simon 'ghost' riley met you at a bar he frequently visited with the men when they were off deployment. you were sat at the bar surrounded by a bunch of your lady friends, drinking and chatting, when suddenly your eyes met his. you couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks as you quickly looked away, captivated by the masked man. simon continued to look at you, watching the way you tucked your hair behind your ear and swig your drink before ordering another one, giggling with your friends. you thought about walking over to the masked man, thought about introducing yourself, but you decided against it. he probably always gets females throwing themselves at him. soap had noticed the object of simon's stare and smirked before whispering "why don't you just go over and say hi."
plucking up the courage, simon downed his whisky before slowly, and unsurely, making his way over to you. he was half-way there when he noticed your friend watching him before bending over to you and whispering something. you turned your head to look at simon, smile lighting up your face. he thought about turning around and cutting his losses, but you stood up and walked the remainder of the way, meeting him. "hi," you said softly, holding your hand out. "i'm y/n."
"simon," he replied, taking his hand in yours and shaking it. "but you can call me ghost."
"ghost huh?" you asked with a tipsy giggle. "i like that."
you sat at the other end of the bar for the rest of your time at the bar, talking with simon. when you had to go, you pulled a tiny notepad out of your handbag, scribbling your number on it and giving it to the man infront of you. "text me," you whispered, before turning around to meet up with the rest of your friends and leaving the establishment. simon looked down at the piece of paper with your number on it and he hoped that it was legitimate.
könig met you at a supermarket. he was shopping for the essentials and wasn't looking where he was going, when all of a sudden his shopping trolley ran into yours. "verzeihen sie mir," he whispered, looking at you apologetically.
"huh?" you asked, tilting your head.
"forgive me," he translated, a shy blush creeping up on his cheeks as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.
"it's okay, happens all the time," you smiled politely. your words put könig at ease and he felt like he could finally breathe. "are you german?" you asked, taking note of the german language used upon his apology.
"austrian," he corrected you quietly.
"sorry," you responded, a blush now spreading across your cheeks. "do you come here often?" you asked. könig nodded, unsure of what exactly to say. his face was flushed red with embarrassment but he watched as you continued to grab your shopping items off the shelves, occasionally looking over to him. "it's a good supermarket," you said randomly, trying to make small-talk with the man who loomed over you. "as far as supermarkets go anyway."
the man chuckled and nodded, "ja, as far as supermarkets go," he repeated.
"i've always wanted to learn german," you admitted, just letting your brain do all the talking as the two of you began walking through the aisles together.
"i could teach you," he said.
your eyes lit up, glistening with excitement. "really?" the man nodded in response. "my name is y/n by the way," you said, realising you had never told him your name.
"könig," he replied.
"would you... like my number?" you asked sheepishly, looking könig in the eyes. the man nodded, face still flushed with embarrassment as he realised you were coming on to him. you smiled softly and ripped a piece of paper off the bottom of your shopping list and wrote down your number. nervously, you handed him the piece of paper. "text me?" you asked, hopefully.
"i will liebe," he said as he took the piece of paper off of you and stuffing it into his pocket. and with that, you said your goodbyes and went off to purchase your groceries.
johnny 'soap' mactavish, like simon, met you in a bar. you were sitting by the bar all alone, seemingly downing your sorrows in copious amounts of alcohol. from the moment johnny had walked in, he had a feeling that he should keep an eye on you. it was obvious by your red-eyes that you had been crying, and johnny didn't want any of the men in the bar trying to take advantage of you. he watched as the bartended poured you drink after drink and admired the way in which you downed them.
it wasn't long before someone was stalking over to you, starting up a conversation. johnny felt himself tense as the man placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. he drowned out all conversations in the bar and focused on yours.
"you should come home with me," the man slurred to you.
you shook your head and wiped the remaining tears from your eyes as you spoke, "no thank you."
"aweh why not sweetie?" the man continued to press.
"i'm happy here," you replied. "besides, i'm waiting for someone." it was obviously a lie, and the man bothering you knew that.
"i can wait until whoever you're waiting for shows up," the man slurred, taking a seat awfully close to you.
"that's not needed," you said, shifting away as the man came closer to you.
johnny did what a real gentleman would do. he couldn't sit back and let this drunken creep harass you. so, he pushed up his chest and stormed over to you a smile on his face. "there you are! i'm so sorry i'm late."
you whipped your head round to face johnny who sent you a subtle wink, letting you know he was only trying to help you out. you breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. "don't worry about it," you replied. "sorry, i have to go."
you turned to the drunken man next to you who simply grumbled in response as you walked away with johnny. you sat down across from johnny in the booths and smiled at him. "thank you so much," you said, taking a deep shaky breath as you looked at him.
"don't mention it," johnny replied, taking a sip of his drink. "truth be told i've had my eye on you since i walked in. thought someone was bound to try and bother you at some point."
you felt your face heat up at his comment, a warmth spread across your stomach knowing he was looking out for you. "i'm y/n," you smiled, mimicking his actions and taking a sip of your drink.
"johnny, but you can call me soap," he smirked. "let me walk you home?"
"i'd like that," you smiled. you and johnny stood up and made your way out of the bar and to your home. when you finally made it to your apartment, you turned to johnny with a look of appreciation across your face. "thank you."
"it's no worries," he smiled back at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.
"would you like to come in?" you asked awkwardly, unsure of the social etiquette for people who protect you from drunken men in the bar.
johnny shook his head "no it's alright, i better head home myself, but thank you."
he was about to turn around and walk away when you opened your mouth, "johnny," you said. "would you, maybe, like my number?" johnny couldn't stop the smirk spreading across his face. he hadn't done all of this just to get your number, but he wasn't going to say no. he fished his phone out of his pocket and passed it to you. you texted yourself and handed him back the phone before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "thank you again," you smiled.
"don't mention it," he replied. "have a good night, y/n."
"have a goodnight, soap."
john price met you at a coffee shop. you were the barista, working behind the counter and serving people their coffee and food. this was a particular coffee shop john had never been too before, and he wondered why. the atmosphere inside was overwhelmingly beautiful. he waited in line to get his coffee and when it was his turn, you looked at him with sparkling eyes that made his breath get caught in his throat. "what can i get for you today?" you asked sweetly, your voice dripping with honey. john's mind went blank momentarily before he snapped himself out of it, ordering a coffee to-go. you nodded with a smile and quickly made his order. with that you bid him a goodbye, not expecting to see him again.
but john returned. not only was the coffee possibly the best he's ever had, but he had to admit that he thought you were beautiful and the main reason for his constant return. he became a regular at the small coffee shop, had learnt your name was y/n and that you were the manager there. on this particular day, john was feeling bold, very bold. he walked in and greeted you with a smile "good morning y/n."
"good morning john," you smiled back, waving as you made the other peoples orders. when you got to him, you leaned over the counter, "what can i get you today john, the usual?"
"yeah," he replied, biting his bottom lip before adding. "with a side of your number."
you chuckled and began making his order, writing your phone number on the side of his cup. when you had finished john's order, you passed it to him. "here you go, a regular with a side of my number."
john was slightly taken back that his lame pick-up line worked, but took the coffee nonetheless. "thanks y/n, you'll be hearing from me soon," he said before turning on his heels and leaving.
"i'll hold you to that!" you called out with a smile as he left.
phillip graves met you at a charity event. you were general shepherd's daughter and were the co-host of a charity event hosted by your father. when phillip walked in, his eyes automatically found you. you were dressed lavishly and stood by your fathers side, thanking everyone for coming as they entered.
he walked over to you and your father, making himself known. "general shepherd," he said, nodding towards your father before turning his attention to you. "and you are?" he asked politely, turning on his southern charm.
"my name is y/n," you smiled, holding your hand out for him to shake. "i'm general shepherd's daughter."
phillip was slightly taken back by this, but took your hand and pressed his lips against the top. you blushed lightly as he kissed your hand. "my name is phillip graves," he introduced himself, slowly putting your hand down to rest at your side.
"lovely to meet you," you smiled softly.
"the pleasure is all mine darlin'," he whispered back and with that, he waltzed off to mingle with the crowed.
throughout the night, phillip continued catching your eye. either you caught him staring, or he caught you staring. before you knew it, you were in a game of cat and mouse as phillip tried to get you alone. eventually, phillip caught you, grasping your arm gently and pulling you onto a balcony. "hi phillip," you breathed innocently, looking up at him through fluttering lashes.
"hey gorgeous," he smirked with a wink. "how's your night goin'?"
"as good as formal events can be," you replied with a slight laugh.
phillip smirked at your sense of humour and let go of your arm. "you look lovely," he said, gazing into your eyes.
"you don't look so bad yourself, mr graves," you replied flirtatiously. "i must head back inside now but here," you said holding out a napkin. "i thought you'd corner me eventually. here's my number."
"why thank you darlin'," he grinned, taking the napkin and admiring the numbers scrawled over it before placing it into his tuxedo pocket.
"hope to hear from you soon, phillip," you smiled before turning around and walking back into the charity event, leaving phillip alone on the balcony.
a/n || hey guys, i hope you liked this first little cod scenario, there'll be plenty more where this came from. requests are currently closed but due to financial difficulties my commissions are open (here) - so if there's something you'd like to see, feel free to send in a commission!
The 141 (or anyone) reacting to fireworks with their ptsd :(
And reader giving them noise cancelling headphones/ music/ a movie/ lots of cuddles to drown them out
Love me some hurt/comfort
He had a pillow pressed tightly over his head. Not that it did much. You were sleeping so peacefully completely unaware of the war going on outside. Well to him that’s what it sounded like. To everyone else it sounded like a bunch of stupid teenagers who got their hands on some explosives. He was so close to waking you up. Yet every time his hand extended towards your body he stopped himself.
