”

The moment you’re in position, John’s tongue parts your pussy with a slow stroke. He begins at your clit, moves upward, dipping the tip of his tongue into your sex before retreating. His hands rest on the table on either side of you, unmoving. Staying true to his word, John isn’t dirtying your pretty skin, but doesn’t mean he might not lose some control and touch you anyway.

Really, that’s what you want after all.

Using just his tongue, John traces circles, swirls up and down your sex, moves in languid motions that have you guessing. Every nerve is burning up like a sparkler. Your husband is teasing you, and fucking enjoying that he’s doing so.

He leaves nothing untouched, nothing untasted. Whimpering, John lightly kisses your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. It’s not nearly enough.

“Stay still,” he chuckles, when your hips buck with wanton irritation. “Let me finish my meal.”

John’s mouth promptly returns, and you know you’re done. Utterly done. Brain dead. Air rapidly leaving a balloon. He sucks on your clit, then penetrates you with his tongue, only to do it all again. With each, he sucks just a bit harder, bordering on painful pleasure.

The next one has you nearly coming off the table.

“I’m gonna fuck you after this, love,” groans John. “Bloody hell, you’re sweet.”

He dives in and your nails dig into the tabletop, your voice cracking as you orgasm. You feel his smile against your flesh before his mouth disappears from it, only to be replaced by the familiar sound of unzipping jeans.

The head of his cock presses at your entrance but doesn’t penetrate. John lightly guides the head back and forth through your slickness, the sound of it echoing loudly in the garage.”

“Will you be a good girl and take it?”

You nod enthusiastically, strands of your hair shifting to stick against the back of your neck. “Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

With a low moan, John starts to press in, your body not resisting, only wanting him inside. You both groan loudly as he bottoms out. Adjusting, John places his hands firmly above your head, anchoring himself.

He breathes deep, and reaches for your wrists, one at a time, trapping them against the table. John rolls his hips, thrusts lightly against you. It’s the perfect angle. You feel everything.

John increases the pace. Those light, almost shallow thrusts become languid and long, hitting deep when your bodies come together. From there, his thrusts turn sharp, a smacking pace that stings your flesh. You hardly care. John’s cock inside you is heaven, the thing just to ease the lust in your bones.

Every stroke is lovely, sending shivers of pleasure through your limbs. Your little moans become breathy exhales, your words leaving your lips silently, delivered only to the quietness of the air.

John’s head dips, his lips brushes over your exposed shoulder as he continues to thrust. “Gonna come inside you, love.”

It is not a question, and you will always say yes even if he asks.

His last few thrusts shake the table, the legs scaping against the concrete just before John holds his hips flush to yours. The groan as he finishes comes from deep within his throat. It’s a primal sound.

Glancing up, you watch as his grip on your wrists shift. He’s left some of that grease behind from working on the car on your skin. He said he wouldn’t mar it, but he couldn’t resist, and that feels like a victory.

John presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you tilt your head in his direction, seeking his gaze, even as he keeps himself inside you.

“Good break?” you murmur.

John chuckles. “Oh, aye.” He shrugs, nods toward your wrists. “But we need to get clean.”

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[lazybutsmexy]

To good use

John "Soap" Mactavish x teacher!Reader

Johnny's mind works at breakneck speed, and you know how to slow him down.

Warnings: none! pure fluff, Johnny has ADHD. GN!Reader.

Words: 700~

A/N: Just a thing I came up with while preparing my lesson plans.

He stands up from the couch, completely disregarding the current football match. His team wasn’t doing well and he grew restless. His bare feet thudded on the wooden floor and took him to the kitchen, from where moments later the scent of freshly made coffee waltzed to you. 

You simply let out a soft puff of air, too focused on your task at hand - making sure your scissors didn’t stray a millimeter from the lines you had carefully designed on the brightly coloured craft paper. 

A soft ‘thunk’ signaled the presence of a steaming, fresh cup of coffee in front of you. “Thank you, Johnny,” you smiled up at him as he leaned down to peck your cheek. Immediately after, he shuffled over to the large window overseeing the front yard. 

The rain smacked heavily into the glass, as if attempting to break in. It wouldn’t - Johnny had made sure that the flimsy single-glass panels were replaced by bulletproof glass the moment you had agreed to date him all those years ago. He loved you and cherished you that much. 

You peered at him out of the corner of your eye. The sports commentator shouted another goal for the rival team, but you had a sneaking suspicion he didn’t hear it. 

His fingers twitched, and he clenched his hands a few times to relieve the tension. Soon, his fingers found themselves combing through his mohawk. The hair was soft, freshly conditioned after weeks. 

You could see the signals. He was itching for something to do. He couldn’t go on a run to wear himself down, nor even to smoke a cigarette in his storm. 

It was the part of his character that made you fall in love with him. His romantic spontaneity was born from his ever-working mind, and all the ways his thoughts zeroed in you. It was also his greatest flaw - if you could even call it that. When he lived with a mind that was always speeding at breakneck speed, left unchecked would give him - and you - whiplash. 

You snipped the last bit of paper in your hand and glanced at the rest of the materials on your workspace with an idea simmering in between your eyebrows. 

Forcing out a yawn and a stretch worked like a charm to bring his attention back to you. 

“Tired, bonnie?” he smiled, and by God, you could watch him smile for the rest of your days and be happy. He glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned slightly. “‘s pretty late, you almost done?”

“No,” you moaned pitifully, and drove the point home with a pout and batting eyelashes, “I need help with this if I want to go to sleep before midnight.” 

Immediately Johnny was dragging a chair and sitting down in front of you. “Tell me what to do, I’ll help.” Even though he tried to show a finality in his decision to help, you caught the hidden eagerness in his voice. 

Your beaming smile seemed to punch all thoughts away from his head as you handed him a stack of colourful paper strips. “Use that glue to stick the tips together to make rings, please,” you instructed him, and he immediately took the tiny tub of glue, “I need them arranged into a chain, the colour order isn’t important.” 

Johnny nodded once and muttered a soft “copy” before carefully getting to work. The way he delicately handled the strips showed you that your little plan had worked wonders. You turned your attention to the ornaments you had been working on - only half-made, so the kids would finish the work and get the credit, of course. 

“Thank you, Johnny,” he barely glanced up at your voice, obviously fully focused on his new super important task, “you’re a life-saver.”

His little chuckle and the bump of his ankle against yours under the table filled you with warmth, “‘course, can’t leave my bonnie struggling.”

You somehow held back an eyeroll and swallowed the ‘likewise’ that almost escaped your lips. You’d let him take the credit too. 

Taglist: @warenai @embers-of-alluring @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts

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[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Pose For Me

Task Force 141, Alejandro, Rudy & Reader John "Soap" MacTavish X Reader

Price and Ghost had seen the way the two of you watched one another, chuckling to themselves at how smitten Soap was after only a few hours. They all knew better than to pursue anything when on duty, never ended well anyway.

a/n:thank you so much for all the love on my Price fic! this one is an idea I bounced off @gaylemonshark and honestly you can all thank them for this warnings:none except for Soap being a major simp

It had been Laswell’s idea, a way to help raise money for charity and what better way than a “sexy” calendar. Price had damn near doubled over with laughter, they wanted him and his team to pose for a calendar? And not think it was an outrageous idea at all? Doubtful. There was no way in hell any of them would be willing to do something so ridiculous.

“I’ll do it, sounds fun.” Soap was the first one to agree, damn near vibrating in his seat with excitement.

It didn’t take long for Gaz to agree, followed by Alejandro, Rudy, and then Ghost. Once Price knew that Ghost was willing to pose, eck, for the photos he couldn’t disagree. How hard could it be? They’d be told what to do the entire time anyway, surely it would go smoothly and then they could relax for a little while longer. That included getting on a plane and flying back to the US, why couldn’t they go somewhere closer? Price wasn’t going to argue, it meant a few days off from working and right now he wanted to sleep.

“Don’t flirt with the photographer please.” Laswell had her eyes locked on Soap, who merely raised his hands with an innocent shrug.

“That’s exactly what he’s going to do.” Gaz snickered when Soap glared over at him, this was going to be a long day.

“Boys, please.” Laswell pinched the bridge of her nose, waiting for you to arrive.

Price had been scoping out the area like normal, even if the average person would think he was strange for doing so. It was a habit he’d been unable to break for years, and this day was going to be no different. The double doors opening across the room caught everyone’s attention, Laswell was thankful she’d stripped them of their guns at that point.

“Hey! Sorry I’m so late, I had to run back home for my bag.” You dropped your stuff onto the closest table and began to pull everything out.

