Soap X Reader - Blog Posts

What binds us // 2

John 'Soap' MacTavish / fem!Reader

Summary:   Returning home as soon as he is able, Soap can‘t help but hope that his wife will reconsider their divorce. 

Content:   civilian wife, lots of hurt/angst and some comfort, divorce (?), swearing, coming-home-from-deployment

Word Count:   2.6k

Part:   1/2/3 <- previous chapter next chapter ->

Notes: I finally got around to finishing the second chapter! Had to write this one in my phone notes, so please forgive any mistakes you might find. I felt so bad for him halfway through, but tried to stay strong. 💔 They also own a cat, everybody say hi to Salome - 🐈

True to his word, Price had arranged a flight home within 72 hours of his first message, and Soap didn‘t even bat an eye at the eye-watering extra fees for his checked luggage and business class upgrade. 

He‘d been all wired up since his wife had called him. He snapped and shouted at everyone except Lieutenant Ghost (he wasn‘t suicidal enough for that - yet) that came too close, asked stupid questions or even dared to simply breathe too loudly in his proximity. Soap felt himself unravel at the edges, one carefully placed stitch at a time.

Only the extensive therapy he‘d been dragged to over the years gave him enough of an outside perspective on the turmoil inside of himself to realize that all that molten hot anger was not directed at the useless driver, or the informant who didn‘t seem to be able shut the fuck up for a moment.

No. Soap knew that all the irritation and itch to hurt was directed at himself. That he‘d messed up badly this time, that it had been going on for months and he‘d been too focused on other things to see it. Or maybe he‘d just suppressed the sadness in his wife‘s voice, the silences and half-assed answers when he asked her about her day and immediately accepted her fine‘s and the usual‘s.

He had been such a colossal prick looking back, it was kind of astonishing that she‘d held out and waited for him as long as she had. Soap had scrolled back through their conversations, had listened to some of her older voice messages, read his own excuses for cancelling again and again.

And even though she‘d assured him that his training and the missions and his career was more important, he should have been better than that. Should have watched out for her, cared more - not lost himself in the work that ate away at his soul and mind when the cure for all his aches was waiting at home.

Soap rubbed over his eyes angrily as he stared out the plane window, long legs stretched far away from himself. The seat to his left was blissfully empty thanks to his second reservation under her name. The stewardess had given up on offering food, but steadily poured him another glass of Scotch when he pressed the little button on the menu screen.

His eyes felt dry and raw, and Soap wasn‘t ashamed to admit to himself that he‘d been on the verge of tears for three days now. His wife had tried calling him twice more since he‘d hung up, then texted him that he shouldn’t do anything stupid. 

Don‘t come home for this, John. I will always be here for you regardless. 

He brushed his thumb over the message, and was silently thankful for the forced airplane mode. The drinks in his system made his thoughts run even wilder, insecurities and fears that most army men carried in their hearts rising up in his throat.

Is there someone else? He wanted to type back. Is that why you don‘t want me to fix it?

But Soap knew she‘d never hurt him in such a way, that she truly thought they‘d be better off on their own. He would just have to prove her wrong.

Soap barely registered the landing, the extensive security screenings and double checking of his gun licenses, then military clearance. It was all standard procedure, he was able to answer their questions in his sleep. 

The only difference was that his wife wasn‘t there to greet him, wasn‘t standing ready with one of those airport luggage trolleys that always seemed to have at least one jammed wheel. The knowledge didn’t stop him from looking for her, traitorous heart beating fast and then dropping into his stomach at her absence. 

Glasgow wasn‘t very busy at this time of night, on a Tuesday no less, and the taxi driver was content to let the meter run when Soap asked him to wait outside the 24 hours supermarket. He picked up the disgusting stuffed olives she loved so much, briefly contemplating flowers before abandoning the thought. They‘d never been that kind of couple, and he didn‘t want to start putting on a mask when what he really needed to do was strip himself.

For the first time since they‘d bought their small house he was glad that she hadn‘t listened to him about completely replacing all the street facing windows with milk glass. Soap was able to see her clearly, sitting at the low sofa table with her legs tucked underneath herself and their fat ginger cat on her lap as she typed away at something. 

Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, face bare and pale in the glow of the laptop, and he oddly felt like he was intruding on a scene not meant for his eyes.

It took him a couple more moments to unglue his feet from the sidewalk, to push open the rusty door of the little path lined with colored pebbles that ended in their front door. He‘d been meaning to replace it, along with their postbox - when had that been? Two years ago now?

He fiddled with his keys, anxious. What did it say about him that he felt like a stranger standing outside his own home?

Shaking his head and dropping his heavy bags, he rung the doorbell instead.

There was a beat of silence, and Soap could just picture his wife raising her head away from the screen, how Salome had probably squeezed herself under the armchair, hissing. Neither one of the women in his life liked it when unannounced visitors came around.

Then the faint glow from the livingroom became brighter, he could see it through the colorful glass shards of the entrance door - how the dark shape of her moved closer. She hesitated on the other side. He wondered if he could take the blow of her not answering the door, or if his heart would shatter right here on their doorstep with the faint drizzle of rain dampening his curls.

But then she cracked the door open, her big eyes peering up at him for a moment. They stared at each other, and then she exhaled shakily, resting her forehead on the chipped wood. 

"You came," his wife whispered, and Soap ducked his head down to her level, shoulder against the frame as he fought hard not to beg her to open the door further and let him in.

"f'course I did," he rasped, shocked at the raw need in his voice. "Said I would, didn’t I?"

She blinked her eyes back open, and it seemed like she was holding back words heavy on her tongue. That was okay, he knew what she was thinking anyway: wouldn‘t have been the first time you said one thing and did another.

"But you were out on a mission."

There was no question, but he nodded anyway.

"I was."

"And then you left early."

"Yes, ma‘am." 

She snorted, then pulled open the door more firmly and stepped aside. Soap stumbled inside, immediately assaulted by warmth and the smell of her that permeated their home. It was dizzying and intoxicating and it made him want to curl up in a ball and weep.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, apparently unbothered that it was two in the morning and that he was dripping all over her nice new carpet in the entryway. 

"Starving," he breathed, then followed her like a lost puppy as she disappeared into the kitchen. 

Soap felt wrong-footed, clumsy and awkward as he wrung his hands and watched her reheat a plate of spaghetti.

His wife hugged herself around the middle, staring at the rotating dish in the microwave.

He wanted to tell her to be careful as she took it out with her bare hands instead of using the cute oven mitts she‘d gotten from her sister, but all he managed was a weak thanks as she put it down next to him on the kitchen island. 

They stood there, and she didn‘t meet his eyes anymore as Soap stared down at the crown of her head. They were close and yet there seemed to be a chasm, an ocean impossible to cross right between them. He might as well have been back in Afghanistan.

"Baby," he whispered, clutching the countertop so tightly that his knuckles turned white. She shook her head, then leaned away from him with yet another shaky exhale and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"Mo ghràidh," Soap tried again, undeterred. "Can I hug you?"

"I-" she started, voice thick. "I don‘t know if I want that."

"Okay," he agreed, heart stinging. "Will you keep standing with me just like this then?"

She nodded slowly, leaning against the counter next to him and staring at the floor. 

When he didn‘t move, too busy drinking her in, she nudged him softly in the side. 

"It‘ll go cold."

"I‘m not actually hungry."

"Oh." It was a faint sound, somewhere between exasperated and amused. "I see."

They stood like that for some time, the rain heavier now as it hit the windows in a steady rhythm. Soap almost jumped out of his skin when something warm and furry circled around his legs, purring.

"Fuckin‘ cat is lucky I‘m not carrying," he swore, nudging Salome with his boot in greeting. She purred even louder, rubbing her chin along his shins. 

His wife giggled, then scooped the gingery monster into her arms. The one green eye that wasn‘t blind yet sparkled in the half-dark, and their cat meowed loudly at Soap.

"She just missed you," she smiled, kissing the scarred ears for a moment.

And did you? He wanted to ask, but swallowed the words down. It seemed like he‘d reached his limit of things he was able to leave unsaid for the night though, because the next question slipped out before he could stop himself.

"Did you call the lawyer again?" 

She stiffened a little, then glanced up at him from behind long eyelashes.

"Yeah," his wife said slowly, thinking hard. "She wasn‘t very happy that I called you. Thinks you‘ll talk me out of it." 

Damn right I am.

"What," he scoffed, arms crossed in defense of what might follow next. "She wanted you to just… send the finished papers?"

"Something like that."

Soap ground his teeth hard, trying not to panic again. 

"Well, I‘m glad you didn‘t listen."

"I wanted to," she confessed, and now it was him who couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. "I wanted it so badly, John. I‘ve been miserable and alone, and our whole life just seems to suffocate me recently."

"I‘m sorry," he said, and meant it with his whole heart. "I know I fucked up, that I should have been better for you-"

"No," she interrupted him, and reached out a hand, resting it on his bicep. Her small fingers were cold but it made him feel warm regardless. "I didn’t need you to be better, I just wanted you to be there."

His throat closed up, and Soap let his head drop far enough to rest his chin on his chest, trying to keep the tears at bay. Their cat meowed between them, as he rested one hand on hers without glancing up.

"I lost sight of what was most important t’me," he whispered. "‘s not an excuse but… bein’ out there, it just fucks up your perspective. Days bleed into one big messed up pile of monotonous tasks, violence, and death. I‘m not a good man, never pretended to be. You knew that when you married me, and never blamed me for it. And… I love you so fucking much, it hurts to even just think-"

He had to pause, drag one hand over his face roughly. 

His wife sighed softly, then rested her cheek on his arm where their hands were joined. 

"I know I hurt you, badly. And I know that you said you‘d stay in my life as a friend, but you‘re not. You never have been. You‘re my soulmate, my wife, and I-" Soap swallowed, torn between wanting to get it all out and crawl deeper into himself. "I want us to try again. Price offered three weeks of leave, but if I have to find a doctor that can testify how fucked in the head I am so I can stay longer, I will." 

"John!" She gasped, grabbing his chin to force him into facing her again. "You know that a bad psych eval might mean the end of your entire career!" 

Thinking about that hurt, but not as much as her phone call had. 

"I‘d do it for you," he whispered back. "I‘ll say that-"

"Shut up," she hissed, then dropped Salome on the countertop and shoved the cold spaghetti towards him. "Eat this, and then you‘ll go sleep on the sofa. I don‘t want to hear any of this nonsense."

"But-"

"No."

Chastened, Soap carried his plate into the dim living room and tried very hard not to take a peek at the still open website on his wife‘s laptop. There was a strange sense of relief when he noticed that all their wedding and travel pictures were still up on the walls, and he fiddled with his ring as he slumped heavily on the sofa.

The food was good as always, and he didn’t try to protest when she dragged in two pillows and a blanket, carefully putting it down next to him. 

She stood there for a moment, looking down at him with soft, sad eyes. Soap balanced his plate on a cushion nearby, then gently pulled her closer by the hips until she stood between his legs and he was able to bury his face in her stomach.

His wife didn’t move for a few long heartbeats, then stroked through his mohawk and all the way down to the top of his spine. Soap exhaled sharply, and hugged her, unable to speak as she comforted him when it really should have been the reverse. 

And much, much later, when the lack of sleep and constant worry finally caught up with him, she didn’t comment on the tear-stained blotches on her shirt, or the way his head hit the pillow way too hard. She draped the feathery soft blanket all around him, and the perfume of her skin and laundry detergent was the most heavenly thing he‘d smelt in months.

Just as he closed his swollen and dry eyes, his wife bent down - Soap held his breath as she kissed his forehead and cheekbone.

"We can talk again in the morning, my love," she whispered, and all he managed to do was squeeze her hand one last time before she packed up her things and left.

Tiny, clawed footsteps - then the sudden heavy weight of their cat on his hip startled him from a restless slumber, and Soap groggily patted the gnarled ears as he instinctively listened out for danger nearby. 

"You think we still got a chance, old girl?" He asked, and Salome meowed back. 

<- previous chapter || last chapter ->

My general COD writing masterlist with all my stories including this one, a COD headcanons masterlist + the COD Halloween Monster Special. It‘s all linked separately in my pinned blog post for easy navigation as well!

taglist of the people that commented/reblogged on the last chapter 💖: @alittlejudgemental @igotchuuknj @yyiikes @avidreadee123 @astraluminaaa @sunshinevs3 @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @muffinsncoffee @devcica @alwaysshallow @thebeesatemyknees

If I didn’t tag you, it means that your blog settings don‘t allow it! 🥺

Hopefully everybody got through their Monday alright, I‘m literally fighting demons to even set an alarm for tomorrow lmao. Much love and slobbery kisses! - A✨

pink dividers by @cafekitsune 🌟

I love me a man who EATS like I think I definitely have a food kink cause like the image of going down on Soap while he monches on a burger AGHHSGKDJHSKSBKN Like I need his cock rn (also side note love the term chub or instead calling a cock fat calling it chubby like 😮‍💨😮‍💨)

Another Random Cod Thot!!!!

soap x reader.

Cw: swearing... honestly that's it this part is pretty chill. (There's a nsfw bit at the end but you don't have to read it! I've sectioned it off!)

When Soap comes back home from being deployed for god knows how long, it's like he's walked through the gates of heaven. There's literally nothing he loves more than coming home, taking off that god forsaken uniform, and lounging about in some shorts (And nothing else. Because he's a lazy fuck and it's his house. he can choose not to wear underwear or a shirt whenever he fuckin wants!).

And the food...God the foooooooooood. It's probably his favourite part of coming home. No more MREs. No more mess hall food. No more stale bread with a slathering of some indescribable spread. Finally, he can eat like a king.

And he'll eat just about everything and anything you serve him. Takeout? Abso-fucking-lutely. Quick 10 minute packet food? He'll be having seconds and thirds if you let him. A proper home-cooked meal? Just marry him now, for god sakes.

I have this image in my head of him on leave, lazing on the bed in just his underwear with his large hairy chest on display, heaving in deep content sighs as he absolutely devours a pack of donuts you brought home and savouring every second of it. It's his personal bliss.

NSFW BIT BELLOW CUT

Cw: Freeuse (Reader using Soap). BJs. Big hairy horny man.

There's also the added benefit of a limitless supply of BlowJobs on your part. And he's a free use kinda guy when he's on leave. You never have to ask to take his fat cock out of his boxers, sweetheart. He's already half chubbed for you.

It's not like you can resist him anyway. He walks around the house in exclusively his undewear and nothing else. You can see the print of his dick against the fabric as he goes to town on a burger you made for him.bAnd he moans like a whooooooooore when he eats. So no one can blame you when you cozy yourself up into his side and slide his boxers down just enough to get a taste of that bright leaky tip of his.

So he gets excellent food, a warm bed, and a partner who is more than happy to wrap their lips around his dick and go to town whenever they like? He could die right there and be the happiest man alive. This is a better reward than any medal they could give him for his service.

