#soap is unhinged

[kit-williams]

Where do babies come from?

You know I debated on answering this but decided fuck it.

Enjoy your bloodthirsters!

Soap just grinned his usual wolfish grin at his Bonnie. "Well lass when two mortals love each other very much..."

"Doesn't have to be love, Imvaassj." Ghost drawled out and chuckled as he waved him off.

"Right, when two mortals get down to it they fuck and boom a bairn is made."

"Right. Well honestly I'm kind of shocked you even know how babies are made." She laughed as he cocked his head.

"Course I know how they're made. I've made a few." Soap huffed and that got his Bonnie to look at him concerned.

"We've all made little ones, hen." Price says before tilting his head back and letting smoke roll out of his mouth.

"Aye why you think Alejandro and Rudy are so attentive to their hen?" Soap said with the biggest grin on his face as he bit his bottom lip like he was holding back a secret. "It's 'cause they're trying to knock her up bonnie."

He grabbed her before she could jump to her feet to warn the Inquisitor. With the amount of greater demons in one location... audio was spotty at best and it seemed that this moment would be conveniently lost.

"I aint done with ye. Now, if you want someone who is attentive I'd suggest going after a keeper or a changer... if you want a nest and the whole big display of wooing you and then leaving you... well that would be a slanneshi move. Really all depends on the demon's or prince's personality nothing really a blanket statement cept when you get with a bloodthirster or a demon prince of khorne we tend to do it with mortals with the full intent of knocking them up." He explains just sitting her down again as Ghost wanders over.

"My preferred partners are knights." Ghost drawls on.

"Aye but you have a nasty habit of tragic romances there Ghost."

He shrugs, "Not my fault I fall madly in love with my quarry. Though I am enjoying one of my Initiates company... a good little bird." He mutters as his brass eyes unfocused.

"Back on topic..." She says softly looking back at Soap. "So lets say you did knock me up." She leans back as Soap just practically vibrates before Ghost grabs the back of his neck.

"Heel. Try your best not to scare your bird." Is all Ghost says before he walks away after being happy with how much Soap calms down.

He swallows, his eyes glowing a little bit brighter, his chest puffed up a little more, she could practically see the outline of his horns around his head... she was confused was he preening? "But, when I do knock you up. You can expect a few things. Ahh if I was an unaligned demon you'd get something to what you humans would have called changlings or demigods depending on how strong they were. So not quite human but human enough. But given the amount of aether that would be going into you..." He taps his chin thinking.

"Well when König knocks up one of his darlings it's usually always another bloodthirster and also for him usually kills the mother."

Said bloodthirster huffed softly, "I'll make a demon prince one of these days. Just have to find... the right one so to speak." He said looking up from his book; a murder mystery.

"Aye but that's because he's a big boy and he tends to have big boys. But as for me I've made a few bloodthirsters, bloodletters, and a couple of blessed children. Al tends to make bloodthirsters as well but that's because of his rank. The old man's got one of his in yer Grey Knights."

Her head whipped over to Price, who just shrugged and barked, "I'm not that old. I'm at most a few centuries older than you. But yes one of my blessed brood is a grey knight. Not uncommon for what were once considered demigods to you mortals to be picked up by your space marines." He sighs softly, "Just I'm so disappointed that he went and joined them. Utilizes psyker powers too and everything."

"Geeze you sure don't sound too torn up." She states as Price barks out a laugh.

"No didn't really care for the mother with that one. But I'm certain my sweetheart and I can make a couple of happy little ones when she lets me." His chest rumbled.

"R-right... I think I've spent too long here." She gets up to her feet rather quickly but Soap grabs her.

"Och no. Yer goin' to gab to the Inquisitor." Soap growls as all of the bloodthirsters in the room look at her with that molten gaze. "They'll keep me away from you bonnie... keep us away from our hens... if they found out what we were after. Al and Rudy are so close to being a proud pair of papas... ye don't wanna take that from them do ye?"

