#john soap mctavish x you

[lmao-liz]

long distance video calls with soap

my first time writing anything and it’s smut ish. i’m usually a reader and recommender but god do I love this concept

cw: phone sex, mutual masterbation, vibrator use, voyeurism. (let me know if I missed anything)

you and johnny are in a new relationship. it’s your first relationship where the guys got an actual career. he’s someone important, he can’t tell you the details just that it’s demanding and can be dangerous at times.

you embrace the long distance phone calls and rare video chats. it’s worth it because when he’s home it's unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. you know he’s military or something along those lines, the time differences and crazy schedules make it obvious.

after a few months together he opens up. tells you about the team, his cap, gaz, and of course simon. how the long hours and being away all the time gets to the team, he’s pissed none of them ever talk about it.

him having someone to come home to, it changed his mindset, he feels bad for them. it’s empathy, a bit of pity. he’s having such a good time with you, it’s not new for him to want to share the things he loves with his teammates.

the team just got settled into bed, working for almost two days straight in some random country, everyone was out as soon as they hit their pillows, deployment’s running too long. it feels like an eternity since he’s seen you, felt you. he knows he has to keep external contact as low as possible, but the thought of seeing you. it’s his forbidden fruit.

he’s a catholic, in hindsight not a great one, he kills, does unspeakable things for his job. so what’s another tally? one that he knows he deserves, because he’s been working so hard, it would be worth it.

the video call only rings twice before you pick up.

5:33 am.

he should be sorry for waking you up, but he needs you. you answer in the darkness of your room face illuminated by your phone screen. the lights are off in the barracks but you can see him in his bunk, shirtless, an arm tucked behind his head.

he looks like the product of a wet dream. one of which you’ve had too many of to be relaxed seeing him like this. he asks you what you’re wearing, tells you he needs you. he’s desperate, working long hours, going through all kinds of shitty situations. he says he’ll return the favour once he’s home. you know he will, he always does.

you don’t resist when he asks you to lift your shirt. you know he’s been working so hard, it’s the least you could do. he tells you to grab the vibrator he got you just before he left. knows how sometimes you need it quick and strong, not afraid of you liking it more than him, he knows how desperate you get while he’s gone for long periods of time.

he’s whispering praise to you, you can see the movement of his arm behind the screen. the laptop propped up on his drool worthy abs. it’s quick, the vibrator hitting in just the right spot, johnnys not the only desperate one. you haven’t seen him in months.

johnny knows he should turn his volume down. the sounds of your pleasure are bouncing off the walls of the small barracks. he just can’t help himself, too focused on your contorted face, your sounds, the quiet hum of your vibrator.

it should be embarrassing how fast he comes, but seeing you, even through a screen, it's more than he’s had, his imagination can’t compare to seeing the real thing. his grunts and heavy breathing are enough to push you over the edge. you both writhe in pleasure, thousands of miles between you too, but it’s not enough to keep you apart. you’re even more tired, a good orgasm and seeing johnny, you know he can’t stay on the line longer, but you want nothing more than to actually get a chance to talk.

he tells you he’ll be home soon, make up for him being gone longer than he said he would be. he wishes you a good night saying he's got another busy day tomorrow. you blow him a kiss goodbye, making him promise to come home safe.

“alweys dae lass”

the call ends, you set the vibrator and your phone back on your nightstand, rolling over and drifting back into dreamland.

johnny sets the laptop to his side, wondering how he’s going to clean himself up without waking everyone up. just when he’s about to say fuck it and sacrifice his boxers, a box of tissues hits his shoulder. he catches it before it hits the ground and looks to the bunk across the small room, he can see the outline of the infamous skull mask staring back at him.

“didn't know you had such a pretty bird waiting for you back home johnny”

he swears he sees simon adjusting himself beneath his blankets. but it’s dark, he hasn’t slept in almost 40 hours. it’s just his mind playing tricks on him right?

is this actually good? I like it but it’s a word vomit of my thoughts so i’m insanely biased. do I continue writing or stick to recommendations…

[spectres-n-soap]

New chapter being written :)

[applejuicebegood]

Hiiii

I just wanted to say I LOVE your writing!it's so comforting and pretty!I found your blog from the soft!Jason and my stars I am blessed to find it-

I wanted to place a request if that's okay!it's basically soap hcs with a fem!reader who has troubles showing her affection?like it's all over the place one second she is clingy and the rest she is distant.

Like she doesn't mean anything rude but she isn't used to someone genuinely liking her and not finding her annoying.

A/N: Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow thank you sm for requesting! I really do appreciate it dude!! I really hope I did your ask justice, I'm not the best at conceptualising a romantic!Johnny. Thank you so so much for requesting, again!!

The relationship was fresh - a new forward expanse in your life you wanted to hold onto as long as he would have you.

And as confusing as it was, you were starting to really love him. His horribly loud laugh and how he would lean into your touches when offered.

He never realised it but you would always eventually slink away from him in your own embarrassed anxiety. Spiralling within your own self-doubt, your mind conjuring up all of the different possibilities of how your relationship ends. Scarred that your own speculation would drive him away.

Johnny wasn't aware of any of this. He was too caught up in his excitement for your growing relationship. The slow progress of unfolding the hidden parts of you was a privilege he didn't take from granted.

He considered your sporadic displays of affection your attempts of testing his boundaries. He grew up with three sisters, he was familiar with how attitudes and actions could change dramatically within a few hours.

Obviously now it was much different, because you were someone he was falling deeply for. He wanted to keep you close, hold you in the constant strength of his arms. Keep you warm and safe and evolve his world to fit into with yours.

The fear that sprouted in his chest was worse than the fear he experienced during deployments. He was scarred that it was him that was pushing you away- it wedged into his routine and derailed his days. Something that annoyed him to now end as a military man.

But when he got the chance, he would pull you out of your distant, far-off haze, take your hands into his rough palms, and reassure you that he would never expect anything from you regarding affection. He knew exactly what it was like to be stuck in that fog of doubt and regret over speculated mistakes. For your chest to ache over a guilt only you felt.

You spent that night tucked away in his arms, crying out your anger, confusing and gratitude into the corner of his neck. The relief of having expectation lifted was the breaking of the glass walls you had constructed up around your growing love from Johnny

It was still slow and confused, but now you had Johnny's confidence in working through both his and your issues regarding affection.

Two years in, and you both had wrapped your love around the other so deeply that your atoms ached for each-other during every deployment Johnny was sent off on.

[shotmrmiller]

A/N: I simply had to join on writing for John 'just the tip' MacTavish so. Here goes. Unedited, its horny its explicit yall know the deal. It was supposed to be a drabble and i got completely carried away. got me out the writing slump tho. any mistakes please ignore. CBF!Johnny because I say so.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

WC: 1.6K

Flipping through Netflix, you hear a rapt at the door. You turn to look at your dad, who gets up quickly as if expecting someone. 

“Johnny, my boy! I’m glad you could make it! Had me thinking you forgot all about us. Come on in!” Your dad pulls Johnny in for an affectionate embrace that he returns immediately.

“Och, yer aff yer heid! As if I could ever forget my second family!” Giving your dad a final pat on the back, Johnny steps back. “Now where’s my girl?” 

Lifting the hand holding the remote, you call out. “Present!” 

Johnny almost trips over the coffee table, rushing to you. He doesn’t wait for you to stand up, just snatches your wrist and lifts you for a hug— your socked feet dangling by his shins. With his strong arms wrapped around you, he pulls you close, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Missed ye, bonnie,” he murmurs, “missed ye so much.” 