Damn that shit was close, but the people have spoken another Nikto thought it is

Writing ideas

Writing ideas

Ooh, I saw you’re taking requests, and firstly wanted to say: welcome! 💖🙌🏻 I know starting writing can be daunting, but I personally think it’s all about just letting your creativity out and having fun with it 💕

I was wondering if I could request (sort of headcanons or small blurbs if you’re up for it?) of like, first kisses w the guys? Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, König… I also love Rudy, too. But I’ll let you pick! Please and thank you 🥰

Ugh I love this! I’ll definitely post it soon!

And thank you so much for the words of encouragement, it is a kind of daunting task, but I’m letting my creativity flow. Thank you!!!

idk if you’re into writing smutty stories, but if so, may I request a Soap x Reader fic where they use the safe word and ends up being fluffy in the end :3?

So sorry for the inactivity I’ve been away, I absolutely love your idea so much, I’ve gotta learn how to write smut better but once I do your idea will be the first I write!

Requests???

Hello everybody! I am new to writing fics and I want to start, if anyone has any requests don’t hesistate to give them to me. Here are the characters I am writing for at the moment:

COD:

Price

Ghost

Soap

Gaz

Graves

Alejandro

Rudy

Nikto

König

NAVIGATION

ABOUT ME

ETC

Hey hey first things first ! On here I would like to be referred to a Beau! I’m a fanfic writer for a few fandoms in which you can find on my masterlist as well!

Down Below the cut is my MasterList to the things I write! So far there’s only COD stuff cause majority of my friends enjoy that 😅

I do want to put a trigger warning on here! And I will also put trigger warnings on the writing themselves! I tend to write a lot of angst and smut because I’m very bad at coming up with full fledged out plots sometimes but aha! Oh well—

MasterList

Call of Duty

- John Price

LOVERS CREEK ; click here !

- Simon Ghost Riley

- Kyle Gaz Garrick

- Johnny Soap MacTavish

MORE TO COME..

Ask box is open!

Okay I got some headcanons of Soap and Civilian Reader in the wips 👁👁 and i plan to finish tonight or tmr ???

Thinking about this cod fanfic and I need help finding it 💀💀

I think it was either soap or ghost?? Maybe even Konig??? Or price??? And like, they have a wife reader who takes care of 1-2 kids. And like, the fathers at the school thinks she's a single mom and always flirt with her. Because they never see Soap/Ghost/Konig around. And mom/wife reader is friendly cause she's like,"it's the right thing to do right??"

And so once Soap/Ghost/Konig are home for a bit, the kids tell them and attends the kids/school event going on dressed in their military gear or smth. And like, the dads are shocked and the moms flirt over him n stuff.

Idk it's been on my mind 💀💀 por favor I need that fic found LMAO

Guys I got a haircut. I'm rocking that mid-length style after years of growing out my hair down to my ass lol.

Guess that means that's going into a CoD geadcanon ;P

Stay turned for that!

Umg umg umg, i hope you would like this request 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I have two to shared but you could choose one 🥺 (bruhhhh, i hope my English is good enough to be understood)

1. (NSFW) Reader had some injured in the past about their jaw that they can't open their mouth widely (just about 2.5 to 3cm). When they try to eat a quite big cumcuber, they have to bite slowly each pieces and tell others that "I hate this, can't eat something big". When 141 members see it, they immediately have a thought "So how could they take my cock?" even they don't even mean that. What do you think they (141) would react about their thought? I guess Ghost will be really annoyed by his thought 🤣 (anyway i do have that problem so whenever i want to eat a spoon of something, i have to adjust it to fit my mouth @@ that's so pissed off)

2. (SFW) For some reasons reader have to pretend that they betray 141. Maybe they have to make the enemies believe that they're in the enemies' side (reader is a spy, perhap), or you just can choose to not mention it. But reader can't tell 141 to keep their (141) safety. I wish i could know their reaction about reader's betrayal and what if reader's eyes redden or even cry while they try to keep straight face during the betrayal scene 🥺

It’s 1:02 a.m. here, and I was playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3. I don’t know what to say, but I am ugly crying. I won’t spoil it for those who haven’t played yet, but my heart got ripped out of my chest. Writing is my only coping mechanism, so I decided to grab my laptop and write for them, for myself, and for those who played it and felt the same way as I did or didn’t.

Well, I well use this opportunity to make amends since I have abandoned writing and we will start with little cuty user, and her requests.

Characters mentioned : John Price - Johnny "Soap" MacTavish - Kyle "Gaz" Garrick - König - Simon "Ghost" Riley - Alejandro Vargas - Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra.

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I hope you liked it!

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1.

Tired and hungry were the worst combination at this moment, now that you were finally about to start writing tha damn report. Why did you have to personally write a report?

The report has to be on captain Price's desk today before noon, but as your pen meet the paper, your stomach grumbled louder than a shot gun.

Sighing you stood up, abondonning the idea of ever finishing this report in time. You can't leave your poor stomach empty for the sake of something as foolish as a report, plus you knew captain Price won't scold you much, as long as the report gets to his office before he leaves to his well deserved vacation. You can't wait to eat a fresh meal for yourself and maybe, key word: maybe, leave some for others.

Lost in thoughts you haven't even noticed that you had reach the kitchen. Now here comes the second challenge, actually cooking.

Looking at the small counter, you had one thought, what can you eat? Let's make it more understadable, what can you eat which is easy to cook and you won't have problem chewing? Reminder, you can't open your jaw more than 3 cm.

Well, that will depends, you thought as you opened the fridge to be meet with one lonely tomato, one cucumber, a piece of cheese that no one wanted to eat and nothing more.

Oh, we left to the mission before we could shop!

Groaning in disappointment, you pulled out the three of out. With the issues with your jaw, you can choose either the tomato, the cheese, the cucumber (but it has to be cut into small pieces, and that's too much work!) or you can combine them all to create a tomato-cucumber-cheese salad (You had to fill the void in your stomach somehow and tomato, cucumber or cheese alone won't do it). Unfortunately, as you were about to grabbed the tomato, you noticed two things, it was too soft, mushy, and smelly.

You grimaced, examinating the three items, and the only surviver was cucumber, with the cheese having mold all over it. So, cucumber alone it is, sighing you turned to grab a knife, to at least cut it into smaller pieces, but it seems you wasted all your luck just now.

You facepalmed at the unwashed stack of dishes. You haven't noticed them, with your back facing where they were buried in the sink. They must have been left here when Laswell called for an urgent mission, since no one uses this kitchen except the 1-4-1, you and occasionally, the Mexican boy (Alejandro) and his flowery companion (Rudy) when they visit.

Speaking of the devil, you peered over your shoulder to see the squad chatting as they strolled towards the grand table, between the door and the counter. Their shoulders weren't tensed as it was a few hours ago. They were actually making jokes minus Ghost obviously, but even he have the green aura around him.

Seeing as they were safe to approach, you coughed catching their attention immediately, but before anyone could greet you with a teasing nicknames, you pointed out at the sink.

"I cleaned, the week before, your turn," you pointed at Soap, who's shoulder sank as he teared up, but you knew it was all an act to wiggle his way out, but not this time.

Once he noticed that it wasn't working, he give in and walked towards you, picking on your cheeks before wearing the gloves. Pink gloves, that you purposely brought just to have a good laugh at Ghost, a scary man in hello kitty's gloves. It was the finiest memory you cherished among others.

"Colonel Vargas, Sergeant Major Para," you nodded at the two before greeting the others.

"I asked you too many times to just call me Alejandro, we aren't strangers after all," he grinned as you just nodded, giving up on arguming.

Taking the empty seat between Ghost and Price, you listened to their madone talks as you tried to take on the big boy, cucumber.

Why were cucumbers so big? You though dreadly as you tried to fit it in your mouth, but of course the thing was too big.

"I hate how I can't fit anything big in my mouth," you mumbled but of course, it has to be silence the moment you decided to complain.

You pushed your lips forcefully apart, just enough to not hurt yourself but enough to fit the head of the cucumber in your mouth because there is no way you were going to wait until Soap cleans the dishes, plus you had to go over them. You can trust them with your soul but never in cleaning.

Everyone snapped their head towards you, eyes widen. Their watched how your eyes narrawed as you biten small pieces of the cucumber. They all had one thought in minds, how will their cocks fit in your mouths when you can't fit a cucumber, a mini size.

Price was the first to lean back, and tried to come with a way to train your jaw. He was a patient man, he can start small, few licks here and there. You can started by fitting the head, then slowly you will be able to fit it all in, just right. He licked his lower lip just at the thought of how you, his fierce soldier, will look cute down on your knees just for him.

Gaz and Soap on the other hands had the same though, how will it fit in your mouth, but more of concerned about your safety and comfort, not like Price will force anything upon you but the old man knew better than anyone that you won't resisting once he has his hands on you. They don't mind much, even though they fantasised many time about you gagging around it as you tried to do your best to please them.

For the Mexican boys, same question, and as much they didn't want to have such lewd thoughts of someone they respected. Like the others they didn't mean it. It was out of their controle. The thought was so pleasant, that they have to see it in real life—I mean, They had to test the theory in real life, maybe you can defy your believe, they can help prove yourself wrong and that you take more than just one cock—Uhh, what they mean, darling, is that you shouldn't push yourself too much, you are a valuable memember of 1-4-1 and no one wants you hurt.

König, he was panicked in Germany, Wie werden sie meine glied nehmen können? (How will they be able to take my cock? I don't know the word for cock in germany so don't come at me, please, I just started learning the language!). When I say he was panicking, I mean sweating as he thought of all possibilities that may accure if one day, he couldn't control himself and accidently, slide it on your mouth. He was scared of breaking your poor jaw, he didn't want you to hate him, not when he loved admired you so much.

Ghost was the contrary of them all, he was annoyed, grumbling under his breath like grounded child. How dare you you? How dare not be able to take it? All along the mission, he was holding on, barely, but still holding on his hands to his side and cock in its place just to be able to get you under him once you were all back. He had planned it all. Today, after this little warm hearting meeting with everyone he will slide away and get into your office, knowing you were busy writing your report, and seduce you or whatever, just to get you on your knees, but now you had to tell him you can't take him???? Who are you to decide that?

In conclusion, everyone was in their clouds, imagining and thinking whatever they wanted to do to you while you sobbed in your corner over the still existing void in your stomach.

I am still hungry, you sighed, as you finished your cucumber.

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Can you do one with a female reader who likes to act in her free time and invites the task force 141+Alejandro +Rudy to see her play at the theater? Feel free to ignore this

This could be seen as platonic or romantic for Price.

Sorry for the late update, I just finished watching Shadow and bone and I am looking for the books, so maybe I can write for it. I don't know, do you have any suggestions?

1-4-1 had just come back from the long and tiring mission. They were glad they could take a few days off, maybe they could join you on your vacation. It had been long since you all gathered for something other than missions.

1-4-1 Walked the hall, bags under their eyes with Alejandro and Ruby by their side. It was surprising when they joined them on the way back. As they were about to enter the kitchen for a cup of tea and some for a cup of whiskey, your voice suddenly was heard a few steps away.

"GUYS!" They turned to see you walking towards them with a friendly smile. You were wearing casual clothes, a simple white sleeveless t-shirt and jeans, but god did it look good on you, especially now that your hair was down.

When did your hair grow this tall? Has it been this long since they saw you?

You hugged each one of them, "Hello love?" Soap hugged you taking in your fresh smell, you smelled like flowers, and it relaxed him. He was now safe and sound, with you in his arms. They all thought the same, they missed you so much it broke their heart to see how you changed in the time they have left.

"How are you, Captain?" Price had a special place in your heart, you loved him a little more than the others since you worked under him and know him longer than the others. Price could say the same, he practically trained and raised you. You were his favourite soldier and person.

"Alejandro! Rudy!" A smile broke into your face as you saw the two soldiers, "Oh my God! I hadn't seen you two in years!" You kissed their cheeks and as oblivious as usual, you didn't notice the red on their cheeks. "Mi amor, we missed you too!" He hugged you. "You had grown taller!" You rolled your eyes, "I was always this tall.".

Alejandro shook his head "No, you were this tall!" He grinned teasingly, as showed you how short you had been, it is true with the training you had grown taller. Before you give one of your special sarcastic remarks Rudy took you in his arms for the second time. "Even so you are still beautiful" He whispered in your ears, making you shiver.

Did this man not know the effect he has on you?

"Thank you, Rudy." You smiled and as you were about to compliment him, you were stolen by Ghost. The sudden show of affection in public did take you off guard, but you hugged him back, not thinking much of it. "How is my favourite Riper?" He asked with a deep voice, you can hear the smiled in his voice, and you almost whistled.

God, are you testing my self-control?

"I am your only Riper, Ghost." You responded smirking, "But seriously I have missed you all." You hugged him, showing all the emotions your mouth couldn't mutter. You were truly scared when they weren't back last month, not only that but the base had lost contact with them, and you haven't heard anything from them for a whole month, but now they were back, you finally realised you could have lost them forever. "No more mission without me" You announced firmly, your tone expressing how you weren't accepting no arguments.

Price nodded smiling in sympathy, as he watched your eyes water. You broke the hug and went to Gaz, " Well isn't this my favourite boy?" You kissed his cheek, hugging him. "Hey! I thought I was your favourite!" Soap commented pouting, which made you laugh and everyone joined. It was a happy moment "How are you? I hope you didn't miss me too much?" He winked, smirking.

Okay, what the hell happened in the mission?

You smiled confusedly at their sudden change of character. Ghost who would rather die than show affection outside the closed door just hugged you, Rudy, the silent boy, complimented you and Gaz just flirted with you?

"Why are you here, not that I am not happy to see you or anything, but aren't on vacation in Hawaii or something?" Soap asked, "Yes, I was going but then I changed my mind, I didn't want to travel without you. It would have been boring." That was only half the truth. You were scared, to say the least. You were terrified of what may happen in your absence, so you stayed, and the worse thing did happen. You lost contact for a month and even then, you were forbidden from going to look for them.

You smiled through the pain of the memories and asked, "So what are you guys planning to do?" You all entered the kitchen, "Sit, I will get everything ready" You softly commanded, taking your place behind the small bar. It was built for 1-4-1 to relax when they are no missions. "Well... I don't know, sleep first and then I will see" As usual Soap was the first to respond, and everyone nodded. Sleep was now their priority. You smiled when suddenly your eyes widen in realisation and you stopped your movement, "Oh, I had completely forgotten about that!"

"What is it that you have completely forgotten about?" Gaz raised an eyebrow, " As you may know, I act in my free time and at the end of this week, I am going to perform live on the stage." You smiled proudly; it was hard to pursue your hobby when you didn't have much free time. "Wait!" Alejandro stood up walking towards you, with wide eyes. "You act?" He asked holding both of your hands. " Rudy, ¿Escuchaste? Nuestro amante es una actriz." (Rudy, did you hear? Our lover is an actress.).

You just stared as Rudy smiled like a sick lover boy and a happy puppy Alejandro.

What did he say?

