#johnny soap mactavish x you

[reveluving]

Ok, so Soap and shy wife. We all know he's the definition of sunshine/happy puppy and has the energy of an entire class of kindengarden. Imagine when they first meet the couple and he's all loud and jolly, and wife quietly shakes their hand and says "Nice to meet you" and he INSTANTLY quiets, because he's proud of his Darling to meet his friends/family, also because they're all wondering how she puts up with him🤣❤

LOSING MY MIND AT "they're all wondering how she puts up with him" BECAUSE THAT IS BASICALLY THEIR DYNAMIC 🤧💗💗

Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

You just know this man does not shut up about you every time he meets up with his team for work. 

And then, one day, he surprises them with a “she’d love y’all to come over one day.”

“Didn’t you say she’s a lil’ shy?” Kyle voiced out everyone’s thoughts, so to be offered not by the man himself but the meek lady in question was a little surprising, to say the least.

“She is, yeah, but she’s open t’meeting a few pals o’mine.” Johnny meant it to sound casual, but with his mates knowing him for a long time, it wasn’t hard to catch the hint of care in his voice.

And, well, it would be rude to decline a lady’s generous offer, now, would it?

Johnny’s hyped, no doubt, his friends—no, brothers, and his other half finally meeting in person. They didn’t even have to ask, just by the way he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel or the way he hummed to the radio, likely a playlist the two of you shared.

And with the boys holding some sort of gift for you, just as a thank you for the invite, you greet them by the door as soon as your husband announces his and his friends’ arrival. 

With Simon physically being the closest to you, you wiped your hands on your apron before holding your hand out. Simon nearly struggled with his strength, not expecting your lack of hesitation to greet him, out of all of them.

You introduced yourself, “It’s nice to finally meet you guys.”

Ah, such a sweet voice. So sweet that had Johnny not gone on and on about your shyness, they would’ve thought you were scared of them. But, you weren’t and the proud smile on Johnny’s face says it all. 

Why wouldn’t he? With your warm smile and even willingness to shake Kyle and John’s hands as well. Albeit, you had a habit of looking down every once in a while, especially if they tried to show their respect, i.e. complimenting your cooking, the decor or you in general, it was hard not to find you endearing.

But God knows how you, of all people, manage to put up with his nonsense. 

In the words of Johnny; “Opposites attract, after all.”

And seeing it now, to say Johnny was whipped…. Was putting it lightly.

It’s funny to see Johnny trying his best when it comes to lowering his gruff voice for you, even if you loved it just the way it is.

Though he has a lot of things to tell you, so much love to give you, you have his full attention the moment your lips part.

Each time you open your mouth, he closes his. As if fearing that one word from him would mean talking over you entirely, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. The hearts in his eyes were tough to miss. He’s expressive, too, hanging on your every word like you were giving him a task when it was just you talking about how you learnt to make the lasagna you served for dinner.

‘SHUT UP, MY BABY HAS SOMETHING TO SAY’ type of beat, but it’s the man who’s saying it that has the loudest voice (and the gentlest heart).

But they’d be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy listening to the stories of how you met and how emo Johnny gets when the dates or outings don’t go his way, even though it all went well in the end.

Why wouldn’t they enjoy seeing his soul leave his body when you mentioned his baby pictures that his mother not only showed you but gave some to you as well?

“Johnny, c’mon, now, she’s a part of the family! She’ll need some photos o’you for when you move in together soon.” Says his mother, gifting you probably a stack of them, as if unfazed by the sight of you and Johnny covering your faces, the temperature of your body heat rising that even you feared you might pass out right then and there. He couldn’t even find the energy to stop his sisters from teasing him.

But besides allowing you to embarrass him a little, even if it wasn’t your intention, your home is another.

A small unit, located on the second floor. The candlelight colour, the cute indoor plants in each room, and the seats. 

Oh, the seats.

John nearly passed out just moments after he sat on it. 

Just by the way you maximized the apartment space, it’s no wonder Johnny always looked forward to returning home. Not necessarily the apartment, but to you. 

Dare they say, the visit felt like a ‘cultural reset’ (is that what the kids are saying these days?). Largely because one; they were able to finally confirm that Mrs MacTavish is a real person and two; one cannot simply ignore the dynamic you and Johnny have. It may be eye-roll-worthy to some, but Johnny learns it isn’t something worth fighting about. So long he has you, those people can yap and nag about it all they want. 

Bonus: John’s definitely the type of person to tell Laswell about it like it was some kind of a mission—like it was almost unbelievable to see you, well, you!

“M’tellin’ ya, Laswell. As soon as his wife had something t’say, he shuts up faster than when I tell him to.” He chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.

“Sounds like a keeper to me.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 8 - Cockwarming

Ghost x Soap x F!Reader - 1.6k

summary: Ghost keeps you on his lap while he watches a soccer game. (You POV)

cw: dom!ghost, subby soap & reader, cock warming, cunnilingus, overstimulation

“Simon,” you whine, sweat-slick back arching against his front as you strain for any sensation at all. “Please.”

“Hush,” he scolds, tweaking a stiff nipple and taking a swig of his beer. “‘M tryin’ to watch the game.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to take a deep breath, only to hiccup through the exhale when the cock impaling you shifts as Ghost spreads his thighs. 

You’ve been here for what feels like hours, but you know it’s only been about forty minutes, the steadily ticking clock at the top of the TV screen tells you just how slowly time passes when Simon holds you on his lap like this. 

Only five more minutes, you tell yourself, hopeful that he’ll fuck you at the halftime break, or at the very least let you have an orgasm. 

You feel more than hear him grunt behind you when you clench your inner walls around his length, your own eyes rolling back in your head at the overwhelming fullness. 

There’s a low whine from only a few feet away, and your eyes are unconsciously drawn over to where Johnny is kneeling beside the coffee table, naked and damp with sweat despite the fact that he’s been holding himself still just as long as you have, only without the cock inside of him.

Simon huffs, hooking his chin over your shoulder and leaning forward enough to see Johnny and – you assume, from the way Johnny shrinks a bit – glare him into further submission. “Quiet,” he stresses, irritated. “You’re distractin’ me.”

“But sir,” Johnny pushes, leaning closer with his hands clenched tight on his knees, knuckles white from pressure. “She looks so pretty, I need her so bad, please–”

Ghost doesn’t bother using his words, only grunts a harsh sound that has Johnny settling back onto his heels, looking properly chastised even as his flushed cock kicks against his stomach. You can’t help but moan as Ghost settles back again, every shift of him inside of you agonizing. 

One large hand rests against your stomach for the next few minutes, the callouses on Simon’s fingertips rough against your hypersensitive skin. He kneads your tummy mindlessly, pushing and pulling as he sips from his beer and grunts disapprovingly at the way his team plays. The repetitive motion calms you just enough that you can get a deep breath in, but nothing can distract you from the throbbing in your clit. 

It feels like another eternity has passed when the players all file off the field, the camera cutting away to commercial as the halftime break starts. You try to temper your enthusiasm as much as you can, but your heart races when you hear the sound of Simon setting his bottle on the coaster. 

“Alright,” he finally says, and it’s all you can do to keep from wriggling on his lap as he shifts to hold you more firmly in place. “Here, pup.”

Johnny practically throws himself forward, knees thudding loudly on the hardwood floor as he shoves himself between Ghost’s thighs, hands resting on your knees where they’re spread by Simon’s. 

Simon is quick to wrap his fingers in Johnny’s mohawk, holding him back from shoving himself face-first into the slick dripping steadily from you, and ignoring the heartbroken whine that ensues. 

“You gonna settle if I let you have a taste of the girl?” He grunts, shaking Johnny just a bit by the hair. You’re mesmerized by the way Johnny’s eyes cross, lashes damp and cheeks flushed as he pants beneath you. “Gonna start behavin’?”

“Yes, yes,” Johnny insists, nodding as much as he can. “Promise, sir, I can be good.”

Ghost snorts and scratches across Soap’s scalp, clearly disbelieving. “You better hope you can, otherwise you’re not gettin’ that pathetic thing between your legs anywhere near the girl until you prove you can behave yourself.”

You can’t tell if Johnny’s moan is heartbroken or horny when you nearly drown him out with your own cry at the cruel words. 

“I’ll be good,” Johnny insists, grip so tight on your knees that you’d worry he’d yank you out of your position if you were being held by anyone but Ghost. “Please, Lt, let me be good?”

“Hmm.” Ghost strokes over your belly and Soap’s hair at the same pace, careful to keep a firm enough grip that Johnny can’t move much more than he’s allowed. “Alright. You have ‘til the game’s back on.”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Johnny’s mouth is pressed against your cunt.

You cry out at the sharp burst of pleasure, at the relief of finally having something touching where you’re most sensitive, only to quickly melt into nothing but mewls and moans as you become overwhelmed. 

Johnny sucks your clit so hard that it’s almost painful, driving you to dig your nails into his scalp as you hold on for dear life. Simon wraps his arm fully around your waist, left hand holding your right hip tightly and his right hand keeping you open for Johnny no matter how much you struggle.

Your gasps are ripped from your chest as Johnny messily licks your cunt, Ghost’s chest rumbling against your back as he’s stroked by Soap’s tongue too. The sheer amount of sensation after so long with nothing almost blinds you, your entire world shrunk down to what can fit inside of you and what can rub against your clit in just the right way.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you gasp at a particularly rough suck of your clit. If you weren’t so mindless with pleasure you’d worry about just how hard your nails are scratching along his scalp, but the way he moans into your body wipes any hope of worry from your mind. “Johnny!”

“He treatin’ you well?” Ghost rumbles, pressing against your stomach. Any words you’d want to give him are stolen by the way he makes himself feel just that much larger inside of you, your hole so wet that you’re sure there’ll be a stain when you’re finally allowed to stand. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you hum, the only answer you can manage when Soap has taken to seemingly trying to suck the base of Ghost’s cock, only managing to lick around your hole instead. “So good,” you slur. 

“Sounds like it,” Ghost says, his patronizing amusement flying over your head as Johnny gives up on Simon’s cock and returns his full attention to your clit.

Your moans are driven higher and higher as you’re pushed closer to your long-awaited orgasm, your voice cracking as your feet kick helplessly against the couch, held firmly by Ghost. You couldn’t open your eyes if you tried, fingers digging deep gouges into Johnny’s hair and Simon’s forearm as you’re shoved towards your peak at a ruthless pace. 

You practically scream when Johnny just barely presses his teeth to your bundle of nerves, tongue lashing against you and throwing you off the cliff of release you’d been waiting on for so long. 

Ghost moans in sync with you as you milk his cock, squeezing him so tightly that it almost hurts you, hole stinging around his girth despite the juices coating all three of you. He doesn’t come, but the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you as your body does its best to coax cum from his nearly sends you spinning into a second orgasm. 

Johnny’s mouth doesn’t let up, even as your hold on him relaxes and your body goes limp against Simon. He only continues to lick at your clit, then around your pussy and trying to suck your lips into his mouth, licking you with a fervor that feels almost manic. 

“Johnny!” You gasp when he gives you just a momentary break, only to bite your thigh sharply enough that you jerk a few inches off of Ghost’s cock. 

“Down,” Simon snaps, shoving Johnny away from you with enough force to nearly send him sprawling. Johnny catches himself on the couch though, looking up at both of you with tears in his eyes and a cock that looks like it could cut diamond.

You coo a little, hand shaky as you reach out to cup the cheek Simon shoved. Ghost only scoffs over your shoulder, yanking you firmly back down so he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and nearly purring at your yelp. 

“Watch the teeth, mutt,” Ghost scolds as Johnny settles back between your thighs, pressing kisses to your soft skin as an apology. “Unless you want me to muzzle you again.”

“No!” Johnny yelps, wrapping an arm around your thigh and pressing himself as close as possible. “‘M sorry, sir, I didnae mean it, promise. I willnae do it again, swear.”

Ghost makes a low sound in his chest that sounds suspicious, but doesn’t push Johnny away or tell him off again. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he finally says, pushing a strand of hair back into place on Soap’s forehead. “Game’s not back for another ten minutes, you want to keep having fun with the girl or go back to your corner?”

“Wait–” you try to protest, but your voice is cut off when Johnny latches himself to your clit once again, sucking the oversensitive bundle like you aren’t still shaking from your last orgasm. You squeal at the pleasure-pain, body tense like a bowstring. “Please!”

“There you go,” Ghost purrs, resting his chin on your shoulder and squeezing your hip as your cunt spasms around him. “Attaboy, Johnny.”

Your brain practically melts out of your ears before you can string together enough words to beg for even a five minute break, but you can’t find it in yourself to be upset as Johnny practically catapults you towards another orgasm. 

[peachetteprice]

Slightly, I must admit, slightly obsessed with the idea of meeting Soap after a long reconnaissance and subsequent mission in a pub in Hereford, thinking he's a hunk of a man (possibly because he is) who happens to sip his beer like a slut and shoot you bedroom eyes despite barely even knowing your name.

Johnny, his name is. You learn it during the taxi ride back to his hotel, watching his cheeks become a fervent, dreamy red as you take him by the hem of his shirt and snog him like a woman crazed.

It isn't the first time you've chatted your way into a man's underwear, but it is the first time you're crumpled on your knees between his thighs as his hips push up into your abdomen, whining like a kicked puppy.

‘Take ‘em awf, lass,” he whimpers, gloss-eyed as you shove your palms beneath his shirt, ignoring the way his throat bobs, overflowing with saliva at the thought of you either going down on him, riding him until he cums, or a mixture of both, perhaps one after the other if he's fortuitous.

Yer a fucken’ tease, his head tips back as you rub the ball of your hand beside his pelvis, feeling his thighs flex under your hand.

Yer lucky I'm too tired to set ye straight, he moans as your fingers burrow into his boxers, thumb circling the perimeter of his weeping head.

Will ye let me ‘side yer mouth when I cum, yeah, bonnie? He begs, cheeks puffing with oxygen as you finally drag your tongue along his pulsing cock, travelling along a vein to reach the source of his desire, committing the sound of his stifled grunts as his thighs twitch, and his cock seeps warm cum onto your uvula, in case it's the last you'll ever hear of him.

| Masterlist |

[agentmarvel]

Can we have headcanons of fem!reader wife x 141 guys and how they each handle her leaving for girl’s night out in a really skimpy dress?

I think they’d all have hilarious reactions.😂

Omg yesssss

NSFW under the cut

MDNI - 18+

♡ Price:

Oh lord, that man is NOT letting you out of the house.

"Where ya think you're going in that?"

gets a little pissy when you remind him you have one girls night a month, and you have every right to wear whatever you want

"Doesn't mean you have the right to show anyone else what's mine, love."

will physically block the door with his whole body, knowing you won't be able to move him unless he allows it

he isn't mad - no, quite the opposite! it's taking every ounce of his self-restraint not to rip that damn thing in half and have his way with you right there on the foyer floor

"John, move. I don't want to be late!" - "Shame... You should've thought about that before you put on something you know damn well I can't resist."

he thinks it's cute when you argue with him, but you both know this ends up with your front pressed up against the door, panties pulled to the side, and his cock buried to the hilt inside you

after he cums, he pulls your panties back into place and gives you a harsh swat on the ass, not caring that your make up is a little smudged or that your legs are jello while he's giving you that smug look he wears so well

"Enjoy your night out, Mrs. Price. Hurry home."

♡ Gaz:

he's on you before you even walk out of the bathroom after you finish your hair

wraps his arms around your waist, puts his chin on your shoulder, tells you how pretty you look

"This dress new? Haven't seen it on the floor before."

ohhhhh, he is so down bad for you, even after as long as you've been together

makes it a point to grab a quick selfie bc he knows it's a solid confidence booster, and he wants you to feel as beautiful as you look

it doesn't really cross his mind that anyone would try anything on you - you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and he knows who you'll come home to; he knows who's bed you'll be in tonight, who's name you'll be calling in the dark

he even helps you pick the right shoes, even though you know he picks his favorite pair in hopes of seeing you in just those when you get home

ever the gentleman, he walks you out to your car, reminds you to drive safe, call him if you have too much to drink, etc.

he does, however, make it a point to send you some downright raunchy texts and a photo of his more... physical reaction, just in case you needed some motivation to come home a little early

when you get home (early), he's still riled up; he's too impatient to wait for you to make it upstairs, much less to unzip your dress for you, so you end up riding him on the landing until he's too tongue-tied to keep telling you how hot you look

♡ Soap:

you're not making it out of the house. Period.

the SECOND Johnny lays eyes on you, it's over

he's grabby as hell, digging his fingers into any part of you that he can - squeezing your ass, your hips, your thighs, tits, tummy, anything - while he navigates you to the nearest surface

"Yer so fuckin' pretty, baby. Never seen something so fuckin' perfect in my god damn life."

it doesn't matter if you end up on the couch, the kitchen counter, in the back yard; he's eating your pussy like a death row prisoner's last meal until you're crying, trying to wrench his head away with the hair tangled in your fist

he has your dress bunched up around your waist, straps pulled down so he can play with your nipples, but uses the whole garment as leverage while he fucks you stupid

you should've known better than to put a t-bone in front of a starving dog and expect it not to bite

"Go ahead, bonnie; text your little friends, tell them you're not gonna make it, yeah?"