‘Don’t bother them.’ Pounded over and over in his head. His heart was beating so fast he was surprised it hadn’t given out. There was surely a sweat outline of his body against the sheets. You moved. A simple sleepy stretch causing soft moan escaping you.
‘Please wake up.’
Didn’t you realize his arms weren’t around you? Didn’t you feel his shivering body? Couldn’t you hear his ragged breathing. Didn’t you hear the attack outside? Didn’t you smell the gunpowder? Didn’t you hear the screaming?
“Sweetheart.” He couldn’t bear it anymore. “Sweetheart.” He repeated again. His head rested against your pillow, his face burying itself in the back of you neck. His arms returned to your waist pulling you so close the two of you couldn’t be differentiated. You groaned.
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. Another- much louder boom echoed through the house. His grip on you tightened a soft whimper leaving him.
“Si.” You repeated again, this time out of worry. “It’s okay Si. Why don’t we move to the couch?”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.” He still wasn’t completely present. “I’m sorry.”
You tried to turn in his grasp- he loosened his grip to let you.
“You never have to be sorry.” You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pressed his sweaty forehead against yours. “Do you want to go to the couch? Watch a movie?”
He shook his head. “Just wanna stay like this, please.”
You mumbled a small ‘okay’ before pressing your cheek against his, your head sandwiched between his and the pillow. Your fingers traced back and forth over his jaw- something he usually did to self soothe. He closed his eyes, completely allowing himself to sink into you touch.
He was trying his hardest to keep it together. He was always fine with these types of things- maybe jumping a time or two, but something was different. Maybe it was all the people. Maybe it was the fact you were here- his urge to protect doubling. Maybe it was the total black night sky, that made him unable to see his surroundings. Whatever it was was almost sending him to his knees.
You watched with wide eyes as bold colors filled the sky. Fireworks never ceased to bring out the childlike wonder in you. You looked up at John expecting to see a similar look across his face. His eyes were frantically searching the area, his body ridged. Even over the loud boom you could hear his shuddered breathing. Your reached a hand out and pulled at his sleeve. His eyes quickly fled down to yours. He didn’t even need to say anything before you were tugging him away from the scene. You suddenly became all to aware of how loud it was. You felt horrible. You should’ve know better than to bring him to a firework show. You found shelter in a small restaurant around the corner.
The explosions could still be heard, but were muffled by smooth jazz and idle chatter.
“Two please.” The waitress quickly showed you to your table.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” You quickly shushed him.
“It was my fault. I should’ve know better.” You took full responsibility.
“No. If I didn’t think I could handle it then I would’ve said something. I don’t know what got into me.” He said. He gripped your hand pressing a kiss to your knuckles before squeezing it in his. “I’m sorry I ruined our night. I know how excited you were.”
You shushed him again.
“Please stop apologizing. It’s not your fault and I’m a big kid- I can handle a little disappointment. Do you feel better now?” You pulled your hand back along with his, resting both of them in your lap. He nodded his head.
“I do.” He smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “How ‘bout I buy you dinner so this evening isn’t a total waste?”
You giggled wildly as you were spun around. Two large hands found their way back to your waist, pulling you against him. He pulled away- just to spin you around again.
“You’re making me dizzy.” You snickered, poking at his chest.
“What?” He shouted, pulling a headphone away from his ear.
“I said you’re making me dizzy.” You shouted back. He smiled at you before doing it again.
“Johnny!” You pouted. He let go of you, jumping up and down bobbing his head to the blaring music.
As soon as you received a note on your door about a neighborhood party you decided it was the perfect night to do a silent disco. Both of you had your headphones in with Taylor Swift playing at the highest volume.
“Want to have a dance battle?”
“What?” You yelled, removing your headphones.
“I said do you want to have a dance battle?” He yelled back. Your eyes lit up.
“Loser makes dinner!”
“How ya doing?” You asked, peering up at Kyle over the blanket.
“I’m alright baby.” He assured, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Although if you were trying to distract me you should’ve pick a different movie.”
“Finding Nemo is a great movie!” You gasped. You couldn’t help but poke at his cheek while he smirked. He moved his head and playfully bit at your finger.
A loud boom echoed from outside. He jumped instinctively pulling you closer. The noise was bothering him more than he let on. He hated it. His attention should be solely on you. He was with you. Safe, warm and devastatingly happy. Not out there- in constant danger, cold and scared. He rubbed his cheek against your head, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. You wrapped your arms around him.
“Do you want to play Mario Kart?” You asked softly. His eyes shot opened.
Hey love your sleeping headcanons, but I was wondering if you could do headcanons for 141+konig and keegan, where they fine their s/o asleep in one of their clothing? Can be spicy if you want I don't mind, love your writing btw :)
Oohh this is so cute!! Some of them will be NSFW and some will be a lil fluffy. And Tysmm<33
141 + König, Keegan, and Alejandro finding their s/o asleep in one of their clothing
Warnings: some smut (not much), somnophilia
Sorry if some of these suck, I was being very lazy while writing this Lmao
Not proof read
Today was the day that Simon would finally come home after months of being deployed. It was around 1 in the morning and you were asleep, wearing nothing but one of Simon’s shirts and a pair of panties. The covers were messily thrown off of you due to your rough sleeping and how hot it was in the room. You forgot to turn the AC on last night but you were too tired to care.
Simon had come in quietly, trying not to wake you. He’d set his bags down and taken his boots off before entering your shared room. ‘Fuckin’ hell’ He said quietly, as he saw you sleeping in his shirt. He took his mask off and set it on the dresser, and before he could even get his clothes off to go to sleep, he crawled up to you on the bed and started kissing your neck softly.
You started stirring in your sleep as he continued, before finally waking up. “Simon..” you mumbled, still half asleep. “You look so fucking good in my shirt baby.” Simon whispered, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You giggled and opened your eyes to look at your massive boyfriend. “I do?” You asked, running your fingers through his hair. “You do, love.” He said softly, before returning to kiss your neck.
It wasn’t even 8:00 yet and you were already passed out on the couch, wearing one of Johnny’s shirts and a pair of his boxers as shorts. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wear his clothes, but it never failed to turn him on. It was definitely one of his biggest turn ons. It fueled his size kink. A lot. The way his tightest shirts were so big on you. Steamin’ Jesus. He’ll have you in the bedroom in seconds.
He’d just gotten home after being away for weeks. He didn’t expect you to be asleep since it was so early so he didn’t hesitate to make any noise as he walked in. “Bonnie, I’m home!” He yelled before dropping his bags and taking his boots off. “Y/n!!” He yelled again after you didn’t answer. He started to walk towards y’all’s room but stopped when he saw you sleeping on the couch.
He walked over and kneeled down next to you. “Y/n…. Wake up lass, I’m home.” He said softly, peppering your face in kisses. You stirred in your sleep before slowly opening your eyes, smiling up at the scot. “Hey Johnny” you said tiredly, pulling him on top of you. “Hey, love” he smiled down at you before kissing you softly on the lips.
“Have I ever told you how fucking hot you look in my clothes? Because you do.” He said. “But… you’d look 1000 times better with them off.” You giggled before kissing him again. “So why don’t you take them off of me?” You asked, tracing his cheek bone with your finger.
He picked you up and brought you to the room and tossed you onto the bed. He climbed on top of you before ripping your (his) clothes off in a second. Let’s just say you couldn’t walk for a week after that night.
It was late when Gaz finally arrived home. He hasn’t seen you in months. He quietly entered the house as not to wake you. His heart melted when he saw you sleeping with his hoodie on. ‘So damn cute’ He whispered.
He climbed onto your shared bed after he took most of his clothes off and cuddled up behind you, which woke you up. “Gaz!!” You say excitedly, rubbing your eyes as you turn around to wrap your arms around him. “Hey y/n” he giggled, kissing you softly on the lips. “You should wear my hoodies more often. They look so good on you babe.” He cooed. “Oh I will.” You say, cupping his cheek in your hand.
Later that night, Gaz ended up in the hoodie with you snoring lightly as you held him tightly. Scared he’ll disappear if you do.
John had gone out to the bar with some of the boys and got home late. He knew you’d be asleep. But he didn’t know that you’d be wearing one of his favorite shirts because when he left you were wearing your own. But boy did he fucking love it.
He walked into the room and saw you sleeping, wearing his favorite shirt. The one he wore all the time. He can’t handle himself. You look too good in his clothes l, he has to fuck you right now. He took his shoes off, followed by his clothes and climbed on top of you, kissing every inch of exposed skin.
He pulled your underwear down and grabbed the lube from the bedside table and slathered it all over your cunt, before doing the same with himself. He slowly slid into you, causing you to stir in your sleep. After he starts grinding his hips into you, you wake up, moaning softly. “John” you whine. “Shh.. you look so good like this baby.” He cooed. Now fully awake, you pull him in for a sloppy kiss. “I should wear your clothes to bed more often.” You chuckled. “That you should baby.”
König was finally home. He had made it home pretty early so he didn’t expect for you to be asleep. But that quickly changed as soon as he walked into your shared room. You laid there, the covers thrown messily around the bed as you slept in nothing but a pair of his boxers and a bra. You were laying starfish style, snoring lightly as König crawled on top of you and ran his hands up your waist.
He lifted his mask up just enough to kiss all over your body. The way his underwear was so big on you, it drove him crazy. You woke up to König kissing your inner thigh. “Hey Kö” you giggle. “Hey Schatz“ he smiled up at you. “You like wearing my clothes?” He chuckled. “I love wearing your clothes.” You said softly, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt to pull him up to you. König kissed you on the lips before reaching his hand down to grab the waistband of his boxers you were wearing.