Well, either way, you smiled tilting your head, it was best not to comment or demand a translation because none of them will give it. "So, when this live performance will be?" Price asked, and you took back your hand from Alejandre and passed Price the ticket you have been hiding in your pocket. It was just today that you were able to print it. Price stared and all the boys stood to read it with him, the performance was two weeks from today. "Do want us to come?" Gaz asked but you can see the answer in his eyes. Soap was giving you the puppy eyes "Sure" you laughed, "you don't have to use the puppy eyes, Soap" You wrapped an arm around his neck and grinned, you really had gotten tall. "I would have invited you either way." The man lighted up like a Christmas tree.

Was he really this happy just because I invited him?

You let him go and stepped to continue preparing their teas and liquor.

(time skip)

You were behind the stage getting your make-up done. You had your clothes on and the director was behind you making sure everything worked, but you didn't pay him any attention, your mind with your phone. You had been waiting for a call from 1-4-1 and Alejandro and Rudy, but none had called. You had tried but none answered, not after you sent them the invitation in their personal emails.

Did they change their mind?

You bit your nails until one of the make-up artists stopped you. You were now stressed; you had wished they could see you. You had been training for so long even when there was no time. You spent sleepless nights, not because you wanted to be good for the public but for your friends and now with Alejandro and Rudy here you were over the moon, but now none of them was coming.

Your train of thought was cut short when the director placed a hand on your shoulder signalling to you that they were ready for you on stage. You nodded mastering the best smile you could give and without waiting time you stood up, waiting for the final signal to walk on stage. "Your micro is ready?" One of the staff asked and you nodded.

Damn it! You can't talk. The stress had finally got to you, I guess you weren't strong as you guessed you were. You sighed, taking two breaths, and the Staff nodded when the red light shone, and you were ready to be sent to stage.

Ten minutes into acting, you had relaxed, and your shoulder was down, and when your character was supposed to be annoyed, you did what any annoyed person will do and just like how you practised, you turned to the crowd avoiding looking at the other actor. Your eyes unconsciously searched for your team, and you found them they were sitting in the first row. Your eyes almost watered and you had to use all the straight you could gather to control yourself from running towards them.

Soap, as usual, was grinning from ear to ear, Price had a proud look, a proud dad look. For Ghost, well...you couldn't see his expression under that mask, but you definitely can see his eyes twinkle under the fait lights. Gaz more focused on the story and the actors but he smiled and cheered when your eyes meet. Alejandro had a serious look, but you can pick the pride dancing in his eyes. For Rudy, he smiled shyly once he saw you looking at him.

An hour passed and you finally finished. The director and your fellow actors stood on the stage bowing to the audience. You, of all people, were smiling the brighter as your locket with your team, nothing matters more than their presence and their loud cheers.

You all left to take the make and costumes off, and some of the other actors had interviews so they are staid while you sneak out before the director can ask you to do the same. You were excited that they indeed were here to stay another second behind the stage.

Once outside, you took your phone and called but before you could put your phone on your ear two strong arms hugged your waist, you almost pushed the person if you hadn't recognised his smell of cologne.

"You were amazing." Said Soap, with a smile you responded "I know". He laughed spinning you around as he praised you over and over again with sweet words and kisses all around your face as you giggled.

"Okay, I think that's enough kissing." You weren't expecting Ghost to be the one to stop Soap, seeing as the latter was practically his boyfriend, and was that jealousy in his eyes.

You shipped the two together forever, they were close to the hip, you can never see Ghost without Soap and you can never see Soap without Ghost.

You were so deep into your head that you hadn't noticed Alejandro approaching you. You didn't acknowledge his presence until his arms were secured around your neck while the other was ruffling your hair. "You did good, niñita." He smiled as you scrawled at the mess he made with your head and before you could complain Price appeared with Gaz driving the car. "Come on, we are going to celebrate." He said and you all entered the first and second car.

Let's get freaky tonight.

Team 141 seeing female reader take off her shirt to train with her friend and seeing she has scars all over her body because she was tortured (burned, knife cuts, bullet wounds, whipped, ect) and reader having a visible pack (I don't care how many packs)

And the boys feeling sympathy for her but also blushing at her body ☻️🤭

You can decline if ya want I don't mind

Should I make Konïg, Las Vargas maybe even add Graves and Valeria versions?

TF 1-4-1: Ghost, Soap, John, Gaz.

don't forget to leave request!!! please!

warning: Torture, no details given. Horny men...little innocent reader, English isn't my first language, my writing!

It was a hot day, and luckily the team didn't have any mission. So they were chilling in the training ground.

It was intimating to see a group of tall and build men sitting and staring at the horizon. Weird too, isn't it? but not when you follow the line where their eyes were so focused on.

In the distance, you stood. Back straight up, as your friends chat with each other. You, on the other hand, were standing waiting for something.

From under the shade, they could see all your expressions, or rather the lack of them. At least, they could admire the stars in your eyes, your pouting plump lips.

It wasn't strange for the TF 1-4-1 to admire you from afar. It became a habit they picked. If you give them a chance they will worship the ground you walked on, not like they aren't already.

They just don't want to hide it anymore, but for now, it will do until you notice their efforts, then maybe things will be different, it all depends on you.

"First, it will be (Y/N) against (your friend's name)" Queu to a groan and a few complaints, while you emotionlessly walked pulling off your mask, and your t-shirt. Leaving yourself bare with only a sports bra as a cover.

It caught the 1-4-1 off guard, especially Ghost, who noticed the ghost's hands, each one holding a breast.

Here comes the train of unholy thoughts.

It sends waves of arousal to warm their stomach and crawl up their spine, as they drank in your form. Each curve, each scares, every inch of you was been craved in their minds.

The men turn away shifting from one foot to another uncomfortably trying to ease the blood rushing down there if you know what I mean.

Some were rubbing their eyes and faces as if it was trying to get rid of the image of you standing there... In only a bra and military pants, but we both know that they were craving it in their mind for later. All for everyone to see, causing a fit of jealousy to bloom in their chest.

Damn you and your body. They thought. Fighting the strong urge to relieve themselves, which could be only done in the bedroom away from prying eyes.

Here comes another unholy thought.

Didn't you know the effect you had on them? Or maybe you know, either way, you really need to stop teasing, or punishment may be the only way for you to understand what you made feel.

They all groaned, for god's sake, they were grown-ass men, not some high school girls stalking their crush.

Fuck!

Why their pants are getting tight?

It was weird for you to show some skins, not like you didn't look great. You looked more than great, but after one horrifying mission, you stopped showing even your hands.

Ghost was present with you that day. He had to watch unable to do anything, as they torture you over and over again for days, and the scars on your body were proof of what you had been through. You screamed still hunting his mind, verytime he closed or opened his eyes.

He blamed himself every second of the day, because if he had listened to you and didn't leave you alone, you may have been able to fight the enemy together, and neither you nor him, would have been captured.

You ran a hand through your hair, before putting in a high ponytail. Getting in your position and the boys remarked how your eyes were closed. You didn't even open them when your friend was attacking you left and right. You avoided all attacks, without breaking a sweat. As if you sense his movement, your movements were smooth too. Much different form military training.

Price, unlike the others, was more interested in your abilities Why are you lying? he had read your files. All he could say that is he was impressed. He tried getting you on his team, unfortunately, you had taken two years off the military to heal from your last mission.

He had heard from Lasweel, that you looked like a mummy when the doctors were done. They say it was a miracle that you survived, sadly, the scars will be forever graved on your body, just the memories in your mind.

Now you were back, with a few rumours lit up like fire in the woods about you. They were all absurd of course, yet some seem to believe them, resulting in them avoiding you like the plague, but you didn't seem to mind. Actually, he had noticed how agitated you become when you share the same space as someone else.

You are always tensed and on guard, whenever someone was talking to you, the only person who you seemed to ease around was Soap, who the moment notice your packs accidentally when you were training together, was stuck like the glue to your side.

You never pushed him, you responded to every question he asked, like patient parents with their children, and somehow you were able to understand his weird choice of words, and even then you spoke few words, only listening and humming along the way.

That gave Gaz some courage, to try and talk to, and boy did he feel bad!

Gaz was one of the people who believed the absurd rumours. He found them to be real. You never tried to prove him wrong, until, he sat by your side, as you prepare something to eat.

Soap had practically dragged him, to meet his crush you. For a movie night. You didn't speak much, you just listen attentively to each word that comes out of Soap's mouth, and he could a crossed smile, even it was small each time Soap throw a joke, no matter how bad it was.

He watched you all night eyes only focusing on you. In his mind, he was watching waiting for one wrong move, while his heart was memorizing each part of, each move and the reason behind it. Maybe that's how he knew you well.

You didn't do anything that night that proves that you were the person in the rumours. You weren't arrogant, and even with the little emotion you had shown, he was able to conclude that you were a good person, just broken.

That's how you become close with Gaz, not like how you were with Soap but enough for you to salute him or pat his shoulder or head. Which always flustered him.

A few minutes into the fight with your friend and you already tackled them. You, on top of them, hand behind their back comfortable setting on their back.

They start wiggling under you, and for a moment 1-4-1 halted in their movement eyes intensely watching your breast bounce.

"Fuck" they cursed under their breath. They knew it will be better to leave, yet their body refused to obey their brain and move.

You turn to get your shirt and gear and leave when you saw 1-4-1 standing under the shade. You politely waved but none of them seems to notice you, from where you stood, you could see the tips of their ears red, some were hiding their faces between their arm supporting their weight with the metal bars in front of them.

You, being the innocent female lead, you titled your head, worried that the sun may be the cause of their redness.

You took the bottles before walking to them after it you offered them to them. They all took it gratefully before shrugging in down.

You escorted them back inside, as you watched them walking. You took notice of the awkwardness in the air, with a hint of ginger and peppermint. You knew what it was.

They were scent caused by sex pheromones, so why do they smell like that?

Oh, if only you knew!

Don't forget to leave your requests because honestly I'm starting to loose ideas and motivation to write.

Thank you.

Author note : So I had this crazy idea. What if the reader was a captain of a team and after a rough mission that required both 1-4-1 and Las Vargas you all decided to drink in the base, suddenly one of your team challenged you in a video game with a reward if you win.

Warning: mention of sex, the reader is a captain. Bunny outfit, mention of stripper. The reader hide her face under a mask. My mistake and writing. Not proofreading.

What do you think?

Part 2????

It was past midnight and your were finally able to return to the base after a long and tiring mission and no casualties, yet no one seemed to want to sleep afraid of nightmares that may come because of all the traumatic events that happened.

You all decided to drink but you didn't dare to touch the liquor afraid of all the secret you may spill so you just sir there as everyone drank there heart out.

The young ones of the teams were laughing exchanging jokes, while the older just watched and sometimes talked about whatever the conversation brought.

You on the other like just sat there when suddenly one of your male member of your team rushed to you demanding a match in video games.

"and If I win you have to wear this" he passed you a box with a bunny outfit.

"That stripper shit" One of the female members of your team remarked making the other giggle.

You weren't a strict captain, you didn't even act like a captain outside of mission. Maybe that's why you were so close with your team, that didn't mean you were nice in training.

Everyone waited as they watched you pull the dress out, and like she said it was stripper shit. The dress didn't have anything to cover your body, it was like swimsuit with bonny tail and ears but you couldn't lie it was cute, unfortunately it wouldn't feat you.

It was made for people with small breasts and yours were anything but small, yet you smirked under your mask, a mischievous idea coming to you.

"okay...but" You turn to the male team member before you continue "if I won.. you are to wear it"

You team member didn't think twice before agreeing. You felt a little bad for him..but all well he should have made research before challenging you.

Everyone in your team knew how of a sex addict you were. You could go multiple round and yet you won't feel satisfied, maybe that's why you never had a boyfriend, and it seem that he didn't know or just didn't want to believe the rumours, so a little demonstrate was needed.

"Should I leave the game choice to you?" You titled your head and he smirked. He had the audacity to smirk... don't worry soon you will wiped it out of his face.

"I will" he proudly said, puffing his chest, leaving without even a goodbye.

Didn't he really think he was a man, soon he will be screaming like Moaning Myrtle from Harry Potter. You thought.

"Okay.. Goodnight everyone" you waved at your partners before turning to your team members.

"We were going to a new mission tomorrow but since one you will too tired" You pointed at the male leaving the room "you can have a day off tomorrow" You chuckled as everyone cheered.

It wasn't weird for you to have mission after mission. You were damned good, making the teams with most mission, it was tired luckily you were all more than capable of handling it.

You followed the male to his room before going to your own. You were no way on hell fucking him in his room, besides yours had camera ready to take pictures of him wearing that bunny dress.

Back at with 1-4-1 and Las Vargas, the air was a little awkward, how can it not be when they just watched someone challenging their captain not only that but they demand for their captain to wear something like that if they won, which was straight disrespectful.

Your team on the contrary, were cheering up, happy to have one day off. They soon after three shots begun to bet.

"I bet 50, they are going to go all night" one of them bet, and some followed.

"I bet he won't be able to walk tomorrow" This earned a laugh from all of them before they whispered "poor him"

"I warned him" you right hand said, catching the attention of everyone.

"So you knew" One spoke and your right hand nodded "I asked him not to do it but he disobedience orders" Your right hand took a shot before slamming the cup on the table.

"You are jealous" One said snuggly "Of course I'm jealous, don't tell me you 'rn't... That's captain we are talking about... She's hot" everyone nodded she was indeed hot with those immense breasts, and that hot body full of scares... everyone almost moaned at the thought.

Now even the others(1-4-1 and Las Vargas) were wondering how your hand would feel like..fuck that can make anyone hard.

"She's awesome...Like have you seen her on field..How she took those guys down, like they were nothing...If she stepped on me I will thank her" He nodded to himself, he was drunk out of his mind but they say drunken words are sobber thoughts.

"Mommy" It was supposed to be a whispered under the breath than know should have heard yet they all seem to have, and everyone noticed by how their body tensed, some caught to hide their own embarrassment.

"OKAY! I think we all agreed that it's time to head to bed" everyone sigh in relief as Price spoke averting their attention from their little problem down there.

Everyone left, and once the silence dominated their space, unholy thought start to surface. Each of them imagining what could be happening between you and your male team member, some of them were jealous of him been touched by you.

That night no one slept. Not even you except your drunken team members who could handle some liquor in their system.

Incorrect quotes

Call of duty x reader.

Captain Price approaching (Y/N) cautiously, his eyes softening: I...We don't want to hurt you...

(Y/N) turning to him in rage, pointing at themselves: HURT ME!...HURT ME!

Everyone taking a step back.

(Y/N) wiping their tears: YOU WILL NEVER HURT ME AGAIN!!

The sound of multiple gun shot.

inspired from this

call of duty modern warfare 2

summary: Ghost is toxic and the only person who is affected is his partner, your sibling, so what will you do, (y/n)?

Don't read it if it will trigger you!