"Imvaassj Pohn Oynhcat," She manages to hiss out watching his bindings glow but he fails to be contained and Soap just grins.

"Stay still for a wee moment bonnie. I was truthful with ye. Doesn't mean you have to remember it all."

"What."

Is all she manages to say before she grows slack jawed and eyes glazed as he pulls a glowing strand from the side of her head. Oh Johnny can't lie... none of the boys in the room could lie. They could be like fae of old and with hold the truth but not outright lie. Perhaps Johnny was a bit more of a fae then he let on as he pulled out bits from her memory to let it snap back like a rubber band.

He laughs, "What don't like the idea that Nurgle demons and demon princes just make the chunkiest babies." He says continuing a conversation that had no start. Watching her face grimace. "Like I was saying fussiest babies are from Slannesh, the curious ones are from Tzeentch..."

"And what about your lord?"

Soap just grinned at her, "We get the calmest little babies after all they should enjoy their innocence before their future is drenched in blood."

[moondirti]

simon who’s always just a little too rough with you when it isn’t warranted. bends you in positions that burn your tendons, thrusts just hard enough to bully the breath out your lungs, hauls you around by the hair, a fist clenched at its roots. you never asked for it — have never even expressed masochist interests — but find that it’s a vain endeavour trying to get him to ease up. either your complaints are met with three prying fingers to the mouth, or your tears with a hole full of spend.

struggle seems a catalyst to his behaviour. you opt to put up with it as best you can.

that is, until you see him fuck johnny for the first time. all of a sudden, things click into place. the men go at it like bears, more mauling one another than getting off. both too strong for their own good, thrashing atop your cotton sheets, biting into iron biceps or striking red handprints across their pecs. frotting, when they get too impatient to fish their ruddy cocks from their pants. it unnerves you beyond words; watching the purpled bruises blossom in real time, hearing the groaned reactions. and it only occurs to you, then — as you back away from the planned threesome for your own safety — that you’ve been treated so rough by virtue of misplaced aggression.

johnny comes over far more often from that point on. sometimes, you’ll tune in to the barbarity from the other room, halfway through a good book and comforted by a several different throw pillows — thankful that it isn’t you in his place, instead.

[hai-nae]

baby, i wanna touch you. i wanna feel you in my bones.

boy, i'm gonna love you, i'm gonna tear into your soul. OR, s'ok to be a little pathetic in the face of adoration.

[oshikiri-toru]

[cod-dump]

Ghost: Sometimes I miss the solitude of the grave

Gaz: … and you said you don’t need therapy

Soap: I dare you to go say that in front of Price

[bubuslutty]

+18 mdi pls 🫵

knight!Soap who's tasked with watching over princess!reader, but in his free time he likes to train birds to steal her underwears when she goes skinny dipping when she thinks nobody knows what she's up to.

he doesn't have to follow her or anything, he stays in the castle grounds and make sure to see her when she gets back, trying to mask her frustrated and anxious feelings behind a polite smile, while Johnny is already thinking abt how he's going to add her underwear to his collection, giggle all on his own and daydream of stealing them by himself one day. maybe he'll jerk off to them in his fist that same night. maybe he'll cum all over them and make the bird drop (poor bird) them with her clothes when she goes out again. who knows.

[valkyrss]

[bunnyreaper]

everyone looks at johnny and sees someone happy go lucky--a little clueless and a lot flirtatious.

none of them really know johnny at all, you included. at least that's how you feel when he tells you he's a virgin.

