#soap john mactavish x reader

[mockerycrow]

UNDERCOVER VII (Soap x GN!Reader)

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summary: taking a break from telling your experiences, Soap and you spend the day together. He takes you from your room as to allow you to see more. Unfortunately for the both of you, Soap didn't bother to inform anyone of this decision. 3.8k words.

a/n: HELLO!!! YES!!! you are not imagining things! chapter seven is FINALLY out. i went on two separate impromptu hiatuses and i am going on another one at the end of this month until around november, so i wanted to get this out for y’all. i appreciate all of y’all’s patience. i love you guys. during this flashback/ptsd attack, bolted italics are present when characters are speaking russian. [THIS DOES NOT FOLLOW REBOOT MW CANON.]

[WARNINGS; light fluff(!!!), ptsd, death/suicide ideation, angst, hospital setting, death and gore, reader is not a good person morally, military inaccuracies, overall TRIGGER WARNING.]

“Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?” ― Clarice Lispector.

Lucky for me, my internal request about being left alone was granted. I skipped a meal, despite the worried glare of the main nurse taking care of me. I’m sure they wanted to put the feeding tube back into my throat—they surely looked like it. Or was that the look of genuine worry? Did I forget what it looked like? When I woke up this morning, they certainly made sure I got some food in me. I appreciate the nurses and the doctors and their efforts in taking care of me. I recognize I cannot be an easy patient by any means; whether that means the paperwork, the security… My behavior? I applaud them.

I wish I could get them a gift or something. Maybe once I’m out of their care. Is that weird?

I’ve always woken up pretty early—courtesy of Makarov’s strange routines—so when I woke up and didn’t see Soap by my side, I wasn’t too surprised. He probably has drills and routines of his own. Woke up, ate breakfast which looked absolutely immaculate, however I’m in a very weird.. flux right now. I’m not sure how to exactly describe it, but the food looked great but felt like flavorless blobs. Perhaps my tastebuds are deceiving me, or what they gave me was just pure shit. Hm.

Before he left last night, Soap assured me today was a rest day. I couldn’t help myself, but I winced at his statement. It probably wasn’t for my benefit, but for theirs. Any information I have can be a lot of paperwork, a lot of.. Meetings, I guess. I don’t know. I’m bitter, but I’m grateful for the break. 

By the time 0900 rolled around, Soap strolled into my room. Fucker had the brightest smile on his face, his lip curling just enough to expose his gum around his right upper canine. “Back on babysitting duty?” I ask, my tone flatter than usual. Soap chuckles, his boots clicking against the waxed tile as he approaches my bedside. My eyes scan his attire; dark grey t-shirt, tucked into a dark grey pair of cargo pants and regular boots. Belt, holster with the gun. Huh, surprising. My eyes glance back up at his face as Soap spoke.

“Don’ be like that, aye? Ye don’t hafta think of it like that.” Soap insists, his hand grabbing my shoulder, gently might I add. I huff—his touch burns until he removes his hand. “Look, I’m sure ye don’t want t’be held in here all day. I have an idea.” He proposes with a twinkle in his eyes. I raise an eyebrow, unable to disguise how intrigued I actually am. “Oh?” I ask, my voice low like earlier. There’s a funny feeling in my stomach. Soap throws his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the stationary wheelchair that’s remained in the corner since last night. “Why don’t we take a walk?” 

My lip curls for a moment, my eyes darting between him and the wheelchair. “You mean ‘wheel around’?” I raise an eyebrow, poking fun at him. Soap lets out a tsk and shakes his head. “Haud yer wheesht.” Soap utters before turning around, crouching down to unlock the wheels of the wheelchair. “Jokes on you, I dunno what that means.” I reply snarkily, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. “It means ‘shut up’.” He replies as if he’s gracing me with great information.

I roll my eyes, cautiously pushing the blankets down off of my legs. I wince for a moment and Soap’s legs as well as the wheelchair come into view as I get myself settled. “I’ll wheel ya, you just need t’hold the.. The fuckin’ IV thing.” Soap mutters, gesturing to the IV pole. “Soap.” I say, my tone flat.

He looks back at me with his big blue eyes—all innocent like. Fucker. “It’s a pole to hold IV bags on. So, what is it called?” I ask him like he’s a child, my tone high pitched and overly nice. Soap’s face tints pink and taps the wheelchair with his foot, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “You have an attitude, might I say.” Soap lets out a nervous laugh; he’s embarrassed and nothing is making me happier than this moment right now. I grunt as I allow Soap to help me into the wheelchair. My legs happen to be fine, but my stomach and ribs are still quite tender and sore.

“It’s called an IV pole, Soap.”

“Jesus Christ, I know.”

