#john soap mactavish x black reader

[thatanonymouschocolate]

Sharing stuff I drew and posted on one of my twitter accounts onto over here bc why not? 🤷🏾

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Imagine Johnny coming back from deployment and he goes to open 'er (your legs) up and then all you see is horror on his face.

You shaved. That's it. No period, nothing scary down there. But to him?

Guys he's fucking BAWLING. I think if this was his first time since coming back from deployment he'd lose his shit AND ACTUALLY CRY.

"bonnie... Ye shaved 'er bald," he says, having to keep from crying, "what'll keep 'er warm in the winter?"

[lxvvie]

using their dogtags as a leash 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ >>>

For Price, you used his dog tags to pull him up from between your legs so you could kiss him and yes, thanks to you, his beard is blessed and highly moisturized.

You're the one with Soap's tags on and he's using them to keep you upright, lips brushing together but not quite kissing, as he fucks you nice and slow on the countertop.

Well, you... you don't know how you got Gaz's tags in your hand but you have them. The only thing you remembered was you two with your tongue down each other's throat and now you're face first in the pillow, doggy-style, one hand clutching the sheets for dear life and the other holding his tags to stay as sane as possible. Which can only work but for so long because the dick is good and you keep trying to move away, but Gaz has an iron grip on them hips. 💋

You might've been aiming for Simon's... shoulders? Neck? Fuck if you know. You were just aiming to hold on to something when he first thrust that cock home. It always happens whenever he enters you; it takes your breath away, you gasp, shudder, press against him even more, try to hold on to him but one hand's clutching his chain, and... bloody fuckin' hell, it feels so damn good.

[kechiwrites]

totally platonic

johnny "soap" mactavish x best friend!reader kinktober countdown, day three (recording)

synopsis: soap helps you give your ex something real to worry about. 🎥

wc: 1.6k

cw: recording / making a sex tape, revenge, allusions to potential cheating (emotional?), fem + afab!reader, anal play, fingering, creampies, unprotected sex, spitting, mentions of cunnilingus

author's note: my first forray into soap, for the anon who asked for soap helping reader get revenge...like a million years ago.

“No, no, into the camera, I don’t want the poor fuck to miss your face when you come. Fucker’s probably never seen it. Not for real anyway.” Soap squeezes at the back of your neck, just firm enough to get you to lift your face out of your pillows. Enough to get you to stare into your phone’s camera. Your eyes make a fevered, strained connection with the tiny lens and a thrill runs through you, up your spine and out of your mouth in the form of Soap’s name. 

“Yes.” He hisses digging his fingertips into the flesh at your hips, tugging you back onto his length. 

Were you your ex, in about an hour or so, you’d get a video attachment with the sparkling heart emoji you loved to use in place of a caption. Were you your ex, you’d open the video, rolling your eyes and anticipating six minutes of you crying and whimpering apologies. Instead, you’d get an eyeful of your glassy expression, your clammy face, your open mouth, mumbling incoherently while Soap’s hips smacked hard against your back side.

You’d have seen the opening moments of the video you're currently shooting where Soap had zoomed in on the puffy lips of your cunt, documenting the way his dick slid over your labia over and over until you moaned deep in your throat off screen. You would’ve heard your own empty headed pleading with Johnny to “stop teasing already” before he sunk into you proper, pushing into your pussy, letting the camera catch him stretching you open, making you take every inch while you drooled obscenities. 

Thankfully though, you aren’t your ex, so you get to experience every second of Soap painstakingly taking you apart live and in-fucking-colour. 

It hadn’t been intentional. Soap is your friend, your best friend. Either of you would proudly take a bullet for the other. You’ve spent years in each other’s company, raiding each other’s fridges, crying on each other’s shoulders, laughing at one another’s dumbass jokes. You fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Totally. Platonic. Puzzle Pieces.

What makes the whole “having sex with your best friend and recording it” thing worse (or better, if you asked Johnny), is that your ex had always doubted the innocence of yours and MacTavish’s relationship, always muttering bitterly in the presence of your friendship. He’d argued over and over that Soap was “into you” and you just “didn’t want to see it”. And maybe you hadn’t. Maybe it made things easier to not address the casual intimacy of your actions, the long hugs, the near mouth kisses, the cuddling. You didn’t even want to consider the much too frequent occasions where you’d catch him staring at your mouth, or when you’d catch yourself leering at his arms, or the sex dreams. The goddamn sex dreams. Night after accursed night of Dream You and Dream Soap going at it like animals. Fucking like it’s what you were born to do.

Fucking the way you are right now.

He clasps a hand around your nape again, squeezing before he runs his palm down your sweat slick back. Soap presses deft fingers against your sides, gripping hard and punching forward again, rocking your entire body towards the camera. He’s going painfully slow, and the heavy glide of his cock inside you is mind-numbing. There’s no way the face you’re making to the camera lens is attractive, but later, when you're cuddled against him in your bed, rewatching the video, Soap will insist it’s perfect. 

Right now though, who gives a fuck what you look like, when you can feel Johnny rearranging your insides with his dick. 

He groans, spreading your ass to get a better look at his cock disappearing into you. “Fuck me.” He draws it out, voice drunk and deep with pleasure. You look over your shoulder at him, whispering something so low it doesn’t get picked up on camera.

And Soap couldn’t have that, could he?

