#soap cod

[druap]

some recent sketches from twitter

[indigosunsetao3]

King Price assuring his pretty new bride that it’s tradition his most trusted men be there for the consummation of their marriage. It’s just part of the ceremony and to be expected. Nothing to be nervous or shy about. His inner circle are strictly professional and all about upholding the sanctity of marriage.

Now just lay back and let Johnny work your pretty little cunt open with his tongue. Your king would hurt you if you weren’t ready, and we can’t have that can we? We need you relaxed and pliant. It’s okay if it feels good, no need to fight it. Johnny is here to please you as much as he is there for John. You are the new queen after all.

Kyle can help you keep your cries down, just open your mouth nice and wide for him. Just like that. Let him stuff his cock down your throat to muffle you. We don’t want the maids in waiting to hear you scream. Scare the poor dears to death thinking you were in pain.

Then when you’re ready John will bully his way into your slick hole. He knows the stretch burns but he keeps going, assuring you it gets better. As he bends your knees up to your ears he whispers to you about how good you feel. How pretty you are with tears in your eyes and his name on your lips. That it’s okay to claw at him as he punches against your cervix as he pushes in hard and deep when he comes.

When John rolls off you, Simon’s fingers are there quickly replace him, making sure none of the kings spend goes to waste. He knows your overstimulated and sore but don’t try and crawl away. Unless you want a sharp smack to your abused clit. And as your body clenches around his fingers you can rock your hips to match his movements pushing into you, no need to be shy.

And as you lay there on display in the bed, hips up on a pillow to keep everything in that Simon pushed back inside, Johnny will clean you up. Wipe away the left over spit and come from your thighs with a deliciously warm cloth. He’ll use his tongue again for the especially tender parts if you whine prettily enough. Kyle does the same for his King as John lays next to you, grinning as he watches.

Meanwhile, Simon leaves to tell the Court it’s done; his fingers still glistening as the evidence.

[lanialania00]

a silly drawing

[gloomwitchwrites]

Ok ok

Hear me out

Dying in their arms

ANGST ANGST ANGST

I might be answering this one ask, but there were four other people with this exact prompt idea. FOUR. Y'all asked for angst and pain and I'm delivering. Here you go! Eat it up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): angst, hurt/no comfort, swearing, canon-typical violence, 141!reader, mild blood & injury, reader death

Word Count: 800

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

John Price

John clutches you to his chest, uncaring of the carnage around him. Chains hang from the ceiling. They’re rusty, caked with dried blood and other things.

“I’m sorry,” whispers Price, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

Your breathing is shallow, and your eyelids are heavy. Death is waiting for you—an invisible interloper. Price would happily hand himself over if it meant you could walk out of here alive and whole.

But that is not to be. There is no coming back from what has happened to you. He can only ease your suffering with soft words.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

You try to smile. There is only a hint of white amongst the red. “It’s okay, John. I forgive you.”

He doesn’t want your forgiveness. He’d rather have you healthy—not near the end.

Your next breath is a shudder. “I’m cold,” you whimper. “And it’s—dark.”

John cradles your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a slow back-and-forth motion. “It’ll pass,” he reassures. “I’m right here.”

“I love you.”

That shatters him. John lowers his forehead to yours, tears falling from his eyes. “I love you, too.”

But you do not hear him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Where’s the evac!”

The comm is dead quiet. Not even static answers him.

He presses down on the button again. “Where’s the fucking evac!” screams Kyle.

“Kyle,” you gasp, voice wet and bubbly. You cough, and dark red explodes from your mouth, splattering the front of Kyle’s bullet-proof vest.

Blood is everywhere. It stains your clothes and face and hair. There are long stretches of it on Kyle as if he’s been clawed by a large animal. None of it is his, but he wishes it was.

Your eyes are open. Going glassy. Growing distant.

“Stay with me,” he pleads, voice cracking on a sob. “Stay with me. Please. Please. Please.”

The hand that grips him eases, fingers loosening as the life leaves your face.

“Please,” he begs, tearful desperation clinging to his breath. “Look at me. I’m right here.”

But you do not look at him. There is no gasping movement. You are still and cold and silent.

“It’s too late.”

Captain Price.

Kyle’s chest heaves. Everything narrows, becoming a dark pinpoint. “No. No!” He shoves at Price, tears staining his cheeks, fists landing. “Call them! Call them!”

“I’m sorry, Gaz,” murmurs Price, grasping his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost follows you with his scope, picking off enemies.

“Forty meters and you’re free,” says Ghost into his comm.

There’s a crackle, followed by your laughter. “Thanks for the countdown.”