“As much as i love seeing you in these, I’d much prefer them to be off right now.” He cooed.
Keegan had left not too long ago to go to the store to grab a few things. When he left, you put on one of his shirts and took your pants off before crawling into the bed and turning on your favorite show. Not even five minutes into the episode you were watching and you were already passed out. Not long after that, Keegan had made it back home.
He walked inside and set the bags down on the counter before calling out to you. “Y/n, I got the stuff you asked for!” He yelled across the house. When you didn’t answer he went looking for you. He stepped into the bedroom and found you passed out on the bed, wearing his shirt and a pair of panties. You were on your back, the remote in your hand as the show you turned on still played in the background.
He crawled onto the bed and slowly pulled your panties down, before throwing them across the room. He spread your legs and sucked on two of his fingers to get them wet as he slowly started to rub your clit, causing you to stir in your sleep. He leant down and started eating you out, licking up from your entrance before sucking harshly at your clit. You woke up with soft moans escaping you. “Keegan.” You whine, reaching down to grab a handful of his hair.
He said nothing as he continued to sloppily eat you out, soon sliding two of his fingers into you as he pumped them slowly in and out. Your grip in his hair tightened as he continued. “What’s this for.” You giggle, but turns more into a loud moan. “For looking so damn cute in my clothes baby.”
I'm having a soft spot for werewolf soap. He isnsuch a puppy for you, full of joy and jumping around and playfull and loves yo wrap himself arround you and suffocate you with his thick fur
And then turns around andis absolutely feral , growling and staking his claims and will rip someone to shreds if needed.
Also just the imagie of a large wolf basically smirking is just to adorkable
I'm so here for bouncy enthusiastic puppy Soap who turns feral as soon as you're in danger.
It’s from one moment to the next that it happens
You’re clearing the route through the jungle with Soap at your side, a routine patrol on the outer perimeter of the temporary camp you and the team have set up in the days-long pursuit of the Narco cell that was responsible for the assassination of a politician. They’d fled into the thick foliage of the dense underbrush, and you and the team had quickly moved to follow, Los Vaqueros alongside you.
If Soap loved his job on a regular mission, this now seems to be the epitome of excitement for him. Besides having the pleasure to work alongside Ale and Rudy again, the thrill of the hunt itself is addictive to the shifter’s senses. The hum of life in the canopy, the lush scent of greenery, the spongy earth under his feet make the Scotsman practically bounce beside you, eyes glimmering and voice a vibrant cheer.
He bumps up against you, overexcited, nose brushing under your jaw, fangs just barely poking out in his enthusiasm. He’s paying less attention to the perimeter around you both and more to you, affectionate and adoring with his mate.
“Down, puppy.” You try for the third time, hands raising to gently push him off of you, and Soap whines at that, big beautiful blue eyes pouting.
“Only for a few minutes.” He pleads again. “Just a little jog cannae hurt, we won’t be long. Promise.”
“We have to finish our patrol first.” You chide not for the first time, and he grumbles at you in disappointment. Yet he doesn’t argue, knows that the job always comes first and foremost. Work before play.
He opens his mouth to say something else- likely to snark at you, but then he pauses. You see it in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate as his super-human hearing picks up on something distant.
“Soap?” You ask, quieter, concerned. Yet he doesn’t answer, not as his head whips towards the direction of the jungle and he doesn’t even breathe.
“Down!” He bellows, voice thunderous just as gunfire explodes from the ferns, and you yelp as suddenly his form barrels into yours, pressing you down into the soft dirt as bullets fly overhead.
You curse, try and twist from under him to return fire but Soap suddenly snarls, loud enough to make your heart stammer. His form hovers over you, braced on his elbows with his face just millimeters from your own.
It’s always his eyes that change first when Johnny shifts, going from baby blue to yellow in a matter of seconds as his body begins to transform- broadening, widening, bones cracking as they break and reform in the span of only seconds. You don’t understand how he manages the pain of his entire body re-writing itself, and now with his face contorted into something no less than fury, you remember at once just how deadly the werewolf above you truly is.
Mere moments, before Soap’s muzzle elongates and his fangs drip with pooling, hungry saliva onto your face, his shoulders drawing close, growing to accommodate his massive size, claws forming from his fingernails near your head. His gear and clothes shred as he shifts, ribboned into rags by his towering form.
“Stay.” Is all he tells you, his voice ringing clear in your mind as a trembling growl drops deep from the hollow of his chest. It’s the only warning you get before he launches himself in the direction of your attackers, and there’s screams at the sudden massive form that snarls and hurdles towards them with the intent of utter destruction.
It’s only when you try to shift and follow that you notice the bloody gash in your leg, rendered by a bullet that you couldn’t quite miss. You hiss at the pain, draw the leg up to your chest even as blood stains the fabric of your pants, pools across your gloved fingertips. It’s enough to distract you even as the radio erupts with chatter from Price and the others, pounding in your ears as you attempt to press down on the wound.
You don’t even notice the rest of the jungle go quiet until a looming shadow falls across you. You look up to see Soap’s huge yellow eyes, the blood caking his maw as he nudges at you, scruff still bristled with a still coiled energy from his carnage. You raise a bloody hand to the side of his face, and your wolf makes a little whine at the touch, concerned, upset, frenetic.
When there’s a rustle from the bushes, Soap snarls, the sound entirely feral, animalistic like the untamed creature that he is. Paws plant on either side of your form, shielding you from view as he turns in the direction of those that dare approach. Head hanging low in warning, blood dripping from his fangs, Soap issues only one, savage warning to those that venture too close to his injured mate.
After Alex left, the night slowed down considerably. He noticed Ghost acting odd though. Constantly picking at his mask or his gloves like something was bothering him. He tried to talk to him, but someone would need someone and he’d be dragged away.
Price disappeared, apparently going to woo his ex wife? Who was also Phil the neighbor? Soap was confused by it, but he decided it wasn’t his business. Cleaning up the pounds of wolf hair was keeping him busy enough. Alejandro asked him for the fancy candles that smell nice and Soap ended up having to go to the store to get a new one because none of them could just agree on one of the scents they had at home.
Somehow, for the first morning in ages, Ghost went to bed without Soap. He didn’t realize until Alejandro was pulling Rudy to their coffin to sleep and he saw that the sun was coming up. Soap still checked the coffin, just in case Ghost hadn’t realized somehow. Sure enough, he was already sleep. He had stripped out of several of his layers and Soap noticed some scratches on his wrists like he had been itching himself. It was odd. Soap wondered if something happened that he missed. Something that would make his Ghost anxious.
“Ah! Sorry sir! I wanted to check on you and make sure you were asleep.”
Ghost opened his eyes to look at him. “Johnny… Your scar. We didn’t get to talk.”
Soap smiled and perked up. “Want me to tell you now?”
Ghost nodded. “Like those things… the things…”
“Precisely.” Ghost purred, a rumble deep in his throat. He closed his eyes again, but he was still breathing so Soap knew he was awake.
Soap pulled up a seat and double checked the curtains before starting. “I grew up with three older sisters.”
“You act like a youngest sibling.”
Soap paused. “You say that like you know.”
“I had a younger brother once.” Ghost opened his eyes just a little. “And I’ve known plenty. You act like one.”
“Ah.” Soap tilted his head. “But I grew up with three of them and a Catholic dad.”
“One day, one of them challenged me to climb to the top of the steeple.”
Ghost’s eyes opened fully as he stared, clearly interested now.
“So I did. I waited until everyone was inside, told my Dad I needed to use the bathroom and climbed to the very top. Took ages, but I managed.”
“Went down and went back inside. Told my sisters. And none of them believed me. So when church let out, I did it again. Right in front of the congregation.”
“Whole flock indeed. My dad was so mad. My mom was so embarrassed. My sisters were all giggling like mad men though. Turns out they apparently did it all the time and wanted to see if I could figure it out.”
“What does this story have to do with your scar?”
“Well, my dad started yelling at me to get down right that minute. I got scared and lost my footing. Slammed down onto the pavement. Broke my foot and scratched up my face.”
Ghost narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying to me.”
“No I’m not!” Soap laughed.
“No. The story is true. But you’re lying. That’s not how you scratched up your face.”
Soap stopped laughing. While yes, Ghost was right. He didn’t expect to be called out on it. “Do you always know when I’m lying? That a vampire thing?”
“No. It’s a Ghost and Soap thing. I can tell when you lie. And you lied to me. Why?”
Soap faltered even more. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to say. “The church thing is the reason I got the scar. You’re right it wasn’t the direct result, but it was the reason.”
“And you don’t want to tell me what actually happened?”
Ghost nodded. “That’s okay… Do you have any more stories?”
Soap was a bit surprised, but he thought of his childhood. “Yeah. One time, my dad decided we should get chickens.”
“Chickens! For eggs!” Soap continued the story, ignoring that his eyes were starting to droop. Ghost eventually stopped breathing, as still as the grave, so he forced himself up. He blew out the candles and started to clean.
“Hey.” He recognized the American accent right away.
Soap turned around. “Alex right?”
The tall werewolf smiled at him. Luckily completely clothed. “Yep! Gaz turned in early, apparently he accidentally fed on someone who’s mom died so he wasn’t feeling well. Did you need help?”
Soap paused and thought about it. It was already 10. It would take him ages to clean up by himself. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Alex perked up and started helping. He listened to everything Soap said and they got it done in record timing.
Soap yawned. “I think I’m… gonna head to bed.”
Alex nodded. “Hey, I was curious.”
“There’s a few hate groups around here. Why have you never had the vamps eat those?”