“Tell him.” Your hips stutter, slowing the rhythm the two of you have built, your mind is already clouded with lust, thoughts obscured by the sensation of Johnny fucking you like he hates you.

Or loves you.

You really could not give less of shit about the difference tonight,

“Tell him, sweet.” He jerks his chin at your phone, propped up against a pillow and recording every second of your debasement in the highest definition the three year old device can manage.

Shivers wrack your body but you concede, facing the camera. “I asked him to spit on me.”

“Where did you ask for it? Don’t be shy.” He goads, picking up your slack, jolting you back and forth with deep thrusts, bottoming out then withdrawing until only the flushed scarlet tip of his cock is inside you, only for him to fuck back into you, grinding against your abused walls.

“My ass.” You moan, teeth bared as you try to breathe through your impending orgasm. “I asked him to spit on my ass.” You pant the answer, ”Cause you never wanted to.”

Soap’s laugh is boisterous, vindictive and loud, and he obliges you, finally, spitting at the furl of your asshole. The sensation makes you shiver, and you clench down on him, nearly wailing when your best friend’s thumb begins rubbing insistently at the rim of your hole, spreading his spit with purpose.

“Think I can get my thumb in there?” He huffs, and bends over, his chest blanketing your back so his face is in the camera too. Soap drags the very tip of her tongue over the shell of your ear, biting down softly on your earlobe, sucking at the skin beneath it before he addresses the lens this time, “Whaddya say, Leo? Think I can get my thumb in ‘er?” He rubs his forehead against the nape of your neck before levering back up, out of frame. “I think I can.” He murmurs happily, pressing the pad of the digit against your hole, quietly urging you to push against him, to breathe easy, until you part around the finger. Your whole body just melts as you get used to it, being full. Johnny begins moving again, stroking you deep then grinding inside you, rubbing his hands over your sides, squeezing, groping, touching like he can’t believe you’re here. Like he can’t believe he gets to have you like this.

He wiggles his thumb, pulling it to the side so he can stare at how he’s filled you completely. You can practically hear him ruminating on how he was going to convince you to let him fuck you there, stretch your ass open and spill his seed where no one had before. Lay an irrefutable claim.

Or maybe that was just you.

Honestly, it really didn’t matter because the pace at which Soap is pistoning into you, making your cunt weep, made every little thought that managed to grow in your mind die almost instantaneously.

"Mm...Johnny, I'm close" you grab at the hand he has anchored to your waist. The hair on his thighs rubs against you, the friction and the feel of his balls slapping against your clit speeding you towards an orgasm for the fucking record books. And contrary to Soap's posturing, you didn't fake orgasms, who the fuck had time for that? However, the ones Leo occasionally gave you were nothing like what you felt coming. You struggled not to bite your tongue clean off as ecstasy shot through you, your breath stalling in your lungs. You flee forward when Soap presses his thumb into your ass as far as it could go, pulling his unoccupied hand out of yours so he could rub tight circles over the hood of your clit. It's too much, gratification and sensation and reckless fucking pleasure.

Look at you, running from dick. Who'da thunk it?

"Oh that's not happening." Johnny rasps, breaking his own rhythm once, then twice, abandoning your clit to pull you back onto him. "Take it. Let him see how you take it." Another, smaller, climax tears through your last bit of restraint, all caught on digital film, and you drop your head and scream, muffled by pillows while Soap gives in and comes inside you, throwing his head back, groaning at your ceiling, or God, maybe.

Either's as likely.

When he pulls out, there's a fleeting moment of silence interrupted only by the sound of synchronized heavy breathing. 

Soap bends forward again, this time grabbing your shoulders and pulling you up and against his chest, knocking your legs apart with his hand so the camera can focus on his cum leaking out of you, dripping thick and slow for the benefit of your future audience. He turns your face by your chin, pressing his mouth to yours, further flooding your senses. When his tongue traces over yours, you can literally feel you and Johnny pass the point of no return. 

“Turn it off.” Soap nods to the phone again, and you have to shake your head twice and kiss him three times before you feel cognizant enough to understand what he’s asking. You can’t stop yourself from smiling facetiously into the tiny lens before you end the recording. 

“Give it here.” 

You pass him the phone, staring at the lock screen, a half decade old photo of you and Soap in a matching halloween costume, Johnny dressed like an angel and you his complicit devil, your arms wrapped around each other. 

Leo had hated it.

“Aaaaand send.” Soap sing-songs, tapping at the screen of your phone a few times before he chucks the device to the floor, ignoring your indignant yelp of protest. “How long do you think we have before he opens it?” 

“Long enough for you to eat me out?” You flop back on your bed, propped up on your bent elbows. 

“Then we’d best get started.”

Soap barely gets the chance to touch his tongue to your clit when your phone starts to buzz furiously.

god i hope this anon sees this, i started working on it the day they requested it but totally forgot it was FOR someone and got stuck in my perfectionist k-hole.

support city girls with spit kinks, reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

[elysianightsss]

RUN FROM ME DARLIN, YOU BETTER RUN FOR YOUR LIFE | MASTERLIST

Pairing | Poly!141 x Black Widow Reader

Summary | You show up on base to give your sister, Kate Laswell, some information and then leave. That was your plan anyway, but you miss the helicopter ride home and weirdly there isn’t another one again for weeks. While you’re stuck there, your sister’s team gets a little too attached to you and suddenly they’re everywhere you look. Like they’re waiting for you. So you do the only thing you can; run and hide.