As you exhale a wheezy breath, you tell him, “I love you too, Johnny, but I can’t breathe.” One last squeeze, and a squealed “Johnny!” he finally relents, setting you down. 

Hands resting on your shoulders, his striking blue eyes lock onto your face, flicking across your features, as if he was re-memorizing what you look like. His intense gaze rushes blood to your cheeks, but don’t shrink under it. It wouldn’t be the first time your best friend teases you like this. “Somethin’ on my face, Johnny boy?” and bat your lashes at him, “I know I’m staggering to look at, but now you’re just being shameless.” 

He lets out a huff, a small smirk gracing his lips, and mumbles, “Don’t I know it.” Your taunting smile falls off your face at that. What? Before you can even ask him what he means by that, your dad calls him into the kitchen. 

“Johnny! Come get a beer, it’s about to be movie time!” Without breaking eye contact, he answers him, “Aye! Comin’!’ and with a finger tap to the underside of your chin, walks away. Heart pounding against your chest, you head towards your bedroom to get a blanket, hoping the little walk calms the butterflies in your stomach. 

What?

The movie is playing, and Johnny is curled up behind you on the reclined sofa, roughened palm resting on your thigh, occasionally squeezing it. You’re mortified at the slight arousal you’re feeling just at being caressed by Johnny. Johnny. Your best friend. Who has consistently had girlfriends, who will never look at you that way. You’ve never thought of him that way either, granted, but that’s what makes this so embarrassing. Maybe you’re ovulating, biology simply reacting in the presence of a virile male, or something. 

And then you feel the unmistakable bulge of his stiffening cock, faintly pressing against your arse. Gods. Heat radiating off of your face, you bite your lip and try to discreetly wiggle away, for his sake and yours. However, Johnny seems to disagree with your thoughts because he moves his hand from your thigh to grab your hips in a bruising grip, fingers digging into your hipbones, forcing you to be still.

He leans into your ear, warm breath tickling your cheek and softly whispers, “Dinnae move, hen,” and sluggishly starts to rock his hips, erection now firmly rubbing against your sleeping shorts. Johnny’s movements are imperceptible, nonexistent underneath your blanket. Not that it would matter, because the movie is reaching its climax, and all eyes are glued to the screen.

But your mind is solely focused on Johnny— the heat of his hands scorching against your skin, his prominent length hidden underneath his pajama bottoms grinding on you. 

“Lift yer leg a wee bit, hen.” Keeping a watchful gaze on your parents, you silently plead that they won’t notice as you hide your compliance under the guise of trying to make yourself comfortable. Once settled, you lowered your leg and had to bite your tongue with force, to keep the moan from slithering out of your throat. 

His cock, bare, right in between your thighs. Like warm velvet wrapped around steel, thick, heavy, tip pushing against your core with every minute thrust. Johnny moves even closer, arm tight around your waist, hand sliding into your bottoms, heading straight towards your soaked, swollen clit to rub feather-light delectable circles on it.

“I’m gonna stick just the tip in, a’right? I swear,” he says in a hushed tone, as he pulls back to lower the waistband of your shorts to rest on your upper thighs, “just,” he thrusts once, “the”, again, “tip.” and his leaking head slips into your hole— pushing it in until your walls flutter around it. 

“Ye feel incredible, squeeze that tight pus—” your dripping cunt cuts him off, drawing out a hiss of surprise from him. His subdued voice in your ear is so seductive, so bewitching, that you can’t help but clench around him. 

For most of the movie, Johnny languidly thrusts into you, truly keeping to his word. Just the tip— teasing you, making you drip onto the sofa, muted squishy, gooey noises coming from under your blanket, and you couldn’t be bothered by any of it. Flared, ridged head catching on your slippery lips with every drag of his cock. You’re drooling on your hand that covers your mouth beneath the snug blanket— struggling to hold back the mewls and whimpers threatening to escape. 

All of a sudden, Johnny mutters, “The movie’s about ta end, close yer eyes and keep completely still. Stabilize and deepen yer breathin’, hen.” Without hesitation, you do as he says, body going limp in compliance, the only tell-tale sign of your excitability being the rapid pulsing of your jugular on the delicate skin of your neck. 

The TV is turned off, and the living room goes completely silent, apart from the deafening sound of blood rushing in your ears. Johnny behind you feigns quiet snoring, so believable that if it wasn’t for his throbbing cock still at your entrance, you’d think he actually fell asleep.

Your dad’s poor imitation of a whisper cuts through the quiet. 

“They’re asleep, let’s just leave them here.” Footsteps shuffle as they tip-toe around you both, and as they get farther away, Johnny slowly moves his hand to cover yours, truly weighing down on it. The instant their door clicks shut, he uses his other hand to pick up your leg and throw it over your shoulder, and thrusts hard, deep, until his bollocks are flush against your arse. Your nails claw at the hand over your mouth as you scream, your gummy walls stretching against his assault— a burn so exquisite, pleasure teetering on the edge of pain, achingly delicious, it sends tendrils of ecstasy directly into your veins.

He lets out a guttural moan, one only you could hear, private, intimate. “It’s about time ye let me have this sweet pussy, hen.” One vicious thrust that punches the air from your lungs and rattles the sofa, and then another, when he finally speaks again. “Fuck, we hae ta do this when we are nae restricted, hm?” His hips start a slow rhythm, long, unhurried undulating thrusts, and every time he bottoms out, he grinds his pubic bone on your clit, the tip of his cock giving your cervix a lewd kiss. Every time he reaches the entrance of your womb, it feels like he wants to go in further, to go past the dead end, and your cock drunk mind only thinks about how you want him to do it, too. 

“Yer slobberin’ all over my hand, hen. S’that good, is it? Oooh, I ken it is. Only the best fer my girl, hm?” He hisses through clenched teeth, “I’m fuckin’ close. Come f’me. I’m not comin’ until ye cover my cock with yer cream, leave a white ring at the base.” His hips have been moving at the same exact speed he started at, not a stutter in his pattern. As if him fucking you into a puddle of arousal wasn’t taxing on his part. 

Then he does something different, something that threatens to snap that coil in your lower tummy, and along with it your sanity. He starts giving shallow thrusts, never pulling out more than halfway, and makes sure to rub against your clit, giving you that heavenly friction you need. It has you delirious, fervent, and you start moving your own hips, uncaring of how you must look.

Johnny moves his thumb down to your nub, drawing tight, precise, merciless circles on it, and you are thrown over the edge— more like kicked off by a spartan kick from how gut-wrenching your orgasm is ripped from you. Your pleasure is so acute, so powerful that there are needle-like pricks on the shell of your ears. Your body shakes underneath Johnny, pussy throbbing and pulsing with the aftershocks of your blinding climax. 

Drool escapes under Johnny’s palm, dripping down your cheeks and into your hair as you fall back, going completely limp, utterly spent. Finally getting back some coherency, you realize that Johnny’s gone soft inside of you, also drained, as he catches his breath holding himself over you. He removes his hand, uncaring that it’s sticky with your spit, and noses your cheekbone, nudging you to slant his lips over yours, curling his tongue against yours. He swallows the pathetic mewl you let out and presses one final kiss onto your lips. 

“I’ve missed ye, hen. I’m so happy to be here, with ye. Let’s move to your bedroom, and in 10 minutes, I’ll give ye a proper fuckin’.” 

Your eyes close shut as you let out a resigned but elated sigh. 