Warnings: Dark and toxic Ghost, gn! reader. Mention of mental abuse, toxic relationship, (y/n) is mad. Military reader. The reader had gn!sibling. Everything is pure imagination, and I never served in the military so I really don't know how it works.

I don't own Call of duty's characters or the Gif bellow!

Should I make a part 2????

Dark! Ghost x gn!reader

A few months, before the call of duty modern warfare 2 begun, which you be soon called to help in.

You were sitting waiting for your sibling, in the cafeteria of the base. Your sibling was dating none other than Ghost, Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley himself.

The man was toxic . A walking red flag, that just don't seem to get the meaning of cherishing your partner, he was worse than a yandere. You didn't blame him at first, you knew his story or half of it, you sister do to, maybe that's why she let him do whatever he wanted.

You knew he had trauma because of his heartless father and adding to the mission where he was almost brain washed, you could understand where he was comming from. The man was left with severe trauma, so you never took any of his heartless action toward you to heart, you always tried to get along with him for your sibling's sake.

Now you can't find any excuses to his actions, this man needed therapy as soon as possible.

It was pretty much over two years since the both start dating, you were jealous of you sibling for pulling the man , you a crush on, since your eyes landed on him, but after sometime you got over it. You will never choose a silly little crush over your family.

They deserve to be happy, after all the shit you two had been throught in real life.

Truth , you (your sibling and you ) weren't fictional characters, you both were suck in the game, while you were playing three years ago. You did find a way to go back later on, yet you never use it.

It was a lot to take in, been in a new world where you can die at any moment given, but with your sibling by your side it was easier and more bearable.

Going back to your sibling, you remarked a few thing after five month of them dating. The first one been , how tired they had become, mentally and physicly, always sleeping when she spend some of the weekend with you at your house. It was starting to affect her missions, her Captain who happened to be Price, was obligated to send her away few times.

You knew he remarked the changes but never adressed it, he had a soft spot for Ghost, making him turn a blind eyes at whatever this man do.

The second thing you remarked was the fact that they always put his need above their own, it was starting to get a troll on them.

Sometimes you can see them flich when he touch them, the fear in their eyes was unmistakable, you wanted to confront him but you were weak at that time, and you didn't have a position yet. You were a newbie, and the man could crash you with just his bare hand, so just like Captain Price you turn a blind eye, just this time. Which build a guilt that start eating you from the inside.

One night, as you were about to go on a mission with 141 team for the first time, you had catch Ghost criticizing them, with harsh words. You almost punshed him, but instead you recorded him, which you discovered to be a great idea in the future.

You wanted to push him away from them, and for that you will need evidence, Ghost was a respected man, but you were a powerful person now. You had the system by your side, meaning nothing could stand in your way, not even General Shepherd.

_Hey.

You turn to see your sibling, and you eyes almost popped out of your skull.

They looked too thin to be healthy, the color was drained off their face, as if a vampire just came and suck the blood out of their body. There was dark circles all around their eyes, and you could only guess that it was the result of sleep, or the lack of it in this case.

Her head was held down, an action out of their character. This wasn't you dear baby that used to held their head high no matter how hard the situation was.

They were almost unrecognizable.

What have you done? You found yourself thinking.

You could feel your blood boil, and without a second guess you took your phone called Laswell and asked for three month rest. For you and your sibling , and she given you, without asking why, but you felt as if she already knew.

Your sibling watched you with eyes widen in fear, they tried to talk to you out of it, as they start shacking like a leaf, but you had made you mind.

Caring them, bridal style, which wasn't hard, since they were as light as a feather, making you frown.

when was the last time she ate? You thought, walking to their room, that they practically shared with Ghost.

You helped them pack their clothes, actually... It was more, you throwing the clothes in the bag, as they tried to stop but the poor was too weak to even lift the cup on their own.

Throwing them over your shoulder, you took their bags and walked to the car before leaving for the next three months, and no one dared to ask, you were looking too much scary.

You knew you can't go to your old house, and it would be the first place Ghost will go chack after comming back from the mission andd fiding out you took his darling. So a hotel will be good until you find another house away from all of them. It would have enough sucurity to stop an army, and you were ready to pay the price, no matter how expensive, it would be, which wouldn't be hard, seeing as you had become rich, after your threatned the system about you telling the whole Call of duty's npc about how they were fake.

You money will never run out, as long as the system was here, you ruled the place.

Glacing at you sister in the back, you eyes soften as you saw her fast a sleep, but soon your jaw clenched, your hand gripped hard around the wheel almost breaking it, and your eyes had turn red from rage, after you remarke the purple bruises on her hand, . You almost run into a deer, as your fought your mind to not turn and hit the shit of that man.

Ghost would pay for this and you will make sure of it,you didn't care if he was a programmed npc, this was like a real world, you can called a parallel universe ,meaning everything that was happening was kind of real. So no more excuses, the man either be punished properly or died.

I strongly urge any Ghost/Soap find out there to go and read through the entirety of Simple math so far, and quite frankly all of peach’s fics because they are nothing short of art.

I’m not even exaggerating when I say these fics, particularly Simple math, have made me go through so many different emotions, and the writing is just so beautiful and carefully done that It’s truly better than an awful lot of fully published books that i’ve read as of late. Simple math has to be my favourite fanfiction out there, and quite frankly, one of the best things I have ever read, And I cannot express enough how Incredible Peach is

Peach’s writing is actually one of the main things that ever got me into Call of duty in the first place, So even if you’re not an avid fan, I would strongly recommend reading some of her work. Dead Disco is the first thing I found all the way back in April of last year, and I instantly became attached to it. I had absolutely no knowledge at all of call of duty, but about 3 sentences into her writing I just kept going, Completely hooked on the amazingness of it. I started reading more about COD soon after, and ended up playing all 3 modern warfare remakes

If it hadn’t been for peach, I would’ve never really so much as considered playing Call of duty (this is coming from someone who religiously plays the Sims 4, Minecraft, Little nightmares, Stardew valley etc…) But now I’ve somehow fallen completely in love with it, and to add onto that; completely in love with Peach’s stories.

Simple math has been my favourite right from the first chapter, but that is absolutely not to say that I’m not obsessed with all of her other pieces, because I absolutely am.

If anyone is looking for something new to read, not even specifically fanfictions, I would very very much to encourage you to check out some of Peach’s pieces because they really are so beautifully done, and they produce such real and incredible emotion.

(Besides, who wouldn’t want to read about Simon Riley and Johnny Mactavish? I mean, come on, have you seen them?)

Simple Math masterlist

COD masterlist

You had a plan, but never could have anticipated… this.

Ghost/Soap/female reader - throuple fic Please read this post

AO3 / all works are 18+

Part One You meet your new patient, and his Ghost. Part Two Deep breath. Part Three " You'll be with him?" Part Four Sanctuary. Part Five Johnny tells you a secret Part Six Simon does some digging Part Seven You get caught in a spell Part Eight The rock and the hard place Part Nine Simon and Johnny make a discovery, and a promise. Part Ten Dinner date Part Eleven Welcome home Part Twelve One step forward, two steps back. Part Thirteen Confessions Part Fourteen what's in a name? Part Fifteen Try Part Sixteen Therapy Part Seventeen A shock Part Eighteen Surprise

Timeline

Musings: Original ramble Follow up Q

Moodboard and playlist

Forever his 🩷Soap🩷

Some small tidbits of what I think Soap would do if he fell in love

John "Soap" MacTavish who smiles to himself when thinking of you. John "Soap" MacTavish who might or might not take a small bottle of your perfume/cologne to spray on his pillow at night. John "Soap" MacTavish who writes letters to his mother back home about the beauty that is in his life, who promises to bring them to meet her.

John "Soap" MacTavish who makes sure to memorizes your favorite songs so he can learn the words to sing them to you John "Soap" MacTavish who made Ghost promise that if push comes to shove on a bad mission, he will be there to look after you.

I hope you loved it, I am thinking of maybe doing some of these for a few other characters *kisses*

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [11]

pet!au | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

old memories

cw: non-con, PTSD, anxiety, slight suicidal ideation, manipulation, extremely unsafe handling of firearms

No matter how many years pass, Johnny’s still in that tunnel. 

Those damp walls follow him everywhere, and the humidity clings to his body like a second skin. Smothers every pore of his body until it’s screaming for air. Or, is that blood? The substance that trickles down the side of his face, sticky and warm? It envelops the line of his jaw like a tender lover. Like devoted fingers caressing the pain that florescences on the soft side of his skull. He needs the nails to puncture the bone. Seep into the tissue of his brain and remove the anguish that festers like a bad wound. 

A great roaring volume drowns out his senses as hands paw at his chest. He’s shaken like someone attempting to rouse their child from slumber but he doesn’t want to wake up. He needs to seep into the concrete. Liquify and soak into the cold, unforgiving ground, but he won’t. The hands dragging him by his vest refuse to allow it. He can’t die because someone wills it otherwise. Then comes the metal. Tongs and needles; scalpels that slice and tear; saws that grind marrow into dust — it hurts worse than the impact. Worse than an entry wound that bubbles and flattens into a cavern nothing can reach.

When he opens his eyes, there’s nothing but white. Walls, linen, clothes; it’s a blank canvas for him to paint on, and yet he can’t see the image. Gentle shapes and sounds, he tries to remember his cousin’s name but can’t. Wants to shape his mouth into the word but his tongue has forgotten the dance. He can’t remember the number assigned to him when he used to play keeper in football. The memory of his mother’s voice is distorted. Something is broken about his father’s face. He can hardly recall the name of the man always at his bedside. 

Ghost. Is that it? Weird bloke with the mask and dark eyes. There’s vague memories about him. Good ones. Ghost barks at the nurses and doctors who come to see him, always questioning what they’re doing. Why they’re injecting him with certain things. Johnny watches him. Thick fingers clench and relax like waves along the coastline. There is more to his name. It’s shrouded in fuzzy memories. Wading through the static, he plucks the word and lets it sit on his tongue until he’s able to get the useless muscle to move. 

“Simon?” 

Things hurt more after he says that word. That name. Calls upon the devil; sells his soul to a demon with dark eyes and lips that can’t properly curl anymore because of the scar tissue. He fights. Shreds skin with sharp teeth. Doesn’t care who the skin belongs to. Johnny’s regressed. Gone backwards in evolution. Has turned into nothing more than a bad dog locked in a cage, left alone to lick his wounds. Only the clink of his collar keeps him company. 

But the only thing that makes a dog bad isn’t because they bite or bark — it’s that they’re scared. Confused. He flails and howls lamenting cries as he tries to make sense of the collar and cage, or why his name seems to be something he can’t recapture. The only thing that’s there, repeating in his mind like a broken record, is the bullet. Gunshot ringing loud, lead ripping through his cranium; all he knows how to do is fight. Fight dirty. Fight hard. Slicing claws, bared teeth; something in him still craves blood. Still covets the taste of iron in his mouth. 

That desire is siphoned out of him. Drawn free from his body until not a single drop remains. It breaks down and decays in his body until there’s only fuzz left. A distorted reality. Things are better this way. Happier. Now, there’s nothing but that collar and cage and Simon and Simon and Simon and Simon —

“Fuckin’ hell, Soap, wake up!” 

Instead of the unforgiving metal bars of a kennel, Johnny feels a plush mattress. Sheets and blankets twist up his legs like ivy reclaiming some man made structure — something that doesn’t belong — and his limbs thrash in an attempt to free himself. He’s restrained. Thick arms wrap around his torso, pinning his appendages to his chest. Lips press against the shell of his ear as Simon grunts in frustration, attempting to hold his misbehaving dog down. 

“Easy now, easy. Down boy,” he murmurs. 

“Ah need tae go home,” Johnny rambles, hands pawing at Simon’s forearms. His chest heaves. Rib cage expanding just to crush right back into his lungs as he exhales, throat constricting like it suddenly feels the weight of the collar around it. “Need tae go home.” 

Simon shushes him. Demanding fingers grip Johnny’s forearms as he pulls him closer. He’s become a living straight jacket. Yanking back on his mutt’s leash until he calms. Until the storm passes.  

“You are home. Home with me, ‘member?” Simon attempts to coddle. The softness is foreign to his voice, but he tries anyway. “Look, even Bonnie’s here. Yeah? Your sweet bird? Look at ‘er. Look at ‘er, Johnny.” 

Confused eyes peer through the darkness until he finds you standing to the side of the bed, your back against the wall. Your parted lips look heavenly in the dull glow of the moon seeping through the windows, and he finds his heart quelling in his chest. Then he looks at your eyes. Wide as saucers. Dilated. Chest heaving. Breath escaping you. 

“Yeah, you see ‘er now. You’re home with me. Home with Bonnie. Better now?” Simon asks. 

“Ah still feel it. Digging ‘round in mah fuckin’ skull,” Johnny babbles, feet still kicking at the cloth that holds his legs hostage. His teeth grit so tightly he can hardly get the words to flow between them. 

“Need ya to relax, Johnny,” Simon huffs. Frustrated eyes glare at you, and your throat visibly bobs as he motions for you to come back to the bed. “Want Bonnie to help?”

Following Simon’s orders, you crawl onto the mattress. You shuffle along on your hands and knees, head bowed low but your eyes stay on the men in front of you like they’ll bite if you don’t. Johnny sees the trepidation that lurks in your gaze. Can nearly smell it as it collects like sweat on your skin. He doesn’t like it. That fear in your eyes. Are you scared of him? Why do you look at him like that? 

“Good girl, Bonnie,” Simon praises flatly. Without warning, his hand dives into Johnny’s boxers where he greedily palms at his cock. It’s still soft, having no chance to harden, and yet Simon is unrelenting. Johnny feels the urge to jolt, to fight back against the stimulation as he watches you sit back on your haunches, bottom lip quivering. “You want ‘er, dontcha boy? ‘Course you do. You picked ‘er out and everything. Doesn’t she make ya feel better? Feel at home?” 

There’s a dull buzz in the back of Johnny’s mind that attempts to rewire his brain. To slice away the coax seal and bare the metal cords to the damp air of his skull. To weave things until the pain stops. Until things make sense. But that buzz wanes and dies as his cock begins to harden and he becomes drunk on Simon’s words and the way he tugs at him. When he looks back at you, you are excited. Body quivering with anticipation, on your knees waiting for him like there’s nothing else in the world that can satiate your desire but him. 

“Aye. Ah do,” Johnny groans. 

Simon smirks against his ear. 

“Good boy. Go fetch.” 

Johnny eats you alive after that. Takes you while you’re face first into the mattress, cock pumping into your cunt at an abusive pace. You cry this time. You’ve been good about keeping it bottled inside, tears along with it, but seeing him screaming in his sleep has your anxiety high. Watching him thrash like that, curse, and beg. Like he had been possessed. Like he was somebody else. Fear courses through you like it’s the only component that builds the cells of your blood. Guttural sobs and wails are muffled by the way Simon shoves your face into the bedding and barks at you to quiet down. You are thankful that this time he fucks you on the bed. There’s no unforgiving wood to press into your palms or the side of your face as you grieve into the blankets. Still, it hurts all the same. Your cervix splits and bruises, walls stretched impossibly wide as he pistons into you, ripping you apart from the inside. 