(cw: noncon)

you're in completely disbelief at first, considering how much he flirts and seems like a complete ladies' man. you'd gotten the confession out of him during a private game of truth or dare, and he'd been so blushy and embarrassed. but he explains that he's just been busy, raised with the fear of god put into him about sinning and pregnancy and infections. said he's only recently learned to move past those things, but he's waiting for someone he can trust.

the look he gives you seems so fucking meaningful, his eyes sparkling and pleading and tugging at your heart strings and your cunt. you'd often rejected johnny's advances under the assumption he's a player, but this changes everything.

before you can reconsider you find yourself diving right in to kiss him, clearly something he's done before as he's so fucking good at it (and you've teased him enough for the amount of women he's stuck his tongue down the throat of during dirty dancing sessions when you go out drinking)

his hands however, move more cautiously, guided by you. the entire time as you smirk wolfishly and show him how to touch a woman, how to grope your breasts and caress your waist. he seems to pick up every lesson eagerly and easily, though asking for permission before be moves on to the next thing.

he fingers you cautiously, blue eyes fixed upon you as he gauges your every reaction, adjusts his touch to match your moans and the feedback you give him. he mutters to himself in disbelief that he can make you moan so much already, can make you feel so good.

and then you tell him you're ready, and you watch him try to hide the nerves as he rolls on a condom and positions himself over your hole.

"you ready?" you ask, and he nods, slowly sinking in and almost whining at overwhelming sensation of it all.

your own eyes flutter shut as you adjust to johnny's size, and you take a moment to reflect on how big of a deal it is, that playboy johnny is giving his virginity to you.

and then you find yourself flipped over by strong hands, his cock even deeper in your cunt as he forces your head down into the pillow and ruts into you harshly.

"thought ya were smart, bonnie. but ya really fuckin' believed me?"

his hips move furiously, his thrusts unrelenting as his hand tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at him as he snarls above you and takes you.

"of course am not a virgin, but thanks for finally letting me fuck ya." his laugh is a mix of something sinister and shocked, like he can't quite believe himself that his plan worked.

he lays over you, his muscular body trapping you between him and the mattress as the tip of his cock taps at your cervix.

"now be a good girl, lie there, and lemme show yer what you've been missin'"

[cordeliawhohung]

professor! soap staking his claim when he sees boys flirting w his bonnie

professor mactavish does not like seeing the younger teachers who work at your school flirting with you. really, they're not flirting at all. both of you are just doing your jobs keeping the young kiddos in line, but the way johnny perceives it....

he makes himself jealous thinking about how you probably run into them in the break room. how you sip on your afternoon tea and look up at them and bat your eyelashes when you should be doing that with him. he wonders how often you wear those cute little sundresses. is it all the time? they've got cute patterns on them, he's sure the kids love them. or do you just wear them when you're doing projects with him? he likes to think so.

no matter. by the time he's wooed you, won you over, and knocked you up with a couple kids of his own, you won't have the time to entertain anyone besides him and your darling children.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Slasher Handler Part 11 - Slip Lead

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Read on AO3

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Implied stalking/surveillance, implied kidnapping, physical injury, deception/emotional manipulation, physical violence, injury with knife, genuinely not enough information, hidden weapons

Something about stabbing him, about meeting Price, has resulted in you being able to stray a bit farther from Simon’s orbit. You’re still on a rather short lead, there is a list of unspoken rules between the two of you as long as your arm. But you’re going out alone more. You don’t feel Simon’s eyes on you every moment he’s out of your sight. It’s weird.

But when it comes to Simon, it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So you start a routine of going to the cafe down the street twice a week or so to work and see other human beings. It’s surprisingly difficult, some days. More than once, you’ve felt too exposed and retreated back home. These days, you have more good days than bad. As long as people don’t talk to you too much, you’re fine.

So it’s a bit jarring when someone clears his throat while you’re wrangling spreadsheets.

The man is in a light jacket, tee shirt and jeans. Looks like he works out. Kind of a stupid haircut, but he’s at least committed to it. Very distinct looking, Simon’s voice says in your head, easy to track. Unlikely to cause problems.

Something about him makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

“D’ya mind?” he gestures to the chair across from you. At your skeptical look, he rushes to assure you, “ Jus’ fer mah coffee, ‘n t’read,” holding up a thick paperback. He gestures to the rest of the cafe. “Wouldnae bother you, but this’s the only open chair.”

The shop is unusually crowded. You frown up at him. “I’m really busy.”