The lights had already been set up, as well as the backdrops to help speed things along so you wouldn’t have to waste anymore time. Luckily the first round of photos would be more safe, they’d be wearing their fatigues and posing on a large gothic chair. The chair design hadn’t been your idea at first, but after some convincing you decided to use it. As you were laying out your equipment all eyes were suddenly on Soap who was nearly drooling over you.

“Down boy.” Ghost smirked under his mask as Soap righted himself, clearing his throat as his cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

Once you had gotten the camera set up for the still shots you took a step back to look at your models for the day. You quickly introduced yourself to help ease any tension in the room, though you were sure they’d gotten a full background check beforehand.

“Alright, we’re going to start with some simple poses and then move on to some other fun ones.” You were excited, given the fact that all the men in front of you were insanely attractive.

“I’ll go first, show these boys how it’s done.” Alejandro was confident, striding over to the chair and relaxing effortlessly.

You giggled to yourself and started to snap a few photos, giving him different positions and poses until you were satisfied with what you had. Gaz was all too happy to rush over next, introducing himself in front of the camera before posing. He was clearly a natural at modeling, something you were a little surprised by. Then again most people were more comfortable when they were fully clothed. Gaz gave a cheeky salute when you sent him away, winking playfully.

“Next victim please.” You straightened your back for a few seconds, groaning as your spine cracked loudly.

Rudy was a little more nervous, poses stiff and uncomfortable until you helped ease him into something that looked more natural. It was normal for people to not like being photographed, but he wanted to help people and that warmed your heart. Towards the end of his shoot he seemed to truly open up, a bright smile on his face lighting up the room.

“Thank you!” Rudy walked off to meet with the wardrobe, unaware of what they had in store.

“Alrighty, whose next.” You were beyond grateful the men weren’t giving you a hard time, most male models were worse than the women.

The man that walked over sent a chill down your spine, the mask covering his face left everything to the imagination. His eyes were sharp, an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Wow, you’re really tall.” You could faintly make out his brow rising beneath the mask, as if he was confused by your statement.

“Comes with the territory.” He plopped down into the chair, the legs groaning beneath his weight.

You simply shrugged and began taking photos, keeping your gaze on the giant of a man in front of you. He was even more of a natural than Alejandro which kind of shocked you. Having a group be so photogenic was nice for a change. Then again, how were they going to react to the next phase?

“Thank you! You’re all set.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face, mainly to hide the nerves that were bubbling up inside.

He didn’t say a word as he walked off, following one of the assistants to “prepare” for the next set of photos. Your eyes locked on the next man, he looked proud of himself as he walked over to you.

“Pleasure to meet you, thank you for making my men feel more comfortable.” Ahh, so this was clearly their Captain.

“Just doing my job sir.” You nodded at him, waiting until he was ready before snapping the first photo.

He, like Rudy, was a little stiff at first before finding a rhythm that seemed to work best. He seemed more than happy to keep taking photos, cracking a few jokes to make you laugh. It worked surprisingly well, keeping you more calm until you felt you had enough pictures. You shooed him off, not wanting to waste any time since you only had the studio for that day. And then there was only one person left, and damn was he a cutie.

“Aye there, ‘m Soap.” He was smiling like a fool, nearly falling onto his face as he tripped over his own feet.

“Nice to meet you.” You couldn’t help but giggle when he blushed, hiding his face for a brief second before composing himself.

So far he was your favorite to photograph, from the way he smiled to the way he seemed to exude sunshine. You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, he was such a charmer and he’d barely even spoken a sentence to you. Damnit, why did you have to get the cute ones that were never single?

“Thank you Soap, you’re free to go for now.” You set the camera down, taking out the memory card to slide into your laptop.

He was hesitant to leave, watching you with close eyes before heading off to where the rest of his team had gone. Alejandro had been more than ready to strip off his shirt and get oiled up, going out of his way to help Rudy build up the confidence. The men knew they had the physical attributes most men, and women, fawned over. But modeling it felt a little more personal in his eyes. Ghost had begrudgingly taken off his coat and shirt, taking the bottle from the assistant and lathering his skin quickly. Price raised a brow at him but kept all thoughts to himself to spare the other man’s feelings.

“Hey, are you guys almost ready to go?” You popped your head inside, brain short circuiting as you took everyone in.

They’d told you what the day entailed, but seeing it in person was a completely different story. You’d figured some of them would have scars, being in the military came with baggage you’d never begin to understand, but seeing six men oiled up and looking like snacks? You were amazed you were even still standing.

“Lass, could you uhh, help me please?” Soap was holding out the bottle to you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Umm..yeah, of course.” You took the bottle without giving yourself time to second guess your actions, pouring a generous amount into your palm.

He turned so his back was to you, shoulders relaxed as he let you go to town. His skin was softer than you’d been expecting, the muscles beneath were damn near rock hard. How the hell were you supposed to focus after this?!

“You’re all set.” You dropped your hands to your sides, voice breathy as your head tilted back to look up at him.

“Thank you lass.” His smile was enough to melt the polar ice caps, jesus you were done for.

“Mmm, if you boys don’t mind I’m going to clean my hands and get ready for the next shoot.” In reality you needed to not only clean your hands, but clear your mind so you could focus.

Price and Ghost had seen the way the two of you watched one another, chuckling to themselves at how smitten Soap was after only a few hours. They all knew better than to pursue anything when on duty, never ended well anyway.

“Let’s go boys.” Price led them back out to the area, noticing the small subtle changes.

The lighting had been dimmed, giving everyone a more somber vibe. The order had been the same as before, each one posing in different ways until you were satisfied. Ghost’s photos, while a little darker, had an edge that set him apart from everyone else. Soap had used his body to his advantage, flexing and stretching to highlight the best parts of himself. You’d nearly dropped the camera when he sat down in the chair, legs spread wide open.

“Look at you, soaking up all the attention.” Gaz snickered, watching the way you were nearly fumbling everything trying to stay calm.

“‘S what I do best.” Soap smirked over at the other man, giving you the perfect opportunity to capture the best photo of him.

You were thankful to send the boys off once more, letting them know there would be plenty of towels to help get rid of any excess body oil. Price had mumbled that it was going to be stuck in his chest hair for the next few weeks. You felt bad, somewhat, but there was only one more photo to take before you’d be done for the end of the day. In a way you were a little sad to be sending them away, they were some of your best models, in both looks and attitude.

“Alright boys, one more and then you can all leave and complain about the girl that made you oil up for photos.” Laswell knew they wouldn’t hold it against you, but watching them complain was sometimes fun.

You had them all line up, cracking a joke that made everyone laugh as you took the photo. It was simplistic and perfect. Most people would complain they looked terrible whenever someone took a candid shot, but this showed the true side of these men. Even Ghost, the man you were definitely afraid of, was grinning.

“Thank you guys so much for coming today, when I have the photos edited I’ll send them to you for final approval before sending them off to be printed.” You’d be spending the next few weeks at minimum looking over these photos. Everything had to be perfect.

Soap wrung his hands together, slightly nervous as he watched you begin to pack up your gear carefully. Should he make a fool of himself and ask you out to dinner since they’d be around for a few more days, or should he cut his losses and let you go. Ghost subtly, if you could call it that, shoved him towards where you were standing. He turned to glare at the other man, brushing nonexistent lint off his shirt before walking over to your side.

“Hey, umm, I was wonderin’ if you’d be interested in goin’ to dinner with me?” Soap was nervous, something he couldn’t shake no matter what.

“Oh! I umm…Yes, that would be lovely.” You were shocked to say the least, not expecting this stunning man to ask you on a date.

“Great! Here.” He pulled his phone out from his pocket and shocked it into your hands.

You smiled and typed your number into his phone, sending yourself a text so that you’d have his number as well. Normally you were very against going out with any models you worked with, especially someone in the military. You mainly hoped this wouldn’t blow up in your face if it happened to go badly. It’s only one date, how bad could it be?

______

“You nervous?” Price knew that Soap was damn near shitting himself, even if the other man wouldn’t admit it.

“Not at all, everything’s fine.” He’d changed outfits twice, and lost his phone four times.

It was funny to watch the normally composed Soap practically run himself ragged over a woman he just met, but it also worried Price. What if she ended up breaking his heart before the end of the night? He’d be a mess the rest of the time they were on leave, and nothing was worse than an upset Soap.

“You might wanna head out, time’s a tickin’.” Ghost had been the one to mention the time, sending Soap into a frenzy as he ran out of the hotel.

You’d been dropped off by the uber less than two minutes before he was walking over to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Hey, hope you weren’t waiting long.” Johnny was more nervous now, heart rate kicking up at the sight of you.

“Not at all, just got here actually.” You brushed down the skirt of your dress.

“Shall we?” He held out his arm, laying his hand overtop of yours when you wrapped your fingers around his bicep.

The walk to the restaurant was short, and you were thankful you’d worn your more comfortable heels. Even with the slight boost in your height he still towered over you, and that was definitely doing something for you.