“I love you too, Johnny.” 

@rookiesbookies and forgive the tag but i had you in mind too @brewed-pangolin ill never do it again unprompted

part 2

[bunnys-kisses]

vegetable patch (pt.2)

hybrid!simon 'ghost' riley & hybrid!john 'soap' mactavish

cw: hybrid!au, guard dog!simon, guard dog!john, bunny!reader, pregnancy/breeding, oral sex (femme & masc receiving), threesome, outdoor sex, cum eating (brief), exhibitionism

bunny says: there might be a part 3 (if you play your cards right)

read pt. 1

being the bunny on the farm was… different. farmer price only had guard dogs, but he never had a bunny. especially a pregnant bunny. he did the awkward task of making you take a pregnancy test after simon bred you amongst the lettuce.  which involved simon squishing on your middle until you peed on the test. it was embarrassing, but it got the results the farmer needed. 

you were pregnant with puppies. or bunnies. or puppy-bunnies. farmer price wasn't too sure. he never EXPECTED to look into how hybrids breed when he bought two MALE dogs. it was just one of them got into a wild bunny. but price was a bleeding heart and couldn't send you back into the woods. you'd be too vulnerable. so as your belly got a bit of baby fat, he made sure you were taken care of. 

but you were still a wild animal.

  “hey, hey! bunny relax!” farmer price had you in his arms as you kicked at john. you had a scowl on your face at the other guard dog, soap as he was called. price held you in his arms so you'd stop kicking his other dog in the face. he practically held you with your arms above your head and slightly above the ground, “relax, baby girl. relax. soap's not gonna hurt ya.”

you frowned, “i want simon.” you struggled against the farmer. 

price sighed, “then stop kickin', put your legs down, sweetheart. you're too pregnant to be doin' this.” he hushed you and then slowly put you down once you were relaxed enough to not cause problems. you sat on the ground, your ears close to your head. or as price called them ‘airplane ears’.

john came closer and you furrowed your brow, he reached out for you and petted your face. you winced, you had to protect your children. you didn't need another mutt invading your pussy. he let out a small noise as he got closer to you. you whined and price sighed. 

  “alright.” the farmer said, “i'll see what simon is doing.” he left you alone with the other guard out the back door. 

you and john looked at one another. his blue eyes seemed to gaze through you to your very soul. his ears were flat against his head as he sat down across from you. he licked his lips, “why won't you let me fuck you?”

you frowned, “i'm not a whore.”

he chuckled, “well you whoring yourself out let you into my home. i know simon adores you, but i have my eye on you bunny.” he got a little closer, “i want to know what makes you so special.” you held your gaze with him. he smirked, “simon liked something about you and i want to know what he liked about you. bunnies give it away for free so, why are you hiding?” 

you whimpered and before john could do anything, simon was hauled back into the house. the large guard dog saw how close you were with john and instantly was to your side. he threw an arm over you as he gazed at his pack brother, “what are ya lookin' at?”

the farmer looked at the three of you. two guard dogs, and a pregnant bunny. quite a mix. he sighed and walked away, he had a farm to tend to. he couldn't deal with the affairs of his hybrids, he'd go even more grey if he thought about it too hard.

  “she carryin' my pups, johnny. why are ya sniffin' around?” simon asked. 

john smiled, “you never wanted a mate, but here you are with this little bunny.” he tilted his head to the side, “i want to know what makes her so… enticing."  

simon got closer to his pack brother and looked in his eyes, “i got a bunny pregnant, i ain't abandoning her.”

john got close into simon's personal space, “then let me have a taste. as your pack brother, through thick and thin.” he licked his lips, “we won't be sharin' pups anyway.” he looked to you, “will the bunny give me a taste?”

you frowned, "shut up, john." you stuck your tongue out at the other man and simon pulled you close. he tucked your head into his chest, you held onto the t-shirt he wore. you noticeably relaxed.

"i don't think you'd know how to even fuck a bunny." simon said as he looked down at you then to his pack brother.

john narrowed his eyes, "i know a fair bit, you don't know what i was up to before i ended up here."

simon lifted your chin, "maybe we have to do a little bondin' or else price is goin' have our heads."

you looked up at your mate, "and if he gets too aggressive."

"then his throat will go between my incisors."

your ears twitched a little at the sound of john's laugh as he got closer. he reached out for you. soon you were in both men's arms. your belly kept you from being too close to simon but your plump ass was right up against john's cock.

"what do you say, bunny?"

you looked to both men and sighed, "you're lucky my hormones are out of wack, soap." you made a noise as you were pulled into john's arms.

he rested his chin on your shoulder and smiled at simon, "maybe if i'm lucky, the next pups will be mine." but his ears when back and he stepped off when simon got closer.

"in your dreams, johnny."

price had a thing about the hybrids of the house having sex in common areas. he had already caught you and simon giving each other pleasure over the kitchen island. he has seen more than enough of your pregnant belly. he didn't need to see anymore.

the farmer had promised himself that after you had simon's pups then he'd get you one some kind of birth control. he didn't need more hybrids in the house. it was bad enough you were pregnant with another one.

he had left for the day to go into town to go to the store and do other affairs. which left you and the two guard dogs alone. this was when your plan went into action.

on the warm porch you were rested up against simon, the man's strong arms held you close and john was between your legs. ears flat to his head as he lapped at your cunt like the dog he was.

you whimpered, it was hard to see him over the slope of your belly, but you could feel his ears and head up against your taunt skin. your pups shifted in your belly and you held onto your lover.

"you're not too bad, johnny."

"i told ya i knew what i was doin'. you just didn't trust me, didn't ya?" john chuckled as he held your thighs open, his blunt nails dug into the muscle of your thighs. the skin was soft and he found it so alluring.

he had no idea someone like you was living in those woods. part of him wished that he was patrolling the farm that day. then maybe you'd be having his pups. but hey, there was always next time.

you squirmed a little and simon held you firmly. he said in your ear, "careful now." then looked back to his pack brother and added, "you can go a little faster, bunnies fuck quick to avoid predators."

you frowned and kicked your legs out a little as you felt his licks become quickly. you let go of your lover and grabbed his hair. you made an 'eep' noise and closed your legs around his head.

the softness of your skin around his head almost made him cum in his shorts. soon his hands were on your large belly. he said something but was muffled. his hands roamed the skin and you felt pleasure flutter in your stomach.

simon held you down on the porch and pulled his cock out of his sweat shorts. he tilted your head back so he could have easy access to your throat. soon you were giving pleasure to simon while john was pleasuring you.

three hybrids on the porch on a summer's day fucking the way their nature intended. your moaned loudly but was muffled by simon's cock in your mouth. you held onto your belly over top of john's hands.

your eyes went wide when you heard a yapping from the fence. the three of you looked over, simon's cock still in your mouth. you all saw a coyote hybrid with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

both guard dogs got closer to you, folding you into yourself, which was made hard by the bump. simon kept eye contact with the man and hunched over you while he held onto your jaw.

if your hunches were right, you knew that coyote. the knowledge made a flash of embarrassment flow through you, but you couldn't wiggle out of their grasp. you made a sharp noise as you felt john's tongue graze across your clit.

he chuckled and simon pushed his cock further into your mouth. you were a whorish display for phillip graves. you looked away but simon turned your head to face the coyote. the guard dogs were showing that they had staked claim on your little bunny pussy.

and you hated you kind of liked it.

graves made a face before he turned around and headed back into the woods. he wasn't going after the chickens today.

john pulled away from your thighs and looked up at you and simon. he beamed, "i don't think that fuckin' dog is comin' back." he sat up on his knees and leaned back on his heels. he wiped the wetness from his face, "good thing too."

simon was continuing to rock his cock and out of you, his grip had loosened on your jaw. he looked to his pack brother and said, "yeah, hate to scare the bunny."

john chuckled and patted your swollen middle, "still mad at me, bonnie?"

you looked at him and tried to shake your head in a no, but it hard to with your lover's cock in your throat. your eyes did go wide however when john pulled his cock out of his threadbare shorts and rubbed it up against your soaked cunt.

soon you were being fucked by both men from two different angles. simon was in your throat while john was in your cervix. you were caught between them.