♡ Ghost:

"'course, love. Have fun, be careful, call me if you need a ride."

Simon isn't too worried initially; he knows there isn't going to be a single soul in that bar willing or able to face his wrath should anything untoward happen. but then he actually sees what you're wearing, and all bets are off

that's why he follows you, he tells himself, it has nothing to do with the insatiable urge to destroy your ability to walk tomorrow

nothing trumps your safety, in terms of his priorities. he's simply here to look out for his wife, right?

wrong. he spends the next hour and a half watching you from a darkened corner of the bar while his palms itch with a need to touch

opportunity knocks when you excuse yourself from the table, and he follows you into the restroom, slipping in before you have a chance to lock the door

you're not surprised to see him (duh, you know him better than just about anyone), but you are surprised to find yourself bent over the sink, looking Simon in the eye through his reflection. he's fucking you mercilessly, spewing absolute filth while he pulls your head back by your hair

"My perfect little whore, hmm? Waltzing around in that tiny dress, wearing my fuckin' ring, rubbin' it in everyone's faces that you only open those pretty legs for me."

he wants to cum on your face, but you pout about the possibility of it getting in your eye, or worse, on your dress, so he settles for letting you swallow it instead

his impulses return not much longer after you return to your table; instead, he texts you that he's ready to head out, and you are all too quick to oblige

[writersdrug]

In regards to FirefighterSoap x LibrarianReader, How would you see their first official meeting in the hospital? Maybe he brings her flowers abs a balloon? I can imagine him being awkward at first.

He's thinking "heh, just a quick 'hello, you still alive? Aye? Great, carry on.'" But nope-

He enters your room with a bouquet of flowers, a get-well balloon, and a tight-lipped smile on his face. You're in the hospital bed, donning a green, pattern gown, and eating a jello cup.

He taps his knuckles on the wall, and you whip your head up to look at him - tall, muscular, built like an absolute unit of a man. He's dressed in a navy shirt, looking like it might burst at the sleeves and chest, and sporting his firehouse's team number on the right side. Black workshop pants and thick, black boots. Eyes blue and bright as his dazzling smile.

You didn't have your glasses on the first time you had seen him, but you could recognize the mohawk of your savor anywhere.

He steps in and offers a small wave. "Evenin- well, eh, afternoon." He says. He takes slow steps closer to your bed. You put your jello cup down and instinctively run your fingers through your hair - god damn these stupid hospital robes and the lack of a hairbrush-

"Hello." You offer with a small smile, your voice raspy. "You, uh- you're the one who saved me."

"Aye, I am." He says, rocking back and forth on his feet. "Oh, erm- brought ye some stuff." Stuff. That's certainly all it feels like, as he sets the flowers and the balloon on the table next to you. You were in a goddamn fire and nearly suffocated for Christ's sake, and here he is with some trinkets. It screams "half-assed". But Price had said it was the right thing to do, so here he was. Doing the right thing, which is what convinced him to get this job in the first place.

You smile. "That's very kind of you - I honestly didn't think I'd be seeing you again."

"None o' tha'. Ye owe me yer life." Ooch, bad choice of words...

But you laugh, softly and sweetly. It makes you cough, but Soap is still stuck on the sound of your laugh. You look delicate in the hospital bed, but you're still glowing. He feels hus own breath get sucked from his lungs as he huffs. "Sorry... the aftermath always been right hard fer me."

"Well... thank you." You say, smiling at him again. "For saving me."

"Anytime." He replies, gazing at you with a toothy smile - and he means it.

You both look at each other for a few seconds, though it feels like an eternity. Soap is trying to recover from the blaze of your light, and you're drowning in his blue irises. You don't want this to be the last time you see him - you do owe him your life, after all - and neither does he.

"What's your name?" You say, finally breaking the silence.

He exhales. "Johnny - Mactavish. But my fellas call me Soap."

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Reconnection: cbf!soap x f!reader

Long part sorry folks. The next parts will probably be longer because we're getting into the meat of the story.

You could scream. You wanted to, and would've, because how much worse could your life get right now?

Everything was falling apart and the cherry on top was that your childhood best friend, your crush and first love who you didn't leave on necessarily good terms with, was standing in front of you, seeing your downfall.

And the worst part was that John looked amazing.

He looked different, nearly unrecognizable if you had only glanced at him. His features were sharper and the stubble on his face didn't help the serious grown up look he had on his face before he looked at you. His eyes were bright, brighter than you remembered and he looked at you with a sort of nervousness that made you swallow hard.

And of course he seemed to have gotten bigger.

It seemed his muscles had grown twice as large since you had seen him last. You were convinced that his arms had to be as large as your head now.

He was hot.

Of course he was. Even after all these years, after what he did, you couldn't help but still be attracted to him. He had always looked attractive but now it seemed he had gotten even more so.

Embarrassment washed over you. Compared to him you looked a disaster. You hadn't had the time to stick with your routine and you knew the clothes you threw on were definitely dirty.

After all this time he was in front of you and you could hardly even speak a word. What were you supposed to say? What was there for you to say other than a quick hi before you scurried out of corner store-

"You alright?" John asked and you jumped slightly before you glanced back at the snack rack on the ground.

"Uh, yeah." You gave him a sheepish smile and he returned one back. You saw the shop worker from afar give you an annoyed look and you quickly gestured to the snacks on the ground. "Should probably pick these up..."

"I'll help."

You tensed up but didn't say anything as you set down your items while he helped you pick them up. You were quick as you did so, trying your best to get it done as quick as possible so you could run out.

"Mam told me you moved back recently." He said and your stomach dropped so fast you felt sick.

"Yeah, my job let's me move around," you lied immediately with a nervous chuckle. "Decided to move back to see my parents and what not."

"That's great."

You hummed and avoided his eyes when you both stood up. You hoped that the small talk would end there but John cleared his throat.

"I'm actually visiting home too," he smiled but it didn't quite get rid of the nervousness in his eyes. "For a while, at least."

Your eyes widened. You didn't think it could get any worse and yet knowing that he was going to be in town made you want to hide away.

Why couldn't this happen when you had a job? The last thing you wanted was for him to think that you had hardly tried to make a life for yourself since university.

As much as you didn't want to see him however, you were happy to know that he was home and that he was alive.

"Oh...you're on leave." You said and he nodded without taking his eyes off you.

"Yeah, won't be gong back for a couples months, probably longer." He explained and you pressed your lips together.

"That's nice."

Awkward silence fell between the two of you and you averted your eyes from him, unable to take the way he was looking at you.

You weren't sure what else to say. There was so much you wanted to ask him, to talk to him about and yet you couldn't find the courage to even find your voice. Fear gripped your throat and you struggled to even breathe with the tightness.

John must've felt the same way as he took a small step back from you and fidgeted with his fingers.

It hurt you. Things used to be so different between you, you never would've experienced this kind of awkwardness years ago, you never would've thought it would happen.

When you thought about how you would react when you saw him again, what you would do or say, you never imagined that it would be like this. In your mind you said the right things, in your mind you were happy to see him but right now you were afraid he'd somehow find out you were a failure.

You couldn't take it anymore. You had to get out, go home and get wasted so you could hopefully forget all about this.

"Well, I should probably get back."

"I'll walk with ya."

You looked at him incredulously but he smiled.

"You don't have to-"

"Well, we're heading the same way, so why not? We can catch up more while we're at it."

You blinked at him and despite the fact that your mind screamed at you to say no the longer you looked at him and his warm smile the more you found yourself giving in to the old memories you shared with him.

All of the times when you'd walk home together, goofy around and talking about whatever came to mind. The days where you spent every waking hour with each other until it was time to go to bed.

It hurt your heart but you craved it. You were desperate for it again.

Just this once, you told yourself.

"I need to pay for these first." You held up your alcohol and snack, hoping he wouldn't question it.

Luckily for you he grinned and walked back down the aisle.

"Aye," he grabbed a box of popcorn and looked back at you proudly. "Me too."

~

Johnny couldn't keep his eyes off you.

Your social media pictures didn’t do any justice for you. You were beautiful, even more so in person and especially in the evening sunlight, where it seemed your skin and hair glowed from the sun.

You looked different but in the best way possible, like you had grown into someone who you wanted to be and it was hard for him to not stare.

He’d stare at you all day if he could. He wanted to, he wanted to commit every detail, new and old, to his memory again so that he wouldn’t ever have to know what it was like to not see you. He wanted your face to always be a clear picture when he thought of you.

"How’s the military treating you?” You asked, a little awkwardly, as the two of you walked together towards your home. “Are you a hero yet?”

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle though he wasn’t exactly too pleased about the notion of him being a hero.

After killing Makarov only three months ago he wanted to feel more than a sense of immense dread but it was hard to feel anything else when he had spent nearly two and half months in a sling with a new scar.

The recovery was slow, stressing over whether or not his captain would make it. Luckily the old man was home with a few more weeks of recovery. But he was also stressing over the fact that the past seven years of his life had been spent with a crushing loneliness in the back of his mind.

It was stupid. Just barely missing a bullet to the head was enough to knock sense back into him to make him realize his fear of reaching out to you was stupid.

If he had died, he would’ve died without seeing you again, his best friend, the love of his life, and he would’ve rotted in hell steaming with regret over never having said another word to you.

He couldn’t let himself go by without you any longer, he had to see you which was why he came home.

He had planned to visit your parents to see where you were but then his mom told him that you had moved back and he practically ran out of the house.

It was pure chance that he ran into you at the store, but he couldn’t be more grateful that he finally got to see you again.

Even if things were less than ideal.

It was easy for him to tell you were expecting to see him or for him to speak to you. In fact, he was sure you looked like you were ready to book it out of the store when he came up to you.

He was glad you didn’t.

“I wouldn’t call myself a hero.” He shrugged and you titled your head. “Just keeping the world clean, as my captain would say.”

“I’m glad it’s working out for you.” You said and he was surprised to see that you gave him a genuine smile.

Johnny was a little worried coming back to see you. He knew his career would come up and since it was the whole reason the he stopped speaking to you, it was a sore subject.

Yet it seemed for the most part, at least for right now, you were pretty neutral about it.

“It’s hard but I like it.” He felt a little lighter. “How about you? Your job sounds pretty sweet if you can move around a lot.”

You averted your gaze from him and shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s not so bad.” Your answer was vague but he didn’t dwell on it.

He was making conversation with you. Small talk but it was a start and he could feel that things were starting to get less tense and awkward. The longer he walked next to you and spoke with you, the more and more happier he got.

You were talking to him. He was so afraid that you wouldn’t and honestly he expected it.

He expected you to turn him away but by some miracle you hadn’t.

“Never mind about work, let’s talk about something else.” He urged and you raised an eyebrow. “Tell me what’s going on with ya.”

“Nothing much,” you giggled and he playfully groaned. “My life is pretty boring.”

“Load of shite. There has to be something…”

He hid the way his mood dropped as he realized there was one thing he could ask you about. He wanted to avoid it but he didn’t want to potentially overstep any of your new boundaries.

“Your fiancé,” he began and your eyebrows knitted together. “How’s he like it in this small town?”

“Well…” you were hesitant and his face fell when you sheepishly turned away from him. “I broke off the marriage with him.”

He would’ve been happy if it weren’t for the way your face pulled into a frown as you stared at the asphalt. He suspected it but he didn’t want to assume for his benefit, especially now that you were heartbroken over it.

“What happened?”

“He cheated on me.”

Johnny clenched his jaw and his hands balled up into fists immediately. His face fell into a scowl and he had to take a deep breath to keep himself calm.

It took a lot for him to not see red, especially as he saw the way your shoulders slumped and the way you averted your eyes from his as if you were ashamed of it.

Oh, if he ever got his hands on the man. He wasn’t sure if there would be anything left of him and if there was he’d be in the hospital for a while when he was done.

“That fucking bastard.” He spat out in a low voice. It was easy to tell he was angry and you quickly tried to placate him.

“He’s not worth it.” You told him firmly and he huffed. “It was nearly a year ago.”

“Dinnae care when it was, you don’t deserve that.”

“I know I don’t. I just don’t want you beating him up.”

Johnny scoffed snd though he unclenched his fists his jaw still clicked as he shook his head with an eye roll.

“He’s fucking lucky he isn’t here.”

“You can’t beat up people for me.”

“I have and I will. The day I don’t is the day I’m dead.”

Despite the concern on your face you smiled and a soft chuckle escaped your mouth which made him loosen up.

He let out a short sigh and watched as you shook your head.

“I guess you haven’t changed that much, John.” You said and he felt a pang in his heart.

John.

Suddenly reality came back and the rose colored glasses were ripped off.

Just because you were speaking with him now didn’t mean that things were cleared up. It didn’t mean anything had changed because at the end of the day there were years of time in between this moment and the last where you had become strangers.

And that’s what you both were. Strangers who used to know each other who were now seeing each other again, completely changed, despite what you said.

“Guess not.” He mumbled and felt his chest grow heavy when he realized the two of you were standing in front of your house.

This was going to end and he wouldn’t see you again. If he did it wouldn’t be like how he wanted, it would be a quick wave maybe a small conversation about the weather before you both went your separate ways.

He’d be deployed and then you’d be gone.

He couldn’t let that happen, he wasn’t going to let it happen. He was going to do everything he could to win you back, everything he could to rebuild what he broke and if it took years he was willing to do it.

His heart pounded against his ribs but if there was one thing about his job is that even if he was scared, he still had to do it,

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” He blurted out and you snapped your head towards him with wide eyes. “And the rest of this week?”

“Like…spend time together?” You hesitated and he nodded.

“You know, the movies, lunch…Mam’s having our annual family dinner tomorrow. You could come to that.”

You bit your lips and shifted on your feet. You looked uncertain and Johnny had to force himself to look straight at you and not let his emotions get the better of him as you thought for a moment.

“I’d like that.”

His eyes widened and he stared at you with surprise before his heart began to race.

“Ya mean that? All of it?” He stepped closer and you nodded.

“Yeah.”

He could cheer. He probably would once he was alone and you were out of earshot. He let out a relieved chuckle before he ran a hand through his slightly overgrown mohawk.

“It’ll be fun, you know how well Mam cooks.” He felt jittery in the best way possible. “We can figure out specifics tomorrow. I’ll message you…do you still have the same phone number.”

You nodded.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

You had a fond look in your eyes that Johnny must’ve mirrored as the two of you stood there for a moment just staring at each other.

After all these years he was finally getting to be with you again. He’s not sure if he deserved it.

“Then it’s official.” He handed you the popcorn he bought with a grin before he stepped away. “I’ll message you in the morning.”

“Wait you don’t want these?” You gave him a confused look as you held up the popcorn but he shook his head.

“Nah, I got it for you. That’s still your favorite right?”

You stared down at the box and you nodded slowly, a flustered look spreading across your face before you gave him a genuine smile.

He could hardly keep his excitement down, it’d be a miracle if he didn’t confess everything to you right now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, bonnie.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Tags are closed!

A/n: don’t be fooled, there’s still angst on the way but it’s a happy ending

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce @pepsicolacoochie @hayleybarnesx @tiredmetalenthusiast @misshoneypaper @sodavrr @ghostslittlegf @glitterypirateduck @comeonatmebruh @mandalover2023 @blush-haze @xxshadowbabexx @cod-z @sadsackssss @fandomsfanficsfantasize @raeyas-ghost

[killerpancakeburger]

One man's penalty is another man's prize

SUMMARY: When agreeing to lend a hand with the organisation of some military tests, you thought it would be limited to marking times and keeping scores. Statistically, there was no way that the... "creative" penalty you came up with would be selected, right?

