#john mactavish imagine

[manticore-fangs]

MY 141 dick analysis.

price’s dick will stretch any hole wide open, 2.2 inches in width and 7.1 inches length. uncut and really fucking heavy. everytime he takes his boxers off, it bounces just enough but doesn’t really move much. his foreskin doesn’t cover all of his tip, just enough for the tip of his tip to poke out from the foreskin, just half of the tip sticking out enough for you to stretch the skin back when you jack him off. his veins are very prominent and very thick and fat. you can feel them when he fucks up into your poor pussy. happy trail is gorgeous and thick with hair and he does trim his pubes but never shaves it all off.

when price pulls out, your pussy gapes just for a second before adjusting to its normal size. price finds that attractive. tip is a pale yet bright red when erect. but after when he comes he’s an angry red. half bright red, half dark red. has fat and heavy balls, they don’t hang very low nor do they hang high, around mid length. you can barely cup both of his balls in your hands, their fat. his dick is curved a lil upwards and is slightly curved more to the right.

price is probably the heaviest and girthiest of them all.

gaz’s dick is long in length. 7.9 inches, barely fits into your cunt with a 1-2 inches just sticking out (unless your a champ and can take all of that) width wise? 1.4 inches but makes up for it with length. is cut and he knows how to use his dick very well with thin girth. isn’t very heavy and everytime he takes his boxers off it hits his curly happy trail, leaving a kiss mark there. his balls are large, and hang slightly lower then prices. you kinda need two hands to cup his balls, only filling up a small about of both of your hands. keeps his happy trail thin and pubes around the same as prices but trims it more nicely.

his tip is an angry red when erect, but when he comes his tip turns a very dark red. has one very angry vein on the side of his dick, very, very prominent and you can feel it pulse just a lil’ bit when he’s inside you. his dick is curved to the left.

gaz has the lengthiest dick of them all.

simon’s dick is pretty average in my opinion. 6.4 inches in length and 1.6 in width, is cut and has a few veins but he’s curved upwards so his tip can hit that good spot in you. he has more veins then price and gaz. you can feel the small ridges of them too, leaving you too whimper and whine for more. he has decent balls, they hang pretty high and are a decent size. you can cup them both in one of your hands.

his happy trail is short but he never really trims, it’s a lil scratchy and he does trim it with scissor if it gets a little long but it never bothers him as he kinda doesn’t bother to take care of down there. his tip is a very pale pink, you think it’s kinda white but you see a few tints of pink. but when he comes his tip turns into a pale yet brighter red. is sorta heavy so when you take off his boxers he bounces enough but doesn’t hit his happy trail and nor does he bounce just a lil bit like price. a decent jump when his dick is free from his boxers.

simon is average.

johnny? lord, he’s 6.9 in inches and 1.9 in width. he’s uncut and his foreskin barely covers his tip. his tip is very thick and his foreskin barely covers it, almost looking like he is cut. but he isn’t. his happy trail is thick and has plenty of hair. he never shaves and never trim’s his pubes and happy trail, uses scissor to trim it if you say it’s scratchy but other then that it doesn’t bother him much. has two thick fat veins on each side of his dick and they pulse when inside you. his balls hang low and are pretty fat and hairy. you can cup them with one hand but barely.

his tip is an bright red when erect but when he comes it turns into an angry dark pale red. he’s curved a bit down and curves to the right more then price. when he removes his boxers his cock doesn’t move really. it’s kinda heavy but it does bounce more then prices.. but doesn’t bounce as high.

johnny is more than average.

[lovifie]

Masterlist - Taglist Form

Soap needs to work on his push-ups, because Gaz keeps getting better numbers than him.

But Soap hates push-ups and he needs some kind of motivation to keep him going.

So that why he puts a fleshlight on the ground, getting his thick hard cock inside whenever he goes down on the push-up.

And his plan would have work if he hasn't given up after 5 push-up and instead just kept fucking the fleshlight, face pressed against the ground drooling on it and hips hammering onto the plastic hole wet with his own milky precum.

Taglist

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[ragingbookdragon]

He felt her moving even before she started moving, heavy arms wrapping around her waist to pin her against him. She gave a sleepy laugh, trying to untangle herself from him. “Babe, I gotta go pee.”

“Pee later,” he muttered against her neck, already throwing a leg over hers. “Wanna cuddle.”

“Baaaaaaaaabe,” she giggled, trying to no avail to free herself. “I gotta goooooooo.”

“Noooooooo,” he mocked back, burying his head in the pillow. “Stay with me and cuddle”

She dissolved into laughter and resigned herself to her fate. “At least let me roll over so I can see your handsome face.”

There was a moment of stillness. “…Promise you won’t run when I open my arms?”

“I promise!” she chirped. “Scouts honor.”

“Alright,” he agreed, unwinding his arms and legs. “I trust you. You better not break—”

The second, his grip slackened, she bolted, hurtling off the side of the bed and into the bathroom, cackling as he started to groan and whine about, “Being betrayed by his most lovely.”

She returned shortly to see him face down in the bed, still groaning and she crawled onto the mattress, laying on his back as she dug her hands under his chest. “I’m sorry, babe,” she murmured, turning her head to lay on the expanse of his shoulder blades. “I had to go tinkle.”

“You left me.”

“I know,” she pouted, kissing his back. “You had to spend two minutes in bed without me. I’m so sorry.”

“Now you’re mocking me.”

“I do it because I love you.” She squeezed his sides. “C’mon handsome, lemme see you.” He turned his head and gave her a pout. “I love you,” she grinned, and he looked away, a smile turning up the corner of his lips.

“Love you more.”

She rested her head back on his shoulders. “I love you most.”

[waves-against-a-cliff]

FWB Captain MacTavish

Content Warnings - Fingering, massive cock, oral, squirting. Captain MacTavish makes my ovaries combust.

At first MacTavish or John or Captain or Sir or- At first he treated you like any other member of his task force. A strong guiding hand, always calling you out on your problem areas as much as he patted your shoulder for doing a good job. Then the touches lingered after a particular mission left the two of you stranded in the Russian woods during winter with broken comms.

It was easy to grow close to the older man. Worryingly so but you didn't put much thought into it, he was easy to get along with so long as you obeyed his commands and didn't try and get yourself killed every time you went into the field.

Then the lingering touches combined with long stares. You'd catch him staring at you from across the tarmac or in the truck or at the mess hall. He couldn't keep his eyes off you and you'd be lying if you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He was built like a fucking tank, large hands and expansive shoulders. A scar that barely missed his eye and Scottish brogue that made your panties wetter then you'd like to admit.

One mission where the two of you had to sit around and wait, with nothing better to do you talked. Talked about home, what you missed most about being at base, if there was anyone waiting for him or for you. You joked about blowing off steam once back on base since he had sheepishly (a word you would have never used to describe him ever) admitted he was going through a dry spell. That knowledge was news to you but you also admitted to also having no action within the sheets for a while too.

"Need a release lass?" He teased you.

"Not nearly as much as you." You had retorted. The deal had been struck. Friends with benefits. A way to blow off steam without busted knuckles.

You had barely gotten into his quarters when he pushed you back onto his bed, his blue eyes nearly feral as he pulled your clothes off. He latched onto one nipple, sucking and licking at it while the other was pinched and lightly twisted between his thumb and index finger. You mewls filled the room and he slotted one thick thigh between yours, the command simple and obvious. You grinded against his still clothed thigh, panting like a bitch in heat as you juices smeared across the fabric.

When your nipples had become sore from the constant attention he switched his focus to your pretty cunt. Your clit was engorged and red, desperate for attention as your pussy dripped your slick onto the sheets. He dived between your thighs, pushing one up as he kneaded the soft skin. His stubble rubbed against your inner thigh in a way that sent sparks into your lower spine.

He ate you like a man starved, growling if you tried to wiggle away as he sucked and licked at your clit the same way he had your nipple. A single digit swirled around your pulsing hole, desperate for attention. "Sir please." You whined. A rumble came from his chest, apparently pleased with your word choice as he stuffed his finger inside you. You keened, fisting the sheets.

"I'm gonna take ye apart lass." He said, finally speaking. "Need ye to come on my fingers." He pushed a second finger in, crooking them up and feeling around for the spot that made your toes curl. You nearly screamed when he found it and then abused it. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, your legs thrashed as your back arched in a way that was nearly painful.

He wasted no time to slurp up the juices that leaked around his fingers as he kept pumping them in and out. He forced you to ride that high for as long as possible even as you squealed and kicked. He didn't bother to undress himself, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down just enough so his thick cock came out. Your mouth watered at the sight of it. Uncut, thicker around the middle with a length that might've made you run for the hills if you weren't do damn horny.

He chuckled at whatever look must've been on your face before grabbing your other thigh and pushing it back to meet your other one. He rubbed the head of his cock, red, neglected and drooling precum, against your slit. Gathering the sticky juices around the top of his mushroom head and tapping it on your clit a few times to watch you twitch.

As he pushed in, you swore. The stretch was sinful, almost too much as your walls fought to accommodate him. He kept you pinned under him as he leaned forward, pushing his cock further into you fluttering cunt. "Fuck." He growled, "Grippin me like a damn vice."

"You're so big." You whined as you threw you head back against the pillow. It felt like it was never going to end, his dick just kept getting further and further in. To places not even your dildos could reach. It was only when he touched your cervix was he forced to stop.

"Can't even take all of me yet." He taunted as he looked down and it was true. There was still an inch or two left till he fully bottomed out but his cock was heavy inside you, twitching each time your walls convulsed around it. He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in small, mean circles. He groaned, nearly collapsing on top of you as your pussy clenched on him. "I havenae even moved."

"God." You sobbed, "Just move. Please move."

"No god here lass." He muttered into your ear as he slowly pulled back before he rammed back into you. "Just me."

"John!" You cried out as his cock kissed your cervix, just this side of bordering on pain until it melted into pleasure.

"Aye, thats my name." He grunted as he set a brutal pace, the sounds coming from your pussy were sinful, enough to make even the devil himself blush as he ruined you for any man. For any of your toys too. His thumb didn't stop either and you could hardly breathe when your next orgasm hit. Your eyes squeezed shut as you screamed his name, certain that the entire base could hear you. "Ah fuck, would ye look at that?" He muttered to himself as he admired the glistening juices all over his abdomen. "Good lass."