Tags | Dark themes, possessive 141, stalking, kidnapping, murder, smut, the guys being down right sickening on their level of want, special guest character, reader has a sad past, child neglect, reader becomes a killer as a child, fighting, blood, mentions of torture, mentions of a hysterectomy not reader, alcohol, drugs (chloroform).

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Fin

Divider credit - @cafekitsune

Tags | @fruitymoonbeams-blog @gazsluckyhat @daydreamsareallineed @riawritesstories @goatgoesmbe

[corpsypher]

Soap used to be a porn addict. Just so you know.

He stopped when you first met, because he couldn't watch porn and think about you accurately. So then he stopped watching it all together and just relied on his filthy imagination.

He never thought of it as a problem, it was a thing since his teenage years, he just assumed all guys were like that.

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

At first playing the new black ops I thought it was kind of out of character the way adler was behaving. He has been quite goofy and light hearted and then I realised it actually makes perfect sense. Nearly every interaction adler had in Cold War was through bells eyes. To adler, bell is the enemy. Of course he was naturally serious and kind of blunt with bell, he knows what bell is, and he doesn’t like them. But in black ops 6, adler is surrounded by those he considers allies. It kind of hurt tbh because it just makes the ‘betrayal’ of Cold War hit so much harder. Bell never saw the true adler because they were an outsider. They didn’t know that of course, but adler did which is why he kept his distance emotionally 🤧

I like to think that in some weird, fucked up way, adler did start to like bell and develop a soft spot for them, but he remained wary, and life just worked against them

[etclouie-masterlists]

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 kinktober masterlist

ཐི♡ཋྀ welcome to my first kinktober, i’m lowk really nervous for this, so be kind please. please read all the warnings posted on each fic, they're all listed, and if anythings missing lmk! all works are fem reader

ཐི♡ཋྀ prompts used from this post, full credit to them for all prompts used

ཐི♡ཋྀ all work on @etclouie and can be found under #ᯓ⭒ louie’s kinktober ’24 .ᐟ

ཐི♡ཋྀ candy divider used in each post is by @strangergraphics

go to main masterlist?

day one; overstimulation - Glenn Rhee

day two; praise kink - Alex Keller

day three; car sex - Abraham Ford

day four; creampie - Soap MacTavish

day five; begging - Shane Walsh

day six; cockwarming - Sirius Black

day seven; size kink - Simon Riley

day eight; jealousy - Rick Grimes

day nine; breeding kink - Oscar 'Spooky' Diaz

day ten; dirty talk - Shane Walsh

day eleven; choking - Negan Smith

day twelve; oral sex - Juice Ortiz

day thirteen; mirror sex - Soap MacTavish

day fourteen; thigh riding - Spencer Reid

day fifteen; first time - Chibs Telford

day sixteen; shower sex - Derek Morgan

day seventeen; office sex - Aaron Hotchner

day eighteen; late night sex - Jax Teller

day nineteen; outdoor sex - Daryl Dixon

day twenty; sugar daddy - John Price

day twenty-one; one night stand - James Potter

day twenty-two; sex on film - Kyle Garrick

day twenty-three; pillow talk - Jax Teller

day twenty-four; mask sex - Simon Riley

day twenty-five; uniform sex - Shane Walsh and Rick Grimes

day twenty-six; nudes - Chibs Telford

day twenty-seven; spanking - Negan Smith

day twenty-eight; early morning sex - Daryl Dixon

day twenty-nine; secret relationship sex - Merle Dixon

day thirty; handcuffs - Luke Alvez

day thirty-one; friends with benefits - Jax Teller

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[cielosafeplace]

poly! 141 x ex black widow! reader imagine the day that reader (ex black widow) goes to the movies to see barbie and comes home crying totally inconsolable, and the boys are totally worried about her without knowing anything about what could have happened to her.

after several hours she falls asleep and the boys start to wonder what could have happened to her

then the fact is not touched on anymore and months later they put the movie on one of the digital platforms on movie night and she cries again but not as much and when the movie ends she says

"I would have liked to be a little girl, one who plays dolls with her friends. I would have liked to be the girl they didn't let me be"

[thatanonymouschocolate]

Made this a while ago don’t remember if I posted it on here or not but here

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Hard Dom!Johnny Soap McTavish x Reader

Title: Tap out

Synopsis: You tap out, and Johnny takes care of you.

Warnings: Smut, safewords, overstim. It's hard dom.

AN: OMG this was one of the first fics I wrote for COD and about Johnny, so it's kinda special to me haha

The way he's off you like a repelled magnet as soon as you tap his wrist twice.

Johnny is having fun, choking you out with you laying down beside him--he's kneeling, merely shirtless. There's sweat running down that dimpled face and he's smirking, one hand on your collar bone, pushing in deep enough that you can feel it pool arousal in your tummy, your hand squeezing his arm as you ride waves of pleasure from his thumb circling your clit.

Tears are flowing down your cheeks from the overstimulation, anytime you feel like you're about to finish he stops and tuts, stopping his movements to ride it out further.

Then it's starting to get to be too much, from how he's forcing you down onto the bed. Your eyes look back up at his, all meek compared to the confidence he oozes.