“Willnae hear a peep from me,” he promises, setting down his coffee and pulling out the chair across from you. He turns the chair so he’s facing more of the room instead of the corner you’re in. And he opens his book.

You watch him for a minute, but he doesn’t look up. It’s hard to shake the feeling that something is wrong, but you do need to work. With a last wary glance at him, you settle your headphones over your ears - transparency on - and get back to organizing a data set that reminds you of a ball of duct tape.

It’s time for a break before you know it. Your companion, true to his word, hasn’t said a peep since he sat down, more than an hour ago. He barely looks up as you close your laptop before turning back to his book. He does look up when you flag down one of the servers.

“Lunch,” you say, inanely. To the server, you say, “Can I get the chicken sandwich today?”

“Chips ‘n a lemonade, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

They turn to your table mate. “And for you?”

“The same, ah guess?” He raises his eyebrows at you, like he expects you to give him permission or something. He looks back at the server. “Yeah, a chicken piece for me, as well. ‘Nd a juice?”

“Separate checks?”

“Aye, ta,” the guy says. When the server leaves, he blanches. “Hope you dinnae mind.”

You do mind, but it’s not like he can sit anywhere else right now. “It’s fine.”

He sets his book on the table, and your eyebrows shoot up. Whatever you thought he’d be reading, Jurassic Park wasn’t it. He grins. “Ah ken. It’s old, yeah? But it’s a damn sight better’n the movie.”

“Isn’t that how it goes,” you say, vaguely. 

But you’ve already fallen into his trap. He turns his chair to face you, crossing his arms and leaning into the table. His eyes are unnervingly blue - somehow even bluer than Simon’s - and bright with interest. “’M serious. It’s not just that a character yells in the movie and speaks softly in the book, aye? In fact, the movie made Dr. Sattler older, aye? Great choice, emphasize ‘er expertise.” 

Aging up a woman character? You’re reluctantly intrigued. “She was a less important character in the book?”

“Nae,” the man scoffs. “She’s probably the first o’em to realize how shite the whole thing is. Notices things. Stuff the other’s aren’t payin’ attention to because she’s the plant expert, an’ naebody pays attention to plants.”

You find yourself drawn in, in spite of yourself. Johnny, as he introduces himself, has obviously been waiting for a chance to talk about it, but he’s not pushy. He excitedly pulls a pen from his pocket to doodle along with his explanations. By the time your food has arrived, he’s convinced you to at least try the audiobook.

“I cannae pay attention stuff in mah ears,” he says with a grin as he starts to dig in. “But I hear good things, if you don’t ‘ave time to sit an’ read the text.”

As you nod along, you look up and almost choke on your next swallow. Simon is outside, looking at you through the window with raised eyebrows above his usual black surgical mask. His eyes flick to give the man at your table an obvious once over. And then he turns away and walks out of sight.

“Ye alrigh’?” Johnnys’ eyebrows are up near his hairline when you look back at him. “Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, torn between staying seated and the urge to run after Simon. You can’t help but look at the window again, but he’s gone, there’s nothing for it. “Sorry, I thought… Sorry. Yeah, I’ll get the audiobook.”

When you get home, Simon is on the couch, the TV on with the volume low. He watches you, like he always does, as you take off your shoes and shuffle around to put away your things. When you finally join him on the couch, you find that he’s watching a nature documentary. A crocodile slides under the water with barely a ripple.

“He was only sitting with me because there wasn’t anywhere else,” you rush to say.

Simon turns to cock his head at you. “You get ‘is name?”

“John. Johnny,” you answer. “He told me about his book, but I left as soon as we were done eating.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. He lifts the arm closest to you, pulling you close as you settle into his side. “’S good to have friends, Precious.”

“He’s not a friend. Just some guy out to lunch like everyone else.” 

“You let him stay,” Simon points out. He squeezes you in a rough approximation of a one armed hug. “Been nervous around people, but you’re gettin’ better.”

This isn’t what you expected. You can’t help but side-eye him. “You’re… proud of me?”