I hate to admit it, but Soap is a pretty good babysitter. I don’t think many people would willingly take me out of my room and help me get some fresh air, at least not like this. We’ve gone a couple of laps around the ward I’m allowed to roam and in a way, I’m appreciative of him allowing me to grasp more of the area I’m in. I wonder if he’s ever been in my position, or has known someone to be in a similar position? Bedbound, anxious? …Paranoid?

I wonder.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts as I hear a light beep from my right. I turn my head to where my IV pole, the little electronic box attached to it is lit up. “Hm?” Soap hums, his eyes trailing to where I’m looking. He grabs the pole and spins it towards himself, eyes scanning over the screen. Soap’s lips part for a second in understanding, but my eyes stay on the scar hidden underneath his mess of stubble. “Jus’ administerin’ more painkillers. It’s on a timer.”

I force myself to look away with a nod. I nearly slip back into my thoughts when I feel Soap begin to pull the wheelchair backwards. My eyes widen and I quickly grab the IV pole to drag along. I twist my head to face him the best I can despite the screw in my jaw. “Where are we going? My room’s just down the hall.” I question, turning my head, watching the door get smaller in size. Soap hums, turning the wheelchair around to push to where he was pulling it. He doesn’t answer me.

My fingers twitch around the IV pole and I quickly stop myself. Stop. Soap would’ve hurt me already if he wanted to. He has a pistol in the holster against his hip right on his belt. If he were to wish to hurt me, he would’ve already spilled my brains. Shut the fuck up.

Like you spilled hers?

What?

I blink, a beat passes, and we’re in a different hallway. One I haven’t seen before. “Soap..?” I ask louder, my heart fluttering in my chest. I’m getting nervous. Soap bends down to my ear; I can feel the wheelchair adjust under the added weight on the handles. “S’alright, just goin’ to take a longer walk. New areas, fresher air.” Soap murmurs, his breath brushing against my ear. I let out a harsh breath as he stood up straight, and.. And that fucker is humming. “Is this even allowed?” I ask, my voice quiet as my eyes dart around.

Soap lets out a laugh, slowing down a bit with his walking. “Does it matter? I’ve done much worse, this is nothin’.” 

“I don’t want to get in trouble,” I protest, but my protests are clearly weak because the bastard continues to push me down the hall. Soap lets out an amused chuckle, one of his hands coming down on my shoulder, squeezing it through my hospital gown. I flinch a bit as I didn’t expect him to touch me. “Ye’ll be fine. I’ll take the fall if it comes down to it.” His touch was gentle.

I go to argue with him again because it’s likely that it wouldn't work and wouldn’t matter, but I decide against it. Only then does his hand return to the other handle of the wheelchair. 

That’s one thing I’ve noticed about men like Soap. They’re much more touchy than you would think they would be. Most folks think that military men would have an aversion to touch, they think that these men are the epitome of their versions of masculinity. Men like Soap, though? They have no problems giving each other a hug, have no quarrels giving each other a forehead bump with each other. Hell, when you’re stuck in the middle of a blizzard, you don’t get choices; you huddle and cuddle, or you fucking die.

Soap’s touch, though.. His hand was heavy, big. Radiating heat like a portable heater through my hospital gown. It makes me wonder if his teammates are the same? They’re all in one task force, they must have seen some shit together, been through shit together. Hm. 

Soap could’ve survived the harsh winters I had been through due to him. 

Maybe. Maybe not.

I shouldn’t keep thinking of him right now, not when I don’t have to, but he won’t fucking leave my brain. I can almost hear his voice sometimes and it’s absolutely nauseating. I can’t say that I was the closest to him, but I was pretty damn up there in his ranks. I was always a go-to for a multitude of things. Things I no longer wish to fucking remember. Maybe he should’ve ended me right now. Maybe I should’ve finished the job when I got the chance.

His men were kind of touchy which was never surprising to me. Being under harsh conditions together, relying on each other to keep the other safe? It creates a bond like no other. They tended to be touchy with me in due time, too. I’m not sure how I was able to handle it for so long. Every brush of their hands on my shoulders, every shoulder and elbow bump, it felt like hot irons painfully maiming my skin, branding me for everything I’ve done.

He was touchy at times, too. It made me wanna vomit. 

..Well, now it does. At the moment, though, not really. Which just.. Makes everything worse. One part of me wishes I refused the assignment. I truly fucking feel like I should’ve. Now he’s everywhere in my life, invading the parts he was never supposed to be in. It’s not like I exactly expected this assignment to go incredibly smoothly, no. That’s quite frankly really fucking stupid to do, but I at least expected this to be smoother than it has been. Perhaps that’s been my flaw this entire time, I’m not sure. 