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiii, how about our fav 141 men with to a very clumsy reader? Like e.g. I'm someone who keeps accidentally bumping into people while walking because apparently I can't walk a straight line???

Is that something you'd write?:3

Is this something I'd write? Absolutely. This prompt is so cute and the perfect opportunity to write a few drabbles. Thank you for sending it in, and thank you for your patience as I work through all the requests.

Find the Imagines & What If Masterlist HERE

Content & Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, canon-typical cursing

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

John Price:

“I’m doing it.”

“No. You’re not.”

You raise the hammer.

“Put it down,” says Price pointing at the ground.

“I’m fully capable.”

“Yes,” admits Price, slowly. “But you always hurt yourself.”

Your husband isn’t wrong. Everything you’ve ever hung on the walls has resulted in a throbbing thumb.

“It’ll be different this time.”

Price shrugs. “Go on then.”

With tongue between teeth, you come down on the nail, striking thumb instead of metal. You turn to him, tears in your eyes.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Come here.”

“Don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

“Wouldn’t dare,” laughs Price, cradling your hand.

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

“We need to—”

“The milk—”

“It’s—”

Simon tugs you to the right and you growl in frustration. “Stop pulling on me.”

Simon glances down and you know he’s smirking behind the black balaclava. “You don’t know how to walk in a straight fucking line.”

“What?”

He nods toward an elderly couple. “Nearly ran them down, love.”

You roll your eyes. You’re yanked backward against Simon’s chest. He places both hands on either side of you against the cart.

“Gotta protect the elderly.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter.

Simon presses his lips to the top of your head, grinning.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

“Let me see, love.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Kyle grabs your wrist and inspects the nasty slice. You were in the kitchen preparing dinner and the knife slipped.

“At least the knife wasn’t dull,” murmurs Kyle as he rinses the wound under cold water. He gently washes it with soap, drying it afterward.

“You need to be more careful,” he says softly.

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time. I’m not interested in taking you to the hospital.”

Kyle rotates your wrist, covering the wound with a bandage, and places a soft kiss against the wrappings.

“All done.”

John "Soap" MacTavish:

“Can we—”

“Nope,” says John, shaking his head. “Focus.” He places his hands on your shoulders, urging you forward.

“You don’t need to do that.”

John twists you to the side as you almost collide with an antique tea set.

“Oh, aye. I do,” he mutters, gaze darting everywhere, looking for the next victim.

You’re the hazard. Last time the two of you went antique shopping, John had to hand over most of his cash because you kept knocking things over.

“They pack these places on purpose.”

He kisses the top of your head. “No. It’s just you, love.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

[toshidou]

taskforce 141 - favourite positions . . .

Characters // Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" Mactavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Captain John Price

Tags // 18+ ONLY, afab reader, creampie, biting, squirting, smoking, dominant Price.

AN // don't ask me why the price one was so long, because the only answer you're going to get is "excruciating brainrot"

(if you don't know any of the positions, don't be afraid to get on with some googling. i promise it'll be totally worth the bug-eyed stare you'll be getting from your assigned FBI agent.)

Simon “Ghost” Riley - Doggy style

He knows it’s cliché as fuck, but there’s something about being able to hold your hips as he loses himself in you that just drives him fucking wild. 

Especially when he fucks you so good, your arms give out, your back arched so perfectly before him. You look like the definition of ‘face down, ass up', so much so that the sight alone has his eyes rolling straight to the back of his head. 

He’ll make you hold that position for as long as possible, veins popping in his arms as he holds your hips up for you, cock drilling near torturously against your fluttering walls, clenching each time his balls slap against your throbbing clit.

It's addictive, being able to watch how well you take his cock, blackened eyes locked on the way your pussy takes every thick inch of him, strong fingers prying apart the reddened globes of your ass to get a better look at how prettily your cunt spasms around his shaft, at how your velvet walls desperately attempt to suck him in to the hilt.

And it always takes every ounce of strength within him not to cum on the spot when he glances up and sees your face tilted to the side from where it's pressed against a drool soaked pillow; lidded, molten eyes pinned on him from under your lashes, perfectly pink lips stretched open, leaking endless breathy whines and soft moans of his name that have him turning near fucking feral.

When he's getting close, he'll plaster his chest to your back, hands coming down harshly, planted either side of your head, low grunts and harsh breaths panted against the shell of your ear, "that's it, sweetheart, takin' my cock like you were fuckin' made for it, made just for me."

Anytime he has your skin within reach of his mouth, he never hesitates to bite down, adorning every inch of your skin with teeth indentations that bruise, semi-permanent reminders that you're his (the knowledge that you wear his marks when he's away are sometimes the only thing that get's him through).

He'll lean back up before he climaxes, not afraid to admit he has an addiction to watching the way his cum dribbles in thick rivulets down your thighs, unable to stop himself from dragging his spent cock up your sweat and cum slicked skin, gathering his seed on the reddened tip, only to lazily push it back right back into you.

(Sometimes that alone has the blood rushing right back to his dick, fucking you straight into round two, no breaks required. That's the effect you have on him.)

John “Soap” Mactavish - G-Whiz

No matter how it starts, you will always end up in this position, your legs thrown over Johnny's shoulders, his hands gripping your outer thighs so hard you know he's left bruises, again.

Not that either of you are complaining, not when you know just how wild having you like this drives him, frenzied eyes darting constantly up the length of your body, from your fucked out face, down to the way your tits bounce with every aggressive cant of his hips against your ass, finally landing on the piece de résistance, your perfect little hole, stretched so beautifully around him.

There are many reasons this is favourite way to fuck you senseless, almost too many to name. Whether it be the way he can drag his fingers up your quivering legs, holding your knees from where they hook over thick, built shoulders, using them as a leverage to fuck into your pussy harder, harder, harder, just like you're senselessly begging him for between hiccupped breaths.

Or maybe because he knows that when he's away, the only thing you'll be thinking about as you frantically grind your core against his pillow will be this. The perfect way he rolls his hips, hitting the angle that has you screaming his name every single fucking time without fail. Thick, rough fingers rubbing harsh circles against your abused clit as you squirt around his cock, shaking hands forming an ironclad grip on his wrist that lets him know that you're teetering on the edge of insanity, body unable to work out whether it wants him to stop, or if it needs more.

He knows it's always the latter.

"C'mon hen, I know you can gimme more, show me how pretty you look when I fuckin' ruin ya."

When he's finally done with you, his cockhead buried against your cervix, pumping you full of every drop of cum he has to offer, he'll litter the side of your thighs with feather-light kisses and gentle praises, all uttered against your skin with a giddy smile that won't leave his lips for hours afterwards.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick - Pretzel Dip

Without a doubt, there's nothing that Gaz could say he loves more than eye contact. The intimacy he feels from keeping his gaze locked to yours as you fall apart on his cock has kept him awake on more nights that he cares to admit whenever you're apart.

Plagued by the image of you half leant on your side, head lolling as your energy dips, all consumed by the pleasure that rolls through your nervous system in continuous, agonising waves. Haunted by the memories of one of his thighs sandwiched betwixt both of yours, clenching around him in unison with the walls of your pussy as he drags his cock against it in torturously slow, deep thrusts.

He saves fucking you like this for when he's finally reunited with you, uses it as one of his many motivations to return home safe, because when you're finally cradled in his arms once more, it's only a matter of minutes before he has you just the way he wants you: on your side and shaking. It works for you as well, unable to prevent the wetness that gathers between your thighs when you learn that Kyle is mere hours from returning, knowing what will inevitably come the second he walks through the door.

He doesn't let his eyes leave yours for a second, barely remembers to fucking blink, because he knows how flustered you get when he looks at you like this, like a man starved and the only thing that could ever satiate him is you.

He'll keep the pace languid, if only to watch the way soft gasps turn to keening pleas, adorable little begs falling from your mouth when the contentedness of his return transforms into unbridled desperation, not a single thought residing in your mind other than the all consuming need to cum.

He'll only begins to really fuck you when he feels the coil in his gut start to wind, unable to hold back the animalistic urge to pound you into the mattress, his gaze turning from soft, to predatory in mere seconds. It's the only hint you get before he's splitting you in half, watching you with wild eyes as you grip onto the bedsheets in a last ditch attempt to find purchase, to keep you somewhat anchored as his cock slams into you at near inhuman speed.

Neither of you last much longer after that, frenzied hips stuttering to a standstill as the coil finally snaps, lidded eyes still remain fixed to yours, only closing when he leans down and captures your lips with his, cradling your tired neck with such care, it has you preening into his touch.

"God, I've missed you, gorgeous."

"Missed me, or my pussy?"

"Am I not allowed to say both? I feel like I'm not allowed to say both."

"... I mean I missed your dick. Can't say as much about the rest of you -oof- no! No hickies, I have work tomorrow you fucking heathen—"

John Price - Cowgirl

There aren't many things John can say he loves more than watching you ride his cock. Of course, he loves his cigars, and will never pass up a glass of whiskey after a long night. But this? Nothing comes fucking close.

No, none of those things are a patch on the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, hands much daintier than his could ever be planted squarely against his chest, wisps of curled hair peaking from between spread fingers as you use his torso as leverage to bounce harder, faster on his twitching length.

He lets you do all the work, lidded, relaxed eyes languidly taking in the way your face twists in frustration, eyebrows pinched together, annoyed little humphs exhaled past downturned lips as your energy rapidly depletes, thigh muscles burning from overexertion battling against the need to please, to wipe the smug, cocky smirk from the Captain's lips and leave him breathless instead.

Sometimes, if he's really looking to rile you up, he'll reach his hands down towards your waist, savouring the way your eyes light up, only to see that optimism snuffed out the second he reaches for his trouser pocket, hanging just below his hips, and pulls out a fresh cigar and his favourite lighter, the one you bought him. A purchase you sincerely regret every time it's used to taunt you.

He'll hang the rolled tobacco between self-satisfied lips, maintaining steady eye contact as he flicks open the cap of the stainless steel lighter, and sparks up. No matter how hard you try to keep your reactions at bay, they always slip through, fingernails biting into his skin, inking red crescents into his chest, rising to the challenge he sets, even if you know you're giving him exactly what he wants.