“Pleasure,” replies Ghost, smirking behind the mask.

He returns his eye to the scope, and—

Ghost blinks, draws back, checks again. “Where the fuck are you?” he mutters.

One moment you were on your feet and in his line of sight. There’s no bloody way you’ve up and disappeared. His heartrate spikes, becomes a pounding thing that thuds in his ears. Ghost slows his sweep—watching the ground.

He inhales sharply and rockets to his feet, charging down the hill, screaming into his comms. Ghost uses your callsign over and over—and when you don’t respond—he uses your name. In his ear Price, Johnny, and Gaz are jabbering away, clear panic in their voices.

You’re in the dirt. Face down.

Ghost drops to his knees, picks you up, drags you to cover. He touches your face, but your gaze is vacant, and there is nothing to the back of your head. Placing his hand on your chest, Ghost sits in silence with you as the useless med evac approaches.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny claps your hand—hard. If he holds on tight enough, maybe you won’t slip away.

“I’m here. Right here,” he reassures, as if his words alone will heal you.

Blood oozes from between your clasped palms. The both of you are covered in dirt and debris but only one of you is unharmed. Johnny will come out of this whole ordeal with a few bruises. You are full of holes. Broken. Bleeding out.

The evac won’t arrive in time. Even if it did, you wouldn’t make it. That’s the hardest part of it, knowing there is no hope. These final moments are all Johnny has with you. There will be no more gentle afternoons, lazy walks, or mornings tangled up in one another.

All of that is done.

Obsolete.

“Johnny,” you whimper.

“Right here,” he soothes, hating how your gaze is unfocused, searching for him even though he’s right here. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Johnny shifts you in his lap, cradling you close. He whispers all his love to you, recounting your short but wonderful life together. He keeps talking. Even when your chest stops moving. Even when you go limp. Talking. Talking even in the dead silence.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @xllizs @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @all-by-myself98 @hisuccubus

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving @carbonnite-copy @sobbangchan @codeseven

@youre-a-wallflower-charlie @tiredmetalenthusiast @sporadicpizzainternet @tessakate @mistresssolana

[crookedteev]

Hat Trick

Some more of my magicians AU because I’m getting lots of brainworms

[thisnoah]

Smooching my cat

[gazstations]

Has anyone done Dark!Poly!141 x reader where reader is a writer and never questions how their significant others always have the specific detail they need to write part of their story.

TW for implications of sexual content and torture????

Like it can be as simple as them acting out positions for reader to get what they need. Like how the fuck does someone lean on a wall in an appealing way? Then it goes to cooking. Gaz and Price are good at this part. Helping their beloved get their silly little details accurate, because god forbid they describe a meal going in the oven 5 minutes less than what it’s supposed to.

They’re even there when reader gets on a horny streak for their book. They will make reader write down their notes as one of them is getting a little too into the scene. Oh. The scene doesn’t involve full penetration? It does now, love. You’re sobbing as Soap helps you down onto Ghost. Don’t mind Gaz coming up behind you, he’s just helping you. No, don’t run away from his fingers as they wander down to where you’re connected with Ghost.

Silly you. You always forget to remember what happened for your scene. When you’re feeling better Price will help you whip out a new, far better scene. The other one just wasn’t right. Don’t mind Soap getting FOMO and trying to add to the scene.

Next thing you know you’re getting tucked into your shared bed while Gaz holds you against his chest. I know, dove, they’re so mean. Aren’t they?

Feeling a little bit in the mood for some crime book? They will gladly practice on the new neighbor that moved in. Just don’t go into Price’s workshop at the back of the property and it will be okay. And don’t question why Ghost suddenly has the information on how many little piggies someone can lose before they pass out.

You’re going to be a bestseller, love.

Thoughts, concerns, questions? Has this been done before???? Help.

[7s3ven]

tatted! simon motorcycle shenanigans

TATTED UP! Simon Riley who lets you turn him into a colouring book. He doesn’t care how you colour his tattoos, he just wants to see the scrunched up look of concentration on your cute face.

“What colour do you want?” You murmur as you glance at your numerous eyeshadow palettes. Simon wants to say black or grey but he sees the way you eye the pink palette for a moment too long.

“… Pink.” He finally answers, his gaze focused solely on your bright smile.

You find joy in colouring his arm with various shades of pink and purple as he watches. “Look, so cute.” You murmur, eliciting a low laugh from Simon.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbles, “You wanna colour the rest in?”

BONUS

“Aye, LT, you got your tattoo redone or what?” Jonny can barely hold back his laughter as he looks at Simon’s arm. The previously edgy tattoos were now adorned with feminine colours and glitter.