With him, you can never know. That’s one thing that I had to learn pretty damn quick. If you thought you knew what his plans were, you better backtrack five steps and rethink it all because you are definitely not on the right track. I guess that’s one thing I can give him; he’s always been intelligent, so much so to an annoying degree. With every report I gave, it felt like everything I was finding out was contradictory to my previous report. Even now, is the information I’m giving the 141 accurate? 

I’m not even sure anymore, not after the fact that he left me alive in that warehouse. I seriously doubt he left me alive for a reason. He’s the one who’s always put two in the head to make sure the person was dead. That’s perhaps the singular good thing he ever taught me.

I feel those leathers hands on my shoulders in my dreams.

There’s a touch on my shoulder and I jolt out of my thoughts, jerking my shoulder away, causing a lightning bolt of pain to pulse through my arm. I hiss, my hand grabbing my shoulder. “Shit,” Soap’s voice filters through my ears, and it does little to calm my pounding heart. When did it start pumping this hard..? “Are ye alrigh’? Didnae mean to startle you.” 

Fucking hell.

My hand is on my chest, feeling the desperate pound underneath. I realize I haven’t answered him and I give him a little nod. “Just startled me, is all.” I croak out. It takes me a second to look around, to get my bearings. “Was worried for a sec, was talkin’ an’ ya didn’t respond. Couldn’t tell if you were spaced out or ignorin’ me.” Soap jests. We’re still in a hallway, but possibly a different wing?--- The hallway of my ward had a long red strip in the middle of the wall, following the hallway. The stripe on this wall is yellow. I need to focus and pay attention, Jesus Christ. 

“Was thinking,” I utter. “Sorry.”

“About?” Soap begins to push the wheelchair again; my fingers twitch around the IV pole. How am I supposed to explain that? Do I lie? Do I tell the truth? 

How am I supposed to tell him I was thinking about him?

“Just..” I begin, my lip twitching as I rack my brain for an excuse. “I had a—”

“OI!”

I flinch at the booming voice from down the hall, jolting so hard in my wheelchair it scoots forward a bit. My free hand instinctively forms into a fist as suddenly, it was an empty hall and now I’m back in a fucking warehouse with a pistol in my hands. The, the fucking smell of the warehouse burns my nose, the concrete floor caked in blood and somebody’s organs—looks like a kidney, honestly. I don’t fucking know, what the fuck is happening? My hand is shaking; my finger is still on the trigger. My hand is vibrating. I pulled it, didn’t I? I glance forwards where the puddle is and there’s two bodies. I don’t.. I don’t remember their names, but fucking hell. 

“Don’t fret over them. They lived and died like the dogs they were.”

‘They were fucking human beings! They had lives, fucking friends and family, aspirations! Don’t tell me who and what to not fret over, you fucking freak!’ I try to scream at him—he’s behind me. My mouth opens and it’s moving, but nothing is leaving. I cough and choke, dropping the pistol, which rattles against the ground with a clank. My throat is tight and I reach for it, my eyebrows furrowed. I pull my fingers back and they’re slick and hot with my blood.

Fuck. FUCK. 

I blink; he stands in front of me, holding the pistol. His fucking.. Leather gloves, holding the grip, his finger hovering over the trigger. Am I dreaming? 

Please fucking tell me I’m dreaming.

The gun is aimed at my head and my hands naturally raise upwards—fuck, I can’t stop shaking! Cold sweat drips down my temple—he aims at my stomach and the pistol fires, so loud that my ears ring. I flinch, and I feel horrible bile bubble up in my throat as fierce, hot pain lights up my stomach. I try to talk but that vomit decides to bubble and hurl out of my mouth. I bend over, my eyes filling with hot tears.

It hurts—it hurts so fucking bad and none of this makes sense. 

It fucking burns.

I blink—and I gasp, and suddenly I’m back in the hospital. My vision is blurring, I’m laying down on something—it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts—

“I know it does, I know.” A deep voice says. Soap? 

..M–

No, it’s Soap. Soap.

It isn’t him.

There’s hands on my wrists, holding them down at my sides as someone wraps something around my head, something bumping against my nostrils. I feel vomit bubble out of my mouth and—then it’s dark.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been out, but my head fucking hurts. And so does my stomach.. And my back… and my jaw. Along with everything else.

I feel myself laying on a plush surface; there’s some soft beeping present, too. My throat aches and I find it hard to open my eyes. It takes a few minutes, definitely. Once I’m able to open my eyes, I squint to adjust my eyes to the room. The familiar room comes into focus with the red stripe in the room; it’s dark, it’s night-time. My hand comes up to my face, feeling an oxygen tube on my nose. I groan softly and I try to move my other hand, but something is restricting it..?

Don’t tell me.