The taunting will only get worse, every drop in your pace has him smirking, fingers that remain attached to the cigar pull it from his lips, letting smoke billow from his open mouth, watching as it curls in playful tendrils, caressing your face as they pass by. Always followed by words that aim to goad, rasped out in a low, intoxicating tone so condescending that it has your knees shaking.

"Need help already, sweetheart?"

"Look at how much your thighs are shaking. Is that from exhaustion, or my cock?"

"Come on now, thought I taught you how to ride dick better than this, love."

And like clockwork, you snap, fingers plucking the lit cigar from his mouth and stamping it out against his discarded shirt. There are many ways you've fired him up enough to finally fuck you. But for a second you fear that the line may have been well and truly crossed.

"Now now, pet, I think you might live to regret that."

You'd get little other warning before rough hands come to grip the plush of your waist, lifting you enough to allow him to plant his feet against the bed and fuck up into you so hard you have little other choice than to collapse against his chest, fingernails leaving biting red lines across skin as you feel his cock hammer against the convulsing walls of your cunt, somehow deeper than you knew possible, dragging against pleasure points you didn't know existed until Price had come along and effectively ruined you for any other man.

It wouldn't take much to send you careening off the edge, pussy clamping down on his cock hard enough he can't help but follow, rough, deep groans reverberate through his chest, where your head is still firmly planted, exhaustion creeping through every aching muscle as you whimper pathetically into red, welted skin, finding comfort in the soft tickle of his chest hair against your tear splotched cheeks.

"Did so well for me, love, always make me feel so fuckin' good."

Because no matter how much Price loves to provoke you, he'll always be there to soothe you afterwards, with soft caresses and consuming kisses.

A pause— 

"Can't believe you put out my fuckin' cigar, and on my favourite shirt, no less."

"It was the least you deserved, John, and you know it."

[gaming-universe]

How You Met || Call of Duty Preferences (1)

Authors Note: This is the first part of my Call of Duty preferences series. I had a lot of fun writing this one. So please enjoy!

Gifs by: @dustysalmon @codsona-moved @daniel-bruehl @une-femme-de-lettres @echo3one @wardencouslands @collinnmckinley @cssndra-cain

John Price

With the six months of recovery beginning to drive you insane, you felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders when Laswell called you in a few weeks early.

Her intel indicated that Al Qatala had planned an attack on Piccadilly Circus in London a few days from now, and she had no one else to call in on such short notice. When she had called, you thought that she might have wanted to meet for coffee, as the two of you usually did every week or so to escape the chaos of life. When she told you that she needed you for a mission, you jumped at the chance, anything to get you out of your stuffy house.

Informing her that you would be in London within twenty-four hours, you packed your bags and headed to the airport, where a plane was already waiting for you. Laswell had texted you all the information you needed for when you arrived in London. You would be met by the man she had put in charge of the entire operation, Captain John Price. You had heard of him in your many years of service, but you had never actually met him. But Laswell spoke highly of him, and you valued her trust in judgment.

As you stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac, your eyes landed on a black SUV parked alongside a maintenance road. Beside it stood a man: tall, arms folded across his chest, beanie on top of his head, with an impressive beard and mustache.

You recognized him from the file Laswell had sent you hours ago, and despite his seemingly warm clothing, Captain Price looked slightly cold in London's cool and overcast weather. He smiled kindly as you approached, stepping forward and extending his hand in greeting. "Lieutenant L/n, thank you for coming on such short notice..." Price spoke politely, taking your smaller hand in his larger calloused one and shaking it firmly.

You smiled up at him in return, goosebumps forming along your skin as a cool breeze blew by. You shivered, a small laugh leaving your lips as Price took your bags from your hands. "Not a problem, Captain..." you replied watching him intently as he placed your bags in the back of the car "Besides, I kind of owe Laswell for coffee last week".

Price chuckled, closing the car door and turning to face you fully. He grinned, "Let me guess, she paid for it?"

"She wouldn't let me, despite the many times I insisted. I think she still feels guilty about what happened in Mexico."

Price turned, kindly opening the passenger side door for you. "She told me about that..." he spoke lowly, looking you up and down carefully, examining your form with a slightly worried expression "...are you sure you're up for this?"

You scoffed, climbing inside the SUV with a small huff of effort. You eyed him cautiously, a stern expression that made Price freeze. "I have been cooped up in my own damn house for six months, attending mandated physical therapy for an injury that healed three months ago. I am fine. If you have any objections, you can speak to Laswell."

For a moment, your eyes met his, and you could see by his expression that he was thinking things over. Then, with a nod of his head, he closed your passenger door without hesitation.

Price took a moment to himself to release a long nervous sigh. As he walked to the driver's side, he couldn't stop thinking about how highly Laswell had spoken of you, and that you were the first person that came to her mind when he had asked for a trustworthy taskforce. He had read your file, and to say that he was impressed was an understatement. He was in awe.

You were exactly what he was looking for, and you were the exact person he needed in the fight against Al Qatala.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

This really wasn't how you wanted your first meeting with Taskforce 141 to go.

Your morning hadn't started off well. Firstly, your alarm didn't go off, and you arrived late to Laswell's briefing. All eyes landed on you as you entered the room, heat flushing to your cheeks as you mumbled a quiet apology under your breath. As Laswell introduced you to the others, you smiled awkwardly in greeting, praying to god that after your late arrival, your day would only get better from here.

But of course, life likes to play cruel tricks. Hours after your first briefing, you dropped an entire stack of files in the hallway, the contents scattering everywhere all over the floor. After that, you got lost several times on your way to your office, cursing yourself every time you asked someone for directions. And to top it all off, the final straw in your terrible, horrible, very bad day, was spilling coffee all over yourself in the mess.

You had been hiding in the women's bathroom for the past few hours, trying desperately to scrub the coffee stain out of your blouse with some wet paper towels, but to no avail. Frustrated with yourself, and the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment sitting uncomfortably in your chest, your eyes welled with tears. As you threw the paper towel in your hands into the bin by your side, you released a long and heavy sigh. As you stared into the mirror, taking in your disheveled appearance, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Y/n? Are you in there?..." a low voice asked from the corridor, "...it's Kyle, I saw you walk in here about two hours ago, and I wanted to make sure that you were alright."

You released a small huff, your shoulders slumping as your emotions finally spilled over. You remembered Kyle from this morning, Gaz, as Price had called him. He had been so kind to you this morning after your awkward late entry and had offered you a seat next to him during the briefing. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you sniffled and cleared your throat, and replied quietly, "I'm fine. I just need a minute."

The door creaked open slightly, and you watched as Kyle's arm squeezed through the crack in the door, a blue sweater clutched in his hand. "I uh, I have a jumper here if you want it. I saw what happened in the mess and thought you might want something to cover up that coffee stain."

A small feeling of gratefulness welled inside your chest as you approached the door, taking the sweater from his hand with a small 'thank you'. As you pulled the sweater over your head and placed your arms through the arm holes you opened the door and stepped back out into the corridor. You met Kyle's eyes with a grateful smile, "You didn't have to do that" You spoke softly, biting your lip as you folded your arms across your chest. He shrugged, leaning against the wall casually "It's fine, you looked kind of distressed, so I wanted to make sure you weren't having some sort of panic attack".

You laughed, "I was getting there, but that's unrelated for now" You replied, before groaning and burying your head in your hands. "Today has been the worst day of my life. I look like a fucking mess, and I've embarrassed myself too many times today."

Kyle chuckled, "Everyone has bad days Y/n, trust me. Yours isn't the worst I've seen."

"Oh really?" You questioned.

"I watched Soap fall flat on his face during a training exercise last week. He just laid there while we laughed."

You couldn't stop the loud laughter that left your lips, your hands instantly flying to your mouth as Kyle smirked. "Oh no..." you exclaimed "...that must have been awful."

"It was for him..." Kyle shrugged "but it was fucking hilarious."

The two of you continued to exchange funny stories, until Ghost appeared at the other end of the corridor, calling for the two of you as a mission had been assigned to the 141 by Shepherd. Kyle gave you a small smile, before motioning with his head for you to follow. "I'll tell you what, after this mission, I'll buy you an actual coffee. I know a nice place off base."

You smiled brightly, nodding your head in agreement. "I'll hold you to that, Garrick."

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

He had been staring at you from across the room since you had arrived.

You had no idea what was wrong with him, or what his apparent problem with you was, but you chose to focus on Price's briefing instead. It was very off-putting, especially since this was your first mission with Taskforce 141. Laswell had recruited you at Price's request. Impressed with your skills and your file, she agreed with him that you would be a perfect addition to the team, and that you would also bring a little balance and reason when needed.

Noticing your slight discomfort, Johnny or Soap' MacTavish moved to stand beside you, sending a warning glare towards his friend cautiously.

"Does he normally glare at every new person that works with you guys?" You whispered, looking up at Johnny beside you with a questioning expression. He shrugged, "Not usually, it's putting me off as well, don't worry. I'll talk to him once this is over."

"Don't you think I should? If I've done something I want to know what exactly is pissing him off."

Johnny hummed lowly in response, turning his attention back to Price. "Only if you want to. If I had to guess, it might be because he doesn't know you. He hasn't worked with you before, so he's trying to size you up." You bit your lip anxiously, releasing an uneasy sigh as you folded your arms across your chest. "No, I know what being sized up feels like. This is something different."

He was examining you from head to toe, trying to determine whether or not you have what it takes to become part of the task force. So maybe Johnny was right, maybe Ghost was sizing you up in his own way. And you weren't going to let him intimidate you, even though it was kind of working.

The second you entered the room, Simon froze. It wasn't something that usually happened, he wasn't always lost for words. He had read your file, thanks to Laswell and Price, and he was impressed by your skills. Seeing you in person, however, there was just something about you that made him feel...strange. It was a good kind of strange, something that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Once Price had finished his briefing, you watched as Ghost pushed away from his position on the wall, and immediately stalked out of the room. You turned to look at Price, who was already looking at you with a confused expression.

You sighed, "It's me, isn't it? I'm the problem?"

Price shrugged. "I don't know, but he'll warm up to you. He just needs some time."