And the chances for your boyfriend to be the one subjected to it had to be close to zero, right?

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (Soaps calls Reader Ma'am twice, that's it)

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Fat!Reader, Smug!Soap x1000, a bit Possessive!Soap, Established Relationship, flirting, banter, teasing, partial nudity. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies. Suggestive content but nothing graphic.

WORDS COUNT: 2k

A/N: crackfic...? Soap does push-ups fic. Soap wears booty shorts fic. That actually no one One (1) person asked for.

If you need "visual on the target", this piece by @rusticfurnace and this one by @wombywoo have been on my mind. (Hoping its ok to tag, if not, tell me)

For @glitterypirateduck Cod Vacation Mode Challenge, prompt 27.

A drop of sweat falls from your temple and lands onto the stack of papers you were scribbling on. You wipe off your dripping wet forehead with the back of your arm.

The torrid sun is beating down hard on the ground and bodies alike.

This unforgiving heat left you no respite all day long, despite the fact that all you did was sit and take notes. Drenched in sweat, you fan yourself with your notepad. Perspiration keeps accumulating between the rolls of your stomach no matter how many times you dry it off. Today's the base annual testing day, an unofficial gathering meant to measure soldiers’ performance and entertain some friendly competition.

You would almost regret committing to helping today by playing scribes, but the sadistic satisfaction of seeing others toiling away while you twiddle your thumbs is enough to thwart that feeling. That, and Soap's little… display.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head when you arrived this morning and stumbled upon him stretching his legs, bent over, fingers aiming for his feet, wearing the shortest, thighest shorts you've ever seen. Then he greeted you as if nothing was out of the ordinary. You glanced in interrogation at Gaz and Ghost, who were respectively wearing Bermudas and tracksuits, and were met with a shrug and an eye roll.

To make matters worse, he traded his blue shirt for a sleeveless top that did wonders for his arms and shoulders - as if his tanned biceps weren't already a work of art and a weapon of mass destruction all at once.

You don’t know which incubus possessed him to wear booty shorts, but you definitely aren't complaining.

You spend the day ogling him shamelessly, knowing he was putting on a show for you. He'd sponge down his glistening face with the bottom of his shirt, offering you a tantalizing view of his toned stomach. He'd throw dazzling smiles, teasing winks and blow kisses your way. At some point, he even emptied his water bottle on his head, resulting in his shirt turning transparent and sticking to his skin in an almost obscene way.

His myriad of attentions made you dizzy, in the best of ways. You may have made yourself look like a lovesick fool, with your blissfully happy smiles and your stupid giggles, but except for the people you were close with, no one would dare to nag you about it - lest a certain Scottish sergeant with a big mouth and no fear of confrontation gets all up in their face.

Strong, bronzed hands heavily lean on your desk. Palms are turned towards you, fingers gripping the table's edge.

“M ‘ere fer my penalty.”

The voice is raspy, accent thick, tone charming and teasing at the same time.

You slowly look up from your paper to meet Soap's cerulean eyes; along the way you can’t help but peek at his tanned arms, his bulging biceps, the beads of sweat rolling down his neck, the familiar chin scar in the middle of his dark stubble. His shirt is soaked with sweat.

He's wearing the grin he has every time he lays eyes on you; a blinding, earnest thing. However, even that beguiling smile cannot hide the spark of triumph and playfulness in his gaze.

Johnny's terribly competitive, that's an open secret. It's no surprise that today's tests would fire him up. The perpetual FNG has a title to defend, after all, and with you watching, the stakes are high despite the tests’ results bearing no influence on their file.

But that excitement wasn’t supposed to target you.

“A penalty?” you repeat, unconvinced, twirling your pen between your fingers. “You?”

Doubt infused with sarcasm seeps in your tone, very much on purpose. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, on your guard. 

Your first instinct was to withdraw, prop yourself against the backrest, the distance between the two of you reduced to something too trivial to be proper, but you can’t back off from his implicit challenge. It's a well-crafted game with the two of you as its exclusive players. A dance of provocation and endearment, a mischievous yet comfortable back and forth.

The lack of privacy of it would usually discourage your bashful nature, who avoids confrontation at all costs. But the sergeant has figured out how to appeal to the competitive, driven part of you. So you stand your ground, brazenly, like you're the only two people in the world.

There is no way that Soap earned a penalty, no way that he lost. He's one of the best there is, if not the best - not that his ego needs the boost.

The SAS's youngest prodigue who beat all previous records, his name forever carved into the archives and his legend whispered among impressionable new recruits.

Not to mention that the way he said “my penalty” sounded more like “my prize” than anything else.

“‘ere. Proof.”

He hands out a piece of paper to you, a smug smirk not leaving his lips, one that is not without evoking the satisfied expression of the cat who got the cream. Your fingers brush his as you retrieve the “penalty receipt”, the contact feeling like flames licking your skin.

You take a break from defiantly holding his gaze to glance at the note. Its contents sends an ominous shiver down your spine, your eyes slightly widening in understanding.. and horror.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The odds were, what, one in hundreds? Amplified by the fact that Soap was the one to get ahold of it, out of all competitors.

You vainly stare at your own scrawl, as if that could make the ink vanish, but reality simply gazes back. 

When asked to participate in making up a penalty, you wrote the silliest thing that came to mind, as a sort of inside joke only yourself would be privy to. Eight innocuous little words that would sign your downfall.

“Do fifty push-ups with me on their back”.

The fifty was an arbitrary pick between twenty that you judged too lenient, and a hundred that would take too long; however, you've thought a bit more about the “me on their back” part. You were heavier than the average soldier's rucksack - significantly so. It had to be a challenge, so you've made it this way.

Yet you never expected to actually end up on someone's back.

How Johnny managed to get his hands on your penalty out of all of them, you'd probably never find out, but you couldn’t deny that the “me” mentioned was you. Indeed, on top of your… recognizable handwriting, the note was adorned with little scribbles you had mindlessly doodled while bored. They were simple but easily identifiable: a foamy bar of soap, a deadpan skull, a jerrycan wearing a cap, and a stack of cash with a hat, or, put differently, the Task Force 141 stylized.

A version of the team that Soap was well-versed with, having witnessed you drawing it countless times.

There was no way out of the corner you were backed into - Soap put you on the spot, the brightest one possible, and that little shit knew it perfectly - did it on purpose.

You sigh exaggeratedly as you get up. You bypass your desk to stand in front of Johnny, not missing the way he looks you up and down. This is the first time he's seeing you in shorts, and despite how self-conscious you are about the girth of your chafing thighs, he makes it obvious how much he's enjoying the view. You cross your arms with an amused smile on your lips.

“You know you’re not supposed to enjoy your penalty, right? Kinda defeats the purpose.”

His smile mirrors yours as he bends over to whisper in your ear, close enough for you to feel his body heat, but not making a move to touch you.

“And ye do know I’d never let any of those eejits sweat and grunt under ye? That's my prerogative.”

Despite the shiver his gravelly voice sent down your spine,you throw your head back in laughter.

“Ooh so that's what this is! You're jealous.”

He remains unfazed by the accusation.

“Call it what ye want.”

“You do know I'm heavier than your rucksack, right? Much heavier? You’re going to hurt yourself.”

His eyes glint with hunger for challenge.

“Don't knock it til you've tried it.”

“Fine. Drop and give me twenty, pretty boy.”

His grin becomes blinding. He reaches behind to grab the back of his shirt and rips it off like it burned him. 

You gape despite yourself in front of his glistening chest, all tanned skin, white scars, hard stomach and soft pecs, and he gently lifts your chin up with his index finger to close your mouth, an extremely smug smirk adorning his lips.

“Yes, Ma'am. Right away, Ma'am.”

From a stranger's perspective, his reply drips with an insolence that matches the cockiness he exhibited all day. But you know better; you can hear the underlying docility in his tone, the one he expresses when you two are intimate.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he kneels, the display way too lascivious for how public it is. You bite your lips, frowning your eyebrows in warning, but say nothing as he obeys and performs the twenty push-ups asked - on one arm. It is good that the position prevents him from staring at you, because you reckon otherwise he'd be giving you the slyest grin.

More than the impressive show of strength; more than the way his skin glows with sweat; more than the flaunting of his imposing muscles; the knowledge that he's undertaking it all for you is what tightens the band of arousal in your stomach, along with multiplying the bubbles of happiness and affection in your chest.

“Gonna take a seat, bonnie?”

He's forced to heckle you since you were so caught up in your staring that you forgot that the next part of the penalty required your participation.

And of course, he chose the cheekiest way to do so. The question, innocent at first glance, sent you back into the bedroom. The last time he asked you that was right before you sat on his face. And the time before that was when you rid him.

You oblige yourself to focus on the here and now, and carefully straddle Soap's back.

“Are you sure you can- Woh.”

He interrupts you by suddenly lowering and rising his body, obliging you to grab his shoulders to keep your balance, but easily demonstrating that the added weight has very little impact on his performance. 

“Alright, alright, you convinced me,” you yield. “That's only one out of fifty, though.”

“And yet ye dare doubt me again,” he grumbles under his breath, initiating a steadfast pace.

It is a shame that your current position prevents you from watching his face, but you concentrate on other things instead. Never before did you have the opportunity to revel in the glorious vision that was his powerful back.

You tease him by periodically clenching your thighs without warning, squeezing the meat of his shoulders or ruffling the back of his drenched mohawk.

You let out an impressed whistle when he reaches fifty, before scrambling to liberate him. He pretends needing your help to stand up, and you give him your hands without hesitation. Once he's up, you affectionately shove his shirt into his naked torso, an implicit command to make himself proper.

Following his dressing, you two stare into each others' eyes, hands in hands, like lovebirds until his stomach roars like thunder. 

You giggle; he sighs exaggeratedly, suddenly bowed down by an invisible weight, like he wasn’t overflowing with energy a minute ago.

“M starvin’. Tae death.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

He starts walking towards the canteen's building, after a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and his eyes motionning between you and the coveted reserve of food in a silent but strong proposition. You purposely let him take the lead so you can sneak behind him and grab a generous handful of his ass.

He turns his head towards you with mock outrage on his face, a hand pressed on chest, quickly replaced by appreciation.

“Been itching to do that all day,” you confess with an impish smile.

Walking side by side, you start happily humming, and just as you let your hand drop, he seizes it and puts it back on his buttock.

[writeforfandoms]

Howlin’ For You

Find my CoD masterlist

Wolf shifter!Soap gets himself lost on a run one night and runs into you. The problem? You think he's a dog and take him home to try and find his people. Naturally, Soap falls head over heels.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, shifter lore, world building, I just kinda throw y’all in the deep end, Price is pack dad. 

Word count: 8k

Alright. So maybe the nighttime run had been a bad idea. Maybe. And maybe Soap shouldn’t have shifted on his own. And maaaaaybe he should have paid more attention to where he was going. 

But he wasn’t lost! He’d never been lost in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He just… had to find the right road back to base. That was all. 

He briefly debated shifting back, but he didn’t fancy having to explain why he was running around naked. Price would kill him for that. And then Ghost would probably kill him, too. 

So he huffed and continued trotting along. Fortunately the wound in his shoulder had healed enough not to bother him at this easy pace, though he was careful to monitor it. Despite what medical said, he didn’t like being benched for injuries.

Which was why he’d gone on a night run in the first place. Couldn’t sleep, pack was gone on a mission, it seemed like a good idea at the time. 

…Yeah this had definitely been a bad idea.

Soap huffed again, pausing to shake himself off. He’d slid down a hill earlier, which hadn’t hurt him, but it had half-covered him in mud. He did not approve. He would much rather be clean.

And he’d get to clean off just as soon as he got back to base. 

Lifting his nose, he sniffed around for any hint he could pick up. But there was nothing special here - hints of deer and rabbits, old car smell, and tiny whiffs of human. But not a particular human, not like he was close to infringing on anyone’s property. 

Which meant he was pretty well in the middle of nowhere.

Gaz was never going to let him live this down. 

His ears pricked and he turned his head as he heard a car coming down the road, slowly getting louder. He trotted a couple steps off to the side, just in case, and watched as the car rounded the bend, headlights even brighter in the relative dark to his eyes. The car slowed and the hazard lights turned on, flashing orange in the dark, even as the car slowed to a stop on the shoulder. 

The driver’s door opened and Soap tensed a little, watching carefully. But it was just a woman - she smelled good. Human, absolutely, but good. His nose twitched in interest. 

“Hey pup,” she greeted, getting out of her car and crouching down. “You okay over there? Where are your people?” 

Oh. She thought he was a dog. Well, he supposed she could be forgiven for that - it was dark, and he was muddy, and okay yeah he did kind of look like a dog. Gaz liked to tease him about it sometimes. 

“I’ve got some goodies here,” she continued, moving slowly, pulling a bag out of her car. The crinkle caused his ears to perk, and he sniffed hopefully. Smelled like jerky. Mmm. “You want some? C’mere, I’ve got plenty.” She tossed a piece about half-way across the road, and he trotted forward to gobble it up. 

Really, she was nowhere near a threat, even with him on four legs. He could get himself out of trouble easily enough. 

“Good pup,” she crooned, keeping her voice gentle. “You want more?” She held out a piece to him. 

Soap paused to consider this. On the one hand, free food. On the other, she was clearly trying to get him close enough to check for a collar, which she wouldn’t find. 

Well. If nothing else, she’d get him back to civilization, and from there he could figure out how to get back to base. He’d be fine.

So he stepped forward to take the jerky from her, making sure to be very gentle. He didn’t even flinch as her free hand checked for a collar. 

“Looks like you escaped from someone’s yard,” she mused softly, gaze sweeping over him. “Alright. Do you wanna come in the car? Go on a little car ride? I’ll give you more jerky.”

Soap just wagged his tail at her, waiting patiently as she opened the back door before he hopped in. At least she didn’t try to buckle him in, he hated that. She did give him another piece of jerky, as promised, before she slid back into the driver’s seat. 

This was going to be interesting. 

–

You couldn’t help glancing back at the dog in the backseat. Partially to make sure he was okay, partially because you were nervous, and partially because you were trying to figure out if you’d seen him before. He was a big dog, but very well behaved. Hopefully you’d be able to get the mud off of him to get a better look at him. 

The vet was undoubtedly closed by now, so you wouldn’t be able to get him checked for a microchip until morning. 

But you couldn’t regret bringing him home. You just didn’t have it in you to leave a dog on the side of the road, especially one so obviously a beloved pet. 

You parked in front of your tiny house, getting out and gathering up your things before letting the dog out. You had another piece of jerky in hand, hoping that would entice him to cooperate. 

“This way,” you murmured to the dog, watching him hop down out of your car. “C’mon, let’s go inside and get cleaned up. And maybe have some dinner, hmm?”

The dog wagged his tail again and trotted right up to the front door, like he expected to be let in. You laughed softly but let him in, giving him the piece of jerky and then giving him a minute to sniff around. 

“Alright, if you’re a pet, you should know better than to potty in the house,” you said, setting your things down. “Shower first, I think. For you.” You eyed the muddy pawprints left on the floor and decided that was now a tomorrow problem. “Okay. C’mon pup.” You tapped the side of your thigh, and the dog followed you back to your bathroom. 

He didn’t even protest getting in the shower, thankfully. Just stood under the spray calmly. 

The problems started when you got out the shampoo. (Which, honestly, you were amazed you still had any under your sink, you’d bought it for a friend’s dog ages ago.) 

Then he boofed softly, circling in the shower and refusing to hold still for more than a second at a time. He kept pulling his paws away from you. 

“Stubborn,” you grumbled at the dog, though you couldn’t help but laugh when he kept walking under your hand, inadvertently spreading the shampoo. “Well, I guess this is one way to do it.” 

Rinsing off was another exercise in patience - the dog didn’t want to hold still, and ended up shaking muddy soap suds all over the shower, and your clothes. You just sighed deeply. 

“Don’t make me regret being nice to you,” you grumbled, finally washing off the last of the soap. “Alright, guess it’s time to dry off.”

The dog bounded out of the shower and bounced around the tiny bathroom. Seriously bounced. Water got everywhere, and you just stared for a moment in absolute dismay.

“Definitely regretting all my life choices.” But you grabbed a towel and started working on drying him off.

It took two towels before you released him into the rest of the house and changed out of your dirty clothes. 

The dog, of course, acted like nothing was wrong and sat patiently in the kitchen, tail wagging. 