Then your two fingers tap his wrist twice and it's the way Johnny practically flies across the room, hands in the air and off of you. You start to pant, trying to catch your breath and then he grows worried.

"Bonnie.." he mutters, walking to your side, tilting your head up, "wha' can I do fer ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel tears form, but this time from feeling so overwhelmed. That's when he rushes out of the room, leaving you alone.

He comes back after a second, rushing in with water and a towel. He puts the bottle of water up to your lips, urging you to drink some. When does Johnny EVER want you upset?

"C'mon, Bonnie.. donnae cry.." he mutters, covering your lower half with the blanket and sitting down beside you. You try to calm down, his thoughts reeling with how wrong he feels.

He mutters something in Scottish under his breath, likely a curse onto himself, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to his chest. Johnny lays your head down into him, "I's okay.. I'm sorrae I wen' so rough.." he coos, petting your hair.

You start to calm down and you shake your head, explaining that it wasn't his fault but he shushes you, kissing your forehead.

"C'mon.. bonnie, I was the one'n control. I had ye held don'. I' was me."

He kisses your head again, "Do ye need yer clothes? Are ye okay?"

When you shake your head and start to get up he pushes you right back down, tutting. He gets up off the bed and bends over, grabbing the shirt he was wearing, then tossing it to you. You give the faintest smile and start to pull yourself through it, and he's in your underwear drawer, finding you a pair of underwear.

He balls it up and tosses the pair to you, turning around to let you put it on.

"Do ye need a bat' firs', acth'ly?" He asks, hands behind his head as he waits for you to finish putting on your underwear.

"No.. 'm good," you respond, and he lets out a little sigh. You stand up, finished changing and he turns around, crossing his arms.

"Do ye need a bat'?" Johnny repeats, unimpressed by your original response.

You sigh and give up, "Fine... I'll take a bath." He walks to you, opening his arms, but hesitating, "Can I pick ye up, bonnie?" You give a tiny nod, closing the distance and wrapping your arms around his neck. He lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

He carries you to the washroom, and sets you on the counter to start your bath up.

"You wan' me in it, hen? Or no?" He asks, turning his head to look at you.

You think for a moment before nodding, taking a big deep breath. You take your clothes back off, and he sets them aside for you to put on when you're out.

He wraps his arms around you, lowering you down into the tub before getting undressed and getting into the tub with you.

He works carefully, lathering your hair with shampoo and cooing to you in Scottish Gaelic and English.

For a man with no reserve, who's a firecracker and a harddom, he really knows his aftercare.

[lxvvie]

Y'all know that whole trend that was going around social media with women calling their significant other by their full name? Yeah, that one. Yet another conversation was had, this time it was about the reactions your favorite babygurls would have if you called them by their full government name because of reasons. Maybe.

Capt. John Price - He's, uh, startled but not enough to drop his cigar this time. Does take a puff of it, though, before addressing you like it's the calm before the storm. Isn't too fazed because he heard it enough from his own mom growing up and he figures he's suave and diplomatic enough to placate you.

Gaz - Pointedly ignores you while giving you side glances here and there which is a major indicator that he's gotten into some shit. Probably. More than likely. Yeah... it was Soap's fault.

Alex Keller - Actually did get into some shit. Does not answer the call of duty.

Soap - You hear 'ah, shit', heavy footsteps, probably a crash, and Soap's peeking his head out from the other room. Has a deer-in-headlights look about him. It was Gaz's fault, goddamnit. He's so adorable. It's enough to make you giggle.

Ghost - You get a grunt. And then it hits him. He stops doing whatever it is he's doing. Fuck, he knows that tone. Simon turns to look at you and he stares into your soul or something like that. What in the hell kind of made-up middle name is that? You spend the better part of a good minute staring each other down before you're all, "I love you ♥️," and Ghost groans and rolls his eyes and goes back to whatever it was he was doing. But not before he grunts out a "Love ya, too." in return.

Alejandro - This is one of the few things that'll actually faze the man. Will damn near break his neck turning to face you to see what's wrong and his eyes will be wide. Oh, the last time he heard his full name called like that was from his beloved grandmother and he'd gotten into some shit then, okay?

Rudy - Ducks his head. Doesn't show his face; he can't bear the sternness of your voice, your gaze. It wasn't him this time, he swears; it remains, though, the way you say his name, an echo in his mind: Ro-DOL-fo. Why'd you have the emphasize THAT part of his name, huh?

König - König.exe stops working. Actually does break something trying to get to you. His eyes are fucking saucers, okay? Oh shit, what did he do this time, Schatz? Are you getting him back after that one time he snuck up on you to surprise you and you dropped dinner? Did you find out about the time he accidentally messed up the laundry and the white clothes came out pink? WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO DO FIX THIS?! Oh, you... just needed him to grab something off the top shelf for you.

Horangi - Also did some shit. Is unapologetic about it. Hits you with a nonchalant, "Yeah?"

Graves - STAYS IN SOME SHIT, OKAY? Saunters in like the smug bastard he is. Smirks and winks at you. "Haven't heard that name in a while, darlin'. What's your fancy?"

