#soap mw2

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

Pair: Soap x Neighbor!Reader

You were leaning up on your toes to kiss your one night stand goodbye by the door when it happened again—timing, or fate, or just shitty neighbor luck.

The door across the hall creaked open, and there he was. Soap. Shirt damp with sweat, his hair matted to his forehead, jacket slung over one broad shoulder as if it weighed nothing. He paused when he saw you. Blinked once. Then that damn smirk.

"Morning," he said, with just the slightest rasp. “Busy night?”

You stiffened slightly, glancing down the hall to make sure your guest had in fact gone. He had. Thank God.

“What makes you say that?” you replied smoothly, leaning on the doorframe, the door halfway closed behind you.

Soap chuckled. “Walls are thin, sweetheart.”

That was how it started. Right there, in the hallway. What was meant to be mortifying somehow twisted into playful. You laughed off his comment, made a snarky remark back. One thing led to another, and suddenly the two of you were leaning against opposite walls, openly discussing favorite positions, kinks, dirty talk, the works. Soap didn’t hold back—didn’t seem like the type to ever hold back. You weren’t exactly innocent, either.

Still, nothing came of it. Just words, playful jabs, that annoying magnetic energy that lingered even after you parted ways.

A couple nights passed. Then it was your turn.

You’d just curled into bed with a book when it started—soft at first, then louder, more rhythmic. His voice, unmistakable, deep and raw and commanding. A woman’s moans followed, high and breathless. And as much as you wanted to be annoyed, you weren’t. If anything… you listened.

Maybe too closely.

You weren’t proud of it, but you sure as hell weren’t gonna lie about how your thighs pressed together by the end of it.

Another few days passed.

You were stepping out again, all dressed up for your second date with your prior one-night stand. Lip gloss shining, dress hugging your hips in all the right places. The elevator dinged, and you turned—

Only to nearly bump right into Soap, back from work, smelling like leather and gunpowder.

He gave you a once-over, slow and deliberate. “Well, damn. Where you headed looking like that?”

You smiled politely. “Second date.”

His brow quirked. “With the loud one?”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh. “Yes, with the ‘loud one.’”

Soap nodded slowly. Then, just before stepping past you, he paused.

“I don’t think he can fuck you as good as I can.”

The words hit you like a slap—and a slow lick of heat all at once.

You stared. “Excuse me?”

He tilted his head, not a hint of apology in his tone. “Just saying. I heard you with him. Heard you with me too—or rather, talking about it. And I don’t think he’s got it in him like I do.”

You wanted to deny it, throw some sarcastic quip back at him, but you couldn’t. Not when you’d heard him the other night. Not when you were still thinking about it.

So instead, you murmured, “What am I supposed to do about my date, then?”

Soap leaned in, close enough for you to smell his cologne and sweat and sin.

“Rain check,” he said. “Because tonight? My plan is to fuck you after a long goddamn day.”

You hesitated for half a second. Then you stepped back inside your apartment, grabbing his hand. You didn’t bother turning the lights on. You just backed away, slowly, into the dark of your apartment, eyes fixed on the doorway—on him.

Soap followed. Calm. Confident. Closing the door behind him without ever looking away from you.

“You’re really doing this?” you breathed, half in disbelief, half already aching.

He dropped his bag by the door and stepped forward. “I told you what my plan was.”

You opened your mouth, but your back hit the wall—and then his hands were on your hips, gripping, grounding, dragging you against him like he already owned your next breath.

His lips ghosted your jaw first. “You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you?”

You swallowed. “About what?”

“My voice. My girl. The way I had her moaning through the walls.”

Your breath hitched.

“Yeah,” he murmured, lips brushing your throat. “I know you did.”

You hated how right he was.

His mouth claimed yours then—no teasing, no easing into it. Just heat and hunger, tongue sliding past your lips like he couldn’t be bothered to ask permission. You melted under him, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other tugging at his shirt like you wanted skin and muscle and more.

“Dress off,” he ordered softly.

You stepped back and peeled it off, slow, letting the straps fall one at a time. Letting his eyes trace every inch. He let out a low whistle when it hit the floor.

“Fuck me,” he said under his breath, licking his lips. “Didn’t know I was comin�� home to a goddamn fantasy.”