Your gaze fell to the table as you sat quietly in thought. You hoped that this would all work out, especially since you and Ghost would be working together for the foreseeable future.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish

"Have you met either of them before?" Alejandro asked, the two of you jumping out of the truck and stepping onto the tarmac, watching as the large plane landed on the runway ahead.

You shrugged as you moved to stand in front of the truck, leaning against the bullbar. "I've worked with Ghost a few times. As for Sargeant MacTavish, this would be the first."

Alejandro chuckled, "I suppose you all work under Laswell, eh?"

"You suppose correctly, although it has been some time since I've worked with a familiar face" You replied, smirking teasingly as Alejandro turned to face you, an expression of mock hurt on his features. "Am I not good enough company!?" he shouted over the sound of the plane's engines, throwing his arms out in an exaggerated manner.

You laughed loudly in reply, "You know I love you!"

Alejandro smirked back at you, before turning back to face the now-lowered plane ramp. You watched from afar as two men descended the ramp, the skull mask clearly visible even from this distance. You watched as Alejandro and Ghost spoke with each other, while the younger, unfamiliar man watched them intently.

His gaze turned towards you and you smiled kindly in greeting.

John froze. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Simon had mentioned that they were going to work with an old colleague of his, but he didn't mention that you were absolutely gorgeous. Whatever Simon and Alejandro were talking about now fell on deaf ears as he watched you give him a small wave.

Wow, Simon has been holding out on me.

A sharp jab to the ribs from his left brought John out of his daze, turning his attention towards Simon who was already glaring at him. "She will eat you alive" He warned sternly, knowing John's exact train of thought.

"What are you saying exactly?" John challenged, eyeing the Lieutenant with a smirk.

A deep chuckle came from his right, John turning to see Alejandro shaking his head. "He means exactly that, my friend. She's fierce. I'm tempted to ask Laswell to permanently assign her to the Vaqueros."

"Good luck with that..." Simon snapped lightly "Price won't allow her to leave that easily-"

"Are you guys done deciding my life and career for me!?"

All three men turned their gaze to see you standing a few feet away, arms folded over your chest and a knowing smirk on your lips.

They all froze, eyes wide as you approached. Eyeing them individually, you motioned with your head towards the truck behind you. "We have something more important than my life to discuss. You know better than that, Simon". John watched on in shock as Simon's gaze lowered to the ground, mumbling a quick 'sorry' under his breath as he moved to walk past you, heading towards the truck without another word. Alejandro followed, keeping his gaze downward as he too walked back to the truck.

As you rolled your eyes, your attention turned to him, John's entire body tensing. "You must be Sargeant MacTavish..." You spoke politely, extending your hand in greeting, "I'm Y/n."

"So I've heard..." He replied, taking your hand in his "...but please, call me Johnny." The smile that formed on your face took his breath away, the mischievous glint in your eyes doing something to him that he couldn't quite understand.

"Well, Johnny. Just so you know, I make my own decisions around here. The sooner you learn that, we'll get along just fine."

As you turned and walked away, joining Simon and Alejandro back at the truck, John released a long breath and mumbled lowly. "Oh fuck, I'm in so much trouble."

Alex Keller

Throughout the entire briefing, Alex couldn't keep his eyes off you.

Farah had informed him that Captain Price was sending one of his best man, or rather, woman, to help their effort against Al Qatala in Al Mazrah. Farah had been excited about your arrival. You had been with Price when Farah was rescued, and ever since then, she has considered you to be a sister.

She trusts you with her life, and that was good enough for Alex.

He watched you speak with Farah about the next move for her forces, and how you expertly dealt with the situation when Farah protested about laying low.

"If we lay low now, we lose the advantage-"

"And if we attack, there's a chance that they will be waiting for us" you countered, looking between her and himself with a calm ease. With your gaze moving back to Farah, you continued "You attacked two huge targets before I got here. If you attack a third, there is a chance that they are already anticipating us."

"But we have them right where we want them-"

"That may be so, Farah, but you're not listening to me..." You began again, a clear look of exasperation on your features.

Alex could see that you were very tired, and despite obviously being at the end of your tether, you still managed to remain calm. He had to do something.

"She's right, Farah..." Alex interjected, eyeing her with a warning glare, "she came here to help us, so maybe we should listen to her."

The grateful look on your features caused a strange feeling to form in his chest, your tired eyes conveying a small 'thank you' as you turned back to face Farah. She released a long sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She met your gaze with a small nod.

"Alright, you have a point. Come find me if Price or Laswell call" She spoke lowly, leaving the room with her head lowered.

Your eyes moved to focus on Alex once more, sighing heavily as you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Thanks for stepping in there, you didn't have to."

Alex chuckled. "You did have a good point, and you were right. Another attack would have been too risky." He watched you nod in agreement, sighing once again as you rubbed your eyes, stifling a yawn.

Alex found a small grin forming on his lips as he moved to stand up from his seat. "Long flight?" he asked, moving around the table to stand beside you. You nodded again "From one warzone to another..." you chuckled, "I'm a bit exhausted, yes. But I'll manage-"

"No offense, Lieutenant, but you're not going to be much help if you're sleep-deprived" Alex spoke plainly, finding himself enjoying the sound of your loud laughter, as it echoed throughout the room. "Good point, I won't argue with a few hours of sleep" you answered, giving him a genuine though tired smile before leaving the room, and heading for your quarters.

Alex watched you leave and found himself muttering a low 'shit' under his breath, before exiting the room and walking down the opposite end of the hallway.

Alejandro Vargas

Yes, the cartel was becoming more versatile, but why Laswell was choosing to assign a DEA agent to his command was beyond him.

Laswell spoke very highly of you and promised that you would be perfect for the job. That didn't mean that he had to like you. He watched you from across the room as you spoke to Rudy. He was smiling down at you, and you were smiling up at him. You were getting along with all of his men, and it was pissing him off.

His men adored you, and Rudy adored you. And he...who was he kidding, you were fucking gorgeous.

There was no way that he would admit it out loud, he couldn't. He could see you looking at him from the corner of your eye, the glare on your expression causing his jaw to clench. You were doing something to him, and he hadn't spoken a single word to you yet.

You held Alejandro's gaze, watching as his jaw clenched, and noticing how his shoulders tensed. Since you stepped off that plane, you've felt like he hated your guts. It was an uncomfortable feeling, your stomach twisting uneasily as you refused to be the first one to look away.

"Please tell me that he isn't going to look at me like that the entire time I'm here" You muttered lowly, as Rudy followed your line of sight.

You saw movement in your peripherals, as Rudy moved closer to your side. "He won't. I'll make sure of it" he spoke lowly, his tone directed to his friend across the room. Feeling slightly relieved as Alejandro dropped his gaze to the floor, you sighed and turned to face the man beside you.

Rudy was already staring at you, a small grimace on his features as he huffed. "I'm sorry about him, he's usually more welcoming than this" he apologized, moving to stand in front of you and blocking your view of Alejandro. You shrugged your shoulders, pressing your lips together in a thin line, "I'm guessing I'm not what you guys were expecting?" You asked awkwardly, almost afraid to know the answer.

Rudy chuckled softly, meeting your nervous gaze with a kind smile. "He was expecting Laswell to send someone we knew, someone like Ghost or Soap. Hell, we didn't even know that Laswell had contacts in the DEA."

"She doesn't, I'm the only one..." You answered, grinning as Rudy's eyes widened in shock "...I used to work for her, but I got hurt on a mission and was honorably discharged. She helped me get a job with the DEA, and I owed her a favor."

Rudy nodded, an impressed look on his face. You could just see Alejandro over Rudy's shoulder, his glare softer this time, but still menacing nonetheless.

You felt your chest tighten, as you held his gaze once more, a feeling that made your heart skip a beat. Why? You had no idea. You weren't going to let this man get the better of you, no matter how dangerously attractive he was.

Rudolfo Para

Stepping off the plane, you took a deep breath in and sighed heavily. While the air in Mexico was humid, it was much better than the stuffy air on board the cargo plane.

Once down the ramp, and after you had stepped onto the tarmac, you were met by Alejandro. "Thank you for coming on such short notice..." He spoke kindly, leading you towards the awaiting truck only a few feet away, "if Hassan is moving as fast as Laswell claims, we're going to need all the help we can get."

"I'm happy to help. Besides, having me with you will help if he manages to cross the border" You replied, looking over at Alejandro with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. He chuckled lowly "Hopefully we will catch him before it comes to that."

As you approached the truck, you noticed a man standing beside the passenger door, arms folded over his chest as he watched the two of you approach. When his eyes met yours, you noticed that his entire demeanor changed. His eyes widened as he stood up straight, brushing invisible lint from his clothes as both you and Alejandro stopped in front of him.

"Y/n, I would like you to meet my best man, Rudolfo Para" Alejandro introduced, the two of you shaking hands.

Smiling innocently, you looked up at Rudolfo with a kind expression. "Nice to meet you, Rudolfo."

"Please, call me Rudy..." He spoke happily, a small nervous laugh escaping him as he pulled his hand away "...we appreciate you coming out here to help us."

"Not a problem, Rudy. I've been tracking Hassan for months, there's no way that I would miss this" You answered, your smile widening before you climbed inside the awaiting truck.

When the truck door closed, Rudy released a long, shaky breath. His eyes met Alejandro's, who was already smirking knowingly at him. His best friend knew him too well and could read him like an open book, the bright flushed redness to his cheeks aside.

"I know that look..." Alejandro teased, his smirk growing wider and more menacing "...though I can't blame you, she's gorgeous-"

"That's enough out of you" Rudy snapped, punching his friend's shoulder as Alejandro laughed darkly.

"Oh come on, don't deny it-"

"I'm not denying anything-"

"You were like a deer in headlights" Alejandro chuckled, mocking Rudy with an exaggerated wide-eyed expression.

With an embarrassed groan, Rudy clambered into the passenger side of the truck all the while trying to hide his bright red face from you. As Alejandro sat in the driver's seat, you cleared your throat awkwardly from the back seat.

"Hey boys, if you're going to talk about someone...make sure they don't speak the same language."

Rudy felt his heart stop.

Phillip Graves

You couldn't take your eyes off him.