Simon’s lips press gently against your forehead. “’S long as you pick better this time, I don’t mind you ‘aving friends. Can’t keep you all to myself forever. ‘Sides, you’ve marked me proper, ‘aven’t you? Got me as your little pet. Johnny’s not gonna be a problem.”

The little pink scar around his ribs is little more than a raised line. You slide your fingers under his shirt to pet at it. Among all of his scars, it’s one of the smallest. You’d cried the first time he’d let you see under the bandages.

“You’re not a pet,” you grumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re an alligator who won’t leave my house.”

“Your alligator, now,” Simon agrees. He focuses back on the television, seemingly done with the conversation.

You could leave it at that. But you turn to face him, instead. “You’re not mad?”

“Not unless ‘e ‘urts ya.” Simon presses his lips against your hair. “An’ I wouldn’t let that ‘appen.”

The following week, though, he stands over you with an exaggerated grimace at how crowded the place is. “Och, d’ya mind?”

Johnny is there the next time you go to the cafe. He waves from his table, but ducks back into his notebook without waving you over. So you work from your own table in peace. When you take a break for lunch, he’s gone. Two days later, it’s the same. It’s easier to concentrate, now that you’re less worried that he’ll take the conversation from the other day as an invitation. 

With a sigh, you clear some space for him. But just like last time, he keeps to himself, reading and occasionally jotting things down in his notebook. It’s not until just before lunch that he breaks the silence.

“D’y’ve a boyfriend then?” You can’t keep yourself from cringing fast enough, apparently, because he laughs. “Sorry, sorry, shouldnae asked.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumble.

“Aw,” he coos. “Don’ worry hen. You’re right bonnie. Ah’m sure they’ll come around, whoever they are.”

That would be sweet, if it wasn’t so painfully off base. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Oh, you’re right done wit’ me,” he laughs. “Ah ken’t I shoulda kept mah mouth shut. Ma always said runnin’ mah mouth would get me into trouble. I won’t bother ye again.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t push, and you’re grateful. But when it comes time to pay for lunch, he insists on paying. It grates on your nerves. A gift from a guy is never just generosity, you learned that long before Brandon. But you clench your jaw and pack your bag up a bit more roughly than usual and say your goodbyes.

“They didn’t have the brownies you wanted,” you announce as you return home from the grocer, two days later. “I think it was a limited edi…tion…”

You notice Simon watching through the window, but he’s there and gone before you can get a read on his expression.

There’s a smattering of blood on the entryway carpet.

You don’t drop the bag with the eggs, but only because your muscles are locked up. Did someone break into the apartment? Was Simon here when they did, or next door? Did they leave? Did he take them?

A sound makes you gasp before you bite your tongue hard enough to taste blood. And then again, a muffled groan, close, from the direction of your couch. 

It’s not Simon’s voice.

You gently set your bags down and reach behind the coats for the blackjack Simon insisted on leaving there for security. There’s a rustling. Another groan. You stoop low, trying to make yourself a smaller target, and creep around the edge of the couch.

When you see Johnny, bound and gagged, shirt covered in blood where he lies on the floor, your stomach drops so fast you feel dizzy.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whisper, dropping the jack with a thump. You crawl over to him, looking around frantically. Simon is nowhere to be seen. But he did this. He had to have done this. Right?

Johnny twitches, groans again, eyelids fluttering open. When he sees you, his eyes go wide, and he frantically tries to sit up.

“No, don’t! I don’t know where you’re hurt,” you hiss. You reach around his head to untie the cloth that’s gagging him. “Oh my god-”

“We gotta get out’f here, bonnie,” he grunts, leaning into your hands as you help him upright. He spits blood on the floor. “No tellin’ when that mental bastard gets back.”

“Oh god,” you whisper again, touching the front of his shirt. It’s dark and sticky in a bloom across his chest. “Where are you hurt? Did he stab you?”

“Ah’m okay,” he grunts. “A bit banged up, but ah’ll live.”