"how ya feelin' mama." simon asked as he looked down at you. those dark eyes gazed into yours.

you reached for his arms and held onto them as you gazed up at him as you took his cock out of your mouth, "never been better." then gave him a smile. your nipples were hard in the afternoon air as you were rocked back and forth between both men.

simon slipped his cock back into your mouth and continued to seek pleasure from your mouth. the sex wasn't what you expected from two guard dogs, you expected it to like you first time with simon.

but both were gentle as they could be. it made your heart swell a little. it was endearing that they were treating you so nicely, even if their large cocks seemed like they were meeting in your intestines.

you felt the pleasure come over you, your heightened hormones made orgasm come quickly. made john wasn't a bad fuck after all. simon could be possessive, but mostly towards those outside the house. he seemed to be fine with john fucking you.

you moaned around your lover's cock as you felt drunk off the intense feeling. it wasn't long before you kicked out your legs and you tightened around both men's cocks. you tensed up before you relaxed with a loud moan.

simon held your face while john held your hips. both men started to move a little faster, they were going to climax as well. they both looked at one another with pleasure in their eyes. simon gave a curt nod and john gave a more enthusiastic one in return.

you looked like a dream, a pregnant little bunny allowing herself to be fucked on the porch of her new home. the men wondered if any other hybrids would come by before they finished.

but their wish wasn't fulfilled because both men soon pulled with and stroked their cocks over your naked, pregnant body. within moments of one another, both men came all over your body.

you whimpered at the feeling of their hot seed across your face and belly. john even chuckled and picked up some of it off your chest and fed it to you.

"dirty bunny." he snickered.

"be nice, johnny. or you're not gettin' her again."

john exhaled contently, "i get why you got to keep her." he looked at your wet pussy and then back at simon, "i guess bunnies fuck better."

"yeah get 'em pregnant and they'll stay out of the garden."

john started to stroke his cock to get it hard once more. he spoke like you weren't even in front of him. he said to simon, "you take her pussy and i'll take her throat?"

simon took a quick look at you before he looked back to john, "sounds like a plan." he then looked back at you, "hands and knees, doll. i want to see that cottontail shake." <3

xoxo, bunny

[waves-against-a-cliff]

The thing you did that made the 141 men think 'Im gonna marry them'

Content Warnings - Fluff. Sexual themes but no smut.

Gaz - It's cliche really. But he loves it when his partner can eat. Maybe not all the time, not all types of food. Maybe it's literally one specific thing you can eat pounds of. Whatever it is, he had taken you to a buffet and watched with hearts in his eyes as you devoured it. Not in a feederist kind of way but in a... Breeding sort of way. Doesn't matter if you lack the actual parts, can't get pregnant due to birth control or other outside forces. He thinks to himself, "I'm gonna marry them." Doesn't even realize hes thought it until he hears it in his head.

Price - He saw you rush across a busy street (he nearly had a heart attack) and stop traffic because you saw a pair of turtles trying to cross the street. Carefully you picked them up and placed them to where they were heading to. You even waved and said goodbye to them. Your kindness made him smile and chuckle. He realized then he wanted to marry you.

Soap - You were playing with his nieces and nephews at a family party. Chasing them around and playing their games. Laughing and sneaking some more dessert. He loves seeing you with kids, his eyes are on you all night and he thinks, "I'm gonna marry them."

Ghost - He took you axe throwing. He didn't expect you to be this good at it. The way it seemed so natural to you and how the axe embedded itself into the wall. You smiled up at him, a feral gleam in your eyes. He hands you another axe just to watch the way your arm muscles tense and to see the same look on your face when it hits its target. Spare strands of your hair stick to your slightly sweaty face and you comment about how much you like this. As he watches you wrench the axe from its spot, he can only think of how badly he wants to marry you.

[ivyjupiterwrites]

[longing-for-the-past-times]

masterlist roommate!simon

Roommate!Soap who leaves his shirts and hoodies scattered around the flat, patiently waiting for the day he’ll see you wearing them

At first, it's just a hoodie messily thrown on his usual seat in the kitchen and you pay it no mind, being just careful not to spill anything on it. Next is a t-shirt, strategically placed on the arm of the couch, almost as if he left it there by accident. Shaking your head and muttering something about boys and their habits, you gently fold it and place it back, unaware of the man standing in the door and watching you

"Thanks for that- must have missed it when doing laundry!"

"Aren't you military men supposed to be all neat and tidy and such?", you mock him with an amused smirk on your face. He rolls his eyes in reply, too busy trying to contain the hot blush that was threathening to spread across his face: any other person he knew would have thrown his t-shirt on the ground instead of bothering to fold it and treat it with such care.

Roommate!Soap who, after you start doing laundry together, accidentally mixes his clothes with yours, sneaking a sweater or a shirt in your pile of freshly-washed sweatshirts. He secretly wishes one day you'll fail to return them, but he's already grown used to the neatly stacked pile of his belongings that you would place on his side of the couch (you wouldn't enter his bedroom)

Roommate!Soap who starts to believe his plans are turning into a success when, one day, the black hoodie he sneaked in your laundry, is still missing from his side of the couch. Trying to ignore the giddy feeling inside his chest, he begins to think of ways to tease you about it, but he closes his mouth as quickly as he opens it, the moment you show up into the living room, promptly planting the hoodie into his arms

"I'm actually glad none of my clothes have slipped in your laundry yet", you joke with him, blind to his resigned expression. "Can't imagine how embarrased I would be if you had to deal with my nightwear!"

He wouldn't mind it, not at all.

But he ends up shrugging his shoulders and cracking a joke about what kind of nightwear you own. The black hoodie never felt heavier in his arms.

Roommate!Soap who comes home from a mission in the middle of the night and can't stop a wide smile from spreading on his face. He actually has to take a moment to process the fact that there you were, passed out on the couch, wearing his black hoodie.

Roommate!Soap who instantly takes out his phone and tries to take a selfie with your sleeping figure, his beaming figure glowing with happiness. His huffed chuckles wake you up and you hide your face in your hands when you realise he knows you're wearing his clothes.

"It's just- you left it on the couch and it got cold and-"

"No need to explain yourself, bonnie. It just took ye a while to get the message."

[sprout-fics]

Danger Close

(Captain John Soap MacTavish x F! Reader)

Call of Duty Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+) Minors DNI Wordcount: 3.8k Tags: Power imbalances, Unrequited pining, Shy Reader, Stuck in a lift, Dry humping, Dirty talk, Seduction, Praise kink, Vaginal fingering, Secret affair, Pet names Warnings: None (ask to tag) A/N: This is a quick little idea of the OG himself. I'll probably do more headcanon based ideas soon, but for now enjoy the filth

The thing about Captain MacTavish is that he’s…intimidating.