You rolled your eyes but blushed anyway. “Then hurry up and do something about it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He had you pressed to the wall again, this time his hands roaming, rough palms sliding over your waist, your ass, down your thighs.

“Wanna hear how good you sound up close,” he rasped, fingers slipping past the waistband of your panties. “Bet you’re already soaked.”

You whimpered as he touched you—right.

“Christ,” he growled, two fingers sliding easily against you. “You are. This for your date?”

You shook your head. “For you.”

“Damn right.”

You barely had time to process before he was picking you up—effortless, strong, like he knew you wanted it that way—and carrying you toward the couch. He didn’t even bother stripping himself all the way. Just pushed his pants low enough, teeth clenched with restraint as he lined himself up.

“You sure you want this?” he asked, voice hoarse against your neck.

“Been wanting it since the hallway,” you breathed.

That was all it took.

He pushed in slow, stretching you with a grunt, your breath catching at the delicious pressure. He filled you deep, staying there for a moment, just enough to feel the shudder ripple through your body.

And then he moved.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw—like all that tension, all that teasing between you had finally snapped, and neither of you wanted to waste a second pretending you weren’t starving.

“Fuck—Johnny—” you gasped, nails digging into his back.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Say my name again.”

He hit something devastating inside you, and you obeyed.

“Johnny—”

“Louder.”

“Johnny—!”

He didn’t stop until your moans echoed the way his had a few nights ago. Until the couch creaked beneath the rhythm of his hips. Until he had you trembling, unraveling, gripping him like you never wanted him to leave.

And when you finally came—shaking, gasping, helpless—he held you there through it, voice low and filthy in your ear.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

You were still catching your breath, clinging to his shoulders as aftershocks rolled through you. His forehead rested against yours, both of you slick with sweat, hearts pounding like you’d sprinted through a warzone.

For a while, neither of you said anything. Just breathing.

Then Soap pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Soft. Startlingly gentle after how hard he’d just taken you.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, voice husky but careful.

You nodded against him. “More than alright.”

He chuckled, lips curving against your skin. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

“Not even close,” you teased, though your legs were still shaking where they wrapped around him.

He shifted back, keeping one arm tight around your waist while his other hand smoothed your hair back, tucking a damp strand behind your ear. His gaze flicked over you—face, neck, lips—with something almost… warm.

“You’re still tremblin’,” he murmured. “C’mere.”

You didn’t resist as he lifted you again, carrying you with the same ease over to the couch’s throw blanket, still half-crumpled from earlier. He grabbed it, wrapped it around your shoulders, and sat down with you straddling his lap. He was still half-dressed, but you were bare and enveloped in his warmth now—his hand rubbing soft, idle circles on your back, the other slipping around your waist.

You exhaled into his neck, your body still humming from what he’d done to you. Still drunk on the taste of it.

“Didn’t think you were the cuddly type,” you murmured.

He tilted his head to grin at you, all teeth and heat, but his hand never stopped its gentle rhythm against your spine.

“I’m not,” he said, mock-serious. “This is strictly tactical. Keepin’ your legs from giving out when you try to walk to the shower.”

You laughed softly, hiding your face in his neck.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Aye, but I’m right.”

He kissed your temple, almost absentmindedly, like he didn’t even register the intimacy of it. You felt your chest ache at the tenderness threading through his earlier cockiness.

After a moment, he leaned back to look at you again—messy, flushed, and still in his lap.

“So,” he said. “Still goin’ on that second date?”

You snorted. “Pretty sure I already did.”

His grin widened. “Hope I made a good impression.”

“You made something,” you muttered, shifting slightly—and making him groan.

“You keep doin’ that and I’ll have to make you another one.”

“Johnny—”

He pulled you closer, voice softening again as he brushed his lips along your cheek.

“Relax, love. You’re not goin’ anywhere tonight. Let me take care of you a bit.”

And just like that, the cocky soldier was gone again—replaced by the man with warm hands, calm eyes, and a firm hold that felt like the safest place you’d ever landed.

And maybe you didn’t mind the sound of his voice through the walls anymore.