He feasts on your cries. Mumbles that you sound so beautiful, moaning like that. 

All for him. 

When Johnny’s finished, he goes back to sleep. Curls around you like a devoted dog, arms lazily slung over you — nothing but dead weight. Before long, both men are snoring while you sniffle and writhe. There is no sleep to be had, not with the wounds that plague you. After so much time spent in the den of these beasts, you were hoping that your skin would become thicker. Calluses would form from use, and eventually this agony would remit. But scars can’t form if you don’t allow the wound to heal, and Simon is all too willing to tear at the scab until you’re bleeding all over again. 

He likes the taste of brine and iron. 

Morning comes and you still haven’t slept. 

It was a foolish idea to believe you could have. Laying with monstrous men and listening to the rattle of their breathing keeps you awake worse than any creature that could go bump in the night. You promise yourself you’ll sleep when they’re awake. You’ll sleep when Simon’s hands are busy working away at the garden and Johnny’s drawing sketches of your motionless body. It’s easier to rest when the sun is up. When you can open your eyes and make sense of your surroundings and not be swallowed by darkness and terror. 

Simon is the first to rise. He always is. Even the sun lags behind him in sputtering rays as he slinks out of the room. His movement is enough to rouse Johnny who finally relinquished his grasp on you in favor of turning to lay on his stomach. You breathe easier without the weight of his arm on your chest, but it does nothing to quell the ache that still burns in the pit of your stomach. That never-healing wound. That scar which will never quite mend. 

You stir when you hear the shower begin to run. Its creaky faucet strains against the old pipes, squealing as the liquid shoots through it. Lifting yourself up, you muffle your groans behind gritted teeth as you slip off the side of the bed. You’ve gotten good at being quiet. Soft as a mouse trotting through rotten walls. As silent as the flap of an owl’s wings in the dead of night. Even as you dress — fresh cloth pulling over soiled skin — there’s nothing, not even a peep, out of you. Johnny huffs, body missing your presence. You ignore him as you leave the bedroom. 

Morning birds chirp in your willow tree. You’ve decided it’s your tree. Beautiful branches, dancing leaves — Simon has Johnny, and Johnny has you, isn’t it only fair that you have something of your own? Finches chatter as they buzz from branch to branch, excited feet scurrying as they chase one another. They peck and chew at berries and nuts they’ve foraged in the bountiful forest that lay beyond the property, and you stand in front of the window for a moment watching them. 

They force an old memory to resurface. Something from when you were a child. A science class lecture that’s been buried in the grey matter of your brain for so long it had almost gotten lost. Evolutionary pressure. Finches are an example of this. Darwin’s finches, especially. They’re diverse. Changing for better survival. There are some with fat, wide beaks, others with small, dainty growths. Animals evolve fast to adapt and survive. To endure the earth and her cruel games. 

You wonder if you could test this on yourself. Stress your body to the point it has no choice but to morph into something stronger. Something better. If you climbed to the top of this house, or the ridge of those trees, and jumped, would you survive? Would your body scream and cry out for you to change and sprout wings before you hit the ground? Before you’re caught in Johnny’s maw for good? Is this just some foolish notion? Would you just shatter on the pavement below? 

Your sigh mixes with the chirping, free and sovereign. Either way, it would not be an issue for you anymore if you failed. Your wounds would never heal, but you’d be too dead to care about it. 

Simon’s shower turns off with a squeak and the sound snaps you back to reality. This is all a facade. You are not a bird, you are not a woman, you are a pet — nothing more. 

Knowing breakfast is soon to follow, you preemptively wander toward the dining room. If there is one thing to be grateful for in this meticulously crafted hell of yours, it is that you are well fed. There is no such thing as going hungry under Simon’s careful watch. He is not a good man — a good person — but he at least knows how to take care of his pets. You turn into the room —

— there is a gun on the table. 

Solvent hangs faintly in the air next to bottles of cleaners and old toothbrushes that dot the tabletop. It’s the same set up you recall seeing a few weeks back when Simon cleaned his rifle — when he reminded you that hunting season is fast approaching — but there is no rifle on the table. A hand gun sits in its place, resting on its side, aimed toward the wall. It’s not gutted. Each spring and screw lies perfectly in place. Primed. Ready to kill. 

It’s a proper handgun. At least, you think it is. Not one of the six shooters you always see portrayed in old American Western films. It’s deadly. Something officers or Army men would use. Your stomach sinks as you approach it, like it’ll decide to discharge from a mere glance alone. Sleek black metal covers the frame and grip, making it all look uniform, save for some wear and tear scratches. Some of the scratches look deep — long and gnarly gashes like the item itself had been through hell and back. You reach a hand out, floating and careful; your fingertips brush against the grip; wary, like it’ll bite.

“Shouldn’t be touchin’ that.” 

Retracting your hand, you jump as Simon’s voice cuts through the air with as much venom as a viper. You step back as your eyes jump to look at him. Shirtless, skin still freshly wet, he stands like a drowned barbarian as he stares at you. An apology bubbles up in your throat, but you won’t let it escape. You keep it trapped in your larynx as he slowly approaches with feet more quiet than you could ever wish to be. 

“Ever seen one before?” he asks. He crowds you, forces you back another step as he reaches for the pistol. Large hands dwarf the metal frame as he turns it over in his palm, showing it off. “A gun like this?” 

You shake your head. Knives are plenty common in England, but handguns? Something other than a hunting rifle? You thought handguns were banned. Though, Simon’s never been one to shy away from illegal acts. 

“Yeah. Didn’t think so. Fittin’ for a civilian,” he chuckles with crass humor. 

Simon does something unthinkable — he hands you the gun. 

There’s nothing but care as he holds it out, grip faced toward you, muzzle off to the side pointing at neither of you. Your heart leaps into your throat, swells in your esophagus, and then throbs. All you can do is stare. It stares back. Screams at you. You’re all too aware that this item acts not only as your executioner, but as your ticket out of this place. 

“Take it,” he urges. 

Like always, you obey. It feels too thick in your palm, and when he lets go, it’s heavy, much more than you could have anticipated it to be. Everyone in the movies always wields them so flippantly — as if they’re light as air — but the weight it holds screams its deadly intent. Simon’s fingers brush against you, adjusting your grip, and you try not to grimace at the feeling of his skin and tainted metal against your hand. 

“Is it loaded?” you question. You don’t know why you ask it. Maybe you want to know so you can be wary. To not hurt yourself. Or maybe you want to know so you can see if the risk raging in the back of your mind is worth taking. 

“Dunno,” Simon shrugs. Once more, he repositions you. Gently prods your hand higher and higher, elbow bent, muzzle resting against your temple. Maneuvers your pointer finger until it’s hooked around the trigger. A dead woman walking, he forces you to stand there with the gun to your head. “Wanna find out?” 

What a cruel world this is. The earth with her singing birds and sprouting flowers and bright blue skies, and you’ve hardly been able to enjoy any of it. All it has been is pain, and here you are wondering if you’ll ever get the chance to heal from it. Your heart thumps like an amateur drummer; without sense and rhythm. It demands to be heard. Forces you to listen to his cacophonous melody as it drowns the rush of blood in your ears. Your finger twitches, and the trigger gives way, but not enough for anything to happen. 

“C’mon. We’ll get you matchin’ with Johnny, huh? Ugly fuckin’ scar on the side of your head.” As he says it, he eyes the spot where the mouth of the gun meets your trembling flesh. He says it like he’s already imagining the gaping hole. “Pull the trigger, Bonnie.” 

It can’t be loaded. You’re certain of it. There’s no way he would leave something that dangerous around within reach. But it’s so heavy. As if it’s crammed to the brim with bullets ready to riddle your body full of holes. Your breathing stutters. Seizes the muscles of your chest and forces them to jitter. You stare at Simon’s chest. Nothing but pale, thick skin stares back at you. If you pull the trigger, you might paint him red. Red and pink and yellow. You wonder if that’s what he wants. If the feeling of water never feels as warm or embracing to him as fresh blood does. 

“I told you to pull the fuckin’ trigger.” 

Panic writhes in your stomach — you don’t want to die yet. 

Click!

The hammer strikes against nothing and dry fires. It rings louder than the terror in your mind and the vibrations that rattle your trembling body as your arm gives out, gun lowering away from your head. Of course it’s empty. How stupid of you to think of anything different. Simon would never allow you to leave before he’s ready to let go. 

When Simon laughs, your stomach lurches so fiercely you nearly vomit. Once you’re able to force yourself to face him, you’re met with the largest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. Crooked teeth sit between scarred lips as he swipes the gun out of your limp fingers. Taking a step back, he nods; utterly amused. It isn’t long before that sneer wipes off of his face and he’s back to wearing that biting, stoic expression he always does. 

“Atta girl,” he huffs. 

Sliding the gun into the waistband of his sweatpants, Simon saunters past you into the kitchen, leaving you to stand alone next to the table. Unstable knees nearly give out as your palms slap against the top, slowly dragging your body into a rickety chair. It hurts to sit, soreness jolting through your core with unforgiving electricity, but you refuse to make a sound. You sit there with tears welling in your eyes as you try to forget the way deadly metal feels in your hand. 

This is Simon’s greatest round of torture yet. He’s given you the keys meant to aid in your escape, but he’s changed all the locks. You bite into your bottom lip to get it to stop quivering. After living here, you’ve learned pain is the best enforcer. Only, it doesn’t quite work as well when it’s self-inflicted. 

Another click sounds, and you wince at it. Holding your breath, you wait for something else to follow — a sonic boom, a scream, a death rattle — but the only thing you hear is the sizzling of bacon on a hot pan as Simon prepares breakfast.

"Just, please... please. I'll beg."

Poly_TF_141 x sex-demon_reader Prt:2

Read part 1 here 》 ....

A_N:... Continuation of the previous! This is part two, and to do with Werewolf Soap going into 'heat' but not the abo kinda heat. Soo, expect more wolf like behavior, and again, the same warnings apply.

CW.|.TW:... Sexual content. Intended male reader. Bottom but Dom reader. Polly-cule TF 141. Religious depictions of demons. Allusion to Reader having an Eating Disorder and the recovery there of. Ghost x Soap x Reader

It had taken some time and effort, but finally, finally, you were OK with the casual emotion that the team shared with one another.

Being a permanent member of the team seemed to help. You even put on weight in the recent months that you've actually fed semi regularly, although it wasn't anywhere near what you should be getting but it was miles better then the months you used to starve through.

Price made sure that any time between missions, there was some form of sexual intention in his team.

Not the hardest thing when all of them have been intemit with each other for years before you joined in with the physical side of things. And Price let you have your fill of him whenever he saw that drop in you again.

But someone else came knocking that night.

A blushing Soap who was leaning heavily on your door frame, looking almost shy for his bulkier body. He hardly says anything as you beckon him in. Eyes still down cast even as he leaves the door ajar and is sitting all but an inch away from you.

"I wan'ed te ask ya if yeh would..." he starts, blush spreading down his neck. "Can ye. I just wanted.."

That's when you felt a pulse of a sweeter emotion, a spiking arousal that was tainted with a primal urge. This absolute need for something so deeply sexual it was practically making your mouth water.

"Your lycanthopic urge?" You question,

"Aye, my heat kinda snuck up on me." He answers with a curt nod. Still not looking at you.

Your fingers find his chin, easily lifting his stubble edged jaw, so he was nose to nose with you.

Soap had dilated pupils, only elipsed by this thin sliver of his irus. Those needs already making his mind want to lean in and chase those lips of yours. Instead, he flicks his eyes back up, that emotion growing thicker, sweeter, with the movement.

"Just please..." he half begs, already so desperate. "Please. I'll beg. I'll go away if ye don't wanna, but I just.."

"Ok, I will lend you help."

You've hardly gotten the sentence out before Soap jumps you. Stealing breathless kiss after breathless kiss.

Guiding your hands to his skin, slipping them under his clothes, and soaking in the warmth with your skin on his. He gets so touch starved, so sensitive to it, when he's like this.

You near fucking his throat with a long split toungue isn't helping him think any more coherently. He tried to ignore the gentle tangle of your hands as you started getting him undressed. Body more demonic with the crackling desires streaming from Johnny's need for intimacy.

"You still got your mind in one peace there lad?"

A deep rumble follows from the door, Ghost standing there with his head tilted. Commenting, "Dumb Mutt just got one thing on his mind."

"You came to watch or pass along something or another."

"Oh, I wanna watch."

Simon crosses the distance from the door to your bed in two quick strides, fingers gliding in the panting Soap's hair. Pulling him back by the grip he has on the werewolf's Mohawk.

"Mainly to see this one don't hurt ya, hun. But to see if yah would need help."

Johnny rolls his hips against your thigh, toungue lulling out past his fangs and bruised lips. Eyes unfocused as he tries to keep his body still while miserably failing.

"Can get a bit one tracked and forget who's helpen 'em. And Price warned me yah got a habit of ignoring yourself."

"Acceptable. Just help me strip him before he cums in his pants."

"Alright hun."

You end up kneeling with Soap, hopelessly humping against your thighs with you stretching out your back so you can reach for Ghost as he leans back. Your hands trace over the fat of his thighs before using your tail to wrap around Johnny's waist, keeping a firm grip to help him actually get what he wants.

His cock already painfully hard, pulsing with each beat his heart had. He was happy to be pulled to where you wanted him, all but panting into your nape as he ruts up against you.

It's always that first breach that knocks the breath from you, but Soap sits still after he's fully sheathed. Just trying to feel as much as he can with skin against skin as that lusty haze fills his mind.

When he does start moving, it's at a brutal pace. Hardly pulling out before shoving back in all the way. Jolting your whole body.

That thickly suffocating emotion had your throat vibrating in the closest thing your kin could produce to a purr. Easily keeping him steady and against you with your tail. You could feel his back tense and ripple with each roll of his hips, with your tail snugly against his waist as he licks along any skin he can.

You heal too fast for him to see the hackies he's working along your shoulders, but the darker marks of his teeth do stick just a bit longer.

It's Simon who traces the rivets of your ram like horns, eyes watching the hitch in your breath. Fingers ever so gentle as he traces all the dents and scrapes along them; careful to rub his palms down the curve against your skull. And you can taste the lust that's just as strong from him.

When Soap had cum with a snarl, as he bared his teeth against your spine, you could feel how the tired feeling was pulsing along the need to keep going. He was hard and needy as he couldn't set a rhythm with the fatigue settling along.

He must have tried to get off before getting the courage to ask for your help.

Feeling a bit sorry for the werewolf, you roll him over; turning to face Simon as you hover over Johnny's body. Watching as Soap mouths over Simon's dick through his boxers, those sex blown eyes watching him.

When you started the roll off your hips, against the shivering Soap who moans egging you on; you saw Ghost lift his gaze. Watching you ride the other with ease.