Valeria - Pulls a Uno Reverse and calls you by your full government name. Wait―

[onlychonn]

me..? Oh nothing.. just thinking about a fluffy dutch/german farmer x earthyblack!reader headcanons(?). 18+, mdni

masterlist

• Mr. teddy bear who would get his beautiful wife anything she yearned for. Doesn't matter if it's new crystals, new clothes, even another cattle if she asked.

• Mr. teddy bear who loves his farm animals almost as much as his gorgeous Gattin.

• Mr. teddy bear who would break an arm and a leg just to please his delicious woman, cumming in his overalls as he thunk about it whilst gathering the goats.

• Mr. Teddy bear who... shii.. just mr teddy bear 😭.

• Mr. Teddy bear who approached first, offering a warm scented perfume to her, whom he thought smelled awfully like cocoa butter and incense.

• Mr. Teddy bear who would lasso the planets if !reader asked.

• Mr. Teddy bear welcoming !reader home as he finished cooking up a warm meal, awaiting her arrival.

• Mr. Teddy bear who enjoys pleasuring his woman more than himself, grinding against the cool colored sheets of their shared bed as she cradled the back of his head, arching as she brought him closer.

• Mr. teddy bear who tries his best to do everything that his precious vrouw brings up. You mentioned something about your craving for chocolate covered strawberries whilst menstruating, and when you were gone out to feed the pigs n' chickens, picking up their eggs, he had searched and searched for instructions or even a recipe to make the chocolate covered fruit for you quickly.

• Mr. Teddy bear who was surprised he'd be your first, hearing you whimper and moan under him was a surprise aswell! I guess he didn't know you'd adjust as fast as you two started.

• Mr. Teddy bear who tried the best to take care of everything around him. Feeding the animals, taking care of you inside of the bedroom and out..

Dictionary: "Gattin"

German for mate [noun] a husband or wife (preferably wife here).

"vrouw"

Dutch for a woman; wife; or lady.

honestly, imagine who you want. If you do just ignore the description of "Mr teddy bear" at the top 😭 (hes just my personal description of my OC). Tell me if you guys would want more if you see this!!! luv yuuuuu so muches!! 💋 (Give ideas or I'll bite you).

[elysianightsss]

RUN FROM ME DARLIN, YOU BETTER RUN FOR YOUR LIFE | PART ONE

Rejection. Open and hollow, stinging like a cat scratch, it’s monumental and abstract and it’s everything you never knew you wanted. Being rejected put you in this position, you could say it made you vulnerable but with the way his rough calloused hands manoeuvred over your skin, you could say it was worth it.

The way his half mast cerulean eyes rake over you, a prize to be earned. Something he’s going to win, not that he knows that yet. You’ll make him work for it, that much he does know though.

You’re deep in the infatuation of it even if you wish that’s not true. You relish in the feeling of his gaze on you, soft but yet somehow cold and distant. It sparks the interest you thought long gone. Dead and buried. The ends of it frayed like the neurons of your brain. Unravelled and worn at the edges.

Something dark and deceitful urges you to step forward, tempting you with the musky aroma of him. Something you’d like to devour whole if you could. The faint redolence of cigar smoke hung on his clothes.

He licked his thin chapped lips imagining the way his tongue would slide over your supple skin and despite the dull gnawing of insecurity that has grown since adolescence, you can imagine it too. His willpower hedging with every moment that slowly passes by, every moment that agonisingly ticks by.

The sweet decadence of your pulsing cunt lingers in the cold air, your nipples pebbling beneath your cotton night gown. He breathes in deep, harsh. A hint of mania colouring his grin as he groans at the smell of you, the scent you’re exposing yourself to him with. A poor little bunny trapped in the lions den….

Then he’s leaning in, parted lips inches from his. The thick beard on his face prickling against the skin of your chin. His breath mixing with yours, heat and desperation so present in the air. It hangs heavily around you, makes your knees weak.

Then his lips are moving, but nothing is coming out. He’s talking but it’s quite literally falling on deaf ears. You can’t hear a word he is saying. You frown, pulling away when a loud, obnoxious roar starts pestering you. It’s weaving its way behind your eyes, mixing with the light that doesn’t go no matter how hard you squeeze your eyes.

You’re soon fluttering them open, groggy and just the perfect amount of warm, you don’t want to move a muscle. You’re weak in a good way. In that, the duvet is heavy but not too heavy, you’re warm but not burning and if you pulled your curtains back into place so the moonlight wasn’t streaking through you’d fall right back to sleep.

That is if the thunder outside wasn’t annoyingly loud keeping you awake. Closing your eyes for a moment, you take a breath before sitting up not at all ready to start the day, especially not at four am in the morning but with the loudness outside you wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon, so at least getting out of bed would be a start.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you comb through your wardrobe looking for something to throw over your pyjamas as a chill seeps into your bones, teeth beginning to chatter just as you pull on a soft, knitted sweater. You’re all long sighs, slow blinking and yawning every few minutes like you hadn’t just slept eight hours straight.

You feel out of it as you slide the sweater over your head, you’re practically falling back to sleep with your head resting on your arched knee while you pull on a pair of socks. It feels as though you hadn’t even slept a second when you’re pouring the milk into your tea, eyes all blurry and head starting to ache.

Your hands pause mid grabbing a spoon from your kitchen drawer, the dream. The vivid dream. The very real feeling of his rough calloused hands grazing over your skin, you can almost still feel the ghost of it on your arms. It makes you shiver. But you try to forget and by the time the sun comes up and a fog rolls in your successful.