“You’re a menace,” you told the dog, although you started gathering up ingredients anyway. “It’s probably super late for your dinner, but oh well. This is when I normally eat.” You paused. “Shit, you can’t eat some things, right? Hang on.” You whipped out your phone to do a bit of frantic googling. 

The dog boofed again, walked two circles around you, and then laid down with the biggest sigh. You looked away from your phone and right into big gorgeous blue puppy dog eyes… and you caved, crouching down to scratch his ears. 

“You’re just too cute,” you grumbled. “I can’t be mad at you.” You stroked your hand down the dog’s back. “You’re a handsome boy too, aren’t you?” He really was, mostly red with a white stripe down his nose, white socks, and a little white blotch at his shoulders. You’d lay even odds that he was part husky. 

He stayed where he was as you cooked, humming a little to yourself, big eyes following your every move. But at least he wasn’t underfoot. 

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the vet, see if you’ve got a microchip,” you told him, leaning back against the counter to let everything cook a bit. “And if not, I’ll put up signs. You can’t have traveled too far.” 

The dog just sat up when you plated food, leaving a bowl on the ground for him. You’d checked all the ingredients and just had to hope it wouldn’t upset his stomach. 

After throwing the dishes in the sink and taking him out for a potty break, you were more than ready for bed. 

Apparently, so was the dog, as he immediately hopped up on your bed.

“Hey!” You frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

The dog wagged his tail at you and then circled the end of the bed before laying down, curled into an almost perfect circle. 

“Oh my god.” You threw your hands up and turned to get ready for bed. “Fine, but don’t complain if I kick you in the middle of the night.” 

But if you were being honest with yourself, when you laid down to sleep, the soft breathing and the warmth of the dog was… soothing. He made you feel less alone, less isolated. 

You reminded yourself firmly to not get attached, because he wasn’t staying. 

So, of course, he wasn’t microchipped.

“Nope,” the vet tech confirmed the following morning. “No microchip. I don’t recognize him, either.”

“Well, it was worth a try,” you said on a sigh, patting the dog’s head. “Thanks for checking for me.”

“Sure thing!”

“Guess I need to make some posters,” you said, looking down at the dog. He boofed at you, tail wagging. 

You had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

–

Soap actually hadn’t meant to stay this long. He really hadn’t. But, well, you were pretty and lonely. It wasn’t hard for him to smell it on you, although it was less pervasive when he stuck near you. 

And the team wasn’t supposed to be back for a few more days, so it wasn’t a problem to stay for a little longer. 

(He could also admit, if only to himself, that he also needed more time to orient himself. He had no idea where the fuck he had ended up.) 

Maybe it was a bad idea, but he was making it work. And he wasn’t stupid, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay long. Tonight, probably, he’d have to leave. Now that he knew where he was and where he needed to go. 

Hell, he knew that if Price found out, he’d have Soap’s head. Staying with an uninitiated human was risky, even though he had excellent control of his shifts. And it wasn’t just a risk to himself, but to his whole team. 

Bad decisions seemed to be the theme of his forced downtime, though. 

He’d just have to leave tonight and sneak back onto base. No big deal. Nobody would know, he wouldn’t get in trouble, everything would be fine. 

He did feel a bit bad when he hopped down lightly from your bed. Hopefully you wouldn’t spend too much time looking for him. 

Making sure to leave the back door cracked open a few inches to show how he’d gotten out, Soap trotted off back towards base. It would be tight, getting back in before sunrise, but he’d always enjoyed a good challenge. 

He didn’t enjoy being wrong.

Which he very much was.

Price stood outside the barracks, arms crossed, staring down at him. Soap gulped, ears flattening to his head, tail tucked. 

“Inside,” Price growled, opening the door for him. Soap slunk through the door, obediently following Price down the hall and to his room. 

By now, the lot of them had no shame around each other. Hard to be body-shy when they’d all shifted together, many times, and shared sometimes tight sleeping quarters. So Soap just waited until the door was closed to shift back to human. 

“Explain.” Price leaned back against the door, arms crossed over his chest again.

“Didn’t think ye’d be back so soon,” Soap muttered, grabbing a shirt first. 

Price didn’t say anything, just stared Soap down, even and outwardly calm as only he could be. 

“Just went for a run,” Soap said, shrugging, even as he grabbed more clean clothes to pull on. “No’ a big thing.”

“Must have been a long run.” 

“Aye.” Soap swallowed. “Might’ve gone farther than I wanted.” 

Price nodded once. “Any trouble?”

Soap shook his head. “Nah. I was careful.”

Finally, Price’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. And your shoulder?”

“Almost healed.” Soap relaxed too, grinning briefly. “I’m careful ‘bout it!”

Price snorted his disbelief of that. “Then you can go running with Ghost. 0600.”

Soap didn’t groan, because that wouldn’t help his case. He tried not to pout, because this was absolutely a punishment, and they both knew it. “Yes, sir.” 

Price nodded once and let himself out, the door clicking shut softly after him. Soap flopped face-first onto his bed and groaned into his pillow. 

–

You tried hard not to be heartbroken when you found the back door open a little, cold morning air wafting in. The dog was gone.

Hopefully he’d find his way back home on his own. 

You spent the next three days keeping your eyes open any time you went anywhere, just in case. If he was still lost, well, at least he knew you. You could always make more dog-friendly food. 

And when you didn’t see the dog for a week, you figured that was it. He’d found his way back home. That was okay. It was much better for him to be at home. You wouldn’t wish losing a dog on anyone. At least, not anyone who took such good care of their dog. 

You parked in front of your house and slumped forward, forehead resting on the steering wheel. You were tired. Exhausted, really. The kind of exhausted that came from too little sleep and stress and probably a little bit of touch starvation. 

You might have stayed right there for longer, trying to find the energy to move, except there was a woof, and then the car shook a little as a dog stood on its hind legs to look in the window. The dog. 

“What the hell?” You blinked at the dog and then grabbed your things, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

The dog wagged happily at you, boofing at you and running up to the front door. When you didn’t move fast enough, he ran back to you, tail still wagging. 

“I thought you went home.” You blinked again but moved slowly to the door, opening the door. The dog pushed past you to head inside, trotting right along. He looked good - no mud this time, at least. His coat looked good, and he didn’t look like he’d lost any weight. So he was being taken care of.

Even if he had escaped yet again. 

“You’re going to give your people a heart attack,” you scolded gently, locking the door behind you before putting your things down. “How did you even get back here?” 

He whined a little, excited, tail still going a mile a minute as he tried to wait patiently for you in the kitchen. You dropped a hand to pat the top of his head, opening your fridge to look inside.

Not that there was much to see. You hadn’t been shopping, and it showed. 

“Um.” You frowned, glancing down at the dog. “Hm. Well, I can probably whip up something.” 

The dog watched you, sitting just at the edge of your space so he was barely not in the way, eyes bright and ears perked. He was pretty big for a husky, even though the coloring matched. He was probably a mutt of some kind, but you were a bit surprised at his size. 

“Here you go, big boy.” You set a bowl down for him again and took your own plate to the tiny table. 

Where you sat and stared at it, stomach turning. You needed to eat. You knew you needed to eat.

You just… didn’t want to.

The dog rested his head on your thigh, whining softly. But he was looking up at you, not at your plate. 

“It’s okay, pup,” you immediately murmured, one hand dropping to scratch between his ears. “You still hungry? I’ll give you more in a little bit, have to make sure that settles okay first.” You gently rubbed your thumb over his furry forehead and between his eyes in slow, soothing strokes. His eyes closed with a big sigh. 

You weren’t sure exactly how long you sat there, curiously blank, stroking this dog. Long enough that your food had gone cold. Finally, you gave up on it and put a bit more into the dog’s bowl before putting the rest away for another day. 

Your bedtime routine was barely disturbed by the dog, and he once again hopped up onto your bed. This time, you didn’t protest, just let him get comfortable. 

And when his head landed on your thigh, his warmth stretched out next to your legs, you just sighed softly and closed your eyes. 

You weren’t sure if you were surprised or not when you woke to an empty bed and chilly morning air. 

It took a while to drag yourself through your routine, getting ready for work by rote, brain definitely not engaged yet. Why bother?

But you still stopped, blinking owlishly at the sight of the dog sitting in the middle of the kitchen, tail wagging, jaws parted in a doggy grin.

“Oh. You’re still here.” You felt dumb saying it out loud, admitting to what you’d assumed. That he was gone again. And then you felt even more stupid because he couldn’t reply and didn’t even know what you’d said. “Well. I guess you’ll want breakfast, then.”

You reheated the leftovers from last night for him and set them down before getting your own things ready. You still had a few minutes before you had to leave for work, which you spent pondering what to do with the dog.

You couldn’t leave him locked inside. It wasn’t fair to him, and you didn’t want to come home to a ruined house. 

He solved your dilemma by walking to the front door and sitting calmly, looking back at you. You huffed out something close to a laugh.

“Well, I guess you know your way home by now,” you agreed, gathering up your things and opening the front door for him. “Be careful, there are always idiots on the road.” 

The dog boofed at you once before trotting off again, tail held high. 

You got in your car and went to work. 

–

Soap wasn’t an idiot. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew he should put you out of his mind and move on, because you didn’t know and couldn’t know about his nature. 

But something about you just… pulled at him. Maybe it was how uncomplicated things were with you. Maybe it was the way you smiled for him. Maybe it was that he could help you feel better.

Maybe it was that his wolf loved the way you smelled and wanted to just bury himself in your blankets.

Whatever it was, Soap ended up sneaking away to you just about every chance he got. Any time the team had downtime, he was off. He couldn’t go during the full moon, because the pack always ran that night together, but he still managed to make time to go visit you. 

“If you keep running off, Cap’s gonna follow you one day,” Gaz said as he dropped down next to Soap. 

Soap huffed. “He hasn’t yet,” he pointed out, mostly just to be contrary.

“Ghost will, then.”

Soap had no retaliation for that because LT absolutely would. Actually, he was a little surprised that Ghost hadn’t already. 

“Might be better to just come clean about wherever it is you run off to,” Gaz continued, slanting a look at the Scot even as he pushed food around his plate. 

Soap huffed. Gaz was… not exactly wrong. But it still wasn’t a good idea. Not even close. He needed to figure out how to tell Price without the captain flipping. 

“Don’t suppose you’re offering t’ help,” he grumbled, side-eyeing the other sergeant. 

Gaz perked up a little, taking a moment to think as he chewed. “Might be,” he mumbled. “For an interesting enough reason.”

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. 

But Gaz was right - this was going to blow up in his face sooner or later. He could mitigate the damage with a bit of help and a fair bit of luck. 

“Swear you won’t tell.” Soap held his gaze, drawing himself up a little straighter. 

Gaz looked briefly taken aback before he nodded, slow and serious. “I swear.”

Soap nodded, took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. (Well. Not the beginning, because he still refused to admit that he’d been… temporarily discombobulated.) 

After the expected razzing (and only a bit of shoving), Gaz stood to clear his place, Soap scrambling a little after him. A quick look around and the two went back to Gaz’s bunk to talk quietly. 

“Right,” Gaz muttered, gaze darting around as he plotted. “I want to meet her.”

Soap puffed up, eyes narrowing. “Why?” 

“To see what she’s like for myself.” Gaz shoved him a bit with a little huff. “No offense, mate, but you’re a bit smitten.” 

Soap opened his mouth to protest… and then shut it again. Because. Well. He couldn’t, in fact, protest that. He swallowed.

“This is not a good idea,” Gaz muttered. “Got a couple days off coming up, yeah?”

“Aye,” Soap agreed slowly.

“We’ll both go.”

Soap blinked at that. “Shifted?”

“Well, you said she takes you in, thinks you’re a dog.” Gaz shrugged. “Probably won’t think any different of me.”

This was truly a terrible idea. Part of Soap rebelled at the idea for no good reason, too - you were his, and he didn’t want to share you. But he’d have to. Especially if he ever wanted more with you than the stolen moments as a wolf. 

“Right.” Soap breathed in deep. “We’ll try it.”

–

You almost didn’t even bother to get out of bed. But it was after noon, and you needed to drink something at least. Even if the very thought of food made you nauseous. So you shoved yourself out of bed, hands shaking only a little as you put the kettle on. 

A soft woof at the back door nearly made you drop your mug, and you fumbled for a few moments before you saved it and put it on the counter instead. 

There was a dog at your door. No, scratch that. The dog was at your door. With a friend. 

“What the fuck.” You stared at the two dogs, blinking stupidly. The second dog was just as big, medium gray with the classic black saddle and tail tip. His snout was black too. Almost like a German shepherd, but in gray instead of tan. 

Your dog, the red and white one, woofed again, tail wagging. Almost on autopilot, you opened the door for him. 

“What the fuck,” you said again, watching as the second dog came in too, just as easy and confident as your dog. “Damn I wish you could talk. Is this your buddy? Do you live together? Have you both escaped the same yard? Or did you steal someone else’s dog?” You rubbed a hand over your eyes.

The kettle started whistling, and you trudged over to it to pour hot water for tea. Your dog kept pace with you, sniffing your legs and then your belly and whining softly at you. 

“I dunno what you want,” you said, one hand drifting down to his head, rubbing a soft ear between your fingers. “It’s not dinner time. …I think.” You frowned, squinting at your phone. “No. Too early.”

The other dog kept a little more distance but did sniff your hand and accepted a couple gentle head pats. Tea helped you feel more steady, and your dog hopped up on the couch to curl up next to you. 

“You can relax,” you told the other dog quietly, eyelids already drooping again. “You’re safe here. I’ll make dinner for you later.” 

The other dog laid down on the floor a couple feet from the two of you, head resting on his paws, eyes open and trained on you. You didn’t take it personally, just huffing a soft laugh and closing your eyes the rest of the way. 

“It’s too bad you have to go,” you muttered, hand resting on your dog’s head, which was pillowed on your thigh. “Nice to have some company.” 

Your dog sighed, warm even through your clothes, and wiggled even closer to you. An afternoon nap was definitely in order today. 

You woke to the sound of grumbling. Not quite a growl but not exactly a happy sound either. You blinked a few times, lifting your head (ow) to try to figure out what was going on.

Your dog was perched over you, head low, grumbling a little at the other dog. Who huffed right back at him, ears flicking forward and back. 

“No fighting,” you mumbled, almost reflexively. “Or take it outside or something.” 

Both dogs paused, looking at you, and your dog sniffed your face before licking your nose. You blew out a breath that was almost a laugh. 

“C’mon, get off. I’ll cook.” You pushed the dog, more or less gently, until he hopped off the couch. 

Cooking didn’t make you nauseous, at least. Even if you still had very little interest in eating anything. 

The two dogs seemed to have given up on whatever spat woke you up, for which you were grateful. Your house was not at all dog proofed, and you were amazed nothing had been broken yet. 

You forced yourself to shower, because you needed to and it was easier to motivate yourself to do something with the dog around. Then you sat up for a little while reading, your dog curled up on your bed with his head resting on your stomach, the other dog laying on the floor near the foot of the bed.

You were honestly surprised when you woke up and they were both still there, two heads popping up as soon as you sat up. 

You finally felt better this morning. You’d slept better, too. You actually ate after you cooked and spent a bit of time outside, watching the two tear around the yard chasing each other. 

But when your dog stopped next to you just as the sun began to sink, you knew.

“Time to go back home?” you asked him, smoothing down his fur from his playtime. He whined softly, wiggling closer to you and resting his head on your knee to look up at you with those big blue puppy eyes. “Well. You be careful.” You gently smoothed your fingers over the top of his head, smiling a little even though it hurt. “I don’t wanna hear about any dogs getting run over, okay?” 

He huffed out through his nose, his eyes closing as he leaned his weight into your legs. You chuckled, patting his head before removing your hand entirely.

“Okay. Go on, before it gets dark.” 

He looked up at you, almost pleading, before a soft bark from the other dog got his attention. His ears half-lowered, and he licked your hand once before he backed off and then darted off to join his friend. 

The two of them were gone from your sight in moments.

You didn’t move until the cold forced you to go back inside. 

–

“You,” Gaz started once they were both back in human skin, “are so fucked.” 

Soap slumped. “Donnae remind me,” he groaned. 

“So fucked,” Gaz continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Pretty sure your wolf has all but actually claimed her.”

Soap rubbed a hand over his face, because Gaz wasn’t wrong. But you had no idea he was a shifter, and he couldn’t tell you without Price’s permission. Which meant he also couldn’t pursue anything with you until you knew. It was… a situation. Definitely. 