“No. Just making the misses happy.” Simon doesn’t really care for his teammates’ reactions because the memory of your smile is enough to block out Jonny’s cackles.

[oldrainfall]

I'm so normal about him your honour, I swear

Soap Being Soap

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[cresslog]

mmmm sketching sketching sketching

[ghouljams]

Making soap fuck you while he has a vibrating butt plug in 🧎‍♀️

Panting and whining like he isn't wagging his damn tail. Hips stuttering and his hands pawing at you, cock twitching with each thrust, complaining that it feels too good, he can't hold back. You'd really hoped you'd be able to control him better, but he's so desperate it's mean. Holding you down and fucking you as hard and fast as he can, knocking the air out of your lungs with each heavy slap of his hips until you can barely get a breath in to scream. Maybe it was wishful thinking to believe he meant he couldn't hold back from coming, not that he was abandoning everything but base instinct.

[lanialania00]

[gloomwitchwrites]

You look back at 141 during backshots: mdni

Gaz: Grabs your face and kisses you.

Price: Flips you over into a mating press because you're too pretty not to look at.

Soap: Recording with his phone to watch again for later.

Ghost: Pulls your hair and tugs your head back so you can't break eye contact all while a cigarette dangles from his mouth.

[baremueran]

[tojisteddy]

Soap who has full conversations with your baby.

The man was so addiment about being there every step of the way of your pregnancy since you were rightfully scared. He read up on childcare books in the middle of missions, signed you up for couple classes, even got you a doula. You two were smooth sailing from then on.

But, my goodness would that man talk his head off to your unborn baby.

Those last 4 months, he would snuggle up right to your adorable, growing stomach and talk about anything that came to mind. The weather, the new bassinet you two argued over for thirty minutes, how uncle Gaz and Uncle Simon were both evil brats and hoe the baby (little chicky) couldn’t be around them for too long.

The baby knew Soaps voice, turning or kicking with excitement whenever they heard his voice. But the turning and kicking got so bad you’d waddle your cute butt away every time Soap would come talking even when it was casual conversation.

He’s right on your heals, easily catching up to you, “But baby, how’s I ‘posed to know chicky would come to love ma voice soooo much?”

“Johnny I don’t know, but it hurts! Back up ten feet from now on!” You giggle in a playful annoyance.

“Poor mama,” he coos, pecking your lips before kneeling down right at your belly, hand touching it and immediately feeling a kick that made you wince. “Johnny!” You keened. “Looky ‘ere chicky, ye can’t go bullying ma wife every time ‘m near. That ain’t fair, is it?” The man looks up at you, eyes glistening with laughter and giving your round stomach a kiss. “Ease up on ‘er, will ya?”

Oh did that baby ease up alright, not giving you a moments rest after that “talking to” if chicky didn’t hear Soaps voice. You’d call, three in the morning, praying to God he wasn’t doing anything.

“What’s wrong? You okay dove?” hes panicked, quick to answer those last two months, always.

You sniffle, “Just say somethin Johnny! The baby’s trying to kill me!” And that man can’t help the grin that forms on his face. Chicky hadnt even been born yet but was giving you hell. Like father like child, Johnny’d done the same thing with his mother. She’d be happy to hear about this.

And then, little chicky was born, a beautiful thing with a head full of hair, two eyes, two ears, ten fingers and toes. both of you two cried with joy. The baby clung to Johnny every chance they could, which started the babbling. Chicky would talk up a storm to the both of you as soon as they were able to hold their head up by themselves. Firsts clenched, drool every where, eyes wandering, always had so much to say.

In came Soap who had to feed them at 7 am (sleep trained to a tea by yours truly), the baby in the high chair, red baby food surrounding its mouth while Soap cleaned up the mess of a kitchen from the night before. Going on and on about the people he had to work with.

“Oh honey, I knoooow. Carol told me tha’ Evan’s been bein a little bitch to everyone on base. Annoyin yer poor Da while he tries to do his work! Cannae ‘ave that, can we?”

And your sweet baby babbles back, squealing and gripping onto the spoon in his hand.

You, who’s been watching the entire scene from the archway of the kitchen, scoffs, “Jesus, don’t curse at my kid!”

“Dove it’s not me!” He threw his arms up in defense, giggling, “the babe just won’t stop tellin me how much a gobshite Evan is.”

Soap bends down, face level to your baby. “Yes he is! Yes he is!” He coo’s, and chicky grins, as if they know what’s going on. Just like always.

a/n: reader x soap and their baby chicky is so cute to me.

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