In all your years of working with Laswell and being part of Taskforce 141, you had never heard of Shadow Company or Phillip Graves. The fact that they were brought in by General Shepherd made you suspicious enough, but the man did save your life via an airstrike on your mission to find Hassan, so maybe he wasn't all that bad. As a bonus, he was incredibly attractive.

You watched Graves interrogate Hassan before it was decided by Shepherd and Laswell that he had to be let go. Your jaw clenched as Shepherd gave the order, before Graves closed the laptop on the hood of the truck to your side. You heard him swear under his breath, his jaw clenching in annoyance as he turned to watch Ghost and Soap release Hassan.

"We were so fucking close" he growled, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at Hassan's retreating figure. You nodded, sighing heavily as you shrugged. "We'll get another chance..." You spoke plainly, turning your head toward him "I don't know when that will be, but I'm hoping we do."

Graves huffed a short laugh, his eyes meeting yours as he pressed his lips together in a line. "Oh we will, he's not getting off that easy" he spoke matter-of-factly, moving closer to you and staring down at you "Though I'm a bit pissed that we went through all that trouble for nothing."

"That is sometimes the job..." You laughed "Not everything goes to plan."

Graves nodded, giving you a kind smile. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the only noise being that of the desert at night, and the voices of Ghost and Soap only a few feet away.

As heat crept onto your cheeks, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "I uh, I don't think we've actually met in person..." You spoke lightly, "I'm Y/n."

"Phillip Graves..." the man beside you replied, smirking down at you with a playful expression, "I'm glad that I can finally put a face to a name. Especially one I rescued."

It was your turn to laugh, "I appreciate it, really. Though I think an airstrike is pretty extravagant."

"Oh, I don't call in an airstrike for just anyone..." Phillip shrugged, "but I figured I should make a good first impression."

You blushed a bright red as you laughed, shaking your head at his bold and flirtatious tone. It made your stomach backflip and your heart skip a beat. Maybe it was his accent, or maybe it was the way he was practically undressing you with his eyes.

There was an immediate tension forming between the two of you, one that caused your breathing to stutter, and your legs to-

"Oi! You two, let's go!" Ghost called out to the two of you, forcing both you and Phillip out of your bubble of sexual tension. Clearing your throat, you avoided Phillips's eyes as you immediately turned on your heel, making a beeling for your two teammates.

Phillip watched you walk away and muttered under his breath. "Fuck, this is going to be difficult."

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 29

John “Soap” MacTavish + Muscle/Body Worship

I’m still exhausted from all my homework and exam prep, but the I’m not gonna let that stop me. Readers older than Soap and is retired from the military.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Retirement was strange for you, especially after having been active in the military for most of your life. Now that you had retired, there was very little to do to fill your day, Especially with Soap away still on active duty. Your relationship was a little strange in the eyes of others, mainly because of your age gap, but you were both adult men with careers when you first met and knew what you wanted.

You spent most of your days doing hobbies, like woodwork or messing with junker cars. The people of the town you and Soap lived in knew you as the older ex-military man who took no shit, but knew how to get even the oldest car running, or creating the wildest things outta wood.

The life outside of the military had taken much stress of your shoulders, but the access to any treat you could want and not being on the move at all times was starting to show. You were still strong as an ox and big in width and height, but as time went on a layer of fat gathered over your muscles. You still looked like you could take down a bear singlehandedly, but insecurity was starting to gather in your chest.

Combine your sudden plush and the grey starting to gather in your hair and beard, the ugly voices in your head started to whisper and murmur. A part of your mind was sure that the moment Soap saw you when he came back from duty, hed turn the other way and run for the hills, as you weren’t the man he had left those months ago.

It was that insecurity that had you pulling on an army fleece jacket, one that still fit and served to hide some of your newer bulk, the day you had to go pick him up from the airport. You were chewing your lip as you leaned against a wall near the back, surrounded by other people greeting their loved ones coming home. When you saw Soap, you almost talked yourself out of calling out for him, but before you could make any decision, he spotted you.

The Scot rushed through the crowd with his army bags, his eyes running up and down your body in a way that had your skin crawling enough that you didn’t notice the hunger that grew in them. He groaned as he hugged you, his bags forgotten on the floor as he kissed you, his arms squeezing around your middle as he couldn’t seem to stop himself from grabbing onto your ass or thighs, squeezing the thicker material of your thighs with an appreciative hum.

Insecurity gnawed in your stomach as you pulled back from Soaps hungry lips, clearing your throat as you reached them to scoop up his bags and lug them over his shoulder. You lover huffed about it for a bit, but you just grinned and made your way towards the car, unaware of the holes Soap was burning in your body as he seemed to take in every change he had missed.

The drive back to your home was spent sharing what you’d both missed, you sharing town gossip, and Soap telling you about 141. As you drove, you almost pulled away as Soap grabbed onto your thigh, his strong hand almost kneading the softer muscle under his palm. But seeing as you were driving, you couldn’t pull away like you wanted too, but Soap seemed to notice your discomfort and pulled his hand to himself with a worried furrow to his brow.

When you got home, you could tell Soap wanted to jump you immediately. It was tradition at this point, after being apart for a while, you two would spend hours expressing the feelings you hadn’t been able too all that time. But the insecurity in your body had you avoiding his advances, even though you had missed him just as much as he had missed you.

His pouting and puppy eyes almost had you throwing your insecurities about your body out the window, but then you would pass by a reflective surface, and you would see your thicker body, your rounder stomach or the extra roundness in your cheeks, and your fears would return tenfold.

This continued for a few days, until Soap finally seemed to have enough as you guys were typically better at talking about anything wrong. You had taken to sleep fully clothed, when in the past all you had slept in were a pair of boxers. That night you two were laying in bed, Soap acting as the big spoon as you liked to switch, his face burrowed in your shoulders as he squeezed your middle.

“God, you’re so fucking hot” he groaned, his hips rolling into your back as he exhaled shakily, his lips pressing against the exposed skin of your neck. You found your face growing hot, along with heat pooling in your gut as he murmured out all the things he thought, a shaky exhale leaving you as he ran his hands up under your shirt.

“The moment I saw you, I almost jumped you then and there, right in the airport” he purred, switching from kisses to bites and sucks. You wanted to retort, to claim he was lying, but the way he panted and ground against your back, his hard cock rutting against you made his point clear. He truly didn’t seem to mind your bodies changes, quite the opposite, he seemed almost rabid with how much he loved it.

“Come on love, roll over” he groaned, withdrawing from your back to grab at your shoulders, rolling you onto your back, but not before wrestling the shirt off your torso. You didn’t even have time to gasp out his name before he descended upon you, grabbing, licking, and sucking hickeys all over your torso, moaning against the fat and muscle of your strong torso.

You gripped onto his mohawk, a shuddery gasp leaving you as he licked and sucked between your thick pecs, his eyes locked on your own, looking half mad and starved as Soap worked his way down your body. “This stomach” he growled, gripping onto your stomach and licking over it, his voice rough and almost worshipping in tone.

“These fuckin thighs” Soap groaned out, pulling your sleep pants down your hips to bury his face between them, gripping them to squeeze them around his head. He looked like a man in heaven as you flexed your thighs carefully, squeezing his head softly between them as he so badly seemed to want.

A curse left you as Soap dug his teeth into the meat of your thigh, working like a man possessed to mark them all over as if to make up for lost time. When he finally seemed to have worked his way all over your body, you found yourself aching hard, a wet spot gathering in your boxers.

Soap almost purred as he ran the flat side of his tongue over your shaft through your boxers, his pupils blown and hair a mess. Wrenching down your boxers, he was upon you like a starved animal, sucking you all the way down his throat even as he gagged and coughed, like all Soap wanted was you to fill his mouth.

The noises were slick and wet as he worked his lips up and down you, one of his hands gripping your thick thigh as the other rolled your balls, his acts akin to worship as Soap moaned and groaned like the act brought him just as much pleasure as it brought you.

It had been a while since you had gotten yourself off, you age playing a factor, as your libido wasn’t as high as it had once been without Soap there, so the end quickly hurdled close. “F-fuck, John” you grunted, voice raspy as he looked down at him, his blue eyes staring up at you with such a deep hunger, his movements growing more desperate and his noises needier.

The grip on his mohawk tightened as you clenched your eyes shut, a deep guttural noise leaving you as you spilled into his mouth, thick spurts of white striking the back of his throat and tongue, Soap moaning louder than you as he gulped it all down like it was a delicacy.

Soap gave a few extra sucks and slurps, just to make sure it was all drawn out of you before withdrawing with a lewd pop, his lips red and wet as he grinned wolfishly. A soft chuckle left you as you fell back onto the pillows, grabbing onto his hips as he clambered on top of you. You both knew it would take a while before you could get hard again, but Soap seemed just as happy to start rutting against your stomach, needy noises leaving him as you moved his hips for him in a tight grip.

[manticore-fangs]

POV: you (trying to) baby-trap soap.

cw: breeding, dub-con/non-con?? leg-locking, idk what else. you’ve been warned

johnny’s hands on your hips as he fucks into your slick cunt, moaning and groaning above you. fucking the living hell out of you. the squelching noises bouncing off the walls while you moan so sweetly like candy. though you did lie about being on your birth control while fucking johnny, knowing he has a breeding kink. you just want his kid so bad! so why not fuck him when your ovulating and off those pills!!

you throw your head back, your legs thrown over johnnys shoulders. you huff and moan, writhing around. the pleasure being almost unbearable at the fact he’s almost hitting your cervix. sore from the bruising of his grip on the back of your thighs and sore from the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot so well.

“fuck lassie. need’ya pussy so bad- need to breed ya’ pussy with ma’ loads.” he moans out with a whine. thrusting even harder with the pace he’s at now. you start to leg lock him, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking him in to not waste his cum. while locking him, you claw at his back. desperately trying to grip something and distract him from noticing how your leg locking him so intensely.

“lemme fill ya’ with ma’ babes lassie- please. need tae’ get ye’ barefoot and pregnan’ fer me.” he grunts out, slamming his hips against yours harshly. most likely to leave bruises in his way of fucking the living shit out of you. you nod your head at his words. “yes, yes! please get me pregnant johnny- want your babies so bad. promise you’ll give me your kids, promise me please.” you bet with the man, forcing him to make a promise with you while the pleasure starts to spike.