Soap shrugged. “They’re not garbage disposals.”
“Gaz told me about your Tinder. And Craig’s list. I know that’s not completely true.”
“I’m Scottish.” Soap admitted with a groan. “Lot of them don’t like me either. Or they can tell I’m gay.”
Alex nodded. “I’m American. And straight passing. You ever want to lure them in with my help… I’d be happy to.” He smiled and Soap noticed how sharp his teeth were.
Soap just nodded. “I’ll think about it…”
Alex smiled but he was clearly thinking about something. It made Soap nervous.
“Might want to spray Febreze or something! Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.” He turned around and left.
What a weird fucking guy…
Soap got up and woke Ghost up like every sunset. “Sleep well Ghost?”
Ghost sat up slowly and stretched instead of answering. He shook his head like he was trying to dislodge water out of them.
“You alright, sir?”
Ghost touched the sides of his head, pressing his palm down over where his ears would be. “Yeah… I’m fine…” He didn’t take Soap’s hand.
Soap frowned and gently touched his shoulder. “Ghost, are you sure you’re okay? Is it one of your bad days?”
Ghost looked at Soap, sniffing. For a moment, he feared the worst. That Alex’s scent was still stuck to his clothing. But just as quickly, he moved on. “‘M not hungry. Just uh… Make sure everyone else is fed. And then can we watch that show you showed me? With the blond lady?”
“Buffy the Vampire slayer?”
“Yes. I like the way she fights. Reminds me of the warriors I died with.” He shuffled forward, still seeming a bit off.
Soap arranged for three people under the guise of a party to arrive and then set up the TV. Ghost sat right next to him, almost touching him. Both of them refused to lean into the other, so they stayed at a sort of stalemate. Normally that is.
Ghost leaned into his shoulder, leeching the warmth out of him.
Soap froze, not used to this. He moved just a little and Ghost started to pull away, so he gently tugged him back. It was… cozy. Even if Soap felt cold. He must’ve shivered because Ghost grabbed a blanket and then pulled him closer so he was leaning into his chest. The situation actually made him more cold, but Soap didn’t want to tell him that he was the problem. Eventually, he did start to warm up, answering one of questions at least. Ghost can be heated up.
Soap imagined Ghost in a little cup in the microwave and bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the idea. Ghost watched Buffy, always looking excited when she came on. Now that he was so close, Soap could also feel the twitches in his muscles when she fought, as if he wanted to leap into battle with him.
Soap knew of course that Ghost had been a warrior. Apparently, a very prestigious one. But it just… didn’t fit with the Ghost he had in his head. The man was dangerous, honestly he was the scariest of people in the house on first glance. But once he got to know them, Ghost didn’t really seem that scary. It was hard for him to see him fighting through hoards of people, all while human. To imagine him ripping others to shreds with his sword instead of one person at a time with his teeth.
“Ghost. Can I ask you a question? Since you asked me questions earlier?”
Ghost shrugged. “Won’t promise I’ll answer, but sure.”
“What were you like as a human?”
Ghost sighed. “Better.”
Soap didn’t like that answer very much. “I like how you are now.”
“I was… different. Promise not to judge me too harshly? I know rules have changed.”
Soap didn’t really understand but he agreed.
“I had many wives. Using wife gender neutrally. Some were men, some were women, some were neither.”
“You had a harem??”
“Guess so? I don’t know. I had many though. I was also born during the warm period, so food was abundant. I never dealt with a famine while alive. Only heard of them distantly. My job was a conqueror. Bringing new lands back to my King. Met a few Scottish people in my day, though they only spoke Gaelic.” His hand came up, touching Soap’s face. Tracing the lines of his facial hair and then his lips. “Nice people. Food was good.”
Soap couldn’t breath. “Any of your wives…”
“A few.” Ghost looked guilty. “I never hurt them. Not physically. Never mistreated any of them. Lots of men in my time did. My country was not the best of women, but I… I never…”
“I believe you. Don’t worry.” Soap smiled. Because he did. Ghost would never.
“Johnny. You’re too good. Why do you want this?”
It sounded an awful lot like why do you want me.
“I want to be a vampire because…” Soap hesitated. “I…”
Ghost shook his head. “You deserve better.”
“But I want this. You promised.” Soap grabbed his shirt hard, feeling Ghost tense.
“I did. And I’ll make good on it.” Ghost made eye contact with him and it burned. It bubbled and singed and Soap wanted to kiss him. Wanted to mouth at the fabric. Wanted to feel his hands on him.
For a moment, just one, Ghost looked like he intended to do that. His hands grabbed him hard and pulled him closer.
“GHOST THE FUCKING DOG IS BACK.”
Ghost turned away when he heard Alejandro’s screams. He laughed and scooped Soap up before dropping him back on the couch. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
The window opened and a lady slid in. “Hey! Are you the familiar?” She was clearly not a vampire since she just fucking waltzed in.
Soap went to yell but she quickly put her hands up. “Wait! Wait!! Please, don’t get them just yet. Alex is keeping them all distracted.”
Soap frowned but quieted down. She was tall, about his height and looked to be from the middle east. She was really pretty.
“I need your help. Badly.”
Soap frowned. “How could I help you?”
“I have a friend who’s been forced to be a familiar.”
“Oh, a thrall?”
She paused. “A thrall??”
“Yes. A person forced to service a vampire. It’s a whole thing. Anyway, she’s a thrall I guess. And I need your help to free her, you know, since you’re pro familiar rights?”
Soap frowned. “I mean… I’m pro equal rights, but I wouldn’t say I’m really out there advocating for familiars specifically.”
“But the bats treat you so well??”
Soap wanted to know what vampires were being so cruel that this was considered top tier treatment. “Let’s ignore that. Look, I can talk to Ghost so we ca-”
“No! This is why I came to you directly. I only want to talk to you about this. I don’t trust them.”
Soap saw her teeth. Sharp back teeth, longer canines. “You’re a werewolf?”
“Is your friend a werewolf?”
“No. She’s human.”
“And your name is?”
“Farah! Very nice to meet you by the way. Sorry I had to barge in like this, but its a life or death scenario. Tomorrow morning, can you meet me at our pack house?”
“Tomorrow morning meaning in a few hours or like… actually tomorrow morning?”
Farah gave him an unimpressed stare.
“It’s an important distinction!! I’ve had this problem before.” Soap explained.
“Actually tomorrow morning.”
“Thank God, I had stuff I needed to do.”
Farah twitched. “Please just… meet me.”
She looked up and suddenly threw herself back out the window. Ghost came back in and saw him. “There you are. You okay?” He crossed the room and quickly touched him. It was clinical, clearly just wanting to make sure he’s okay.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. Did you get him out of here?”
“I did. Let’s watch more later.”
Soap smiled. “I’ll leave it where it is.” He frowned as soon as Ghost turned around, noticing him scratching at his ears again. How odd. He hoped he was okay.
Soap checked on Price to see how he was doing. Only to see him at the fence, talking to the neighbor. He sidled up. “Oh, hey Graves.”
“Hey Soap! Didn’t tell me you guys had family visiting.” He smiled and kept glancing at Price with something close to suspicion. Soap chanced a look at Price, surprised to find him so… calm. Smiling expertly to hide the teeth.
“Soap also didn’t tell me how cute the neighbors are.”
Graves blushed. “British. Like your accent.”
“I’m sure it would sound much better betwe-”
Soap took his cross necklace out under the guise of fiddling with it. Price ended what he was saying with a wheeze, clearly trying to not make his disdain noticeable.
Soap smiled. “Nice to see you again. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.”
Graves just nodded and looked at Price again before leaving. He glanced back at Price before going back in the house.
“Don’t sexually harass my neighbors.”
Price hissed at him and left angrily.
Soap cleaned the bodies out of the basement and stretched. Thanks to Alex’s help, there was no other cleaning to do. Ghost would probably be in his room.
He was not. There was however some noise in one of the spare rooms.
Soap was stupid enough to look inside said room.
Alejandro had Ghost against the wall. The two of them chest to chest. They were touching all over each other and half of their clothes were strewn about.
Made sense. Alejandro and Rodolfo in an open relationship. Vampires were needy creatures.
Ghost groaned and nuzzled into Alejandro’s throat. Alejandro’s hands tightened on his hips to pull him closer.
Soap still felt… slightly hurt. He wasn’t sure why though. Because Ghost was with someone else? That was… stupid.
Ghost��s hand sped up and Alejandro spoke to him, right in his ear so Soap couldn’t hear him. Ghost tensed up and pressed tighter to Alejandro, his grip would probably bruise. Soap could faintly hear them both panting, the fake need to breath coming out.
“There ya go, Simon. Feel better.” Alejandro teased, forcing his head back as he mouthed at his throat.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“There you are. I knew you were just in a bad mood. Just need to a pick me up.” Alejandro purred and pressed him back against the wall. He continued rutting into Ghost’s hand as he lifted the fabric to properly bite his throat. Then, he slid it further up to kiss him properly.
Ghost’s free hand slid up into his hair, combing through him before he whimpered, shaking as he came. Alejandro followed right after, sinking his teeth into Ghost’s flesh. Ghost snarled at him for that and yanked him back.
“Sorry, sorry. You taste nice.”
“I taste foul. Like all vampires do. Now get out of here.”
Alejandro licked at the mess on his hand and Soap quickly backed off. If he got caught, that would…
Would it be bad? Probably not honestly. Maybe for Ghost. To be seen like that without his consent…
It just not hit Soap what he had done. He watched his housemates fuck. Or at least jerk each other off. Like a perv!! He watched them like a perv!!