You swallow down the urge to vomit. “There’s a lot of blood, Johnny.”

“S’nae all mine,” he answers. “C’mon, untie me, before Simon gets back.”

You’re shifting to reach behind him before your mind catches up. You can feel the blood drain from your face. “W-what? What did you say?”

“We need to get out of here!”

“No, you said his name, you called him - ”

“Simon? That’s what ye called him when you came home,” he hisses. 

“No, I didn’t,” you whisper, body stuttering between frozen and electrified. You never call Simon’s name where others can hear. “And - and I - you - you were unconscious.”

Shining blue eyes stare into yours from two inches away. Johnny’s bloody mouth curls into a smile. “Oh, he’s trained you up good, he has.”

You scream when he lunges forward, huge arms grabbing at you. 

His weight crushes the air out of your lungs when your back hits the ground. You twist under him, using the arm he hasn’t trapped to grab his hair and yank. He swears, and loosens his hold just enough that you’re able to free your other hand and jab him in the throat.

You expect the way that he chokes, but the hand he’s twisted in the back of your shirt stays locked tight. He coughs out a frenzied laugh as you twist. Your heart races as he prevents you from getting your knees up between your belly and his. But he doesn’t expect you to hammer the heel of your boot against the back of his knee, or how you use the leverage against his leg to roll away onto your belly. 

He doesn’t let go of you, but that’s fine, that’s okay, as long as you can reach under the edge of the couch. Johnny pounces, body curling around you without quite pinning you down. His fingers twist into your hair in an echo of how you wrenched at him. But he doesn’t stop your hand, grabbing the leg of the couch and then reaching under and up and-

“Try again, Bonnie,” Johnny chuckles into your ear when your hand meets nothing but cotton and wood.

Your heart doesn’t have time to stop. The grinding pain between your hip bone and the floor makes you pop up your pelvis and reach down. The tiny knife, Little K, jumps to your hand. It’s so easy to flick it open, you think you almost cut your own belly as you heave. Johnny rides you for a moment, then pops up onto his knees to let you roll freely.

You don’t have time to decide, gut or femoral, you just swing. Denim parts, pressure - 

Johnny yelps.

His weight is suddenly gone, and the arc of your arm slams the back of your hand and your elbow onto the carpet. It’s a shock, almost hard enough to make you drop the knife. You flick your eyes around, nearly blind with tunnel vision, and see Johnny standing over you. His jeans are slashed, outer thigh almost to crotch, but you can’t see blood, fuck.

He sways, oddly. Is your vision swimming? He doesn’t descend on you again, though, just laughs and wiggles. One of his feet isn’t on the ground, his injured leg is dangling, did you get him?

You imagine you can see Simon’s face, a little angry and a little amused. If you die here, Johnny will live to see his own intestines, you know it. Even if you survive, he won’t. Simon might gift you another skull. The thought almost has a laugh bubbling out of you. 

“You stupid motherfucker,” you hiss. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it.”

Simon’s voice startles you into action. You’re off your back and scrabbling backward in and instant as he manifests behind Johnny. Except, you realize, that Simon is holding Johnny up, one arm snaked under Johnny’s and hand around the back of his neck. That’s why Johnny looks off balance, it’s because he is, because Simon is here, he’s going to save you-

“Did real good, Precious,” Simon says with a grin. “Knew you’d get along.”

What? “What?”

Simon says something else, but you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears. But you hear it when Johnny laughs. You see when Simon releases him with a ruffle to his mohawk and a shove toward the armchair. Before you know it, Simon’s scooped you into his arms and taken his usual seat on the couch. He pries the knife from your hand and snaps it closed. 

“Told you I was thinkin’ of gettin you a dog,” Simon rumbles, sitting you in his lap so your back is against his chest. Before you can protest that no, he never once mentioned a fucking dog, he continues, “This’n’s mostly ‘ousebroken, already. Soap needs a firm ‘and, but you c’n ‘andle him. 