“i promise. i promise ya’. i’ll fill yer womb with ma’ babes, i promise you tha’. trust me, i’m dumpin’ my loads into ya’ as much as possible. forcing my loads inside your womb so you can give me some babies.” he rambles on. you moan loudly at every single word, grabbing at his shoulders and back. scratching him as you guys both get closer to the edge. a large wave pulling back and-

“fuck, give it tae’ me lassies, give me yer orgasm. c’mon, let johnny fuck his cum into ya’.” and that breaks you too pieces. legs shaking yet staying still as your leg is still locked around his waist. before he realizes he can’t pull out. “cannae’ pull out lassie- gotta-“ “no!” you say, tears rolling down your cheeks. “no, want you to come in me please. please johnny need to feel it.” you start to hump into him while he whimpers. nodding to you as you speak, beginning to thrust up into you to chase his orgasm.

the overstimulation consuming you as you go under, finally feeling the warmth of johnny’s seed inside your cunny. so you do is rest and lay numb in the bed. johnny rolls over, grabbing you and flipping you onto him. your feeling horribly tired from the rough fuck but right as you let sleep take you. you hear the words.

“i kno’ ya’ stopped taking yer birth control. don’t worry lass. i switched ‘em out for sugar pills anyways.”

[lovifie]

Hi this is my first ever request lol, so I uh was wondering if you could write a soap x reader little red riding hood. It could be some cute fluff or I guess even smutty depending on how you'd want to depict it. Sorry if it's a rather blank request, I'm very bland when it comes to writing and such (>_<)

Hi love! Thank you so much for the request, I hope I met your expectations 🩷

It did turn really smutty though, so I hope you don't mind 🩷

Back to Masterlist

W: Werewolf!Soap x Little Red Riding Hood!Reader (inspired at least), smut, defined breeding kink must it's mostly a werewolf thing, biting, mentions of pregnancy (is the breeding kink warm up, you know), knoting.

You were used to being the one taking your grandma her food, making sure she still ate the produce she couldn't acquire in her house deep into the forest.

So every other week, you would do your little journey. It didn't take long, you'll get to her house before lunch time and you chose to stay the day with her before making your way back.

You already knew the path like the back of your hand, always on time and never getting lost.

There is also Johnny, a friendly neighbour who on many occasions chooses to walk along with you. The chat is nice, makes the walk more entertaining even when you go the different route that Johnny showed you; just because it is longer and that way you can talk for longer.

You obviously didn't trust him at first, a grown man in the middle of the forest sounds terrifying on its own. And you need to add to that the fact that Johnny is built like a brick house.

“I could have you for dinner.” He joked once when you asked him what did he ate to be so big. A silly joke.

The fear of the big man following you in the forest, quickly turned into the big man walking with you. And the little fear you had of the wild dissipated the closer he walked with you.

Especially, when during the spring rumours started flying around about a massive wolf living in the forest. Apparently a huge striped dog has been seen walking on the forest line for a couple of weeks now, always looking into the town but never quite entering.

The dog, big enough to be the size of a grown man on his hinged legs, eyes that reflect the light of the fire and teeth to rip the flesh off the bone.

Your grandma moved out of her house, moving inside town to be away from the animal. Still, you couldn't sleep at night knowing Johnny was out there.

With your grandma living in your house, you didn't have an excuse to walk in the forest. But still, on a freezing morning in the middle of spring you found yourself walking inside the forest wishing you could come across Johnny quickly and be back home.

What you come across instead, is a growling behind you. So deep you feel it shaking your bones before you can see it. You only need to see the outline of the monster before you are sprinting for your life, it is a stupid decision and you know it. It immediately triggers the beast to follow you.

The path to your grandma's house has never been so long and you don't even make half way through before you fall, tripping on your own feet. You turn around, looking for the dog which seems to have evaporated into thin air.

A warm hand on your back makes you jump, turning around and coming face to face with Johnny, a pained expression on his face. You jump into his arms, a groan into your ear as he hugs you back, a bit too hard.

You peel back when he cups your face. “You shouldn't be here, bonnie.” He says, looking in pain, making every alarm bell ring on your head.

You pat his body, looking for any injury and hearing him groan whenever your hand touches his body. “Are you in pain? Did it attack you? Are you fine?” You ask frantically.

“Lass!” He grunts, making you look into his eyes, dark when you lay your eyes on his. “You need to get back! Get away from me!”

“But why?” You ask, hurt with the rejection. “I came here just for you, Johnny…”

He groans, looking away from your face as he licks his lips. He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “You need to go back because every part of my body is screaming at me to eat you whole, bonnie.”

“You can.” It comes out before you can register it, you are not a stranger to your own feelings for the man in front of you. The weekly walks, your hand on his arm, his hand on your back, the soft pecks on your cheek when saying goodbye. It quickly had you getting home warm on the face and your tummy.

The man groans again, closing his eyes, as if your words hurt him. “You don't know what you are saying-”

“I do! I do know!” You argue, cutting him off and sitting up closer to him but his arms pull you back. He looks down on you, searching for any doubt in your face. Anything that could silence the hungry voice in his brain, but when the only thing he can find is the same hunger in yours he laps forward, crushing his lips on yours.

He is not gentle by any means, his wide hands roam your body pulling you closer, grabbing your body, winking his nails into your flush meat, biting your lips, growling on your mouth. His hands scrunch up your dress, ripping the bloomers under it making you gasp at the feeling of the cold air on your core.

“I can fucking smell you, bonnie. And it's driving me mad. You have been driving me mad for months.” He grunts against your mouth, grabbing your hips to sit you on top of his.

You whine at his words. “I want to feel you, Johnny. I want to feel you here.” You say, grabbing one of his hands to place it on top of your crying cunt.

Johnny takes a deep breath, regulating himself, before he sinks two of his fingers inside of you; the stretch making you mewl against Johnny's neck, moaning softly as he starts to move his wrist.

You can feel him grind his hips against your, the material of his trousers rubbing against your exposed clit making you whine and he quickly shushes you kissing your temple as his fingers open you up for him.

“I can't wait to sink into you, my sweet bonnie.” He groans at you, making you clench at the sound.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, closing his eyes as he hums at the taste. His pupils impossibly wide when he opens them again, the blue on his eyes barely visible.

He helps you onto your hand and knees, standing behind you as he licks your neck from behind, his tip probing at your entrance. You don't have a chance to peek at his shaft, so you don't expect the wide stretch that just simply seems to never end.

Never in your life has you felt this full, the stretch of his fingers far from enough and it has you falling face first with his hands on your hips.

He grunts when he bottoms out inside of you, bending down to lick the tears on your cheeks. “Shh, bonnie lass. You are taking me so well, I could live right here. So tight, so warm, so wet “ he moans, pulling his hips slightly back making you whine as you clench down making him grunt.

It's too much, it is reaching places you were not aware existed; his wide hands on your hips keeping you in place, it has your brain mushy barely able to put your hands under your face to prevent yourself from eating dirt.

His thrust starts to get deeper, slowly pulling out until only his tip is inside just to push in again just as deliciously slow as the first one. It is torturous how slow he fills you up, the empty feeling when he pulls back making you whine and move your hips back.

He pulls himself back, not wanting to give in to his instincts just yet, needing to know you are ready. The way your cunts sucks him in whenever he pulls back making him grunt; he hears you moan his name, asking for more, and that is everything he needs to hear.

He bends down, hugging your middle as he shoves his face on your neck, keeping you in place to be able to piston his dick in and out of your weeping cunt as fast as his hips allow him.

It pulls the breath out of your lungs, only able to moan loud like a whore as the man on your back fucks you like a bitch in heat.

His arms are tight around your body, his grunts and groans loud on your ear and when his hand moves lower, right over your clit rubbing it, is like pushing the button to have you coming undone.

You cry out his name, eyes rolling back as you do, your cunt pulsing around his cock making him fuck you faster.

You don't have time to come back down, not stopping pleasure waving over you. Filth being talked into your brain. “I'm gonna fuck you full of my pups, love. Gonna keep you forever, full of me, love. Gonna make you a mama, round and plush.” He groans, his brain empty of any sense and only listening to his instincts of breeding, the spring making him completely lose his ability to think clearly.

Another round of stretch has you whining softly, you are already to the brim what is it now? You cry at the feeling, Johnny mouth opening over the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His thrust became sloppy, more shallow as if he couldn't move as freely. He bites down hard on your shoulder, making you whine at the pain but the way you clench down on his length as he grunting as he comes inside of you, his hips flush with yours.

You moan at the feeling, warmth feeling every bit of your inside. But after a while you try to pull, wanting to lay down. Just for a stinging sensation to make you cry and Johnny to grab your hips to prevent you from moving.

“Let's stay like this for a little, bonnie. We stuck.” He groans, as if it makes perfect sense.

“What?” You ask confused.

“Shh, I'll explain it to you later, love.” He says, licking your neck like a dog and caressing your body.

And you want to argue, to understand what he means, to understand what is inside of you opening you so widely, to understand why he was talking about pups, to understand why he bite your shoulder so hard, to understand why the wolf following you suddenly disappeared when he appeared, to understand why he told you to go away, to understand how he found you so easily.

But your eyelids start to weigh tons when Johnny hums behind you, kissing your neck. Plus, the spring is barely starting and Johnny's den is close by. He'll explain later, when his brain stops screaming at him to keep breeding you.

If you liked it please drop a comment or a reblog, it really helps me to want to write more 🩷

TagList: @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @lolly145 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1 @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @crinoid90 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @emat-05 @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @salsamander

@whos-fran

[inkbybambi]

simon "ghost" riley/john "soap" mactavish/f!reader words: 4.2k warnings: mmf, threesome, fingering, anal fingering, finger sucking, riding, creampie, doggy style, pet names (kitten, bonnie, angel, etc), dirty talk, breeding kink notes: this was written as part of the valentine's exchange from @bunnyreaper ♡ this is a gift for @auspicioustidings ♡ this is my first time writing a threesome, but i loved every moment of it ♡ header image is coral charm peony ii by mia tarney

The light of the dying sun slowly drains from the horizon, hues of blues, pinks, and purples following in its wake. There’s a gentle breeze coming through the open windows of the cottage; a little haven tucked away for you and yours. A smile plays at your lips as a small cow-shaped timer trills from its perch on the kitchen counter. You slip on a pair of oven mitts decorated with highland cattle, taking out your shortbread from the oven lest it bake for even a moment too long. 