I lift my head and I look down. My heart drops, seeing one of my wrists shackled back to the railing of the hospital bed via handcuffs. I swallow some spit that accumulated in my mouth before letting my head drop back down onto the pillow. It did nothing to soothe the ache in my throat. “Fuck.” I croak out. Of course—I lose privileges. For something that wasn’t my fault.

I’m alone.

Moments like these make me wish I could retreat into my mind and hide like I did when I was in that warehouse, or when I had committed violent crimes for him. I could blink one moment and I would be in a different room. There’s probably a lot that I don’t remember—I’m not sure how my recounts will be useful. Maybe it’s because when it comes to Makarov, it’s not like he’ll be subjected to an international court.

If they get their hands on the monster, they’ll kill him. Torture him, maybe. I don’t know. Nobody follows rules all of the time, that’s for sure.

I hear the hospital door swing open and my eyes immediately flicker over to it—I see Soap walk in with two plates of food. His eyes glance over to me and he lights up for a moment before he looks a bit somber. “Hey, you’re awake.” Soap utters; his voice is a special type of soft. Guilt, probably. “Yeah.” I respond quietly, my handcuffed hand twitching a bit. He walks over and grabs the rolling over-bed tray, carefully rolling it over my lower body. My eyes track his movements as he does. Soap sets the plate down before clicking a button on my bed, slowly sitting up the head of it.

I glance down at the food. I’m definitely hungry, but I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to hold down. I wince, the pain jaw aching from the angle change. “Sorry.” Soap murmurs, his own plate of food in one hand, the other reaching back to drag a chair closer to my bed. I just hum, closing my eyes for a moment in an attempt to calm the throbbing in my jaw. My eyes open after a moment and I look at the food once more. Definitely more appetizing now, and I notice Soap only got light foods, stuff you can hold down with an upset stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Soap utters, leaning closer, picking at his food. I look at him, seeing how his brow is furrowed and he’s kind of pouting. My lip twitches from the display. He looks up from his plate to me, lifting his plastic fork to dig it into the fat of his lower frowning lip. “You were right, y’know? Handcuffed ‘cause of me.” He mumbles, letting out a sigh. He seems genuinely apologetic, and a bit guilty for what happened earlier. 

“Partially my fault,” I respond, trying to minimize the movement of my jaw. “Had a little freak out. I don’t do so well with yelling, it seems.”

“So you say.” Soap immediately quips before he sinks down a little. “Too much?”

“Just a bit.”

He nods in response, eating a little piece of overly cooked steak. “Got it.” Soap chews it and swallows it, eyeing me. “Not eatin’, hm? Pain?”

I let out a tense sigh and I mutter a quick, “yeah”. Without missing a beat, Soap leans over and clicks the nurse button in order for a nurse to come to my room. “Bit weird, I thought it was on a dispensary timer.” He responds, but gives a shrug. His eyes scan my face, which causes me to look away for a moment because his eye contact is, I don’t know. It’s bothering me right now. “Do ye want t’talk about what happened?” Soap questions. I can hear food in his mouth.

Do I want to talk about what happened? Would it be for the record?

“I don’t know.” I respond honestly. “I barely remember it.” That isn’t exactly a lie. “It makes me feel like I’m losing it if I do.”

I glance at Soap and he takes a moment to process my words, chewing whatever's stuffed into his mouth from his plate. “Everybody has their demons, [name],” Soap murmurs, his voice deep and gritty. His words hold a heavy weight to them, and I feel a metaphorical weight on my chest for a second. “There’s no shame.”

I let out a huff. “I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last, huh?” I mumble. “Aye.” Soap responds. He goes to speak once more, but a nurse, the one from the beginning, walks in with a concerned face. “What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice tight. I swallow hard. “My, uh, jaw.. Everything else, it all hurts.” I try to explain, trying to keep my voice steady but there’s an uncomfortable croak to it.

I watch the nurse walk over to the IV pole and fiddle with the lines. I then close my eyes and lay my head back against the pillow properly, the nausea kind of getting to me. I have this uncomfortable, empty feeling in my belly and it’s almost anxiety inducing. Maybe it’s from anxiety in general. I don't know. 

How do you recover from something like this? Do I deserve to recover from something like this? After everything that I’ve done in the name for the “greater good”, something both my handler and Makarov told me.. Two sides to the same coin. Was all of the bloodshed and death worth it? 

Was any of it worth it?

Maybe this is something I’ll be thinking about until I die. Hell, I really did think I would die before coming back here. I thought maybe one day I would slip up on a random loyalty test Makarov would administer and he would be done with me right then and there. I wonder if dying then would’ve been better? Oh, I slipped up and failed my mission, I wouldn’t have to be here to suffer the consequences.