[nrdmssgs]

Masterlist

[phoenixdeleted]

trust this is what happened, trust

MW III fix-it shitpost

Price: Soap! I thought you were dead??? Gaz: Holy shit man! What the fuck!? Ghost: We spread your ashes, what the hell-? Soap: Idk who's ashes you were spreading but they weren't mine man idk what to tell you

[mutant-okuri-inu]

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish 🧼

Friday art of Soap! ❤️ and with watermark too yeeee

Shares are appreciated!

[luul013]

Oven day yesterday

[sgt-cheetoh]

Poly tf141 that helps each other get rid of stress after a rough operation?

Gaz helping to soothe Soap’s coiled muscles with a massage; the Scot taking time before melting into the touch with a quiet noise of contentment.

Price who tries to ground Ghost back to the present with quiet conversation or a small press of his fingers to the lieutenant’s wrist to remind Ghost that everything was fine. That it happens. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Soap who notices Price lost in his head, staring blankly at a wall with slight twitches of his fingers. He knows that look. It was when the captain was blaming himself for what went wrong, trying to work out in his thoughts of all the things he could’ve done to save the mission and not make a mess of things. The sergeant offering the chance for Price to talk things out - and if that doesn’t work then he simply presses himself against or on top of Price like a weighted blanket to help ground him.

[blackcrayons]

🧼 "How ye like it, lass~?"

You know that Scottish tradition says to wear nothing underneath, riiight? 👀🔥

[sugarcherris]

Blowing a kiss to Johnny “Soap” MacTavish is like pulling the pin on a glitter grenade—you never know where the spark’s gonna land.

It’s always a gamble.

You think you’re being cute.

You think he’ll catch it with a wink, maybe tap his heart like a gentleman.

One moment he’s beaming, catching it mid-air with dramatic flair like it’s a bloody dove, eyes glinting like he’s just intercepted enemy comms. Smacking it dramatically onto his chest with a proud “Ach! Right in the ticker! you spoil me, bonnie.” he’ll murmur, staggering backward like you just shot him with a Cupid .50 cal.

The crowd swoons. Children cheer. Birds sing.

The next time?

Public place. Full squad around. Briefing room. You blow that kiss and he catches it with two hands… locks eyes with you… then—with full confidence and zero shame—plants it straight on his crotch. Smack. Hands on his hips. Grinning like a menace. “That’s where I felt it, lass. Don’t lie.”

Everyone turns.

Gaz groans. Ghost doesn’t even look up. Alejandro claps. And Price? He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters, “For the love of bloody God, Soap…”

Soap just winks at you across the room like he did you a favor.

It’s 50/50 chaos. You blow that kiss, you’re playing Russian Roulette with your dignity.

[journen]

So this was the page art I did for the Sunshine Soap Zine. 🧡 Soap and Ghost taking advantage of some quiet downtime on a mission as they wait to head back out again...

[hurrraaid]

Okay... I'll admit this got away from me but just... GOD I love them so much.

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

Pair: Soap x ExFWB!Reader

[Voicemail — 2:06 AM] CONTACT: Johnny MacTavish Soft chuckle, but there's no humor in it. Saw your post. You and him all wrapped up like it means somethin’. Guess it’s official now, eh? You finally upgraded. Guess I’m just the warm-up act.

Pause. He clears his throat, his voice drops a little. Funny thing is… I remember when you first started seein’ him. Real sweet about it, like you didn’t want to hurt me—but you still showed up at my place with your panties in your pocket and my name on your tongue. You remember that?

You were in my bed between his dates. All that blushing and actin’ shy like you were some good little girl—then ridin’ me like I was your last breath. You think he’d still smile like that in your photos if he knew you were moanin’ for me two nights before he took you to dinner?

Beat. His breathing picks up slightly.

Tell me—does he touch you the way I did? Does he even know what to do with you? Or does he play it safe, slow, sweet… like he doesn’t wanna ruin his perfect little girlfriend?

’Cause I ruined you, love. I made sure of it. Every time I had you cryin’ on my cock, shakin’ in my sheets—I was makin’ it harder for anyone else to ever measure up. I branded you. And you fuckin’ loved it.

Another beat. The sound of shifting fabric, a subtle breath through gritted teeth.

You know what the worst part is? It’s not just the way you looked underneath me, or the things you said when your head was thrown back and your nails were in my back—it’s your voice. The way you said my name when you meant it. When it came out like a prayer and a curse all at once.