Your boys were due to be home soon and this sweet treat was the last on your to-do list. 

They had left you earlier that week with a messy amount of kisses pressed to your cheeks and forehead and lips and anywhere they could reach, really. You had similarly returned the favor, finding your favorite lipstick to press marks onto Simon’s mask and Johnny’s glove before pressing other faded marks elsewhere. 

Before letting them cross the threshold back into the world — one that had tried to take them from you more times than you could count — you spritzed your favorite perfume on their wrists, sealing it with a kiss. The scent may fade with the mark, but they’ll know. 

Your heart ached the moment they left and its felt more numb in the days since, waiting dormant for them to return, to let you breathe fully knowing they’re there, that they hadn’t been taken from you. 

You inhale sharply to disperse your lingering worries. They’ve always, always come home to you. Today will be no different.

You leave the shortbread to cool on a rack as you gather your sugar and butter for the caramel next. 

The one perk of solitude means the abundance of time you had to practice. Johnny isn’t necessarily known for his patience — not when it comes to you or Simon — and he would’ve been quite the distraction. You burnt enough caramel without him, thank you very much. 

The soft, warm lights of the kitchen accompany you humming Simon’s favorite song, staring patiently at your pan as your sugar melts slowly, pulling you into a sugary-sweet trance. 

You lose yourself to your very serious task of making sure your caramel doesn’t burn, the melody of the song lost in your throat as your humming softens, concentration on anything outside your little kitchen waning. 

The click of the front door doesn’t phase you, and neither does the muffled thump of boots and bags. The sugar has started to dissolve and you can’t bear to lose your concentration now. 

“Bonnie!” 

You barely have time to register Johnny’s excited shout, head snapping up only moments before strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you up to spin you in a hug. 

“Johnny!” you laugh through your startled yelp, squirming in equal parts because you want to hug him properly and to get back to your caramel. 

“Johnny, the caramel!” you exclaim when his grip on you only tightens, his face pressed between your shoulder blades. 

“Ach, we dinnae caramel,” he says almost petulantly, voice lost against the fabric of your shirt. He does put you down — albeit reluctantly — but all you do is turn in his hold to lace your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer than before. 

“Missed ye,” he says as a soft kiss is pressed to your temple and you bury further into the crook of his neck. You’ve missed his warmth, and his scent, and the comfort of him and being his. 

You feel like you miss him all the time, but it’s the moments when they’re first back when you realize just how much, and the knot of worry slowly unfurls the longer you spend in his arms. 

He cradles the nape of your neck gently and you can hear the angry bubbling of your sugar — too far gone now to save — but you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself away from him for even a moment. 

“Where’s Si?” you ask against his skin when there’s a very distinct lack of your other half from the kitchen, craving his touch just as badly. 

It’s not real until you’ve seen them both, until you’ve touched them both, to know that they aren’t the phantoms that will sometimes accompany your dreams, your memories. 

“Think he went to the shower, hen,” comes Johnny’s soothing reply, pulling you back from your hiding spot to cradle your face in his hands. 

You used to hate how small you felt with them; how it felt like you were an accessory to them rather than part of them. 

Now you feel nothing but protected, cradled carefully in their hold, their own way of keeping you safe. 

You pout, glancing over his shoulder, down the hall to where the bedroom lay, seeing the faint hint of light from the bathroom spilling out. Johnny’s calloused thumb rubs over your bottom lip, before he crowds in close enough to give you  a soft kiss. 

“Without us?” you ask, and he snorts in reply. 

“Go on, then,” he says as he herds you towards the bedroom, a gentle pat to your ass to urge you along. “Go join ‘im.” 

Your pout deepens, holding out your hand for him. 

“Come with me,” you don’t whine, but you wiggle your fingers enticingly. You’ve been without them for so long, you don’t want to go another second without either of them. 

You’re selfish in very few ways, but are unapologetically so when it comes to your boys. 

Johnny steps into your space, a soft kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, before nudging your cheek with his nose. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises with another lingering kiss, and you nuzzle into him momentarily before nodding and releasing his hold. Like a moth to a flame, you follow the path to the bedroom, seeing Simon’s clothes already tucked into the basket that’s specifically meant for their work clothes. Anything to separate who they are out there to who they are with you. 

You shed your own clothes, placing them in the empty hamper before stepping into the bathroom, the tile cold on your feet. 

He stands just beyond the glass, new scratches and bruises littering his skin. You’re going to kiss each and every one before you fall asleep tonight. You take a few moments to appreciate him; the broad expanse of his back, the slight layer of fat that surrounds his tummy, thick thighs that you love to bury yourself between, muscles moving like water. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” comes his teasing lilt as he turns to face you, a smirk plastered on his lips as he tilts his head in invitation. You bite your lip to hide your excitement, hurrying over to join him in the shower, taking his hand as he reaches for you, drawing you under the spray of the water.

“I have plenty of photos, actually,” you tease back. He tilts your chin up with a tattooed finger, leaning down to kiss you, before he moves to hold your throat delicately, keeping you in place. You inch up on your toes to press even closer, nipples pressed against his broad chest. 

“Not nearly enough, love,” he replies, not giving you a moment to answer before he draws you back into his mouth, licking into you and swallowing your gasps. You hum and lean into him, lacing your arms around his shoulders. One of his large hands splays against the middle of your back, the other trailing down your spine to the curve of your ass, pulling you in close. 

“Missed you,” you breathe out between kisses, as you cup his face to kiss him deeper, desperation thickening in your veins the longer you’re in his hold. “Missed you so much,” and your nails dig into his skin, adding a collection of your own marks to the others on his body. 

A warm body at your back makes you shiver, pulling away from your kiss to lean your head back on his shoulder. Simon cradles the back of Johnny’s head, kissing him softly. 

“You two need to clean up,” you murmur into Johnny’s jaw, lips grazing the stubble that’s been growing for a few days. It burns your lips, but you’re thankful for any reminder of them. 

“But you’re so comfortable,” Johnny practically whines as he leans further into you, arms tight around your waist, thankful Simon was there to provide stability or else you absolutely would’ve lost balance. 

“Johnny,” Simon admonishes gently, a bite to his ear in reprimand. Johnny squeezes your tummy tighter in reply, but turns to brush his nose gently over Simon’s. 

You wriggle from his grip, a hand on each of their forearms for balance, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s mouth before pressing one to Simon’s. 

“The quicker you get clean, the quicker you can join me on the bed,” is your parting words as you grab a fluffy towel from the rack, drying yourself before sauntering to the bedroom, diving into fresh sheets. 

You hear the soft murmurs of their conversation curtained by the fall of the water, rolling onto your back and arching up as you stretch, feeling as the tension seeps from your body, relaxing further into the mattress. 

“MacTavish!” comes Simon’s warning bark before a very excited, very wet Johnny launches himself into the bed at you, burrowing his face into your neck as you giggle, feeling the bubbles of body wash that he hadn’t bothered to rinse all the way off. 

He peppers your throat and jaw with kisses, teeth scraping every now and then before he reaches your mouth for a breathless kiss, and you cradle his head gently, nails grazing along the nape of his neck, feeling how his shaved sides have grown just a little since they went away. You’re sure he’ll let you clean him up proper tomorrow, but you don’t want you or either of your boys to leave the bed for the foreseeable future. 

“Simon’s grumpy,” he says against your cheek, and you can’t help but snort. 

“Can’t possibly imagine why,” you tease in return, gripping a longer part of his mohawk and giving a harsh tug, hoping Simon brings an extra towel or two with him because the bed is damn near drenched — and not in the fun way. 

“Absolute menace, that one,” Simon says as he comes from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips showing the tantalizing line of his tummy that you love so much. 

“Aye,” Johnny agrees with a cheeky smile, removing himself from you and sitting on his heels, settling himself over you to turn back and look at Simon. “But ye love me.” 

Simon comes forward with a fresh towel in hand, motioning for Johnny so he can dry him off. 

Simon doesn’t say anything in reply — he doesn’t have to, and both you and Johnny know that your declarations of love will never go unrequited — instead stopping at the edge of the bed and reaching for him. 

“Be a good pup,” you say as  you push him back with your foot, pressing him back into Simon’s hold so he can dry him off, ruffling his mohawk and wiping away the lingering drops that cling to his tanned skin, Johnny’s own marks and scars adorning his body. The intensity of the blue of his eyes feels like a shock of electricity, his gaze unwavering from yours as Simon tilts his head to the side to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, a soft I love you pressed to his skin. Simon’s lips graze over to his ear, murmuring something too low for you to hear. 

Johnny turns enough to catch Simon’s mouth in a rough, dirty kiss, teeth nipping his bottom lip before a tap to his ass pushes him into motion, crawling his way over the bed back to you. 

You arch up into his body as he slinks closer, a hand on your jaw pulling you into for a filthy kiss of your own. You whine against his mouth as Johnny pulls you up from where you lay on the bed, moving to take your place. 

Johnny settles you over his hips, blue eyes sparkling in the lingering light of the bathroom, a fond smile painting his lips. As cute as he looks — and he looks adorable — the thick heat of his cock resting between your legs makes you ache, makes you want him to take what he wants. His nails dig into your calves as he anchors you against him, rocking his hips against yours, cock moving through your slick and catching on your clit. 

“God, we missed ye,” Johnny sighs out as he digs his nails into your skin, and you bite your lip against the sting of his possession. 

“Never heard the end of it,” Simon says as he comes around the side of the bed, one leg braced on the mattress, the towel parting enough to show his aching cock. 

“Did you take good care of our pup?” you ask through a gasp as you turn to the blonde, eyes fluttering as Johnny’s cock catches at your entrance. 

“Always, love,” he promises, Simon crowding in close as you pull his towel loose, blindly tossing it from the bed as he kneels on the bed at your side, swallowing your next gasp as he presses his lips to yours. 

“Don’t like it when you leave,” you pout against his lips as he moves to kiss down your jaw and throat, trailing his lips over your shoulder. Your head tilts to the side, wanting his teeth in your skin. 