Maybe that’s why I am still here. To suffer any consequence of what I’ve contributed to, and done. I wonder if they will still see use, or value in me once they get the information they need from me. Will they discard me like a toy so easily just as Makarov had? Breaking someone is easy, but it depends on how good someone is able to put the pieces back together. I’m certainly broken, even though I don’t want to think about it.

But will they be able to put the pieces back together?

..Will I?

The pain in my jaw eases as well as my ribs and stomach. I think I can eat now.

🏷️; @hardnutpost @glitterypirateduck @elowynnlane @boycigs @wolfyland07 @escapefromrealitysm @tapioca-marzipan @cj-theyoungling @fullmoon-94 @gothgirl6-6-6 @thriving-n-jiving @paniniii @calloumii @the-spartan-himself @bi-witch-bxtch @dammn-dean @jinxxangel13 @meimhem @hannathetrololol-blog @kool-aidd @aliendous @roarndoodles @supernaturalstilinski @blob-11 @cumbermovels @jisungfanpage @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @p3achfairy @darling006 @nyushkawritesstuff @pepsicolacoochie

this is my undercover series taglist. if you wish to be tagged, let me know. if you are wrongfully tagged or no longer want to be, let me know! absolutely no hard feelings.

[ghouljams]

Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.

Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.

Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.

Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.

At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...

[majinbangus]

You're sprawled on the couch when he comes in the room, eyes zeroing in on you instantly. He doesn't give you the chance to greet him, stalking up to you as if you're his prey. Which, in this moment, you probably are.

It's not hard to tell he's still in that soldier headspace he gets stuck in sometimes. He looks tired. Stressed.

You're about to get up and ask him what he wants, what he needs, once he's looming over you, but the words die out when his hands shoot out and start squeezing your breasts.

You don't stop him, but you do laugh a little, incredulous. "What are you doing?"

"Fluffin' your tits." He's gruff, both in tone and groping. "What's it look like?"

"That's not how- nevermind." You chuckle and fondly roll your eyes. "Why?"

"Cuz they're mine," he says as if that's reason enough, and you suppose it is.

He let's go to get on the couch with you, batting your legs open to settle between them. The man practically flops on top of you with enough force to push an oof out of your lungs, but you can tell he's careful not to crush you entirely. His arms shove underneath your body, squeezing tight as he nuzzles his face against your newly fluffed breasts. You bring a hand up to scratch the back of his scalp the way you know he likes, and he sighs, melting into your body.

"Just like a big baby." Your chest bounces with silent laughter, and he gives a little sleepy warning nip to your clothed breast.

"Stop gigglin'. Tryna nap."

You almost laugh harder. He's not dispproving your point, but if this is what he needs, who are you to deny him?

"Alright, alright, I'll let my soldier rest." You calm yourself, softening your voice. "And I'll be here when you wake, too."

You know you're forgiven when he grunts and presses a kiss to where he bit.

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[skyrigel]

Simon's the guy who is nonchalant and a no-nonsense attitude, he's the man who doesn't care and absolute zero fucks and that's until missus comes along.

Now Simon's running around the house, bickering how you shouldn't skip breakfast and he's absolutely frowning when you side your greenies before he's holding your jaw and spooning them in, “Now be a good girl for me, won't ya' cupcake.” is all he says, tapping twice under your chin.

He's fussing over you, tucking you in scarves and caps and buttoning your coat because it's cold outside, “Can't see my pretty girl sick.” is all he says, bumping your nose.

John practically snorted when Simon pulled out your sneakers from your purse that he has been carrying, because he knew you're gonna whine about your pointy heels later, “Dance all you like babygirl” is all he says, bending down and removing those evil heels, then massaging your red ankle before he's sliding in your sneakers.

Oh, and yes he's gonna burn the whole fucking world if it meant to keep you warm, because he fucking cares only about missus.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[writersdrug]

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.

[konigsblog]

P!LINK COD MWII MASTERLIST (🌽)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. STRICTLY 18+. ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

BEWARE: DARKER THEMES BELOW.

PHOTO CREDIT: GLUTT_R ON 🐦/X

KÖNIG

somnophilia with pervert!könig

taking kidnapper!könig for the first time

size difference with petite!reader and könig

“just the tip, könig.” with loser!könig

loser!könig who loses control (breeding kink)

being groped by kidnapper!könig (hole inspection)

forced breeding with pervert!könig

hope inspection with older boyfriend!könig

virginity loss with könig (virgin!reader)

letting virgin!könig use your body (virginity loss)

raped and recorded by könig

entertainment for kidnapper!könig (non-con)

raped in public by rapist!könig

incel!könig making porn for his online girlfriend

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

punishments with brat!reader and simon riley (brat taming)

relaxing simon riley with your pussy

‘obedience’ with simon riley

stepbrother!simon riley and his best friends

humping your stepfather's bulge

car sex with stepbro!simon riley

rough dom!simon riley and his fuck doll

being manhandled by your stepbrother

raped by kidnapper!simon

being filled by simon riley (breeding kink)

hole inspection with simon riley

cock worship with older boyfriend!simon

rough dom!simon x brat!reader (brat taming)

punishments with stepfather!simon

having your attitude fixed by your lieutenant

semi-clothed sex with pervert!simon

raped for intel by lieutenant!simon

JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

pervert!soap x milf!reader (morning sex)