October came in with golden days and silver nights, foggy mornings and coffee iced. It soothed your soul to see the harvest moon in the sky at night, brightened your heart when you spotted all the pumpkin patch picking signs dotted around town.

Town, you barely frequent it. If feels like a ghost town, hollow and not at all lived in. It’s more than an hour away from the cottage you were living in but there are these rare moments when you long for civilisation, so you put up with the drive there. Say hello to a few locals, grab some more food to stock your pantry with and leave feeling a little bit more socially charged than before.

This was one of those times. You smiled at the pumpkin patch and Halloween bash signs on the town events board. Hands full of bags after doing some food shopping. You even treated yourself to a new heavy weighted blanket, half off and so soft.

“Looks fun doesn’t it?” You jump, unnaturally on edge which the guy who spoke seems to notice. “Sorry, I come in peace I promise.” He smiles softly at you, American you noted, up here in the highlands. It makes your back tense and your shoulders stiff, a nervousness settling into your skin like a tattoo.

“It’s okay. I’m just a jumpy person.” You lie smoothly. You weren’t jumpy by far. You were highly trained not to be, but that had all changed after them. Maybe you were a little jumpy now.

“So you gonna go?” He asks and it makes your frown, you were so lost in thought about the monsters under your bed that you think you missed something. Then he points to the Halloween bash poster stapled to the board. His brown hair blowing in the cold breeze as he looks at you.

“Oh! No, not really my thing.” Another lie. You loved a good party, the dresses, the drinks, the dancing. You would love to go to one again, when you could be carefree enough to know you’re not being watched and no one was after you.

“So what is your thing?” He asks with a small smile, teeth showing and tender eyes. He didn’t look like a threat but you can never be too careful these days.

“I don’t know knitting.” You say outright before walking away but he follows you, you really don’t want to be rude to a local, maybe just this once if he doesn’t leave you alone? But it would draw attention to you, create whispers about you, the very thing you don’t want.

“Just knitting? You don’t have any other hobbies?” Interested or intel? You weren’t sure at this moment and maybe you’d never be sure again. You thought they were just interested and yet here you were hiding from them.

“Reading.” You don’t stop walking away from him, even hitting him with a ‘nice to meet you’ over your shoulder. He seems to get the message and stops following you. You keep looking back to make sure he goes away and he does, back to the town board thankfully giving you enough time to slip through the back alley of the store where you parked your jeep.

You load up the boot and get strapped in before you start driving off. You wouldn’t be coming back for a bit longer than usual, you didn’t want to create a pattern. Patterns are easy to track. You needed to be unusual. You do your regular checks, gun in one hand, knife in the other as you enter the cottage.

You were with them for months you know how they work and how they fight. You’re an outstanding tracker, they had noted. You would know if they were here and how to escape them. Thankfully it didn’t come to that. The place was clear. You really needed to get a dog or something.

You unpacked the bags and parked the car around the back hiding it under some waterproof tarpaulin. After putting all the food away, you made pasta for dinner and got cosy under the new blanket while you watched the next episode of Gilmore Girls.

This was what you did now, binged watched tv shows and movies you never had time to watch growing up. Who could blame you, when other girls were watching these shows and fawning over two vampire brothers and a human girl, you were fighting other unlucky girls and learning how to build bombs, resist poison and how to kill.

You were always jealous that Kate hadn’t been put in the red room by your parents like you had. She was their favourite you knew that, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she knew it too.

8 months ago ~

Your leg bounced as you sat in your designated seat on the Boeing CH-47 Chinook, new by the looks of it. You weren’t anxious, not that you’d admit it even if you were, you just know what happens every time you see Kate; all the feelings that come up that you’d rather not deal with. All the hurt you’ve tried desperately to avoid. It was all going to come rushing back, you just know it.

The helicopter landed and the ramp door opened, you moved from the main cabin following all the other passengers off the tandem-rotor helicopter. The sky was cloudy and atmosphere cold. It made you miss the heat of Malta, the sunbeds and cocktails but then again that’s how this whole mess got started.

A squad in camouflage gear were doing drills just off to your right, a couple of other teams were either coming back from missions or just heading out for them. Then you spotted her, Kate Laswell and her precious little 141. You practically spat the words in your head.

Slinging your duffle bag strap over your shoulder you stalked towards the group of five, past the soldiers jogging in a pack following a drill sergeant with a particularly loud mouth. You pushed though the crowds and descended on your target. Just as you reached her, she turned ready to walk inside the base only to find you blocking her path.

Kate gasped out your name, eyes wide with shock and body frozen. The reaction made you smirk, giving you a sick sense of pride for eliciting such a reaction from her.

“Hello sister.” The Russian accent swirling around your words was thick.

Kate stutters in her words not knowing what to say back to you other than an uneasy, “What are you doing here?”

“Well that’s not very nice to say to a family member who just flew 7 hours just to come see you.” You scoff looking her up and down with distaste.

“Wh-Why would you do that?” She cringes at how scared she sounds.

“I have some information for you, a mission too if you’re interested. All I know is I want nothing to do with it. This is something the military should deal with, not me.” You huff, eyes drifting to the bulky men stood behind her just by the four by four car.

“We should talk inside.” She says holding her hand out in the direction she wishes for you to go.