“What is your name exactly? Unless you’d like me to call you by your codename for the rest of the night.” The words sounded much more insidious than you’d intended, but the night was still young.

“Johnny.” He sounded much more confident saying his name than he had the entire day, it was cute.

The restaurant was quiet when you arrived, the hostess leading you two to a secluded table towards the back. He pulled out your chair, making sure he had a clear view of everyone else in case something were to happen. Even when he wanted to shut off his brain and enjoy the moment it wasn’t easy. Nothing would happen, he was sure of it.

“Thank you, for coming out with me tonight.” Though he felt embarrassed to admit it, he hadn’t been on a date in quite a long time.

“Thank you for asking me out to dinner.” You smiled at him, resting your hand over top of his on the table.

Johnny would never admit how badly his palms were sweating, the way his heart kicked into high gear. Now he was no blushing virgin, but there was something different about you that he was drawn to.

The night was what both of you would consider perfect, from the food, to the conversation that never seemed to dull down. You were both laughing at corny jokes, and even sharing food as if you’d done this a thousand times before. You didn’t want the night to end, ready to throw caution to the wind and invite him back up to your apartment. Unfortunately you knew that would be a bad idea, realistically he’d go back to base and you wouldn’t see him for a while.

Johnny refused to let you pay, let alone put down a tip, for the bill, claiming that he’d been the one to ask you out. It was a courteous gesture and you could feel your resolve slipping more and more with each second. He waited outside the restaurant with you until your uber arrived, wanting to make sure you at least got home safe.

“Don’t be a stranger, though I can’t promise I’ll be able to reply often.” He didn’t want to lie and say he’d be talking to you all the time, it wasn’t true.

“As long as you stay safe, that’s all that matters to me.” You turned to face him as the car pulled up beside you.

He cupped your cheek gently, pressing his lips against yours softly. You wound your arms around his neck, pulling him flush to your body as your lips moved in tandem with his. He wanted to keep kissing you forever, never letting the moment end. However he knew you had to get home and work on editing the new photos.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” Johnny was the first to pull away, leaving you breathless.

You could only nod, opening the car door and slipping into the backseat. Johnny watched you leave, a sad smile on his face. He wasn’t sure when he’d get to see you again, but he’ll be damned if it wasn’t soon enough.

_______

They were out on a mission when the photos were sent to Laswell for approval, she promised not to look at any of them until everyone was safe. It was burning a hole in her pocket, both excited and nervous to see what had been chosen as the “perfect” shot. There were minor injuries, which was to be expected, but overall everyone came back alive.

“Hello boys, I have some presents for you.” She laid the manilla folder on the table in front of them.

Everyone reached for the folder at once, stopping when Laswell pressed her hand overtop of it to prevent anyone from grabbing it.

“Now, you better behave and not make any remarks about your photos. Got it?” Laswell wouldn’t deal with the team pissing each other off.

“Yes ma’am.” They spoke in unison, which to anyone else would’ve been unnerving.

Laswell was used to it.

She took out both photos for everyone, handing them face down so they could look at them and inspect without someone else being nosy. Ghost was a little nervous to see what he looked like, he hadn’t been paid a lot of compliments in his day. The photo in front of him, while he was still fully clothed, was, in lack of a better term, gorgeous. The light reflected off his mask so effortlessly, giving the illusion of a lightness he didn’t think he had. The second photo, which he’d come to call his “skin” photo, had him taking a second glance. Was that truly him? The lighting was subtle enough to hide the scars that riddled his body, skin glistening.

“Well shit, I’d say she picked some damn good photos.” Laswell was impressed to say the least, the photos would definitely sell a lot of calendars.

“Gotta admit, she caught our good sides.” Gaz was proud of how he looked, he was tempted to ask if he could use it on his dating profile.

“Now I want to make sure you’re all comfortable with these before I give anyone the go ahead.” Laswell wasn’t going to do anything without their permission.

Everyone was in agreement that the photos could be used, there was no harm in what they were doing and everyone’s identities were protected. Soap was still staring down at his, a small smile on his face.

“What’s got you so giddy?” Ghost leaned over to get a better look, eyes widening when he realized that you’d snuck in something a little more special for him.

“Just a little gift.” Soap pulled the photos closer to himself, keeping them out of everyone’s view.

“I’ll give her a call tonight and give her the go ahead. Thank you boys.” Laswell nodded before leaving, giving the boys enough time to speak up if they weren’t comfortable.

The room fell silent, save for the sound of photos shuffling and breathing as the men took in the photos more.

“Safe to say she did amazing, don’t think I’ve looked this good in a while.” Price knew he was attractive, but seeing this side of him felt even better.

“I agree, but I have to make a phone call, I’ll be back later.” Soap pushed his chair away from the table, leaving the two photos behind as he slid a smaller polaroid into his wallet.

It was no secret to any of them that the two of you were going steady, being forced to listen to the Scotsman blabber about how amazing you were. The phone calls were few and far between, mainly because of his profession. He wanted to take you on another date, show you how better of a boyfriend he could be. It just took time, and you were willing to wait as long as it took.

[mlmxreader]

Loyalty Is Weakness | John Soap MacTavish x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Could I request "That quick tongue of yours is gonna get us into shit" with Soap please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ loyalty is a terrible thing, a fatal thing.

: ̗̀➛ MCD/Major Character Death, swearing, gore and blood, war crimes (mentioned)

↳ @mockerycrow @seigwaidau

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You and Soap did everything you could to be close to one another. From the years back in secondary school, you had always been unnaturally close. Practically sitting on each other's laps during science lessons, always touching one way or another even when you weren't supposed to be.

You could never be far from one another. When teachers forced you to sit on opposite sides of the room, you and Soap would throw paper aeroplanes at each other and constantly pass notes; you could never be torn apart.

Soap had your loyalty, and he knew it. You would follow him to the very ends of the earth and into the very fires of Hell, if it meant being near him; you even followed him into war.

You followed him into war like the loyal dog that you were, and although you knew that you had his loyalty all the same, it didn't stop the banter; they called you a dog, Soap's lapdog.

You did anything he said without question, but always questioned everyone else; they didn't hold your loyalty the way that Soap did. You were utterly loyal to each other, and everyone knew it. You did not fight for a country, you did not fight for politics, you did not fight for money, you did not fight for a king - you fought for Soap.

You would only ever fight for Soap.

You would not fight for anything else, as nothing else held as much worth to you. But that didn't stop their promises; they said you would be fighting for glory, that you would be fighting for freedom and justice. You never saw any of that.

Where was the glory in killing civilians?

Where was the glory in bombing houses?

Where was the freedom in forcing prisoners of war to lie naked?

Where was the freedom in stealing babes from their mothers' bosoms?

Where was the justice in slaughtering the elderly?

Where was the justice in using toxic gas?

It was all bullshit... but you couldn't leave Soap. He had your loyalty, and he would keep it no matter the circumstances. Your loyalty only lied with Soap.

The things you did would never leave you.

The screams still curdling in your ears loudly whenever everything went quiet; the sight of blood dripping from your hands still sticky and wet whenever you didn't wear gloves. The smell of human shit and piss constant whenever you weren't smoking; the taste of copper and sand on your tongue whenever you left it more than an hour without smoking.

Price made you do most of it, always laughing as he said to "bring the dog in". Ghost would humiliate them before you got to them, and it took everything in you not to cry. You would always end up sobbing with your back against the wall at the end of every day; but you had to stay with Soap.

You had to protect him, you had to keep him alive - you had to stay with him. Your loyalty lied with him, and such a loyalty was not easily broken. What Price and Ghost did, and what they made you do, was not war, though.

It was not warfare. It was cruelty, in its purest form, and you would never be able to forget it. No matter how much you scrubbed your hands and screamed at their ghosts that you were sorry.

Your loyalty lied with Soap, you would do anything for him.

You did your best as you pinned him underneath you and shot at them; swallowing thickly as you aimed for their feet and hoped that they would jump back. That they would realise that you did not want to kill.

You never realised that there was a gap in the rock by Soap's head, and that it was big enough for a single, lucky shot.

You didn't even realise until you felt it yourself, a sharp sting in your chest as you fell onto your back, gasping for breath harshly; you could feel something wet spreading across your body, and grabbed Soap, yanking him over and wondering why he was limp. But then you saw it.

His wide, open grey eye. His slack jaw. The jagged and open gaping wound in the side of his face; it trailed from his forehead, all the way down to his lip. Still spurting out blood as his brain matter seeped through the crack in his skull, dripping onto your face. The bones in his face shattered and exploded out the back of his head, leaving half of him open and exposed.

You shook your head, swallowing thickly.

"That quick tongue of yours is gonna get us into shit," you had told him hours before. "Why'd you fucking call Ghost a twat faced sausage roll?"