“just the tip, i promise.” with stepbro!soap

your needy stepbro attempting to distract you

rough dom!stepbro!soap punishing you

playful!stepbro!soap and his virgin stepsister virginity loss

stepbro!soap eating you out

cuddling fucking with stepbro!soap

drunken sex with loser!soap

“fuck, don’t stop, bonnie...” handjobs with soap

being fingered by stepbro!soap

mutual masturbation with soap

stepson!soap with stepmom!reader

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

shower sex with pervert!gaz

the type of videos gym bro!gaz sends you

riding gaz in your new lingerie

the result of getting high with stepbro!gaz

having your insides rearranged by gaz

riding gaz for the first time

“don’t pull out!” with pervert!gaz

sucking off gaz for the first time (inexperienced!reader)

letting virgin!gaz play with your cunt while you're high

treating soft!gaz to a handjob after his deployment

virgin!reader fucking themselves back on gaz

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

being eaten out by john price (1)

being eaten out by john price (2)

morning sex with older boyfriend!price

spit play with older boyfriend!price

morning sex with sugar daddy!price

being eaten out by sugar daddy!price

manhandled by price

making out with price

stepdad!price and his slutty, daft stepdaughter

[evermoreal]

thinking abt some kind of outlaw!au where the 141 walk away from a raid with a lot more than they bargained for.

౨ৎ *· edit: this is now a series!

a few weeks back they’d received word of a nobleman and his wife who’d be leaving for their honeymoon, valuables aboard the carriage. after a bit of lurking and bribing, they’d narrowed down just which road was desolate and wild enough to get away with the raid.

concealed by the bordering forests, they’d waited. an embarrassingly opulent carriage came dawdling down the road (polished wood, velvet curtains, ostentatious engravings) & they pounced.

the drivers & guards, they’d expected. the gunshots, the shouting. what took them by surprise, though, was the wife, who did not fight as gaz wrestled her into his arms. who watched a little too closely when ghost dragged his blade across her husband’s chest, demanding the location of their funds.

“where’s’a money?” price questioned, moving towards the woman when her husband’s pride weighed heavier than his cowardice. his broad palm gripped her jaw as gaz held her arms behind her back. “hm, lovey? y’speak english? y’better tell me, or your sweetheart ‘ere ‘ll be gutted before tha night’s over.”

she watched her husband writhe for a long moment, before meeting price’s gaze. her voice was flat, steady. “kill him.”

soap barked a laugh. ghost cocked his head.

price, though, was intrigued.

“kill ‘im?” he echoed. then, he lifted her hand, yanking the diamond ring off her finger and pinching it between his fingers. “wha’ bout this? just a rock, is it? ‘till death do us part’ mean nothin’ to ya?”

“words don’t mean much when you’re forced to say them, sir.”

“forced?” price questions, narrowed eyes flicking across your features. he looks to your husband, then, who’s soiled his pants. “tha fuck is this muppet forcin’?”

price is quiet for a while, watching your husband as he wriggles in ghost’s grip. when he meets your gaze, there’s a small, barely-there curve to his chapped lips. “you really want ‘im dead?” there’s an amusement to his tone, a disbelief.

you steel your gaze. “yes.”

the curve of his lips bends into a grin, and you’ve barely exhaled before he’s lifting his pistol, aiming it at your husband’s head, and shooting.

limp, he falls to the ground.

you don’t flinch. in fact your voice is steady when you state, “the money’s in the chest, beneath the seats.”

once again, price approaches you. grips your jaw, tilts your face this way and that. he taps your cheek twice, and says, “you heard the woman. soap, get the money. gaz, tie ‘er up, she’s with me.”