The self proclaimed red-blooded Scot is built like a brick shithouse, as one of your fellow officers once put it. Ruggedly handsome, strong, thick with muscle with coarse hair over his arms and stubble along his jaw. There’s a scar over one of his eyes, a slashing wound that should have blinded him. It crinkles slightly when he offers a lopsided smirk that taunts danger, that bares a reckless nature he hasn’t fully shed despite his years of experience. You tell your bunkmate that he’d make very good money as a bouncer at a nightclub, and her laughter nearly wakes up the whole hallway.

Intimidating.

Which is not necessarily the right word, you think. The Captain has a way around his men and fellow officers, an easy likeability that’s hard to ignore. He commands respect from his troops not in the way of brute posturing or snarling demands, but in the display of capability that has saved their lives many times over. He’s the firm touch on their shoulder as they check their gear before deployment, the firm reminder of level headedness over comms, the sharp, ringing command that cuts through gunfire when everything else has gone wrong.

The man exudes leadership, and you are among those helplessly drawn to it.

Yet there’s something closed off there that you can see in his eyes, an untold story that has drawn the lines of age in the corner of his steely gaze. It feels as if there’s an invisible barrier around him that prevents others from getting danger close. Magnetic, it pulls you in despite yourself, an inextricable attraction towards the nick of a blade you long to taste. Dangerous, like a moth to flame.

Not that you’ll ever do anything about it of course. As much as you daydream about the time you saw the captain’s broad back shiny with sweat on the sparring mats as he trained the other recruits, the low lilt of his accent that clouds your thoughts, you know it’s a terrible idea to develop a crush on your superior.

It’s hard not to, not when you deliver him his daily intelligence report in the afternoon, and he always makes sure to look up and greet you as you hand over the folder, smiling and offering: “Thank you, lass.”

Traitorous, you think, how your stomach devolves into butterflies just at the sight of his pleasant grin. 

Worse is the fact that despite his gruff exterior the man is always such a gentleman to you. He gives you his full attention when you speak, ensures his other male officers do not interrupt or speak over you, holds open doors when you walk into the meeting room together, ensures his men don’t harass you just for your status of being a woman. You think it’d be easier if he was just as pompous and arrogant as his fellow officers, but instead Captain MacTavish has the ability to make you feel special, like you’re the only other one in the room with him. 

It makes you feel a little guilty, admittedly- that he’s kind and decent and you constantly think about what it would be like to bend the rules so he can bend you over his desk. 

Caught in fantasy as you are, you don’t notice the way his eyes watch you out of the corner of his eye, take note of you stretching on your toes to reach something in a filing cabinet, the way your brow scrunches in thought as you scrutinize his paperwork, the slight tremble of your hand when you pass him a cup of coffee in the mess hall, the duck of your head when he offers an amicable thanks. 

You don’t notice the way he’s thinking anything but decent thoughts about you.

It’s hard to help. You’re a sweet, shy thing, and Soap is a man not immune to the charm of your bashful nature. He enjoys your wide eyed gaze as he selfishly sneaks gentle touches, a hand on your shoulder as he scoots past you in a crowded hallway, letting his fingers linger a little too long when you pass him a stack of files for him to sign off on, the barest little hitch of breathing he hears when he lets his voice dip an octave as he speaks.

“Thank ye, bonnie.” He tells you this afternoon, and relishes the way you repress a shiver at the endearment. 

Later, when he catches you at your desk gazing dreamily into space, he enjoys the glassy tint of your eyes, and imagines you’re thinking of him.

And, secretly, he thinks what it would be like to have you mewling and trembling under his war-worn hands. 

For all his decency and charisma, there is one thing you don’t know about the captain, and that is that he’s a wolf.

And you, you’re an adorable bunny waiting for the killing bite of his seduction.

Yet shy as you are, never to act on this, Captain MacTavish decides to take things into his own hands. 

He has you move your desk to his office, helping him with his own paperwork, and offers to buy you lunch on the basis of being a good boss, a good superior. He ensures you have everything you need for your space and helps you pick out a better desk chair when you complain about the standard base ones hurting your back.

And if he uses his rank to ensure your colleagues and higher ups don’t complain? Well. That’s his business.

“Good lass.” He tells you in passing when you find a piece of intelligence he requested, offering a small squeeze of your shoulder and feeling you stiffen under him before exhaling unsteadily- unaware of his smug grin just behind your shoulder. 

Cute, the way you think he won’t notice your little reactions, your dreamy eyes and the fantasies hidden behind them. 

In all places, it comes to a head in a stuck lift.

The meeting is in fifteen minutes, and you insist on taking the lift because of the obstacle course drills you were put through yesterday, whining about your aching thighs. Soap, the good captain that he is, acquiesces and allows it, crossing his arms and watching the doors close-

Only for the lift to give a groan and shudder to a stop.

“Bloody old building.” He gripes, giving the doors a small kick in grumbling protest. “Told maintenance these things needed to be repaired months ago.”

He’s not concerned. Worse comes to worse, he’s crawled up through elevator shafts before. Besides, it’s not as if you’re on the eighth floor, merely stuck between the first and second. It’s an inconvenience, but not an inescapable or deadly one. He’s not as young as he once was, but this shouldn’t be too beyond him.

You, on the other hand, press the call button frantically, trying to ask for help and rescue. The operator is quick to tell you that mechanics and the fire brigade are on the way, and tells you to stay calm. 

“How long are we going to be stuck in here?” You ask Soap, fidgeting. A nervous little filly, he thinks, as he eyes you with mild amusement.

“Maybe an hour.” He drawls, watching as your eyes go wide.

“We’ll miss the briefing.” You manage, a little choked, as if that is the gravest of your concerns, and not the thoughts Soap has about taking full advantage of the privacy he has with you.

“Aye.” He replies with a snort. “Shame, that.”

You make a little sound at that, something between petulance and despair, slumping into the wall as your face crumples.

“Hey, easy.” Soap offers, voice gentler now as he approaches you, gloved hands easily balancing you by your elbows across the wall. “It’s alright lass. We’ll be free in no time. Take a breath for me, aye?”

You nod at that, eyes turned towards the ground to avoid his gaze as you suck in a deep breath, hold it, and then let it out slowly.

“Good girl.” He purrs, unable to help himself, and relishes the way your eyes dart up to his, pupils blown wide as you realize for the first time just how close he is.

This is dangerous.

He’s got you crowded into the wall of the lift, all but blocking escape with his brawny frame. The shadow of his figure falls over your smaller form, dwarfing you. His hands cup you by your arms, bare fingers skimming along your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps rising in their wake. Your captain’s expression is calm, but even with the overhead light backlighting his face, you can see the intent, the scarcely concealed fixation there hidden beneath kind eyes and whispered only though a knowing smirk. 

Prey in a snare.

“S-sir-” You manage, voice tight as you finally realize the true nature of his intent with the way he hums a low, deep note in his chest that makes you shiver.

“Thought I wouldnae ken you watching me, bonnie?” He asks in a low, rumbling intonation that vibrates at the base of your skull. “Sneaking looks and off with the faeries everytime I called you a good girl?”

“I-” You try, and it’s a useless effort really. You could summon a thousand excuses, but you know none of them would work on him. Captain Mactavish’s eyes are too keen, too knowing for that. If he’s seen this much, if he’s seen the way you daydream while he doesn’t look, the way you try desperately to quell your infatuation with him, then there’s no use trying to pretend otherwise. 