"It was funny!" Soap had snapped with a laugh.

Your stomach sank as you realised. You would never hear his laugh again. You could never feel his lips on yours again, nor could you ever feel his hands holding yours as he danced with you to Sabaton songs.

You would never have a future, but as everything started to grow darker, you realised that maybe it was all a terrible dream.

More shots rang out as you leaned your head back, convinced it wasn't real; even when you felt Soap's body above you shaking and jumping as the bullets entered his back, neck, and what was left of the back of his head to make sure he was dead. His blood mixing with your own on your chest; you had always been loyal to him.

Your reward for such undying loyalty, was to be comforted by dying together.

[catholicdaredevil]

we don't have any grapes || soap & shine

here is your first blurb of the soap and shine series!!! this is just me and soap being menaces!!!

words: 678

gif: @shadow0-1

ao3 link

-

ghost pushes open the front door to the shared apartment he has with soap to see them sitting on the floor of the living room together. soap and ezra mirror each other on the soft beige carpet, legs tucked up under them as they stare each other down.

it isn’t until he’s closed the door and locked it, starts walking into the room with heavy tired footsteps, that ghost notices the small pile of ammo that is laid out between the two. they’re so focused in on each other he isn't even sure if they've noticed he’s home.

it shouldn't surprise him, in fact by this point nothing the two of them do should. but despite the many times he’s learned the lesson not to– the hard way, always the hard way– ghost asks for clarification.

“what in fucking hell are the two of you doing?” he grumbles, kicking his shoes back towards the door behind him as he glares down at them both.

ezra looks up with a sparkle in their eyes that couldn't possibly be a good thing, their mouth turning up at the sides and ghost can feel the headache coming on before they even begin to speak.

“you know that game where you try to fit more grapes in your mouth than the other person?” their voice lilts with the anticipatory question. meanwhile soap is refusing to look away from them, digging down into his weak attempt at intimidation.

“i already regret asking and i know i’ll regret answering this too, but yes.” ghost towers over the smaller two, silently wondering what he did in a past life to deserve the kind of stress the duo puts him through.

there isn't a knife in the house that hasn't been put into a wall, table, or person. most of them even have all three on their scorecard. ghost longs for the days when soap was a little scared of him, the days before ezra came along and took one look up at the man a foot taller than them and decided to make his life hell with the accompaniment of his best friend.

simpler calmer times.

“yeah, well, we don't have any grapes.” ezra explains, nose scrunching under the strain of holding in their laughter. 

ghost can feel his sigh move the entirety of his body and he allows himself one moment of concern before remembering that he has the misfortune of you both being the most unkillable bastards alive.

“tal in the room?” he questions ezra before they turn back to their partner and unnecessarily dangerous yet childish bet.

ezra nods quickly, “he said he didn't want to watch us get lead poisoning.”

ghost groans, reaching a hand up to pinch the top of his nose before turning on his heel and stomping towards his bedroom to join his boyfriend. the boyfriend who clearly is the smarter of them as ghost already knows tal didn't let himself get roped into any questions or associative guilt.

“johnny, my love, you’re going fucking down and when you do, you're gonna do the dishes for a month you stupid bastard.”

he hears ezra's voice one last time before pulling open his door and laying eyes on tal. the stress of his day and the insane couple having a mental showdown in his living room melting away at the domestic sight of his partner curled up under the blankets and leaning back against the headboard with a book in his lap.

it isn't until the next day that ghost even allows himself to think about the previous nights actions and it doesn't take long to find out the results without falling into the trap of asking.

it’s certainly not hard when he steps into the kitchen and soap is standing in front of the sink with a maid apron on and a dejected pout pulling his lips down.

as wild as soap is, there's only one person in the world who can match his feral and untamed energy, if not surpass it entirely. 

so unsurprisingly, ezra had won.

[ch1n1tahwrites]

COD TWT P!LINKS

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

Simon fingering your tiny pretty pink pussy

loserteenage!ghost in your room past your bed time

Simon lavishing his pretty girl

fucking your thighs

letting you dominate him once (maybe he realized he should let you more)

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

fingering you after a long mission

sucking your tits because he missed his mommy

waking you up to this

riding him cuz you missed him

JOHN "CAPTAIN" PRICE

throwing your pretty little body around

while your watching a movie

makeup sex after your fight

letting you sit on his face whilst you read

fucking you because you asked for it

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

eating you out after dinner

after a mission

eating you out pt.2

[neoarchipelago]

On mission

Y/N: *taking out a knife* every room can become a panic room if you give just a fucking minute...

Soap: I'm scared LT... LT?

Ghost: I'm horny.

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[miniwheat77]

Triple Threat. (Keegan, König, & Ghost X Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, unprotected p in v sex, double penetration, Sex Pollen, drugs, death, violence, poorly translated German, (sorry if I missed any.)

It’s been a long day.

You’ve been walking for miles behind the trio of masked men. You aren’t even sure why you were sent on this mission, considering the three men in front of you were the strongest. Physically and Mentally. They’re all skilled, more skilled than you’ll ever be. But you obey orders and even though you’re pointless to be here, you’re still enjoying yourself. König thought you’d be useful, you can’t argue there.

You’re lagging behind a bit, listening to everything going on. You’ve got a clear idea of how this mission is supposed to go. Capture the target, see what he knows, leave no survivors.

After a couple bomb threats from this person with the target of the base you all stayed on, you had no choice but to do this. You were getting too close to his operation and he was getting desperate. Which means whatever he has going on, is not good. You’d been walking a few miles, it’s where you were dropped off. You were closing in on the building he was in. It was all dense jungle around it. Nowhere to run.

As you approached the building, you noticed quite a few men outside. They were loading up a truck with crates of something. None of you had any kind of idea what it could be. “Keegan and Ghost, you two go ahead. You’re the quietest.” You nod. They give you nods of their own before splitting off into their own directions. “I’m going to go around, see if I can’t get a clear shot of some on the other side.” You mumble to König. He tilts his head. “Be safe, schatz.” You smile, “always.”

You make your way around, not having any idea of what awaits you ahead.

König watches through his scope, not sure why he’s out here when he did better with close combat, but nevertheless he kept quiet and stayed hidden. He watched Ghost and Keegan zero in.

“Y/N, how’s it looking?” He says into his radio.

He receives nothing but silence.

“Y/N? Do you copy?”

After another few minutes of silence, he begins to panic.

“Y/N isn’t responding, she circled around to get a better view, verrücktes Mädchen.” He mumbles the rest as he releases the button on his radio. “Shit. We have to get inside.” Ghost calls back.

“Keegan, do you copy?”

Ghost calls.

Goosebumps rise on his skin when he gets nothing in return. He’s breathing hard, resting up against a door. “Keegan?” He asks again. He sighs. “König. Keegan isn’t answering either.”

He takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He’s surprised when König doesn’t call back.

“König?”

Silence.

“God damnit.“ he breathes, taken by surprise when a dart is being shot into his neck. “What the f-“

That’s the last he remembers.

Slowly, one by one, they’re waking up. They’re on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. They’ve killed most of the threats, but there’s still one. “Rise and shine.” He smiles. Their vision is blurry but they can hear you whimpering. When they fully register what’s going on, they start to panic. You’re strapped to a chair, fully naked. You’ve got a cloth tied around your mouth. “What the fuck is going on?” Keegan yells. “Ah, so you can talk.” The man smiles. He’s breathing hard, fighting against his restraints. He runs a knife over your chest and you close your eyes tightly, breathing heavily. “Deep breaths darling. Yeah, that’s it.” He chuckles.

König’s eyes darken. He wants to rip this man’s head off for touching you.

“Your precious girl here is infected now. Well… all of you are.” He chuckles. “This little dart here. Holds 1 Milliliter of the sweetest drug you can get your hands on.” He holds up the little dart. “I prescribe about 1/4 of that for my very special clients. You’re all infected with enough of this to kill a horse.” He laughs. “What the hell is it?” Ghost seethes. “Oh? You don’t know?” He smirks. “It’s a sex drug. A bit like the over the counter ones you can buy, but on steroids. When you take a little bit, you get aroused, you produce pheromones that attract people, makes sex intense. But when you take in more than the recommended amount..” he clicks his tongue.