“Lucky for you, I have an idea.”

Soap perked up at that, hopeful. “Aye?”

Gaz had already grabbed his phone, typing quickly. “We can’t tell her,” he said, gaze focused on his phone. “But we can give her a nudge in the right direction.”

Soap leaned over, trying to see what Gaz was doing. “Gaz,” he said slowly, confused. “Why are ye texting yer mum?” 

“Trust me.” Gaz flashed him a grin that was mostly teeth. “She had to woo Dad. She can help.” 

This was probably a terrible idea. But. It was better than anything he’d come up with. So Soap shrugged, letting it happen. 

“Now, for the other part of this plan.” Gaz grinned as he dug through Soap’s things, ignoring the Scot’s grumbling, until he found the collar. (Soap had drawn the short stick and had been stuck for an op. The collar had been to make him look less threatening. Fortunately for everyone involved, it had been a short op.) 

“No.” Soap crossed his arms over his chest, glowering.

“Just wait,” Gaz soothed, grinning like the looney he clearly was. “I have a plan.” 

Soap groaned. This was going to end terribly. For him.

–

There was a box on your front porch. You blinked at it, confused. You hadn’t ordered anything. And yet your name was written on top of the box, with no shipping address or return address. 

You brought the box inside. Foolish, maybe, but it was too cold outside to stand out there and go through the box. 

A handful of books filled the box most of the way, with a letter on top. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you opened the letter first.

Keep an open mind while you read the books. There’s some very good information here. Things will make sense sooner or later.

It was unsigned, of course. You huffed. If this was a prank, it was pretty elaborate. 

So you pulled out the books, examining them one at a time. The first one looked hand-written, with no information on the title page. The second book was labeled, simply, Etiquette. The other two books were no better, giving you very little information.

It took a good five pages for you to figure out the handwritten book was about werewolves. Or wolf-shifters? The terminology became confusing very quickly. 

It felt like a prank.  You were sure someone was going to pop up and prank you, maybe record your reaction. Who, you didn’t know, but still. The feeling persisted.

Because this? This was crazy. This was an entire secret society, a subset of the population that lived an entire secret life. It was impossible.

And yet you kept reading.

But you forced yourself to stop and walk away after you finished that book, having barely moved. You needed to eat. You needed to drink something. You needed a damn reality check. 

Even so… Even so, you came back to the books after a meal and a walk. The little pile taunted you until you swore and swiped up the next book. 

Which was all on shifter-people etiquette. Apparently. How they interacted with each other, how they interacted with humans. 

Even if this did turn out to be a prank of some kind, it was an incredibly elaborate one. 

One you couldn’t get out of your head. 

It took a few days to read through all the books in between work, but you did. And then you went back and took a few notes, because some things were just… too interesting. Too unique. 

You did keep the books in your bedroom. Not that you had a lot of company (or any), but it felt… wrong. To leave them out on display. So you hid them away. 

You couldn’t explain why, but it felt like the right thing to do. 

Now if only you could figure out why. 

It was another three weeks until the dog came back, once again arriving at your house at almost the same time you did. He looked the same as always, tail wagging, jaws parted in a canine grin.

Except he was wearing a collar.

“Oh so your person does have a collar for you,” you grumbled, opening the front door for him. “Look at that, it’s practically a miracle.” 

He boofed softly at you before running around to sniff everything, clearly trying to get caught up on whatever he’d missed. Which was… not much. A spill of take-out one night, a few naps on the couch, and late dinners after work. 

Typical for you.

“Alright, c’mere pup.” You tapped your thigh, pulling your phone out. “Let me call your person to come get you.”

The dog drooped a little but obediently walked back to you, sitting patiently while you dialed the number you found on his tag. “Soap,” you mumbled, examining the tag. “Who the hell names their dog Soap?” 

“Yes?” The man who answered the phone sounded brusque, borderline rude. You blinked, caught off guard.

“Um, hi. I have your dog? He’s been wandering over to my place recently and, um, I figured you might want to come get him?” Your eyes slammed shut. You hadn’t meant to make that a question. Really. Your people skills were seriously awful. 

There was silence, then a sigh. “Soap?” he asked, dry with a hint of humor.

“Yeah.” You looked down at the dog, absently petting the top of his head.

“Right. I’ll be there soon. What’s the address?”

You hesitated for a moment before rattling it off. Well. He probably wasn’t secretly an axe murderer with such a sweet dog. 

There was a soft grunt as he confirmed the address. “It’ll be about an hour,” he said. And hung up.

“Well,” you muttered, looking down at your phone, “rude.” 

Soap whined at you softly, pawing at you gently until you resumed petting him. 

“Guess we’ve got an hour, buddy.” You stretched and stepped around Soap into the kitchen. “I need food or I’m gonna be hangry when your person gets here, and nobody wants that.” You slanted a look at him. “I assume you want food?” 

Soap’s tail started wagging, even though he sat patiently in his normal spot out of the way.

“Yeah, okay.” You huffed a little laugh and started pulling out ingredients. “You were gone for a while, buddy. I was worried about you.” You didn’t expect any kind of reaction from the dog.

Which is why you startled when he pressed his nose to your thigh with another soft whine. You looked down to find those big blue eyes focused on you, ears half-down, tail wagging slowly. 

“Aw, I’m not mad at you,” you murmured, leaning over a bit to scratch under his chin. “You’re okay, cutie.”

His tail thumped faster against the ground, and you had to spend a minute petting him before you could wash your hands and continue with dinner prep. 

Somehow, the knock on your door still caught you off-guard, enough that your fork clattered back to your dish. You looked at Soap, who looked back at you, ears up. Then you nodded once and stood, heading to the door. 

You opened the door and blinked up at the man on the other side. Muttonchops, floppy hat, stern-set mouth. Big. Broad. 

Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

“You called about Soap,” he said, voice brusque, though his tone gentled a little. He also didn’t make a move towards you, which helped a bit. 

“I did.” You pulled the door open further, turning to call Soap. Only to find him already right behind you. “Here he is.”

“You’re in trouble,” he said, gaze focused on Soap. “Come on.” 

But Soap took two steps forward until he could press against your legs, and stopped there. Leaning a good bit of his weight onto you. 

The man blinked once, one eyebrow raising as he looked between you and the dog slowly, something almost calculating in his gaze. 

“What are you doing?” you asked Soap, exasperated. “This is your person, you’re supposed to go home with him. Silly pup.” 

“He’s stubborn when he gets an idea in his head.” The man planted his hands on his hips, looking down at Soap. “How long has he been runnin’ up here?” 

“Oh, a few months.” Something about his tone made you nervous, made you shift your weight. But with Soap still leaning against you, the move ended up almost sending you falling over, and only a quick grab of the doorframe saved you any dignity at all. 

The man sighed, shaking his head briefly. “Stubborn,” he muttered again. “Should get Simon out here.”

Curiosity burned at you, but you kept your mouth shut. Instead you nudged Soap, trying to get him to leave your side. 

“Go on,” you encouraged him. “Don’t you wanna go home?” 

The man’s eyes sharpened suddenly. “What did you say?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Don’t you wanna go home?” You repeated, only a little squeaky. 

Soap pressed harder into your legs, shoving his head under your free hand. And then the man sighed noisily. 

“Right,” he grunted. “Can I come in?” 

“Why?” You stiffened, hand gripping the doorframe tighter. 

“We need to have a conversation and I’d rather not do it out the door.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious. This was weird. This was definitely weird. You looked down at Soap, who was still pressed up against you, and back to the man. A little lightbulb went off finally.

“Is this about those books?”

“Books?” He frowned and then shook his head. “We should discuss this inside.” 

A little reluctantly, you let him inside. Soap stayed right next to you, going so far as to hop up onto the couch next to you. 

“Right,” the man muttered, rubbing a hand briefly over his chin. “What books are you talking about?” 

“I got these books, they were in a box on my porch. I thought it was a hoax at first, but…” You stood and jogged back to your room, grabbing the first book, the handwritten one. “I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

He took the book and flipped through the first few pages before he lifted his gaze to Soap. “Did you have something to do with this?” 

Soap huffed and rested his head across your lap as soon as you sat down again. 

That, more than anything, solidified things in your mind. Soap wasn’t just a dog. Soap was a shifter, of some kind. And undoubtedly this other person was as well. 

“Huh.” You looked down at Soap, examining him more carefully. “Guess that’s why you kept finding your way back here, even when you shouldn’t have been able to.” 

He just blinked up at you, wiggling a little closer and pushing his nose under your hand. 

“What do you know?”

You pulled your gaze back to the man across from you, chewing on your lip for a moment. “Honestly? Just what’s in the books. And like I said, I thought they were a hoax at first. I’m still…” You trailed off, not sure exactly how to express what you were feeling. 

He nodded, looking pensively between you and Soap. “Normally, we don’t tell others.” He paused to let that sink in, and you grimaced. “But this one found a way around that.” 

Soap’s tail thumped against the couch. Clearly, he was totally unrepentant. 

“So.” The man leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs. “Let’s start from the beginning.” 

It took hours to cover it all. Price, as you finally learned his name, was more or less patient with you. Less so with Soap. 

The two finally left, with promises to bring you to base tomorrow. (Because, that’s right, Soap was apparently military, something you never would have guessed. And apparently Soap deciding you were his person got you some benefits? Honestly you were very unsure about all of this but Soap had given you such big imploring eyes that you’d caved.) 

You would have expected that you’d be up for hours longer, pacing, working through everything in your head. Honestly, though, you just had energy for a shower, and then collapsed into bed and slept hard. Clearly, you already had too much on your mind. 

You were still scrambling when the knock came at your door in the morning. “Hang on!” you shouted, hopping on one foot to shove your other shoe on, grabbing your purse and making sure you had everything you needed. 

Not that you really knew what you’d need, but. You had the basics, at least. 

Finally, you yanked the door open to an amused Price standing on your doorstep. Thankfully, he didn’t comment, just raised an eyebrow at you.

The drive was silent. Price kept his gaze on the road, sparing you only the occasional glance. For your part, you were too nervous to try talking. 

When Price turned down a long drive to a fenced area, you swallowed hard. 

“Nervous?” He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

“A bit,” you admitted, knee bouncing so at least you had some kind of outlet for your nerves. 

“Relax.” He slanted a look at you as he slowed near the gate guard. “You’ll be fine.” 

You swallowed again, knee bouncing as the guard lifted the gate and let the two of you through. Price continued down the road and pulled into a parking spot, cutting the engine.

You’d known, sort of, that this base was here. People talked about it - that base out of town. Sometimes military men came through to the store or the bar, although you weren’t the closest town to the base. 

But being here was something else entirely. You had no idea it was so big - lots of land, all enclosed. Multiple buildings spread out around the area, and you could see a group of runners off in the distance. 

“This way,” Price grunted, jerking you from your thoughts. You turned and hurried to follow him inside, fingers twisting around each other, nearly jogging to keep up with his longer strides. He stopped in front of a door, pushing it open and stepping inside. A little more slowly, you followed. 

Another man was standing in the middle of the room, mohawk mussed like he’d been running his hands through it, shoulders tense. You almost asked… but you met his gaze, eyes wide. 

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but smile, still holding his gaze, those beautiful blue eyes fixed on you. “Your eyes really don’t change at all, do they?” 

“Nah.” He smiled slowly, taking a step closer to you. 

“Still want me to call you Soap?” You smiled, tipping your chin. 

“Or Johnny.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “Ye can call me anythin’ ye want, lovely.”

You warmed at the easy affection, but you didn’t drop his gaze. “Can I…?” You lifted one hand slowly, a little cautious. 

Apparently that was all he needed, though, because he stepped straight into your space and wrapped himself around you. You blinked and then snorted, your hand settling at the back of his head to rub against the hairs there. 

“Personal space optional?” you teased, though you made absolutely no move away from him.

“What’s yours is mine,” he quipped, squeezing you affectionately. 

“Sergeant.” Price sounded exasperated, and you pulled back enough to peek at him, suddenly worried again. 

“This is why he didn’t let me drive to get you,” Soap said, unrepentant, shifting his grip on you enough to smooth one hand up and down your back. “Didnae think ah’d come back.”

“No,” Price said, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d come back until tomorrow.” 

You couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped you at that, and you relaxed again. “So, what now?”

Price huffed something akin to a laugh. “You get to meet the other two, then we do some paperwork.” 

“Speakin’ of.” Soap nodded to the door, grinning. Price heaved a sigh but walked over and pulled the door open. 

“Gaz.” He stepped aside to let the other young man in, and you blinked at him. He gave you a quick smile and a little wave, though he gave you a bit of space. Something about him seemed… familiar. 

“Did you come with Johnny one day?” You blinked, putting the pieces together. He kept the same bit of distance the other dog had, the same kind of reserved politeness. 

Gaz blinked twice, lips parting in surprise. “How’d you guess?”

“I mean, it’s not that big of a leap.” You shrugged, ignoring Soap chuckling. 

“We’ll talk about that later,” Price grumbled, shooting Gaz a look. Whoops. 

Another man slipped into the room, almost as big as Price, wearing a skull mask. You blinked, a little intimidated. 

“LT is a big softie,” Soap whispered in your ear, swaying the two of you side to side just a little. 

“Johnny.” The big one sounded vaguely amused but also disapproving. 

“This is Ghost,” Price said, since clearly he was the only one in the room with manners. 

You twisted in Soap’s arms to look at him, lifting your hand in a little wave. You almost felt awkward with Soap still hanging off of you, but you were also comfortable. Sure, he wasn’t a dog, but still. This felt normal. 

“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut, eh, Johnny?” Ghost sounded more amused than anything, though. 

“I only told Gaz,” Soap defended, squeezing you a little tighter. 

“Yes, about that.” Price raised one eyebrow at Gaz. Who immediately buckled and spilled the whole plot - the two of them going to visit you, and then Gaz writing his mum. 

“So those books were from your mum?” You’d all settled into chairs or the couch. (You’d had to swat Soap a few times when he tried to pull you down to sit in his lap.) 

“Must be.” He shrugged. “You still have ‘em, yeah?”

“Of course, they’re at home. I’ll bring them next time.” 

He shrugged. “No rush. We’ve got time.”

And you did, you realized with a blink. With Soap crowded up against your side, the other three ranged around the room, you realized you had plenty of time. Now that you weren’t just waiting on a surprise visit from a dog. You smiled to yourself and leaned into Soap. 

Yeah. You could get used to this. 

[velvetchrry]

━━━━ THISTLE AND BARLEY

pairing: johnny “soap” mactavish x f!reader

2.7k. during a solo trip to the scottish highlands, you find yourself transported back in time.

The chill of the evening air prickles along your skin. The spring breeze envelopes you, circling her prey. You are a rabbit, and she is a fox. She waits, patiently, until you are unsuspecting, and then sinks her sharp teeth into your soft skin.

It seems like you are the only one to really feel the chill — but you are an outsider. An outlander. A stranger. There are a few other foreigners here like you, but mostly it’s the residents of Inverness.

You get some relief when passing by one of the many bonfires littered through this valley. The entire night sky was alight — but not with stars. No, those are almost impossible to see compared to last night. There are enough fires lit in the valley to cause light pollution to seep through to the night sky.

Everyone here is clothed in a flowy, bohemian white gown. A beautiful crown of flowers rests atop your heads. Beltane. The official start to summer.

You didn’t know you would be here tonight until the last minute. The hostess of your bed and breakfast was the one who mentioned it to you this morning. It’s your last night in the Highlands so you figured, why not? Your solo travel adventures are about to come to an end. What’s one more night with no sleep?

A lit cave sparks your interest. It’s small, basically just an opening that goes 8 feet or so, but it’s lit up with candles everywhere. They're arranged in some sort of pattern, but you can’t make out exactly what it’s supposed to be. The air in here is even colder somehow — settling in your bones. You cover your upper body with your arms as best you can, unable to stop yourself from entering this ethereal place.

When you get closer to the wall, you see it has something painted on it. The paint is hard to see, even with the candle light. The same pattern is marked on the cave wall that the candles make on the floor. It’s old, flaking. You let out a breath and you watch as it rises in front of you.

The wall is shifting. Shimmering. It looks celestial. Like the night sky. You rub your eyes. It must be the heat from all the candles.