“You first.” You narrow your eyes, distrust burning in them. She nods and gestures for her team to follow.

You slam the haul of around thirteen red vials on top the table once you’re inside the debriefing room. Price and Ghost take a seat at the table to the left of where you stand, Soap and Gaz choose to stay standing by them. Kate rounding the table opposite you.

“It’s a chemical agent. The red dust is a gas used to free mind controlled victims from their subjugation. Dreykov has been trying to destroy it. One of the freed windows sent it to me and was killed for it too.” You stare at your estranged sister as she hangs on your every word, frown full of worry.

“What is a widow?” The man who was introduced to you as Soap MacTavish, while you walked inside the barracks, asks sounding genuinely confused. You scoff letting out a little laugh afterwards.

“God no wonder.” You shake your head the smile still on your lips but there was only anger on your face, “I kept checking in with my contacts to see if the famous Kate Laswell had taken down the red room for another one of those amazing promotions. But nothing.”

Kate looked speechless, unable to form any words without making the situation worse. Without pumping more hate into you, like that was even possible. The way you looked at her, like if she said one wrong thing you’d grab the knife in your thigh holster and throw it right between her eyes.

You turn to the four large men to the left of you, “A widow is a kidnapped girl who is brutally trained to become an assassin. The Red Room is the name of the place we are kept. The Black Widow program is one of the KGB’s espionage training programmes run by a man called Dreykov.” You explain, taking in their faces. They don’t look horrified but definitely suprised.

“Maybe one in twenty survives the training and becomes a window. The rest he kills. To him we are just things.” Your fists tighten, a dark look growing upon your face that makes even Ghost shift in his seat. “Weapons with no faces that he can just throw away because there is always more.” Your upper lip curls with disgust and for a moment Gaz thinks you’re going to let out a snarl. “He sees us as trash that is thrown away and he is simply recycling us.”

“Is this…” Kate takes a breath, short and shaky. The team thinks it’s the first time they’ve seen her waver, first time she looks unsure before speaking, gesturing towards the red vials “Is that what they did to you?” She looks at you through her lashes, her face pained.

“No. What I experienced was physiological conditioning for years.” You ignore the sharp inhale you hear to the left of you and keep talking,“I’m talking about chemically altering brain functions. They’re two completely different things.”

“You’re fully conscious but you don’t know which part is you,” you look down at the red chemical vials, “I’m still not sure.” Price takes in the lost look on your face, the frown that pulls your eyebrows so tight together it must hurt. He’s seen it before, in Simon’s eyes. “They could ask you to stop breathing and you’d have no choice but to obey.”

“Let my team do what they do best.” You raise an eyebrow in question. “Let them destroy this place and kill the man in charge.” Kate reaches for your hand but you’re quick to pull away as if her touch is furiously hot and would burn you. She feels her heart ache, missing the days you used to call her Katie and cling to her touch with nothing but happiness behind your eyes. Now there is nothing but bitter darkness.

“Even though the red room is impossible to find and Dreykov is too slippery to kill?” You scoff, leaning back from the table and crossing your arms defensively in front of your chest.

“It’s what we do lass.” MacTavish gives you a little smile, almost trying reassure you that they could do it. That they could slay your demon.

“That sounds like a shitload of work.” Price barks out a laugh at your words.

“Maybe so. But it would save a lot of girls in the future.” Gaz countered, looking serious.

“Good luck fighting them. We’re trained specifically to copy our opponent’s fight style. Don’t underestimate them.” You try to warn them as best you can but you can see the cocky pride in them after winning the majority of their battles.

“I think we can handle them, you too.” Ghost declared with an air of amusement and a slight warning, one he’s wanted to say since you showed up. Your face drops, becoming void of all emotion as you lean forward, pressing your palms flat to the cold table. You lean in close to Ghost, eyes darkening as you do so.

“I was selected by a program that assessed the genetic potential in infants. A bargain was struck and they paid my parents off. They were more than happy to get rid of me in exchange for the cash.” You glance at Kate who has tears in her eyes, her sadness makes you glare, whipping your head back to the skull.

“I went on to become the greatest child assassin the world has ever know. Six hundred and seventy one confirmed kills by the time I was fifteen.” Ghost adjusts himself in his seat, moving back a bit and double checking to make sure his mask was on properly. Hiding his true feelings from the feral little thing in front of him. The way you stared at him, he felt like you could see right through him.

“They were so proud that no one could match my efficiency and ruthlessness. That’s the only reason they didn’t rip out my uterus and ovaries like they did to the other girls. Your pretty mask doesn’t scare me. Whatever nightmares you could conjure up, are dreams compared to what’s behind me.” You scowl, glowering at the man in front of you. He shifts once again, uncomfortable. The sight of this big man fidgeting under your gaze has a smirk crawling onto your face once again while you move back.

“I’m so sorry.” Kate chokes out, tears streaming down her cheeks now. “I didn’t know that-“

“Oh please.” You cut her off, “you must of known. That’s why you were more than okay to let our parents use me for that pathetic mission that earned you the promotion to your current position.” You spat before pointing to the vials.

Before Kate could refuse anything you cut her off, “Do what you want. It’s not my concern anymore, I have to leave now or I’ll miss the heli out of here. There won’t be another for a week and I’d rather not spend all that time with the five of you.” You go to turn but it’s a hand reaching for your shoulder that stops you.