"You like being called a good soldier? A good lass?” He goes on, and you bite down hard on a whimper of want that threatens to bubble up your throat. Your captain’s thumbs stroke the inside of your elbow gently, pressing down on the divot of sensitive skin and loosing an unsteady breath from your chest. 

“Look at you wobbling like a wee fawn.” He purrs in that low lilt of his. “This isn't because of me, is it? Developing feelings for your superior. Tut tut. Naughty thing."

“Captain-” Your voice is a strangled thing in your throat, choked by the cognitive dissonance of this, of something straight out of your wildest fantasies, a secret you keep to yourself in the dark of your bunk with your fingers buried between your thighs.

John hums, allowing his eyes to roam down your form, gently caged into the wall as you are, eyes glimmering with a hunger you didn’t know he possessed- A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Tell me to stop.” He murmurs then, voice serious. “I won’t touch you. I’ll transfer you if that’s what you want.”

“No.” Your answer comes so quickly it surprises even you, and suddenly your fingers are gripping on the inside of his forearms as if trying to keep him from retreating. “...Please.”

He gives you a moment, then another to reconsider, to retract your agreement and shove him off you. When you don’t, your captain grins.

“Shy little bonnie.” He croons. “Didnae have the words to ask for what you wanted from your superior, did you?”

You shudder when his gloved palm cups your cheek, leaning instinctively into it, sweet and willing. His thumb presses down on the plush bed of your bottom lip, and it takes a moment of courage to part your lips, lean forward so it rests on your tongue instead.

The sound your captain makes is carnivorous.

Hungry, wanting, dark as sin as he watches you engulf the digit and make eye contact with him, as if tempting danger. He tastes like the steel like of a sharp blade, cutting through your senses and leaving crimson want dripping against your thoughts. 

He removes his thumb so a drip of spit trails after it, and before it can spill your captain bends and kisses you.

It’s dizzying, all consuming, all open lips as he groans into you, one arm snaking around to the small of you back to balance you on wobbly legs, the other gripping your chin and directing you exactly how he wants you, tilting your head just so he can kiss you deeper. You feel unbalanced by the sheer force of it, leaving little choice but to clutch at his uniform, go a little limp in his arms and mewling into his open mouth.

“Aye, that’s it.” He groans between wet, sloppy kisses, dragging his teeth over your bottom lip and feeling you press back into him, eager for more. “Fuckin beautiful, hen.”

His warm breath spills against your open throat, where you think he might bestow a killing bite if you’d let him, groaning in appreciation at the raw, heady taste of you as he takes everything you can bear to give him. 

“Sir-” You whine when he wedges a knee between your legs, hands planted firmly on your ass so he drags your clothed cunt over the rise of his thick thigh. “Oh God-”

“No God here, love.” He huffs as your head flops gently to the side, his words fanning across the shell of your ear so you shudder. “Just you an’ me.”

That might be for the best, you think. One less witness to the act of your captain defiling you the way you’ve dreamt of for longer than you care to remember. 

Your captain’s hands grasp the fat of your ass as you give an experimental rock onto his thigh, stifling a little whimper as you do. It only makes him chuckle, dark and hungry into your ear as he nibbles on the sensitive skin  beneath your jaw. 

“C’mon lass, you can do better than that.” He huffs, and you feel him smile against your neck. “Go on, take what you need. Wanna feel you get off just from grinding on my leg like this.”

You’re not sure if you can, honestly, but gods above do you want to try. 

You grab at his neck for support, pressing him further as he bows over you, engulfs you with the heat of his frame. Then you allow your knees to fold, letting him support the weight of you as you begin to drag yourself along his thigh.

The friction is delicious, sends your nerve endings alight with sensation as the pleasure of it spills past your lips with an open groan. You wonder if the mere act of this, of humping your superior’s leg like a cat in heat while he purrs praises into your ear, does more for you than the actual motion itself. Either way, you begin to feel a warmth unfurling in your core, cunt clenching down on a needing emptiness that has you bury a whimper into his shoulder. 

“Thaaat’s it.” MacTavish- John, you wonder if he’ll let you call him, croons in your ear. “Lemme hear all those pretty noises, hen.”

You do, realizing there’s no one else to hear you. You give in, allow him to hear every hitch in your chest, every shuddering gasp and breathless plea of “S-sir-”

“Feel good?” He asks, hands kneading the swell of your ass as he helps rock you along his thigh. “Just imagine bonnie, could have had this weeks ago if you’d only let me.”

He’s right. If you’d only said something to him, had made a move on him, then you could have been having his low, Scottish lilt purr right in your ear as you try to get off ages ago.

But this is good too.

“Cannae even imagine how much it took for me not to pounce on you.” He huffs, pressing fluttering kisses against the thrum of your pulse. “All those sweet little looks you thought I couldn’t see, the way you were mooning over me like I wouldnae notice-”

“That’s- that’s not-” You try, managing to sound a little indigent despite your heaving breaths. 

“Oh I know, bonnie.” He croons with a huff of laughter. “You were just trying to be a good soldier, didn’t want to get caught seducing your superior, aye? What would the other officers think?”

You whimper at that, clutching a little tighter if only out of a remnant pulse of shame. Yet John doesn’t let you stop, drags you more insistently over the bulge of his thigh straining through his pants. 

“They don’t get to know.” He tells you, smirking. “They don’t get to know how sweet ye are like this, how pretty you look trying to come all over my leg, aye bonnie?”

You feel it rising inside you, feel your oncoming climax mount with every low rumble of words against your skin, with the way his scent clouds your senses so there’s nothing else but the sensation of him, the pleasure of you grinding your wet, empty cunt against his leg.

“C’mon, little one. Can feel you trying. What’dye need?” He huffs, and you shake your head into his shoulder. 

“Empty.” You tell him in a little, shy whisper, face burning as you refuse to look him in the eyes. Yet a hand catches your cheeks, turns you up to his gaze so you have no choice but to look into his bright, glimmering stare. 

“What was that?” He asks, and Gods, you think he may eat you alive. “Need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“E-empty.” You tell him a little louder, catching sight of the glassy eyed stare reflected in his eyes, feeling your legs shake with the effort of trying to hold your own weight. 

“Oh poor wee lass.” John sighs, bending down to kiss you again, swallowing the little whimper that bubbles up your throat. “Dinnae fash, I’ll take care of you.”

He pulls away so quickly you nearly drop to the floor, were it not for the hand slung across your hip that keeps you upright. You hear the clink of a belt, and for a single hopeful moment you think maybe it’s his, only to groan in disappointment and need as he squirms his hand past your own waistband, slinking his fingers between your folds. 

“Christ almighty, lass, you’re soaking wet.” He breathes, bracing his forehead against yours so you feel his warm huff of air on your swollen lips. “Just from this?”

Yeah. This. You want to tell him. As if ‘this’ isn’t something straight out of your wildest wet dreams, him easily handling you in close quarters, treating you with greedy hands and yet touching you as if you’re something prized, a beautiful weapon he’s admired from afar for far too long. 

When he sinks a finger into you John groans a deep, resounding noise in his chest, open and appreciating the way your slick heat instantly clenches around his fingers. 

“Fuck, the feel of you, hen.” He breathes as he pumps his fingers with deliberate slowness, as you whimper and writhe and try to force yourself down onto his hand to chase your just out of reach climax. “So warm and tight, cannae even imagine how you’d feel around my cock.”

“Please.” You gasp desperately, body flushed with want as you grind against his fingers, seeking to angle them just right. “Captain.”