[deunmiu-dessie]

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 23 c.o.d men rambles with nsfw visuals (p-links) ♡

featuring!— kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish, simon ‘ghost’ riley, john ‘captain’ price, phillip graves, könig, vladimir makarov! ♡

₁ 𐙚 imagine fucking john doggy style, and he’s jus’ so horny for you so you guys don't even make it to the bed :( he tosses you onto the couch and lifts your ass into the air, his thick, meaty cock bruising your insides. then he grips your hair and bends you back to slant his lips over yours in a messy kiss 😖

₂ 𐙚 having a sloppy make-out session with gaz when he gets back from a mission. sucking on his tongue and whimpering into his mouth while his big hands run up and down your thighs and ass. gaz always gets you so needy and wet before he dicks you down, having tears streaming down your face and thighs trembling :((

₃ 𐙚 soap fucking his cum back into your swollen pussy while whining and whimpering, promising to get you pregnant; thick and hard at the thought of you round with his kids. he pumps your pussy to the brim with his cum that night, til it drips down your thighs.

₄ 𐙚 gaz loves to record the two of you having sex, and loves to send it to the 141 group chat. loves to show off his pretty girl whose pussy takes his big cock so well :( loves to show them how well you moan and beg, loves to show them your fucked out face, loves the way the team goes feral as you moan their names with bleary eyes and drool spilling down your chin. loves to show them that regardless, you're his.

₅ 𐙚 simon using your pussy as a cumdump... literally, when you act like a brat. he'll have you lay naked across the bed, hand fisting his cock as gazes at your tits, your needy cunt drooling and clenching. he'll watch as you cry and beg for him to fuck you, your wrists bound together and tied to the headboard. then he'll press his thick tip into your pussy and spill himself inside. brats don't get to cum, as he likes to say— sorry :(

₆ 𐙚 kyle 'will overstimulate you while pussydrunk' garrick. baby gaz just loves the taste of your pussy, especially after going so long without it :( you're so warm and sweet, needy and sobbing-- and he's missed the feel of your thick thighs wrapped around his head, missed the feeling of your hands running through his hair. so, just let him enjoy his meal.

₇ 𐙚 needy soap who swears he'll just rock against your panties, his thick cock nudging your fattened clit which presses eagerly against the pre-cum soaked fabric. soap who moves your panties to the side and shushes you with a kiss to your lips, swearing he'll just thrust against you; thumb brushing against your bundle of nerves. soap who loses himself in the moment, gripping your thighs and looking at you with pleading eyes, swearing he'll only use the tip, thick, bulbous head already stretching your pussy. 🥺

₈ 𐙚 after you had the baby, john can't stop thinking about seeing you swollen and round again, with your breasts heavy, and thighs thick. john who breeds your pussy at any moment he can. whether it be with you bent over the counter and cooking dinner, with you sleep; your pussy warm and welcoming, or even in the shower, your milk-heavy tits pressed against the shower door. ( bonus )

₉ 𐙚 makarov who finally gives in to your pleading demands, his hands rough as he forces you onto the bed, yanking down your skirt and pulling your panties to the side. his gaze is cold and calculating, even a bit annoyed. makarov who snatches the loli from your mouth, running it up your slick pussy before pushing it in. "Это то, что вы хотели, ��а?"

₁₀ 𐙚 he makes sure to fuck you well before he leaves on a mission, his thick cock bullying your slick cunt full of his cum. gaz makes sure you know who your pussy belongs to, makes sure he has your thighs trembling in his arms as he fucks you against the shower wall.

₁₁ 𐙚 simon loves to watch you ride him, loves to have your tits in his face, taking one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth. loves to hear you whine that your cumming for the fifth time, loves to watch as his abdomen becomes sticky with your creamy cum. loves watching your lips tremble and your eyes water as he thrusts sharply into you, knocking on your cervix and bruising it.

₁₂ 𐙚 having sex with gaz always overstimulates you in every sense of the word and not just with your body. gaz loves to watch you fall apart on his cock, loves to grab your chin and keep your eyes locked with his, loves to watch your gaze get bleary and your mouth struggle to form words all while his hand moves in quick figure eights on your clit, cock spearing through you deliciously. gaz will press kisses to your swollen lips, groaning into your mouth. "on me, luv. le' me see those gorgeous eyes."

₁₃ 𐙚 price loves to suck on your tits, while his cock slowly pumps in and out of you. loves to bury his face into the valley, placing kisses and sucking hickies. john price sucks on your nipples like a man starved, thick hands squeezing and kneading :(

₁₄ 𐙚 imagine getting punished by boyfriend graves because you fucked up during a mission, the objective getting away. he tells everyone to leave the room, glaring eyes stuck on yours. graves who orders you to strip, pushing you down against a busted couch, yanking down your combat pants, and tearing your panties. graves who angrily unzips himself, as you blubber and plead, pussy leaking and ready. he watches as your pussy struggles to take his cock, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you apologize repeatedly. "don't want to fucking hear it, sergeant."

₁₅ 𐙚 gaz fucking you into the bed after he gets home from a mission gone awry. soft lover gaz who just can't be his usual giving self. gaz who takes what he needs from you, regardless of the tears that stream down our face.

