#i miss soap

[arabellarileysworld]

i hate hate hate "insecure!ghost" so so much. (kind of mwiii spoilers lolll)

you cannot convince me that that man is not fine as hell, and he knows! he knows! do the people who write him like a crazy insecure man not understand he literally said he wasn't ugly when talking w soap? (come home bae the kids miss u)

he wouldn't start screaming and crying if someone ripped his mask off, he'd get angry, yeah, because the person is being disrespectful but i truly don't think he would care that much. yes he'd get self conscious at points but who doesn't? and if he did i wouldn't imagine him showing it.

also gotta say that hes got brown eyes, idc what anyone says, hes blonde w brown eyes 🫰🏻

(only small thoughts but anyways)

[imjustinsanee]

Is it just me who just CANT read Soap fanfics, especially Wattpad ones? I actually feel like if lost a family member or a friend, Like they all end in his death, obviously. You do have some good ones who just skips the whole pointless death part and we end up having a nice happy family on a farm in Scotland, getting married, always having fresh milk from cows, no one bothering, no deaths, children and then more children. Like it should be.

[ramvur]

good morning

[yooo-lets-go]

Johnny, you with me?

[eric-makes-art]

I was feeling SAD when soap died right in front of me when I was playing mw3

[wombywoo]

retired 🩶

[fixfoxnox]

This is beginning to look less like a fic and more like Canon lads /j

With every "Roach is ghosts dead fiance 🥺" or "Roach sent soap for ghost 🥺" I grow stronger. And one day, I will have enough strength to write a purely vindictive fic where SOAP is ghosts dead ex fiance and ghost falls in love with ROACH.

I'm gonna pull a switcheroo on them

Anyways GhostRoachSoap for the win

[gomzdrawfr]

🍰 Cafe AU ☕️

[arualthefirst]

Squished🙂‍↕️

[s3rrrpentine]

grabby hands

comm is back on baby ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage

you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out

"i'm calling shepherd"

his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books: to go up the chain. that goes against everything we've seen him do. he bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns

he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer. there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends

nothing's happened yet

it doesn't have to go this way

but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy

he doesn't hesitate

it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from

only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat

and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for

"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"

he's learned the price of trust

just like ghost did

but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath

"good advice, It"

[deathblossomm]

new found video of Neil posted on October 31 on Fort Irwin's Facebook page

[furiosophie]

((zombie ghost this, zombie ghost that, what about eldritch!soap who came back wrong??))

[webrollus]

grand slams

[killerpancakeburger]

Currently in an angsty mood.

On top of the xmas fic, I have one about a fat, insecure Reader who hates their body but deals by mostly ignoring it. Until they start dating Johnny. They plan to hide their body from him until it's not possible anymore and, when he inevitably breaks up with them after seeing them naked, they'll just have to suck it up.

Spoilers but not really: Soap ends up seeing them nude by accident, but there's no way he's leaving. (Plus, you’re even more mouthwatering than he imagined) He can’t believe you find yourself ugly. First of all, how dare you. That's his partner you’re talking about. Second of all, he's a very persuasive man. He'll change your mind.

I also want to write about Soap losing his mind over Reader wanting to break up (for bad/bs reasons) with him. I want him to not be able to picture a future where they're gone. I want him begging on his knees for Reader to not leave him. As some fucked up way to demonstrate how much he cares about them, how much they means to him, how viscerally he needs them.

[stuffeddrawer]

cw: sex pollen, insanity?, lots of swearing if you're not into that. omegaverse reader is a sub alpha, tf141 are dom omegas bc i say so word count: 1497 MDNI

(divider by @cafekitsune)

You fucked up.

It’s not even a big screw up, not yet. It’s not even world ending, but the tiniest inconveniences drove you up the damn wall and your mind was already distracted with a thousand other things. You find it hard to believe that people’s minds are usually quiet, are supposed to be quiet – yours has always been loud.

This isn’t what’s fucked up.

You’re in the middle of a deployment, started feeling off a few days ago but you brushed it off. Fool. Your brain chastises you. Should listen to your gut more often. Now look at you. Huffing and puffing and—

You noticed this off feeling a day before you went off on your mission – even that was supposed to be simple. Truly – get in, get out. Done. Supposedly.

But even that was still messed up.

You thought you tracked your cycle correctly, thought you had everything prepared, thought this mission wouldn’t overlap with your cycle, thought thought thought—

You picked at your gear, growing increasingly frustrated with every buckle, every strap. Every single piece of gear on your person, right down to your extra pair of gloves, was beginning to irritate you. You fucked up.

Your groan was loud enough to be heard when you couldn’t put your silencer on fast enough. You were already frustrated with your upcoming rut, skin flushed and warm, vision already tunnelled and now the sudden influx of hostiles did nothing to soothe that roar in your chest, the ringing in your ears. It did nothing to calm that angry alpha in your brain.

You were so frustrated with everything and everyone that you didn’t immediately smell something sweet in the air, something sweet enough to make you dizzy, discombobulated, your mind honing in on one thing and one thing only. That sweet, sweet omega smell. It took a moment, but your mind swam, vision blurred, growls and huffs leaving your mouth, desperate for someone to sink your teeth into, for someone to use you, for you to use someone. You didn’t care.