“Heart rate picks up. Blood pressure rises. Keeps rising and rising until it bottoms out. You’ll either die of a heart attack or your heart will just give out.” He laughs. “So.. your girl here. She was infected first. Which means she’s going to die first, and you’re all going to watch her squirm. She’s going to beg for relief, beg for anything you’ll give her. But you’re stuck.” He laughs. “The only way she’ll feel better is if she gets fucked enough.” He laughs. He sits down in a chair, writing something down. “Ich werde dich töten.” König seethes. Looking up at him through his mask. “What was that big guy? Hm?” He laughs. He stands up once more. “You know what, I’ve got an idea. How about we get rid of the ridiculous costumes, show your real faces!” He claps his hands together. He starts with König, pulling off his hood. He glares up at him. Next was Ghost, he tugs his balaclava off. Ghost sends him a death stare. Next was Keegan, who had a smile on his face. “What are you smiling at?” He crouches down. “Just think your head is going to look perfect on a stick.” He spits in his face. He growls. “Whatever. Pay close attention to your little girlfriend, she’s going to start begging soon enough.” He mumbles. “She’s actually really sexy, might give her a go before her heart explodes.” He grips his dick through his jeans and that’s when König tugs at the ropes, feeling them start to give away. You whimper out, shifting in your chair. “Yeah, there we go.” He chuckles, sitting back down. He goes back to writing something down, and you squirming on the chair doesn’t help the situation at all. You’re rubbing your thighs together, raising your hips. You’re rutting them down into the chair for any sort of relief. As the time goes on, the worse it gets. Pretty soon, all three men are trying to ignore the tightening in their pants, shifting uncomfortably, trying hard to get out of their restraints.

“Awe. Look at you.” The man smiles. “Soaking the chair.” He chuckles. He runs his fingertips up your thigh and you flinch. “Stop.” Ghost growls. “Nah, I think it’s time I take her for a test drive.” He smiles. König rips through the ropes, the man freezes when he hears the click of a gun.

“Turn around.” He growls. “Woah… take it easy big guy. I was only joking.”

“Ich habe einen Witz für dich.” He smiles. “What?” He asks. Just then, König pulls the trigger. He hits the man right between the eyes. He falls backward, blood pouring from his head. König cuts the ropes off of Ghost and motions for him to free Keegan. König rushes to get to you. “You okay?” He asks. “No-“ you shiver. He kneels down, freeing you from the chair. “I know, it’s hard. But you have to fight it.” Ghost mumbles. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” He asks. You shake your head. “No.” You grit your teeth. “Where are your clothes?”

“I don’t know, it’s too hot anyways.” You pant. Your skin is hot to the touch. Keegan stands behind you, brushing your hair away from you to look at you. You’re completely clear aside from a tiny puncture mark from the dart. “The… the only way-“ you grit your teeth, closing your eyes. “The only way is to have sex, I can feel my heart beating out of my chest.” You whine. “I feel it too.” Keegan mutters. Ghost looks down. Agreeing silently. König nods his head. “So what do we do?” Keegan asks.

“We do what we have to.” Ghost mumbles. You nod your head.

The more aroused the three men get, the better they seem to smell. They’re attracting you so much. You bend over, crying out. “You okay?” Keegan kneels by you. “Can’t take it anymore.” You look up at him. Tears streaming from your eyes. “Cmon.” He mumbles, sliding his arm under the bend of your knees and your back. He lifts you up. “We’ve got to find a room or something. If we’re going to do this we have to start now.” Keegan mumbles. They nod. They quickly move through the building, Ghost first, König next, and than Keegan with you. They move in a line, just in case there’s more men they don’t know about. You whine into Keegan’s shoulder. Propping yourself up onto him. “Y/N- what are you doing?” He mumbles. “Need it- need it so bad Keegan.” You mewl. You grip onto him, wiggling out of his grasp so that you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist. You attack his neck with your teeth, grinding your hips into him.

“Shit- Y/N. We’re almost there. You have to stop-“ he grits his teeth, Ghost and König glance back at you, seeing you attacking Keegan. Your desperation has them aching.

“In here.” Ghost holds open the door, locking it behind you and propping a chair up on it just in case. It’s a bedroom, at last. “Ah- you’ve got to let go sweetheart.” Keegan groans. “No, please. I need it. Need it so bad.” You whine. Grinding your hips into him more. “I know, we’re going to help you. Just… for one second baby.” He breathes. You let go of him and he lowers you onto the bed. “Fuck..” he growls. Noticing the way you’ve soaked the front of him. The three men are standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at you. Like you’re the finest meal they’ve ever laid their eyes on. Keegan is first to break, reaching for his belt. Your pupils are blown out as you watch his hands move to unbuckle it. The other two follow his movements. You bite your lip, body shivering at the thought of what’s about to happen. You can’t help yourself, reaching between your legs to stimulate the sensitive nub that awaits any kind of relief it can get. A mewl leaves your lips and you tilt your head back. “She’s going to have to get used to me, I’ll go last.” König nods. They all silently agree. He’s right, he’s the biggest of the three. After admiring the way you touch yourself, they can’t anymore.

Keegan reaches out, grasping your hips and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “Poor girl. Just soaking..” he breathes. He rubs the tip of his cock over your aching hole, a whine leaving your lips as you raise your hips into him. He moves his hips forward, the tip of his cock pushing through your wet folds. You want to cry when he fills you up. The relief you feel is incredible. You can feel more tears welling up in your eyes as he starts to thrust himself inside of you.

The squelch from your wet pussy is the only thing they can hear besides your whines. You squirm around, the way he feels is almost too much. “Ah- you’re gripping me so tight.” He breathes. “Hold on.” Ghost mumbles. He lifts you up off of the bed, apologizing at the loss you feel from Keegan exiting you. You straddle him. “You wet enough from her?” He asks. Keegan nods his head. “Y-yeah. Fuck.” He groans. He’s never done anything like this before, nothing like he’s about to do. Ghost lines his cock up with your pussy, and you sink down onto him with a gasp. Clutching his shoulders. “There you go, now relax for Keegan alright?” You nod your head. You feel Keegan’s tip aligning with your ass. You’d be worried. If it weren’t for the drug, you’d be modest and shy away from what they’re doing. But as he fills your ass to the hilt with ease, the fullness you feel. You can’t even think straight anymore.

The pleasure you feel from them has you on cloud 9. Vision blurring, you can barely make a sound. Your lips are parted, eyes are blown wide as they start to move into you. A chuckle leaves Ghosts lips at your reaction to them.

“She’s feeling good.” He laughs. “Think so.” Keegan chuckles. You rest your head on Ghosts shoulder, turning to look at König. He’s pumping his cock quickly, he’s desperate too. You reach your hand out for him. He moves closer and you take him into your hand, pumping his cock. He gasps out, head tilting back. You can see them, all of them. More than just the color of their eyes. You can see their sharp jawlines, the small scars decorating their faces. You can see the curves of their lips, their stubble that needs to be shaved. You can see and feel all of them, and it’s too much. Your first orgasm is coming fast. Your thighs are shaking, your cheeks are flushed from the warmth moving through you. “I.. I’m so close.” You whimper. Your hand tightens around König and he hisses slightly. “Fuck.” He groans. You clutch Ghost hard with your other hand. “I-“ you freeze up. Body going rigid as you reach your first orgasm. You cry out, soaking Ghost’s thighs with your arousal. “Oh fuck.” He breathes, looking down. “Look at the mess you’ve made of me.” He chuckles. “Ah fuck- I’m gonna cum too!” Keegan pants. He grips your hips hard. Thrusting into you harder. He’s chasing after his high, using you to reach it.

He’s panting hard, moans getting more unsteady by the second. “Oh fuck!” He growls, teeth gritted as he cums. His thrusts are sharp and bruising as he rides out his high, stuttering to a stop against you. You feel full of him, turning to look at him. He grips your throat, kissing you hard as he slides himself from your ass. “Fuck-“ he breathes. He steps away from you for a second.

“I think she’s ready for you, König.” Ghost nods. Keegan takes a deep breath, relaxing back into a chair. “Does it feel like it’s worn off?” Ghost asks him. He nods his head. “Yeah. I think it’s only got her so worked up because she’s smaller than us.” He nods. “Probably, never thought about it like that.” You’re rocking your hips into him, desperate for more. “I’ll go make sure the rest is all clear.” Keegan finishes getting dressed. König replaces the chair on the door behind him before making his way back to you. Ghost slides you off of him and you mewl at the emptiness you feel. He chuckles at this, “Relax, just for a second darling.”

“Go to König.” He breathes. You nod your head, König lifts you up into him, swapping places with Ghost. He sits down, lining his cock up with your entrance. “I’m really big sweetheart, so don’t get too eager.” He breathes. “Schau mich an.” He raises your chin and you look him in the eyes. “Keep looking at me.” He presses his forehead to yours. You slowly sink down onto him, thighs shaking slightly. He’s big. You moan out, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you. Once he’s bottoming out in you, you can barely hold yourself up. Ghost has his cock nestled into your ass, like Keegan had. He was already so close. When they start thrusting, you can’t keep quiet. It’s so much, and König adds to it. Circling your clit gently. Sucking your nipples into his mouth. You being stimulated is what helps the l drug wear off. He’d do what he had to.

