#mactavish monday

[random-thot-generator]

Promises, Promises

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mac Tavish x Fem Reader

Summary: Soap has been trying to move your relationship out of the friend zone for months, and finally gets his chance when an innocent game of pool and a friendly wager lead to progressively dirtier tactics to make the other lose. Let’s just say Soap is “in it to win it” and makes a bold and filthy claim that he’s more than eager to prove to you.

Aaaand... then smut happens.  Yeah, I know. Big surprise, right?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit sexual descriptions (bc that’s how I roll), thigh riding, oral- fem receiving, improper use of a pool table, Soap has a filthy mouth- for multiple reasons, no Y/N, 

(N/A: This thot hit me Friday night and it’s been rotting my brain ever since, so I’m purging this smut. I was going to share it for Super Soap Sunday, but then my internet died, so you’re getting a MacTavish Monday special event. So, gather ‘round the pool table, my good hoes, and let’s get into this.) 

Word Count: 4489

 🎱

“Ah, c’mon, hen. Give it up. Ya know yer gaggin’ t’go out with me. Admit it. Yer mad fer me, ain’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes at the handsome sergeant sitting in front of you at the bar, a rueful little smile quirking up your lips. He didn’t even realize how right he was. You were mad for him, and that was the sad truth of it. Head over heels for him, in fact, but you would never admit it to the cocky Scottish bastard. His pretty head was big enough as it was, already.

You had decided a while ago that it was best to just stay friends with Johnny MacTavish. He liked to keep his sexual relationships casual, and you couldn’t do that with him. You already cared about him too much, and you didn’t want to go through the pain of losing him when another woman eventually caught his eye. It sucked not being able to have him the way you wanted him, but it was better than not having him at all.

“Oh, come on, Johnny. I doubt you could even find the time to take me on a date, considering how crazy your schedule is,” you pointed out, trying to deflect his advances. “Besides, weren’t you dating that redhead? What’s-her-name? You’ve not mentioned her in a while. Things not work out?”

Soap made a frustrated face, waving a dismissive hand. “Tha’ happened months ago, Ya know good an’ damn well it was jus’ a quick feck in the lavvy every once in awhile t’relieve some stress.”

You tried your best to ignore the ugly pang of jealousy that curled in your chest. “Relieve some stress, huh? And what’s got you so stressed? Your job?”

“’M stressed ‘cause ya won’t go out with me,” was his quick retort, giving you an impish grin. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light, and you felt your heart give a pitiful little flutter.

Shaking your head, you tossed your towel on the bar and huffed in exasperation. “What’s it going to take to get you off this? Besides, going on a date with you?”

His face fell into a pouting frown. “Don’t see why ya won’t do it. It’d be a proper date, none o’ that ‘Netflix an’ chill’ shite.” Then his frown morphed into a dirty little smirk. “We can do tha’ after the date,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Aye, but I’m yer eejit.”

You wished.

Exhaling a weary sigh of resignation, you turned to check the clock on the wall. Finally. Closing time. “Last orders!” you shouted out to the pub at large. You glanced back at Johnny and pointed at his empty pint glass. “Do you want another?”

“Naw. ’M good.” He leaned his arms on the bar and smiled at you..

After the last of the customers had shuffled out, you locked the door behind them and started sweeping. Johnny jumped off his seat and began turning up the chairs and stools for you, then went to fetch the mop bucket from the supply closet. He had gotten into the habit of hanging out with you after hours and driving you home after you locked up for the night. On nights like this, he usually ended up passed out on your couch if he didn’t have to be back at base, his snores drowning out the telly. You didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed that he had never tried to follow you to your bedroom. 

Working together, you had the pub cleaned and the bar restocked in less than an hour. Ready to call it a night and go home, you went to turn off the lights when you spied a couple of cue sticks left out on the pool table, a few pool balls scattered about its felt top. Figuring what the hell, you picked up one of the cue sticks. Johnny grinned as he watched you line up a shot, knocking the two ball into a corner pocket with a satisfying crack.

“Didn’t know you could play, hen.”

You gave him a lopsided smile and shrugged as you took aim at the seven ball next. “My uncle taught me how.” You sank the seven in a side pocket.

“If I’d known tha’, I would’ve ‘challenged ya to a game. I’m pretty good myself, ya know. I bet I could take you.”

You quirked a brow at him. “Oh, yeah? Willing to place a friendly wager on it?”

He crossed his arms across his chest and smirked. “What d’ya have in mind?”

“If I win, I get to choose where we order takeaway, and you have to pay for it. If you win. I’ll pay your tab tomorrow night.”

“Alright. I’ll rack, you break. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The match was fairly even, Johnny just barely beating you by knocking in the eight ball first. You took the loss in stride, ready to put your cue stick away, when he stopped you. “Let’s go double or nothin’.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, cue stick held aloft to be slotted back in the wall rack. “What d’you mean? I have to pay for takeaway twice if I lose again?”

“Nooo,” he drawled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m changin’ the stakes. If I win, ya have t’go on that date with me.”

“Really? And if I win?”

He grinned. “Then I’ll let you take me out on a date.”

You scoffed, snickering at him. “Unh-unh. No, if I win, you have to stop pestering me for a date.”

He sniffed, frowning. “If tha’s what ya want,” he grumbled, pouting.

You dropped your chin, shooting him a dubious look. “I thought you were sure you could take me. What have you got to worry about?”

He sneered at you, unable to ignore the challenge. “Alright, hen. Just be prepared to pay up when ya lose, again, aye?”

This time you racked, and he broke. Two solids dropped in their pockets, and his grin went wide. “Best decide now what yer goin’ t’wear for our date, hen.” He gave you a cocky wink before lining up his next shot.

Left to his own devices, you knew he would end up running the table, and you couldn’t let that happen. Sidling up next to him, face simpering, you murmured in a high, sweet voice, “Who said I was planning on wearing anything, Johnny?”

His shot went wide and glanced off the cue ball, making him swear under his breath. He turned to glare at you. “Tha’ was a dirty trick.”

You giggled at him. “Oh no! You missed your shot. That’s too bad,” you crooned in mock sympathy, poking out your bottom lip.

“So, tha’s how it’s goin’ t’be, then?” He gave you a slow nod. “Alright then, hen. We’ll do this yer way. Jus’ remember, it was you tha’ started it.”

You grunted, not in the least bit intimidated. Let him talk all he wanted. You could ignore him if you had to. You walked around the table, choosing your next shot, then bent over to line it up. Just as you went to tap the cue ball, Johnny leaned over and breathed hot on the side of your neck. “Mm. Ya look good bent over like tha’, sweetheart,” he hummed low and filthy in your ear.

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin as you flinched away, your shot just barely tapping the ball you were aiming at. You gave him a baleful look. The bastard knew his voice always got to you. “That was a cheap shot.”

His grin was smarmy as hell as he patted you on the head. “No. That was a missed shot.” He bumped you out of the way. “Now, if yeh’ll excuse me, I got a game t’win.”

Ooh! That cheeky little shit. You’d be damned if you were going to let him get away with that. When he bent over to take his next shot, you ran your cue stick up between his legs and giggled when he startled, missing his shot. He spun around to pin you with a warning look as his lips pressed into a grim smile. He cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip. “Keep it up, hen. See what ya get,” he told you, his voice gone sinfully low and husky.

You swallowed, feeling your belly swoop in arousal. Keeping a wary eye on him, you circled the table away from him and chose your next shot, being mindful of where he was standing. He remained on the opposite side, hands braced on the table’s edge, a salacious smile on his face. As you lined up to take your shot, he hummed, a dirty, rumbling purr that skittered up your backbone and made your lower belly grow warm. Your core pulsed in sympathy.

“Got t’say, love, ya got some gorgeous feckin’ chebs,” he commented, and you lifted your eyes to see he was peering straight down your shirt. “How ‘bout givin’ us a taste, hm?” he drawled, a wicked smirk tugging up the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, scowling. Just ignore him, you reminded yourself, but it was really hard to do that when you could feel your nipples tightening into hard little peaks. You growled under your breath and took your shot.

Johnny grimaced when you made it, scoffing, “Got lucky,” he mumbled.

Feeling like you had the upper hand, you strutted around the table until you were standing beside him again, then bumped him out the way. “Are we still talkin’ about this game or, uh... your game?” you asked, with a nasty little smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “An’ what’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?”

You took another shot, sank another ball, then straightened to give him a sly smirk. “You talk a good game, Johnny, but you’re never gone for more than five or ten minutes when you sneak off with one of your little birds. The way I see it, if they managed to get off at all, it would have to be pure luck.”

His mouth fell open in shock, and an airy little giggle bubbled up out of your throat at his expression. You turned your back on him to line up your next shot, feeling all full of yourself and confident, but then gasped when you felt his hands take hold of your hips and tug you back against him.

His mouth was right at your ear when he rasped out, “So you’re timin’ me, are ya, hen? Are ya jealous? Hmm? Don’t you worry tha’ pretty head o’ yers, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll have ya screamin’ my name in five minutes. Give me ten, an’ I’ll have ya cummin’ 'round my cock.”

You literally shuddered at his words, a trembling breath stuttering out between your parted lips as lust coursed through you, hot and heady. Holy shit, were you actually shaking right now? Get your head back in the game, you silently admonished yourself. Averting your eyes, you sniffed in derision, “Please. You think you could get me off in five minutes?” you scoffed and shook your head, but there was little force behind your words with you voice gone all quavering and breathless.

He pressed himself closer, a low, filthy chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I’d get ya off in three, hen,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

Heat pulsed through your core and you felt your panties grow damp. Shit! You bit your bottom lip and did your best to maintain your composure. “Hah! Th-Three minutes? I call b-bullshit,” you stammered out.

His hands gripped your hips tighter and he pulled you right up against his crotch, letting you feel just how much this little back-and-forth was affecting him. He gave a slow rut of his hips, rubbing the bulge in his jeans on the swell of your ass. “I wouldn’t even have to use this on ya,” he taunted, rutting against you again. “Jus’ me mouth.” His tongue traced the curve of your ear.

A strangled little whimper caught in the back of your throat, your knuckles going white as you gripped the edge of the pool table. “F-Fuck, Johnny...”

His lips were skimming down your neck, his breath coming out in soft, hot pants against your skin. “Let me show ya what I can do fer ya, sweetheart. Let me be good to ya, make ya feel good, aye?”

He hadn’t even really touched you yet, but you could already feel your arousal seeping out of your clenching channel to pool in your panties. “W-We shouldn’t...” you breathed out, trying to argue, but then his hands slid around your waist, one hand trailing down until he was cupping your clothed pussy in his big hand. A low, guttural moan clawed its way out of your throat. Your knees gave a little wobble.

You were in trouble.

Of its own volition, your head tilted to the side to give him better access, and he groaned into your neck before he began trailing hot, wet kisses up to your ear. He caught the lobe between his teeth before pulling it between his lips to suckle at it. The hand cupping your pussy squeezed, and another filthy moan escaped your lips.

“Y feel s’good, love. S’feckin’ hot,” he whispered, and your heart gave a hard thud in your chest. When his hand came up to clutch at your breast through your shirt, you whimpered. He gave a frustrated growl and turned you in his arms, crowding you back against the pool table as his arms wrapped around your back, hands gripping and pulling at you. “Feck, let me kiss ya, hen. Please?” he asked, voice desperate and plaintive.

You peered up at him, enthralled by the darkened blue of his eyes, the expanded void of his pupils. The way he looked at you had your hands shooting up to grasp the sides of his head, pulling him down to crash his lips to yours. This time, he whimpered, melting into you for a brief moment, but he soon recovered and took charge of the kiss.

No one had ever kissed you like that before. There was hunger in his kiss, an aggression that spoke of pent-up lust and insatiable need. The fierceness of it had you gasping against his mouth, and Johhny, never one to miss an opportunity, delved between your parted lips, tangling his tongue with yours as he groaned into your mouth.

He had slotted his knee between your thighs while he kissed you, and he lifted it, now, notching it firmly against your aching sex. You whined at the contact, hips bucking on instinct to gain more friction for your swollen clit.

“Feck, tha’s it, love. Ride it,” he encouraged you. One hand supporting your back, he used the other to help guide your hips, hissing out curses as he dragged your aching pussy back and forth along his flexed thigh. “God, I bet yer feckin’ soaked, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

You could only whine and drop your head to his shoulder as he slowly pushed and pulled you to the very edge of orgasm. “J-Johnny... I―”

“Jus’ let go fer me, love. Let it happen,” he crooned at your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple. “Jus’ like that. Tha’s it. Feckin’ hell, yer so beautiful like this. Cum fer me, sweetheart. C’mon. Let me have it.”

A wavering cry fell from your lips as your orgasm swept over you like tidal wave. Sparks danced behind your eyelids, and your body went slack in his arms as your knees clamped around his thigh.

“Tha’s good, sweetheart. Ride it out. Did so good fer me,” he murmured, grasping the nape of your neck as he helped grind you against him, not stopping until your legs gave out and released the vice grip on his thigh. 

His voice and hands were both trembling as he caught you by the thighs and lifted you up to set you on the pool table, whispering praises in your ear. You could do little more than lean into him, pressing sloppy kisses at his throat as you pawed at his chest. “Oh, my god...” you breathed into his skin, panting.

His hands were rubbing circles over your back, giving you time to come down from your high. “I want ta make ya feel good, sweetheart, show ya what I can do fer ya. Will ya let me, love?”