He laughs quietly—bitter, breathless. And now I’m sittin’ here, hard as a fuckin’ rock, just thinkin’ about it. About you. About your thighs around my waist. About the way you’d shiver when I said your name right up against your ear. Right before you fell apart.

There’s a pause. Then, slowly, deliberately: My hand’s on my cock now. You did this. Not him. You. Just from thinkin’ about the way you tasted… the way you begged me to keep goin’ even when your legs were shakin’. You remember that night? You said it was the last time—lied right through your teeth—and I still bent you over the sink before you could leave.

Breathing gets heavier, words start to falter slightly between low grunts. Fuck, bonnie… I miss that mouth. That heat. I miss you.

Just come over. One more time. You know you want to. He doesn’t have to know. Let me have you. Let me wreck you for him. You know you’ll be thinkin’ about me anyway when he’s on top of you.

There’s a sudden shift—his voice turns raw, a whisper through clenched teeth as he groans. Jesus Christ… ahh… fuck— Long exhale. Silence. Then a soft, broken laugh. This is so fuckin’ pathetic. What am I doin’? You’re probably listenin’ to this in his bed. This is… this is so fuckin’ embarrassing. Just delete this, yeah?

[Voicemail ends]

[Your phone stays clutched in your hand, screen gone black. You’re still breathing like he’s whispering in your ear. You hate how much you miss his voice. How easily he crawled back under your skin. "One last time," he said. Just one. How bad could it be?]

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Soap putting you in a headlock when fucking you into the mattress, his chest against your back as his hips snap against the fat of your ass. You're clawing against his forearm which only makes him chuckle and comment about how feisty you are while he hits so deep inside you that you damn near scream.

Biting down hard enough to leave indents on his bicep and not letting go until he uses his other hand to wrench your head away by your hair with a snarl. Snapping your jaw at him while he stares down with feral blue eyes, "Ye wannae play rough?"

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

HEAR ME OUT

Let's Get Physical series

pt.2

I need hooker!Soap but with a shy college student who needs help with her physics assignment. She can't go to her professor (he's a dick), and she doesn't really have friends and doesn't wanna seem like an idiot for needing help.

She somehow hears about Soap and hears how he used to be a sniper and demolition expert. That means he knows math and physics, right? There's a confidentiality rule, right? She buys one hour, and when he walks in, he thinks it's just the usual. But she's got her too heavy backpack with some books and worksheets. Okay, so she has a schoolgirl fantasy, easy enough. Except she starts rambling about how she needs help, and her assignment is due soon, and she's stuck. Okay, so she's deep in the fantasy, alright.

She explains she doesn't want sex. She just actually needs help. She knows he knows this shit, and she has no one else to go to. He's slightly baffled, considering most people just get straight into jumping his bones. But no. It's just a shy little thing that needs an A on her physics assignment.

Well, she already paid for the hour, and she's so pretty all flustered like that, who is he to turn her away? Show him the page, hen.

[rejected-reapermain]

Don’t touch his Soap 🧼 >:/

[girl-lostconnection]

Eating my orange in the dark and thinking about fruit bat hybrid!Reader x hybrid!141.

When they don’t exactly realise that she is not a usual bat and still joke about vampires and drinking blood while their new addition to the team is fucking vegetarian.

Wolf!Ghost makes a joke about bloodsuckers and Reader just gives him a slow blink and says “Lieutenant, my species are frugivores” and leaves him floored because first of all, what the FUCK are frugivores???

Komodo Dragon!Price opens their file back because he thought he was sent a bat as the new underling and the file is like yeah, you got sent a bat. A FRUIT bat, you old geezer.

Harbour Seal!Soap is just astounded by how much fruit they eat (fruit bats are known to eat anywhere from 50% to 150% of their body weight in fruits) while Harpy Eagle!Gaz is thrilled to have someone who finally GETS him (harpy eagles have the largest talons of any living eagle and males have been seen to carry prey roughly half of their own body weight).

Later the pack finds out that fruit bats have not one but two breeding seasons. Reader will need to fight them off with a stick because “back up, lads, I said BACK UP”. After all they are a hybrid, not an actual fruit bat.

[luul013]

Party………..?

WIP