The sound John makes is primal, and you’re given little warning before suddenly he’s plunging a second finger into you, giving you only a moment to adjust to the stretch before he’s setting a rapid pace that has you wail into his chest. 

“Is alright lass, I got you. C’mon, wanna feel you cum all over my hand.” He growls, panting, entire body coiled tight as he pushes you further towards your climax. “I’ll fuck you proper after, promise. Just need to feel it when you come, wanna hear how pretty you sound, c’mon-”

It’s that thought, the one of him having you right here in the lift, bending you against the wall and fucking you just like this that makes you arch with a broken little shout, clenching down hard on his fingers as he slowly works you through it, murmuring sweet endearments down at you as you tremble. You feel your walls pulse around his thick digits, coating them in slick and you realize too late he never took his glove off.

You nearly buckle as the last pulse of pleasure pulses bright and powerful through you, clutching at him with a little whimper as you come down slowly. You’re warm all over, muscles flooded with a bright release that has you wobble where you stand. The pulse of your heartbeat echoes in your ears and you try desperately to catch your breath amidst it all. 

And, naturally, that’s the moment when the lift starts moving again.

You almost entirely lose your balance when the floor beneath you jolts, squeaking as you lean fully into your captain. He doesn’t seem to be caught off guard at all. If anything, John seems amused at the sudden motion of the elevator, huffing a warm sound of disbelief up towards the ceiling. 

“Think we’ll still be late for that meeting, bonnie?” He asks, grinning mischievously, as if he didn’t just make you come so hard your knees wobble.

“No sir.” You breathe, leaning back against the wall as he pulls his hand from your pants, leaning up and licking his fingers free of your wetness. 

“Fuck.” You breathe helplessly, head flopping back. “You’re glove-”

He hums, as if just now realizing you stained the palm of his fingerless glove, pulling the velcro strap with his teeth as one hand balances you while you regain your strength. 

“Keep it safe for me.” He tells you, jamming it into your front pocket as the lift whines to a halt. “Give it back to me later. After the meeting.”

After can mean a lot of things, you realize.

The lift dings pleasantly, and your captain hauls a brawny arm to keep the door open for you, ever the gentleman. 

“Go on then lass,” He smiles, friendly and easygoing despite the knowing, hungry glimmer in his gaze. “Tell them I’ll be a few. Have to give the mechanics a talkin to.”

You nod, still a little shell shocked, a little disheveled, blinking dazedly as you scoot past him, then pause. 

Checking the hallway, you twirl around and lean up to kiss him so you hear the little breath of surprise against your lips. 

“After, captain?” You ask sweetly, blinking your lashes up at him and watching his pupils blow wide. 

“After.” He declares, voice just as sultry, leaning down to nip teasingly in front of your face, fangs and all. 

You sway off to the meeting, sneak into the back row and explain the hold up, and nobody looks at you twice, shy as you are. When your captain comes in five minutes later, only you notice the way he struts to the front of the room, smirking wide and assured as he briefs his men on their next target. 

“Weapons hot, lads.” He declares, arms crossed, a smile taunting danger. “We’re danger close.”

[cmncisspnandmore]

Imagine being in a relationship with Dad!Simon and Dad!Johnny.

“Sweetheart?” Soap calls from upstairs, his voice echoing down the stairs.

“Love?” A second voice calls.

You put your finger to your lips. Shushing the small children in front of you. One standing in an emptied tactical vest. Her bright blue eyes looking back at you as she covers her mouth with her hands to quiet her giggles.

The other sitting on the floor, a skull balaclava over his head, but his whole face still visible due to the large size. His bleach blonde hair sticking out, and falling into his deep brown eyes. His own gummy smile matching his older sisters.

“Yes?” You call back, trying to hide the smile that creeps into your voice as your son reaches for you. His chubby toddler hand grabbing at the two sets of dog tags around your neck.

“Have you seen my vest?” Johnny calls.

“Or my balaclava? I swore I left it on the dresser..” Simon’s own voice calls. There’s soft murmuring at the top of the stairs as your husbands talk amongst themselves trying to figure out where their missing gear could be.

“Nope, haven’t seen them. Maybe they’re in the kitchen? I did do laundry the other day, maybe they got put in the basket.” You suggest, as your daughter giggles wildly into her hands. She knows her dads will have to pass through the living room where the three of you are sitting.

Two pairs of boots thud down the stairs as your husbands make their way through the house. Not even bothering to question you. As Soap and Ghost round the bottom of the stairs they pause. Smiles breaking out on their faces as they take in the scene in front of them.

You’re sitting on the floor cross legged, your back to them as your children peek around you. Your daughter losing her battle of containing her giggles. Your son clapping wildly as he sees his dads.

Your son is the first to move, his little arms and legs moving as fast as he can as he crawls across the floor to grab at the laces on Soaps boots. A babbling of ‘dada, dada,’ and baby screeching follows him.

Johnny reaches down and plucks the small child up off the floor, a huge smile on his face as he tickles him. “LT! Did you fall in the fountain of youth again?” Soap laughs, as the toddler laughs and screeches.

“I didn’t realize you liked sparkly pink nail varnish,” Simon grunts as your daughter laughs, pushing past you to stand in front of Simon.

“Daddy! Look I’m Dada!” She smiles, as Simon crouches down to her level.

“I see that Lovie,” he smiles, reaching out and poking her nose.

“And Brother is you!” She points to her brother, and looks up at Soap. “See Dada! It almost fits me!”

Soap sets your son down on the ground, also crouching to her level, “aye lass, soon you can go to work for me yeah? I can stay home with Mummy.”

“Mummy said one day I can be superhero’s just like you and Daddy,” she states proudly, as Soap reaches out to unclip the vest. Your son crawls over and starts tug at the mask on his head.

“Maybe one day, Lovie,” Simon mumbles as he pulls the mask off your son’s head, and presses a kiss to the blonde toddlers head.

“Here,” Soap says and he pulls the vest off your daughter, “Daddy and I have to go to work, okay?”

Your daughter face falls, “but you just got home..” she mumbles.

“I know baby, it’s just for a few days,” Johnny frowns, pulling the small girl into his arms and hugging her tight.

Simon stands, your son in his arms as he walks over to you and offers you a hand. You smile, putting your hand in his as he pulls you gently to your feet. “Looked like you needed some help,” Simon smiles. His hand sliding down to rest on the round bump of your stomach.

“Well if you two didn’t make such huge children maybe I would be able to get up off the floor,” you scold, a playful smile on your lips.

“Sorry Love, but I can’t help it. There’s just something about you carrying our children that makes us wild,” Simon whispers in your ear as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

You wave him off, as you watch Soap talk softly to your daughter who is doing her best to hold back her tears. She hates when they leave, and now that she’s older, the passage of time is a bigger deal to her. She knows that sometimes the few day trips turn into weeks and she hates it. For the most part she was a good sport about it. She would draw endless pictures and take videos for Simon and Johnny. But after Johnny got hurt on a mission, a gunshot wound to the shoulder she’s been more anxious about their leaving.

“Lovie,” Simon calls, as you take your son from him. The toddler settling into your arms, his hands grabbing the dog tags to stick into his mouth. Your daughter turns around. Blue eyes filled with tears, as she walks over slowly, her head slightly down.

Soap gives you a sad look as he walks over, and kisses your cheek. His hand following the same path that Simon’s took as he softly strokes your stomach. Simon leans down, eye level with your daughter as he talks to her.