You turn around to leave but are startled by the sight of a woman at the entrance. You recognize her — it’s the owner of your bed and breakfast. A greeting almost escapes your lips but when you catch the look on her face you can’t seem to speak. Mouth hanging open, you just stare at her. She glides to you effortlessly, lithe for her age. Her fingertips are black as they reach out to you. It happens in slow motion. At least, that’s how it feels. She slowly reaches out to touch you and you stumble back, almost into the wall, just out of range.

“Yer where yer meant to be lass. Remember that. You have to remember. This was destined for ya.”

You shake your head to try and get a grasp on what she’s saying to you. Your tongue is suddenly heavy in your mouth. “Wh.. what?”

“Goodbye, lass.”

Before you can open your mouth to speak, she pushes against your shoulder with a firm hand. You stumble, and brace for impact into the cave wall.

Falling. You’re falling. It’s black.

There is no cave wall.

“D’ya think she’s a witch?”

It's morning, that much you can tell. Birdsong flits down to your ears and the sun is bright against your closed eyes. The grass caresses your body.

“Dinnae think so. Not sure what to make of ‘er.”

You try to remember what happened last. How you got here. Where you are. You brain is fuzzy, feeling like you’re suffering from a hangover. Wait — that’s not right, you didn’t drink last night.

“Let’s just leave her.”

Beltane. The celebration. That’s where you were. In the valley near Inverness. You were wandering. There were fires. Dancing.

“No. We’ll bring her to the castle.”

The cave. Oh god, the lady from your bed and breakfast. She followed you, she pushed you. She said something to you. What did she say to you?

“Yer off yer fuckin’ head, boy. What’ll yer Da say?”

You have to get out of here. You are supposed to be out of here. Your flight out of Inverness leaves this morning. How did this happen?

“I cannae just leave her here.”

Sunlight floods your eyes when they shoot open. A groan escapes you, and you cover your head with your forearm. You struggle to fully sit up, headache assaulting all of your senses.

“Aye, lassie? Ye hearin’ me?”

You rub your eyes and look up to who’s speaking to you. It’s a man in his late 20s. He’s wearing a kilt and it isn’t until you look around that you notice almost all of them are. You saw a few men in Inverness wearing kilts but, not quite like this. They look like an authentic historical recreation.

He’s… handsome. The one talking to you. Pools of blue eyes stare into yours, a hand reaching out to you. You gingerly take it, and he helps you stand. “Ye got a name, hen?”

Still in a bit of a daze, you give him your name and take a second to get your bearings. The cave you remember from last night is just behind you — but there are no candles, or paint on the walls. There’s no evidence anyone was in this valley last night. Where are the pits and scorch marks from the bonfires? What about the string lights that were strung along the tree trunks? Even the grass doesn't look like it’s been trampled on by a hundred or so pairs of feet.

“I’m Johnny of Clan MacTavish. May I ask, what’re ye doin’ out here hen?”

You swallow thickly. “I.. erm.. it’s Beltane. The party?”

“A druid.” The tallest one says. He’s one of the ones not in a kilt and has a deep British accent.

“Ah,” Johnny’s face lights up in understanding. “And yer out here alone?”

“I… uh…” you stutter. You’re not sure what’s happening. They really don't know about the party? Most of them look like and sound locals. “I guess… I am?”

“Where ya from?” one of them asks. He’s got a stout build and a thick set of facial hair.

“Well, I’m an American… I’m just… just traveling…”

You pause when you notice their interests peak.

“Which colony ye fae?” someone asks.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Colony?”

“She’s a British spy!” another shouts. You flinch.

“Ah, she’s no bloody spy. Look at her,” the tall one from earlier says. “Aye, we never had any spies like her before,” the stout one agrees, coming up to Johnny’s side.

Johnny hums. “I cannae leave you out here to fend on your own, spy or no. Can we take ye somewhere?”

You pause for a moment before speaking. “Inverness?”

Johnny nods and his men grumble, but go back to their horses. He motions for you to follow. You watch as he struggles to get up, wincing in pain and almost falling. The tall one comes up behind you and grabs you by the hips — lifting you ontop of Johnny’s horse and causing you to yelp. “Up ya go.”

Your body goes rigid as Johnny reaches around you to grab the reins. “Ain’t gonna hurt ye, hen,” he murmurs. He kicks the horse into gear and you’re off, still wondering what’s happening to you.

Maybe someone is filming a movie nearby.

You don’t have much of anything to hold onto, so you keep your legs clenched, body stiffened. Johnny notices this, wrapping his big arm around your waist for support. The group keeps a brisk pace, chatting with one another about things you’re unfamiliar with.

Panic starts to seep in when you see the River Ness, which bysects the city. “Where are we? Where’s the city? It should be visible by now.”

“Yer looking straight at it.”

Your breathing picks up rapidly and you try to focus on not hyperventilating. This was not the Inverness you had been in just yesterday.

“No…,” your voice is a soft whisper. “No, no, no… this can’t be right.”

The horse comes to a stop as Johnny tugs on the reins. “What is it, lass?”

The men start to grumble around you as the rest of the group comes to a stop. “Where’s the city? The buildings? Where’s the airport? This is… this isn’t right.”

“I dinnae ken what yer talking about hen but… that’s Inverness up ahead,” Johnny says softly to you.

“I… I don’t…” you stutter.

“Aye, what's goin’ on? Why are we stoppin’?” someone shouts out.

Johnny shoots him a look and walks his horse a little ways up to give you two a bit more privacy. Tears start to well in your eyes, and your nose has that familiar prickle like it’s gonna start running. You’re afraid to ask, but you have to know. “What year is it?”

If Johnny is confused why you’re asking, he doesn't show it. He speaks in a matter of fact tone when he says, “1724.”

No… how could this happen? You can just jump back in time 300 years… this is impossible. This can’t be real… this can’t be. But you saw — you saw right where Inverness is supposed to be. You recognized the landmarks. And it’s just… not right.

“Do ye still want to go to Inverness, hen?”

What are you going to do? There’s no aiport, hell — the America you’d go back to wouldn’t be the same. And what, do you hop on a boat for months and go back to a different world?

“I… I…” You suck in a shaky breath. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” you finally admit.

“I’ll take ye to the Castle,” Johnny states confidently. “Give ya a chance to figure out where yer going.”

A single tear slips down your cheek. Johnny calls out to the group that you’re headed to the Castle and you tune out the cries of them asking why the hell you were going with instead dumping you in Inverness.

The Scottish countryside passes by in a teary-eyed blur. It’s like you blinked and suddenly night is falling, the sun almost completely dipped below the horizon. Your stomach aches with hunger. You’re in an unfamiliar area, surrounded on all sides by trees. Johnny slows his horse, and the rest of his party follows suit. The tall one from earlier glides off his horse with ease and walks over to pick you up off of Johnny’s horse. You watch in a daze as he also gives Johnny a hand, as he struggles to get off his horse.

You look up at him after he is back on the ground. His white shirt seeps red near his bicep. You're not sure how you didn't notice it before. It’s got a brownish tinge to it now.

“You’re hurt.”

He waves you off. “Ach, jus’ a scratch, bonnie.”

He doesn’t stop you, just observes as you walk over to his side. You gently pry back the sticky fabric of his shirt. There’s a decent sized gash through his arm, red and angry. It looks like the start of an infection; like it might need stitches.

“It's not just a scratch if you need help on and off your horse. Did you clean this after it happened?”

“Clean it?” he tilts his head slightly as he asks.

“Like, rinse it? With water, at least?”

He shakes his head no.

You bite your lip as you contemplate. “Does… er… does anyone have any alcohol?”

Some of the guys burst into laughter. One hands you a flask. “Dinnae think you’d be one to get pished, lassie!” he exclaims.

You ignore him and get to work, ripping the bottom of your flimsy white dress. It tears easily under your fingers. You push it into Johnny’s hands and he holds onto the fabric unquestioningly while you uncork the flask with your teeth and again peel back his shirt.

“This is gonna sting a little,” you admit quietly.

He winces and grunts as you pour the alcohol down his arm, the men breaking out into cries of protest at the loss of booze. You place the cork back in the bottle and drop it on the ground. The man who gave you the flask quickly swipes it away from you before you can waste anymore.

Johnny places the ripped fabric of your dress in your outstretched hands. You tie it tightly around his arm, and while he grimaces, he doesn’t complain. You give him a gentle pat on the shoulder when you’re done.

“You’re probably gonna need stitches, but that should hold you over for a bit. Hopefully it’s not infected, or you're gonna need something stronger than alcohol.”

A voice from directly behind you makes you jump out of your skin. “Told ya she was a druid,” the tall one says.

“Aye,” Johnny agrees. “We could use someone with yer skills at the Castle. Our druid can’t…. well she ain’t as nimble as she used ta be.”

You aren’t sure what to say to that so you watch silently as the boys set up camp for the evening. “We’ll reach home come morning,” Johnny tells you at one point. The sun is gone now, the temperature dropping rapidly. The Beltane gown provides no heat and you scoot as close to the fire as you can without singeing off your eyebrows. You ditched your flower crown long ago.

The tall one hands you some food and you eat quietly while the rest of them chat around you. The stout one from earlier and the tall one sit next to each other and observe you, talking lowly to themselves. You try your best to ignore them.

Johnny walks over and sits next to you. “You should get some sleep, hen.” He’s close enough to you that his kilt brushes against your leg.

You swallow thickly and gnaw on your lip. You nod your head in agreement but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep tonight. The reality is, these men are strangers in a strange time — even if one of them has been showing you kindness.

Johnny moves even closer to you and you can’t help but tense up. He's maneuvering his kilt around, tugging on the end of it.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my plaid loose. Cannae let ye sleep in just that shift. You’ll freeze.”

You cross your arms, trying to keep in more warmth. “I’ll be fine.”

He covers your shoulders and instantly you feel warmer. A scent of musk and pine surrounds you, earthy and male. He opens his arm to you, waiting for you to lean against him.

“I meant what I said bonnie, I won’t hurt ye. I’m just keeping warm. Yer teeth chattering is making my bones rattle in my head.”

You can’t help the small chuckle that you produce hearing him tease you a little bit. It serves to make you feel even more comfortable around him. You nod and move in further under the plaid, while he wraps his good arm around you and rubs up and down your arm.

“Yer frozen solid,” he murmurs. “Why ye out here in just a shift anyway?”

“It was… uh… apart of the festival.”

He hums in response, still rubbing you arm up and down, up and down. You find a comfortable silence, leaning against him and listening to the conversations around you. Johnny adds his two cents every so often but mostly just sits beside you quietly.

You can feel your eyelids start to get droopy, your head nodding off every so often, but you fight it. You fight the urge to fall asleep. It’s so much harder now that you're warm. So hard when you’re feeling a small bit of comfort from the touch you're receiving.

You don’t even realize your head is on Johnny’s shoulder right away. You start to sit up, but he grips you a little more firmly to his side.

“Sleep, lassie. Yer safe with me.”

[puff0o0]

I love these self aware stuff😖 can we get one for soap?

♡ Self aware! Soap is no different from Price. He makes it known and doesn't try to hide it. He also tries his hardest to make you laugh through his banters with Ghost or his conversations with Laswell

♡ If you're someone who couldn't get his skin, you somehow managed to get it anyway?? It just randomly appeared in your operators. You didn't buy any of his skins so why are they all there?? Oh well, you weren't going to complain

♡ His voicelines were non-stop flirts towards you and you didn't even realize it. He's even made a game out of it, making them worse and worse to see if you'd finally catch onto them

♡ He pays attention to how you're feeling. Even though you're both a screen apart, he somehow always manages to know your mood just based on how you played or your facial expression.

♡ If you're sad or upset, he makes sure to find ways to make you laugh, even if it's forcing a weird glitch on his character that made him look ridiculous and popping up funny videos on social media sites

[reveluving]

don’t know if you’re still taking shy!wife requests but if you are what about soap x shy!wife where he sits her in front of a mirror and makes her watch as he plays with her 🤭 but he stops if she looks away

WHY ARE YOU ENCOURAGING FICTIONAL ME’S ULTIMATE KINK UNPROVOKED

Includes: mirror kink (minors DNI!), petnames ('baby'), fingering/fingerfu~cking, thigh-slapping, praising, teasing, edging, mentions of overstimulation

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

It should’ve hit you why he had a sinister smile when you suggested adding a large mirror in the bedroom. Just an innocent idea, you wanted to make the space look bigger.

That was until he came up behind you, toying with the hem of your shirt as he purred.

“Y’don’t possibly think we wouldn’t have some fun with it, did’ya? Just imagine; holdin’ ya in front o’me, appreciatin’ these sweet curves with nothin’ coverin’ ya.”

Your wide eyes weren’t from mortification or anything the like, far from it. But it did make your heart jump like crazy. You were already a little ‘skittish’ at the thought of fully exposing yourself under a bright light, though Johnny, bless your husband, never giving up in showing you what he sees in you, body and soul.

And as he kissed your shoulder, judging by your silence, he knew he got you.

He was leaning against the headboard, his legs spread for you to occupy—handing the spotlight for you to dominate as he worked his wonders in the background.

He had a knack for slapping your thighs whenever his touch jolted you into covering your legs. Not painful ones, not unless you were feeling a tad naughty, just surprising ones, but a warning nonetheless. It contrasted with the way he was kissing you, alternating between soft kisses, the ones where he’d leave ticklish smooches on the corner of your lips, and then sliding his tongue against yours, a sign that he could barely conceal his patience.

Sighing in appreciation each time he spreads your lips with his middle and ring finger.

Murmuring praises against your neck in between his kisses.

“Ah-ah. You know the rules.”

“Y’hear that? Fuck. Y’already clenchin’, baby? Just one finger?”

“Eyes on the mirror, baby. That’s it. Such pretty eyes lookin’ a’me.”

“Can y’feel me throbbin’ against ya? If I just… roll my hips… Oh, y’like that, don’t ya?”

The expressiveness of your husband, his eagerness to please you while making you watch yourself didn’t help. Not especially when he doesn’t hesitate to stop, to tease you further whenever your eyes roll back to the point of nearly closing them.

His middle finger was soaked, and so was his ring. The band glistened in the dim light, having played and plunged in your tight heat like his life depended on it so he could hear your whines grow at a higher pitch whenever he’d pick up the pace. Stopping as soon as you closed your eyes whenever it got too much, too good.

His ring played a huge part in it at the start, feeling you jump each time he pressed the initially cold metal against your burning skin.

He found your attempts to wriggle away from his adorable, with one of his muscular arms folding your chest. All while his hand switched between kneading your beautiful breasts and digging his fingers into your soft skin, just enough for you to feel them the next day.

Your voice came out in a long, pathetic whine before you forced out his name, “Nghhh—Johnny…”

Music to his fucking ears.

His fingers were relentless, continuing to rub your clit feverishly, even when you were already three orgasms in. There was something about the way your lips parted every time, or how addictive how juices felt as they smeared most of his fingers or how ruined the sheets were.

Just how he liked it.

And unless you used your safeword anytime soon, he was already planning on laying you on your back, longing for a taste. The mess you had made on his fingers was just the start, shamelessly licking them off by your ear, and with a pop while locking his eyes with your glassy, fucked-out ones in the mirror.

He wanted, hell, he needed to taste you. The real deal. To flick your clit with his tongue, to tease along your lips from your tight hole and up, to nose at the stain you had left on the blankets from just his fingers stretching you.

Oh, his cock swelled just as his mind grew lighthearted just at the very thought of it.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 2 - Voyeurism

Ghost x Soap x F!Reader - 2.3k (on ao3)

summary: Ghost enlists you to help him give his pup a good show. (Soap's POV)

cw: dom!ghost, puppy play, man in a dog cage, consensual but surprise voyeurism (for you), cock cage, ring gag

“Stay,” Ghost ordered, voice pitched low and quiet, the same way he talks over the comms. Johnny’s reaction is immediate, shoulders relaxing as he sinks back on his haunches in the dog crate Simon had locked him in. “Quiet now, hear? Don’t want you scarin’ off the bird.”

Johnny nods, carefully keeping his expression flat instead of annoyed, the wide o-ring gag making it so that even the slightest sound he makes will be impossible to muffle. This is his least favorite part of the punishment – Johnny's vocal, loves being vocal, but Simon loves to make him really struggle when he's in trouble. There hasn't been a punishment yet where Simon hasn't either gagged him or gotten mean about any noise he makes ungagged. 

(It would be easier to hate if Simon's mean didn't make Johnny melt, make his cock rock hard and leaky, but Johnny's not really in denial about what he is - being a slut usually gets him fucked until he's seeing stars, and it's even better if Ghost whips his ass raw beforehand.)