₁₆ 𐙚 könig, all needy can't help but fuck your thighs, whimpering and whining :(

₁₇ 𐙚 having a threesome with soap and gaz; who can't help but record as soap practically makes love to you with his eyes. gaz who could care less as you forget all about his cock, breathing heavily as he watches as your pussy struggles to swallow soap's cock. gaz who sends the video to the 141 group chat.

₁₈ 𐙚 imagine makarov sharing your pussy with yuri as a reward to the man. makarov who guides your mouth over his cock, all while sipping on his alcohol; yuri fucking into your pussy needily, grunting and groaning as you squeeze around him.

₁₉ 𐙚 100 percent believe this is how gaz and soap eat you out, prove me wrong. i'll wait. ( bonus: since soap made you cum first, you granted his wish. )

₂₀ 𐙚 john overstimulating you while whispering how much of a good girl you are, slapping at your thighs when you cringe away from him, his thick fingers finding your clit again. john who fucks into ravenously, cooing as you shudder and buck against him.

₂₁ 𐙚 graves finally puts your smart mouth to work, shoving his thick length down your throat. graves angrily saying your pussy isn't good enough for his cock. his words, not mine.

₂₂ 𐙚 angry sex with toxic gaz, who swears no one will ever fuck you as good as he will. who tells you that you belong to him, that you were made for each other, that you won't leave him. who fucks you dumb until you promise to stay.

₂₃ 𐙚 soap swears he won't cum inside you...

spent hours scrolling through twitter porn, help me.😔

[swordsandholly]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.

[chamomiletealeaf]

Being so sensitive to squirting that the 141 make fun of your for it and have little competitions to see who can make you squirt the fastest :(

Johnny holds the record of 37 seconds from fingering you so fast you couldn’t tell when his fingers were inside or out of you.

After their little competition your poor pussy was so swollen and sensitive that all it took was a few rough spanks to your pussy from Price to make you squirt again.

“Oh well look at that? Seems we got a new record holder hm?” Price teases you and Johnny.

“That doesn’t count the competition is over!” Johnny exclaims angrily at Price.

Meanwhile Simon and Gaz are fucking rock hard from watching you squirt again so quickly.

[bagofshinyrocks]

Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?” 

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. 

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room. 

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

naps to lovers?

price is an accident, you fall asleep watching a movie with him after he cradles you in his bed. plops down with you to do some paperwork and he's out, too. you wake up cuddled into his chest and pretend not to notice his boner.

next it's johnny. you're both exhausted from sparring and workouts. instead of showering, he pulls you to his bed and tells you to wait for him before you get in. by the time you want up, the sheets are crusted with sweat and soap is on top of you, crushing you to the mattress.

after that, it's both johnny and kyle. smooshed between them after a long hard mission, it's hard not to appreciate two nice pillows. simon has the picture of you three asleep on each other.

kyle finds you in the mess hall after, pulling you to your room with the promise of takeout and uninterrupted rest.

simon is standoffish at first, but eventually offers himself up as a weighted blanket for you after being reprimanded by another force's captain (don't worry, price and gaz are handling it). he lets you hold him close while stroking your hair and face until you drift off. he frequents in odd hours with you (when he knows your alone or stacked up with another one of the boys).

you don't mean for it to, but it becomes much more regular. price pulling you into his lap during late night briefings, soap's head in your lap, and kyle following you back to your room. they get so much more casually affectionate- hands on you at all times, forehead kisses, and sweet words. they begin to take you out together after missions and on off days to movies and shopping (they love dressing you up).

this all builds up to a random friday where they bring you to a house about 30 minutes from base. lately, they'd all been a bit more secretive and making investments "for the wellbeing of the team" like price's new truck that could seat 7. the house has all five of yours stuff in it (ash trays, half finished sketches, sewing kits, kyle's hat on the table). you see some of your missing clothes in one of the big dressers half-opened drawers.

it shouldn't be a surprise to you then when you walk in the bedroom and there's a california king. you really should have expected it, hen, they've been courting you for months!

yeah, johnny's naked on the bed, so what?

[whateveriwant]

Ghost is the type of dad that, when his kids are driving him up the fucking wall, pinches the bridge of his nose as he thinks to himself “I should’ve pulled out.”

Gaz is the type of dad that, when his kids are giving him attitude, drops them off at Nana’s house because he knows she’ll teach them a thing or two about respect.

Soap is the type of dad that, when his kids are being ungrateful little shits, takes all of the batteries/cables/chargers out of their devices and buries them somewhere in the yard.

Price is the type of dad that, when his kids are getting on his very last nerve, threatens to drop them off outside the nearest animal shelter like a box of unwanted puppies.