Soap? What the fuck does soap have to do with anything? What kind of a name is…

"Oi!” Simon barks. “Off the furniture.”

Your stomach drops as you remember John Price, two months ago now. “Soap’s supposed to be my troublemaker, not you.” Soap.

When your wide eyes swing to him,  Johnny’s face is split into a toothy grin. He tips his head back against the seat of the arm chair. One of his hands touches the blood blooming through his jeans and brings it up to his lips. He laves his tongue over his fingers. “Ah’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ to know you, Bonnie.”

A part of you wants to get up and slit his throat. The rest of you slumps back into Simon’s chest and bursts into tears.

[kyuteflesh]

price / soap / f!reader

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

* soap wants u real bad + being prices property = threesome

this is just a little unfinished thought. plotting up a storm rn. unprofessional for them but let me live my fantasy pls.

⚠️: degradation, slight smut, mainly just price yapping, +18

you were the captains bitch. everyone knew that.

from the way you came out of his office stumbling, new hickeys showing up every other day.

soap had been plotting on you since day 1. unlucky for him, price got to you first. he just had the charm soap lacked ig.

was that really the case tho???? or did price just ask you out sooner?

here you were, pinned up against the wall of johnnys room. his brawny arms keeping you restricted. tonguing your mouth, wanting more.

“we can’t be doing this, johnny. if he finds out, we’re both as good as dead”

“if you would just keep it down, then he wouldn’t possi—“

that’s when a fuming price burst through the door, materials clanging so loudly against each other you were sure the knob left a hole in the wall.

soap quickly backed away from you. temperature dropping, hands clammy. looks of panic coming from both of you.

“forget to lock the door eh, mactavish? ‘m sure you won’t make that mistake again. not after i have a fuckin’ bullet going through your thick, idiotic skull.”

price approached you, you were cowering under his much taller and intimidating stature. “please don’t kill him, john. he must’ve had too much to drink- i don’t know just please!”

scowling at you, inches away from your face. you could feel the steam radiating off of him.

“don’t hurt ‘em, ey? why should i listen to a whore who can’t keep her legs closed for any man? that’s all i’m gathering out of this.” price slid his hand down your pants, running a finger between your folds.

pulling it back out, he let out a measly laugh.

soap could do nothing but nervously fiddle with his thumbs.

quite the dumbass he was, trying to enter someone else’s property. he was stuck regretting every single decision leading up to this moment.

“look at this, johnny. look at how wet youve got my little cum dump. isn’t that something?” smiling, he wiped his finger off on johnnys neck.

gulping, he finally was able to muster out a few words. “i’m so so sorry captain, sir. it won’t ever happen again i—“

“pfft, johnny, lad, you’re such a pushover. grow a pair. you wanna fuck my girl? at least let me show you how it’s done first.”

WHAT DID HE SAAAYYYY??!!!!

“what?!” you both gasped in unison.

“you heard me. now y/n,” having a seat on the bed, price started to take his dick out. it was still soft.

“make me hard. let’s put that filthy mouth of yours to good use.” he patted his lap.

you were too stunned to speak, nervously sweating, blushing.

“are you deaf all of a sudden?” price spat out. he was losing his patience.

you quickly complied, not wanting the situation to escalate any further.

you lowered down to your knees, giving his tip a soft kitten lick. you began to take his whole length in your mouth. hollowing your cheeks as you let your tongue roam.

it was only a matter of time before you could feel him stiffening, hitting the back of your throat.

price took his attention away from you, looking up to johnny. “you want this?” he beckoned, running his hands through your hair.

johnny just nodded. ashamed of the growing erection in his pants. “come take my place then”

you were in doggy, face full of johnnys cock. pussy soon to be full of john’s cock. funny!

price gave your ass a firm smack. you were nervous. this was the first thing you’ve indulged in anything of the sort (a 3sum, that is).

johnny squeezed his eyes shut. not believing what was going on. the woman of his dreams giving him the blowjob of his life. his higher up fucking you from behind.

teetering back and forth between the two, you barely needed to put any effort in.

price was fucking you hard enough to where you didn’t need to bob your head for johnny.

it would be foolish to think that none of you were enjoying this.

you got to be used as a fuck doll by these insanely hot military men. dream come true.