You nodded like a dashboard bobble head, as you gasped out, “Yes! Please, Johnny.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Leaning past you, he swept his arm across the pool table, scattering the remaining pool balls in all different directions, before laying you back on the crimson felt. His hands went to the waist of your leggings, fingers curling into the material, giving them a quick tug. A sexy little smile appeared on his face when you eagerly lifted your hips to accommodate him. He pulled them down your legs, taking your underwear with them, giving a sharp inhale when his eyes finally landed on your slick lower lips.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, rushing to yank the shoes from your feet before stripping off your leggings and panties, and then tossed them aside. “Would ya look at tha’,” he whispered, brushing his thick knuckles down your wet slit. “Yer s’soft, love,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to his mouth to drag his tongue over the bony ridge. A grating moan was exhaled. “Mmm, ya taste so good, too.”

Your whimper came on the heels of the slick you could feel seeping out of your quivering folds, running along the seam of your pussy to drip onto the edge of the table. You were staring up at the ceiling in a daze, not caring what he did, so long as he touched you down there. “Johnny, wh-what are you―”

“Shh, love. Jus’ lay back an’ let me take care of ya. Tha’s a good girl.”

His hands were gliding up and down your sides, pausing briefly to massage your breasts. “Sweet Jaysus, cannae wait to see these,” he mumbled, brushing his thumbs over the nipples. He gave them a teasing little pinch, huffing out a breathy laugh when you whimpered and squirmed. “Sensitive little thing, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

You threw an arm over your eyes, embarrassed. “C-Can’t help it. Don’t laugh.”

“No no, love,” he cooed, pulling your arm away. He leaned over you to stare into your eyes. “Not laughin’ at ya, love. I jus’ can’t believe I finally have ya like this.”

 He pressed his lips to yours, sighing into the kiss. You could feel his cock flexing inside his jeans, straining to get out. He pressed himself against your weeping core, slowly grinding against you until you were whimpering again. “Can’t wait t’be inside ya, love, but there’s somethin’ I got t’do first.”

His body slid down yours, lips grazing over your sternum, kissing each breast, pushing your shirt further up to plant soft kisses over your belly and hips. He licked a wet stripe above your mound, catching your hips in his hands when you rolled them up into his face. “Bless me, the way ya move, hen. Drives me feckin’ mad.”

His pressed his nose into your sex and inhaled, moaning into it before you felt the first touch of his tongue. He had dipped the tip of it into your wet folds, flicking it over your clit, before drawing back as you jolted in his grip. You looked down your body, worried that you had done something wrong or did something he didn’t like, but when he lifted his eyes to meet yours, all you saw was the wolfish grin on his face and the devilish gleam in his eye. He fiddled with the watch on his wrist, removing it and noting the time, before pressing it into your hand.

“Keep an eye on it, hen,” he husked above your folds. “Remember. Three minutes.”

Your brows shot up, mouth gaping open. “Wha― Haaah! Fu-Fuck!”

Johnny didn’t waste any time, plunging his tongue into your wet heat. His hands were like vice grips on your bucking, squirming hips as he devoured you, making the most lewd, wet, sloppy sounds as he devoured you. He slurped at your juices, sucked at your clit, slithered his tongue up into your clenching channel, all while you mewled and cried and flailed, helpless against the onslaught. You could feel the orgasm building, rocketing towards that blissful peak, and you panted out his name again and again, your hands clutching at his head, not sure if you wanted to push him away or pull him in closer, it was so overwhelming.

He was lapping at you, snaking his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, swirling it around the taut little nub. When he sealed his lips around it and began flickering his tongue over it, you gasped, then a warbling cry flew past your lips when he drew it between his teeth and sucked, so hard. The cry turned to an escalating wail as your back came off the table, but his hands held you down, and he moaned into your pussy, the vibration sending you right over the edge.

Your climax hit you like a Mac truck, barreling out of your core in a rush of hot slick. You could hear Johnny, still buried between your legs, moaning and growling as he gorged himself, refusing to let a single drop escape his greedy mouth. Tremors shook through your frame, your legs flopping to either side of him, unable to control your shaking muscles. You were a virtual rag doll, helpless against his lewd ministrations as he drew your orgasm out to the very last quivering spasm.

You laid there, spent and shaking, heaving for breath, mind spiraling in a tailspin. You were barely aware of his hand coming up and taking his watch from your limp fingers, wondering at his grunt of satisfaction. At some point, he stood, and you could feel his hands on you again, petting you with soothing, languid strokes.

“Look at me, love,” he coaxed, cupping your cheek in his palm. “C’mon, sweetheart. Come back t’yer Johnny, now.”

You blinked your eyes open to see him hovering over you. The entire lower half of his face was smeared with your slick, lips swollen and shiny, a gleaming bright red hue. His mohawk was a wild, spiky mess, his flushed cheeks bunched up, blue eyes crinkled at the corners by the huge smile stretched across his face. “There’s my girl,” he whispered, before capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

You could taste your cum on his lips, on his tongue, and so help you, if you didn’t feel that heady swoop of arousal in your gut again. You were ruined. He had completely and utterly ruined you for anyone else, and he knew it.

He lifted his watch up in front of you, brows raised. “Two minutes, forrty-seven seconds,” he informed you, grinning. You huffed out an exasperated breath and rolled your eyes shut. “Ah-ah,” he murmured in a tender but teasing tone. “No hidin’ from me, now, love. C’mon. Open those pretty eyes fer me.”

You dragged open your heavy lids, peering up at him with hooded, glassy eyes. “What?” you rasped out, your voice gone husky from― God help you― screaming his name. Just like he said you would.

His face softened. “Are ya alright, lovie?” he asked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “It wasn’t too much, was it?”

Your hand came up to cradle his jaw, your thumb brushing over his swollen bottom lip. “I’m okay. Think I’m just still a little out of it. No one’s... Nobody has ever made me feel that way before, Johnny,”

If Johnny thought he had fallen for you before, he was dead certain of it now. Your confession sent him soaring into orbit, even as it melted his heart. “Yer never gettin’ rid o’ me now, hen. Yeh’ll have t’beat me off with a stick, an’ even then, I’d still come crawlin’ back t’ya.”

Your brow creased. “Don’t tease me like that, Johnny.”

He gave you a wry smile. “Not teasin’ ya, sweetheart. I mean it. I finally ― Jaysus, I finally got ya, an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya go.” He dipped his head down to catch your eyes. “I hope ya feel the same.”

You stared at him, eyes searching his face, looking for that smirk to appear, for him to say he was just messing with you, but all you saw was sincerity and affection reflected in his eyes. It felt like a weight lifted off your chest. “I do. Always have.”

His smile could have lit up the whole of London. “Aye?”

You smiled back at him and nodded. “Aye.”

He darted his head down to kiss you again, his hands starting to roam again with purpose. Your arms came to twine around his neck as his hands grasped your thighs and tugged you forward.

You broke the kiss, startled, and looked up at him. “What are you doing?”

He reached over and grabbed his watch, wrapping your fingers around it. “Did ya ferget what I told ya, lovie? Remember? I said I’d have ya screamin’ me name in five minutes, an’ have ya cummin’ on me cock in ten.” Your eyes went wide as he reached down and undid his belt and jeans, pushing them down til his cock sprang out. It smacked against his lower abdomen, and you gulped as you took in its length and girth. Apparently, they grew ‘em big in Scotland. Holy shit.

“Now, love,” he murmured, grasping your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. “I’d advise ya to hang on, ‘cause I’m about to make good on the rest o’ that promise.”

And let it never be said that Johnny MacTavish was nothing if not a man of his word. Needless to say, you didn’t make it into work the following evening, not the way you were walking.

[m-1-8]

When sparring out of your weight class, you gotta fight dirty [part 2]

[whatev-i-guess]

Ghost: Hey, what's wrong?

Soap: Why do you assume that something is wrong?

Ghost: Because you are the sunshine of the team and your sun isn't shining.

Soap: Never asked to be the "sunshine", you all just made me one.

Ghost: Yeah okay, what's wrong with you today?

Soap: I am just... not feeling good.

Ghost gently taking Soap's hand: Well, then let me help you to feel better instead of pushing me away.

Soap: I am sorry...thank you, love.

Ghost: Don't mention it. No one can be happy all the time, Johnny.

[ghcstao3]

dragon shifter!ghost is indeed being written <3

[brewed-pangolin]

Manspreading Monday. Soap Edition.

Whichever dev decided Soap now sits like *this* deserves a pay raise

[tojisun]

!! it’s very silly and unserious and the only reason it’s long is because it’s so vivid in my head. unedited as hell </3

nosy neighbours tf 141 got me giggling. and it’s not even inherently sexy nor attractive, it’s really just them being in people’s (or a person’s) business.

thinking about how, in retirement, they still bought a house together because it’s so odd to have separate lives. and so they bought one in the suburbs, with five bedrooms and four baths, and a really big backyard. kyle picked up gardening so the backyard was not just a plus but a damn requirement.

so they move in, not giving a damn about that one old WASP couple across the street watching them all with a sneer because apparently moving in with your mates is unusual. well, whatever. fuck them.

then they meet their new neighbour. you’re single—divorced, price would tell them later—whose life is centred around your 9 to 5 job at an office in the city which you wake up at 5am for.

you leave the house at 6:30am and then amble back home when it’s pushing 8pm. it’s a boring life; a boring routine. not even your little front lawn of cared-for wild flowers managed to hold their attention longer than a day.

so with that said, they’d like to go on a record and say that it’s all johnny’s fault.

friday evening, he started the game by saying, “she bought a baguette.” he paused. “and a bottle? it's shaped like lube?”

john blinked, setting his book down. “what.”

mactavish shrugged, still peering from the crack in the curtains. kyle walked in then, his apron all dirtied. “hey, i’m craving a baguette.”

johnny laughed and looked at price like price was supposed to get something from that. of course he didn’t, but johnny’s always been good at carrying the momentum so, to no one’s surprise, he repeats the observation three days after the previous one.

“bag’o coal and lemon bread. what the hell.”

“that’s a disgusting dinner combo,” kyle chirps, switching the channels.

simon throws a pillow at him because he had been watching a documentary about moths when kyle changed the program without asking him.

“it’s just monday,” john finally replies, cementing his participation in the game. “why’s she buying lem—did she not grocery shop?”

johnny looks at him, wide-eyed. “that’s a good question, sir.” then he turns, ignoring them again to peer at their neighbour. john’s sure you’re back in your home so he really doesn’t know what johnny’s watching at that point.

simon was successful at wrestling the remote control back to him, and the program’s returned to the moths.

.

thursday evening, two and a half weeks after monday’s lemon bread and bag of coal, the game picks up again.

“who the hell makes a rug purchase during the weekdays?” kyle asks, his voice teetering between fascination and concern.

“how long’s the rug?” johnny replies, all of them watching as kyle stands in front of that slip of window they now use for ‘bird watching.’

kyle spreads his arms out—2.5 ft.

“huh,” johnny says. “for the toilet, you reckon?”

“probably for the cat, actually,” simon cuts in.

“what cat.” john doesn’t even know who asked that, but really—what cat?

“a round thing,” simon answers. “grey fur.”

“aww,” johnny croons. “that’s cute.”

john sighs and turns back to the morning paper’s crossword puzzle for the day.

.

you don’t join the neighbourhood’s annual summer barbecue party much to their disappointment. although, in all fairness, john understands your decision because they wouldn’t have gone to it anyway had they not found out that the host this year was going to be that WASP couple who still sneered at them every chance they get.

the wife, of course, couldn’t turn them away in front of the other neighbours who particularly loved kyle and, shockingly, simon so there they are, eating what is begrudgingly some good ribs while listening to the neighbourhood gossip.

and while each story was riveting, nothing could honestly hold a candle to their ‘bird’ and your peculiar grocery runs.

.

one evening, you come home with a man. john tells them it’s your ex-husband, admitting to them that yes, he’s now used up their once-a-month pass to accessing ‘special’ resources with regards to finding more about you.

“think they’re fuckin’?” johnny asks, no longer feigning disinterest.

kyle groans because it had been more than a minute now since johnny dropped a card from his stack; they tried their best to be patient as they waited, thinking mactavish needed more time since, apparently, he’s never played cards before—growing up as a catholic boy, he’s always been told that any form of gambling was a gateway to eternal damnation.

john didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t have to make bets to be able to play cards.

“maybe,” simon replies, ignoring kyle’s angry grumbling. “why else would she bring him home? her house ain’t really a wonder.”

“…how do you know that?” kyle asks, his words measured and slowed.

simon blinks, then he sniffs, before looking away.

“hey!” mactavish screams, catching on. “we agreed no tampering with anythin’ of ‘ers!”

“yeah? well tell ‘at to cap’n too—he was already there when i broke in.”

johnny turns to him with a theatrical betrayed look. kyle drops his head on the table because the game’s been fully abandoned now.

“sir,” johnny says, his voice airy like he’s speaking mid-gasp. “you didn’t.”

john licks the back of his teeth, then, “jus’ wanted to see ‘er cat, s’all.”

.

the ex-husband leaves three hours later with a familiar rug tucked to his side.

.

“huh,” simon murmurs, his voice so faint that john almost missed it. “tulips and tuna today.”

johnny and kyle would’ve loved the update but the two are away for the week.

john messages it to the group chat.

suds (19:21)

> holy shit she’s improving.

.

oddly enough, it took them six months since they moved in for them to finally talk to you.

or, well, for you to talk to them.

“i’m havin’ a yard sale tomorrow,” you say after the introductions have passed, your lips tugged up in a shy smile.

john honestly couldn’t even remember how he used to envision you—old age caught up to him and for a whole while, you were nothing but a coloured blob in his eyes since they turned out to be more damaged than expected—but whatever that had been was erased the moment you stood before them.

shy and awkward, your back slouched just a little like you’re trying to curl into yourself in the face of their rapt attention, but even then you’re beautiful.

“yeah?” kyle asks, smiling; the first to break out of the trance you put them into. “and would y’need help, pretty miss?”

“oh, you,” you murmur, strained laughter peeling from your lips. “and yeah, i do. would that be alright? i tried moving my old couch downstairs and my back almost gave out. i swear, i thought i was going to see the lord today.”

johnny laughs, loud and booming. “well we’re glad that you didn’t die today, otherwise who would take care of little truffle, huh?”

john barely stopped himself from heaving out a loud sigh, an attempt made more challenging when he caught the way kyle whirled his head to glare at mactavish, the act not any less subtle since it startled you too. simon grumbles something incoherent—it’s lost amidst johnny’s petering laugh and your swelling horror.

“…how, exactly, do you know my cat’s name?”

[gomzdrawfr]

Ghost In A Box 009

secret third option: Johnny

Ghost In A Box 008

[charliemwrites]

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

No Content Warnings

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[bunnys-kisses]

i've had a horrid idea in my head, don't look at me! (maid!reader feat. soap & ghost)

so basically

you get hired through the cleaning service that you work for, to help keep a house outside the city nice and clean. you are a bit confused why whoever hired you needed a maid who lived over two hours away. but, you were assured that it would be worth it and shuffled off.

you thankfully only had two go twice a week, mondays and wednesdays with your day off in the middle. the pay was above standard, pictures of the home were shown, along with profiles of the owners.

simon riley and john mactavish. they were army men who wouldn't be at the house as much as most customers. which was a relief. this was not however the case, as the more you spent coming over the house to clean, the more they seemed to be around.

the blond one with the face scars was simon and the burnette with the mohawk and the scottish accent was johnny (he made you call im johnny). it would taken several months before they made the first move.

it started with johnny brushing up against your backside while he was in nothing but pajama pants. his erection against you.

then the snowstorm happened. you were about the go home, determined to drive when the snow came down in heaps. the snowflakes were almost as big as a two pence coin.

you ended up staying, and johnny brought out the whisky! he told you it was the good stuff from the highlands as he served you a healthy glass. it still burned like a bastard when it went down, the disgusted face you made caused the other two men to laugh. when you tried to use the bathroom you heard simon's voice ring out, "oh, there she goes!". as the snow hit the ground outside, you got drunk with your customers.

which then resulted in coy kisses, followed by loud fucking in simon's room. it had the bigger bed but it didn't matter because your hands and knees ached by the of the night. as did the back of your throat (you couldn't talk the morning after) and your pussy (you sat in weird positions to ease the pain for a week after).

simon and johnny were bullies to you sexually. you were twisted like a pretzel as both men just fucked you without abandon. you were left gasping and it didn't help that it turned you on too! you were such a bad maid, but it was hard to believe yourself when both men grumbled your praises as they moved you once more to get at just the right angle.

you tried to give the appearance of keeping it professional, but when you ended up back at work your boss told you that simon and john needed more help before their deployment, so she had moved your customers to other maids.

your priority was to help those men anyway you could! "they're serving our country! they need as much as they can before they leave once more!"

it wouldn't take long before you pretty much moved your life into their home. when you called the resign from your job at the maid agency, johnny was between your legs while you were sitting on the kitchen counter. your free hand was in his mohawk, yanking on the strands. he had spent all morning encouraging you to quit your job, which mean being laid out behind you with his hand down the front of your panties. his calloused fingers rubbing your clit until you were practically yelping from the overstimulation!

one night when you were "helping them" simon was gone for several hours and came back with boxes of your stuff. everything was put in neatly, when you tried to ask why he simply said, "you can't be wearing our civvies forever." (as if the two men weren't going to buy you clothes or anything else you needed). but it was nice to have some stuff with you. you never asked how he got into the apartment though.

sometimes the boys will still play maid with you. johnny liked it when he got to push up the skirt of the maid's dress you were wearing and simon liked when he got to tear the garter under the skirt right off. johnny's cock was soon balls deep in your while simon licked your clit.

paycheck wasn't necessary anymore, not while you were living with them full time. living in the city was nice, you would always cherish your time in it! but it was a lot nicer being sandwiched between two burly men who would capture the sun and the moon and serve it to you on a silver platter. <3

[cod-dump]

Soap, running into Gaz’s office: KYLE I THINK GHOST IS-

Soap: *freezes when he sees Ghost sitting in Gaz’s chair*

Ghost: You think what, MacTavish?

Soap: *looks over and sees Gaz chilling on his couch*

Gaz: Don’t look at me. You fucked up

Soap, running out of the room: CAPTAIN-

Ghost, leaping over Gaz’s desk: OH NO YOU DON’T

Gaz, still on the couch: God, Mondays are always one of those days

[ohlawdthebirds]

Ace In The Hole

Platonic!141 x Gn! and Asexual!Reader

Huge thank you to @groguspicklejar for letting me turn her drabble into a full fic. You can find the drabble here.

TW: Nothing huge, slight NSFW because sex is mentioned in this fic.

Synopsis: Price is fed up with how much Soap and Gaz sleep around. He's at his wits end until you come up with a solution.

And credit to @cafekitsune for these gorgeous dividers.

FREE PALESTINE FOREVER!!!!

Captain John Price was a lot of things: a respected member of the armed forces, a diligent leader, and an overall powerhouse of a man. He’d survived weeks of bootcamp, hailstorms of bullets, and targets on his life at every given turn. That all being said, he found himself wondering where he went wrong in life. When did he, captain of an elite task force, become mediator for his subordinates’ squabbles?

Soap and Gaz sat in front of him, petulant as toddlers, arguing over their latest paramour. The two of them shared a barracks room and were arguing over a “sleepover schedule” so that all of their “needs” were being met. From what Price had gathered, they currently had no set schedule, leaving them walking in on each other while with their barrack bunny of the week.

Not for the first time, John Price considered an early retirement.

“Ye cannae take the whole week, ye bampot!” Soap was indignant over Gaz’s proposed schedule, one that would give him Monday through Thursday, leaving Soap with Friday and Saturday. Sundays were off limits. Even God rested.

“Ah’m no lettin’ ye keep the lass to yerself. Isnae fair now innit?” He cried.

“Fair? You want the bird all to yourself, then? As I recall, you were balls deep in her most of last week. Nearly had to pry you out of her, you arse!” Gaz tossed back.

It was no secret that the two of them were sluts. Whores, even. John “Soap” MacTavish and Kyle “Gaz” Garrick had a penchant for sleeping around. They’d bedded no less than half their battalion, bedded a fair number of civilians during their leaves, and even bedded each other on a few occasions. Price would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. But with these conquests came the inevitable: arguing over shared partners and said partners sometimes fighting over who got to sleep with whom. It was ridiculous, really.

They continued on until Price decided he was actively losing brain cells. He slammed his hands on the desk and stood from his chair. Two of his best and brightest froze in their seats, eyes wide as they stared at him.

“Right then, is there any particular reason you lot felt the need to have this discussion in my office? Clearly you two don’t have enough to keep you busy. Seems I’ll have to change that.”

Soap and Gaz loudly protested, voices overlapping each other’s. Price was gearing up to distribute both a mountain of paperwork and multiple laps around the building when a knock came from his office door. He fixed Soap and Gaz with a piercing stare that silenced them, before calling out for whomever knocked to come in. You stepped in, brows furrowed over the yelling you heard earlier.

“Everything okay in here, sir?”

Price nodded gruffly. “These two were done anyways. Boys, you’re dismissed.”

Once Price declared something there was no pushing back on it. The man was immovable once he made up his mind.

The two sergeants decided it was best to cut their losses then and there and continue their argument back in the barracks. They greeted you on their way out, Gaz gently clapping you on the shoulder and Soap bumping fists with you. Price sat back behind his desk and retrieved a cigar from a drawer.

“I thought you were on leave today?” the captain said.

 “Still am,” you replied, “Just wanted to make sure nothing came up before I left out.”

Price shook his head. “You’re all good, kid. See you Monday.”

You grinned and nodded. You were about to move towards the door but paused, turning to face Price. “Captain, I know it’s none of my business, truly, but I overheard what Soap and Gaz were arguing about before I came in. I think I could potentially help you out here.”

Price’s brow furrowed. You continued, “You know how competitive those two get, right? Why not use that against them? Make a bet to see who can go the longest without sleeping with anyone.”

Price ran a hand over his moustache as he considered. It wasn’t a bad plan. It was certainly one that had potential.

“Could work, certainly. But you know they won’t just accept a bet without a good prize, right?”

A smirk crossed your lips. “Of course, Cap, that’s where this gets interesting.” You leaned forward, eyebrows raised. Price indulged you, leaning forward himself.

“I enter this little competition. A third person will ensure they won’t try cheating, since they’ll have to keep themselves accountable. The winner not only gets to decide on whatever weird schedule thing they’ve got going on, provided all partners consent of course, but they also get dibs on the good seat in the chopper on our next mission.”

Price sat back in his chair, mulling it over. “Knew there was a reason we recruited you. Ace, you might have just saved me a weekend’s worth of headaches. I’ll inform those two gits.”

You grinned. This would certainly be interesting, especially since no one knew you had quite the “ace” up your sleeve.

-

It wasn’t a secret that you were asexual, it just wasn’t something that came up often. You never officially came out to the 141, deeming it unnecessary. When asked whether you were dating, you’d brush off the questions by answering that you weren’t all that interested. When prompted further if anyone on base had caught your eye, you’d respond that you were too busy. These things were true in a sense; being a sniper for the 141 certainly kept you busy and even during your downtime you found yourself preoccupied with whatever hobby you’d decided to indulge in that week or hanging out with your teammates. You lived a full life and considered dating relatively low on your list of priorities. There was also something deeply hilarious about your callsign being “Ace”, though it was referencing just how skillful you were with a sniper rifle. Entering this contest wasn’t anything difficult for you. In fact, you thought it would be interesting to see how your teammates would rise to the challenge.

-

The first week after Price announced the challenge was probably the funniest week of your life. Soap and Gaz were indignant, which you expected, but they accepted the challenge, nonetheless. When Price revealed that you were also in the running, they made it a point to corner you at the shooting range. You were reloading your gun when they walked in. Soap was the first to approach you, striding forward with his arms crossed.

“So, Price told us yer the one who proposed this whole contest, aye? Fir wye?” he asked.

You placed the gun down and turned to fully face your teammates. “’Why?’” you repeated back, “Because the two of you were causing chaos on base and Price was ready to assign you cleaning duty for the rest of your careers. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Well, we’re letting you know that we’ve accepted the challenge. That heli seat is mine,” Gaz said. After his incident from last year, Gaz made it a point to sit as far away from the helicopter door as possible.

“That’s fine by me,” You turned and picked the gun back up, “Though, I’m sure this’ll be easy.”

Gaz cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what makes you say that?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just excited to see how this’ll go.” You cocked the gun and aimed it, firing off a round into the center of the target paper.

-

After finishing at the gun range, you headed towards the canteen to grab lunch. It wasn’t until you’d grabbed your food and began to look for your teammates that you heard laughter bubbling up around the canteen. You ignored it, moving towards the back table where Ghost currently occupied a seat. Ghost didn’t acknowledge you when you sat down, his eyes trained just past your shoulder. Your brows furrowed and you quickly followed his line of sight, turning back towards the door. The moment your eyes locked onto Soap and Gaz you nearly fell out of your chair in shock.

They were dressed as nuns, and from what you could tell, they were wearing legitimate nun habits instead of cheap costumes from Halloweens past. They strode forward, faces solemn and hands folded in prayer. Soap fiddled with a rosary his mother had given him on his first deployment. They approached your table, made the sign of the cross, and sat down. Ghost shot incredulous looks at the both of them.

“What’s all this, then? Halloween come early?” He asked.

“We’ve taken a vow of chastity, Lt. The ol’ Johnny and Kyle are no more. We’ve devoted ourselves to prayer and abstinence. We’re men o’ the cloth now,” Soap replied.

“Shoulda’ taken a vow of silence,” Ghost tossed out, digging his fork into whatever mystery meat the canteen had slapped on his tray.

You and Kyle didn’t bother holding back your chuckles.

“You do realize the nun habits are unnecessary, right? Price never said you had to wear them.” You said.

“Yes, but this shows that we’re serious about this challenge,” Kyle piped up.

You fixed him with a deadpan stare. “There’s absolutely nothing serious about your current get-up. But okay.”

The rest of lunch passed without much else happening, save for the occasional snort of laughter from other personnel.

-

The second week was just as nonsensical as the first. You knew the terrible two were up to no good when jangling and clanking noises came from them as they walked into Price’s office. The men sat, albeit quite stiffly, and tried their hardest to ignore Price’s hard glare.

“What’s all that ruckus?” Price growled out.

Soap had the nerve to look as though his captain were speaking in riddles. “Ah’ dunno what yer on about Cap, we’ve done nothin’ wrong. Right Gaz?”

Gaz at least had the decency to look embarrassed. You placed down the file you were examining. “What’s all that clanking you two have got going on?”

Soap wasted no time in standing up and yanking down his pants. You were met with the sight of a leather and metal thong with a padlock over the crotch. A chastity belt. The man was wearing an honest-to-God chastity belt.

The room was stunned into silence. Gaz hung his head in shame. It only took you a moment to realize he was wearing the same contraption. Ghost was the first to break the silence.

“Those come with keys?”

“Why Lt? You lookin’ to unlock me?” Soap smirked at Ghost, still a flirt despite the clear restrictions on him.

“I’m lookin’ to throw those keys out the window,” Ghost replied dryly. You caught Price trying to stifle his laughter behind his fist.

“Do those hurt?” you asked.

“Nah, but they do pinch a bit. Mostly awkward to walk around in,” Gaz said.

Price stood from his desk and passed over more files. “If you’re all well and done, Laswell’s got a few updates from last week. Give these a read.”

You had to admit, there was something comical about reading over confidential information while knowing two men in the room had actual chastity belts on. Price soon dismissed you all back to whatever tasks you had on base. You headed to the gym with Ghost right alongside you. Soap and Gaz clanked out the door and down the hall.

“How long d’you think they’ll keep this up?” You asked once you were in the gym, scooting yourself underneath the bench press. Ghost shrugged, adding more weights to the bar.

“Depends on how just how committed they are to this whole thing. Though I’m sure they’ll break soon,” he answered.

“What makes you say that?” Your hands reached up to the bar, readying yourself to lift the weights.

“Just a feeling. Adjust your grip, you’ll kill yourself otherwise.”

“No, seriously, what makes you say that?” You gripped the bar, raising up and lowering it to your chest before raising it back up again.

“On the field, those are some of the smartest men I know. On base? Barkin’ mad, the both of ‘em. Surprised they even lasted this long.”

You racked the weights above your head once your set was finished. “You’re probably right. But you have to admit, this has been a pretty entertaining two weeks.” You looked up at Ghost, who seemed to be deep in thought.

“Why’d you join this contest anyways?” He asked.

You sat up and turned to him. “Because I knew it’d be an easy win. I don’t exactly…ah, well, I figured it’d be fun to see how things played out.”

Ghost grunted in reply. “Fair enough. Now give me twenty more reps.”

You groaned as you made your way back under the bar.

-

As it turned out, Ghost was right. The third week was when things reached their breaking point. You were on the hunt for a missing knife, one you’d lent Gaz a few days back. Ghost’s words replayed in your mind; were the sergeants reaching their breaking point? Would they soon throw in the towel?

You approached Soap and Gaz’s barrack, fist raised to knock, when you heard a noise that froze your fist mid-air. There was the sound of rustling and grunting. You jumped back from the door.

There was no way…unless?

You stepped forward again, rapping your knuckles against the wood. All sounds behind the door stopped. You were about to knock again when the door swung open.

You came face to face with Gaz, his eyes blown wide and his chest heaving.

“Gaz? You alright? Why are you so flushed?”

Your eyes caught sight of a bruise on the column of his throat. In fact, there were multiple bruises. Before he could raise his shirt to cover them, you yanked down the collar.

“Hold it, what’s this? What’s this, Gazzy-boy?! You get attacked by over-enthusiastic mosquitoes?!”

Gaz swatted your hands away. “N-no, this is just-! I burned myself earlier!”

Ignoring his protests you shouldered past him into the room, where you were met with the sight of Soap trying to pull on clothes as fast as humanly possible. You paused in the middle of the room and inhaled deeply. The air stunk of sweat and lust. Soap, having wrangled himself into pants, tried to approach you.

“Listen Ace, this isnae wit ye think it is. We were just havin’ a chat, Gaz’n ah. ”

You turned to him with a grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “Oh really? Because I think you two were having more than just a chat. And I think I just won the bet. And this-” You whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of the two of them, clothes disheveled, and skin marked with hickeys, “Is enough to prove it!”

With that you turned on your heel and booked it out the door, flying down the corridor and across the building towards Price’s office. Gaz and Soap ran after you, yelling for you to stop. The door to Price’s office nearly flew off the hinges when you barged in, phone held out in front of you. Price leveled you with a glower.

“This better be good, sergeant, otherwise you’re runnin’ laps for the next hour.”

“Oh, this is better than good, Captain, this is great.” You upped your phone’s brightness and slapped it on his desk. Price leaned over, squinting at the screen. It took only a moment for him to register what he was staring at before his eyes widened. Soap and Gaz barreled into the room, out of breath and speaking over each other.

“Cap, isnae wot ye think-!”

“Ace is framing us! We weren’t-!”

Price's face darkened. He stood from his desk, your phone in his hand.

“You fools couldn’t last 3 weeks?”

The room went dead silent, and you swore the temperature dropped a little. For a moment you wondered if you made a fatal mistake.

Price stalked forward, nearly towering over the three of you.

“Ace, you’ve won the bet. But I’ve just realized that we only discussed the reward and not the punishment for this. Any ideas?” He turned to you and handed your phone over.

Gaz and Soap shot you pleading looks, silently begging for you to be merciful. And for a moment you wondered if you should make them suffer, make them writhe. But in a moment of mercy, you decided against it.

“You know, I’m impressed that these two were able to find those nun habits and chastity belts. And such high quality too! You think they can find maid costumes?”

Price’s face lit up with the sick delight. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll manage. And I’m sure they’ll wear ‘em for the next three weeks too.”

Soap and Gaz’s faces were masks of pure shock. It was at that moment that Ghost walked into the office, a cup of tea in one hand and a file in the other. He stared at the scene in front of him, turned, and walked back out.

-

You were wrong. The weeks during the bet weren’t the funniest of your life. It was truly the weeks after that took the cake.

As per your request, Gaz and Soap procured maid outfits, complete with fishnet stockings and kitten heels. They were met with raucous laughter everywhere they went. The only one with a modicum of shame was Gaz, and even then, you caught him strutting his stuff when he passed you in the halls. Soap was happy to be back to normal. He even claimed that the costume was a hit with his partners that liked role-playing.

You saddled up next to Ghost in the rec room one night, thanking him when he brought down your favorite tea from the shelf. The two of you prepared your drinks in companionable quiet. Ghost turned to you, spoon halting in his cup.

“I would say congrats on winnin’ that bet, but I figured you would.”

You huffed out a gentle laugh. “Thanks, Lt.”

Ghost paused for a moment, seeming almost sheepish.

“You, uh…you never finished what you were saying, back when we were in the gym. Said you ‘didn’t exactly' and then you trailed off.”

“Oh, I can’t believe you remembered that. Yeah, I just…um…basically I don’t experience dating and relationships the same way everyone else does.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

You stopped stirring your tea. A part of you wondered if Ghost would understand, if he’d be supportive. You knew the man well enough that he wouldn’t ridicule you, but not everyone was understanding. It often felt like being asexual was a fringe thing. You sucked in a deep breath. Regardless of anyone’s feelings, you were asexual. It was real and anyone who said otherwise could get a mouthful of your boots.

“I’m asexual. Don’t really experience sexual attraction, y’know? Like, when you see someone others deem “hot” or “attractive” or whatever and want to have sex with them? I don’t understand that, and that desire doesn’t really happen to me. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a libido, its just never directed towards any one particular person. It’s a whole spectrum.”

You ended your ramble with a sip of tea.

“Oh, so that’s what it’s called? Didn’t realize there was a name for it,” Ghost muttered. You stiffened, cup halted in midair.

“When’d you figure that out?” Ghost asked.

“Kinda knew I was different when I began faking crushes on people back in school. And anytime those “crushes” reciprocated, I was weirded out by it. I did have real crushes, but those came a bit later. I’ve dated before, and thankfully my partners were understanding. I even had sex once! Just to try it out. It was…y’know, it was fine but I’m still definitely asexual.” You trailed off with a nervous laugh. “Sorry for the ramble, but whenever people ask, I try to explain everything, so I don’t have to keep answering questions.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” Ghost said. He cleared his throat. He seemed stuck between wanting to ask more and wondering if he was asking too much. In the end, you looked over and said: “I have a few books on it if you ever want to read up more on the subject. They helped me out a lot.”

Ghost said nothing, only nodding. He gently clinked your cup with his before he turned and headed towards the door. He stopped at the door frame and looked back over his shoulder.

“Hey Ace?”

You sipped more of your tea.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You smiled.

“Anytime, Ghost.”

[sillygoose343]

COD But If They Were Gen Z Brainrot Things

COD but if they're brainrot. (I don't know what possessed me to do this, uni exams are causing me to tweak).

I formally apologise to: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Kate Laswell, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Nikolai, Phillip Graves, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Vladimir Makarov

i did NOT take this seriously 🥴im jit yapping

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

Ghost - monday left me broken

Soap's dead, Roach's dead, Mara's dead (in the mobile comics), monday left him broken.

If I were to recount *all* of the shit that he had to go through, I would be here for awhile but I know we know what our Ghost had experienced, he's broken but he's still kicking! Onto Tuesday, Wednesday!

So I think it's a fair assessment for him to be monday left me broken

I also think he listens to the song unironically sometimes

Captain Price - smurf cat

Do I really have to explain this one?

I guess COD nation sees Papa Smurf in him but the thing about smurf cat is that it has a hat, therefore it must be Price

The resemblance is uncanny sometimes (it's just a hat)

i don't have much to say, it's literally just appearance-based for this one

Soap - prime and lunchly

soap is the type of guy to walk into the recording studio and come out with "from the screen, to the ring, to the pen, to the king, where's my crown? that's my bling, always drama, when i ring. see i believe that if i see it in my heart, smash through the ceiling, 'cause i'm reaching for the stars." look me in my metaphorical eyes and tell me im wrong

he would be guzzling down the cherry freeze after a long hard day of training

he likes his cheese drippy bruh

he kinda looks like haley welch if you squint

Gaz - gaining aura

I LOVE GAZ RAAAAH

Look at him? He literally can't physically lose aura?

I'm biased towards Gaz

Even breathing can earn this man aura, there is something innately charismatic and charming about Gaz to the point that even if he trips on air or accidentally walks around with an open bag, typically aura-losing activities, he just wouldn't lose any.

Look at him

He is Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.

Roach - cooked

well, technically, 'cooked' typically indicates that a food item has been processed through fire, at least usually

but i guess this is using the brainrot terminology, still, that changes nothing

cooked in brainrot means to be struggling, done for or that the situation is just bad, the entire brazilian militia being after his ass after he fell from the roof was one of his most iconic moments, he had many cooked moments in the campaign but that one truly defined him, he was, in fact, cooked

literally and figuratively

Laswell - galvanised square steel

galvanised square steel is an extremely durable material, is able to transform even the smallest 1mx1m square apartment into a fully functional multi-purpose home with the assistance of eco-friendly wood veneers and

as ghost put it, "laswell's still solid as a rock" except, she's as solid as galvanised square steel

she's reliable, resilient and shes like the foundation as the galvanised square steel while 141 is like the eco-friendly wood veneers

Alejandro - oil up

one could say that all men in cod could represent 'oil up' but i think alejandro embodies the 'oil up' phrase

im actually just straight tweaking when i say this but i think he'd have a similar community to orange peanut's if he ever became an influencer, like different content but his comment section would be filled with 'when are you going to oil up'

i also think he'd be the kind of guy to gladly oil up on request, granted there was an ample amount of oil

Rodolfo - livvy dunne

rudy doesn't really strike me as a rizzer more like a rizzee (im tweaking so hard right now)

he seems like the type of guy to get rizzed up by baby gronk and then promptly train for his gymnastics or something

there's not much to comment on here, just that he looks like the type of guy to be rizzed

Nikolai - metal pipe sound effect

nikolai is unique in the sense that i think he encapsulates the metal pipe sound effect rather than a phrase or a brainrot figure

i have a feeling that during violence and timing gaz would agree with me

i have a feeling that the butcher in mw2019 would also agree with me

he's a menace but no brainrot compilation is the same without the metal pipe sound effect so :333

Phillip Graves - only in ohio

that gif shows up when i search for ohio

i feel like this one is very self-explanatory

in some instances gyatt and ohio can be used interchangeably so i would also consider him having the dual position of embodying gyatt and ohio at the same time, lucky bloke

König - alpha wolf

furry könig skin

furry wolf skin, no further commentary needed

Horangi - 99% of gamblers quit before they hit big

that is just what he did

Makarov - skibidi toilet

we have all seen the smile skin

skibidi toilet is evil incarnate, poisoning the minds of the children, even in the lore of skibidi toilet it is evil and direct antagonistic villains towards camera head people, sounds just like makarov

the smile skin is like the mould on lunchly cheese, its the outward thing you see but the evil of skibidi toilet like makarovs evil is like the mould spores inside the cheese

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

it is now nearly 3am, im so failing my histology class man

[brewed-pangolin]

Oh my....

With that mistletoe placement, I'm going straight to the lifetime naughty list.

Soap Squad President approves of this message.

Mistletoe mancandy series

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Part 2 to: The Lieutenant's Whore

Dom!Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader, John "Soap" Mactavish x fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" Mactavish, Reader

Summary: Hearing what he shouldn't have, Johnny is rightfully angry and what does he let that anger lead to? A bad attitude that leads to even worse decisions. As you confront him about this sudden change in demeanor, things start to heat up. What happens when Simon finds out? Actions have consequences and Johnny is about to learn that you will only ever belong to the man behind the mask.

Word Count: 11.6 k

Warnings:

The promise of going one more round had kept you in Simon’s bed, completely naked and filthy as you eagerly waited for him to get hard again. Another shared cigarette was being passed between you both to wile away the time so there was no real need for conversation; you didn’t come here to have a heart to heart, though you would have waited for hours and hours if it meant you could experience even more of the depravity that had just transpired.

As the burning smoke was exhaled out of your lungs and past your lips, a thought popped into that devious little head of yours. “You do realize that it’s the weekend, don’t you?” you questioned him casually as you passed back the cig for him to take a drag.

Simon placed the stick between his lips and drew the poison deep into his chest. “What of it?” he questioned back before he upturned his eyes at you with a smirk on his lips, letting you know that he was on to your train of thought. “You got somewhere to be, luv?”

You chuckled. “I sure do,” you played as you moved yourself onto him to straddle his lap between your thighs. You held up your fingers to count off things one by one. “Let’s see, where do I start? There’s on my back, on my knees, bent over with my ass in the air. It’ll probably take a couple days to get to it all.”

Simon shook his head with a roll of his eyes as he dug his meaty fingers into the bulk of your ass before giving it a swift smack. “So what I’m hearing is that I’m going to be absolutely knackered come Monday, is that it? Does my little slag want me to keep her dicked down all weekend?”

“As if you had a fucking choice,” you said with a devious smirk, “though it is easier to have you on board of your own volition. Do you know how hard it was waiting to do this again? Oh, no you’re gonna make it up to me and my sore fingers by keeping me busy for the next two days.”

As if he was ever going to say no to that proposition; as long as you both stayed locked up in here, no one would notice that you two had started something that would not be easily stopped. “You goin’ soft on me already? Can’t stand to think ‘bout bein’ away yet?” Simon picked mercilessly.

“You wish, bitch,” you didn’t even miss a tick, “there’s only one thing I’d miss and it’s situated between my legs right now.”

For emphasis, you rocked your hips over that meaty appendage and felt a twitch. Coming back from the dead already. Good, you’d give it a bit more to make sure that it would keep growing. Once it was quite stiff, you stopped rolling your hips and sat still; he was gonna pay for that remark.

“But, I need to grab a few things from my room before we go again,” you continued. “I will need to clean myself from time to time and lord knows I’m not about to use whatever 5-in-1 you have rotting away in the back of your shower.”

Of course you’d pull this shit the minute his cock was almost fully hard again. Fucking infuriating skank, why the hell did you make him enjoy the torture so goddamn much? Your palms were against his bare chest for leverage as you were about to move back off of him, when his hand firmly clasped around your chin to keep you in place. Going toe to toe with you since last night had been a thrill and even now he enjoyed matching your energy.

“Fine, I’ll let you go, but you’ve got approximately ten minutes to get your shit and get that sweet arse back here,” he said, drawing your face into his until his lips were nearly on your own. His breath was harsh from the tobacco, but you didn’t care; you liked him best filthy. “Best hurry, luv, cause if I’m left waitin’ with this stiffy any more than what I’ve fuckin’ given you, I’ll make you ride the tip of my boot with your bare pussy until you’re beggin’ and pleadin’ with me to do you proper.”

Fuck. That was enough motivation to get your heart racing and ready to go and you quickly swung your leg off of him so you could exit the bed. His eyes stayed glued to your back as you went in search of your discarded clothing that lay scatter around his floor. As you redressed, those auburn eyes traced the outline of your bare ass until it vanished behind the tight fabric of your jeans.

“Hate to see you leave, but goddamn is it a fuckin’ pleasure to watch you go,” Simon purred through the billowing smoke of another cigarette as he watched you throw back on your disheveled shirt so you could make it across base without gathering an indecent exposure charge.

You shot him one more quick glance before rushing off. He had pulled the sheet up just over his legs and lap as he lay propped up against the wall with his arm behind his head. It was hidden behind the fabric, but you could still see the outline of his cock starting to tent it up and that only made you want to hurry even more. No sense in wasting all that for some clean clothes and a bit of shower gel.

It was still pretty early as you stepped outside Simon’s quarters, the sun’s first light had barely even started to lighten the sky yet so you felt sure that no one would be skulking around to see you leave. Not after last night anyway; most of the others were probably just tucking in to sleep off the booze. You crossed through the base with not a care in the world other than getting back to what was waiting for you beneath the covers.

What you could not have known was that someone close by had heard the sound of the Lieutenant’s door opening and you making your way out. Soap had wanted nothing more than to sleep off not just the alcohol, but the sinking feeling in his chest at what he had stumbled upon earlier in the evening; his mind had other plans though and after sitting in the silence of his room, letting the agitated thoughts run rampant through his mind, he had decided to leave before he worked himself up more than he already was and did something really fucking stupid.

A striking set of blue eyes clocked you nearly running through the base back to your barracks, still wearing the same damn clothes you had on the night before. Soap bristled at the sight as he felt that burning anger welling up in his stomach once again, which only got worse when he saw you exiting the barracks in the same quick manner with a bag now strapped to your shoulder.

He didn’t want to, but quietly he followed behind just out of sight and sure enough you were returning right back to the Lieutenant's room just as he feared. As he watched Simon meet you at the door with just the sheet from his bed barely clinging to his hips and drag you back inside, he felt his heart sink straight into his feet as his fists balled themselves tightly together.

If this was a one and done thing, a drunken mistake that you had let run its course, then Johnny was sure he could get another chance to win you over. But seeing you return to that room destroyed any hope he had that he would get the opportunity to show you that he could give you an experience just as spectacular as what he had heard through the walls in that brief moment.

Kicking the dirt beneath his boots, he stormed off back to his private quarters and entered with an agitated huff as he slammed the door behind him; he couldn’t risk anyone seeing him like this and asking their dumb questions that would surely rotten his mood even further. The wall shook as the door made impact within its frame, the percussive sound reverberating off the walls. “Fucking pussy,” the Scot cursed himself. “Ye lost yer chance at her because ye had to be a lovesick pup. All fur whit?”

Cracking his knuckles before re-clenching his fists, he pulled back his arm and released it directly into the wall. It was enough to make the wall give, but luckily not enough to leave a permanent mark. “Now she’s getting fucked by that bastard,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “That was suppose tae be us in my bed. ‘twas mah name she was suppose tae be moanin’.”

His anger was supposed to be directed at himself, as there was no other that was to blame. Who was the one that pussyfooted around the topic whenever it seemed to present itself? Who was the one that got to worked up at times to meet your obvious flirting with some of their own? And who was the motherfucker that decided to let you leave the bar that night without even asking you if you wanted to go back to his, when you had been all over him all night? All of it was Johnny’s fault in the end.

It was clear he had let his crush mess with his head and though he should have taken the loss and moved on, his mind decided it would rather put that anger towards someone else and that new target would have to be the Lieutenant; he was the one that got to have you while Johnny sat alone with only his hand to keep him satisfied.

So now Simon would have to deal with Johnny’s wrath. And he made sure to start putting that aggression to good use before the day was even out.

Sweat was pouring and limbs were entwined, cock pumping in and out of a tight hole when several hours later a loud knock sounded through the room, making you startle with a jump and Simon grumble with agitation. Try as he might to regain composure to continue, it was shattered when again a loud bang rang out.

Pulling out of you and hopping out of bed in a flurry of anger as he threw on a pair of sweatpants laying near to cover himself, he crossed the room and wrenched the door open only to be met with - nothing. He stuck his head out to look around the area, but it was quiet and undisturbed with not a soul in sight, which only pissed him off more.

You silently listened, curious as to what the intrusion to the middle of your screwing was, but there wasn’t a sound. With a grumble under his breath Simon shut the door and made his way back to you. “Fuckin’ nothing,” he confirmed, slipping quickly back out of his pants and joining you under the covers.

“Whatever it was, it’s done now,” you said trying to get him to focus back on the task at hand. “We probably needed a breather anyway.”

“Done already, sweetheart?” he smirked, setting the tone back to what it was before you were both so rudely interrupted. Frustration be damned, there was still fun to be had.

You shook your head before extending your finger and poking it straight into the middle of his chest. “Now you’re just wasting time. Get back inside me before you regret it.”

And just like that he was back in the moment as he shoved you onto your back, getting between those legs once again like the good little soldier he was to pepper your tits with a flurry of kisses.

Before evening hit that same instance happened twice more, always when you both were in the thick of it when things were the most heated and not easily stopped; it wasn’t as if you weren’t taking breaks, but whenever those long stretches of time came around, they passed by undisturbed. It was clear that someone was doing this on purpose, but the question was why? You were going out of your way to be as quiet as you could, though there were a few times you just couldn’t help it. Still, if someone had a problem with the sound, why not just say something since no one knew you were in there?

It was all very strange, but since the perpetrator couldn’t be caught you tried not to give it more mind; no sense in ruining your weekend. That was until you entered the dining hall that night for supper with Simon in toe like your own personal scary guard dog, and you noticed a significant shift in the atmosphere.

Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that you and Simon were in close proximity and hoping to keep the status quo so that your little secret wouldn’t be found out, you had decided to sit and eat separately. It wasn’t what either of you wanted, but you’d be back in each others company soon enough after you refueled.

Looking through the hall for a place to sit, you caught sight of Soap sitting off from the main group he usually hung with. It struck you as odd; it wasn’t like him to eat alone. Grabbing your food, you made your way over to him and took up a spot by his side. There was a noticeable shift in him the moment you stepped near; where he had been close and talkative before, now there was distance and silence that filled the space between your bodies as he didn’t even bother to greet you. That was not normal at all.

“Hey you, fancy meeting you here.”

You watched as his back tensed as if he had been spooked, caught off guard from being lost in deep thought, but he did not say anything in return to your greeting.

“Everything alright?” you asked as you took your seat, setting your food down and turning your body to face him in your seat with a curious eyebrow raised.

Soap quickly looked at you before he diverted his gaze into his plate, messing about the food with the tip of his fork. It looked as if he hardly had even take a bite yet. “Fine,” he answered curtly, still not meeting your eyes.

It sounded off to you and the whole thing just felt wrong, though maybe you were simply reading too much into it. The alcohol had been plenty last night and it was possible the Sargent had just overdone it after you had left the bar. That was a rare occurrence for sure, but it did happen every once and a while; perhaps last night was just another time you could add to the tally. Nudging him in the ribs with your elbow, you tried to cut the tension with a joke.

“Did the liquor make you her bitch?” you picked, expecting the usual cheeky comeback about him being able to hold his own, but you were only met with him jerking away while his spine visibly bristled at your touch.

He cleared his throat. “No.”

The reply felt even shorter than the prior one and whether or not he was going to admit to anyone right now, something was definitely wrong. “Okay, okay,” you said as you held your hands up in surrender, “just trying to make conversation, but I can see you’ve got your fucking knickers in a twist.”

Nothing, not even a smirk. Whatever it was that got to him had really sunk its fangs in deep. Fine, no more picking since that seemed to only make it worse. Maybe a deviation in conversation would work better.

Picking up your own fork, you began to mess about with the food on your plate. “You know, I really had a good time with you last night. We really need the team to get out more often when we have the time so we can have more fun together.”

The clang from his fork hitting his plate as he threw it down caused those around to look up at the both of you. The suddenness of his action shut you up as you waited to see what he would do next. Quickly he stood from his seat and gathered his things, still without ever making eye contact; he wasn’t going to sit there and listen to anymore of this inane bullshit, not when he was actively trying his best to forget the way you felt against him and all that pent up sexual tension he couldn’t hope to explore anymore.

“Ah gotta go,” he muttered as he left you sitting there, wondering what the hell happened.

You watched him leave the hall before you turned your sight over to Simon sitting not far from you and shot him a look of ‘what the fuck’, which was only met with a subtle shrug. He had noticed the unusual interaction as well, though you knew his feelings about you and Soap, so it wasn’t much consequence to him that he was leaving you alone now. At least he wouldn’t be trying anything with you again as long as he was away.

Still, with the incidents earlier, it was just too much of a coincidence to fully ignore the change in him. You ended up eating in silence just thinking over everything that had happened since the bar in hopes that maybe you could figure it out, but by the time you were finished you had nothing and so you let it be. Besides, Simon was already staring at you, waiting for you to discreetly follow him back to that den of sin that would be your residence for another day so you could end the weekend on a good note.

And what a glorious fucking time it was. The knocking only happened once more and Simon had not even stopped that time. “If it’s important, they’ll fuckin’ say so,” he had grunted as his pace didn’t even slow while he continued pounding into you.

Those sheet were absolutely ruined by the time you were both finished, covered in enough stains to create an entirely new pattern on the fabric, though neither of you were complaining; you didn’t have the strength to. Shit, it was a bitch to even think about leaving, though you knew that you had the privilege back that whenever the mood struck again all you had to do was come find him.

And yet even though you were going to leave there completely and utterly satisfied, something was still eating away at you and it had everything to do with a certain Scot with a newfound sour attitude.

“Something is seriously up with him,” you conjectured as you were drying off after just getting out of the shower, before you were set to get dressed and leave. “I have a sneaking fucking feeling he knows something is up. I think I should talk to him before this gets out of hand. I’ll probably try and catch him some time this week for a little chat; if he does have suspicions we don’t need him spreading that shit around.”

“Probably should avoid being alone with him when you do it,” Simon added.

You paused. “Is that for my benefit or yours?” you shot him a knowing look.

He stared right back at you. “Yours if you know what’s fuckin’ good for ya,” he said firmly. “He’s livid now, but there’s no sense in risking him tryin’ to get close to ya again.”

“Oh, possessive much?” you chided him. “I can handle myself.”

Getting up from his seat on the bed, he moved in and his aggressive kiss hit your mouth quickly. “Never said you couldn’t,” he returned as he broke the connection. “But I don’t want no manky bastard tryin’ anything with you, ever. I meant what I said, sweetheart.”

You kissed him back once more. “I’ll be fine.”

A swift smack to your backside punctuated your kiss. “Fine,” he conceded. “Now, get your arse outta here before I change my mind about lettin’ you go back to your bed.”

It was a few days before you found the time to actually address the Soap situation, as whenever you went looking for him the man could not be found. Literally, you would hang around his usual places, hoping to casually run into him and strike up conversation, but it wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t till the middle of the week when opportunity presented itself and found you at the right place and time. As you were passing through the superior’s offices on other business that evening, you saw it just out of the corner of your eye. The bright, florescent overhead light shone from inside his office; he seemed to be the last one still there, working late. Immediately you jumped at the chance to confront him, your feet carrying you quickly in that direction before he had the possibility to evade you once again. Whatever this was that persisted between you both was going to get resolved one way or another right here and fucking now.

Rapid fire knocks upon the open door to his small office made Johnny look up from his seated position behind his desk where he sat busy with paperwork and the moment his sight clocked you, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Can I come in?” you asked.

Johnny immediately diverted his gaze just as he had been, his emotions getting the better of him. “Ah’m kind o’ busy at the moment,” he brushed off your question as he pretended to busy himself with the papers on his desk, but you weren’t satisfied with that.

You took a deep breath as you stepped over the threshold. “Look, I think we need to talk.”

“Ah dinnae think we do,” he scoffed back.

See, again this wasn’t normal. There was no way in hell the old Johnny wouldn’t jump at the fucking chance to engage in chitchat if it meant you would stick around. Something had crawled up his ass, that was certain, you just didn’t know what.

“Johnny,” you said, brow furrowed at this sudden shift in attitude towards you lately. “What’s goin-”

“It’s Sargent tae ye,” he snapped, immediately shutting you up and cutting you off before anymore could be uttered, “’n’ ye’ll do well tae mind that.”

“Well excuse me,” you said angrily, instantly agitated by the way he had just jumped down your throat unprovoked. “What the fuck has got into you lately? Maybe you want to fill me in as to why all of a sudden you want to act like a bitch and pull this rank shit with me? I thought we were friends.”

“Friends?” he repeated the word with a sneer.

“Yes, friends,” you reiterated. “Ya know, pals? Good buddies? Or was I wrong?”

You had come here under the best of intentions, to clear the air of whatever the hell was going on, but his sudden hostility towards you changed all that without a second thought. Johnny wanted to continue with this bullshit then you were going to match that energy; you weren’t one to be fucked with. Even still, you needed to get down to the bottom of just how much he knew and fast.

What he said then took you by surprise. “What? Ah thought ye got wet by men in higher ranks,” the statement slipped angrily from his lips.

“Excuse me.”

Finally he looked back up into your face. “Did ye think ah wouldn’t fin’ oot about what it is ye’re up tae, hmm?” he questioned. “Aboot ye ‘n’ Ghost getting far tae familiar. Oh, thought yer wee secret was safe did ye?”

You stared back at him, furious. How the hell had he found out about that? Had he been following you when you didn’t realize it? You swore you’d been more than careful at keeping all that on the downlow. “I knew you were sweet on me, but fuck Johnny, you stalking me now?”

He shook his head. “Maybe ye should learn how tae fuck more quietly, lass,” he scoffed. “Ye’re lucky the whole base didnae hear ye taking th’ Lieutenant like a fuckin’ whore the other night, though now that ah think aboot it maybe they should. Maybe Price would like tae hear aboot this gross miss use o’ rank manipulation by one o’ his favorites.”

Oh, so this is what it was all about…that bit alone made it blatant; it was him that had been trying to sabotage you getting dicked good by the big man on base and it was all because he was jealous. His snide, underhanded comment made that crystal clear. You should have seen this coming a mile away, what with how he was practically in your pants at the bar that night, but being blinded by an overabundance of top quality dick can make anyone blind. Still, you never thought he would go as far as to threaten you; honestly you didn’t think he had it in him and it caught you slightly off-guard.

“Why don’t you just shut up and admit it,” you shot back with white hot aggression at his weak attempt at blackmail. “Admit that the only reason you’re standing here right now acting like this is because you didn’t get to tap it first. You had your chance the other night, do you know that? Shit, you had even more chances than that if we’re both being honest, it’s not my fault you didn’t jump on any of them. You snooze you loose, bitch, and now it’s the Lieutenant that gets all this to himself.”

Johnny had never been jealous of the masked man before the other night, but hearing that he had squandered his chances to have you only made his blood boil in his veins. All the time you had both spent together, all the flirting, was it all for nothing because he wasn’t headstrong enough to be his usual cocky self and go after what he wanted?

And then the bar, he hated to think it, but was that all a part of some big game? He had had his suspicions the way Simon had stormed out of there that night and you following not long after, but so entranced by your company he was that he let it slide. Now that he really thought it through it was something he had to push out of his mind because he knew he might not like the answer if he thought about it for much longer.

Cheeks burning and mouth dry, his emotions got the better of him and Johnny couldn’t stop the shit spewing forth from his mouth as he rose to stand on his feet. “Ye think ye’ve won th’ lottery, dinnae lass? Sure, L.T. might be able tae give yer body what it needs, I dinnae know what kind o’ game he’s got, but what aboot when he’s finished? Ye think he’s really th’ best option tae keep aroond?” he questioned, as he moved out from around his desk, closing the distance between you both with a few steps. “A’ve been soft aroond ye because of my feelin’s, but if ye wanted someone tae treat ye like a slag in th’ bedroom all ye had to do was say so. But what aboot after that though? How aboot also bein’ treated like a princess in public, cause if that’s th’ case yer lookin th’ wrong direction Bonnie. L.T. dinnae seem the type for that sort o’ thing.”

“And what if I like being treated as only a toy and nothing more, hmm?” you pressed him. “Maybe I don’t want to be your princess; maybe I like being a whore?”

Damn, he knew you were rough around the edges, a strong broad who knew exactly what she wanted, but something about a girl who wasn’t about to let a man make her feel weak in any sense of the word only made him want you more. Tough women who posed a challenge to win over made the Scotsman weak in the knees.

“An what aboot when he gets tired of ye, hmm? Ye know he will. Ye gonna come crawlin back tae me then?”

You smirked; god, he was trying his hardest to slide his way between you and Simon. Could you really blame him? No, but that didn’t make his disrespect any less. “Is this your angle? Talk shit and think it’s gonna change my mind, like I don’t know what the hell I’m getting myself into. Cause that’s pathetic.”

The corner of his lip upturned. “Na, pathetic is th’ way I’d have ye begging me fur more before Ah’m done, baby girl.”

Well damn, that wasn’t half bad, you thought with a chuckle. Eyes locked to his, you gave him a impressed nod. “I almost believed you, good job,” you praised his performance mockingly. “But I’m not some little girl that you can just throw on the charm and seduce; you think you know the type of woman I am, but you’ve only hit the tip of the iceberg baby. You gonna talk a big game, big man, you gonna have to live up to it.”

“Who says ah cannae?” he pushed back. “Maybe ye dinnae know me as well as ye think ye do either. Maybe ye’re afraid tae admit how much you want me.”

As if you had so easily forgotten how he used to act before his little heart had grown attached to you; like you hadn’t been there times before where he had picked up a girl from the bar, using not only the charm of his quick wit, but his slick attitude to win her over. Perhaps he had forgotten that you had not always been the object of his desire, but that was besides the point.

Johnny was trying to cross a dangerous line with you and that would not stand, not one fucking bit. Offended wasn’t the words because let’s be honest, being lusted after was anything but euphoric. However, if he thought he could come between you and Simon he had another thing coming; no matter what he did, there was no way you would not be immediately running back to the ghost-masked man of your desire. That didn’t stop you from playing the game though.

“I’m genuinely curious now since you want to talk your bullshit,” you said. “I know you have a cocky streak in you a mile wide so come on, let’s see it; show me what you got if you have the balls for it. Cash in on the checks that that mouth of yours is making. But, you know if ‘he’ finds out what you’re doing its not gonna end well for you.”

You thought calling his bluff would make him back down, but your challenge had the opposite effect now. The short distance that still existed between you both was now reduced to nothing and you could feel a muscular arm sneaking its way around your hip towards your back before he sharply snapped it back into himself with you in its grasp, pressing your body fully up against him. “Ah’m not scared o’ th’ likes o’ him.”

“You should be,” you smirked. “You think he likes to share? If you’re not careful you are gonna be in a lot of pain.”

That hand at your waist slithered its way down to your ass, where he palmed it and gave it a tight squeeze over your pants as he made your hips grind against him. “A’m done talkin aboot him ‘n’ what he wants,” Johnny said. “How aboot we talk aboot if ye want me tae stop.”

Fuck, the air suddenly felt thick with forbidden lust and though you would never belong to anyone other than Simon, it was hard not respond to Johnny’s overwhelming intensity for you in that moment. His other hand not currently gripping your ass found its way to the back of your head and he laced his fingers through the strands of your hair where he held them locked down before pulling to make your head jerk back and expose your neck.

Leaning in, his breath wafted over the tender flesh down towards your collar bone. Nostrils caught the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with your natural musk and it made his head spin. “Ye think ye know whit a’m capable o’, Bonnie, but ye have no idea. Why dinnae show ye just a taste o’ it? Think ye can handle it?”

You stayed silent as he brought his head in closer towards your own, his lips inching in towards your mouth steadily. Confident and headstrong looked good on him; he should have started with that from the beginning and maybe you both would have moved past friends sooner, but now that you knew what true domination felt like, he could never hope to live up to that. As good as you felt in his arms, there was no forgetting the man who was consistently making you come.

“Please, can I handle it?” you mocked. “I’d have you whimpering on your fucking knees in an instant if I wanted to.”

“We’ll see aboot that, lass,” he said as his lips were almost upon yours, his growing hard-on pressing into the bulk of your thigh. Desperate boy, you thought. The warm, sticky heat moistening the air around your mouths from your mixed breaths, his grip on the back of your head tightening as he agonizingly rendered the distance between you to near zero, made your pulse quicken in response under his touch. Just before that first connection…his lips nearly there…you could almost taste him…a voice boomed into the room from the door making you both jump.

“Mactavish!” a gruff voice bellowed out from right at the doorway, making the Scot’s head turn with a snap towards its source. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’? You off your goddamn rocker?”

There he was in all his glory, the owner of your cunt, standing there menacingly as he took up the entirety of the exit with his size; his eyes flared with an overwhelmingly intense hatred for the man currently putting his hands all over what belonged to only him.

Leaning in towards his ear as Johnny kept his sight on a pissed off and fuming Simon, you chuckled low and seductive. “Uh oh, someone’s in trouble,” you said in sing song fashion. “Told ya.”

Stalking inside with a huff as his pulse raced through his veins to make his body shake, Simon slammed the door to the office shut behind him and locked it, securing all three of you inside until he decided when and if he would release you. That strong jaw shifted back and forth under his mask as he ground his teeth together to stop the rage that would surely make him end up in military police custody for homicide from consuming him, though if Johnny didn’t let you go soon those twitching muscles in his forearm from his clenched fist would soon be connecting with whatever he could get his hands on.

“This doesn’t concern ye L.T.,” Johnny spat, still clinging to you tightly, “I sugges’ ye leave.”

“Fuck no, this directly involves me,” Simon hissed, cracking his knuckles that were itching to bash his skull in. The vitriol in his voice had enough of an acidic bite in it that it could have burned a hole through the fucking floor. “You currently have your filthy mitts all over something that doesn’ belong to ya. I sugges’ if you want to keep those hands attached to your goddamn arms you will get them off ‘er, now.”

“Ah think she can decide fur hers-,” Johnny tried to hold his ground, but that was not about to last. There was no chance in hell he could out intimidate the master of intimidation.

Simon cut him off abruptly before he could continue with this blatant disrespect by getting directly into his face, planting his boots firmly into the ground in case he needed to take more drastic action to get the bastard to release you back to him. The hate-filled glare that bore into Johnny’s eyes made a sneaky shiver run up his spine. “Do you think this is a fucking game, mate?” Simon threatened low and menacing, his accent getting more heavy with his growing anger. “I am not fuckin’ playin ‘round here. Get your filthy fuckin’ hands off of what isn’t yours. Now.”

The rage brewing within Simon’s words were not meant to be taken lightly and as he wasn’t about to move until you were free, there was nothing more he could do. Looking back towards you once again, Johnny bit his lip hard to stop himself from popping off without thinking things through and ripped his hand out from around the small of your back and off your hip.

“Come ‘ere,” Simon snapped his fingers at you and you shot Johnny one last look of ‘I did try to warn you’ as you crossed in front of him towards your lover.

Christ, that was too close for comfort and Simon needed to re-stake his claim right then and fucking there before he lost his goddamn mind; you were his. His. And Johnny was going to have to understand that right this fucking minute. Keeping this whole thing a secret only worked when no one was trying to worm their way between you both, now that Simon had seen with his own two eyes how his treasure had almost been stolen by someone he called friend he couldn’t see straight; he had to rectify this now and there was only one way.

He had to make his claim known without a shadow of a doubt to the one trying to undermine it.

Once you were within range, Simon grabbed you and spun you around quick; flinging your back at the wall before he pinned you against it. The full weight of his body pressed you into to surface as if he were trying to fuse you into it. In the same breath, his customary mask was wrenched above his mouth and he wasted not even a second before he took your lips heated and greedily with force.

Johnny had not kissed you, Simon’s sudden intrusion had made quite sure of that, but the bastard’s lips were near enough that that hulking beast of a man had to remove even the specter of their touch by taking them with a dizzying intensity that left you clenching your thighs. Goddamn was he grateful that a sudden knot in his stomach had told him to come find you; if he would have waited and Johnny had gotten to you he would have lost his fucking mind.

“Fine,” Johnny growled angrily at this garish pissing contest that he was being forced to witness as you both had him blocked in; screw this small ass office. “Ye’ve proven yer fucking point. Ah got th’ message. Now, how aboot ye get th’ fuck oot.”

Simon ignored everything around him except for you, his lips too busy performing that intricate dance of back and forth, connecting and reconnecting over and over with your full lips again and again until your mouth burned with the friction. Hands roaming your body, following curves that he knew by touch alone, periodically smashing up against you, a whimper escaped from you and Simon readily drank it down. You closed your eyes as you let him fill you with his possessiveness; this is why you could never ever belong to another.

“Did ye hear me?” Johnny piped up once more, done watching someone else make you come apart at the seams. He wanted you both out, now. “Ah said ah got it; Ah’ll leave her alone. Ye can fuckin go.”

One more hard, lingering kiss was left across your mouth before Simon broke the connection and paused a moment to admire his handiwork. Your lips, bright red and swollen from his assault, your cheeks blossoming with color, with the lust-drunk look plastered on your face, all made up the perfect picture. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Does he know?” Simon posed the question under his breath.

You nodded as you held Simon’s gaze. “Pretty much all of it,” you confirmed that there was no sense in hiding anything anymore as Johnny was aware of your involvement with each other.

“You want me to go, really? For what? So that you can try this shit again ‘nother time?” Simon challenged while keeping his eyes solely on you. “Sure, you’ll cool down for a bit, but let’s be honest mate; take a look at her, you aren’t gonna stay ‘way for long. No, no one’s going anywhere. Ya haven’t learned well enough yet, but that’s gonna be rectified right here and fuckin’ now.”

Giving your lower lip one last quick nip, he released you from his grip and turned to face his Judas. Brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, Johnny’s posture shifted as he stared back, waiting to see what Simon would do. His palms grew sweaty as Simon moved back towards him, pointing a thick finger hotly towards the chair stationed behind Johnny’s desk.

The idea came to him in a split second as rationality had fled when the anger had settled in, a nugget of a thought that was born that first night you and Simon had rekindled your passion for fucking each other’s brains out, and now it returned to the forefront of his thoughts. The way you nearly vibrated with excitement on top of him that night when he brought it up, he knew you would be more than game for it if he suggested it now; of course his perfect little whore would want nothing more than to please him.

“That type of disrespect isn’t gonna fuckin’ fly with me,” Simon hissed. “You knew she was not up for the takin’ and yet you still tried. Now you are gonna pay; you’re gonna sit there and watch as I fuck her right on your desk. You’re gonna listen as she screams my name and see first hand just why she is mine and mine alone.”

This was ridiculous; as if Johnny were just going to stay here and take this shit. “Ye cannae do this,” Johnny said in protest, but it was in vain as Simon was not going to give up; the beast had been provoked.

“Oh yes I can; you brought this on your goddamn self by putting your nose where it didn’t belong. Now, sit - the fuck - down before I make you,” Simon demanded and begrudgingly Johnny followed orders. The skull masked giant was scary intimidating when he wanted to be and with the several inches in height he had on the pretty boy in this enclosed space, it was enough to make him submit.

Johnny subdued, Simon refocused back on you. That rough palm cupped your cheek, making you look up at him and only him. With a heavy touch he drug the thick pad of his thumb over your lower lip as he stared at their fullness with hunger in his gaze.

“How about it, hmm?” he asked. “Why don’t we give Johnny boy here a show he won’t fuckin’ easily forget; it’ll be just like you wanted. Don’t you want him to see how good you take me? He thinks he knows what you need, how about we show him how bloody wrong he really is.”

The idea of performing in front of Johnny was enough to make your head buzz with the sudden intensity of your arousal. You would have allowed the entire base to watch you get plowed by Simon, getting absolutely destroyed by his massive cock, if he asked it of you, but Johnny would do just fine.

“Fuck yes,” you agreed without hesitation. Your lover had been disrespected after all and you knew with the way Simon was fuming that the rage-fueled sex would be oh so good right now.

“Good girl,” Simon praised in the gravely tone that fit his accent to perfection. “That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

Your lips already raw and still parted as you waited for his mouth to come back to yours, eyes hooded with lust, you did not even protest as those large hands moved down the front of your torso and took hold of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head to leave you standing in your bra.

“She’s really giving you a treat, Mactavish. You think everyone gets this view?” Simon spat back behind him as he moved you both right before the desk with you in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. He may be the only one who could touch you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want others to watch as he did it. No, he wanted to parade you around just to show off what others couldn’t have.

Those muscular arms crossed themselves across your torso, pushing your tits together to give them more lift as they sat still inside your bra while his mouth found the crook of your neck where he laid the first of a few quick nips. “Neva seen such a glorious sight, have you Johnny?” he groaned, looking down into the peaks of your breasts that had popped up over the top of your lingerie. “Let’s make it even fuckin’ better.”

With one hand he drew the clasp in the middle of your back together, pinching the sturdy fabric until the tiny hooks unclasped themselves and your bra hung loose at the front of your chest. Coming back around, his hand grabbed at the middle of the bra and wrench it forward and off your shoulder to leave your breasts fully exposed. “Don’t need this, I’ve got something for those juicy tits.”

Those two oversized hands of his cupped the fullness of your breasts within their grasps, cradling them against the palms as they spilled a little through his grip. Taking your pink rosebuds between his thumbs and the side of his pointer fingers he rolled the tiny beads around until they stuck out prominently in between his digits.

“You like that you little slag? Fuck, you have enough tits to go around, luv,” Simon said pointedly against the side of your head as he continued to work at your nipples, waiting until he got the whimper he was looking for before addressing Johnny again in mockery. “Doesn’t that just eat you up inside Johnny boy? That I get all of this to my fuckin’ self?”

A hand slipped down the front of your pants and inside the waistband, traveling across the warm, soft skin of your abdomen until it hit the crotch of your pants so that he could cup that rough palm against your sex. A moan escaped your lips as he scooped up against it and applied a good bit of pressure. “Oh,” he hissed delightedly as a dampness instantly hit his hand, “she’s already drippin’ for me, aren’t you, luv? Mmm, I think she’s enjoin’ bein’ the center of attention. Too bad you can’t get a feel of these silky petals old boy; they’re so warm and wet and soft it should be a goddamn crime. Fuckin’ hell, they’d make Satan himself repent ina fuckin heartbeat.”

You could feel Simon’s girth throbbing against your tailbone as he massaged up against your swollen clit, his other hand still cupped around your breast. He was clearly enjoying this as much as you were, audience be damned. His cock was so hard it was about to rip a hole in the crotch of his pants as he put all his energy into you, feeling it throbbing with each beat of his pulse as his heart worked extra since all the blood had rushed to that girthy appendage.

Head heavily falling back against his shoulder, you let yourself go completely to him while your hips began to move with him as you thrust against his palm to create even more friction. The thrill of having Johnny sitting there, eyes glued to you as if he were unable to pull his sight from your form only made your skin tingle with excitement and heightened your arousal. It was true, you loved being the center of attention and to have Simon so possessive over you was the icing on this sinful cake.

“These have got to go, baby,” Simon’s voice at your ear growled, his hand leaving your cunt for the moment as he tugged at the waistband of your pants. Nimbling he undid the button and pulled down the zipper agonizingly slow and you swore you could hear the second that Johnny had stopped breathing.

Simon’s heavy panting was at your ear as the rest of the entire room stood silently still. If it were up to him in that moment he would have just thrown you over the desk and entered you without another second being spent, but his anger had not left him completely yet and he really wanted his brother in arms to be destroyed.

“Slide them off, easy now; make Johnny squirm with the anticipation of it,” he ordered before he leaned in so that only you would hear the next bit. “Make him pay for tryin’ to take you from me; ruin him.”

Lifting your head back up off Simon’s shoulder you brought your gaze directly to Johnny’s face, holding his sight locked in your own. Your mouth still agape with your short, rapid exhalations you made a show of slipping your fingers into the now opened waistband at the hips. Pushing them just a little, they moved down an inch as you jutted your hip out seductively. Then you paused as Simon latched those lips to your neck.

“Do you want to see me Johnny?” you asked in a breathy whisper. “Cause I really, really want you to see me. All of me.”

Johnny could have easily looked away from the sight before him, no one was forcing him to watch, but try as he might to pull his hungry gaze away he couldn’t. Simon was right, fuck you were gorgeous being absolutely manhandled like that even though it wasn’t him that was doing it. Still, the way your body looked as it flushed pink with the heat of your pleasure made it hard not to enjoy the show. If the tightness now giving the front of his pants a good tenting was any indication, he was going to be in pure agony for weeks on end.

His silent, wide-eyed stare spoke volumes and again you lowered the waistband just a bit more, right at the base of your pubic bone. The little patch of neatly trimmed hair at the top of your pussy had just started to peak through the zipper as you paused for the second time.

Sucking the silky smooth flesh of your neck, Simon hummed into you. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praised how well you were following his direction. “Steady on.”

Heavy thumps from his pulsating heart could be felt in his ears as Johnny watched on with baited breath while you finally slipped the cloth concealing your cunt off your hips and down over the curve of your ass, not stopping until you had pulled them completely off your legs and they lay resting on the ground. Standing back up to your full height you gazed back up at your audience with innocent doe eyes as you bit your lip playfully.

“What do ya think?” Simon posed the question to Soap who was now foaming at the mouth. “Can you think of anything more beautiful than this? And it’s all fuckin’ mine.”

God, the ecstasy of being paraded around like Simon’s favorite toy was out of this world and you couldn’t help but revel in the euphoria of it all. As much as you knew Simon wanted Johnny to pay for what he did, you knew that the only reason he agreed to such a punishment in the first place was because he desperately wanted someone, anyone, to know that he had you under his thumb.

And something about how incredibly, indescribably, ridiculously hot that thought was made you absolutely feral.

You ran your hands around your neck and down around your breasts, giving them a squeeze before continuing down the line of your body. You glided over your hips while giving them a twist before stopping just shy of your cunt as Johnny’s chest heaved heavily up and down.

“Fuck,” he said barely above a whisper as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and you smiled.

Simon moved back against you, his forehead resting against the side of your head as he pawed at his cock within his pants, trying to adjust the painfully tender organ to sit more comfortably to no avail; he was too worked up now and only one thing would fix it. Still, lips resting at your ear, Simon gave another command. “Touch yourself.”

That was an order you would not hesitate to follow.

Extending your middle and ring fingers, you slipped your hand fully down between your thighs and split yourself open slowly; fuck, you were just as tender as he was, your throbbing clit could barely take anymore without some form of release. Easing your fingers inside, you found that precious bean and began to stroke concise circles over the top of it.

“Mmmm…” you moaned into your closed mouth as a shiver ran through you.

Pressed up against you, Simon could feel the shake in your arm as you worked yourself, the muscle of your bicep vibrated on his torso and rubbed against his abdominals. He focused everything on the little mewls and groans you let flow out of you like music as you drew out your own ecstasy stroke by even stroke. If your loyalty to him was ever in question, it was resolved now as you followed his orders completely without hesitation.

You were the farthest thing from God as something could get, but the damnation was more than worth it just to covet you all to himself. If Simon ever felt the need to worship, it was your body that would be his religion now.

His hand cupped your cheek to hold your head against him. “What’re you thinkin’ about?” Simon groaned, eyes still closed. “Are you thinkin’ of me as your fingers do all the fuckin’ work?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Say it, out loud.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m thinking of that fat fucking cock of yours plunging deep inside me. Goddammit Simon, please, I need you baby.”

Yes, oh fucking God yes. “Look at Johnny, say it again.”

Eyes heavy lidded found the Sargent’s face. With voice clear, you spoke your truth, unashamed. “God I need to feel Simon’s cock stretching me out, filling me full, making me vibrate. Christ, I need him to fuck me stupid.”

A pathetic whimper sounded behind closed lips as your stroke hit a bit of extra sensitivity. The vision of him finally bending you over the desk to enter you was all you could imagine now and it made you writhe with anticipation.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon grunted, his phallus bruising your leg as he ground the hard tip into your thigh. “I’m gonna fucking fill you so full to the goddamn brim with me, I’ll have your legs shakin’. You want that, to be stuffed full? Maybe I’ll really stuff you, give you everything.”

His brain was misfiring, his heartbeat pounding, his pupils dilating as each agonizing second passed until he could not hold back a thought that came forward towards the surface of his mind. The ultimate show of possession, the peak of ownership, the true slap in the face of the one watching you both right now. And he let out that thought that was snaking its way through him like electricity.

“How about we make Johnny watch as I fuckin’ breed you?” he growled, low and primal, putting his whole chest into it.

Simon almost had to grab you to stop you from falling as your knees nearly buckled out from under you at his salacious statement. That came out of nowhere to take you completely by surprise, but Jesus Christ what a visual that you were instantly obsessed with now. Was he trying to stop your heart because if he was going to say shit like that he better have a defibrillator on standby.

“Yes, fucking yes,” you whined as you fingers began to move faster and faster against your clit. “Do it baby, fucking breed me. Fill me nice and deep. Make this pussy yours.”

It was so wet between your legs the sound of your fingers stroke through your slick was now audible and Johnny was trying his hardest not to pass out. What he wouldn’t have given to have the balls to get up, throw Simon out, and have his fucking fill of you; that was a dream, but shit was he burning to slide his cock into that slopping mess gathering between your thighs.

“Please, Simon,” you cried out, “take me now. Please, I can’t fucking stand it anymore. I need to feel you.”

Simon’s member was so tender with a deep ache that it was almost painful. Enough was enough, screw Johnny and this bullshit display, this wasn’t waiting another second; if he wasn’t inside of you in the next beat it felt like he would burn to death.

A strong hand gripped your wrist and ripped your hand from out between your thighs before it moved to your hip and was joined by the other on the opposite one. You were being shoved forward, pushed from behind as Simon blocked your hips up against the edge of the desk. You were already bending over it when his forearm pressed into your shoulder blades to guide you down before his fingers were running the length of your spine to your ass.

The other hand quickly pulled down the zipper on the front of his pants and finally he was able to release himself, his pants hanging loosely about his lower hips. His cock was so swollen and feverish to the touch, the moment it hit the cooler air outside his clothing he winced. The two prominent veins along the length throbbed and pulsed with his raging heartbeat and the engorged tip shimmered with a bit of precum that had leaked out.

No time was wasted as he used his booted foot to spread your legs open wider, shifting his hips in against your ass as he slid the tip of his phallus between your damp petals. Slipping it back and forth as few times, he coated himself in your juices; he was about to go all in and he would take as much lubrication as he could so that nothing would be snagging.

Once satisfied he again grabbed your hips and aligned himself, thrusting hard towards your entrance, inserting himself fully into you. You took him all in perfectly, your body swallowing every last delectable inch as if it was designed to hold all of that girth.

“Oh god baby, you’re just suckin’ me right in, you greedy bitch,” he hissed, those fingertips bruising your skin as he held on for dear life. “Christ, take it all, slut.”

He had to pause to collect himself, otherwise this would be over before it had begun. It should be a goddamn felony for you to feel this good, as if it were that first time all over again. You had to have a bit of witch in you to keep him under your spell like this.

Breathing through the waves of ecstasy threatening to undo him, he regained his composure and began pounding into you with strong, robust thrusts, pulling almost completely out of you before slamming back into your core down to the base of his cock. Your body rocked against his intense thrusts, breasts bouncing across the desk as your face was pressed even further into the surface; you could only moan as the euphoria coursing through you at his movements was intoxicating.

A strong grip around your neck from behind picked up your head and pointed it forward right back at Johnny’s face from off the tabletop. Mouth open and jaw slack as you breathed through each delicious thrust from Simon’s cock, you locked eyes with the mohawked Sargent and held his gaze.

“There we go, you keep those eyes on ol’ Johnny boy there, pretty girl” Simon growled. “I want him to see the look in them as you take every last goddamn inch of me.”

The warmth radiating from his body made your skin tingle as your back began to glisten with perspiration; his fingertips left trails of fire everywhere he touched and you were more than willing to burn for him. He kept the pace even, making each thrust count as he hit that tiny bundle of nerve endings inside of you.

You could feel your pulse match his in perfect unison, your heartbeats determining the pace he pounded that cunt of yours. The harder his hips pumped into you, the more the sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the silence of the room. What beautiful fucking music your screwing made. The force shook through your trembling body, but the precision was spot on in hitting that perfect spot time and time again until you were so inebriated on the exhilaration of the over stimulation.

Gagging on his own moan, Simon looked down to watch himself thrust in and out of you. Too much, it was all too damn much; you took him so goddamn well, the way your juicy cunt pulled his cock in. No one had ever made him this pussy-drunk, not in recent memory and as you bucked against his pelvis, that intoxication only grew.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you buck any harder and I’m going to blow my load right fuckin’ now,” he grunted between thrusts. “You want that? For me to fill that pussy full? Why don’t you tell Johnny what you want.”

You licked your parched lips as you struggled to regain your ability to speak. “I need him to fill me Johnny,” you said, your eyes pleading with the man directly in your vision staring, unblinking. Your eyes begin to water, its too good, its too much. He’s hitting deep, as deep as the angle can get while his testicles bounce of your pussy to add that extra bit of stimulation. On your tiptoes, you are backing it up until your ass is flush with him, mouth hanging open as you pant like a bitch in heat, saliva threatening to drip from your lips. “Please, I can’t take much more.”

Johnny’s hand began pawing at himself unconsciously through his pants, trying to calm the storm. It feels like you are asking him a question, but his brain was so hazy he couldn’t form solid thoughts. That desperate look in your eye, the begging swimming in their depths, he could feel the breadth of your desire for the man behind you.

“Please…”

Simon turned his attention to Johnny for the first time since before he entered you and smirked. “So needy isn’t she?” he asked. “Always making me work for it. She’s almost fuckin’ there, though, but this part is just for me.”

Quickly he pulled his cock out of you amidst your whimpers at suddenly feeling empty and spun you around, picking you up so that your ass made contact with the surface of the desk where you sat. There was no need to worry, he was back in between those legs in the blink of an eye and as you wrapped your thighs around his hips, he thrust back inside that tight, sopping wet cave.

His body shuddered harshly from the feeling of your silky walls being wrapped around him again. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he grunted, his eyes meeting yours. You were a mess, a beautiful disaster, and his breath hitched as he admired your flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, swollen, cracked lips; all his doing.

Those primal instincts within his marrow took over and all he knew, all he cared about was the feeling of your walls constricting around him and how that pleasure takes all his cares away. His lips crashed upon yours furiously, completely muting your whines as his movements become more ferocious.

“You are mine,” Simon said repeatedly in hushed groans against your lips as if trying to pour the sentiment down your throat. “Mine.”

His, you thought. Only his.

Harder and harder his abdominal muscles clenched and retracted as he put everything into the force of his thrusts. Your tits bounced up and down in front of his face, jiggling with each hit as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to hang on as he rocked your body.

“Say it, I want to hear it,” he demanded suddenly; as much as he was struggling to hold it off, it wasn’t working, and he was about to come.

“I’m yours, Simon,” you mewled, your grip on his spine tightening.

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. “Again.”

You swallowed the saliva gathering in the front of your mouth to coat your parched throat. “I’m yours, Simon, only yours,” you said louder this time.

“Again.”

“Simon, this pussy is yours, only yours, forever yours. …Fuck.”

With that last syllable he was gone; his cock pulsed violently inside you, his body writhing harshly while he drained himself dry, coating your walls with his fluids as he continued to pump inside of you. There was no way he was going to give up until you had come too. A few more strong thrusts in and out with steady rhythm and that was all it took, you were crying out as well, throwing your head back as you shook with the intensity of it all. That grip on your hips turned painful as Simon dug his fingertips into your flesh to keep you both steady while you rode out your orgasms until there was nothing left to give and once he finally released you, you toppled backward onto the desk exhausted.

Pulling out of you nice and slow, everything was far to tender to move quick anymore, he gazed down at his masterpiece. Your entrance dripped droplets of his seed as it spilled out of you and something about it made him shiver with excitement. You looked absolutely divine stuffed with his cum.

As he looked back up towards your face, he was met with your sleepy, ecstasy-filled smile and his heart leapt in his chest. Goddamn, this was a fucking dream. He leaned over your exhausted body and pulled your head up, mashing his face into yours as he captured your lips and held them locked until he could feel your heartbeat slow to a more respectable rhythm.

Releasing you and resting his forehead on yours, he holstered his cock back inside his pants. “Get dressed and head back to my quarters, I’ll be there in a bit. I got something to finish up here first.”

You nodded into his head and he helped you to get up off the desk and grab your clothing, holding your tired, shaking body steady while you put everything back on. “You did so good for me, luv,” he whispered his praise before walking you to the door to unlock it and let you out, re-locking it behind you.

Johnny was already on his feet by the time Simon turned around. Crossing the room in just a few large steps, he was on him. Simon’s large hand wrapped itself around his throat as his face inched in closer in intimidating fashion.

“You ever try to touch ‘er again, anything more than just a friendly little handshake, and I will make it my mission to ruin your fuckin’ life. Understand me, Sargent?”

A nod of his head. “Yes,” Johnny said quietly as he struggled against his grip.

That wasn’t good enough. “I didn’t fuckin’ hear you,” Simon snapped.

“Yes, sir,” he said more firm this time.

“And if words get back to me that you went to Price about this, well, let’s just say that certain actions have consequences. Is that also fuckin’ clear?” Those rich chocolate eye bore down into Johnny’s soul with the seriousness of his words; this would be the one and only warning he got.

The sour look on Johnny’s face let him know he had gotten the message. “Crytsal, sir,” he confirmed.

“Good,” Simon snapped, releasing the grasp on his neck just as quickly as he had taken it.

Moving back, he straightened himself up to make sure nothing would look out of place to anyone he would pass on the way back to his room before speaking again. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sargent. I know I will.”

And with that Johnny was left alone as Simon threw open the door and stalked back out of his office as if nothing of note had taken place here. There was no telling right then and there what would happen next, as Soap's head was still reeling, but one thing was for certain: things were about to get interesting.

Tag list: @igotmajordaddyissues , @abbiesxox

[melehound]

The first time 141 + König say “I love you” FEM READER!

Kyle “gaz” garrick

It’s huge for him when he says it he’s so worried it’s not the right time so he tries to play it off casually like before you both lay down to sleep and he has his back to you in bed he says “Goodnight love, I love you”

When you say it back he lets out a deep relieved sigh and rolls over to cuddle you

Prefers calls over texting so he’ll just talk to you while your away from him when he has time every time he calls you without fail he says I love you and when you don’t say it back he’s like “🤨”

John “soap” mactavish

He comes home absolutely plastered one night and he’s talking about how much he loves his gf (you) and how he plans to marry you and give you a family

He recorded all of this rejecting you trying to have proof that he wasn’t cheating on you (with you 💀)

He saw it in the morning and he never recovered but he started saying ily more but it reminds him of the video and he worries you’ll bring it up and make fun of him

John price

Before he goes to work on a lazy Monday morning “alright love I’ll be back later, love you”

And he doesn’t realize what he said before he walked out the door and he just rolled with it and just started saying it everyday before he left for work

He doesn’t really like texting but he’ll do it for you he just leaves everybody else on delivered and read

Your the person everybody sees him texting in the most random situations “cap? What are you doing we’ve been captured who are you texting!?” “I’m texting (y/n) she should be sleeping near this time 😊”

Simon “ghost” Riley

It’s over text before you go to bed “gn ily”

It wasnt on purpose he just typed it and went to bed and he woke up with your text saying “omg ily too gn 💗” and he’s like sp confused he honestly didn’t do it on purpose he was so tired

After that he says it over text and irl every time he leaves the house or when he goes to bed almost every night he’s apart from you

Also random tangent I feel like his first impression of true love was an ancient version of high school musical on a shitty VCR tape Troy bolten and Gabriella Montez were what true love was to him because he knew what his parents had at young age wasn’t healthy because he’s seen other peoples happy family’s on television and at school so he would have that movie on repeat (it was the only VCR tape he had)

König

He blurted it out after he busted early during sex

He’s so embarrassed that it was the first time he said it but now he just can’t stop telling you

He says it so much it’s not even funny he puts it at the end of most of his texts “going to the store, love you ❤️” “left for work, love you ❤️” “taking a shower, love you ❤️” “goodnight i love you ❤️”

He keeps you on call when he goes to public spaces so he doesn’t look approachable especially when he goes to the store

((✿: running dry on requests need more pls🌚 just hit 100 followers 😭 thank you sm omg))

[eiraeths]

For as long as Gaz can remember, he’s associated people with certain songs. It’s no surprise to anyone who’s known him long enough. Music has been a part of his life since day one; a low-volumed CD-radio combo on the kitchen counter always playing in the background and singing along to whatever was playing in the car.

One of his favorite activities growing up was standing behind the school with a group of friends crowded around now outdated technology, showing each other all the favorite songs and whatever came to mind. Even now, with years gone by since he’s last spoken to them, all he has to do is hear their song and he’s stuck reminiscing for the rest of the day. Music is how to make a moment last forever.

He’s not sure what kick-started this little game of mental association of his, but it’s never left him and he never wants it to. Until now, at least.

From the first day he met Soap, he knew Soap would leave a mark on his soul for eternity. He didn’t care for Soap as a person at first either, though his fellow sergeant was too hot-headed; too brash and impulsive. How someone could carve out a space for themself with words alone was beyond Gaz. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to.

But that’s the thing: Soap was so damn good at carving out a space for himself. It wasn’t long before Gaz knew he couldn’t call Soap anything else but a friend. Their time enlisted together marches on and one day a simple friend turns into an occasional-flirt-with and think-what-could-be friend.

Gaz tried to establish a line. He tried to push his pestering emotions down and keep the status quo. Soap had become one of the most important persons in his life and Gaz couldn’t fuck that up. Their flirting—whatever it could be called—was simply another little game, just like Gaz’s music association.

And here comes endearing, impulsive John Soap MacTavish, with his stupidly charming words and larger-than-life personality who crashes through all of Gaz’s trepidations like it’s just another Monday. John Soap MacTavish,who could carve his way into any clique and made sure he fit seamlessly into every crevice—as if he was passively testing fate. Who carved his way into Gaz’s life like he’s been there all along.

Gaz doesn’t remember where that self-imposed line was anymore.

Smooth as ever, Soap slots into Gaz’s daily routine without a single hitch in the process. In no time, so many of Gaz’s favorite songs became reminders of Soap’s place in his life. He shares this with Soap too, of course. This unconditional, amorous thing of theirs means everything is on the table. Every part of them under stage lights for criticism.

Soap’s enamored with all the songs from the start. He doesn’t think it’s strange, even shares his own. After that, the two of them could often be found sitting together sharing a pair of earbuds, whether it be somewhere on base or post-op cooldown.

The love of his life, John Soap MacTavish without a single bone of shame in his body who’d drag Gaz up to dance and single off key and so severely out of tune and not give a damn. Who’d do anything just to see Gaz crack a smile or shake his head in amusement.

Soap was damn good at that. It makes sense in hindsight. Someone who’s so good with people and so eager to serve needs something to do with that seemingly boundless energy.

Gaz stares at the single box filled to the brim with all of Soap’s possessions. All of that boundless, never-ending energy,and for what? Just to end up as another KIA in a soon to be forgotten document.

It has to be some kind of cruel joke for everything that larger-than-life John Soap MacTavish was to be able to fit in a standard brown packing box. It doesn’t make sense. None of Soap’s beloved mathematical equations could even begin to explain it. It shouldn’t be possible.

It’s not fucking fair.

How could this one box be all that’s left of him?

Without thinking, Gaz picks up his phone and presses play on their playlist.

Let us die young or let us live forever

We don’t have the power, but we never say never

Sitting in a sandpit, life’s a short trip

The music’s for the sad man

Life’s cruelest game was giving unconditional a price tag. Someone leaves first and someone has to think about how they had the rest of their lives to discover together. The pieces of grief won’t pick themself up.

Someone has to stay behind and stare at the perfectly carved hole left in the other’s departure.

Forever young, I want to be forever young

Do you really want to live forever?