Soap quickly left as quickly as possible, all but fleeing the situation. This was awful. Terrible. Disgusting. He grabbed his cross necklace and tried to figure out how he was supposed to look Ghost in the eye later when he put him to bed.
Difficult was the fucking answer. Ghost was in a much better mood than earlier and Soap knew why. It drove him crazy.
If Alex hadn’t interrupted, would that have been him? Maybe Ghost would’ve kissed him? Even if it was just a need based thing, it would’ve happened.
He left the room in a daze.
“Say a word about that to anyone and I’ll kill you.”
Soap jumped out of his skin before whirling around to look at Alejandro in the shadow of the hallway. He looked menacing, something he very seldom did.
“I didn’t mean to watch okay? And I promise I’d never want to get you in trouble with Rodolfo.”
Alejandro sighed. “Rodolfo is well aware of what I do. I’d never go behind my husband’s back for anything. As much as I enjoy Ghost, not even he’s worth that. I’ll kill you because Ghost will be upset. He let his guard down and I let you watch.”
“You think I didn’t smell you? The cologne you wear because you think it covers up the scent of decay from the bodies, the savory scent of your blood and skin. Not to mention your heartbeat. It sped up when I lifted the mask. Did even more when I kissed him. I know it wasn’t me that had you like that.” Alejandro smiled a little and Soap’s heart sped up. His fangs were bloody. “I’m sorry.”
Alejandro kept staring at him before moving closer. Soap backed up instinctively. Rodolfo didn’t scare him quite as much. They had slept together a few times. Hard to find him scary. Ghost wasn’t scary. Never really had been.
But Alejandro? Alejandro still scared him. He got closer until they were pressed to the wall like he had Ghost earlier. “Do you want to know what it felt like?”
“What what felt like?”
“Kissing him. I can show you.” Alejandro leaned in closer and Soap’s breath caught.
“I…” Soap couldn’t get enough breath in his lungs to respond.
Alejandro pulled away. “Tell me if you change your mind.” He grinned. “Sun just rose. I need to get to bed before Rudy notices I’m gone.”
Soap stood there for a long time, just focusing on his breathing.
What kind of whump potential did you have in mind for Soap in Alone? 👀 I am intrigued.
Rubs Hands Okay anon here goes nothing
🩸🧼 WHUMP POTENTIAL IN ALONE 🧼🩸
>> Soap got shot, and the bullet went past his right arm, which means there are two bullet holes in his arms. Bro's bleeding from two wounds ‼️
Not that I've ever got shot, but it must've hurt like a BITCH. 🩸We could've gotten some pained grunts outta him !! Make Soap hiss, grunt, moan, whimper, ANY SOUND OUT OF HIS MOUTH. Soap controlling his breaths - I LIVE for those 😭 (Kinda like in Overwatch, if you're on low health, you'd hear the characters' pained sounds. Of course for Soap not all the time, (the Shadows could hear him) but once in a while would be GREAT)
>> He didn't make any attempt to stop the bleeding (Bro could've used his tourniquet, or heck, if not tourniquet, Soap could've ripped his shirt and tied his arms to reduce the blood loss)
An interactive cutscene of him tying his arm up 👁️👁️ mmmmmmm I would EAT that shit up.
>> Blood loss is no joke, and the amount of time he uses his arm to kill the enemies, making the tools to pry open doors, cocktails, heck, the recoils he gets from shooting?? The blood would be jumpin' out of him like a damn hose ‼️‼️
I'm no medic, but you'd immediately get light headed sooner than when the one where Ghost and Soap went,
"Bit light-headed, are ya?"
"Bit shaky, Sir, yeah."
While that bit is such a good dialogue, we could've gotten more from his blood loss narrative. -> Make him have to support himself up with one arm!! Make him fall once again!! Make Soap talk to himself in an attempt to sort himself out ‼️‼️
>> Soap went to the sewers. Idk about y'all, but going under the sewer water with exposed wounds IS NOT A GOOD IDEA Y'ALL 😭. The amount of bacterial infection is going to br crazy. If not treated properly Soap's gonna get a whole fever breakdown and more over hallucinations and shit.
P.S. @lisbetadair made a whump fic about this check it out it's hella good
>> Post-Alone. If he's not gonna treat it himself, let Ghost or Rudy patch him up for Lord's sake 😭 the fact that his wounds just magically disappear made me cry so much. Let Ghost sew him up before entering the Los Vaqueros hideout, let Rudy check his wounds out ‼️
>> During the next missions like 'Prison Break' 'Ghost Team' and 'Countdown', make his teammates like Gaz or Price ask Soap before the actions start, "You're doing okay?" "You solid, Soap?" That'd be GREAT 👍
Feel free to add more because I LOVE in game whumps I crave more of it 😫
Soap shifts from one foot to the other, trying to crack the joints seemingly welded into place in his boot. There’s a bead of sweat pooling in the divots of his spine, pausing for long enough that he thinks it’ll finally just stay fucking put and he can focus on something else before it slides down to the next notch. He is already dreading what will happen if it gets close enough to the scratches decorating the planes of his hips. He’s not being shot at so that’s something at least. It’s only a small something given the unbearable fucking day of sunny weather that the universe has saw fit to bestow him when there’s an inspection and he can’t enjoy it.
“Just peachy, LT. Haven’t seen you around yet today.” Johnny had thrown on the throat mic only mostly out of habit, and if he had been hoping to hear Ghost in his ear then that is entirely his business and no-one else’s. He had heard Ghost plenty the night before, but Soap is a man of simple tastes and, right now, that is entirely Ghost.
Ghost hums and Soap tries to picture his expression like he’s trying to line up a jigsaw in his head, constructing half a thousand stolen glances at the exact shape of pale eyes and the idea of his mouth beneath dark fabric.
“Thought you were meant to be good at this, Johnny,” Ghost says and something in Soap’s stomach tightens. He feels like a dog at a starting line, Ghost’s hand looped through his collar (through the dark fabric keeping the mic attached to him, a leash he’s put on willingly each and every morning), waiting for the word to run.
He’d throw himself off a building if Ghost asked him to.
He has done it before.
“See if you can spot me, Johnny.”
“Yeah?” Soap scans his immediate surroundings, the empty stretch of the training grounds and the low huddle of the buildings just beyond it. Behind him is the crawl of an abandoned observation tower, tentatively blocked off by hazard tape and about six months worth of pigeon shit. He can only guess that he’s been stationed all the way out here to reduce the chance of the higher-ups from stumbling across him and his very sensible and necessary questions about their explosion budget. “Do I get something if I win, LT?”
There’s the low rumble of exhalation that hisses into static before Ghost answers, “What are you thinking, Johnny?”
Soap can picture him clearly like he’s already spilled his heart onto the pages of his sketchbook, the background inconsequential compared to the hazy fog of smoke filtering from Ghost’s mask, his gaze dark from beneath pale lowered lashes. He shifts where he’s standing, standing up straight and pressing his thumb into his palm to try and alleviate the craving to touch, to hold, to tear. It only mostly works. “I could think of something.”
“I’m sure you could.”
There’s a likely building at the edge of the field, one side freshly painted in such a blinding shade of white that Soap thinks it could be used in place of a floodlight if someone put a candle too close to it. There’s a set of admin offices inside he thinks, helpfully packed to the brim of anxious nail-biters and Ghost, his Ghost, tall and broad and nearly always dressed in black, would stick out like a sore thumb. Not impossible then, but looking less like an option.
“Do I get any clues, LT?” Soap rasps, prodding at his lower lip with his tongue. He knew he should have taken the chance to bring one of the little shitty plastic cups of coffee out with him, knew the moment he had walked out of the door grumbling about this dogshit location that he would. He bets Ghost has got a cup of tea with him, probably managed to terrify one of the new recruits into bringing him one.
A pigeon lands heavily on the ground next to him, some huge unit of a bird with pale blotched feathers over its chest. It coos, eyeing Soap up with mindless uncomprehension before it patters off back into the relative shade of the structure behind him.
“Three clues, Johnny. Think you can manage it with that?”
Directly across the field is one of the training rooms. The windows are set high up on the walls and three of them are open, all clustered in one corner. He thinks it might be one of the speciality courses inside, one of the collections of discarded children’s playground equipment being passed off as a high-tech and intentionally designed training course. Soap swears one of the ropes is actually a skipping rope with the handles cut off. Ghost could be in there, the location suits him given that it is high up so he is unlikely to be stumbled upon by any higher-ups in their carefully pressed dress uniforms. Soap can picture him sprawled out over one of the higher platforms, bisected by a careful circle of sunlight that had drawn a pale arc over the wood beneath him, his mask pulled up over his nose just so he can grin his sharp-toothed smile down at Soap’s misery.
He might as well make sure.
“Can I have a clue, LT?”
“I’m outside, Johnny.”
Soap’s carefully constructed picture crumples into dust. He might try to draw it later, get some of the itch in his fingers out with the scratch of pencil, hold his thumb up to the curve of Ghost’s waist to commit the angle of it to memory when he knows how it feels beneath his hands.
Outside. Wind in his hair, sun on his skin.
He’d had to do a science experiment in school once, packed off home with two plants in shitty plastic pots and bundled into a shopping bag he’d had to bring in with him. His Ma had grumbled a little about that, asking if she was meant to fortify him with a hammer and nails whenever the school needed repairs done too but she had pulled one from the depths of the kitchen drawer readily enough. One of the plants had been set on the kitchen windowsill and its height tracked carefully in Johnny’s exercise book, while the other had been relegated to the cupboard under the stairs. He’d wept over the plant, he remembers, stricken with grief over the stretched-thin yellow thing that had emerged, grown too high to support itself, searching for a light that it would never find.