"Shit." Ghost comments,

He hefts himself up to his knees, nearly covering Johnny's face with his crotch. The wolf didn't seem to mind. Just mouthing and licking at all he could reach. Soaking more of the fabric with his spit.

"Price gave this view no justice when he told me 'bout it."

Redoubled your efforts as more warmth flooded you, but Soap didn't soften. He only meets every roll down with a thrust up.

"Don't know why any of you enjoy it, and not the action."

Johnny is whimpering under Ghost, body trembling in over stimulation. Mind lost in the throws of the absolute pleasure you're helping pump through his very soul.

"More ta do with ya looking like yah enjoying yaself then the act alone."

"You have to be none-"

Those fingers dance over your horns, finally pulling a quiet noise from you. He leaned into you, sharing the quick hiffs of air you're both taking.

"That," Ghost repeats the action. You don't moan this time, but the effect is still evident. "Is what we enjoy of this."

"Prove it."

"Gladly hun." Before his eyes roll back into his skull, "Fuck... watch the teeth soldier."

Soap had pulled his boxers off with just his teeth, getting to his dick. At the comment, Johnny bared his teeth against the intimate skin of Simon's inner thigh. So close to him that the danger runs his blood just that bit hotter.

And for all that Ghost likes the danger, that bit of pain, he doesn't actually want to bite him. And not nearly as hard as he bites at you.

"He will tire out soon, just a warning."

Simon clasps at your horns, pulling you closer by them.

"Not for long hun, he'll be up and wanting more in no time." He presses his lips against yours, mumbling with a smirk, "and I wanna tag team him when he does."

COD men x K-9 Unit male reader

Part 1 | Part 2》》

A/n: I can speak three languages, only one of which borrow German words, so forgive me for shitty translations. I'm from the RSA, so you know. Not any of the boys hometown.

Reader works with a K-9 unit and his partner is called Mutt who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.

After the mission back at base, the reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with him.

Reader is referred to as you or Riot.

Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.

Left: American Akita and Right: Long-haired Doberman

John Price: (740 words)

-He met you first, saw you first. Hell, he verified your file so he knew of your old teammates that turned because of the torture, and he knew of the many years you spent MIA. He also knows what you did to get out. So he keeps you close and keeps an eye on you. He's the one who needs to clear you for this recon mission. It will be his fault if another team mate goes rogue. -It only take him a few minutes to see how much you actually relay on Mutt, it takes him days to see its not reliance, no the two of you act in a cemented trust between you two. From the interactions at home base to the way you both move like a well oiled machine on the field, it doesn't take a genius to see that Mutt is a deadly force with training that makes the hound that much more dangerous. Price comes face to face with that realization when he sees just how far Mutt can throw a soldier four times their size. And Mutt came up to his thighs, mind you. -Time and space are all Price really needed to trust you completely. He knew how you acted with Mutt, and therefore, he knew how you would act around a team you trust. It doesn't take him long to see its not only Mutt who reacts to you. You react just as much based on your K-9. Price nearly shoots you when you call out to Mutt because you didn't whistle for the hound. You howled, and he could hardly tell it apart from the wild dogs he's heard out in the desert. He didn't even understand what the fuck you where doing until he heard something answer you, in the same rumbling call. It took a lot more time to get used to those kinds of noises from you. He could expect them from Mutt but not when it's you who makes them -Both of you were exhausted, been about three long days on your feet with little sleep, that's when he asks you how you make the sounds Mutt does. Hell he even starts trying to learn them just to know how you and you K-9 partner work better. "So I just cup my hands and what now Riot? I Grunt?" "No," you laugh at him, he doesn't feel patronized by it, "you hold your hands around your mouth and just bark, makes it echo like a dog." He sounded more like a mountain lion then canine when he actually gave it a try. You teach him how to pitch it up a bit, and how to drag the call out properly. "And you don't use your hand because?" "Because I'm used to it, and can make the 'echo' without my hands. I still do when I howl. Look." A few nights pass before he uses it to scare a tango shitless out side of the enemy base. He doesn't admit it but he likes 'talking' to the local wild dogs with you. He even enjoys hearing you and Mutt go off at each other because it means your both alive and still here. -Out side of the field and when you two go out to roam the town at the dead of night, he comes to see that the canine noises you and Mutt share gives you peace. The kind he used to find in cigars and smoke. He gets it, he knows that some people just have a vice. When you find him smoking alone behind his own home, he shrugs it off and blames it on the smoke detectors. He doesn't say that he stops to make your K-9 more comfortable in his home. He doesn't stop smoking but he tries to avoid it for your sake. You only corner him around a day or so to thank him. He won't admit to the red flaring up on his ears, but he tells you to drop it. -If he's ever the one who finds you when your having an attack, he will guard you. Get you safe and comfortable then he will become a gruff mother bear and be completely over protective of you. He only calms down when he sees that Mutt already does that, and he learns what can help you, what to look out for. He won't admit it though.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: (734 words)

-Ghost didn't like you at first. or well he doesn't like anyone actually but he didn't like you. -You had a dog breed that was originally made for bear bating and he hated that he knew that. Even if you didn't get the hound because of that. Well, that and Mutt is constantly muzzled. It took you explaining it was required by law for him to try and ignore it. -But when he watches how fluidly you and Mutt work together, even seeing the raw fucking power that dog has when Mutt tackled an enemy to the ground, he starts to understand why you have to keep Mutt muzzled. Even if he didn't like it. -Simon has an ex-military dog at home so he knows how to act around an active working dog. He's the best to be around if you don't want people petting or trying to do anything really with your K-9 partner. -when at the base afterwards he sees that the dog isn't just a working dog but acts like you service dog. Everything from crowd control to doing small tasks for you on the daily. To siting between your legs when you have your back to anyone when doing a task to protect you. Mutt will even start doing this quiet sort of 'rueff' sound that will make you get out of where ever you are without any fanfare, you will just disappear. -He only finds out why a lot later. He feel kind of stupid for missing it after the fact. -Its the scars that cross your back and over your shoulders, the hitches of thick skin around your jaw. You are a torture survivor. So suddenly he gets it. Mutt is your safety, the dog wears a muzzle because your K-9 partner is also a person protection dog. -After he realized the why you stick to your partner so closely, he would begin to help Mutt protect you. He would stand ahead of you when Mutt would lay down to create space (crowd control). Ghost would watch your back and react with your partner to help you. -He takes his mask off when you two are either alone or when your are forced to show your scares he shows some of his to help you feel more comfortable. -you start to notice it, and at first you would try to stop him but eventually you just start protecting him back. You become more comfortable around him. Simon notices it to. -One day after a few days straight of being on your feet, both you and Simon end up passed out in his private quarters. Ghost wakes first to see Mutt cuddle against you and draped across him, when ever he tried to move the dog, they would just growl and to his utter amusement you growled back. -After that he gets you to 'talk' to Mutt any time he can, even on missions. - Ghost was the one who told you and Mutt to bark at each other to distract the enemy when on a recon mission. "Copy Riot, we need an in" "Need an in, copy. Any ideas for that L.t?" "Yeah, Riot go off and make some noise with Mutt" "Seriously?" "Yip, get going we need that data" You two got in, and yes you did start howling back and forth with Mutt in the echo trick wolves use. The enemy thought they were surrounded by cayotes. -When you eventually cuddle up with Ghost again, and Mutt yips or growls at you and you make the noise back, Simon will growl at you. It becomes a games between you to, even doing it as call outs outside of coms. Soap complains about wild dogs once and now Simon will get Mutt vocal just to fuck with Soap. -he starts calling you dog related nicknames, your name doesn't exist anymore. Call sign? only when necessary. You are now called with doggie names. He'll call out a, "Heh, Good boy" "Come on puppy you can speak" when you go dark on coms, or just when you don't answer him. Yes he will also say things like, "What ever you say Fido" -He makes you swear to never tell a soul that he also barks back at Mutt when you two are off duty. You caught him coping a growl when playing with Mutt once. -He gets Mutt and his las to meet. Now he also makes dog sounds with you on his down time, even without you much to his old girls delight.

John “Soap” Mactavish: (616 words)

-He loves your K-9 partner from the first time Price introduces you to the team, sure he tries to be professional but the second you let Mutt go off to play out of gear he just wants to give the hound so many pets. They are just so big and have that cute angry tilt to their face! Can you blame him. -when out on the field, he loves running with two of you on missions. The adrenaline and rush and just how much faster you two are than him. He loves it. -You end up doing it with him outside of missions after a while. Hiking out in mountains and secluded valleys, it's the first time he hears you howl with Mutt. The coyotes had started, yipping over whatever they killed lower down the ridge. Mutt, who was a few paces head, had paused to howl, without thinking you howl with them. Scares Soap but he just finds it fun. -Soap being so in love with Mutt leads to just being around you a lot. He starts learning what certain movements mean to you and your dog, how a sharp left with your hand was a call to draw back or how the shift of your stance meant to take the lead. It amazed him how well you read each other. -Then he sees how you act outside of the field, how Mutt still acted like a protector, and you kept mimicking the sounds Mutt made. Especially when you were more tired. He found it cute. Hell, he loved playing with Mutt, so when you made the hound more excited, he also got just as if not more excited. -Soap loves head scratches you find out when you two are off duty and hanging out. He's on the floor with Mutt and the hound he's cuddling wines before you reach down to comfort the dog with head scritches. You miss and pet Soap instead, beside being completely flustered, he asked you to do it again.  He just starts asking you to do it more and more before you start petting him the same way you pet over your hound. -Now you start with the dog related nicknames, even over coms. Much to Soaps embarrassment and the teams delight. He nearly buckles the first time you call him a good boy, and he does when you call him a good dog. Blames it on a miss step. -He loves, loves, loves listening to you, and Mutt yap back and forth, loves even more when you go to rough houses with growls and even try pining you down one. He fails, but he doesn't care. -Soap only catches one of your attacks when it's about sun down. You're both at his place standing in the kitchen when your shoulders suddenly hitch, but you continued on as normal. Until Mutt wandered over to you, they stopped dead before making a gruff noise and jumping up onto you. Instead of getting you secluded because, of course, the hound sees Soaps house as a safe space. And Mutt will get you down, force you to sit and lower your head. "Woh, n'er knew em ta jump? Wait shit. ROIT!" He'll be right there next to you, knows what to do because of Ghosts episodes on recons. "What's it, lad? What can I do ta help 'im?" -You don't really talk about it. Sure, you explain what it was and why Mutt did that, but not the why it happened. It takes a while to admit that the scares you hide are the reason for that attack. He gets it he does, and now? Mother fucker will do dumb shit to distract you, or just talk and talk and talk. It helps, he knows it helps.

König: (764 words)

-Being a sniper, he likes the added security, the extra eyes to help watch his back. Sure, he doesn't trust you per say but he tries to be friendly none the less. -He had no idea what Mutt was trained for until he saw the both of you take down someone who made it to his vantage point. He saw how you moved like Mutt was an extension of yourself, that's how you earn his respect. -König didn't know why you had so many commands for Mutt, but most of them were cues or just situational. Most of all, the verbal commands you use are in Russian and Dutch so he can understand some of the tasks you ask Mutt to do . It kind of scares him that Mutt would know which trail was a friend and which person wasn't. He stands by that fear when he watches you set them off on a run away target. -He will only admit to himself that both you and Mutt look way to good covered in the gore from that attack. -You had to explain that that kind of training meant your partner had to be muzzled. You both get to talking that night, swapping stories of close calls, and König shyly showed you the star splattered scar on his jaw. Lifting his hood up just enough to see it before hurriedly drooping it back down. You share a few of the worse days you had as a call in search and riot guard and snippets of the scars covering your throat. -Habits begin forming. König will be a silent wall between you and crowds while Mutt would start alerting to his anxiety attacks as well. You made a joke about borrowing Mutt to him on the days off. He didn't understand the first time Mutt barked at him in a weird gruff tone before jumping up and doing it again. It's when you get him secluded and safe that you explain it to him. "Its called signaling. They can tell you when these things are going to happen or are actively happening. " "So it's to let me know?" "Yeah, for me, it's when I'm going to either for a flash back or when my paranoia forces me into a panic attack." "Flash back?" "Yes, remember that sister I told you about." -It took days for you to actually relay that story to him. How your team abandoned you, how the enemy held your sisters head above your bloody form. You explained how that caused phantom pains or flashbacks and how crippling that can be some days. -He becomes your solace after that. He would be there when you needed it. Keep people away when you couldn't look at anyone. He even began listening to Mutts alerts. He even lets you help him through the easier ones. -König called you one night when you both were off for the next few days. You could tell by the shake on his breath what was happening before he could tell you. That was when you showed him how Mutt does decompression therapy, the hound big enough to help ground him. You stayed that night, even teaching König some of the commands you use to tell Mutt how to help you. He's quick to learn them as some phrases are Dutch that you use so he can catch the meaning of some commands. -You don't call him until a long while later. It's on a mission while you two are hunkered down after a botched extraction. Or well, Mutt calls him. "Riot? Are you, Oh Scheiße! 「Shit」" "wat 「what」, ag. What can I do? Dir helfen 「Help you」, how can I help. Please let me help you. " -He ended up holding how so you couldn't hurt yourself in these attacks. It didn't feel as entrapped as you thought it would. König is so much bigger than you, but it's like he makes a physical barrier between you and the world. He helps your partner make you feel safe. It's hard to explain to anyone why your panic attacks act like that, why your mind needs pain to calm from feeling like you're dying. König will explain how his attacks can feel suffocating, and that's why his jaw and throat are so bruised most days. -Between one mission and the next, you start showing off things you and Mutt can do to him, like Mutt retrieving throne knives or how the hound can trace any sent it knows for miles. -You only bark back at Mutt one night when trapped in a safe house. Neither of you could find each other, and mutt had run off

Alejandro Vargas: (720 words)

-Learning of the terrorist stationed so close to los vaqueros' home base, Alejandro was quick to reach out. The 141 had helped him before, so he was surprised to learn of the newer recruit they called in to help them. Alejandro told Price to just bring you along. They needed the extra help honestly, as much as he refused to trust any of 141 purely on principle. They needed the help. -He met you with Ruddy on the roof of the office building, and he asked the polit to land on. When you dropped from the helicopter with the others. Mutt held to your chest before being deposited on the ground. He's seen how some of the other search and rescue units who have K-9's, but he's never seen anyone who works with their hound like you do. Alejandro is both grateful and terrified to have you fighting with him.  -Seeing you and Mutt outside the field was even more intriguing. How the two of you reacted perfectly to each other, he saw a bit of himself and Rudy in the way you two work like a well-oiled machine. He tried to play nice, be kind and calm, but when shit hit the fan? He drops it. Its only been a week before you use the recall command on Mutt to level the man they needed to interrogate. Both of you were forced to hunker down in a safe house, Alejandro making the bound man walk with little success. He asked for your help not long after the son had dipped down.  "Think he will talk?" "Not willingly if that file you circulated was true." "Any ideas?" "You aren't scared of loud noises, are you?" "Not really, why?" -When you said you could help, this isn't what he was expecting, but it was working. You had taken to standing behind the tied down guy, and whenever Alejandro could sound even remotely frustrated,  you would call out to Mutt before the dog would lunge with a snarl or harsh bark. Scared the man shitless, and he would mumble about 'de-ablo' or 'deamons' on and off. When things got too harsh, or either of you were cornered, he watched in equal parts horror and delight as you let Mutt cull those surrounding you all. Watch as you both kill together just as well as you work together. -It eventually became a joke, the whole you being a dog or sounding like one. Even when the two of you left the safe house. Hell, he started talking to you like he would your dog. Started to tease you with the same command you used on your hound. "Come on, Roit, I know you can beg better than that." "Here, cachorro cachorro cachorro [puppy puppy puppy]!" "Such a good boy, you want a treat?" "There we go, Good perro. Now sit for me." Even saying he kept treats for when you were especially well behaved. If you didn't also start laughing along he wouldn't have kept doing it and actually started keeping 'treats' on hand for you on the late nights you two would just talk on and on about nothing and everything. -Being back at the base and left to your devices, he started asking about everything Mutt could do. He would ask if you could also do the tricks and inquire about the ones you could. "Wait cariño, you can howl?" "Yeah. Wanna hear me?" "Oh more than anything." "hhhm, maybe I'll do it later." "I'm happy to beg you, but I think you would sound better begging me, cariño." "I don't beg Alejandro." "You will. And you'll sound so good doing it." "Try me," -He loved hearing you talk to Mutt. Just waiting up at night to listen to the back and forth of barking and yips that echo across the open land. Whether from far away or not, he loved it. -Alejandro is the worst when either of you get hurt. He is the worst flirt, and he lays the dog related teasing on twice as thick. Not only is Rudy swearing him out in broken Spanish, but you don't help either. Doing anything to help him stay conscious or playing along to distract yourself from the pain. Even Mutt begins to see him as safe.