“We’re here, darlin’,” Johnny soothes as a hand grazes up your side to grip your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until it hardens under his touch. You lay above him, arms braced by his head as you catch him in a kiss, happily letting him take control as his tongue licks deep into your mouth. “We’re not going anywhere,” is his whispered promise and you just nod in agreement as you press your mouth back against his, unable to get enough of his touch, of his taste. 

“Missed your cock,” you whimper with a sharp roll of your hips, Simon settling behind you, hands on your waist as his chin tucks over your shoulder, watching your slick soak Johnny’s cock. 

“Gorgeous thing,” is Simon’s soft purr of praise, one of his hands slipping down the line of your tummy until he can press two fingers against your clit, his other hand grazing up to hold your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder. 

“Dreamed of your cunt, bonnie,” Johnny pants from beneath you, feeling his cock pulse with each of your thrusts. His fingers grip your hips tight, and Simon tuts at him from his perch over your shoulder. 

“Don’t cum, pup,” and Johnny only whines in reply, nails biting into your skin. “Wanna see your cum spill from her pretty pussy.” 

You’re breathless, need and want coursing through your blood, desperate for something more. 

“Please,” you mewl as you try to paw for Johnny’s chest, but Simon’s hold on your throat keeps you in place. 

One of Johnny’s hands grip you hard enough to lift you from his lap, his other fisting the root of his cock so he can guide you down onto him slowly, your pussy fluttering as you sink deeper in his lap until he’s completely sheathed. 

“Fuck,” he bites out, and you feel the way his legs shake as he holds off his release. He looks gorgeous beneath you, head thrown back against the pillows, the line of his throat exposed and mournfully free of marks from either you or Simon. 

“How’s she feel?” Simon asks, dipping his fingers lower to feel for himself  where you and Johnny are connected. 

“L-like a fuckin’ dream,” comes his panted reply. 

“You wanna fuck ‘er?” he asks, like you aren’t even here. 

You feel like you aren’t, lost in the pleasure of Johnny’s cock nestled deep inside you, stuffing you full. You don’t think Johnny is capable of words after a week without you and your touch, but soon he starts a slow grind of his hips up into you, the crown of his cock pressing against your cervix. 

You cry out in pleasure as he continues the slow roll of his hips, fighting the urge to beg him to fuck you rough. This is for him just as much as it is for you. 

Simon’s grip on your throat remains, thick fingers collaring you, keeping you safe. The two fingers he used to rub your clit, to feel where Johnny was plugged into you, grazes your lips. You willingly open your mouth, swallowing down his fingers as best you can with him behind you. 

“Did you miss me too, darling?” he asks, though you can feel his smirk pressed against your skin, knowing you can only gurgle your answer around his fingers, spit spilling out from the corner of your mouth. 

“I know, kitten,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder, pressing his fingers even deeper, causing you to choke, your throat working around his digits. “I missed you too.” 

He withdraws his fingers as you gasp for breath, losing it the next second when Johnny snaps his hips up hard against you. His soaked fingers trail down your spine to your other hole, the tight ring of muscle fluttering as he circles it, just pressing the tips of his fingers against it. 

“Johnny couldn’t stop talking about your ass,” Simon says against your skin. Your eyes flash to Johnny’s, glazed and dark, but his eyes are locked to Simon’s. “Told me how warm it is,” he continues, very carefully pressing one of his thick fingers against your rim as you beg yourself to relax. “How every single inch of you,” he says as he slowly begins to pump his finger deeper and deeper with each word, “is meant for us.” 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, Simon,” comes Johnny’s choked moan, “she’s squeezin’ me so tight.” 

Simon hums in reply as he continues his leisurely pace of fucking his finger into you. “Wonder what my cock would feel like in here,” he muses, continuing a line of kisses across your shoulders. He digs his teeth in deep into your shoulder, a shaky moan rising in your throat as he wiggles a second finger into the tight ring of muscle. 

“T-too much,” you whine out, asshole fluttering desperately around his fingers. Johnny’s cock was bigger than Simon’s two fingers — but it had been well over a week since either of them had touched you there. 

He stills as Johnny leans up to kiss along your collar and chest, tongue licking across your nipples. 

“Give me a color, love,” he asks gently, the fingers around your throat loosening so it’s easier for you to breathe. Johnny’s soft pants ghost against your skin as he holds your waist gently, ever so patient with you. 

“Bonnie?” comes Johnny’s soft prompting, laced with concern when you didn’t answer. 

“Green,” you whisper out after another moment of pause, and Simon’s answering good girl makes you melt further into their touch. 

Sweet, precious girl Johnny whispers against your collar, one arm laced around your waist as his other hand reaches for Simon’s hip. 

You bite your lip as tears thicken your throat. Your head is muddy with pleasure and love for your two boys, not realizing how much you’ve missed them until now, their soft praise spoken against your skin, kisses and devotion pressed to each exposed inch that they can reach. 

Simon carefully begins to thrust his fingers into you, sinking deeper each time until he’s able to curl and thrust without any resistance. Heat licks deep in your belly, broken moans catching in your throat with each expert thrust of his fingers. 

You vaguely hear him ask Johnny for the lube, hearing the pop of the cap as he squirts a generous amount into his hand, coating his length before smearing whatever is left over your hole, empty now without his fingers. 

He drags the tip of his cock over your hole, teasing the relaxed ring of muscle, watching as it looks like your hole is trying to draw him in, desperate. 

“Think you can take me, love?” comes his question pressed against your cheek, and you lace one arm back around to hold the nape of his neck, a soft yes falling from your lips. 

One thing you’ve learned from your boys is they always want to hear you. They love how vocal you are — Johnny especially — but hearing how badly you crave them, need them makes something primal in them snap, wanting to give you everything you beg for and more. 

“Slowly now,” he says as he pushes the crown past your ring of muscle, and you swallow thickly, nails digging into any part of Johnny you can reach. Johnny does his best to distract you with soft praises as Simon slowly sinks into you, pausing halfway when he feels you trembling under his touch. 

“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’,” he groans out, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“Feels good, don’t she, Si?” 

Simon inhales sharply, raising his head enough to pull Johnny in for a kiss as your nails scratch at the base of Simon’s neck, leaning back against him as you watch your boys indulge in each other. 

“Incredible, just like you said,” he agrees with one more kiss, teeth nipping sharply at Johnny’s bottom lip. 

Johnny leans back down against the sheets, pulling you forward. Simon follows carefully, allowing Johnny to adjust your hips so it’s easier for him to sink the rest of the way into your hole. 

“Angel of our lives, ah swear,” Johnny says as he begins to carefully thrust up into you, knocking the wind from your lungs when his sharp thrust catches that squishy spot deep inside you that makes you keen and clench around them, Simon’s moan reverberating against your back. 

Simon carefully ruts into you, timing himself with Johnny’s thrusts, until you can’t think of anything more than the heat coursing through you, sparking and igniting like a wildfire. 

You can’t think of anything other than their names, but after a few minutes, Simon braces one of his feet on the bed so he can thrust in harder, rougher, and your voice cracks with how hard you cry out, lost to the pleasure. 

“Wanna stuff you full,” Johnny babbles beneath you, his thick thumb moving down to rub your clit, touch electric and causing you to moan and shudder in his hold. “Watch our cum drip from you until you’re full of our babe.” 

Simon’s free hand settles over your tummy, thumb stroking in surprising gentleness compared to the absolute filthy mess they’re making of you. 

“You want that, lovie?” Simon asks from behind you, his question punctuated with a sharp thrust, the obscene sound of his balls slapping against your ass accompanying the sounds of Johnny’s cock drenched in your slick. 

You’re helpless and reduced to nodding and whimpering, clenching hard around them as you whine out about giving them a baby. 

“Christ, love,” Johnny grits out before he’s spilling deep inside you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He grips the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss, a mixture of panting his moans against your mouth and swallowing your own. 

Simon’s fingers are back on your clit, your nub hard and sensitive, sensitive to his touch. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant out as you reach your peak, Simon buried deep inside you as his grinds, cock pressed deep inside you. 

Johnny’s cock pulses with your orgasm, walls fluttering and spilling your release over him, the force of it causing his cum to spill out from where Johnny’s still plugged deep. 

“Atta girl,” Simon snarls as he buries his teeth in your shoulder with his own release, your eyes rolling back as you feel each thick pulse of his cum. He growls as he minutely thrusts into you, his own cum spilling from where his cock is nestled in your ass, making a mess of Johnny beneath you two. 

Simon draws his teeth from your shoulder, soothing  over the wound with his tongue as it pulses with your heartbeat. Soft kisses are placed along the line of your shoulders and close to your throat as you settle into their touch. 

He gently draws you to him, pressing a significantly softer kiss to your lips as your breathing evens out. You press your forehead to his to bask in his warmth, his nose pressed to your cheek as his nuzzles into your skin before carefully pulling out, his cum slipping from your hole. He helps keep you in place for Johnny to pull out as well, before Johnny is gathering you into his arms, cradling you against his chest and running his fingers delicately along the line of your back. 

You hate how empty you feel without them, but they’re right there, close enough for you to touch, for you to know they’re here with you, home, finally. 

You nuzzle into Johnny’s hold, already the edges of sleep drawing you deep. Simon settles behind you, a thick arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, to them. You murmur something about ruined caramel, but the press of their lips across your cheeks and forehead are all you need, finally allowing you to rest in the comfort of their arms. 

[waves-against-a-cliff]

He's not Jealous - Soap x you

Content Warnings - possessive sex, jealous sex, fingering, PiV, semi public sex, hair pulling, hickeys and bite marks.

Your Captain, Captain John MacTavish, was not a jealous man. At least, that is what he claimed while he rutted into you so hard the desk moved and his sweat dripped down to your spine because another Captain eyed you up all day.

He was not a jealous man he claimed before dragging you into a pub bathroom, pushing your dress up high and stuffing two of his thick fingers inside you. This time because a man bought you a drink.

He was not a jealous man he claimed while he pounded into you in his barracks, hair held tight in his grip while he told you to keep your mouth open so everyone could hear. Because he heard a group of new recruits talking about your ass.

Okay. Maybe he was jealous or maybe he was just staking his claim when the next day, without fail, you would be covered in hickeys, bite marks and noticeably walking a little stiff.

[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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