Ghost reminds him a little of that plant, grown too fast, drained of colour, devoid of even the scant kindness that sunlight could offer him.
Wouldn’t be for long if Johnny got his way.
“Do you know what the vicar said at the farmer’s wedding, LT?”
“No,” Ghost says, a note of starved amusement in his voice. It’s the same as a handler’s whistle, a signal for Johnny to sit up and pay fucking attention to what’s being offered to him, a glimpse behind a mask made of more than just dark fabric and some paint. Johnny thinks about kissing him, about learning the shape of his mouth in every way he can.
“Speak now or forever hold your peas.”
Ghost laughs in a short sharp exhalation and Johnny burns with something he doesn’t dare name. Not yet. Not here in the uncaring light of day, the thought feels better suited for the slightly larger-than-average bed in Ghost’s room that holds his warmth and his shape like the world had curled itself around him, just like Johnny had. “Not bad. Not good either.”
“I can take that.”
There’s a large field between Johnny and the main section of the compound. In the distance, he could just make out the huddled sacrifices of those unfortunate few dragged in front of the higher-ups to be interrogated, have their hands shaken, poor bastards. Could his initial thought be wrong and Ghost is amongst them? He would have to be speaking quietly in order to still speak to Johnny (and something burning and possessive coils in his throat, neatly laced around the strap of his mic) and Johnny grins to himself about it all. “Another clue, LT?”
“I’m far away from nearly everyone.”
For fuck’s sake.
Could Ghost read his thoughts? Johnny widens his stance slightly, swaying back into the meagre hollow of shade the decaying building offers him, and presses his fist into his palm. It’s not a full shoulders back, head bowed, on your fucking knees, hands together in prayer, but it’s as close as Johnny gets nowadays when he’s not kneeling on the faded carpet of Ghost’s room with a reverent hand in his hair and he can see divinity in the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds that catch the jagged edges of Ghost’s shoulders.
Hang on a fucking second.
A pigeon coos somewhere behind him, low and sonorous, and Soap looks up.
It’s just a building at first, decorated with heavy pools of shadow and a liberal coat of bird shit along every possible edge, imposing in a cheap horror movie kind of way and Soap cups a hand around his eyes to try and blot out the sun. Then, Ghost moves, swings one leg out and back again in his heavy duty boots with the laces knotted so many times they’re an archeological exploration to undo (but Soap would pledge himself to it) and he’s transformed into flesh and blood and bone.
Ghost waves. “How copy, Johnny?”
“Ghost.” Johnny grins up at him. “Good to see you. You been keeping me company?”
“Better you than anyone else,” Ghost says. “Ready to head inside?”
Soap glances away, tracking the dark shift of the higher-ups as they head towards the exit of the site, and back again, hungry for even this distant study of Ghost. “Yeah, LT. Got to claim my prize after all.”
Pairing : Nikolai x F!Reader ( OC/Mini MacTavish) + Taskforce 141 + König
Summary: Little Anya getting all the love from her family.
Part I , Part II, Interlude,Part III,Part IV,Part V,Epilogue, Night
WARNING: Mature theme, talk of pregnancy, swearing, slight hint of sexy time
Thanks to @homicidal-slvt for planting ideas into my brain. this whole series is all for you :)
My usual thanking @saltofmercury, mother of Mini, for lending me the character :) Please go and check out her fics!
“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse.
Nikolai can hear you groaning over the headset, in discomfort. But he couldn’t see what was happening. They are flying over a danger zone, he can’t afford to lose his concentration nor tear his eyes off from the sky, no matter how much he wants to turn around, and check up on you physically. He has noticed you haven’t really been yourself in the last month or so. Often wake up groggy, exhausted all day, and losing appetite. He is seriously starting to worry there might be something wrong with you.
You are currently bending over, head in your hand and legs curled up in your seat, trying everything to distract yourself from the nauseating feeling that hits you in waves every time there is a slight turbulence, shaking the helicopter.
“Um… Uh, You ok??” König asked, trying to pat you on the back clumsily.
Letting out another groan, you threw your headset to the side, curling up even further into your seat, into a foetus position.
Slightly panicking, König reached into one of his side pouches, where he brought out a little tin container. Opening it up, he took out a piece of candied lemon ginger from there and stuffed it into your hand.
“Ah, have this, I , um, get motion sickness sometimes, and um, this usually helps.” he stammered as he explains, encouraging you to put the candy into your mouth, hoping to give you a bit of relief.
Turning your head slightly with watery eyes, you nodded your head, and quickly putting the candy into your mouth.
Getting slight relief from the tanginess of the lemon and spiciness of the ginger, you turn onto your side, leaning your head against the back of the pilot seat.
“Give me comfort to have my wife as close to me as possible.” Nikolai said once when you question why he always insists on you sitting right behind him. Now you are glad you have something to lean against, other than trying to lean against König, which you are sure the giant soldier probably will get a panic attack if you do that.
With a shaky hand, you pointed to the med kit on the other side of the helicopter, mumbling something. König leaned closer and asked you to repeat.
‘.... ondansetron…..med kit… pass it to me please…” you said weakly. You knew you should have taken it this morning before boarding the flight. But went against it because you didn’t want to fall asleep during the mission.
Quickly unbuckle his seat belt, passing other soldiers as he stride over to grab the medication you needed, and pass it onto you.
Breaking the foil and putting it under your tongue, try to let your mind wander, and think of everything else other than the breakfast and bile that is threatening to come back up, at the same time praying the anti-nausea medication will kick in ASAP.
König took his headset off, leaning closer, trying to be discreet, “Not trying to be nosy but um, my wife.. She had similar symptoms when she was… you know.” motioning with his large hand, indicating a large stomach.
You feel like someone has dumped a bucketful of cold water over your head. Shit, you forgot that might be the possibility. But… you have a birth control implant.
That’s when you realised, it has expired. For quite a while too. CRAP.
“I won’t tell anyone.” Fidgeting with his hand as he reassured you,you nodded your head with gratitude, thanking him for looking after you. He pressed the small tin box with the candy into your hand. “Here have this, just in case um, you need it again.” Opening your eyes wide, you shook your head, trying to decline.
‘It’s ok. I can make more.”
“You, you made this?” Gosh, that was a surprise.
Twiddling his thumb, he confessed, “I .. I like baking. And um, carving.”
Your eyes brightened up. Two of you spend the rest of the flight discussing recipes, and exchanging your famous chocolate biscuit recipe for his Oma’s mouth watering apple strudel recipe. It was a welcoming distraction until the helicopter came to land.
Nikolai found you lying down across the seat, lazily waving goodbye to the soldiers as they departed for their mission.
“Hey.” You greeted your husband with half closed eyes, the medication has finally kicked in, so has the side effect.
Frowning as he gently moves your head into his lap and caresses your face, “What’s going on little bird, I am seriously worrying about you lately.”
“Nothing. Just getting a bit air sick.”Closing your eyes as you enjoy his loving touches, and trying to dismiss his concerns. Not wanting to fuss about you and letting him in on the news until you are a hundred percent sure. There is a chance maybe you ate something that doesn’t agree with you, or maybe you are getting a bit old, and motion sickness gets you easier now. But deep down, you are pretty certain the cause of the discomfort.
“You never get motion sickness. At least not when I am piloting.” He puffed with pride. “I know how your brain works, little bird, tell me what is wrong.” He can always read your thoughts. When you are hiding something. When you are uncomfortable. When you pretend to be strong.
“I really don’t know.” You are scared. Scared by his reaction to a possible new addition to the family? Or are you scared that after finally working your way back to active duty, you will be pushed back to sitting in the barrack again, that feeling of uselessness coming back to you again. Taking a deep breath and circling your arm around his waist, “Maybe it’s something I ate. I’ll get it checked out once we are back at the base.”
“Promise me you will?” He gave you a look of warning. He knows you too well. You will put things off until the last minute or until necessary.
“Yes love. I will.” burying your face into his abs, taking in his scent, giving you some comfort.
Not yet. Just to keep it to yourself a little bit longer..
Chameleon passed you the pregnancy stick and blood test result. “Now you know what that means right?”
Your shoulders drop. Rubbing your forehead, you know you have to stop all active duty pretty much from now on. You are going to miss looking after the team from the frontline.
“How did you do it?” You asked after staring at the piece of paper in front of you.
Signing off another few documents,she replied,“ Well,I guess my situation is slightly different, I rarely get sent out, so it was easier for me. But.” passing the prescriptions to you, “You know how much John fusses over things, he was texting every hour, if they weren’t going dark,asking how I was feeling.” She sighed.
You can just imagine the Captain hovering around his wife, nagging away like a mother hen. Letting out a snorting laugh, you took the documents from her.
“Anyway, go get some rest. I’ll file the reports to the HR tomorrow. But it’s up to you to break the news to the boys now.” She smiled.
You gave her a big hug before you left the infirmary, back to your shared room.
You don’t know how long you have sat there for, zoning out, thinking of ways to break the news to the team. Or to your husband first. Also trying to fully come to terms with the situation, another big twist to your life. The two of you have briefly talked about the possibility of starting a family when you first got married. You were quite reluctant to jump into it after trying to recover from your ordeal, and Nikolai never mentioned anything again, and you assumed either he wasn’t too keen to bring up the subject or he had given up on the idea.
You heard the soft click of the door unlocking, before seeing Nikolai stepping into the room.
Calling out to him with a wavering voice, lips trembling, trying hard to contain the tears that are threatening to drop from your eyes. Those damn hormones are already wrecking your emotions, you thought. Why are you even crying???? It’s a happy occasion isn’t it? That self doubt starts to appear again. What if he gets angry at you? What if he doesn’t want the child at all? On that thought you bursted out crying.
Nikolai immediately closes the door, taking a few steps forward and kneeling in front of you.
“What’s the matter Lastochka, was it bad news from the doctor? Please tell me?” He gently wraps his larger hands around yours, encouraging you to talk.
Trying very hard not to hyperventilate, you closed your eyes, taking a few deep breath before
Letting out the news.
“I .. I can’t be with you anymore….” you hiccuped. You feel his hand tighten around yours. Opening your eyes, you can see flashes of fear before staring at you with hardened eyes.
Realising your mistake, you quickly explain, “ No. nono, that came out totally wrong.” you quickly pull back his already retracting hands, guiding it towards your now slightly showing bump.
“I can’t go on missions with you boys anymore. Lady Fortuna is officially off active duty now.” you let out a weak chuckle. “ and you.” Patting his hand and softening your gaze at him, “Have to start learning to be a Papa.”
He was still staring at you, you couldn’t figure out his emotion at all. You chewed on your lip, waiting anxiously for his reaction. Pulling one of his hands away, his eyes dropped down to your stomach, slowly caressing it as he started mumbling words in Russian. Your eyes fill up with tears again as you see him showing tenderness towards the unborn baby.
“...Boy or girl?” he whispered.
Shaking your head. “I am not sure yet. I am going for the scan in a few days.”
“How far along?”
“I am guessing I am still in the first trimester….” You didn’t want to say, but you had a pretty good idea when this happened….
That night was the first time he showed his full possessiveness towards you. Filling you up again and again.“That Сука has tainted my beautiful Lastochka with their filthy hand…” “I have told you before, you will only crave for me, no one else.”
“My beautiful bird,sing for me again.. I know you can do it..”
Your face starts burning when you think back to the night.
“From that covert mission?” he chuckled. “We were.. Quite busy that night.” standing up, he moved himself to sit beside you, and pull you into his lap.
“Thank you.” He whispered as he slowly and gently kisses you.
“For what?” you murmured.
“Carrying our child.”
You chuckled. “Hey, you were part of the production as well.” you teased. “It’s only the start of the journey. We still have a long way to go.”
Caressing your bump, he cooed, “Well, can’t wait to meet you, our little nestling.”
“COME ON Anya, come to uncle Gaz!!!”
“Nonono Anya, come to your REAL uncle here!!”
“....... “ Ghost sits there, opening his arm, staring down at the baby without a word.
“Ignore those .. What is the word, bampots? Come to Poppy Price.”
Little Anya crawled forward, looking at each one of them, confused. She slowly moves towards Gaz, who is waving one of his latest crochet dolls at her, trying to lure the baby. Anya pouted a little, and looked at her Uncle Soap, currently flashing a brilliant smile at his niece. Anya hesitated, and eyed Ghost, and her eyes went wide with tears in her eyes, and started quickly crawling towards Price.
“There there.. It’s ok.” Price cooed and patted the poor baby as she burst into tears, startled by Ghost’s balaclava. Ghost hung his head, shoulders down, feeling defeated. Gaz and Soap gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
“ Maybe lose the balaclava and just wear a face mask next time…” Gaz suggested. Stuffing one of the dolls into his hand, “Or maybe try this.”
The four men were in quite a shock when you called them into Price’s office days after your discovery.
Sliding the ultrasound picture onto the desk. All four of them stared at it, looking up to you, and back to the photo, and seconds later, Ghost, Gaz and Soap erupted into an argument over who is going to be the godfather to the baby, while Price rubbing his temple, irritated at their antics.
You shifted yourself off base towards the end of the pregnancy, getting ready for the birth. Price helped you to find a place, close to the base, easy for you to go back and forth for work and visiting.
The soldiers at the base also have secretly named Ghost Gaz and Soap “Cerberus” as there is always one of the men walking around with you all the time like a guard dog whenever Nikolai isn’t around to look after you.
Little Anya was definitely spoiled by his godfathers and uncles even before she was born.
König and his wife sent a baby gift in a huge crate. You found all sorts of things there. Blankets and winter clothes his wife has made, wooden toys and baby mobiles with aeroplane and helicopter hanging off it made by König. Even a rocking horse. You were really touched by the thoughtfulness of the couple, especially his wife, who you never met before.
This fired up Gaz’s competitiveness when he discovered all the clothing and toys König had sent. He came over one day with a huge bag, inside was all the crocheted dolls of everyone.
Price with his signature boonie hat and little cigar in his mouth, Soap with his mohawk, Gaz with his Union Jack cap, Nikolai and his aviator and headset, and there is you too, in a little combat gear. Konig in his hood and gears. He even asked for photos of your parents crocheting new doll figures afterwards too.
“You made all these?????” Your jaws drop as he keeps bringing over new knitted items. Now you know where all your previous birthday and holiday gifts came from, you always wondered how everything fits you perfectly with all the unique patterns. Gaz has really surprised you with his unexpected handcraft skills. Soap and Ghost practically decorated the whole nursery full of stuff from the cot and changing tables and the dressers and any supplies you can name? They bought it all.
“.... Boys, you realise you have bought a half room full of nappies that I possibly wouldn’t ever finish using?”
“Hey, they did say newborns pop a lot, better to be ready than sorry.” Soap shrugged his shoulders. “And my niece deserves the best. Doesn’t she??” he bent down and started talking in a baby voice to your very ballooned up stomach. You can see Ghost nodding in agreement behind Soap.
Price and Chameleon, being experienced parents to two adult kids, provided you with tips and guidance when you needed the most. Especially Chameleon, she knew the hardship of being a soldier’s wife, looking after the children alone. She was there when your water broke, to calm you down when you were crying and worrying Nikolai and the men wouldn’t make it back in time to witness the birth of the baby.
Anya MacTavish ( Nikolai and you decided she would take on your surname, as it was dangerous for Nikolai’s true name and identity to be attached to the child ) was born a healthy baby, inheriting her father’s more calming nature, making minimal fuss when she landed in this world.
Nikolai tries to be there for the two of you as much as he can. Between assisting the SAS and running the mercenary group, he is a busy man. His heart often drops every time when he comes home, his daughter will clutch onto you, in fear and looking at him as if he is a stranger. It breaks his heart. He decided he needs to start pulling back, spreading his workload to his second in command and spending more time with his family.
Ghost looked down at the doll he was holding, thought hard for a second, before he went ahead and removed his balaclava. You have only seen once or twice in rare circumstances the real face of Simon, but you didn’t expect him to remove the face covering just for your daughter.
Hiding her face in the crook of her Poppy Price’s neck, she turned her face slightly as Simon tried to call out to her, waving awkwardly the little doll of himself. She looks at him, eyes going wide again, trying to make sense of who this “ new person “ is, before reaching out for the doll, Price slowly passes Anya over to Simon, while she is distracted.
She let out a little yawn as she fiddled around with the doll, eyes fluttering and fell asleep snuggling in Simon’s arm. Everyone smiled at the scene in front of them.
You can see mixed emotion in Simon’s eyes. Happy that both him and Anya are slowly getting comfortable with one another. Your brother-in-arms deserves every bit of happiness after all the trauma he went through with his life, and maybe his goddaughter will bring him that tiny bit of joy. You gave Nikolai a nudge, reminding him to guide Simon upstairs towards the nursery to put the baby down in the cot to sleep.
“Still sleeping?” Nikolai asked in a hushed voice, as he came up and checked his little princess after all the men had returned to the base. Peering over the cot, he can see she’s holding on tight to the Ghost doll in her arm, while sucking on her thumb as she sleeps.
“Sleeping like a log. Nothing is phasing her even if the ceiling collapses.” You are fortunate Anya has been a very easy baby, sleeping through the night most of the time. A very deep sleeper too.
“Just like her mother.”
“Hey, I do wake up when I sense danger.” You pouted, referring to the safe house incident where you didn’t even realise Soap and Gaz had entered the apartment.
Nikolai bent over and gave his little baby daughter a kiss on the cheek. Thinking back when he proposed to you. He thought he was lucky enough just to have you in his life, now he has a tiny little precious bird he will give all his life to protect her from all the evil of the world.
Letting out a yawn. Exhausted from entertaining the guests you were ready to sleep. You let out a little yelp as Nikolai scoop you up into a bridal carry.
“Time for bed for the big princess.” Kissing you lightly on your forehead, carrying you back towards the bedroom. Ideas pop up in his head. Maybe another baby wouldn’t be such a bad idea…
141 boys often volunteer for babysitting duty. They were a constant presence in their goddaughter’s life growing up. There is also the constant battle of “ who is Anya’s favourite” going on between the men.
When Anya got married, she insisted her Papa and all her uncles and Poppy walk her down the aisle.
Anya often changes which doll she is in favour of, one week might be Ghost, next week might be Gaz, or hugging both Price and Soap’s doll to sleep at same time.
You tease Price and Chameleon if they are getting clucky again, or they are wishing for a grandkid, Price paled thinking about his little Grace being married so young.
You tried out König’s recipe of Apple strudel. And it is heavenly delicious. It became one of Nikolai and Anya’s favourite desserts.
Yes, thanks to @siilvan , I am so inspired and might write another chapter in regard how Anya was produced *wink wink * what exactly happened the night of the covert mission (Let’s hope the muse of Smut will inspire me bit more this time )
I don't know if this is an overstep so if it is feel free to ignore this but do you have any tips on how to write for Soap? I have a few things down already but i feel like I'm not getting his character right. Thank you <3 (love you work btw hoping things are better for you)
I’m kind of surprised I’m being asked this since I really haven’t written for Soap all that much! I do have a few things I think are important for writing him, which I put into practice when I consider his character and also gravitate toward in reading fic about him. This turned out to be kind of long, sorry lol.
I tend to break Soap down into certain specific traits: he is outgoing, he is provocative, he is compassionate, and he is self-sacrificing.
Outgoing—we see, constantly, that he’s the one offering his hand to shake, that he’s the one asking other people questions about themselves. He does his best to learn Spanish to talk to Rudy and Alejandro. He saves Ghost a seat on the transport in the very first mission of MW2. Soap is warm and friendly, always eager to talk to people and learn about them. He is absolutely the extroverted friend every introvert needs to feel comfortable leaving their safe space to explore the world at large, and he’s happy to be that friend too.
Provocative—Soap likes to push buttons. Nothing shows this more than his interactions with Ghost; “Actually he prefers to be called—”, “The mask…take it off,” “Are you ugly?” And so on. He is willing to say things other people might find less than tactful because of that outgoing nature of his. He isn’t shy about things other people might politely avoid. He does not, of course, cross significant lines; he doesn’t presume to actually tell Ghost what he thinks of the mask. I think this is because Soap is very good at taking the metaphorical temperature of his dynamic with other people—he can see where a boundary might be, and test how permeable that boundary is without outright violating it.
Compassionate—he does not provoke to cause trouble. Soap cares, deeply, both about his comrades and what is right. He’s the one to ask about the families driven out of the cartel compound they search through for Hassan. He’s the one to remember that Alejandro and Los Vaqueros are still on the oil rig before they blow the second missile, and he’s the one to warn them to get clear (I’m pretty sure). Soap likes people very much, and believes in their inherent worth. It’s why he manages to crack through Ghost’s armor; he is not shallow in his efforts to bond with the lieutenant. He actually cares enough to make the effort.
Self-sacrificing—because of Soap’s wealth of compassion, we see that he’s willing to put himself at risk for the greater good. He volunteers to go into Diego’s manor alone to find El Sin Nombre, and he chases after Hassan in Chicago after nearly getting blown up to stop the missile from reaching DC. He is cavalier with his own personal safety, and I think he might also be a little reckless with his own well-being in favor of getting a job done. After all, almost all of his campaign skins have him wearing a brace on one knee, and let’s not forget that he fucking GOT SHOT and kept going anyway without treatment. I think Soap doesn’t really pay great attention to his own pain, because he thinks outwardly; his main consideration is for others, not himself, even to his own detriment.
So those four things are what I’d consider foundational traits for writing Soap! I think they are excellent lodestones to return to if you get lost in trying to figure out how to characterize him. It’s easy to reduce him to bumbling comic relief (and I think that has, in part, something to do with him being Scottish, as Scot characters often suffer reductive treatment), but he can be richly complex given enough consideration.
This was a request, put in via submission. “Soap x soulmate au? Any au” I ran with my words a little here, I find it easy to write for Soap as he’s dead fun. Hope I proved this man worthy of the hype he deserves. Happy reading, kids.
↳ no warnings | gn!reader | 1.1k
good ‘ol johnny boy. apologise in advance for the scots words, they’re pretty self explanatory if you read between the lines. wain is a child.
At the end of the day.
You and Soap, or Johnny rather, were joined at the fucking hip. That duo who always showed up together, never apart for as long as they could help. It’d been that way since childhood, rainy days in Paisley after his parents had moved back down to the central belt. Pushing and chasing one another around the dull streets, name calling and loud laughs all the way through till late adolescence. Absolutely fuck-all came between you aside from his burning love for Rangers and yours for Celtic.
Match days were a fight, no doubt.
When he joined the Army it pissed you off. You’d known he was going to, christ, it’s all he’d yapped on about till he was old enough. But saying that last goodbye to him selfishly kicked up a storm in your stomach, willingly forgetting to recognise it was all he’d ever wanted. His dream, if you will.
But he wrote you letters, regardless of your sour faced send-off. Letters you’d dampened with tears, allowing the ink to run free across the page, now barely legible. His handwriting was barely legible anyway, but the tears certainly didn’t help.
Didn’t stop you from stashing them into a box under your bed though. An Adidas shoe box titled: ‘Fucker.’ You never were one for warmth.
And over time that box filled with all sorts of shite. His letters, patches, some photos — fuck even a few sticks and random fabrics he’d sent in envelopes with loads of ‘ha ha ha’s’ written on the back. When he got home you’d showed him said box and he still laughed with himself at the sticks.
“Got that in Azerbaijan, I mind picking them up.” His voice would rise in pitch, defending his past self.
Not that he had anything to defend. You’re the one that kept them.
Different story when he’d found the letters. Fuck, that was a day and a half. “You kept these aye?” He’d skimmed through the crumpled paper, “Greetin’ on them too.” A nudge of your shoulder
And that right there was the hour your friendship had transcended into something more. The whole hour actually, feelings were shared and truths came out. Johnny knew. Of course he knew. But you confirming his thoughts felt like getting into bed after a long day. Banging.
After that his deployments were all a routine. You’d cry, hate him for a maximum of a week for leaving you behind in the shithole that was Glasgow, receive a letter and then miss him. Repeat.
Above all else though, you were soulmates and that was absolutely undeniable. Finishing one another’s sentences, laughing until your sides hurt, speaking in silence by exchanging looks across rooms and dining tables. You’d even share your work gossip with him any chance you got, and he’d match your drama with his own, forever the menace even in such a serious profession. Additionally, letting you test your chances against wrestling him from time to time. Never did let you win though.
“That’d be you cheating.” He’d say as his arms pinned you down, “You’re no even tryin’ are you?”
“How’d they even let you in, you’re a big wain.” You’d frown at him, attempting to kick his stomach only resulting in a grapple to the floor.
“They let me in ‘cos i’m class.”
There wasn’t anything specific about Johnny that made you love him. It was a mix of everything, time included as you’d convinced yourself it was love from the ripe old age of thirteen. And actually, so did he. Whether it was a platonic love he’d recognised or something more — he told you all the time. Forever the emotional soul, Johnny. “I love you, y’know, kid.” Even though you were the same age. “You’re the one darlin’, marriage!” All slurred whenever you’d picked him up from a drunken night out, allowing him to crash in your bed.
He was a softy, really.
Again. Not that it was a secret.
You loved the way his eyes turned soft whenever listening to you, always finding yours in a room full of people. The hand he instinctively placed on your lower back when walking you through a crowd. His dirty cackle. The smile he produced enough to cover for both of you, the story-teller in him and the proud compliments he gracefully gave you in public.
But Johnny loved even more about yourself.
He loved your attitude and the way you stood up for yourself. ‘Bite n Fight’ as he liked to call it. He loved your eyes and how expressive they were, your brows that never failed to host a frown you weren’t even aware of. Each and every one of your habits, ones he’d always take for granted before leaving for months at a time. Your gorgeous smile and that dip on your bottom lip that was only reserved for his. Your roaming hands, the way they wandered up toward his hair whenever you’d kiss him deeply, pulling at the roots lightly but still tight enough to provoke a growl from him.
He just loved you.
So that night last Summer when he’d finally got down on one knee and fumbled his way through a speech, making himself (and you) laugh in the process. It was fucking emotional. “I ‘adn’t prepared one.” He’d smile with his teeth together, lifting his shoulders up toward his neck in laughter. “Yes or no. Christ, my knee can’t handle this.”
“Yeah. Yes, obviously yes.” You waved your hands in a gesture for him to stand up, laughing loudly into the night sky when he had lifted you up and kissed all over your neck.
Soulmates were an odd concept.
You never thought you’d meet yours, not until Johnny had stuck around and practically taught you the definition of the word over years. Landing the MacTavish name and unlocking endless boring stories about his family history and the clan.
Although, you’d be lying to say you didn’t enjoy the way his face lit up when telling you about it all. As if you weren’t Scottish yourself, and hadn’t heard his stories over a hundred times.
“You’re no even listening, mate.” He’d quirk a brow, stretching over the table to bosh your flat palms with his own.
“Don’t fuckin’ mate me. And I do listen, thanks. All Highland and…” You’d drag out the last letter before a long pause. “Stuff.”
“Yer a minx.” He’d push a hand through your hair to purposely mess it and wind you up, receiving a smack to his still outstretched palm. Loud laugh filling the room as well as your heart.
What about the reader facefucking 141 with her cunt? Pushing and rubbing her cunt all over their faces. Hmm?👀👀👀👀👀👀
your slick coating their face in a thin sheen, their tongue messily sucking on your cunny. moaning and whimpering into your wetness, your taste intoxicating and addicting, pumping their cock whilst eating you out. saliva dripping onto your thighs and cunt, pumping their hard and drooling cock in one hand, the other wrapped around your thigh, your hands pushing them closer and closer to your soaken pussy.
hands gasping at their hair, ghost's mouth sloppily inhaling your liquids, sweet essence and taste lingering on his pink tongue, his hand squeezing and grasping at your pink, pretty panties he'd tore off your skin. soap's mowhawk becoming messy and tangled, your nails grazing at his scalp, soft locks between your fingers. his fingers pumped inside your wet hole, panting and sucking on your juices, eyes fucked out and lazy, drunk off your taste :(
price's beard becoming soaked and wet, your cunny leaking and squirting onto his face. your wetness layered his skin, rubbing your cunt along his face and grinding against his mouth, tongue licking and sucking on your pussy, his fingers pinching your nipples. gaz's veiny, large cock leaking onto the bedsheets, his hands tied and bound behind his back whilst you forced his head further into your tight cunt. grunting and growling against your skin, tongue grazing and lapping at you, eyes becoming glossy with desperation, his heavy, full balls became painful and tight, eyes filled with desire and want. :((