Ghost has a tight grip on your hips, his thrusts are getting sloppy. He hisses, feeling you tighten slightly around him. He’s right on the edge. He tilts your head back, tugging slightly on your hair. König has one of your nipples between his lips, sucking gently as he rubs your clit. Ghost kisses you hard, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. It’s by far the best he’s ever had. His body jerks hard as he finishes inside of your ass, pulling away from you completely. You moan at the loss of him, turning to look at him. “I’m going to go help Keegan.” He mumbles. He’s readjusting his cargo pants, buckling his belt. “Be safe.” You whimper. He nods. When he leaves this time, neither you or König are worried about the chair in front of the door. He lifts you up, turning around so that he can lay you on the bed. Smiling when you refuse to let go of him. “Relax, Ich gehe nirgendwohin.” He pushes your hips down into the bed, and looks at you. He’s not sure you’re ready for the force he’s about to use on you, but as desperate as you seem to be, he doesn’t think you’ll mind.

He starts at a fast pace, fucking into you hard. It only takes a few seconds and you’re nearly crying from how rough he is with you. His cock is big and you’ve never taken anything like the three of them ever before. You’ve got a death grip on the blankets beneath you, and you can’t stay quiet. He releases one hand, using it to rub circles into your sensitive nub once more, and that’s when you lose it. You’re sobbing when you finally cum again, raising your hips into him and flinching away from him when he continues his fast pace. “Doing so good for me. So ein gutes Mädchen.” He pants. He leans down to kiss you once more, his high is approaching too. The stimulation he feels is intense, you’re wrapped so tight around him, he just can’t take it anymore.

“Oh yes… yes so close.” He grips your hips hard as he slips over the edge, hips hammering into yours as he cums. You’re sure there will be bruises all over you. “Verdammt, so gut.” He cries. His thrusts halt, and he realizes he’s just filled you up with his cum. He sighs. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He breathes. You look up at him. Eyes feeling heavy as the arousal finally begins to wear off. You send him a lazy smile. “Don’t be.” You breathe. He slides out of you, groaning as he does so. He takes a second, panting. He’s trying to catch his breath.

He helps you get cleaned up, making sure to clean your skin if the mix of arousal between the four of you.

He wraps you up in a clean blanket. Lifting you up and carrying you back into the room this had all begun. He’s looking around for your clothes but can’t seem to find them. “It’s all clear.” Keegan nods. König nods his head. He places you down in a chair for a moment, picking up his hood and returning it to cover his face. Ghost and Keegan doing the same. “I can’t find her clothes.” König sighs. “I’ve got them.” Keegan nods. He passes them to König and he thanks him. He unwraps the blanket you’re in, helping you get dressed. You’re exhausted and weak, eyes getting heavy as he helps you. “I’ve got a sample of the drug and some paperwork. That’s all we needed right?” Ghost asks. König nods his head. “Yes. All in all this was a successful mission.” He nods. “Jedoch, this stays between us.” He laughs. Ghost and Keegan can’t help but laugh, even you have a tired smile on your lips. “Yes sir.” Keegan laughs.

König ties your boots, and returns the blanket around you, lifting you up with ease. That was one good thing about the massive man, he was strong. “Let’s get to exfil. We all need to be checked out.” Ghost says. Everyone nods in agreement. You’ve finally fallen asleep and König can’t help but smile.

This was going to be a day to remember.

[bunnyreaper]

captain mactavish's reputation precedes him, and yet standing before you as he does now, you can't help but wonder if something got lost in translation. 

soap is a riot once you get him going! he used to be even wilder, if you can believe it.  always was up for a laugh as a sergeant!

the man before you looks a little grizzled with age--stubble growing out to a beard, face smeared with black warpaint, and yet beneath thick brows, his blue eyes still sparkle despite his glower. handsome though, still incredibly handsome--which in your mind, is a problematic trait for a captain to have, especially one commanding you. 

he chats away to one of his sergeants, seemingly unaware of your presence on the periphery. assignment to this task force is only temporary, you reassure yourself. facing the captain's offensive good looks and intimidating demeanour will last a couple of weeks at most.

taking a breath, you step forward, just outside of the circle of captain mactavish and his sergeants. all eyes fall to you, but his are the ones you can't tear your gaze from. he seems to scrutinise you for a moment, cerulean eyes flickering up and down your form.

"you on ma team?" his voice isn't what you expected, and his accent is delicious--you know you're capable of remaining professional despite it all.

"yes sir." you chirp back instantly, obediently--hoping to not get on the wrong side of your newfound crush. 

he nods once at each of his soldiers, dismissing them before turning and heading in the direction of the nearby truck. it takes a moment for you to process before your legs catch up to your thoughts and you start following the captain. 

"keep up then lass, let's go." he calls over his shoulder, before stopping at the passenger side door. 

it's strange how he opens it for you, watching with intense eyes as you pull your gun into your lap and sink into the seat. captain mactavish takes the driver's seat, and quickly gets the car going down the dirt track.

your thoughts start to flood back to you now you're settled in the truck and have a few moments to think before you really need to get your head in the game. 

was the captain not expecting your assignment? it was rather rushed, even taking you by surprise. you'd only just had the chance to ask around about the captain before you were on the next flight over. perhaps you should introduce yourself properly. 

"i'm--" 

your words are cut off before you can even get out your name. "i ken who ye are." he says, voice a little deadpan and jaw a little tight--it makes your heart fall in a way it certainly shouldn't. 

the whole situation just left you perplexed. it seemed captain john mactavish definitely contained multitudes, and the gruff man you saw before you was what you would get while you were out on the field. 

"then why did you ask if I was the one on your team?" you ask, determined to not fall silent lest the atmosphere suffocate you. 

the captain throws his hand over the back of your seat, eyes meeting yours only briefly before he checks the view out of the back of the truck and starts reversing at speed. 

"jus' wanted to hear ye say 'yes sir.'" 

he glances back to you as he jerks the car around. a smirk tugs at his lips, and then he throws you a wink as you finally get to see that playful side you were promised. "sounds so pretty coming from yer mouth, doll." 

[gloomwitchwrites]

What Are We (4 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: light angst, brief mention of alcohol, possessive Soap, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl)

Word Count: 942

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

Always deflecting the question, you push John for an answer.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

John is not an angry drunk. Nor is he a sloppy one.

In fact, John is exceptionally gifted in holding his alcohol. But what John is after a few drinks can only be described as mischievous. He loves pushing at the right buttons, teasing until you’re hot with carefully concealed embarrassment, constantly touching, constantly grabbing until you’re playfully smacking at his hands.

John loves riling you up. He does it on purpose. He pushes until the gentleness becomes quiet discontent, until your tone becomes argumentative, only for John to kiss you, and then fuck you until you shut up and forget all about it in the first place.

While it’s a game between the two of you, you’re not particularly feeling it tonight. Right now, you’re slightly irritated, uninterested in all of his advances. It’s not because you’re no longer attracted to him, but because you have a task before you.

Your friends all the say the same thing. To confront John and ask him what this is between the two of you. You and he are always together, always a pair, and yet there has been no solid commitment. Whenever it’s brought up, he’s usually the one to quickly dismiss it, especially in a group setting. In the beginning you thought nothing of it, but now, after months together, you need an answer.

John lounges on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped over the back of the sofa. His eyelids are soft, almost closed. The arm not resting on the back of the sofa is in his lap. John’s large hand rubs up and down his covered thigh.

“Come here,” he murmurs, indicating where you should sit with a soft tap of his palm.

You’d give anything to slide into his lap. To wrap your arms around his neck and forget the world for a bit.

But your heart is beating wildly in your chest, the anxious need to ask him a fiery thing.

“What are we, John?” you whisper, glancing up to his face, seeking an answer.

The playful smile on his face drops slightly. John slowly rubs up his thigh and back down again before lightly squeezing. “Come here,” he repeats. “We can talk while you’re in my lap.”

If you go to him, the two of you will not talk.

“No,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

The playful demeanor melts away, replaced with that of a hunter. John leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. He holds this position for a moment, staring at you intently. With an exaggerated unhurriedness, John stands and then strides forward into your space. There is no chance for you to step away from him or to give yourself room to breathe.

John is right there, grabbing the back of your neck, hauling you into a passionate kiss that rips your resolve from your throat. You open for him, and he enters, claiming and kissing and tasting until your fingers dig into the front of his soft, cotton t-shirt.

When he breaks the kiss, the wetness between your thighs is stark and unforgiving.

“You need to answer my question,” you murmur, some of that strength returning.

“Do you think you’re not mine?” he asks, tone serious.

“No. Just—you never admit what we are. You always brush it off, especially in front of others.”

John frowns, his thumb rubbing across your cheek. “They don’t need to know what this is. This is just between us.”