More COD Boys x K-9 unit reader 》》》》

Burglar in the house

Summary: The boys were trying to surprise you by coming home early from a deployment. They end up being surprised themself.

Authors note; I'm really rusty, if anyone can give me tips I'd appreciate it! (Shut the comment section if you have nothing usefull to say though <3)

Soap

-gets so offended

-secretly impressed

-milks it for attention

Soap nearly trips over the coffee table in his attempt to navigate the dark living room. He's trying to be quiet, trying not to wake you. The plan was to slip into bed without you noticing so he could be the first thing you see when you woke up early in the morning. Two days ago you had whined to him on the phone how you had to wake up at the crack of dawn to come pick him up from base. Lucky for you, the mission had ended just a bit early, giving him the opportunity to take a cab and surprise you.

His hand wraps around the handle of the bedroom door, blood pumping like he's on a mission. It's thanks to that adrenaline that he can avoid the gass bottle you swing at him as soon as the door is open. He can't react fast enough to keep from loosing his balance when you barrel into him, the momentum of your attack causing you to slip.

The air is knocked out of him first by the impact with the floor and then by you landing on his chest. He hits his elbow and curses when the funny bone in it starts singing.

"What the hell. Bonnie?" his eyes squint in the dark, hands warm against your waist.

"Johnny? What are you- I thought you were a burglar! What are you doing here?" you try to scramble off of him, conscious of your full weight on him. His grip tightens and you give up all too easily. Your hands tremble from the fright he'd given you.

"So you try to kill me? And I thought I meant something to you..."

"I wasn't trying to kill you, I thought-" you ramble on until you catch the way his lips quirk up with supressed laughter. His eyes glint with humor even in the little light coming in through the window. Slapping at his chest, you finally pull away and reach to switch on the light. And there he was, the man you missed for almost five weeks now, pinned under you and looking all smug after giving you the scare of your life. "It's the middle of the night, what are you doing sneaking around the house you idiot?"

Still straddeling your boyfriend on the ground, you try to stand, planning to return to your warm bed but he pulls you back down to him.

"You wouldn't leave me all alone on the floor now, would you bonnie?" he's giving you wounded eyes, lips pouty and unbelievably kissable. "See, I hit my elbow!" he lifts it next to his face. You squint at it, leaning close to assess the damage. Only he surges forward and steals a kiss from you, eyes twickeling in delight as you glare at him. In the end you can't stay mad at him when he looks at you like that, but you do insist on taking the smooching to bed.

Ghost

-so proud

-loves that you'd be able to defend yourself in case of an actual break-in

-thinks it's really hot

The house is too quiet when he kicks his boots off, low lights on, meaning you were still awake. You always had some kind of background noise running, silence setting you on edge like it did him. He had planned on surprising you by coming home for your two year anniversary. The mission had run a bit dry with the leads going nowhere and he had convinced Price to give him two days off to spend with you. The flowers he had bought for you now lay forgotten on the bench in the entryway, freeing his hands for a knife.

He's creeping through the house trying to find you when you dart out of the kitchen, roaring a battle cry, slashing at him. He sidesteps you, narrowly avoiding the second attack and disarming you on the third. Your bread knife and his combat knife clutter to the floor as he presses your back to his chest, arms caging you in. You struggle against him, spitting curses at what you think is an intruder. His blood is roaring with adrenaline and the relief of having you safe in his arms

"Bloody hell love, it's just me." he grunts in your ear as you kick at him, arms pinned to your side. You still in his grasp, vibrating with energy.

"Simon? But you aren't supposed to come back until-"

"Couldn't let you spend our aniversary alone. Didn't expect this greetig though." if you didn't know him as well as you did, you might take the rasp in his voice as annoyance. Luckily, you recognize it from many times spent entangled with each other. That and you can feel him poke your ass.

Gaz

-s h o c k e d

-thinks it's the funniest thing in the world

-will not let it go, teases you forever (lovingly)

The music is blasting when he comes home. He kind of expected you to come running, excited to see him after two month of absence. Then again he supposes you didn't hear the door fall shut over your own singing. He follows the sound to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe to watch you sing and dance to your favourite music. You are busy whisking batter in a bowl, hips swaying. When he can finally tear his eyes from your ass, he sees your cookbook, the recipe for his favourite cake open.

The soft smile on his lips quickly fades when you decide to twirl with the bowl in your arms, loud singing turning into a startled screech as you spot the man in your kitchen. You hurl the whisk at him quicker than you can recognize him and it plaps harmlessly against his chest. You both stare at each other, deers caught in a headlight, music still blasting. Slowly, he looks down at the stain on his tshirt, meets your eyes again and you both just double over in laughter.

"So I make it the whole deployment without getting hit only to be attacked by my partner..!" Gaz is wheezing with laughter, pulling you into him. You jokingly hit his chest, shaking with your own amusement.

"Stop, you're getting it all over me!" you grin up at him, loosing yourself in the molten brown eyes you know so well.

"Only fair my little assassin." he plants kisses all over your face and you wrap your arms around his neck.

He will tell this story to the team and all of his friends and your friends. He'll bring it up at every family get together too, just to see you blush and squirm.

Price

-sort of reassured that you can defend yourself

-has to comfort you, you feel so guilty

-trains you in self-defense

When Price opens the door to the bedroom, he has no chance to duck away from the book that comes flying at his face. You have the bedside lamp raised over your head, ready to strike the intruder but recognize him in time. The hardcover book you had thrown at him as a distraction had hit his face, a corner digging into his cheek. He's still not quite sure of what happened when you let the lamp fall to the floor and rush at him.

"John! I'm sorry, I thought you were trying to rob me- You're bleeding, I'm so sorry, let's get you fixed-"

You're shaking as you turn his head this and that way, hands gentle against his cheeks. Tears are gathering in your eyes, guilt swallowing you whole. You're trying to drag him to the bathroom where the first aid kit is when he gently cups your face.

"I'm fine love, look at me." all you can see is the drop of blood from the wound you caused. You watch as it seeps into his beard.

"I didn't mean to hit you, but there's been so many break-ins recently and I heard someone creeping through the house and you aren't supposed to be home until-" he cuts you off with a gentle kiss, slightly chapped lips moving against you until you have to part for air. Foreheads pressed together, you marvel at each other.

"You're good. I'm good. Your book might have a few dog ears though." his eyes crinkle when you blink at him all dazed.

MDNI 18+ / ~ 2.6k words / Oneshot

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games), Modern Warfare II (2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Reader Additional Tags: No use of y/n, POV Second Person, Smut, light fluff, Oral Sex, gender neutral reader, Brat John "Soap" MacTavish, A little bit anyway, Gender neutral terms of endearment for reader, Light Dom/sub, Hand Job, briefly, Soap gets most of the attention in this one folks, Light Possessive Language, Oneshot, Author Has Played Call of Duty, not well, but I did, Reboot John "Soap" MacTavish, Reader is an Operator, Desperate John "Soap" MacTavish, Not Beta Read, we die like (redacted), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot Summary:

Soap and you find yourselves in a safe house all on your own, in a rare moment free of danger, and manage to steal it for yourselves, indulging in some much needed RNR.

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"Tha's it, pet." Soap praises, his voice low and soft, a sound that's gradually been growing to be more and more of a comfort to you as of late, it mixes beautifully with the slick sound of his cock easing in and out of your mouth. He always takes his time with you when you let him have you like this, as if making sure to savour it, even his thick, scarred fingers which were tangled amongst the roots of your hair had a certain gentleness to them, amplified further by the way his other hand was caressing your cheek, the pad of his thumb tenderly brushing over the corner of your eyes, wiping away the involuntary tears that had gathered there and clung stubbornly to your lashes, before doing the same to the bit of drool that managed to escape from the corner of your mouth, and had been lazily dribbling down your chin.

Despite the way it makes your jaw twinge, getting to see the way his breathing gradually gets shallower, louder, adding to the symphony that always accompanied your intimate moments together alongside his staccato groans and grunts, made it all worth it. "Jus' like tha'." Every sound he made was nothing short of addictive, and you were determined to make it your life's mission to pull all of them from Soap's lips until you memorized them all.

Which is why you fight against his grasp to push him deeper into your mouth, until you can feel the weeping tip of his cock kiss the back of your throat, before you swallow around him. A low strangled groan forces its way out of Soap's body, seemingly startling the man himself as much as it delights you. He huffs and pulls you back up some, his hips twitch off the bunk, chasing the warmth of your mouth reflexively, as he shoots you a reprimanding look, one that didn't really come across as anything other than fond, which had his striking blue eyes — that are as vibrant as ever, even in the low lighting of the safe house, as if taking personal offence to anything that'd dare to try to hide them, and shining anyway from a mix of spite and Soap's special brand of unbridled defiance — narrowing minutely, doing nothing to hide the way they practically glinted with amusement and want. "Easy wi' tha', dinnae need ye hurtin' yerself."

You roll your eyes at him, and huff through your nose. With the tip of your tongue you follow one of the veins along the underside of Soap's cock up the length of his shaft, only to smooth your tongue right back out on the underside of his tip and running it right back down, over and over again. "Cheeky." Soap barely manages the word, his voice trailing off into another unsteady vocalization of his pleasure as his lashes flutter, fanning out when his eyes were mostly closed. That doesn't spur you to relent though. You both know that he likes it— he likes when you mouth off to him, when you walk by him brushing your hand along the small of his back, when you squeeze his arse when you know you can get away with it, when you eye him up, especially if you do it at a time where he's not allowed to immediately get his hands on you and retaliate, like during briefings.

Even with how much Soap seemed to live for you riling him up till he snapped, he never got rough about it, not unless you went out of your way to ask for him to. No, your big bad Sargent liked to keep a soft touch— even after you teased and prodded him to his limits with fleeting touches and words of filth whispered against the shell of his ear whenever they'd pop into mind, leaving him redfaced and caught off guard, often resulting in him staring at you like a puppy that just had a steak pulled out from under it as you'd go back to whatever it was you had been doing, teeth pressing against your bottom lip as you fruitlessly tried to force down your smirk.

When he'd finally break — and he always did no matter what it was that you had been doing to him — and take you over a desk, or against a wall, in the armoury, in your rooms in the barracks, or like now, on an old lumpy bunk that creaked at any and every movement, tucked away in a remote location in a safe house that was held together with little more than rusty nails and a fraying hope, with a crackling fire and the soft moonlight easing through the windows acting as your sole sources of light, he was still so fucking gentle. Touching you as if you were something delicate, or fleeting, like he thought if he moved too fast or pressed too hard you'd flit out of his touch like a startled finch, or as if you were a vase at risk of shattering into countless shards.

Keeping your hands flat, you gently smooth your palms over the tops of his thighs, savouring the way you could feel the slightest of tremours in them. His belt buckle jingles softly, hitting against itself from your fingers catching the hem of his pants. In your rush to get at him earlier you had merely pushed down as much as they had to be, leaving them quickly forgotten after the fact.

It was about time you corrected that.

Shifting on your knees, you draw back until only the head of Soap's cock remained in your mouth so that your tongue could still lap at him while giving you just enough space to fuss with Soap's clothes, an action that has Soap letting out a broken off whimper. A sound which is quickly chased by a slew of what was presumably curses, but was so enwrapped in Soap's accent — now much thicker from how worked up he was and worsened further by his budding frustration from being pent up — that you couldn't make out anything intelligible. Your hands trail lower to fumble with Soap's combat boots, pulling at the knot of the laces until it loosens, and you can ease his feet out of both of them, dropping them behind yourself to be found later. Eventually he seems to pull himself together enough for you to catch a few things, at least. "Yer nae playin' fair, pet. Cannae jus' dae this ta me." He whines rather petulantly.

Just for that, you pull off of him properly, his poor cock twitches where it lays against his abdomen, making an absolute mess of his shirt. To stop him fussing further you wrap your hand around him and lazily pump him, the quiet slick sounds filling the space between you both, as your other hand works on pulling his pants and boxers down the rest of the way, letting them fall in a heap at your knees. Soap's hips twitch up into your movements, as if trying to goad you into moving faster, but you simply use your elbow to press into his hip, keeping him down while you continue to stroke him. "You're so spoiled, you know that? Should just leave your sorry ass like this."

A proper grin pulls at Soap's lips, and he looks down at you through his lashes, with a glint in his eyes that was the pinnacle of pleased— like a puppy that had managed to charm its way into stealing an entire bag of treats. "Aye, ah ken, but ye wouldnae dare. Ye like spoilin' me, luvvy." There's just something about the way he looks above you, his chest heaving and a healthy flush darkening his skin along his cheekbones, while he's blatantly biting his bottom lip and looking at you like you're the only thing in the world worth looking at, that causes something in your chest to ache and twist in a way that shouldn't be as heady as it is.