You fucked up.

You shouldn’t have gone on this mission, not when you knew you could go into a rut at any given time. You knew, you knew, and you still went. You knew this wasn’t going to end well, knew that something was going to happen. Fool. Knotted with anxiety and stress and you still should have trusted your gut. You wanted to wonder what the hell was wrong with you, that you could have sworn you had an extra day or two to really make sure you had everything you needed, but with that roar in your ears, the desperation seeping into your bones, you just don’t fucking care.

You pad over to where you thought the door was, rolling your eyes when you find it’s been locked. Shit. Your stomach growls, you think you growl, your blood rushing in your ears too loudly for you to understand just what the hell is happening. That smell is so sweet, like some pretty omega you just want to sink-

You huff, trying to take deep breaths once you realise what happened, just what exactly they’ve gassed you with, the room they’ve locked you in. Your cycle was forced to start, your gut was telling you this was going to happen. Your mind is racing and you just can’t keep up. You growl, yell, scream, throw yourself against the door, desperate to get it open, but it won’t budge. Like your stubbornness and inability to listen to what your body’s telling you, the door doesn’t open, doesn’t so much as whine when you press your weight against it.

You think you cry out when you move, the ache in your bones growing, the heat pooling between your legs almost burning now as your knees crash against the concrete beneath you. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Or does it feel so fucking good when you start to palm yourself? You don’t know. Your mind is so twisted and hazy, solely focused on one thing, and to have that thing denied to you? You think you’re going insane. Your grip on reality feels like it’s starting to slip.

You can’t even hear your radio sparking to life, can’t hear Price demanding a check in, can’t hear him repeating what he said, this time more urgently, a hint of fear perhaps? You really can’t tell if it’s just the blood in your ears rushing south, your entire body aching and on fire, or if he’s actually talking. You feel like you’re going insane. Going feral.

Your body writhes on the floor, equal parts bliss and agony, stars bursting in your eyes but you can’t tell if it’s from the pain or the pleasure. Or both. Sometimes it’s both. This time it just fucking hurts. Or does it? You don’t know. You don’t care. You fucked up.

You didn’t want to fuck the seam in your pants or your hand, you just wanted to get this mission done and spend your cycle surrounded by your packmates, surrounded by the people you trusted the most, people you knew would take care of you. God, it fucking hurts.

You want Kyle against your back, holding your arms behind you, whispering sweet nothings and cooing into your ear. Johnny to tease your nipples, bite and mark up your throat. You want John and Simon to make your legs shake, want them to use you as their own toy, want to be left mindless and fucked stupid, satisfied with your pretty omegas at your side, purring and content. You want Johnny and Kyle to clean you up, lick you clean, you want all these things, but you’re left on the floor in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere, desperate and borderline feral.

You shift your hips back and forth as you practically grind on your hand, on your knees now, groaning into your arm with your eyes screwed tight. You wanted someone to take you for all you had, make your legs shake and throat raw from how you practically cry out their name, treat you right like they’ve always treated you, how you’ve always treated them.

You fucked up and were now writhing on the floor, entire body shaking from the pain in your system, a small puddle of drool forming on the floor from how you’re sat – knelt? Bowed? You peek your eyes open, try to take a look around the room, try to find another way to escape, to free yourself, to eat and be eaten. Your vision is too hazy, too fuzzy for you to make anything out. You can’t focus on anything other than the ache between your legs.

The whine that fills the room – you think fills the room – is nothing short of desperate, angry and loud. Your chest hurts from how heavy you’re breathing, you can’t think past the ache in your bones, you think you cry out again, your finger pressing a button – buttons? You don’t know – your mind’s slipping away from you faster than you can catch it, like trying to hold fog. You don’t even feel scared anymore, just so fucking horny, desperate, pleading for someone to use you and for you to take your time with them, please, please, please.

God, you’re so hungry, your entire body shaking, growls and huffs leaving your lips as it feels like the walls are closing in – it hurts, it hurts so fucking good. You hump your hand faster, angry, but it’s still not enough. You want to feel your packmates’ hands on you, want to feel every inch of them, want them on you, in you, you don’t care – you want them in the worst way, but you fucked up and you’re stuck here, growling at nothing. You draw your hand back, hand slick with your arousal, room heavy with the scent of an alpha starting their cycle, forced to start it. You try to move, throw yourself against the wall to break yourself out of this trance, out of your own mind, but it only makes your brain break faster, sanity slipping like sand through dry fingers.

That stupid omega sweet scent drove you insane, you want more, crave more, are aching for more. Your mind felt like goo, like every sense of You was long gone. You think you hear the door open. Too late.

You’re too fucked up to recognise him, too feral to notice the boonie hat, the three other men standing behind him – you snarl at whoever walked in. Your body’s tense, more tightly wound than anyone’s ever seen. Your gaze is hungry and angry, and fucking famished. You’re starving, you’re angry, you’re so desperate for an omega to fuck, you’re—

You leap, your teeth barred and mind blank, snapped like a dry twig in the middle of a sweltering summer.

The task force’s now-feral alpha is knocked out before their teeth can do any lasting damage to their captain.