Ghost gives him another long, assessing look, and Johnny just barely holds himself back from shifting and earning himself even more discomfort before the fun can start. A moment later Ghost steps away, one last don’t fuck with me look sent to Johnny before he steps to open the door. 

You’d arrived several minutes ago but hadn’t been let in. Johnny’s sure Simon made up some flimsy excuse to keep you out while he trussed him up in his gear, but he’d been a bit preoccupied with getting his cock crammed into a tight cage to really care.

He can just catch a glimpse of you when Ghost opens the door, a long expanse of bare legs and a skirt that can’t possibly cover your ass, and already he’s struggling not to groan and get himself in trouble before anything even starts.

“Sorry,” Ghost grunts as he gestures you in, and Soap feels a flash of surprise at an actual apology from his Lt. “Had to crate the dog.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” you say, voice soft and lovely and God Johnny just knows he’s going to be miserable for the foreseeable future. “But, will he- be in the room?”

Ghost snorts, and Johnny shifts on his knees, lacing his fingers through the wires of his crate. 

“Sure will,” Ghost says, closing and locking the door behind him as you shed your jacket. “He likes the show.”

Johnny can see the way your nose crinkles from where he is, a flash of disgust clear as day on your face as you turn back towards Ghost. “Excuse me–?”

Simon doesn’t bother answering, just jerks his head towards where Johnny’s cage is just barely visible through the open bedroom door.

Your face is still creased in disgust when you turn to follow Ghost’s line of sight, and Johnny just barely manages to bite back a moan as he gets a front-row seat to realization setting in for you. Your expression flips quickly from disgust, to shock, to confusion, to interest, flipping back and forth again and again before you settle on what seems to be tentative interest.

“He’s a noisy thing,” Ghost says, stepping up behind you and resting his hands low on your hips. “I told him to keep his trap shut, but well...”

You swallow, and Johnny can see the way your throat moves with the action, mimicking you unconsciously as best he can. You hesitate for a moment, standing on a precipice as Ghost feels you up and Johnny waits for your verdict.

“Not exactly fair, is it?” You finally say, leaning into the behemoth at your back. “With that thing in his mouth?”

The smirk on Simon’s face makes Johnny’s cock twitch in the cage, and the slightest sliver of a whine eeks out of his throat. He squeezes hard around the plug in his ass, breath hitching when that just makes him even needier.

“He deserves it.” Simon noses at your throat, mouth pressed against your skin. “Chewed up my boots when I was at work.”

It's an obvious lie, but you laugh and Johnny can’t stop the whine this time, leaning forward into the bars and wishing desperately that you weren’t so far away. The metal is cool against his flushed skin and he pants through the gag.

“Poor thing,” you coo, sighing as Simon does something to your neck that Johnny can’t quite see. “He was probably just lonely.”

Ghost makes a low sound of doubt, and if Johnny’s cock were free he’d be harder than diamond, he’s sure of it.

“Still, he knows he broke the rules,” Simon rumbles, and the two of you start moving forward, his big paws on your hips guiding you just where he wants you. “This is his punishment.”

You giggle when Ghost starts truly manhandling you, pulling your sweater off with little care for how you get tangled up in it and yanking at your bra with the same level of care. “What, watching us?”

Ghost hums an affirmative, and when you glance over at him and wink, Johnny moans. He can feel the drool dripping down his chin when you bend at the waist, pulling your skirt down and leaving yourself fully bared to the room.

Fuck, you’re not wearing any panties. The image of you walking to their apartment in a skirt that’s borderline indecent with nothing covering you… 

Johnny’s hardly aware of the whines coming from him, doesn’t manage to get control of himself until Ghost slams a hand on top of his crate and jolts him back into reality.

“The hell did I say, huh?” He asks, scowling. You’re already sitting on the bed, legs crossed all prim and proper and oh Johnny can’t wait to see you ravaged. “You even listenin’ to me, mutt?”

Johnny jerks his attention back up to Ghost, eyes wide and pleading as he nods, letting his hands fall from the cage to his lap and hunching his shoulders to make himself look as rueful as possible. Simon is blatantly unimpressed, eyebrow cocked. 

“Don’t give me that look. I told you quiet, and you’re over here yippin’ and barkin’.”

Johnny wants to glare and say that’s not true ye fuckin’ arsehole, I cannae even move my damn lips but he also wants his cock free from the cage keeping him soft, wants the plug in his ass to be a cock, so he gathers all his self control and ducks his head, silent and begging for mercy.

Simon gives it to him for once, giving in far more quickly than he usually would. Johnny attributes it to your presence and your cunt waiting for him on the bed, and looks at you from beneath his lashes with what he hopes is clear appreciation.

Ghost gives him one last look. “Don’t make me tell you again,” he says, before turning towards you on the bed. Johnny gets a fantastic view of him pulling his shirt off by the neckline, and hears the distinct sound of his belt being undone just a moment later.

His first test at keeping himself quiet comes when Simon drops his pants and leans over you, and Johnny realizes that he can hardly see a bit of your skin. Ghost’s got his back to the crate, and the bastard’s massive enough that he nearly swallows your form whole, leaving just your calves and feet visible when they wrap around his thighs.

Johnny lets his tongue rest on his bottom lip, panting loudly to try and ease the urge to whine and beg until you could be shifted to the side so he can see. 

His patience, as thin as it is, is rewarded just a moment later when Ghost picks you up by the thighs and all but throws you to the side. You squeal at the rough manhandling, laughing as he settles himself over you again. Ghost quickly kisses you, swallowing any more sounds you might make, and buries one of his hands between your thighs. 

There are words shared between the two of you that Johnny can’t quite hear, and the jealousy simmers deep in his gut. He can practically feel your lips on his, or Simon’s, wants nothing more than to be freed from both his cages and allowed to worm his way between your bodies. He's already stretched and prepped, he knows he'd be able to fuck you just seconds after the cage would come off.

But Ghost doesn’t come to free him, he just kicks his jeans fully off and strokes his cock above your stomach.

“Fuck,” you groan, loud enough for Johnny to hear now. You're squirmy beneath Simon, pushing yourself up against him and trying to hold him close with your legs. “I’m not sure it’ll fit.”

“It will,” Ghost says simply, unshakable confidence in his voice as he holds himself above you, lining his cockhead up with your hole. He goes at his own pace, all your pushing and pulling doing nothing.

Johnny can’t hold back his whine when he realizes he won’t be able to see, is stuck with just the sight of your face twisted in ecstasy as Simon steadily fills you. He wants to see Simon's cock disappear steadily, wants to see the rim of your hole squeeze him tightly and watch as slick drips down to your ass. He wants it so badly he could cry.

You’re quickly reduced to nothing more than the same pathetic sounds Johnny is stuck making, raking your nails down Simon’s back as he gives you no time to adjust to what Johnny knows is a nearly impossible stretch.

Your chest heaves, your breaths loud, and Simon quickly sets a pace that fucks any hope of speech away from you, keeping you soft and desperate beneath him. The sight of Simon’s powerful body moving over you has Johnny squirming, thankful that you’re loud enough to cover the noises he can’t keep in.  

“See?” Ghost grunts, hips snapping against yours. “Fits like a glove, bird.”

“F-full,” you gasp, smacking him on the back as he bullies his cock into you again and again, your legs kicking out on instinct as you're overwhelmed by him.

“Damn right,” Ghost says, and Johnny wants to be you so badly right now that he can hardly breathe, eyes welling up with tears as he watches the two of you. Drool drips from his tongue in a steady stream, mouth watering at the show before him and the music you’re making. He wants to beg and plead, to insist that he can be good, that he’ll listen if Ghost just lets him out for a turn.

His cock aches in its metal prison, hole pulsing around the plug keeping him spread, and the first few tears drip down his cheeks. He wraps his fingers in the crate bars so that he won’t pry the cock cage off himself. 

“Simon, Simon!” You cry, voice shrill as you’re chased towards a peak Johnny knows you're desperate for. “Right there, right there, right there, please!”

“You’re louder’n he is,” Ghost grunts, but he listens, fucking you even more roughly and wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you in place. “Gonna come on my cock, pretty? Gonna soak the bed for me?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Do it then.” He uses his free hand to twist one of your nipples, drawing a near-screech from you. Johnny can’t see much, not with the way Simon drops onto you to put his full weight behind each thrust, your body hidden beneath his. The two of you just become naked bodies pressed against one another, the rocking of Ghost’s hips the only true movement he can see.

You’re loud when you orgasm, and Johnny moans along with you, the sight of your blissed-out expression only driving his need higher and higher.

You’re limp beneath Ghost as he chases his own release in your cunt, your head rolling to the side so you can watch Johnny as Simon finishes himself off.

Ghost groans as he comes, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts slow. Johnny can practically feel the come in his own hole, wants something fucking him almost more than he even wants to come. The plug is nothing compared to Ghost's cock, he knows it, and he wants something to really make him burn nearly as much as he wants to get off.

You’re boneless and relaxed on the bed in the aftermath, your only noise a small sound of discomfort when Simon pulls himself out of you a few long moments later. Your eyes don’t fully close, though Johnny can tell they want to. Instead you keep your gaze trained on Johnny’s tense form as he fights to keep himself sane in his cage.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you as Ghost stands, finally able to see your fully naked form without anything else in the way. You spread your legs a bit for him, a silly smile playing at your lips, but the angle you’re at on the bed keeps Johnny from seeing your cunt. 

Ghost doesn’t make any attempt at being quiet when he unlocks the cage, key clanking loudly against the lock and the lock clanking loudly against the bars. He’s just as brief with Johnny’s gag, almost dismissive as he undoes the straps and tugs it off.

Only once his mouth is free does Johnny finally turn to look at him, forcing his eyes away from your enticing form but still staying obediently quiet.

Ghost has that sated look in his eye he only gets after truly satisfying fucks, and that spark of jealousy in Johnny’s gut grows just a bit knowing he wasn't the one to put it there. Simon tilts his head when they make eye contact, and moves back from the cage enough to make it clear he wants Johnny out.

“Go get your treat, boy,” he says as Johnny shifts forward, staying on his hands and knees and whimpering when the plug shifts inside of him. “You took your punishment well.”

Johnny licks his lips as he turns and gets his first true look at your cunt, well-fucked and dripping slick. He licks his lips as he shifts forward, cock-cage easily forgotten when he gets his first taste of you.

[peachetteprice]

Thinkinnnnnnnn... about Soap's thick cock at a military charity dinner/ball with reader. Okay, hear me out, though!

Poor thing is finding it too difficult to hide his boner sexual feelings for you (having only just met you, of course) as you laugh at his jokes and place a hand on his arm like you've known him for a millenia, aware of the fact that you're just one of those friendly 'highers' of the echelon, only there for the written bonus you'll get in the post within the next few weeks.

So, whilst you're busy chatting it up with one of those... Captain bastards on your table - not his lovely Captain, of course... love you, Price - he slips out of his assigned seating to creep to the bathroom, passing an uncomfortable number of strangers as he nears the entrance, praying to the Lord himself (just as his mum begs him to on Saturdays) that they won't look down at his crotch as he crab-walks with his back along the walls as if it's a new mission on his docket, all to pump an incredibly tough one out in a stall that takes him a healthy eight minutes to clean up from due to the oil-drum load of thick cum he managed to dislodge from his balls, having only just returned from base within the past three days.

[agentmarvel]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request f!reader x the cod boys reaction to her taking a sick day after having an IUD placed, either platonic or an established relationship with one of them, up to you. I can only imagine mixed reactions, especially after learning what all goes into the procedure. This is totally self indulgent so I was hoping for it to be on the fluffier side, BUT no worries if you’re not interested!!

Thank you!!🤍💐

i love this🖤 thank you for requesting, kat! hope you enjoy!

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

141 x afab!reader (individual pairings - head canon format)

☆

john is worried.

“not like you to take a sick day, dove. you sure you’ll be alright ‘til i get back?”

tbh, he’s so pressed about it. he knew in advance what the procedure would look like - educated himself after the birth control discussion came up - but your body isn’t reacting the way either of you had hoped. it’s far worse.

scared the hell out of him when you called yesterday afternoon and asked that he pick you up. obstinate, headstrong thing that you are, you declined his offer to accompany you to the appointment in the first place. you were in no condition to drive.

the thought of leaving you now, even for morning pt with the team, sets his teeth on edge. you’re strong, he knows. you can handle yourself just fine. but what kind of man would he be to leave his girl when she feels this fucking awful? - spoiler alert: he’s not going anywhere.

with your reassurance (and telling him he’s being a bigger baby than you about it), he tucks you into your nest of pillows and blankets, leaves ibuprofen and a cup of water on your side table, and makes sure your heating pad is plugged in and within reach.

simon is supportive.

“i’ve seen you shot, stabbed, blown up, burnt, broken bones; you’re a tough bird, you can handle it.”

you’ve been through worse. you both know that. doesn’t mean that he isn’t sympathetic to the pain you’re feeling, though. he watches you like a hawk, monitoring every scrunch of your nose or pained grimace or you squeezing your eyes shut just a little too tight. you’ll take the meds he picked up for you like clockwork with the fresh cuppa he brings you every four hours. he’ll take the day off with you, let you squeeze his hand when a cramp or muscle spasm is particularly gnarly.

he’ll hold you while you nap, too - playing with your hair, keeping you centered on top of him with one bulky arm slung across your hips, wishing the whole time that he could trade bodies with you until the aches are gone.

johnny is pissed.

“an’ they donnae give ye fuckin’ anesthetic? och! tha’s fuckin’ cruel s’what tha’ is!”

this man is L I V I D. he didn’t know the details of iud placement until you made him watch a video, and he’s been going off the rails since. it infuriates him to no end that you’re expected to just tough it out with nothing more than basic fucking pain relievers. don’t even get him started on that medieval torture device you called a ‘tenaculum’ that they stabbed you with!

he’s planning a murder while he orders a delivery of supplies. angrily, his thumbs punch at his screen as he selects all the things he even thinks you might need to get through the week - even though you keep telling him you’re sure you’ll be fine tomorrow. 

“not gonna stab my hen and get away with it.”

(when you ask what he’s muttering about over there, he tosses his phone aside, rolls you into his arms, kisses the top of your head, and tells you lunch is on the way.)

kyle is sympathetic.

“poor thing,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “what can i do to help?”

like price, kyle took the liberty of doing his research. 

cramps and muscle aches/spasms are common after placement, and some women will actually pass out in the minutes following the procedure. he texted a medic friend to get ahold of some muscle relaxers for you, picked up standard issue pain meds, bananas for potassium to combat the cramps, a second heating pad (one for each side), chocolates, tea, and a new plushy for you to squeeze on. your boyfriend was adamant that he take you to and from your appointment, even if you didn’t want him in the room while it was happening. every single base is covered in advance to mitigate the worst case scenario.

when you curl into the fetal position, gritting out an abrupt “all good”, he wraps himself around you like a shield.

[yourabsolutemother]

I’ve been sick so I haven’t been working on At Sundown, so here's this to hold you over. I’m also realizing as I’m writing this how bad I am at writing smut. Lol sorry

MNDI

Johnny x reader

CW: possible military inaccuracy, possible lore inaccuracy, talking about insecurities, female anatomy, slight angst, comfort, smut, Reader is self conscious about their body, use of the word ‘pantie/panties’, Johnny is a munch, oral fixation

Johnny has never seen you without a bra and underwear on, much to his disdain. You are severely insecure about your body, after years of being ghosted after showing yourself to people you fancy. It was the pressure of society to have the ‘perfect body’ whatever that meant. What even was a perfect body? Johnny was your first boyfriend after this long period of let down after let down. You didn’t want to possibly ruin it by letting yourself be comfortable like that around him, you loved him far too much.

It hurt Johnny that you couldn’t see that he didn’t care about what you looked like, he would like it because it was you. He spends most of his nights, after having to stare at your face, your eyes were always closed because it felt too intimate to look into his eyes, thinking about you. Thinking about what your plump breasts would look like spilling out from between his fingers. How you would sound as he bites and tugs on your perky nipples. He hated having to look at your tits bouncing from beneath your sports bra or, his favorite, a tight tank top that your breasts were practically spilling out of.

He was desperate to watch his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy without having to blindly slide your panties to the side. He wanted to keep your thighs spread with his hands, forcing you to stay exposed to his hungry gaze. But, he would never do that to you, he cared too much about you to act on the intrusive thoughts in his head. Instead, he whispers sweet encouragements into your ear, reminding you of how much he adores you and what little you could do to change that.