You shake your head. “I understand but that’s not what I’m asking.”

John’s hold on the back of your neck strengthens. He draws you even closer, just until the tips of your noses are touching. “Then let me show you.”

He closes the distance, and you melt completely, forming to him as you always do. With one arm snaking around your waist, John guides you over to the sofa. You’re so wrapped up in him that his abrupt breaking leaves you momentarily dazed. It’s brief. A flash. And then you’re bent over, knees sinking into the cushion, arms and hands digging into the sofa’s armrest.

“John—”

You don’t even get the question out before he’s shoved up your skirt, pushes your underwear aside, and places his mouth on your pussy. His tongue swirls and tastes, expertly moving up and down and then stopping to tease your clit.

Everything clenches. Everything shakes. And it isn’t until your small death appears suddenly that you realize how good John is with your body. He sucks and sucks on your clit until your voice goes hoarse.

Then, you’re yanked flush against him, his chest pressing into your back, John’s hand wrapped around the front of your throat. You feel his hand between your bodies opening up the front of his jeans and shoving them down enough for his cock to slide between your thighs.

You whimper and push back on him.

“You’re mine, love,” he murmurs into your ear.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance. It hovers there before sinking in. John groans as your fingers find his skin, digging in.

“Your cunt is mine,” he growls, retreating a bit before thrusting forward harshly, completely burying himself inside you.

The hand at your throat twists a bit, forcing you to look at him.

“Your lips are mine,” he says just before kissing you, his lips meeting yours as he rolls his hips.

His other hand reaches between your legs to play with your clit. It’s over. You’re done. You will give him anything.

“Everything about you belongs to me,” he whispers against your mouth. John’s thrusts increase in pace. “And I am all yours.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @enfppuff @heeheehoohoohahahihi

[lazybutsmexy]

Emotional support bird

Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap

Warnings: none. Pure fluff.

Word count: 850~

PT. 2

On AO3

A/N: take this as a little apology for all the angst I've been posting for this OT3 🫶♥️

“Simon, you’re not gonna believe what we saw at the market today!” (Y/n) greeted him with a wide smile as he held the door open for her and Johnny as they carried their full tote-bags into his house. Simon took a brief moment to admire the rosy apples of her cheeks, and her ever-present sparkling eyes, before she rushed into the kitchen to leave her bag on the counter. Johnny followed after her with a grin, offering Simon a wink as he headed straight to the fridge to leave the cold produce in it. 

“...What did you see?” Simon inquired, his curiosity peaked as he shut the door and locked it, before following after his partners to help put the groceries away. They had decided to spend their mandatory two-week post-mission break at Simon’s house, but he had been severely understocked of food, hence the decision was made that Johnny and (Y/n) would make a trip to the closest farmer’s market and gather a few things they would need for the next few days.

“An emotional support dog!” she cooed as she handed him the jars that had to be stored away in the upper cabinets, “a beautiful chocolate lab, her coat was very shiny and she looked super cuddly too!” Simon took the small jars in twos, carefully setting them in their correct places as he listened to her, the hint of a smile teasing his lips as he listened to her. “She was with a family, but I think her owner was the smaller kid, he was holding the leash.” She glanced at Johnny, who still hadn’t been able to wipe the grin off his face. He had already listened to her ramble about the dog, and found it impossible to resist her contagious enthusiasm. 

“Those dogs work for different kinds of people,” Simon commented, “wonder why the kid would need one.” 

“I don’t know, didn’t ask,” (Y/n) shrugged, handing him the last jar - a gallon jar of pickled peppers, her latest obsession, “I didn’t want to approach them and make them think that I was questioning them for having one.” 

“...Do we really need a jar this big?” Simon arched an eyebrow as he picked the jar, nevertheless putting it in place with the others and silently thanking his past self for purchasing such sturdy kitchen cabinets.

“Yes, we do,” (Y/n) nodded in all seriousness, before her beaming smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared, “Oh! She even had her cute little vest on!” she cooed, a pout tugging at the center of her lips as she ended with a whine, “She was so~ cute!”

“Aw, Tweety-bird, don’t be jealous,” Johnny reached over and planted a wet smooch on her cheek, instantly tinting her entire face in a flush, “I think you look even cuter when you wear your vest~.”

“‘m not a dog, though,” she whined, and John and Simon shared a knowing look.

“So, you agree you look cute in your vest,” Simon smirked, his finger poking her nose and causing her to erupt in a giggle, gently swatting his hand away from her face.

“Oh, shut it, you know what I mean!”