The hand doesn’t even touch you before you’re reaching for it yourself, bending it once you’ve grabbed hold. You use your grip on the wrist to spin behind the person, twisting their arm behind their back and holding it there as you kick their legs swiftly. They fall to the ground, staring back up at you in surprise.

The chairs groaning against the floor fall on deaf ears, you’re still on edge, like a caged animal finally been let out and ready to fight anything that looks even remotely like a threat. Soap helps Gaz off the floor, ocean eyes never leaving you as he does so.

“I’m sorry that was stupid of me.” Kyle is quick to apologize though he isn’t quite sure why. Is it because his heart ached so much when you shared your painful story so casually just to shut Ghost up? Is it because he found you drop dead gorgeous? He’s not sure. All he knows is he wants to wrap you in his arms and never let the world touch you again, it had done so much damage to you already.

You breath in and out deep, slow. Calming yourself in the way you taught yourself. Meditation was one of the first things you learnt after you escaped the red room, it was either that or attack anyone who looked at you the wrong way.

You grab your duffle bag, with one last glance at Kate and the red vials still on the table, you left.

To be continued…

[corpsypher]

|| Gymrat!Soap x Fat!Reader ||

Fat!reader that hates gyms (not exercising), hates the judging face staring back at her from the floor to ceiling mirror.  Fat!reader that pushes out of her comfort zone to fulfill the needs of her body, and her New Year's resolutions (even if the first trimester of the year is already over).  Fat!reader who finds the perfect female instructor, a personal trainer that knows what it feels like to be inside a big body and understands her goals.  Fat!reader that after a few weeks forces herself to get used to the 10am crowd, and to not feel as self-conscious about wearing tight sportswear out in public.  Fat!reader who's so skilled in avoiding people's eyes on her, accustomed to expecting the worst, that doesn't notice the lustful gaze of a gymrat.  Fat!reader who's had the help of a handsome Scottish man spotting her when her coach was called to the front desk. Felt his groin subtly brush against her ass, but dismissed it as an accident because she takes up more space than most people are used to.  Fat!reader that's completely oblivious to the fact the buff highlander with the ridiculous Mohawk, and icy blue eyes has synced his routine to match hers strategically.  Like when she does her cardio (jogging on the treadmill or climbing the stairmaster), he is always by the weights, dead-lifting her exact body weight while looking at her jiggling and bouncing, making him salivate.  Or when she's stretching at the end of a session, doing all kinds of poses that make her groan and moan because of the ache in her muscles. He's close by the benches, hip thrusting several heavy disks, sweating and cursing under his breath. Fat!reader who is unaware of the warnings the staff have issued to him, for public indecency. Making him switch from using his usual gray sweatpants to black loose workout shorts.  Fat!reader that didn't think a guy as jacked as Johnny could be so friendly, and sweet to a girl like her. After speaking a few times, they became spotting buddies, and they do cardio together. Just not the one that he wants… yet.   She has no clue that he's now obsessed with the sound of her labored breathing, along with the rhythmic thud of her feet hitting the mat of the treadmill, and the choked groans she sometimes lets out while lifting. He can't stay away. Fat!reader who hits the 8-week mark of consistent attendance, and is frustrated to see the scale stay practically the same, her measurements are not different either. Even with the help of the dieting shakes Johnny recommended.  The silver lining is her new-found stamina, she feels stronger and with more confidence all while looking the same, she's content with the routine. But that doesn't last.  Her trainer is no longer available to work with her, and the gym assigns her someone else while they find a substitute. And he is not friendly at all. 

I just love pervert-with-a-plan johnny, who wants to fuck an unsuspecting bae. And then you have someone showing up and pissing all over his plans...

[partiallysame]

Your work is scrumptious, delicious, mouth watering, melts in your mouth, amazing. If I could inject it into myself I would.

I’m not sure if you write for black/mixed reader, but if you do I need to know. How would the boys react to finding out how long it takes to get braids in/take out? Reader usually gets it done while they are gone, but getting new braids/taking them out couldn’t wait this time. 🥺 (Currently taking mine out, and it’s taking forever and a half.)

Would they help their little missus? Or would they try to help but having 4 men trying to take out tiny braids just cause more problems?

Yes yes yes ok john knew it took foreverrrr and you had taught him how to take them out (he’s even attempted helping put them in) when you first started dating and now it’s time for the rest of the 141 to experience the ordeal that is braiding. Let me tell you the panic that set in when they walked in on you cutting out the extra before unbraiding. Thought you were pulling a Brittany circa 2007. Don’t worry babes just making it easier to unbraid. John immediately asks if you need anything to which a joking “help would be nice” came out and suddenly they’re all sat. 30 sec in and Johnny is asking if you can just cut them out all the way. He is now on snack duty. Bringing you whatever you request. Kyle thought he was gonna be so good at this, he knows how to do this right? No. He’s convinced his brain disconnected from him fingers. Spend the whole time you’re there working on one braid. John gets a handful of them done but Simon? You give a sniper a task in which he sits in one spot and focuses on one thing for hours at a time? He’s living the dream. Fingers moving almost as fast as yours. You referred to the two of you as “the dream team” and it hurt everyone else’s feelings. Oh well that’s on them for not being better