“I know you’re scared that something bad is gonna happen to Dada, or me. But I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to him okay? Just like he’s gonna make sure nothing happens to me. I promise, I need you to be big, and take care of Mummy for us alright? Help her with your brother okay? Can you do that for us?” He asks softly brushing her hair behind her ear.

“I-I think so,” she mumbles, her voice soft.

“I know you can,” Simon brushes his fingers through her hair. Simon picks her up, and hugs her tight. Your daughter looks at you and Soap over his shoulder.

“Be good okay?” Soap smiles at her, and then looks down at your son. “And you mister, don’t cause too much trouble.”

Your son smiles and smacks his hand against Johnnys chest. “I don’t think he knows how to not cause trouble,” you mumble earning a laugh from your family. It was no secret that your son was a handful, taking after Johnny more than Simon. The image of him sitting in the fridge after he learned how to climb flashes in your mind.

“Okay Lovie,” Simon says, setting your daughter down. “Can you bring your brother to the playroom, so we can talk to mummy?”

“Okay Daddy,” she puts on her best smile and takes the toddler from your arms, holding his hands to help him walk to the playroom. As the door closes both Simon and Johnny move to stand in front of you.

“You gonna be okay?” Simon asks, his dark eyes on you.

“I’ll be fine Simon,” you smile, resting your hands on top of your bump.

“I know we’re leaving awfully close to the due date, I’d hate for to be alone when the new babe arrives,” Soap worries, as he pulls on his tactical vest.

“I’ll be fine, if something happens I’ll call Laswell and she’ll have both of your asses on the next flight home,” you roll you eyes. “Now go,” you wave them away, towards the kitchen.

“You don’t have to do that,” Simon grunts, pulling you into his arms by your hand.

“Do wh-what?” You mumble your voice tight, as tears burn in your eyes.

“Pretend that you’re made of stone,” Soap finishes Simon’s thought, as he also wraps his arms around you.

“We’ll be back Love, before you know it,” Simon kisses your hair.

“And in one piece too,” Soap adds.

“Promise?” You mumble into them.

“We promise.”

[peach-skyies]

the kiddos go trick-or-treating!🎃💜

[hopelesslonelyghost]

Affection

poly!task force 141 x gn!reader

warnings// suggestive-ish, tooth-rotting fluff, a sliver of angst at the end, NOT BETA READ; apologies for any typos

word count: 364

i loooove tf 141 poly fics i just had to hop on. it’s pretty short but i would love to write more about them <3 this one’s short bc i wrote it on a whim bc my worms were worminggg

I think about how each of the members of the 141 are so different when it comes to showing their affection for you:

There’s John who loves to rest his palm against your cheek and softens when he sees you melt against the warmth of his hand. You love placing a quick kiss to his palm, hearing the way he purrs under your ministrations sending a shiver down your spine.

Then there’s Soap who loves to just yank you gently against him and wrap his arms tightly around you, giving you a good squeeze with those beefy arms of his while placing a soft kiss to your forehead. You squeeze him back, trying to reciprocate the same energy he gives you, tilting your head up enough to place your lips against his neck, living for the way goosebumps erupt on his skin when you do.

Then, of course, there’s Gaz who loves picking you up from the waist, twirling you around, making you giggle. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, gripping on his shoulders as you stare into each other’s eyes. Pulling him in by placing a hand on the back of his neck, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. He always ends up pinning you against the wall, holding you there as the two of you reconnect after a long mission away from each other.

And last, but most definitely not least, is Simon who isn’t very comfortable with open expressions of affection, but shows it in the way of fleeting touches. Standing next to you during debriefs, pinkies softly brushing against each other, his way of saying ‘I’m here.’ Or sitting next to you at the mess hall, legs spread and his knee gently knocking against yours under the table. You think back on the time you got the ghost alone in the hall, looking both ways before standing on your tippy-toes, gripping his shoulders and tugging him down, placing a kiss onto his skull mask and whispering, “Please be safe.” just before he left on a solo op.

The four of them knowing without needing to say it, that you truly love them and cherish every moment you have with them. Soaking in each other, because you’re all painfully aware that tomorrow is never promised.

[starry-eyedblog]

currently imagining johnny with a muzzle strapped to his face, drool slowly dripping off the metal and down onto your poor shivering form. he’s rutting into your thigh like a dog in heat, panting and growling as he rolls his slick cock against you continuously, hands gripping at you too tightly. he’s using you to get off, uncaring of your pleasure. that’s until a large hand is clamping down on the back of his neck, yanking him back and tutting loudly, “bad dog.” it’s simon, your owner, saving you from the naughty, dirty dog :((

[alwaysshallow]

fake dating with Soap will include him going "let's practice kissing. you know, so it seems more real." and him kissing you like you're the love of his life, leaving you both dazed and minds fogged up. then he does it again because "that wasn't quite right. lemme try again." and cue to both of you falling off the couch and kissing on the floor *giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of this*

anon. i had to write something more for this

"'st for practice. It has to look real." he begs you.

You start to think you don't really get the terms of this deal. As Soap determined the meaning of this fake dating thingy, it had to be strictly casual. Every little hug now and then, holding hands, casual kiss on the cheek so his aunts wouldn't suspect him of lying right in front of them (ironic, isn't it?). It worked at the beggining – to be strict, two birthdays, his aunt's and grandma's – but now, he's in your apartment, saying something about this relationship being fake.

"It... is, fake." you say, absolutely bamboozled, which causes Soap to groan and shake his head.

He invades your private space, as he traps you between his arms, his palms on the cushions beside you. If it wasn't a fake thing, you'd probably start making out with him, but it is fake. You have to be professional to not cross a boundary that you set for yourself.

"Come on, hen" his voice drops an octave; you shiver at the feeling of his cold fingers touching the side of your neck. "We have to kiss, eventually. Happy kiss, happy couple."

You want to correct him, but when your gaze crosses with his, his absolute blue, puppy eyes convince you. It's nothing. You've done worse things for the missions, almost had to sleep with the enemy for an intel. It's not like you can't do kissing practice for a simple friend.

The moment he kisses you, you know it's not going to be a practice. It's far from it, he kisses you so deeply, so sensually, like he was a man starved – maybe he is, just like he's a fighter when his tongue absolutely dominates yours, and he lets out a satisfied groan.

You really want to end this. You do, in fact, end it, when you pull away from the kiss, panting, when he looks at you. This look is different than the last; full of lust, there's nothing of that crystal, royal blue that was here a while ago. His pupils are almost black, and you gulp, backing off a little. Trying because he's at you again.

"That... wasn't quite right. Lemme try again, eh?"

Johnny absolutely kills the last willpower you had, when he grabs your neck forcefully, causing you to gasp at the sensation. His lips are hot on yours, and you two land on the floor eventually because there's not enough of space for him – your hiss of pain causes him to laugh at it, and it's the meanest laugh you've ever heard from him.

"Aww, yer ass needs a little kiss too? To hurt less?" he whispers the question right against your lips, when your cheeks are heating up. His actions speaks louder than words, though; his hand is at your ass, and you don't try to correct him.

It's just the beggining.

another brainrot about them

[aethelwyneleigh27]

You CANNOT convince me this ain't them, the prompts can be switched to either one but the colors are just chef's kiss.

Also coming up works are Husband!John "Soap" MacTavish and more Scenarios and Moments with Dad!Ghost, TF141 of them interacting with Ghostie.

Part one:

Part two: