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multi-fxndom446 · 6 months

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All I ask

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Reader

Summary: you and kyle try to contain the feelings you have for each other all while living together.

Warnings: none it’s so fluffy. Roommates to lovers, basically best friends to lovers. There’s mention of blood near the end but not extensive.

Word count: 5k

God I hope you guys like this one I changed the ending like 5 thousand times so honestly please love it or I’ll cry.

“You’ve never learned how to dance?!”

Kyle laughed at the way you looked at him. Mouth open in surprise while the knife you were just using to cut some vegetables with was practically pointing in his direction almost in accusation.

“No, I’ve never exactly had the time. Yknow army and all?” You scoffed at his reply and turned back to your cutting board while he grabbed a glass of water.

He wanted to help you cook dinner but you quickly shut down the idea the moment he stepped into the kitchen not that long ago. Saying something about him being home a few weeks already and this was the first time you had a chance to cook him a meal.

You could almost get used to the domestic feeling of it all you almost have on more then one occasion before you had to remind yourself..he’s just a roommate.

Someone who had come to you almost two years ago now asking for the extra bedroom you had. You were desperate at the time, your old roommate had left without warning and you were left with only two weeks to find someone.

So when this rather nice military man came to you asking if it was still available you were more then happy to say yes. It helped he did look rather handsome but who’s asking.

He told you in his interviewing process how he really wouldn’t be here as much but he would keep up with the rent. You remember asking him why he was even getting a place and he mentioned family nearby he wanted to stay close too.

Didn’t mention the family he was talking about was his Captain who regularly stayed at the base that wasn’t to far from you. He didn’t mention it until about 6 months later.

“You really need to learn how to do that.” You mentioned while you dumped all the veggies into a pot on the stove. “How are you gonna whoo any girl you find attractive in those bars you and your friends go to?”

Kyle went silent at your words and it made you glance over to him. He wasn’t looking at you though his gaze seemed further away like there was something he wanted to say but held himself back.

“Can you get the chicken?” His eyes snapped to you when you called for him again. He quickly nodded and made his way to the fridge where he paused.

“Uh.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. “What? What is it?” You wiped your hands while walking closer to see what he was looking at.

It was the chicken you bought not that long ago but he had a cringe on his face. “This is expired.” You gaped at him and snatched the package from his hands.

“No way! I just bought-“ but as you turned it you saw it, clear as day. It expired last week. “That no good meat department man sold me bad chicken!”

Kyle laughed whole heartedly behind you and while you were annoyed at the situation you couldn’t deny the way his laugh filled the void you felt when he was gone.

You looked up at him with a frown and it only made him laugh harder. He reached for the phone, dialing a few numbers while he went to the stove and shut off the burner.

“What are you doing?” You were disappointed. You had been planning this dinner since he returned a few weeks ago and it just all went down the drain.

Kyle was still smiling at you when you walked past him to the trash bag to throw the chicken away. “Ordering pizza.” You turned to him with a thumbs up and let him order while you cleaned the rest of your unnecessary mess.

Awhile later you and Kyle found yourselves on the couch, pizza long gone. Now it was just the two of you drinking whatever alcohol he had leftover while he told you funny stories about his task force.

Things he could tell you, most of them being stuff they got up to on their downtime. You surmised awhile ago that when he and this ‘soap’ were together they caused the most trouble.

You loved listening to him talk, to see the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of the people who had become his family. It didn’t mean it hurt any less when he would leave but you knew what you agreed too. You just never thought you were going to fall in love with him in the process.

“There’s one thing about Price that everyone knows and it’s not to mess with the cigars.” He held up his hand in contemplation, “okay two things, his cigars or his hat. Completely off limits. I thought he was gonna wring Soaps neck when he grabbed it and took off. Never seen that man run faster in my life.”

The brief silence was cut short when Kyles phone started buzzing and suddenly the carefree look on his face hardened. It was so fast, if you weren’t used to it by now you may have been shocked.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile as he stood, “I’ll be right back.” He muttered, setting down his beer.

You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You already knew what he was being called in for. Since moving in you’ve memorized his ringtones and this one was for when his Captain called him, and his captain never called unless it was to tell him about a new mission.

You learned a lot about him from the short time you’ve lived together even when he was gone for a lot of it. You memorized his routines. Almost all of them.

When he came home from long missions you knew he’d be so tired he would kick his shoes off at the door instead of putting them inside because he would clean them of the dirt and mud the next morning. He was always so tidy, you told him multiple times he can leave things around but he always laughed you off.

You honestly wish he would leave things around. Make his mark on the apartment so it didn’t feel so lonely.

You were so deep in thought you didn’t notice when Kyle came back into the room, you never had. The man walked like he was floating. He could see the disappointment in your gaze and it made his heart hurt.

He tapped his phone against his palm a few times, gaining your attention. He stood there for a few more minutes just thinking before he tossed his phone on the couch and walked over to you with his hand held out.

You glanced at him in confusion but he only smiled. “You said someone has to teach me how to dance right? Then come on teach me.” Instantly a smile spread across your face and you eagerly took his hand in yours.

“Okay Mr. Garrick.” He only laughed at you while you quickly scrolled through your phone to find a playlist of some of your favorite songs. “You gotta loosen up first okay? You look nervous so just don’t?”

You grabbed his hands and the two of you danced around goofily for the next several songs. Kyle on multiple occasions would spin you around, laughing–telling you it was the only move he was confident in.

At some point he spun you around so many times you all but collapsed into his arms, laughing. You felt like your head was spinning but you were having the best time of your life.

It wasn’t until the next song started that you realized the situation you were in. Kyle had his arms wrapped tightly around you like he was keeping you from falling to the ground and you were practically pressed against his chest.

You coughed slightly just to get his attention and immediately he loosened his hold but didn’t completely let go of you just enough for you to situate yourself. “Okay now for the real deal. This is where you’d get all the ladies so watch and learn.”

He allowed you to move his hands to where they needed to be, one on your waist and the other holding loosely onto your other hand. “Since you seemed to like spinning me so much this one is the perfect way to do it.” He only nodded at you as you both began to take small steps.

He moved with you which didn’t surprise you in the slightest he was always a fast learner. You were watching the floor to keep from making eye contact with him but it didn’t help that you could feel the heat of his palm on the small of your back.

He gently let your waist go to spin you, this time he made sure not to spin you an extensive amount of times. But instead of spinning you all the way back around to face him he spun you until your back was facing him and the hand holding yours came down across your collarbones to pull you gently to his chest while his other hand went back to holding your waist.

You felt your breathe still when you realized what happened. Your heart felt like it was beating a mile and minute, so fast you couldn’t even tell if you could feel his heart doing the same.

You felt his breathe on the side of your neck and then you felt his lips skim the shell of your ear. You almost wondered if he knew what he was doing or if this was just instinctual.

“S-so that’s definitely a way to impress a girl.” You said, swallowing thickly when you felt the hand on your waist move down to your hip where he squeezed a little tighter like he was trying to ground himself.

You felt his lips leave your ear but you could also feel the deep breathe he took–his chest rising and falling behind you. “Kyle?” You whispered softly and his arm across your chest flexed against you.

He took one more deep breathe before loosening his hold and letting you slip from his arms but he kept one hand still grasped in his. You felt your face heat up and if he noticed he didn’t mention it, instead he gave your hand a small squeeze. “Sorry, let’s continue.”

His voice sounded rough like it hurt him to let you go. You watched him for a moment but he couldn’t hold your gaze. He had you pressed so close to him, if it were up to him he would’ve never let you go but he knew he had to. This was just supposed to be a fun teaching moment he couldn’t turn it into something more.

Then the song came to an end and a few seconds later ‘All I ask’ by Adele started to play. You took a few steps closer to him again, “okay now this next one may be how you get a girl to fall for you.” You joked.

You moved both his hands to your waist and he pulled you closer almost instantly while yours went to wrap around his neck. The moment felt so intimate when he finally looked you in the eyes.

‘-if this is my last night with you

Hold me like I’m more then just a friend’

You felt him shudder against you when you started tickling the back of his neck. He searched your eyes when one of your hands moved from behind his head to cup the side of his jaw.

His whole world felt like it stood still when you looked at him like that, like he was your whole world. Like he was the most precious thing that you wanted to hold close. If you just said the words he would let you hold him as long as you wanted.

‘-give me a memory I can use.

Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do.’

He could see it in the way you looked at him that you were searching for something. For comfort? He wasn’t sure until he realized just how close you both were now and his arms held tighter onto you.

This was so much worse than having your back to him. Because now he had no way of calming himself down. Not when he could see every detail about you so close to him.

His thumbs rubbed soothing circles in your waist while he moved closer to you. He was so close now you could feel his breathe on your lips and you wanted nothing more then to close the distance completely.

You felt your breathe hitch when you saw how intensely he was looking at you. It was like he could see right through you, like he could see everything you were feeling, everything you’ve ever tried to hide from him.

You could feel his lips graze yours now as well as the way his hands moved. One hand was pressed to your lower back and another at your upper back like he was trying to keep you from slipping away this time.

Both your hands were now resting softly at his neck while your gaze flicked between his eyes and his lips. When you looked at him though you realized he wasn’t doing much better.

His breathing seemed to be more ragged and his hands tensed against you as if he was holding himself back.

‘-it matters how this ends

Cause what if I never love again?’

You both were tiptoeing the line that was drawn between you the moment he moved in. One of you moving just a centimeter closer just to pull back slightly.

Your fingers were skimming his jaw line softly, reveling in the way he tensed at your touch. You were a hair's breadth away from each other when you heard his phone ding with an incoming text.

You pulled apart instantly as if pulled from a trance. You were still in his arms but now a safe distance away from his lips and he moved his hands back down to your waist slowly.

He watched you glance behind him to the couch where his phone was lit up. “When do you leave?” You asked quietly while you both continued to sway softly side to side.

“Tomorrow.” You nodded sadly. “I’ll be gone awhile. This one sounded serious. Try not to miss me to much yeah?”

It was meant to be a joke and you could see it in the way he tried to give you a soft smile but all you could do was frown. “I always miss you.” You muttered.

He sighed and brought his hand to the back of your head to pull you closer to him so he could leave a kiss on your hairline. Muttering a soft “I know.”

You continued to sway long after the song was over and what felt like long after the night had ended. You spent as much time as you possibly could with him because you knew tomorrow morning you would be holding onto him as if that would get him to stay. It wasn’t like he held onto you just as tight wishing he wasn’t leaving.

“Be careful.” You would tell him as he left and he’d give you a cheeky grin and kiss you on the cheek as he rushed out the door before replying.

“Always for you.”

It wouldn’t be until months later that the mission would actually finally finish up. It was a very top secret one so he wasn’t able to talk to you, though those were quite a bit of his missions.

He thought about you almost daily. The last night you spent together dancing was something that got him through a lot of tough spots while he was away.

It helped especially when his job required him to see such dark spots in the world he could always recall a memory where you were the light and it never failed to make him remember just exactly what he was fighting for.

Before you came into his life there were some day where he had a hard time understanding the difference between good and bad. Some days he even considered himself to be a bad guy, for letting innocent people get killed because he was too slow to stop a threat.

Other days he couldn’t understand where to draw the line like his Captain had told him and he would get lost in his own head.

It was price that told him to go find an apartment off base because he could see the way it was effecting him to be there all the time. So really he had his Captain to thank yet blame for ever meeting you.

He remembered the first few weeks you started living together, it was awkward at the time but now was a cherished memory of his he came back to often. There had been so many times you apologized about any little mess you made just because you saw how tidy he was but he always waved you off with a smile.

He remembered all the shopping trips you went on together or how you would build furniture together. More like you read him the instructions and he finished it all in under twenty minutes.

He remembered the gradual time spent getting to know each other. The time he spent slowly but surely opening up to you about things and the way you did as well. Even if he spent a lot of time away he knew almost everything about you.

It’s safe to say you were the only thing on his mind as the mission wrapped up and he along with Ghost and Soap went to a bar nearby to unwind when in reality all he wanted to do was go straight home just so he could see you and hug you again.

“So when’re you gonna introduce us to this ‘roommate’ of yours Gaz?” Soap asked after they finished there first round of drinks.

Kyle laughed and played with the bottle in his hand, trying to ignore the way his face suddenly felt hot at the insinuation. “Don’t know. And she is just a roommate.” Ghost and Soap shared a look.

“Seriously?” Ghost asked and Kyle nodded in confirmation. Ghost grunted in disbelief. “There’s no way. You talk about this girl way to much for her to be just a roommate.”

“Gaz..” soap held his hand up, interrupting whatever Kyle was about to say. “You’ve talked about this girl almost everyday for a year and a half now. And how long have you been living together?”

“Almost two years.” He mumbled playing with the rim of his beer. “We’re coming up on the end of the lease again in a few months.”

“And I bet you haven’t thought about leaving that apartment huh? I don’t think it’s even crossed yer mind.” Kyle rolled his eyes at Soap and pushed away his beer.

He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Just grow a pair and tell her you love her already.” Ghost grumbled, “save the rest of us from the sad puppy dog eyes you get every time you talk about her.”

“Or you could introduce us, who knows maybe she’d like a Scottish man.” Soap teased as he nudged Kyles shoulder.

Kyle leveled him with a glare that only served to make Soap laugh harder than he had been. “This is why I won’t.” He wouldn’t admit that he was nervous about the idea of you meeting his task force. What if you found them scary? Or worse, found one of them attractive and asked him for their number? He couldn’t handle that.

“As enlightening as this conversation has been, I’m gonna head home.” Kyle threw a few bills from his wallet onto the counter and slid his beer over to Soap who greedily took it after he finished his second one not even a minute earlier. “I’ll see you boys later.”

“Hopefully with some news!” Soap called out to him as he exited the bar making Kyle shake his head laughing.

It didn’t take him long to make it back to the apartment and he couldn’t deny the way his heart sped up the moment he could see one of the lights in the apartment was on.

He didn’t call to tell you he was coming home like he got in the habit of doing. He wanted to surprise you this time especially when the last he spoke to you was almost a month ago and he told you he wasn’t sure when he would be coming back.

So after a few minutes of gathering himself, he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. It was oddly quiet when you were alone and he almost wondered if you were asleep and just forgot to turn off the lights.

“Y/n?” He called out into the quiet apartment.

“Kyle?!” Was what he heard back followed by a loud crash and glass shattering.

He dropped everything he was holding at the door and ran in the direction of the noise, completely forgetting about his boots he had yet to take off at the door.

All he knew was that you could be in danger or you could’ve been hurt and he felt his whole world came crashing down slightly.

For a moment it felt like his world all at once stopped moving and started spinning too fast. He felt sick.

“Y/n?!” He rounded the corner to the kitchen and saw you on the ground clutching your head. A few mugs were shattered on the floor around you. “What happened?”

“Kyle.” You breathed the moment you opened your eyes to look at him. You stared at him with such relief he felt like he may just collapse next to you. “Uh-I fell.”

“I see that. What were you doing?” He asked while he carefully helped you up and slowly maneuvered you away from the shattered pieces on the ground.

“Well I was just trying to make hot chocolate before you scared the absolute hell out of me.” You winced, one hand still clutching your head where he finally noticed some blood trickling down your wrist. “It’s not my fault you put all the good bugs so high up.”

“Good mugs?” He looked down at the glass and then to the cupboard. “You mean my mugs?”

“They’re the good ones.” You grumbled. “They hold more hot chocolate. I’m sorry for breaking them.”

He couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled your hand away from your head to examine the damage. “I don’t care about the mugs. I can get new ones but it looks like one hit you pretty hard. Let me help you get it cleaned up”

He ushered you towards the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen where he knew he had the med kit stashed. Without saying a word he grabbed hold of your waist and lifted you up to sit on the counter before he went to get the med kit and a washcloth.

“When did you get back?” You called out to him as he ran to the spare closet in the hall to grab one of the many wash clothes.

“Earlier today. I just got back from the bar with Ghost and Soap.” You couldn’t help the way your heart skipped at the mention of a bar. “But I just wanted to come home. I’m sure they’re still there.”

“No pretty ladies you wanted to impress with your amazing new dance skills?” You joked when he came back over to you to start cleaning the blood from your cut.

“Not at the bar, no. There’s one I’ve been trying to impress already.” You swallowed as you watched him work intently. His brows furrowed in concentration. “The cut doesn’t look too bad so you shouldn't need stitches but please if you need something moved from the top shelf just ask me.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and let him continue to work in silence. He was standing between your legs and the only noise was his occasional rummaging through the med kit.

He glanced down at you every now and then but you now seemed determined to not look him in the eye and he couldn’t help but frown.

His fingers work softly across the cut on your head making sure he wasn’t going to hurt you anymore then you already hurt yourself but he couldn’t help the way his mind wandered to ghost and soaps words.

“You okay?” You asked finally when you noticed the way his frown seemed to deepen by the minute.

“Hm?” Immediately he was smiling again and nodding like nothing happened. “Yeah don’t worry. Just focused.”

You hummed in understanding before the silence fell over you again. “Did everything go okay with work? You didn’t get hurt too bad did you?”

He laughed, “unless you count falling out a helicopter as bad then no.” He thought it was funny until he saw the absolute shock on your face and his words seemed to settle over him. “Just kidding. Just kidding that didn’t happen. I’m okay!”

“You fell out of a helicopter?!” You yelled, wincing when you accidentally moved which made his fingers slip against your cut.

“I’m fine! It was a joke I promise.” You didn’t seem to believe him but decided to let it go when he kept insisting. “Everything turned out okay. I'm just happy to be home. They’re all done.”

He moved his hands to rest on the counter you were sitting on, caging you in. He noticed the way your eyes flickered between both of his and he decided for once his team was right. He had to tell you. He didn’t know if he could live another day not knowing if you felt the same way.

“Kyle?” You asked when once again he went silent but this time he had a soft smile on his face while he looked down at you. It made your heart race.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” He said softly, reaching one hand up to move a stray piece of hair behind your ear before bringing it back down to the counter. “I tried to keep it to myself but I don’t think it’s possible for me to do that anymore.”

“Keep what to yourself?” You whispered, heart beating fast when he leaned down a little closer to you.

He looked into your eyes like he was searching for any sort of hesitation, any sort of sign that he should stop or pull back now. But he found none. He leaned in again, the memory of the two of you dancing while also this close came rushing to him again and he smiled slightly. “I think I’m in love with you.”

You looked at him in surprise. It was your turn to search for any sort of lie but you knew Kyle would never lie to you about something like that. “Really?” He nodded and you could feel his lips barely just touch yours before he pulled back a little like he was still waiting for you to reject him. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

And that was all he needed to hear before he closed the distance entirely. His lips finally smashing into yours while one of his hands went up to cup your cheek and the other to your waist to pull you closer to him. You were practically on the very edge of the counter, your legs wrapped around his waist to make sure you didn’t fall off entirely.

He kissed you like he was a starving man deprived of oxygen for the last 2 years. Every emotion he harbored for you was poured into that kiss as his hand tangled itself into the strands of your hair.

His lips felt softer than you imagined and it was better than anything your mind could come up with. Your hands found purchase on his chest as you tried to steady yourself. From this spot you could feel the way his heart was beating just as fast as yours.

When he finally pulled away he didn’t move far. His lips were still just a few centimeters away; he just moved far enough away so you could catch your breathe. He could feel you practically gasping and it made his hands wander to your thighs that were still wrapped around his waist.

He was mesmerized by the way your chest rose and fell with the deep breathes you took. The way your cheeks had the prettiest shade of pink dusting them. The way your eyes continued to look at him like he was the only thing you were seeing.

He was sure he looked the same to you. He knew right then that he would do absolutely anything for you and wouldn’t regret it a single bit.

“Well that’s definitely another way of getting a girl to fall for you.” You joked as you reached your arms up to circle around his neck and pull him closer. “But now you’re not allowed to show anyone else those dance moves.”

“I only ever wanted to learn for you anyways.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips again. “Would you say you’re impressed?”

“Thoroughly.”

He laughed and pulled away from you after stealing yet another kiss. “Well let me get changed, then clean the glass and I can show you just how much I’ve improved.” He winked you at, smiling when he heard your laughter carry through the apartment

He guessed he owed his entire task force now.

#kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mwii x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick imagine

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firsttimewriter92 · 1 year

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Schilling for your thoughts Part 1

König x f!reader

Summary: You meet a peculiar man at your favourite bookstore and after talking to him a little bit, you wonder if you´ll ever see him again

Part 2 here Part 3 here

Word count: 2.538

Warnings: bit awkward, lots of fluff, German speaking, light cursing, pining König, military talk

Authors note: Yes, I am one of those who believe that König is a ginger, freckled, mighty sweetheart. (I was trying to find this amazing fanart I saw of him that basically started this fic, but I can´t find it again!! I´m sad; It´s so good) Only slightly awkward but he knows how to let someone know he´s interessted. He´ll only unleash the beast on the battlefield, that´s it. I will die on this hill!! Social anxiety, yes. But he´s not completely incapable of interacting with a person<3

Happily you skipped through the door of your favourite little bookstore. Bell chiming over your head, you saw the owners head appear from underneath the counter, instantly smiling at you.

“I just put them on the shelve,” she winked at you. “Shelve 12, row 10.” Rushing by her you squealed a thank you in her direction and hurried into the back of the store. You had been waiting for this book for ages. When you found out your favourite author was releasing a new book after almost 6 years of abstinence, you immediately let Lucy the owner know. This morning she called you excitedly, telling you the book finally arrived.

You made your way over to the back of the store. It was packed with ceiling high shelves, little tables and armchairs scattered across the room, most of them in front of the three large windows. You loved spending your time in this controlled area of chaotic furniture choices, colours and smells of coffee, old and new books and slightly dusty air.

Usually you favoured this establishment not just because of the atmosphere and Lucy´s motherly warm nature but also because most of the time, it was pleasantly empty and quiet. Quiet it was this time as well but you couldn´t help but notice the man sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the windows. A huge volume in his hands, his face almost buried in it. Something about the way he was sitting seemed odd to you. Not being able to put your finger on what it was exactly you shrugged mentally and made a beeline towards shelve 12.

Grumbling a little you remembered the row number Lucy gave you. 10. Great, you thought. You didn´t have to hide them that well so I could be the first one to get a copy, Lucy. Craning your neck you looked for the bright red and silver book back you knew your newest little treasure would have. There! You grinned and hopped a little as you whipped your head around the room, looking for the step ladder you knew Lucy kept here somewhere. Not being able to find it immediately your impatience took over. With a little grunt you began pushing one of the armchairs towards the shelve. “Damn it, Lucy. Why do you have such an obsession with antient furniture?” You cursed quietly under your breath. “So heavy!”

“You need help with that, Miss?” A quiet voice asked behind you. You whipped around and saw that the man you noticed before had lowered the picture book and was looking at you curiously and maybe a little amused. You weren´t that short but it was undeniable that you wouldn’t be able to reach your object of desire unless you managed to move the heavy chair. Grinning a bit flustered you stopped pushing the piece of furniture and sheepishly you answered. “If you wouldn´t mind. This chair is really heavy. I don´t know where Lucy put the ladder and without it, these books up there are out of reach.”

The man’s eyes twinkled for a second as his gaze fluttered upwards towards the last row. “Not necessarily” he said with a friendly, tight lipped smile. The next moment you found out why you thought his sitting looked so odd in the plush chair. He bent his knees to get up and they definitely rose above the angle of his hips. You tried not to stare, really, you did, as the man rose, rose and rose higher and higher until a massive body unfolded from the chair, standing, stretching for a second and then slumping in on itself almost comically. His shoulders hunched and head slightly bent downwards he made his way over to you, observing your reaction with a careful glance. You understood why immediately. 6´10. That was your best guess. With a warm feeling in your belly you noticed that he was trying to make himself smaller.

Don’t comment on his height, don’t comment on his height, you thought and tried to school your features. He´s probably heard it all! He seemed to appreciate your silence and little smile.

As he stood next to you, you noticed that your head didn´t even reach shoulder. He was looking at the books at the highest point and you got the chance to observe him a little closer. His hair was a fascinating colour. A rich auburn glow leaning heavily towards red. He had tied it into a low bun at the base of his neck. Little whisps of it escaping and curling against his temple and forehead. Fascinated you saw that his eyebrows and even his long lashes were the same shade. They framed slightly droopy eyes the colour of…Blue? Green? You couldn’t really tell from your angle. His nose was long and slightly curved, accentuating a full upper lip and a strong, stubbled jaw. He had an almost regal look to him. That was if he didn’t stand there slouching.

You hadn’t realized while appreciating his features that he had slightly turned his face towards you. Smiling shily he quirked an eyebrow, seemingly waiting for one of the comments he was definitely used to. When he realized you weren´t going to comment his smile stretched into a boyish grin you just had to reciprocate. Doing that you quickly noticed two more things about him. His canines stood out sharper than you had ever seen on a person, giving him a bit of a wolfish look that for some reason made you heart stutter in your chest. The other thing was a faint white scar reaching from his plump upper lip up to his nostril. You recognised the scar of an early on fixed cleft lip and knew that they tended to pull the lip slightly upward on one side. In his case though, especially when he grinned like that it wasn’t that noticeable. It gave him character.

He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and snapped you out of your little stupor. Catching his eyes you saw how an adorable dust of pink covered his cheeks and the tips of his ears, making the scattering of freckles around his nose even more enticing. Stop. Staring. At. Him.

He nodded his head towards the books and reached out one of his surprisingly bulgy arms. A long finger tapped the back of a black and grey one. Looking down at you questioningly and not saying a word he quirked an eyebrow. Biting your tongue and smiling mischievously you shook your head. He nodded and studied the books again, his finger gliding over the spines of them. Halting again at a brown, faux leather bound massive copy, he again gave you a quick questioning look. This time however with a playful smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth. Liking his little game more and more you crossed your hands behind your back and began to lean back and forth on your heels, again shaking your head. He hummed and huffed in mock annoyance making you honest to god, giggle. You weren’t the giggling type! What the hell was going on?!

You had already realised that he wasn’t a man of many words so you played along for another two attempts of his until he finally tapped on the spine of your desired book (he damn well knew which one you wanted from the start). You nodded excitedly and he chuckled deep in his throat awakening goosebumps all over your arms as a result. He pulled the book out and slowly handed it to you. You took it in your hands carefully and full of awe, eyes sparkling as you brushed your fingers over the name of your favourite story teller. “Thank you very much” you breathed and gave him a brilliant smile. Again the tips of his ears went bright red but his voice was strong when he said “No worries. Happy to help you.” Only now you noticed the slight accent. Interesting, you thought.

Pressing the book happily to your chest you looked up into his face. “I see you like medieval blacksmithing” you said and pointed to the huge book that he left on one of the tables. He stood a little more erect and nodded his head quickly. “Yes” he said excitedly as you both walked over to the pair of soft chairs. “It´s so fascinating. Hardly believable what they accomplished without modern technology. Beautiful craftsmanship too. Look here”, he opened the book and pointed at the depiction of a beautiful Viking sword. His enthusiasm warmed your body and something in your chest began to pull yourself towards him. Without realising it, you both had sat down next to each other, the huge volume in the middle. Turning page after page, he showed you many more fascinating facts and pictures, all the while talking animatedly.

It seemed like you had to revoke your statement from before. He was a talker. Once he was comfortable.

Time seemed to stand still. From time to time you glanced at him as he spoke softly about different types of iron compositions. Although his height was intimidating, he was far from that. At least here with you. You guessed he was in his late twenties or maybe early thirties. When he showed you a particular picture he moved the book closer, leaning over the arm of the chair closer to you.

He smelled divine. Musky, yet sweet. Earthy and somehow crisp. A serene scene developed behind your eyes. An early spring morning, wet with dew clinging to sweet smelling crocuses. Only the heavy fog wafting over the ground an indication that winter was still holding on. And while you looked at his profile your skin erupted in pleasant chills as you imagined the first clear rays of sunshine breaking through said fog, illuminating the delicate process of nature’s awakening.

It was like his presence and voice opened the floodgates of your own imagination. You felt yourself becoming helplessly attracted to him. The pull in your chest becoming stronger by the minute.

Suddenly you weren’t looking at his profile anymore. He had turned his head, looking into your eyes. Silence spread between you. A comfortable one. Enamoured you tried to figure out the colour of his eyes. Blue, you noticed. With a hint of green. Seafoam. Or maybe not? Jade green with a dusting of light blue. Maybe that was it. You found it impossible to look away. And so did he. His gaze was on you. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your eyes again. They looked curious and gentle.

None of you realised how much you had leaned into each other. With your noses almost touching, a blaring alarm suddenly made both of you jump back into your seats, hearts hammering wildly. Almost panicked he fished through the pockets of his jeans until he pulled out his phone.

His eyes went comically wide and in a flurry of powerful limbs he clambered upright. “Oh verdammt, verdammt” (damn)he cursed as he pulled a worn leather jacket over his broad shoulders. Your heart fluttering when you recognized the words. “I´m so sorry. I´m terribly late. I have to go.” You felt your stomach drop in a weird way. Walking towards the front door he gave you an almost pained look full of hesitation. You stood there almost as helpless, not wanting him to leave.

“Wie ist dein Name?” (What´s your name?) you asked a little hesitant. His jaw went slack and he gave you a look of surprise and pure adoration before showing you his lovable canines again in a grin and answered. “Du kannst König zu mir sagen, Maus.” (You can call me König, mouse)

You gave him another beautiful smile, touched your chest and gave him your own name. He rolled it around on his tongue and you were sure he could see the tremor in your hands. Your face felt like it was on fire, your knees weak. With a lift of his hand and a small wave he opened the door to the store and turned around one last time. “Ich hoffe wir sehen uns wieder, ___ -Maus.” (I hope we´ll see each other again, ___- mouse)

True to the little nickname he gave you, you squeaked beyond flustered but nodded your head enthusiastically. His eyes blitzed happily and then he turned and began jogging down the street in a hurry.

Your mind an absolute mess and head swirling you turned towards the counter and swallowed.

One elbow parched onto the wood, her head leaned into her hand, Lucy tapped the acrylic nails of her other hand slowly on the counter giving you the most shit eating grin you had ever seen on her.

“Don´t” you said with a sigh. She blew a disbelieving raspberry and started laughing. “Are you kidding me?! Of course I will!! What in the shit was that!? Since when do you speak German and who´s horse was that?!?!?! My sweet child, you two were so into each other you didn’t even notice me over here!” Her wide brown eyes stared you down while you tried to hide your flustered expression.

Walking over to her you leaned over the counter and lay your head on it. Lucy still tried to control her giggles. “I don´t know, okey? He was just…he got my book off the shelve and then…medieval blacksmithing…Grin...EYES!” you groaned out almost exasperatedly.

“Oh deary, I noticed. You were back there for almost two hours. I thought for a moment you ditched me without paying.” You stood up straight again and gave her an unamused look. “You know I´d never do that.” Lucy nodded good naturedly. “Of course I do but seriously, how is it you speak German?”

“I don’t speak that much, honestly. Most of it is self-taught. I just…like it” you shrugged. “Well, HE obviously did too” Lucy winked, her impossibly white teeth shining. You groaned again but couldn’t hide the massive grin.

“You need to come into the shop every day now in case he comes back” your friend said while pouring you a cup of coffee.

With a huff your heart sank again. “I can´t,” you said in a small voice. “I don´t have any more vacation days this year and they really need me on base.”

Lucy tutted and looked a bit miffed. “You know, one would think that a military base would have more than one chief mechanic for their helis and shit.” You snorted at her offended tone and your heart grew several sizes for your friend.

“Tell you what” she said in a determined voice. “Next time he comes in, I´ll give him your number. NO buts!” she held her finger in your face and swirled it, crunching up her adorable button nose. “It´s not like he´s easy to overlook.”

You grinned and nodded your head in defeat. It wasn’t like you didn’t want him to have your number. Of course you did. But with all your duties on base, you didn’t know if you would have the chance to give it to him personally. So you just hoped that the man named König would somehow stumble into your life again. As adorably as he did this afternoon.

_________________________________________________________

Weeeeeeell? What do we think? Part 2? I do have an idea for a mini series so let me know if you woul´d like to read that ;) There will be smut if you like. Let me know if you´d like to be tagged and check out my account for more spicy and fluffy stories.

Thank you very much for reading <3 If you´d like please interact with this post. Comments, liks and reblogs always make my day. Your opinion matters greatly. Only with feedback can I improve :) I´d also like to thank TikTok for feeding me König content so religiously that I had no other chance than to write this

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cariadlovescodwomen · 6 months

Text

i’m so embarrassed to attempt this, please don’t bully me, LOL

spending the night w/ valeria (fem!reader)

warning(s): slight suggestiveness, none that i’m aware of

i sincerely apologise for any grammatical or linguistic errors! this is short because i am not at all confident in my ability to write

“i know i’ve been gone a while, but, my, you’re needy, cariña.” she teased, a smirk resting on her face. you mumbled into her chest as you wrapped your arms around her torso. she played with your hair, a rare genuine smile as she watched you move around.

you picked yourself up from her chest, and stared into her eyes, admiring her beauty. your eyes drifted down to her toned arms, running your hand over her tattoos. she laid against the bed frame, letting you continue. you pulled your hand away and pulled yourself into her lap.

you wrapped your arms around her neck, hers snaking around your waist. you rested your forehead against hers, sighing as you relished in her touch. you pulled back, but she pulled you in for a kiss. it started off sweet and soft, but it quickly escalated, as most things with valeria did. but before things could go any further, you pulled back again.

“hm, you can be such a tease.” she chuckled. “well, light teasing won’t hurt you. i think of it as my… revenge, for the loneliness i felt when you were gone.” you laughed softly. “yeah, well, i wouldn’t push it too far, querida. that never goes well for you…” she teased back.

the sight of your smile always made valeria feel things she hadn’t felt before. the negative feelings pushed away as she held you in her arms.

she moved the two of you to be laying down, her strong arms still wrapped around you. the stress of running a cartel is crushing, and you could only imagine what it’s like, but you eased her emotions more than you could know.

valeria’s “el sin nombre” facade was left at the door whenever she came home. intimidating, scary, cruel, callous, all words to describe valeria, but when she’s with you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. while she’s not soft or gentle, she’s not cold or abrasive.

“i love you, val.” you muttered into her chest. she paused. she should be used to this by now, but, gosh, there was something about you, and the way your words made her feel. “…i love you, too, amor.”

as you started drifting to sleep, she watched over you. her mind went to having to leave again soon. she shook her head slightly and closed her eyes. yes, she’d have to leave again, but for now, she’d rather focus on the days she has with you.

(note - i’m not proud of this in the slightest, but i think it’s good enough to post :), once again, i apologise for any grammatical or linguistic errors 😭)

#valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #mwii x reader #cariad tries to write

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simonsdoll · 1 year

Text

every whole counts

Pairing: Ghost x fem! Reader

Warning: NSFW CONTENT AND MDNI

Words: 1550

A/n: Hope y’all like this and enjoy my fellow whores! ❤️

Ghost joined you on a golf course for a date. He really didn’t like being in public with lots of people so golfing out in nature and the windy serene nature was just perfect. Ghost wore a skin tight polo with jeans and you wore a tight polo shirt with a flowy tennis skirt that hugged you in all the right places. On the way to the golf course Ghost would peek glances at you while he drives trying not to make it obvious. While you were walking to yalls spot to golf,Ghost was behind you holding the equipment.

Ghost was eye fucking you the whole time as your hips swayed and the breeze of wind making your skirt flow up revealing your underside. He noticed you were only wearing panties. He was gonna make sure it didn’t happen again. As y’all placed the things down, you and Ghost start setting up and getting yalls things out. Once everything was done Ghost was in position to hit the ball and with a strong swing he hit the ball and sadly didn’t make it in. With a hand to his forehead trying to get a view of where it landed he looked back at you smiling and betting him that you could do better. He chuckled and passed you the golf club.

He never broke eye contact as he saw you bend down to place the ball onto the golf tee. He got a small peak of the curve of your ass and he swallowed deeply and kept his sensuous gaze. You moved back and started getting into position. Your hips swayed back and forth as Ghost was behind you just watching your skirt dance with the gust of wind. With one strong swing you hit the golf ball and made it into the cup whole. You cheered up and down as you won the bet with Ghost at being better at golf than him.

He looked at you in the most deadpan face and couldn’t decide whether he was frustrated that you managed to beat him or how hot you looked when he saw you smile and laugh contagiously. You then walked up to him and asked if he wanted you to show him how to make it in. He nodded and then followed back behind you making sure he paid attention to the words you were saying which was difficult by your choice of wardrobe. You held the golf club and you made him hug you from behind so he can see the form in which he had to be in to get a good swing.

Ghost had his chest to your back and he could feel how hard you were rubbing against him. His erection was getting bigger by the second as you were innocently showing him the way to golfing. Ghost was having a panic attack because he couldn’t keep his composure while near you. “Keep your head down and spread your legs a bit more.” You said as you pushed yourself onto him to show him how much to bend over.

Ghost blushed as he tried to keep himself controlled. You again pushed back into him as you demonstrated the swinging technique you used to make it in. After you were finished demonstrating you turned around and gave him a sweet smile and passed him the golf club. “Make sure to grip it softly and stroke it smooth and you’ll sink it right in the hole.”

Ghost loosely grabbed the club and he did exactly what he did last time. He didn’t even listen to a word you said besides those carnal innuendos. Ghost swung the ball the best he could from the nervousness. As you were both looking in the distance and following the direction of the ball you both noticed that the ball was gone. The ball was nowhere to be seen. Ghost looked back at you and you gave him a shit eating grin. That was his last straw. He was gonna fix your attitude and use that stupid grin of yours and put it to good use.

You both picked up the things and walked your way towards the restrooms for a bathroom break. Ghost kept walking behind you until he walked inside the ladies bathroom with you and shut the door behind him. “Simon you can’t come in here it’s ladies only?!” “ No love I’ve been patient with you and plus it’s a real quiet morning and not a lot of people anyways.” “I’m gonna fuck you till the people out in the fields are hearing you scream my name.” “Get on your knees love.”

You comply as Ghost is fumbling with his belt trying to let out his erection. You stare at him and wait patiently as you have been eyeing him while playing golf. His shirt outlined and defined his muscled physique. Ghost takes out his cock and holds his heavy cock on his left hand pumping it up and down slowly. With his right hand he’s grabbing a fistful of your ponytail and wrapping it around his large hands.

“Be a good girl f’me and open wide princess.” You open your mouth and let him use you how he wanted to. He began thrusting his hips slowly and use your hair to guide you down his shaft. He kept a steady pace and watched you from on top struggling and watching your eyes glisten with tears. He pulled you off him for a breather. “Princess I know it’s a lot but I know you can take it sweetheart.” He shoves his cock back into your mouth again with a much faster pace now.

The sounds of gagging and heavy gruff moans from Ghost fill the room. “F-fuck come on love I’m almost there.” His cock hitting the back of your throat even harder as his body is starting to tense up. You held his thighs for support and they were rock hard. He was about to climax. As drool started to fall on your shirt and his groans we’re getting even louder he thrusts one final time. He spurts heavy and hot strings of cum down your throat. He shoves his cock one more time deeper into your throat to make sure you swallow all of his cum.

He grabs your hair and pulls you off him. You gasp for air and he sees your tears run all the way down your face and lips swollen glazed with his cum. He uses his thumb and glides it on your lips to collect the cum on your lips and he shoves his thumb into your mouth to suck it clean. As you were both catching from yalls breath Ghost picks you up and sits you down on the countertop of the sinks.

He forces your legs open and watches how your panties are soaked now by your arousal. “Only panties f’me, you wanted me to fuck you didn’t you my love?” “Yes Simon please!!” With that Ghost moves your panties to the side and slid his cock inside you. “Ahh fuck Simon your too big!” “But love,who was the pretty cockwhore who decided to wear this to the date?” “And if you laughed at me for not making it in the hole out there, I want you laughing when I stuff your hole and pound you till you can’t fucking laugh anymore.”

Ghost thrusted into you getting you used to his size. You hissed from the way his cock expanded your cunt like nothing else could. His thrusts we’re getting faster and faster by the second. Ghost wasn’t gonna be patient with you. Not after you decided to tease him and make fun of his golfing skills. He kept ramming his cock into you as he groaned and moaned in your ear. Hearing a hint of whimpering as he kisses and sucks hickeys into your neck. You thought this was gonna be a fun and innocent date but I guess you both had a different definition of fun.

He kept pounding into you at a rougher pace and kissed you roughly and trying to get rid of that stupid grin you gave him earlier. “FUCK SIMON!!!” “IM GONNA CUM PLEASE MAKE ME CUM NOW!” He ignored your remark because this was punishment for tempting him and being coquettish towards him during the car ride. He kept fucking you with even more force since he almost felt his orgasm coming. “S-SIMON FUCK!!!” With a few more pounding thrusts Ghost came inside you again with a gruff groan and left your cunt overflowing with his freshly pumped cum.

You fell back onto the mirror behind you and Ghost rested his face between your breasts. You both hyperventilate and get off yalls high, Ghost picks himself up off you and kisses you again but more sensually. He might have gone too rough on you since it’s been awhile. As he breaks the kiss he sees you give him another shit eating grin but as a bliss of satisfaction. He smiles with you again and moves your panties back where they supposed to be to keep his cum from falling out.

He grabs you and places you off off the countertop and he helps you readjust your skirt and your hair. He waits till your ready and he kisses you again sensually. “I’m sorry if I ruined the date babe.” “No love you didn’t, just know what your getting yourself into when you think about wearing that again f’me love.” You give him a cheeky smile and giggle. You hold hands with Ghost as y’all are about to leave. “Hey love, do you think they heard your screams?” “Yeah I think they did, I can hear police sirens. They must’ve thought someone was getting murdered in here.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Check Masterlist for more

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gravesbf · 11 months

Note

So uhh, ghost, Alejandro and König right? Sexy. Speaking of those sexy men, could you do hc of them with their (gn plz) S/O who’s like, always horny? I’m talking like, all damn the time. If not, then have a nice day :)

this is so real

cw: vv brief mention of ghosts past (iykyk) + obvi nsfw

simon "ghost" riley:

☆ i think he'd be a little bit on the lower side libido wise just because of his past with sex, so having a partner that's always horny might make him a little nervous

☆ not necessarily bad nervous though, more so he's nervous that he can't give you what you want. he always looks for ways to please you before himself

☆ 100% a head giver, he's nervous about everything else besides his oral skills ‼️ he gets to work any chance you give him a look

☆ def a thigh grinder though, both ways. his thighs are always free for you without much asking, he might even pull you onto him if you're obvious enough

alejandro vargas:

☆ higher libido than avg, but not nearly as high as you. he's always ready to go though almost all the time

☆ def the type to notice and not say anything though, he might even do the big goofy smile to himself if you start not being able to pay attention during certain things

☆ ass man alejandro agendaa, he's always purposefully being obvious with his staring so you know

☆ does the arms around the waist hug just so he can get handsy without being questioned, says the hard thing against your back is his gun sm 😿

könig:

☆ anxious and horny all the time too, especially when he's right back from a mission. he's pent up and nervous to say anything

☆ matches your sex drive a lot, you just have to start it most of the time unless his anxiety is mild that day. he likes to be ridden imo btw

☆ unironically always hard though, have you seen him?? guaranteed that he'll accept help for his problem all the time, it hass to be painful dude

☆ ranges from soft to rough though, it depends on what you're in the mood for. he accommodates very well :3

#mw2 x reader #mwii x reader #cod x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro x reader smut #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x reader #könig x reader #könig x reader smut #asks #wolfe.req #i think i got lazy at the end but its nmf im cramping 💔💔

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soupsandwich64 · 8 months

Text

Y/N: Bye Rudy! Bye Alejandro!... bye Rudy..

Soap: You said 'bye Rudy' twice...

Y/N: I like Rudy..

#rodolfo parra #rudy parra #rudy x reader #rudy parra x reader #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #COD x reader #Soap x reader #COD men #COD funny #MWII x reader #MWII funny #COD x reader funny #rudy x reader funny #rodolfo parra x reader funny

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curawrites · 1 year

Text

Wolf and Lamb

Graves x fem!Reader

Warnings: dub/non- con, serious power imbalance, gun sucking, gun fucking, unprotected sex, forced breeding, mentions of pregnancy, fuck or die situation, mentions of injury, gross Graves, Graves flirting

Note: This takes place during the Alone mission. C/S = call sign.

This is pure filth and I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THIS! Practice safe sex! 💚

“Well look what we have here…” the attractive southern twang of Graves voice was unmistakable as you herd approaching footsteps.

You took a deep shaky breath, pushing yourself further back into the wall while cradling your injured shoulder. You look up to find Graves towering over you, hand gun firmly held and aimed towards you.

“Fuck you Graves.” You spat, tone dripping in venom.

He looked at your with a quirked brow, “I expected more respect from you C/S..” he said as he took a few steps forward. “I thought you and I had a little thing going~. Thought you’d run away with me~“ he smiled handsomely.

You glared at him, “I’d rather you shoot me in the head.”

“Oh ho ho, spicy one you are, very well then. Guess I’ll just kill y’a.” He said before pulling out a knife, “I’ll make sure to take my time..” he took a step forward.

You coward further into the wall, you really wanted to hate Graves, but part of you still held on to all the longing gazes, the flirty banter, the subtle touches. But you valued you life a lot more that whatever kind of relationship you and Graves had.

Noticing your panic Graves smirked, “Not up for it now, sugar?”

You shot him a glare, he only chuckled before kneeling in front of you.

“I could never dream of killing such a sweet lookin thing like you~” he smirked at you, looking you over pervertedly, “You want to live don’t you C/S?”

You nodded silently at his question.

“Then your going to be a good girl and let me take off all of what’s covering up that pretty body of yours~” he slid the knife back into its rightful place.

You nodded slightly, the guilt and shame already washing over you but mixed with the slight arousal flickering to life inside the pit of your tummy.

He started by taking off your reflective goggles and mask, he took a moment to stroke your cheek, “Knew you were pretty under all this~” he licked his lips before tossing the items to the side.

He continued to take off all your gear and clothes. At long last he took your striped boxers the last piece of clothes off your body, carelessly throwing it to the side before looking over your now naked body.

He wolf whistled, “Look at you..~ such gorgeous body~” he forced your legs open with his own.

Still clutching your poorly bandaged shoulder, you had no strength nor wanted to put up a fight against him. Your legs graciously fell open.

“Fuck.. look at that pretty cunt..~” Graves licked his lips.

You glared daggers into his soul but blushed non the less.

“Don’t look at me like that, sugar~” he smirked before pulling out his gun again.

You watched, glancing up at him suspiciously.

“Now Sargent.. I want you to be a good girl and open you pretty mouth~” he put the gun right at your lips, “and I’m not afraid to shoot.” He warned.

With a glare you opened your mouth and let Graves push his gun into your mouth.

“Atta girl~” he praised making your Pusey flutter at the praise.

You sucked on the gun obediently, gagging softly when Graves thrusts it a bit to far down your throat.

After a few minutes he pulled the gun out of your mouth, the weapon was dripping with your saliva. The after taste of metal lingered in your mouth as you watched him trail the slick gun down your bare torso, all the way down to your wet cunt.

“Graves.” You said as your squirmed to get away.

“Ah, ah, ah..” He warned, “Stay fucking still.” He spat.

He pressed the gun to your clit, moving it in gentle circles sending sparks of pleasure up you spine before trailing it farther down to your opening. He shoved the gun inside you with ease thanks to your spit and slight wetness. You gasped in horror and in shock at the intrusion. He started rubbing your clit while thrusting his gun in and out of your pussy making you moan softly.

The sensation of his gun rubbing against your inner walls was strange and uncomfortable but it was overshadowed by the pleasure building up inside of you thanks to the stimulation on your clit. Graves kissed you sloppily, sucking and nibbling at you bottom lip. You could only mewl and whimper into his mouth.

You came with a loud sob of pleasure, glaring at Graves with tear filled eyes while tears cascaded down you cheeks. You were utterly ashamed that you enjoyed your orgasm.

“There you go, Sugar~ didn’t that feel fucking amazing~” Graves purred stroking away your tears while pulling out the gun from your pussy and shoving it into your mouth again.

He made you clean all your juices from the gun before putting it away in its holster on his belt which he was now unbuckling.

He crawled over you, sucking and kissing your neck and face while rubbing his hard cock in between your slick folds. Your cunt fluttered still recovering from your orgasm.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me C/S~” Graves purred as he played with your tits.

He slid his cock inside you, eliciting a sharp gasp which he silenced by kissing your lips. He was much bigger than you expected, and stretched your cunt deliciously.

“Fuck sugar~ you feel so fucking amazing~” Graves said as he started to thrust inside you.

You blushed completely and utterly embarrassed and flustered by his comment and the obscene noises your slick cunt was making.

His slow thrusts quickly morphed into fast and hard thrust that repeatedly bruised your cervix. Tears continued to run down your cheeks from both pleasure and shame.

“Fuck baby~” he groaned, “M’gonna fucking breed y’a~ gonna give you a sweet baby boy~” his cock twitched inside of you, “no.. I’m gonna give you fucking twins~ two sweet little baby boys~ fuck yeah~” he said as he sighed in pleasure.

Grave’s comments made you pussy tighten around his cock. He let out a soft hiss before pressing your legs to your chest to continue pounding into you.

He rubbed quick circles of your clit, not bothered to be gentle, only wanting you to cream his cock.

When you climaxed you moaned loudly, gripping his shoulders tightly as you pussy squeezed around his cock.

“Fuuuck!~ m’cumming~” he groaned thrusting into you deeply before he flooded your insides with his seed.

The warmth that spread inside you made you let out a soft noise of pleasure.

You and Graves went for two more rounds before he left you in the crumbling home, naked, leaking cum and feeling utterly ashamed and filthy.

You weakly and slowly put on you clothes, you hissed in pain as you moved your shoulder.

Suddenly your radio buzzed, “Ghost to C/S how copy?” Ghost’s gravely voice echoed in the silence.

You grabbed the device with a shaky hand.

“C/S to Ghost… I-“ You tried to speak but something inside you wouldn��t allow you, to ashamed to admit what you had just done.

“C/S are you alright?” Ghost asked.

“No..” you sobbed, “Graves- he.. fuck.. he.” You couldn’t get any words out but it seemed Ghost had picked up on what you were trying to communicate.

“Can you still get to the church C/S?” He asked

“Negative lieutenant.. my shoulder is injured and I can’t.. walk..” You respond wiping your tears frantically.

“I’m leaving the church right now C/S sit tight. Where are you?” He said before informing soap to stop heading for the church.

“I’m in the house beside the coffee shop..” you muttered as you put your mask and goggles back on.

“Copy that. Sit tight.” He said before your radio went silent.

You stuff the radio back in its pocket on your vest and sit on the floor. Letting your thoughts consume you…

#philip graves x reader #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #philip graves x you #graves x you #philip graves #mw2 x reader #mw2022 #mw2 fanfic #graves x reader #cod smut #mwii x reader

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

it descends (ii)

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x f!reader

summary: all of his touches have grown to be purposeful and thought out—as though he’s continually thinking of all the ways he can burn his prints into you.

word count: 6.7k warnings: spice + smut. enemies(ish) to lovers.

part two of it happens | soap masterlist

At some point, it became less of a want—more of a need.

Your hands grasp his waist as you pull him through your base door. Yearning for him, finding his lips as eager to be against yours, as yours were for him. Everything else melts away with ease: stress, clothes, control.

No longer a battle of who can come out on top, who’ll be the one to take and give, while the other receives and gains.

Your mind is in a daze when he’s against you. His fingers angle your chin up, wrist resting against your neck as he leaves little, to no, space between the two of you.

All of his touches have grown to be purposeful and thought out—as though he’s continually thinking of all the ways he can burn his prints into you.

Sometimes, he takes you as you are. Likely afraid of moving you, guiding you elsewhere out of fear of it all shattering.

But, sometimes, he takes you on your side, hand on your upper thigh as he thrusts every inch of him inside your cunt. Sometimes, it’s not as slow or as teasing—all bent over, his chest against your back, silky words meeting the back of your shoulder as he stretches you.

It’s all out of habit now.

No secret look or exchange of whispered desires. He finds you if you’re not already with him, you find him, fingers brushing his forearm until you tug him into the shadows.

All this does is prove how thin the line has become. It thrumming in the back of both of your minds: narrow, and quieter, but mainly thin. The same one you promised yourselves you wouldn’t cross, a rule, so to speak.

“We stop this when it becomes something other than stress relief?” “Sure, lass.”

Yet, here he is, and here you are.

His weight on top of you, your thighs spread. Soap’s palm pressed down against the bed beside your head, dragging his cock in and out of you, breathy moans painting the air.

It’s not just fucking, it’s amorous. All of it is further evidenced by your honeyed touches on his waist, nails digging only slightly into his muscles and skin.

It’s both everything and nothing you deserve. Johnny is good, kind…

Your head tilts up as he hits that spot—as he presses his mouth against your jaw, the tip of his tongue sliding over your salty skin. It’s instinctive, your hands coming up to clutch the back of his head—feel the length growing, the hawk slowly becoming less and less discernible.

“Y’everything, y’are.”

He says things like that a lot now. More so in the last week. Since he’d returned with bruises and cuts, bags under his eyes that took days to disappear. It should be a warning, a flash of lightning that catches both of your attention.

But it doesn’t. Instead, you melt into it, try not to tense when he whispers your name—not your call sign, not lass. Because it’s also always your name now. The noise adds another lick up your spine, the sound making your toes curl and adoration swell in your chest. Because he says it with so much ease it makes your heart swell. You don’t care when he tinges the air with each syllable of it—as long as it's him, and only him.

It’s further proving how personal this is—how intimate.

More than you’d expected from someone you began hate-fucking on a safe house floor. That same someone whose eyes had felt foreign to you then, but now you know each speckle of them—know each star that twinkles in the blue galaxies. The swirling array of azure and pleasure which knows each one of your curves.

“Eyes on me, lass.”

And you obey, quickly at that. You let him see into your soul—all the darkened spaces you hide from the others. If he sees them, he says nothing, just holds you a little tighter, fucks you a little more purposefully. Dousing all of them in shades of blue and brightness, before cementing them with his smile.

The same smile you know you’d kill for.

The one which makes something flutter in your stomach and hurts your brain from trying to understand and unpick. It forms a lump in your throat, the same one which keeps appearing and disappearing for the last few weeks. One he must feel as he shifts his hips—changes the angle, brushing the head of his cock against a spot that makes you gasp. All aimed to make you forget and unfocus—

“Johnny.”

“I kno’, I kno. I got you, Hen.”

Sliding your hands down his neck, you know this. Your palms pressing against his muscles—letting him take and fuck, fuck and take. Your fingers feel each contortion, each movement as he thrusts into you, your gasps and breaths mingling with his.

It’s not hard not to commit each scar, each line and muscle you feel. Piecing together a person and the stories you’ve been occasionally allowed to hear.

“Missed y’, lass…” he moans.

Your mind melting, freezing—further worsened by his hand on your lower neck, index and thumb pressing against your flesh. Your mind is filled with just him, the same words brewing at the back of your tongue.

“I’ve missed you too, Johnny.”

And, while it’s the truth, you’re glad when he kisses you. When he smothers your words, flattens them. Your mind emptying with a twist of his tongue, only allowing a few occasional thoughts to stream through. Except, they’re the worst ones. The ones which you try to bury and the emotions which are worsened with each thrust. The shadows of it all, dubiously blending into a cocktail—its main ingredients are passion and desperation.

You almost think you can see it in his eyes too, even in the moments when you’re coated in dirt and blood, that isn’t your own. A look which asks if you’re alright—because he can’t trust his mouth too. One which you reply without a word, all curt nod and a smile.

It’s dangerous, how easy it would be to slide into having real feelings for him—so much so it almost takes your breath. It makes you want to hide, to stop this. To not let things further unravel and bleed wrongly into places they shouldn’t be.

But, you can’t say no to him. Don’t want to, in fact.

Even if you can feel it prickling at you, the real danger: all love, emotions and companionship. Your metaphorical walls doing nothing to keep him out—he's already through them, let in by your heart betraying your brain.

It is corroborated by the way your throat still hurts from screaming his name into your radio. Still able to feel the sand that whipped around your face if you think hard enough about it—the strain your eyes felt, trying to keep an eye on him down the scope to protect him. Helplessly watching him hand himself to danger like he's a human gift.

Soap made your heart ache when he hadn’t met your eyes later—Johnny broke it in two when he’d snaked his fingers across the seat, but wouldn’t say a word.

You’re not this person. You can’t be this person.

None of this is helped by the fact your cunt calls for him, practically whispers and beckons for him across rooms. That you wanted to hold his hand, and never let him fucking go. How without him being pressed against you, a single look can make you squirm. The marks, the ones which he leaves, mixing with the memories always prickle up and down your body just hearing his name.

You half-wonder if he leaves them to claim you or to make you remember. Each time you wash your skin, dress or move, you feel him. Able to remember how fucking deep he last was inside you, how he finds that spot between your shoulder and neck—the fact he knows which way to move his thumb to have you clamp down, screaming his name.

Just as he’s doing now.

Touching, thumb circling and circling—

And then pleasure.

Nothing but pleasure, white and him. Always fucking him.

In a place where your bodies were still cloaked in sweat and salt, where breaths were still heavy—a place between panting and normal—you didn’t ask him to leave.

His thigh against yours, slightly resting—but not quite.

Your body is still thrumming with pleasure, considering how many unstable steps it would take to the bathroom—too tired to care that he’d carry you if you asked.

A part of you, the one you try to ignore, is happy he’s here.

Images of him sleeping beside you tugging at the corners of your mouth, thawing the ice you scooped around your heart. The Soap-shaped-hole in your walls, how it isn’t even a focus for you to rebuild—leaving the bricks and dust in a heap in your soul.

He’s stayed before. When your bodies are damp from showers, muscles tired from fucking, brains emptied of the day and the dread that consumes you both. You’d meant to tell him to leave, to go—but his warmth had been far too inviting, nice, and almost normal.

Now, he stays. Born from the feelings you won’t acknowledge or accept, but stand prominently in the corner like a shadow. They hang over you when the two of you are sent on opposing causes—eyes catching when you both get to see one another. A mutual understanding, appreciation and gratitude that you’d both survived.

“Glad y’back, lass.”

You just smirk, the voice in the back of your hand ruining it—his kindness, his smile. He’s just thankful he still has someone to fuck. You don’t reply, don’t speak because of the sarcasm drenching your tongue, poisoned by your mind.

“I mean it, y’know.” Don’t. Please. “I am a good fuck, if I do say so myself.”

You see his face drop, but you move away before you can take it back.

Hiding, busying yourself until he finds you hours later—lips on your neck, hands in your hair. Words washing over you that you don’t keep, let them in and let them leave, pulling him close by his belt hoops. It ends with him staying that first night, your fingers brushing against his—the closest the two of you have allowed yourself outside of fucking.

And then the morning came, and he was gone. The blades of the chopper still swirling, mingling with your worries, concern and—

Something which knots at the back of your throat.

It not ridding even as the days drag on, flowing harshly from one to the next until he lands back—eyes cutting into him, spotting each new cut and bruise, listening as he tells a lot of stories. He always has so many.

Not that you mind. You just listen, his voice has grown to be a calming treat. No longer grating, but pleasant—coveted. Like most things to do with him, it crept over you slowly. It changed more delicately than the seasons.

All of this coming to you, crashing into you like a wave as your head rests against the pillow, staring at him, watching him rest on the back of his arm before you move. You know if you stay like this, you’ll curl into him—and that’s too far, too much.

“What’cha thinkin’?”

You smirk, sliding up onto shaky knees as you move down the crumpled sheets, hand planting on his naked thigh, watching him watch you.

“Gonna make you feel good, Johnny.”

“You already do, la—fuck.”

His words are cut off by your tongue licking a stripe up his cock. Tasting you, tasting him—tasting the two of you.

It was normal to feel something for the man you’d been fucking—that’s what you told yourself as you took him in your mouth. Feeling him harden against your tongue as the thought circled over and over.

It was normal to miss him, to crave him—to feel practically desperate for him. It had to be. You refused to think of it as anything but that.

“Fuckin’ hell, lass,” he whispers, bringing you back, hand in your hair—spit hanging off your bottom lip as you look at him.

Fuck, if his eyes weren’t the most beautiful shade of blue when he was beside you.

A colour that isn’t quite cerulean, or azure. Something oceanic, that made you want to dive in, let it coat all the sides of you, live there—be there, swimming and diving in it. You were blessed with the sight of them more frequently now than ever before. Them always just being blue before, now they’re a shade you can only name Johnny.

It’s why you let him stuff your throat with his cock. “Fuck my throat, Johnny.”

His eyes widen, turning the entire room blue as he shuffles and you move, his cock almost making you choke as tears brim in your eyes.

You just need to not think.

So your hands clutch the back of his thighs, rooting him here—with you. Silencing your mind as you hollow your cheeks, clenching your thighs together as he groans and hisses. Expletives coat the air, mixing with hisses and your name, until he coats your throat in his spend, swirling your tongue over his sensitive tip to lap every bit he’ll give you.

You don’t remember moving, but you do recall the way he brushed your tears from your cheeks. The way he ran a damp cloth over you, knowing the two of you had showered earlier. But, it was the kiss against your forehead which carried you to sleep and the feel of his fingers running up and down your arm that let the night take you. Resting for the first time in days—doing so until you didn’t.

Woken both rudely and pleasantly by his fingers curling inside of you, your cunt making lewd noises at his insistence—

Oh, wow.

His tongue glides over your bundle of nerves, making you almost buck. It’s too much and yet, not quite enough. A perfect tease, just like him. His eyes glance up at you, meeting yours for a second before he’s lapping, sucking, tasting all of you. Yanking and collecting all of your pleasure until you’re almost rendered fucking useless.

Because you will be if he continues.

If he drags another one out of you.

Your muscles still hurt, the few hours of sleep, not enough respite for how good it was last night—this morning, who even fucking knows.

“Jus’ making you feel good, Hen.”

Your chest explodes, his hands grasping yours as he dips back down, tongue plunging inside of you as your fingers blend in between his. The two of you are either making up for lost time or running from realisations.

The back of your neck is still sore from how he held it, pounding into you as the shower water rained down on the two of you—efforts of cleaning one another lost, forgotten—

“So fuckin’ pretty…”

You almost don’t hear them. The words. So lost in memories and the sound of your ears buzzing as waves of pressure and pleasure build, build, build—

“Wish you wouldn’t say that,” you whimper, wishing it came out spitting and full of fire.

Your eyes clench shut, hand releasing his, grasping at the sheets instead as he curls two fingers inside of you, finding the spot which turns you into liquid. Cool breath dancing over your cunt, almost blowing it out as a sigh.

An exasperated one.

“Why? It’s true?”

You don’t mean to lift, meet his eyes. Don’t mean to let him in. Let those fucking eyes creep in past your lashes and see inside of you—see how complex and chaotic it all is. How messy and full of doubts, insecurities and the lasting words once said by your mother all live there.

Because he’s between your fucking thighs.

His tongue, lips and chin glisten with your sex.

“Hey,” Johnny says, lifting his head higher, keeping his fingers in place, but still, “Yer the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, lass… fuckin’ gorgeous y’are.”

Your face heats, cheeks burning.

The buzzing back as he slowly begins to move his fingers, feel him shifting, moving ever so slightly closer towards you.

And something shatters, willingly—having needed to if it was going to allow something else to grow there. To allow this, whatever this was becoming, to break through and bloom.

But you shut it.

Slammed the symbolic door through your eyes. Barricading him back out, halting it all…

“Just lemme fuck you, Johnny,” you whine, grasping his wrist, and removing his fingers from inside of you.

His protest is quickly muted by your lips, you pulling, grasping until you’re easing him inside of you and you can rock your hips against his.

This.

You like this. Him on his back, hands on your hips—you in control. You also like how he stares up at you, almost hearing him say those words all over again, but you blink. Twisting your hips, vanishing them away, filling the space between you both with his name:

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny.

Feeling him let you. Hand clamping onto your waist, but it’s different from last night. The way he’s looking at you is too.

It all forever changed.

Fucking hell.

Fuck.

“Come for m’, hen. I got you.”

And you know that. You hate that you do.

Hate that you feel safe with him. Your eyes clench shut due to the fact. Tears brimming for a different reason—because he’s not just in your cunt and between your thighs, but in your fucking heart. The bastard, the handsome fucking bastard.

He’s aware of the line. Aware that he’s put his boot over it, but he doesn’t care for the mess that’ll spread because of it.

All he wants is you.

He decided on it a while ago, accepted it a month ago, and has been thinking of nothing else for weeks. Soap doesn’t care how much you let him in, as long as you do. He’ll take the snippets, the small moments where your eyes shimmer and glisten—where the only darkness in them is from lust and need, and not faux hatred.

Even if you still throw up a wall when his hand releases your skin; when he turns for a second to dress and returns to find you cold, blank and empty all over again. He’ll take it all.

The line vibrates somewhere in the distance, blinking and winking that he should have known better. But, he could say that about so much that he does.

Like how he’s at your front door. Chipped paint and slanted numbers, the peephole covered by his thumb as he knocks. Because if you know it’s him, you won’t answer. He knows that much about you.

When you answer it, your eyes staring up at him, his hand slowly lowering from knocking—he sees a lot flutter across your face. Anguish, concern; embarrassment and relief. He’s not sure which one to cling to, even less so when you lean out, checking around him—either for others or for neighbours. He can’t be sure.

“You’re here…”

He smirks. “I am.”

Because, how could he ignore your call? The one full of soft tears you pretended wasn’t flowing, the same one that said you wished he were here. Something he thinks you’d quickly take back now he is here.

Those four words kept him going when his eyes were heavy on the long drive; the ones which boosted him as he stared up at the many stairs to your flat.

Each pellet of water drips from his hand and his sleeves land in a puddle where a welcome mat should be. Falling against trodden takeaway menus you’ve not picked up—it is the only sound and the only thing anyone would be able to hear, outside of two pulses hammering.

They’ve been off base for three days, and it’s been two days since your drunken call to him. One since you’d sent him a text asking him to ignore everything you had said. As if he ever could.

It had been the only real thing the two of you had exchanged other than your bodies. An insight into you, a peek into what goes on in that head of yours outside of looking fucking beautiful and sarcasm.

“I hate being home. It reminds me that I’m alone, that I’m scarred and fucking broken.” “Yer not alone, lass.” “Ha! Why cause I’ve got you?” “Yea. You always got me. Even if you don’t wanna admit that, let yerself think y’have no one when it’s the first best from the truth.”

You look hollow. Like the break from the demand of both of your jobs has carved something out of you—a light, a passion.

One he decides, there and then, he’s going to try and fill, replace. A pull inside of him to smother your woes with himself, to make your mind stop rolling a broken thought. You do that—stab yourself with shards of lies. He watches you do it, commits to his mind—later bringing his thoughts to life with black graphite, sketching the curve from your frown before erasing it and replacing it with a smile.

If only it was as easy to do in person as it was on paper.

A minute since he’d proven he hadn’t done that.

“Y’inviting me in?”

He watches you consider it. Run through all the possible outcomes, but your body sidesteps all the same. He smells the notes of recent cooking mixing with a lemon scent. A scent he finds is all you when you’re here, something light, airy. One he knows he’ll happily let cling to his skin, clothes and mind.

Because it’ll happen. It always does.

The two of you were bloody magnets, always finding one another, seeking each other out and digging into the other, desperate to cling on.

“You slept, lass?”

He knew the answer before you shook your head, the evidence in the bags under your eyes. The ones which are darker, more swollen than he’s seen before. And he’s seen you after being awake for three days straight; he’s seen you covered in dirt, sweat and insolence, but this is something else.

He touches you gently, half-expecting you to crack down the centre. Your edges peel from your centre, and fall to nothing right in front of his eyes. He’s happy you don’t move. If anything, you remain perfectly in place in your small hallway, staring at him, waiting for him to move more deliberately.

Which is why the dance is so familiar now. The way his hand moves to spread across your cheek, the way you curl into it, allowing him to kiss you, to taste you. Mint and coffee mix with the tip of his tongue as he deepens it, pushing you back until you meet a wall. His other hand hooks your thigh.

He doesn’t take your clothes from your skin as quickly as normal. He takes his time. Unwrapping you, time on his side. The light of the day shimmers through your blinds, painting your skin in yellow and warmth. It’s not until he reaches your underwear does he remove them tentatively, kissing each bit of skin he can as it unveils itself to him.

You're quicker and more rushed. Either desperate to feel him or to feel something. His jumper, belt, and trousers were all left in discarded piles from the hallway until your bedroom—until all that remained was your underwear.

His focus is on your hands. How they slide through the long-length hair, pulling and angling his mouth against yours with newfound desperation that makes him moan.

He could almost convince himself that he could have this.

You.

The two of you. Together.

He likes how you let him spread you open, that you kiss him like you never want him to stop. And it feels different. This.

Each time the last few it has felt more intimate, more passionate. The longing all underpinned by something he couldn’t quite see, but can feel has its own pulse. Something uncontrollable and alive.

Your eyes focus on him, unwavering and it almost takes his breath from his lungs, because you’re beautiful. So perfect.

He’s always thought it, even when you were snarky, even when you were being difficult for the sake of being difficult. That look in your eyes that would make a lesser man cower, but made him stare more boldly, because lass, that won’t work on me, even if it very much did.

He’d been unwilling to really see it, take notice of it. Not afraid, but reluctant. Now, it’s all he saw. Your beauty. The one all the others had allowed themselves to notice freely, without concerns of blurring lines and difficult emotions.

He lets himself taste you. Runs his tongue across your cunt before finally plunging it in, fingers digging bruises into your inner thighs as you try to clamp them around his ears. And fuck, if this wasn’t heaven right here.

You squirm when he flattens his tongue; you whimper his name when he circles your clit. Each sound captured by his ears, his hips rocking gently against your mattress—throbbing, pulsing all for you. Because fuck you do something to him—something he burns into your cunt with his mouth, telling you in the only way you’re prepared to hear him right now.

“M’gonna come, Johnny.”

He’s doing this to you.

Those flush cheeks, lips slightly parted, shoulders propping you up against full pillows as your jaw tightens. He’s doing this to you—he’s making you feel good.

It’s like music to his ears and a sight he had never known he craved. His pursuit continues until he feels you tense and he tastes your high. It stains his tongue, lapping it up until you’re trying to pull away—I’m too sensitive too much, it’s too—ah, much, Johnny.

It’s less desperate and more prolonged when he finally slides up, hooking your leg over his waist, and he fills you. His hand holds your cheek, something he both loves and knows you need. Slowly, carefully placing his forehead almost against yours—

Almost.

Your lips ghost over his, there is barely any space between the two of you. All he can think is: I never want to leave. Not here. Not you.

But the words don’t leave his tongue. They instead get balled up, rolled to the back of his throat before he swallows them. Focusing, changing tact, shifting to capture each moan you let out, each whimper you let escape. And when it hits, when he pushes you to the brink, you free fall for the longest time and he just watches in awe.

Because fuck, you’re a vision.

Both with a gun in your hand, more so coated in blood and a blade in your palm—but this is up there too.

It's different in your bed, your body tensing, heels digging into him as your nails cut into his waist as his name is ripped from your throat both willingly and reluctantly rolled into one. It’s more intense, more freeing—your pleasure going and going, and going.

It’s why his own shatters at the sight and sound of you, filling you, coating your walls in him as he grunts out your name freely, and loudly. White hot pleasure drenches every tense muscle and removes every worried thought over what he’d find when he arrived at yours. Leaving just this and you—utter perfection that he adores.

He kisses you as he slows his hips, all hungry and thankful. Both for letting him in figuratively and literally. Your breaths mingle with his, chest rising and falling as he pulls you close to him, holding you until you push him away—which he knows you will.

Each second that passes, he thinks will be the last. His lips break from yours, the rain hammering against the window as the sun tries to poke through the clouds. It paints your room in a yellow hue, one which makes your eyes more bright and more beautiful than normal.

“We have to stop.”

You don’t let go, don’t move from his embrace.

Your legs remained tangled with his, the same as his clothes were still in a mess somewhere in your home—the one you wanted him in. He pulls for a sheet, bringing it up, letting you fall from his arms, noticing the brief gap you form from him.

“Y’keep saying that.”

“And you don’t listen.”

He expects you to snap, but you don't. Not really.

And all it does is baffle him. You had confused him—had been difficult to understand from the beginning to now. You’re layers of skin, muscle and bone, and under it all, something he’s not sure he wants to be without.

Truthfully, it terrified him.

How his mind had become full of you. How he liked hearing your pulse as much as he liked hearing you say his name.

“Do you wan’ me t’, lass? Want me t’listen as yer tell me not to find you, when I know yer need me?”

“I don’t need you.”

“Yer don’t, do you?”

Glaring for a second, you swallow, yanking your eyes from his.

“There’s no one else, lass. Not f’me. Is there for you?”

The answer, it floats in your eyes. He can see it. How it’s slid from your brain to your tongue, eyes afraid to blink. Knowing he knows. Seeing it, processing it—fucking hating it.

His fingers find your chin, pulling your eyes to him, and for a second—the briefest one—he forgets how to breathe as your face softens and unfurls.

“No,” you whisper. “No one else.”

His fingers stroke your chin, accepting it—letting it linger between the two of you. And then, his lips find yours, body slowly covering yours.

You welcome it. Thankfully.

He feels your arms slide up around his neck, pulling him closer and closer, parting your thighs for him again. But it’s different—it’s changed.

It hurts.

Both the bruises on your forehead and the hole in your arm.

You try to slam the door behind you, hearing it not connecting with the frame but a person—one who has been charging after you. A person annoyed with you for self-discharging, for being angry in the first place.

You round on him, quickly—almost offsetting him with how quickly you 180.

”Fuck me, Johnny—“

“Lass, you are injured. Y' shouldn't... you shouldn't even b' discharged.”

You give him a poignant look. One that screams that you aren’t fragile, that you’re not made of glass. Even if your bone throbs, held together with sheer will and pins.

Something he knows.

Something he has felt, seen and pushed to the breaking point to prove. Yet…

He’s not a painkiller, but you wish he was—knew he could be. Knew he could rid even the worst thoughts from your mind, so why could he not do it with pain?

“Please.” Make me forget. Like we always do. Please, please, please…

The lines on his forehead lessen, his sigh escaping his nose slowly. “Don’t look at me like tha’. Yer had a bullet in your arm, y’need rest.”

“Babe…”

“Babe, aye?”

You swallow it.

His questioning tone and look of surprise and the sting that accompanies it.

In your defence, it had slipped out—slithered past your tongue, having woven its way out of the chest marked do not open.

Turning from him, you bite back a hiss as you try to remove your t-shirt, your muscles screaming as you do. Each tendon begging you to stop, to sit, to rest, to not fucking move. But you need it off. Unable to breathe, to think of anything but—your teeth sinking down into your cheek until you taste copper as you yank, tug and pull—

“Steamin’ Jesus, c’mere,” he says, his hands coming to help you remove it.

He turns you. A disapproving look etched into his face, sliding it over your injured arm with more care than you’d have put him down for.

Then it vanishes. Gone. Stolen.

His face is all kinds of different, his eyes not lowering to your chest and bra, but rather remaining on your eyes. And it feels… wrong. Even if it doesn’t. Even if everything has flipped and changed already, you still think—hope—he’ll want to go back to mindless fucking you.

It would be easier. Less complicated and messy. No feelings to unpack and unknot from inside of you. No confusing questions needing answers that you’d have to fish out from inside the parts of you that you hide from.

You want to move closer, kiss him, make it different—shift the moment into something you’re used to. Make it feel more like the usual. Because this doesn’t feel right…even if it is.

The two of you are closer than just getting naked and fucking.

It isn’t just grappling hands and pleasure, this feels like something else. Born from it? Yes. Derived from the times you’ve both shared. It standing in the corner, staring you both down—

He moves around you, stepping closer to your drawers, and you hear one draw open and close before he’s back in front of you. His hand holding a t-shirt, one of your favourites—the same one you’d been wearing when he turned up at your door those weeks ago.

It almost makes you cry. Almost.

You are somehow able to stem it back, hold it back with sheer will and fucking determination. Especially when Soap doesn’t speak, just eases it over your head. The baggy material floats down over you as he helps ease you into it, cautious with your arm and the bandages wrapped around it.

“You need t’ rest.”

It leaves his lips almost quietly, as though afraid any louder and it would break the air. The air crackles; it thrums and shudders out of tension and apprehension—because this is the turning off of the tide. Especially as you almost say: I just need you. I want you.

A choice needing to be made. You’d thought it when he skidded to you, kicking dirt up around you as he grasped your wound—face whitening. His words of comfort fell with ease, not caring for the eyes—the people, the team or the fucking mission.

The line then had just blinked and shone; now it flashes incessantly.

Your arm is throbbing, aching. A reminder of how easy it is to lose—for something to slip and spell disaster. The team, all of you, rely on each other to have a level head. To be there.

“C’mon, let’s get y’into bed—“

You almost melt into it. His touch. It would be easy too, to let him care—to let the person you care about, care about you. To let his arm wrap around you, mind running away, imagining the way it will feel to lie against him, curl into him clothed. Maybe even let his hand rest against your cheek, stroking it; maybe even have your clothed legs tangle in his, nothing sinful, just innocence.

But… you can’t.

Your feet stopping, halting. Eyes glance up at him, pleading that he’ll snap out of it too. Remember why this started. How the entire thing is born of a need to feel alive, to root one another; the next time a stress release, nothing more, nothing less.

This isn’t that. Not anymore. It’s something that could be real. And real means something costly, something which could break and hurt—far worse than a bullet, knife or bomb.

“I don’t… I don’t wanna do this anymore, Johnny.”

He’s smiling.

It clicks that he thinks you mean something else. That you don’t want to get into bed…

He nudges your good arm. “Why? Yer saving yourself for someone else now?”

You say nothing. But, your face must say it all.

Watching his slowly sink, the balloon inside of you bursting—it deflating in your chest. The look on his face makes your heart plummet, and sink so fast it’ll flatten at your feet.

The despondent look cracks the outer edges of you, snapping the places he’s healed. And this is just a taste of what it would look like to hurt him, to disappoint him.

“I just… I just don’t think I like you like that.”

Lies. Lies. Lies.

You twist it, the metaphorical knife. It's all there in your hand and now lodged into his chest as you hold his gaze. Needing the words to imprint, to fucking stick.

It’s the only way to fix this, to stop it all before it splinters and you’re both left with nothing.

His smile is the last to fall. It clearly having held onto you taking it back, but now it is so telling.

It fades as the seconds sneak into minutes.

It falls slowly at first. Then it falls fast, taking the shimmer from his eyes—tainting the hue of blue you’ve come to know better than your own eye colour. Realisation stealing, snatching it all away, as his eyes say the words he’s too afraid to say: Did I mean nothing else to you?

You're thankful he doesn’t ask them. Not sure at what volume you’d tell him that he means everything, and that’s why you can’t do this.

Why this has to stop…

“That so?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice still. “Y-yes.”

He nods, stepping back. Trying to disguise his hurt as well as you’re hiding what a lie all of this is. The gap feels wider than a step or two. It feels like the floor has cracked and ripped you apart, and your good hand pinches your thigh, grasping to the pain, letting it centre you.

And then you smile because it’s easier too. Fewer muscles are needed to make it happen. You slowly step back, watching him watch you.

“I should rest, so…” you announce.

His jaw tightens, and then he nods.

Not a Johnny nod, not even a Soap one. A soldier-nod. A clinical, devoid-of-emotion nod that makes your whole chest explode into shatters.

You silence the cries to stop him, the voice in your head telling you to reach out to him. Not moving from your position, not fucking able to, until he slams the door behind him. The room rattling as it rips through you, the loss—all punctuated by the sound.

It cuts worse than anything you’ve ever known—it hurts more than being awake when they removed the bullet. All of it is made worse by the way the room shakes from his exit, the echo and earthquake left by his departure. The photo frame on your bedside table wobbling, and wobbling—

and wobbling.

“S-shit,” you whimper, tears falling free and fast.

Your good arm coming up to cup your waist, your other hanging limply, without purpose. You know you should move, but you can’t. Standing, frozen in the spot where everything broke in two.

A part of you, the sane part—the one which let him in and welcomed him—wants to run for him. To tug him close and tell him you lied. That you fucking lied, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.

Your legs are aching and shaking. All tired and without energy, not even a reason to hold you up anymore. Wanting to sink, to let your knees crash into the concrete floor and bare-thread rug, let it all unfurl and spill from you.

Bang.

You jump, eyes blinking, focusing. Desperately ridding the tears back so you can see, finding him.

Soap… Johnny, standing in your doorway, glaring until he isn’t. And then he’s moving towards you, door slamming again, a whole different expression knitted into his features.

“Yer aff yer heid if yer don’t think I know…”

You lift your chin, unsure why you do it defiantly, angrily. “Know what?”

You say it as if there aren't tears on your cheeks, as though him being in front of you hasn’t stopped the shards from your heart from hitting the ground and cutting you.

“Tha’ yer like me, lass.”

His hand grasps your waist, pulling you close—the bare knuckles off his other hand wiping your cheeks.

“I kno’ it, ‘cause I like you too.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“Aye, probably am,” he says, cupping your cheek. “Don’t care like. If that’s alright wir’ you.”

You stare at him.

Letting yourself be bathed in Johnny-blue, noticing the hair band—your hair band—still on his wrist.

And then he kisses you.

Differently. Explosively. Life-changingly.

Your mind is thinking only one thing as you kiss him back: It’s alright with me, Johnny.

an: just know, the seventh scene ended when he slammed the door on the first draft, so you're welcome that i added a part of the next chapter here.

part three of it happens ->

#soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap 🧼#soap mactavish #soap squad #soap mactavish x f!reader #soap mactavish x female reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #cod x reader #cod soap x f!reader #cod soap x reader #cod soap #mwii x reader

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