Yeah, they knew. 

~~~~~~

Two weeks later, as the team prepared to go on yet another mission to the other side of the world, Canary ran her checklist again, making sure everything was packed and ready to go. She was interrupted by two sharp knocks on the door, and she was pleasantly surprised when Ghost appeared at her doorway when she answered her door. 

“Oh, hi! What’s-”

“I have a job for you,” he cut her off, and her brow tightened slightly at his serious tone, “follow me.” He left no room for questions as he swiftly turned around and began marching down the hallway in the direction he had come from. Canary was hot on his heels, wondering what this important job could be, being so close to the start of their new mission. 

They headed straight to the infirmary, and her confusion only grew when she found Soap sitting on a chair, his left sleeve pulled up all the way above his shoulder, and the nurse waiting patiently next to him with a ready syringe. 

“Ah, there she is!” Soap declared brightly, lifting his right arm and holding his hand out to her, “come here, I need you.” 

Canary blinked but didn’t hesitate to hold his hand, still confused about the ordeal, “Um, what do you need me for?”

Soap couldn’t stop his grin from widening even more as he squeezed her hand, “Emotional support, duh,” he glanced at the nurse and tilted his head back to Canary, “this is my emotional support bird.” 

Canary’s face burned as the nurse shook her head in amusement, getting on with giving Soap his booster shot. His eyes were trained on her in a soft gaze, and she debated whether she wanted to kiss him or smack him in the back of his head, leaning towards the latter as she noticed Ghost clearing his throat to disguise a chuckle behind her. 

She still held his hand, though.

[charliemwrites]

Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️? Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️.

Johnny didn’t mean to. He swears he didn’t mean to, please understand.

You’re his favorite server at his favorite bar. He finds every excuse he can to drag one or all of his team there. Yes he likes their company, of course. Likes spending time with them, laughing and joking and building bonds outside of life or death situations. But you are the highlight of those nights.

You smile so sweetly, a little cheeky twist whenever he gets all of the 141 there together. You know all their names - or their callsigns at least. Call Price “captain” with a giggle whenever he groans at you to stop calling him that.

Johnny adores you. Sometimes when he’s alone at the table - the others off smoking or playing pool - you’ll stop by. You don’t have to, but you do, chatting until one of the other servers teases to stop flirting and help bus.

You always blush when they shout that, but never deny it. Leave him with one last warm smile and a promise to top up his drink for listening to you ramble. As if he couldn’t live with your voice in his ears all the time.

You tell him about your masters program. Complain about shitty customers. Admit you broke up with your last boyfriend for calling your hobbies a “silly waste of time.” The movies you’ve seen or watch for nostalgia. He knows when your playlist is on at the bar because you spend your entire shift bouncing and mouthing along whenever you’re not handling a customer.

It’s a slow infection. A creeping, insidious thing that seeps into his blood and corrupts him from the inside out. This awful, twisting devotion for you.

He knows to be careful, loathe to be one of those men you avoid like the plague, trading with other servers to handle. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He’s happy with the flirting and the little kindnesses, happy that you always light up when you see him. That you breathe a quiet “thank you” and squeeze his arm the one time he steps in one a handshake customer on your behalf.

It’s enough. He reminds himself that it’s enough. He doesn’t deserve more than you’re willing to give. He can’t give you the life you deserve yet.

But then one day things go wrong. So, so wrong.

There’s been a rowdy group of men that have been harassing the younger servers all night. You stepped in, older and more experienced, practiced at not giving them the reactions they want. It’s another of the things Johnny loves about you. You don’t need a mask like Ghost to hide your face.

One them especially tries antagonize you, even manages to earn a sharp word when he says something crass. Johnny tenses when the guy (buddies following suit) starts getting loud, aggressive. Towering over you when he knocks over his barstool, trying to intimidate.

Johnny shoves the guy away from you before it can get much farther. Relief washes over you as the owner, a big burly man, finally makes an appearance and kicks the lot of them out.

“A whiskey on the house for Soap,” you ask the bartender, hand pressed to your chest. “My knight in a cotton sweater.”

He smiles for your sake, mind buzzing to see you so shaken up.

“Alright, lass?”

“Yeah, just spooked me is all,” you sigh, a hand to your cheek now. “Think I’m gonna step out for some air. Thank you again, John.”

He lets you go, even though every molecule in his body urges him to bundle you up under his arm, safe and sound. Take you somewhere quiet to smooth your feathers.

Something doesn’t feel right.

He manages to wait exactly one minute and seventeen seconds before he tells a blasted Gaz that he’s going to the bathroom. When he steps out the back door, you’re being cornered by the man, two of his friends hanging back telling him to “leave it alone” but not actually doing a fucking thing to stop him.

So Johnny does. Honestly, he blacks out for a second. The next thing he knows, he’s cradling you in his arms, his knuckles stinging and bloody. The men are nowhere to be found but there’s a pool of blood in the alleyway. You’re unconscious, fainted sometime in the scuffle - or maybe hit your head.

Johnny isn’t himself. He’s not thinking. He’s used to keeping his cool with guns pressed to his head, but this is different. This is you.

He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t but it’s the best he can come up with when he just got a firsthand look at how dangerous the world is for you when he’s not around.

Please understand. He has to keep you safe.

[mlmxreader]

Beat Again | John Soap MacTavish x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Soap

23 “My days it feels so good to be home”

43 “It’s about time you met my family - we’ve been together long enough” ❞

: ̗̀➛ Soap comes home to find out what, or rather, who his partner has been doing while he's been away.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking, cheating, non-graphic mentions of sex

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Soap groaned softly as he threw his bag down. More than glad to smell the scent of nicotine and coffee, the mixture he had missed most of all as he closed his eyes for a moment and smiled. He was home at last. Home again. He had even better news, too, but he wanted to surprise you with it even though he knew that you wouldn't take too kindly to his appearance.

Scruffy and unkempt, he had a cast on his arm and bandages wrapped from his waist to his shoulder on his left side; he didn't have the heart to tell you that he had been shot during his last mission. He thought he could probably get away with lying and telling you that maybe, just maybe, he was involved in some sort of non-serious accident.

But then he heard it, laughter from the kitchen, and his heart dropped.

"Stop it!" You laughed in that flirtatious, bubbly way that you usually did when you were with him. "No! I'm ticklish there!"

Soap furrowed his brows, heart pounding in his chest as he dared to move around to the kitchen; he paused, dead in his tracks as he looked at the scene before him. Hesh, holding you by the sides as he nuzzled and kissed your neck.

Soap had never met him properly, but he had seen him in passing here and there when Price's friend Elias allowed his team to train with the 141.

Soap's jaw fell slack as he watched you plant your lips on Hesh's, tilting his head to the side as he let our a shuddering breath.

"Honey," Soap whined. "I'm home."

You turned to look at him, immediately pulling away from the other man as you cleared your throat and smiled, tugging on your half zipped hoodie. "Johnny! I didn't know you'd be home! Sorry, Hesh was just-"

"Fixing some plumbing," Hesh hummed, fixing himself a cup of coffee like he owned the fucking place.

"Well, my days it feels so good to be home," Soap growled out, taking a few steps towards you and harshly whispering in your ear. "Garden. Now."

Fuck. You had been caught. You knew better than to deny it, following him outside and reassuring Hesh that you wouldn't be long; immediately, Soap lit a cigarette, and cleared his throat as he glared at you with those icy grey eyes.

"The fuck?" He spat. "I leave for six months and you're fucking someone else?!"

You shrugged as you cleared your throat, sitting on the patio steps and letting out an even breath.

You wouldn't lie to him, you knew that it was best to admit what you had done. "It's been going on for a year, Johnny. I kept trying to tell you that I wasn't happy with how distant you were being, I kept telling you that I wasn't happy and that I wanted us to actually communicate."

"That ain't my fault!" Soap howled. "I have a fuckin' job to do!"

"It's not your job," you told him, shaking your head. "It's you, Johnny. Every time I try to talk to you, you either blow up and blame me, or you completely blow me off. I kept telling you this shit."

"So why didn't you leave?" He asked between gritted teeth.

"Because I didn't have anywhere safe to go," you explained, "and I knew that if I went with Hesh, you'd track him down anyway."

"You're lucky I haven't shot the fuckin' cunt!" Soap hissed. "If you were unhappy, why didn't you fuckin' say?!"

"I did!" You protested loudly. "I kept telling you! I begged for you not to be so fucking distant all the time! You pushed me away!"

"I did not!" He insisted, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "I was... fuck! I was gonna come home an' tell you that it's about time you met my family - we've been together long enough, but nah! You had to go and get fucked by someone else!"

"I don't want to meet your family," you admitted. "I don't want to be with you, Johnathan... I haven't for a long time and I kept trying to tell you this."

Soap clenched his jaw, shaking his head.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sure, he had always brushed off your concerns when you told him that you were worried that he was pushing you away and of course he had brushed you off when you tried to get him to communicate with you - but surely that didn't mean that he had pushed you into the arms of another man.

Surely, the three years that he had spent with you didn't mean nothing.

"Please," Soap whispered, making a move to hold your hand and wincing when you pushed him away. "Don't leave me, please..."

"I'm leaving tonight," you told him with a shake of your head. "If you try and track me and Hesh down, I'm gonna tell Elias."

Soap frowned, knitting his brows together as he sniffled, shaking his head. "We can work this out."

"I gave you every chance," you said quietly, shaking your head. "And..." you let out a quiet sigh. "I know about you and Charly."

"That was one time and-"

"Not according to Laswell," you told him, shaking your head. "I thought I'd brush it off, but... I've come to realise that you found someone better, right?"

Soap shook his head. "It was a mistake."

"So why make it eighteen times?" You asked, and when he didn't answer, you nodded slowly. "Exactly... just don't worry about it, John."

"I can explain," he pleaded softly.

You shook your head, taking a step back as you tried to put some distance between you both. "I'm sure you can, but I'm really not in the mood... Hesh cares about me, John. He cares. He wouldn't go gallivanting off with some fucking... random Sergeant!"

Soap scoffed as he hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It wasn't like that..."

"So what was it?" You asked. "Two years. You've fucked her eighteen times in two years... so, what was it? Was I not good enough?"

"Please-"

"No, Johnathan," you shook your head, grabbing the door handle and sniffling. "I stayed with you because I loved you. I don't anymore. I haven't for a while, now."

"It was a mistake," Soap insisted. "Please. We can fix-"

"No, we can't," you huffed. "Laswell told me you'd been shot. She also said Charly was at your bedside every day... you wanna fix this? Go back in time, unfuck her, and maybe pull your head out of your ass and start communicating with your partner - try that."

Soap knew he had lost, dejected as he sat on the patio step with his head in his hands, sniffling and crying. He knew he had done it to himself. He knew he had pushed you away and shut himself off from you, he knew he had done the worst thing in the world by cheating on you.

He tried to justify it to himself by saying that you had done the same, but... but he knew that if he hadn't been such a cunt, you wouldn't have run to Hesh.

He watched through the glass door as you and Hesh packed your things and left; he watched you leave your keys on the kitchen counter, and he sobbed quietly.

His heart would never beat the same again. Not without you.

[xxshadowbabexx]

What the cod men make f!reader ride (NSFW)

Price is totally, 100% making you ride his boot. He just is. Loves how pathetic you look, whimpering and begging him to just touch you already. Loves to remind you how much of a whore you are. And, once you cum all over his boot he makes you lick it clean.

Ghost goes crazy at the thought of you riding his large, muscular thigh. Needs to drag your hips back and forth as you get off. Head buried in his neck because it just feels so good as you whimper in his ear.

Gaz wants to see you ride his captain. Please do it for him? Seeing you ride Price will result in him cumming untouched. It might just be the best thing he has ever seen.

Soap totally makes you ride his bicep. Like will toss you over his shoulder and make you cum on his arm before he tosses you onto the bed and ravages you.

Roach needs you to ride his cock. Needs to see you dominate him while chasing your release. Praising him for letting you use him like this.

König will do anything to catch you riding his pillow. Literally NEEDS to catch you in the act. He’ll pay you, not even joking. Just please let him record it.

Graves this cocky fucking bastard will have you ride his abs, he gets off on seeing your slick slathered over his lower abdomen. The moment you cum, squirting all over him, you’ll feel a thick substance landing up and down your back. Fucking bastard.

Alex wants you to ride his face. Needs his mustache to be wet and sticky as your slick drips down his jaw and soaks the sheets beneath him. His hands grip your ass and hips as he moans into you, utterly in love.

Alejandro wants you to ride his tongue. He’ll stick his long tongue out as far as it goes and let you do what you please. He just wants to worship his cariño.

Nikto loves seeing you ride his fingers. Obsessed with the image of you desperately trying to get off on his long, thick fingers while begging him to just stuff you with his cock already.

taglist

@theloneshadow24 @frogtowne @ladyxtiger @whitetiger846

[patrollingboston]

The way Price shoves this person to safety 😭😭