Instead of dignifying Soap with an actual reply right away, you just grunt softly, vaguely providing him with a, "Maybe." as you hook your arm under one of Soap's knees, guiding it up so that his thigh presses against his stomach; you can feel the muscle jump under your touch. "God knows why I do, you're always such a fucking brat about it." Your protests are contrary, you know they are, especially with the way you're fisting his cock and lazily rolling your hips against the leg Soap still has firmly planted on the ground in a rather fruitless bid to take a bit of your own edge off. You spoil him because it's him, and as much as he can be a prick or a brat sometimes, at the end of the day Soap had still batted his eyes at you, and managed to sidle up to you enough that he found a nice warm place to curl up in your chest like a stray dog in a sunspot. He was a brat, a loud mouth, a bit of a know-it-all even when he wouldn't let on that he was, and he seemed to find a new way to get himself in and out of trouble every day, but god damn it, he was still your stray dog, and like hell were you going to give him anything less than every breath you took, every bit of blood rushing in your veins through your pounding heart, and every bone in your body.

You'd give him everything, because he was yours, and there was no way you'd ever let this ridiculous man forget it.

"Shite..." Soap hisses through his teeth, both his hands move to tangle in the thin sheets laid over the bunk, as the way his hips meet your hand begins to grow sloppier and more uneven. "M' nae a brat." The protest passes Soap's lips weakly, any bite it possibly could have had was dulled even further by the way his cock was practically drooling all over your hand, and the persistent groans and whimpers leaving him.

While you let it drop for now, you most certainly plan on getting him back for back-talking you later. Right now though, you have much more pressing things to pay attention to, like the way he's so visibly close to falling apart under you, his leg was trembling under your hand as his vocalizations got even more unabashed. The way the corner of your mouth lifts as you watch him is entirely involuntary; not that you do much in the way of trying to stop it from happening in the first place, mind. Hearing how Soap keeps murmuring your name doesn't exactly do much but encourage your expression and touches, especially when he practically keens as you take him back into your mouth, even if it's just the head of his cock. You're already pressing your elbow harder against his hip to keep him from lifting them too much and fucking into your mouth mindlessly; you both know that if he wanted to he could knock your arm out of the way, but even with how little blood was left in his brain he behaved and let you keep him down.

That doesn't stop him from wrapping his thick fingers around your wrist, trying to encourage you to pump his shaft faster. "Fuck, c'mon pet. M' so close ta comin', ye gotta let me. Please, please." There's a steadily growing note of desperation to his voice, the hand he still has tangled in the sheets curls tighter, pulling them hard enough that they now lay heavily askew on the bunk. As much as there's a part of you that delights in the idea of pulling back again, leaving him there heavy and aching, you can only be so cruel to him in one night, so you let him guide your hand, squeezing him just a bit tighter, if only to hear the way his voice gets rougher, a stream of words passing his lips mindlessly as he chases his finish, mostly your name intermixed with a healthy dose of 'fuck, please, yes,' and of course a slew of babbled, 'thank ye,'s over and over again.

It doesn't take long for even that to shift into 'God ah'm so close,' and 'oh ah'm gonna come in yer bonnie mouth, pet. Gonna make sure ye taste m'fer days.'

You just squeeze the underside of his knee, not like you can talk around him, besides, you didn't want to waste any extra brainpower trying to formulate intelligible words; not when you could be using it instead to memorize every little way Soap was starting to crumble under you, the muscles in his thighs jumped as his back arched off the mattress, both of his blue eyes glazing over, wide but staring up at the ceiling unseeingly, at least until they flutter closed, your name bullies it's way out of his mouth, followed by a few more curses, and some pure unfiltered praise, as his come fills your mouth in thick spurts that you're quick to swallow down before he makes a mess, or at least, so he doesn't make any more of one than he already has.

Using his hold on your wrist, he guides you unsteadily off your knees, and on top of himself, causing your legs to tangle with his own. While he lets out a soft hiss of oversensitivity when you accidentally brush against him, Soap just winds his arms around your shoulders and pulls you in even closer for a kiss, tasting himself on your tongue with a soft groan. The way he's touching you quickly lost the notable edge of desperation that had been there before, the usual gentleness taking its place. "Yer tae good 'fer me, luvvy." He murmurs, as he brushes your lips together again.

One of your hands finds its way into his mohawk, absently tugging your fingers through the strands in a bid to try to bring some order to the mussed strands, before tangling near his nape and forcing his head back, he grunts, but doesn't fight you. There's something addicting about the way he always just lets you move him about, especially with the way it makes his eyes spark, and had his breath — which had yet to return to normal — quickening once more. You were more than willing to take advantage of him tolerating this while you could. "You're not getting off that easily, MacTavish." You say in as equally as low of a tone. "I'm not done with you yet." After all, you were still worked up and aching yourself, and you well and planned on making that Soap's problem, much like he had with you.

That familiar cheeky grin returns at full force as if you had just offered Soap everything under the tree on Christmas morning. "Aye, didnae think ah'd ferget aboot ye, pet." A shocked gasp passes your lips as he abruptly flips you both over, which causes the bunk to creak in protest under your combined weight on its old springs. Your gasp is quick to turn into a soft huff of amusement as he pins you beneath him and presses close, like he's doing his best to meld you together. "Gonna take such good care o' ye, luvvy." He murmurs as he peppers your face and neck in little fleeting kisses, as if eager to please you and trying his best to love on you everywhere at once.

You can't help the way you laugh at his antics, which somehow only seems to encourage him further as his hands find your hips, dragging you closer. Rolling your eyes fondly, you use your hold on his hair to pull him back in for another kiss.

He might be a brat, and a bit of a stray, but for better or for worse, he's definitely yours.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you have any ideas/prompts of what I should write next, feel free to comment or send me an ask. I’m open to writing more stuff with Soap, or any of the other members of the 141 (either with each other, reader, or a combination of everyone).

Fluff and theft

Note: This is my first try at writing x reader, so I apologize if it is a bit cringe or weird, I‘m still learning. I also have never played the games, so I don’t have a perfect view on their personalities, but I‘ve tried to get it as accurate as possible. Word count: 619

Prompt: "Is that my shirt you're wearing?" Gender neutral reader; platonic, can be read as a bit more.

Ghost:

It wasn't your fault, really. You fell into the mud on the obstacle course, and well, that was your last clean shirt. Conveniently there was one of Ghosts giant shirts laying around in the laundry room. It was so comfy, but you could use it as a dress. Where it looked tight on him, it completely engulfed your body.

"Is that my shirt you're wearing?", a deep voice sounded behind you as walked in the common room. "No....", you mumbled. Ghost chuckled. "I give you a ten seconds head start", he said. Shit.

You ran. But it was no use, of course. Ghost was way faster than you. When he caught up to you, he quickly put you in a head lock. You couldn’t move, but you could feel he was still being gentle. „I need my shirts, (name), you know?“, he grumbled. You snickered. „Yea, and so do I“ You knew he was frowning, even if you couldn’t see it. „I‘ll get it back tomorrow. Washed. Otherwise, you’ll be doing at least ten laps around base“, he said.

„Yes sir“

Gaz:

His shirt just looked so inviting, it really wasn't your fault. When he forgets his shirt in the laundry room, oh well, he has to expect it to be stolen.

"Is that my shirt you're wearing?", an amused voice sounded from the kitchen when you walked in the common room. "Maybe", you said. Gaz chuckled and rolled his eyes. „Are you planning to steal my wardrobe?“, he asked. You looked at the shirt, which had a big „Garrick“ written on the front. „Noooo, you know I‘d never do that“. Gaz snorted. „Oh, I know you would, (name)“. You looked at him with played offence. He just shrugged. „We’re team mates, I know you a bit at this point“. You flipped him off and tugged at the shirt. „Just so you know, this is mine now“, you stated, walking out the common room. „Oh no no no, no it isn’t“, you could hear Gaz and started running. „Catch me if you can, pretty boy!“, you shouted.

Soap:

Mixed up laundry, it happens. It wasn’t your fault, now you had a big shirt in your basket, which clearly wasn’t yours. Not that that’d stop you.

"Is that my shirt you're wearing?", Soap chuckled when you walked into the common room. „Yup. It was in my laundry basket“, you said, opening the cup board. „Is that so?“, he grinned, looking you up and down. The shirt was way too big for you, not that you minded. It was comfy. „Not that you’re not looking good in it, but I kinda need that shirt“, he said. You shrugged. „You can have one of mine“. He laughed. „I highly doubt that’d work. You’re way smaller than me, shorty“. „Oh well“, you said, „then you’ll have to get a new one issued“. He rolled his eyes and got up from the couch, stepping behind you. „I‘ll get it back tomorrow“, he said. „Maybe“.

Price:

It wasn’t your fault Price left his shirt in the locker room. He should care more about his stuff.

You walked in the common room, Price sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen. He looked at you slightly confused. "Is that my shirt you're wearing?" „Yup. You left it in the locker room“. You looked down at the shirt. „Comfy. Mine now“, you stated. He chuckled. „I don’t think so, soldier. I need that back“. You gave him puppy eye „But it’s comfy“. He rolled his eyes. „I‘m not gonna get that shirt back, am I?“. You giggled. „One day“. He shook his head. „One day I won’t have anything to wear“. You smirked. „I won’t complain“

Cuddling with Soap❤️

Fluff and a drabble

Soap x GN!Reader

God he would be yapping the whole time as he held you close to his chest. Every moment or two he’d shift or change positions not feeling comfortable enough or wanting to be closer to you. His big smile would constantly be in your face or in your ear spouting about whatever comes to mind. Whether it is how beautiful you are or how Ghost was a bastard for making him run laps around the track.

His hands would always be wandering around your skin resting your hips, chest, or neck. Its not for any sexual reason despite Johnny being a dog its a reminder that your alive. Your warm skin and your heart beat calms his racing mind knowing you’re here with him.

If he does fall asleep before you and tucks your head under his chin holding you tightly. He wraps his legs around yours resting his arms around your chest. Whenever you shift or try to get up he just holds you tight muttering something unintelligible before relaxing again.

If you falls asleep first Johnny lays your head on a pillow. He lays next to you watching your blissfully calm face, your chest rising and falling with each breath. He admires you for minutes to hours, he never keeps track of time. These are the moments he cherishes when hes in some far away place away from you. Whether it be in some ramshackle building or in the forest these memories keep him warm at night.

How the TF141 boys would take care of you after a long day!

GN!READER

CW: Brief mentions of nudity but no smut, Fluff!Nicknames used: love, gorgeous, baby, mo ghràdh

MDNI!

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Before you even step through the door he knows you’ve had a hard day. The way you text has changed slightly, not many would notice it but he does.

Simon makes sure the house is cleaned and the dishes are put away so you dont have to worry about it. He finds a candle he believes you’d like and light it so the house is filled with a warm scent. He makes sure to clean the blankets on the bed so when you finally get to rest your head they can be fresh out of the dryer.

When you drag yourself through the door feeling like hell he is there. He gently picks you up ignoring any protest and lays you onto the bed. Seeing you melt against the warm sheets brings a smile to his face.

Simon undresses you with the utmost care sliding on your favorite pajamas. As he does so his calloused hands massage your tender muscles worshipping your beautiful body. Once your dressed and relaxed he climbs into bed next to you. Simon pulls you against his chest cradling your head into the crook of his neck.

“Relax love your home now, I got you”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has been texting you throughout the day letting you vent your frustrations. The day has been a train wreck and you’re ready to collapse from exhaustion. When you enter your shared home your ready to collapse on your bed and end the day.

Kyle instead whisks you away to the bathroom despite you whining about how you want to go to bed. When he opens the door to the bathroom it is so serene. The lights are off but there are multiple candles surrounding the tub filled with bubbles. The room smells of lavender immediately relaxing you. Next to the tub is a bath robe and your favorite slippers.

As your about to take off your clothes, Kyle gently replaces your hands with his. He takes off your clothes and neatly folds them off to the side. Kyle kisses your temple wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I gotcha gorgeous, just let me pamper you”

He takes you by the hand helping you into the tub as you sink deep into the bubbles. Kyle washes your hair and skin using oils to make sure you’re nice and soft when you come out. His hands massage the knots out of your neck wanting to be sure you’re as comfortable as humanly possible.

John Price

John is working from home He runs down the stairs to see your red puffy face filled with tears as sobs escape your lips. John takes you into his arms letting you finally let everything out. As you cry and sob about how horrible the day was he nods and whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

John gently sits you down onto the couch wrapping you in a soft blanket holding you close to his chest. His calloused thumbs wipes each tear that falls from your eyes and kisses your reddened cheeks. John rubs your back in slow smooth circles calming you down until your sobs become hiccups.

When he sees you have calmed down he gently pulls away telling you to sit back and watch your favorite movie. He disappears for a bit as you quietly watch the movie till a nice aroma wafts into the living room. John comes back with a soft smile and in his hands a plate of your favorite food.

“Hello love, made your favorite”

He sits by your side placing the dish on the coffee table. John lays you on his chest leaning back against the couch letting you sit back and relax.

“Just relax for me baby, I’m not leaving your side any time soon.”

John “Soap” Mactavish

You slam the door open with so much force that your a tiny bit worried that there will be hole in the wall. The day has been hellish and the anger deep down has boiled to the surface. Everything is driving you up the walls from the tag on your shirt rubbing against your neck to the rough socks scraping your heel. You kick the door shut behind you tossing your shoes off.

Johnny jumps off the couch worried about you, “mo ghràdh, whits wrong?”

You look towards him finally losing any patience you’ve had, “Whats wrong? Whats wrong?!”

He stands there as you pace yelling about every minor and major inconvenience, every problem you had today. Its takes a while til your tuckered out and left hollow. He takes you gently into his arms swaying back and forth.

“I’m sorry ya had a horrid day luv, sorry I wasnae there to comfort ya”

You only shake your head insisting it isnt his fault, you were just so wound up and exploded. As you try to explain he kisses you stopping the endless rambling.

Johnny guides you to the couch grabbing the fluffiest blanket placing it on you. He sits next to you joining you under the blankets. Johnny reaches to the controllers on the coffee table silently offering you the second one.

Both of you play for hours on end laughing and yelling at one another totally forgetting about the day. All you know now is the love that Johnny has for you and the warmth you feel when your with him.

Fluff!✨• JohnnyxReader •❤️🧼

It was a long hard mission, everyone was beaten down and exhausted. There is a constant ring in everyones ears as they feel the cold wind chill their bones.

There was no conversation or banter tonight everyone ready to drop dead when they got back to base. Prices cigar smoke wafts through the air making it smell warm like his office.

Your body feels like it was pushed to its very limit, the muscles relax despite the hard metal. The helicopter blades are deafening even with the headphones on. Despite that your eyes start to flutter shut, you try and fight it but its been a long day.

With a small bump your head lands on Johnnys shoulder and you are out like a light. Johnny jumps a little surprised but he immediately stills. A small smile creeps onto his face as he wraps his arm around your waist.

He rests his head against yours yawning, feeling the same pull to slumber as you did.

“Have a good sleep bonnie, I’ll see ya when ah wake up”

He pulls you just a tad bit closer feeling comfort with you by your side. With one more yawn he succumbs to sleep letting himself dream.