He spends two years waiting for you to be comfortable, never pushing past begging to eat your sweet pussy. “Please, baby. A wonae e'en leuk at it. Jus’ wanna taste ye.” To which you would always respond with a no, stating he’d be able to tell with his mouth. But he didn’t even care about that, he only cared about the feeling of you cumming on his face. Of course, he’d always leave it at that.

You just are so scared of vulnerability in that sense. You’d tell Johnny about anything, coming to him when you had a shitty day, or coming to him to communicate that he’d hurt your feelings or that he was slacking in some way. And you also never shied away from him, or dodged the accusations that Johnny had for you. You were always open and honest with him.

But with your body, it felt so different. You’d spent most of your young adult life finding men on the internet and ‘falling in love’. You would open yourself up to these men and show yourself to them, and then they’d leave later. It left you feeling like you had shared something very deep and now they had the ability to use it against you, even if they never did. It was like a piece of you was missing. Then as you got older, as times started changing, men started to ghost you after you showed yourself, because you weren’t ‘perfect’. You obviously hadn’t surrounded yourself with the best of men.

You bought a package of lingerie panties off of a website, opening it with Johnny since it was a gift for him. You were confused when you watched his face light up particularly bright, which quickly changed into embarrassment when he held up a pair of crotchless panties. “please dinnae tell me this is a joke.” He said excitedly, his bright eyes looking at you hopefully. It took everything in you to not lie to him and secretly throw them away, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face. “I didn’t know that was in there..” You told him, your face twisting remorsefully as you watched his expression fall. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, you could see him burying a look of hurt. You knew he was upset about it, you knew how he felt about you not wanting to show yourself to him.

When you first got with him, he was understanding in the first months. But as time went on, he would continuously try to get you to take your underwear off. He would get pushier and pushier, not understanding your deep insecurity because you hadn’t told him about it. You didn’t want him to think you were weird. You just kept brushing him off and he eventually gave up, his ego taking a beating in the process. His male brain connected the dots somehow that you didn’t want to because you didn’t like him as much as he liked you. He started to distance himself, not engaging in anything sexual and even going as far as denying it.

The lack of communication on both sides created a riff in the relationship, it felt loveless. But Johnny’s needy ass quickly got tired of it and barged into your shared apartment after getting home from a week long deployment. He looked like he hadn’t slept, more than usual when coming home from deployment. “Alright lassie, what's gang on in tha pretty head o’ yours.” He demanded to know, not even bothering to take off his gear before taking his seat next to you. His eyes were filled with determination in that moment, ready to fight to work things out if need be, not that he wanted to.

You didn’t know what he meant at first, confused what he was suddenly bringing up. “Ye wonae let me see ye..” He told you gently, taking your hands into his gloved hands. You could feel the grit on the battered fabric. “startin tae think ye dinnae fancy me.’ Soap admitted, his eyes darting away from yours as he spoke the words he’d been trying to ignore for the past few weeks.

You felt horrible, mentally slapping yourself for not realizing that it was bothering him so bad. Of course you knew that men were insecure about things like that sometimes, but you thought that you saying that it wasn’t because of him wasn’t enough. He needed to know why, he deserved to know why. So you spent the next two hours talking about why you didn’t want to show yourself. By the end of it, you were pressed against his side, his gear poking you as you leaned your head on his shoulder. You had cried a few times, each time Johnny wiped your tears, smiling encouragingly as you continued to explain yourself.

As soon as you told him it was because you were insecure, he was supportive. He stopped asking to see for a very long time. Keeping his wants to himself, for the sake of your happiness and comfortability. but , after two years of this, it started to affect him again. This time, he felt like he wasn’t doing a good enough job making you comfortable. In his mind, two years would’ve been enough to trust him at least a little more, but nothing ever changed. He started to push again, this time more supportively. He always stopped when you told him no, not without flashing a small pout.

You started to notice this and really started to think about it. You started thinking about how he was always supportive, never forcing you to show yourself. You thought back on all the times that you caught him looking at your tits while he fucked you, licking his lips to stop himself from capturing a nipple in his mouth. You realized how hurt he must be and you started to feel really bad.

So one night, while he was out at training, you shaved your entire body, every place that you shave, you shaved. You moisturized your face and your body, putting on Johnny’s favorite scents. You put on the pair of crotchless underwear that you found hidden in Johnny’s sock drawer one night, the one you thought he threw away. No wonder he was so adamant on throwing them away for you. You put on one of his shirts and wait on the couch for him, reading your book like you normally would.

He came through the door not long after you sat down, huffing and haphazardly throwing his things on the small table in the entryway of your apartment. You turned and looked at him, a smile on your face. He watched you curiously, a smile planted on his face regardless of his curiosity on why you were so happy to see him. He’d only been gone a few hours. You threw your arms around him, your fingers finding the hair  at the base of his mohawk on his nape. “Welcome home.” You greeted him, your voice soft and slightly nervous.

Johnny leaned in and kissed you gently, bending you over slightly in an attempt to get closer to you. “Mmm, such a warm welcome.” He muttered as he pulled away, his hands finding your waist. “What's the occasion, doll?” He asked as you grabbed his hands and guided them to your round bottom. You couldn’t help but feel giddy, knowing he still didn’t quite know what you had on. “I was thinking about things.” You told him, purposely being vague. You leaned in and started to place wet kisses to his jaw, your hands resting on his chest.

Johnny let out a little hum and closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of your warm mouth on his skin. “thinkin aboot whit exactly?” He questioned, his hands groping and roaming your pantie clad ass. You could feel your face heating up as he realized how scary this actually was. Your confidence was suddenly gone, making you pull away and grip the bottom of Johnny’s shirt that you were wearing.

Your sudden movement made your bottom slip from Johnny’s groping, his face turning into a look of concern. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, bonnie.” He tells you supportively, his hands reaching out to gently grab your arms. He didn’t move to force your hands away from the edge of the shirt you were wearing, already knowing what was wrong. This tended to happen when you engaged the sex. The look in his eyes made you get a sudden wave of confidence, taking advantage of it, you take his hand and shove it under your shirt.

His breath hitched and his eyes widened as he stared at you, his fingers feeling along the seam of the crotchless panties. You could feel his calloused fingertips barely brushing along your clit and lips, making you bite your lip.  “Oh..” Was all he could get out, hesitating before fully feeling your cunt. His fingers explored your clit, sliding along the inside of your folds as he trailed his finger to your entrance. “Bonnie..” He breathed out, quickly leaning forward and capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

His fingers left you and he backed you into the couch, his hands helping you sit against the cushions. He kneels on the floor between your legs, his lips never left yours as he tugged on the bottom hem of your shirt, briefly pulling away. “Please let me see, bonnie. Neit tae see ye.” He murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. He kept his eyes closed respectfully.

You left warm again, feeling embarrassed again. “..Okay..” You whispered, your voice shaky. It made Johnny drop your shirt, opening his eyes to look at you. “Dinnae give me thon. Yes or no, lassie.” He demanded, understanding the severity of consent at this moment. You take a deep breath and force yourself to look at him. “You can look.” You told him, trying to keep your voice steady so he could hear your agreement with confidence.

With your consent, he quickly took the shirt off. His gaze landed on your tits first, his eyebrows furrowing as a low grumble escaped his throat. He leaned forward, his mouth opening to take your nipple into his mouth, quickly stopping to look up at you. His mouth was hovering over your nipple as he spoke, making it harden under the air. “Can I?” He asked, not needing to explain further what he was asking.

You nod and immediately arch your back as he harshly sucks your nipple into his mouth. He noisy sucks your tit like he would die if he didn’t, slobber coating his chin and the underside of your breast. He was groaning into your skin, sending vibrations through your sensitive skin. You gasped out and clawed at the bed, your nipples sensitive after years of not having any attention like this. Your legs instinctively spread so he can slot between them better, “Tha’s it..” He groaned out, not even taking his mouth off your tit as he spoke. He sucked hard as he pulled his head away slowly, your nipple eventually falling out of his mouth with a sharp ‘pop’ sound.

He bites back a moan as he switches to the other breast. He attacks your nipple with the same neediness as before, his other hand now pinching and rolling your free nipple between his fingers. You felt so good that your mind was completely wiped of insecurity, except maybe the tiny voice still nagging you in the back of your mind. Johnny pulls away and grabs both of your breasts in his large hands, squishing them together so he could alternate licking your pert nipples. His eyes never left your tits as he licked them, almost like he was in a trance, your whines and moans spurring him on. He eventually pulled away and let them go, his thumbs brushing over the wet pebbles. “Canae believe ye've been hidin’ these bonnie things from me.” Johnny groaned, leaning down once more to bite your nipple softly.

You were squirming slightly beneath him, your face flushed deep red as you whimpered out softly. You opened your mouth to speak, but he stopped you with a gentle kiss. “Ye dinnae neit tae explain yourself, love.” He told you as he started to kiss down your body, taking his time to worship every inch of your skin. He wanted you to feel like a goddess and he was doing a wonderful job. You caught your breath and let your hand rest on top of his head, trying not to think about how close he was to your dripping, exposed pussy.

He planted kisses on each of your hips, and another just above the hem of your panties. He didn’t even look at it before he spilled them off of your body, tapping your thigh so you would lift your hips and help him. He threw them to the side and lifted your legs over his shoulders, just gazing at your pussy. He looked like he was seeing god. If you asked him, he was. Johnny’s thumbs come to gently pull your folds apart, looking at your winking entrance, letting a desperate whimper fall from his lips.

He holds himself back and lets out at sigh, turning his head and kissing your thigh. “Thank ye for lettin’ me dae this, bonnie. It means more tae me than you’ll iver know.” He tells you, his eyes looking up at you. You could see how happy doing this was making him, it made your heart swell. You reached down and guided his head towards your cunt, biting your lip nervously. “Show me how thankful you are..” You breathed out, partly teasing and partly demanding. Deep down, you wanted to know what it felt like to have your pussy eaten out.

He was sloppy, even sloppier than when he sucked your nipples. There was spit and slick dripping down your ass and onto the couch, soaking into the fabric. You couldn’t help but wonder how you were going to get the stain out. But the feeling of Johnny’s fingers pushing into you while he harshly sucked your clit quickly made you forget about anything at all. You cried out and trembled against the couch, both of your hands gripping Johnny’s mohawk to keep him firmly planted against your core.

It didn’t take long for you to start moaning louder, a hot fire building in your lower stomach. “Johnny!” You squeal out, your legs starting to clamp around his head. His eyes rolled back as he moaned against your pussy, loving the feeling of being trapped against up. The pull of your hands and legs made it hard for him to move his mouth against you, but he was determined to make you cum on his face, to make you feel like you never had before. So he curled his fingers right against that spot, one hand coming up to press against your lower stomach. You moaned out at the sudden burst of pleasure, your abs tensing up as you got closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You gasped for air for a moment before your orgasm came crashing down on you, your toes curling and your heels digging into Johnny’s back. You harshly ground your hips against Johnny’s face, using his face to ride out your orgasm. Which Johnny was happy to oblige to.

You collapsed against the couch, letting go of his hair as your legs relaxed, chest heaving. He kissed back up your body and ended up right at your face, smiling like an idiot. “ye juist came on ma face. A saw ye, everything, A saw it.” Johnny ranted on, wrapping your still slightly trembling body in his arms. “God, A fuckin love ye,” He murmured as he picked you up, walking to take you to your shared room.

You held onto him, face flushed in embarrassment. You were happy you had finally gotten it over with, but it didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. So, Johnny spends the rest of the night cherishing you, letting you know that your body didn’t make him want to run away. If anything, it made him want to run into the sun for even a chance to see it again.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Second chance: cbf!soap x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of infidelity, angst

You placed the moving box down by your old childhood bed and sighed heavily. That was the last box from your apartment, you were going to fully moved in after this.

Th past year had been one your worst...almost topping junior year of university. It was like the universe was playing some sort of sick trick on you with how constant the bad things kept happening to you.

It started because of your ex-fiancé.

You liked him.

He was nice, attractive and one of the more serious relationships you had gotten into since university. He bought you nice things and showed you off, though whenever you looked back on it he often paired his compliments with negatives to subtly tear you down.

You didn't notice then, or maybe you didn't care as much, or maybe you just pretended not to so he'd stay.

He was really only attentive in the bedroom which was a plus compared to a few other loves you had before him.

The sex was so great however that you walked in on him with another woman in your apartment in your bed one morning after a fight.

At that moment you realized maybe you held on too tight to something you shouldn't have.

After you kicked him out and broke things off you decided it was best to just take a step back from any relationships and to completely get off social media, since it did wonders on your mental health after the break up.

You were lucky enough that you had more self respect for yourself when it came to a cheater than a partner who put you down when he tried to get back with you, even if it hurt you a lot.

You liked him.

Things were looking okay but you should've known better than to get your hopes up.

"We're needing to cut back on a lot of expenses." Your boss had told you. "We still want you on the team but we'll be cutting your pay."

In hindsight you should've waited to quit until you found another job, because before long you were out of money to pay rent since no one else would hire you.

Now you were back to living with your parents.

Your throat tightened as you began to unpack the box onto your bed while deep shame washed over you.

You were a failure. Everyone else in your life had things figured out, Your friends had their own places, they were happily married, they had careers that they like and you...

Well you were stuck back in your small hometown with no back up plan and no job.

Alone.

You sniffled and flopped onto your bed.

You tried hard not to give yourself a pity party but you were at your wits end. You tried everything, you pushed down your feelings and tried to look on the bright side and did everything you were supposed to but nothing worked.

You needed someone right now but your friends were miles away and busy. Your parents were visiting your grandparents and you didn't want their pity.

There was one person.

You grabbed your phone without even thinking about it and went to John's contact in your phone. You went to his messages, ignoring the last mundane message you sent him and hovered your thumbs above the keyboard.

How many times have you done this?

You knew he'd let you cry into the phone and listen to you vent. He'd give you advice or at the very least he'd comfort you and tell you that things were going to be okay, that it always ends up working out for you in the end. He'd make everything alright-

Except you didn't know.

It had been seven years since you last spoke or saw each other. You're not even sure if he had the same phone number, if he even thought about you as often as you did about him.

John could've forgotten about you. He probably became some big shot military hero who had a wife and kids completely far removed from the small town childhood friend he had.

You didn't know, he wasn't on social media.

The only way you could find out was if you reached out and talked to him.

But he didn't want to talk to you.

You had held him back, like you feared you did since high school. That was the only reason you could think of for why he disappeared on you. Why else would he stop talking to you?

You weren't bitter, not anymore. You used to be angry the first year or so but after the angry subsided you realized you were just hurt.

You just wanted your best friend back. Your Johnny. But he was out of reach and he didn't want to come back, he never really did even when he visited you at university.

The screen became blurry and a couple tears ran down your face before you wiped them away.

You needed a distraction.

You didn't think twice as you sloppily put on whatever clothes you could find and walked to the corner store. You were glad your parents weren't in town to see you get drunk on a Monday evening, especially when they kept looking at you like you were push away from a break down.

Probably because you were but that didn't matter right now.

When you walked into the store you went straight to the liquor and picked out the cheapest one you could afford along with any snacks you thought would pair well with it.

You could just drown in your sorrows for the rest of the evening. You'd put on your favorite show or movie, try to ignore the world and hope that when you'd be hungover tomorrow that you'd have enough strength to look for more jobs.

You turned down an aisle and your heart stopped before you froze.

John MacTavish stood at the very end of the aisle, looking very concentrated on the boxes of popcorn in front of him as if it were a life or death situation.

The very real, tangible, and unmistakable John MacTavish, still with the dumb but endearing mohawk, stood just mere feet away from you.

You wanted to be happy but all you felt was immense shame and nervousness.

Not like this. You didn't want to see him like this. You wanted to reconnect when your life was back together, when you had something to show for and not when you were holding cheap alcohol to get shitfaced on a Monday.

"No." You mumbled to yourself as you stared at him with wide eyes. "No, no."

You stepped back and gasped when you ran into a rack of snacks that crashed against the floor loud enough to make your ears hurt. Your heart raced and you nearly ran away as everything became overwhelming.

"Bonnie?"

You snapped your head towards John and you were met with the bright blue eyes that you had missed for seven years.

Tags are closed!

a/n: yay reunion!

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