[theshrikeandcanary]

EVERYONE SHUT UP I JUST HAD THE BEST IDEA

tw: hint at kidnapping, slight puppy play (mostly the nickname), ties with chains

Ghost saw you across the street, you're just doing you norm moving from task to task without much thought. But ghost is bored, off duty and hyper focused on your form. In his mind he just adopted you as if puppy. And no one fucks with ghosts puppy.

God FORBID anyone even makes you frown cause their arm would be broken the minute they leave your sight. You're too pure for this world, it's not your fault, hell keep you safe. There's no need to lift your pretty head from your pillow he's got everything you need. Water, it's already on the bedside table. Hungry, he'll make you a 5 course meal. Wrist and ankle hurt from the chains? Don't worry baby he'll rub some cream on that. It's only temporary till you can be trusted around the house.

He's sweet puppy.

[tiddygame]

look, words are not wording and i don’t know shit about sharks but for the sake of mermay bear with me…

shark mer soap w/ “scary and mysterious” diver ghost who happens to hyper-fixate on sharks

he is trying so hard to be normal about it and maintain his Intimidating Presence but like ends up telling soap something that he, the actual shark here, didn’t know. he drops it so casually and soaps just flabbergasted

ghost does that a few more times and soap realizes he must be some kind of marine biologist or something and starts asking about other marine life but nope! ghost is just a guy who happens to like sharks. a lot.

the entire time ghost is fighting demons trying not to get a crush on soap purely for being a shark mer. soap is happy to not meet a human who not just isn’t scared of him, but one that wants to actively talk with him as well.

(later, once he realizes what’s up, he thinks it’s so cute but would never say a word for the sake of ghosts ego. also because soap would cry if he stopped the “stilted conversation because A is doing everything they can to not info dump/sound like their talking down to B but it’s still clear that they know more about the subject than you could learn in an entire semester at college”. they’re his favorite part of ghosts visits)

[furiosophie]

Ghost lets himself be pulled up slightly, his hand just as steady on Soap's thigh. "That what you need, Johnny?" he asks, licking his lips behind the balaclava. Soap’s eyes drop to his mouth, flick back up. "You wanna draw blood? Be in control?" "Lt–" Soap starts, lips parted on a rough exhale. A plea or a warning, Ghost can't tell. He's too focused on the way Soap's pupils dilate, and the way the edge of the knife digs into the fabric at his throat. When Graves rears his head not ten days after Las Almas Ghost starts questioning Soap's loyalty, and with it whatever's left of his own sanity.

not from the absence [read on ao3]

ship: john "soap" mactavish/simon "ghost" riley

words: 41,011, completed

tags: canon-typical violence, post-cod mw2 (2022), the boys deal poorly with the las almas fallout, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, literal sleeping together, hurt/comfort, but the kind where you cut each other open with a knife, mutual pining, unresolved sexual tension, emotional constipations more fucked up cousin, mostly bc ghost buried his feelings deeper than his own corpse, post-traumatic stress disorder, unhealthy coping mechanisms, whats wrong with me is also wrong with you typa vibe, minor character death, (none of the 141), ghost POV, 09 ghost backstory, epistolary elements, not beta read we die like roach

COVER/CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5

[4byun]

spot the difference. 99% of people FAIL.

[yuesgirlfriend]

Ghoap x reader except when Johnny’s bad, Ghost makes him sit on the edge of the bed, hands tied, while he fucks reader. If Johnny whines for a taste or a touch or anything, and Ghosts feeling generous, he will let Johnny give his cock puppy-licks; just enough for a bit of a taste, but not enough to satisfy the pups need for his mouth to be properly used. “Doesn’t our girl taste good, pup?” And he can only whine as Ghost goes right back to fucking reader.