#soap x reader imagine

[ragingbookdragon]

But Are You Really?

COD Boys x Reader Blurbs

**********************************************************************

Price:

She frowned at the guards before her who were too busy chittering to notice her. “Excuse me,” she repeated herself for what seemed like the millionth time. “I’m here to see Jon. Can you please call him?”

One of the guards looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Look love, we were born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Fuck off.”

“I’m telling you, he works here! Jon!”

“There’s a fuck-ton of John’s here, lady, be specific!” the other griped and before she could respond, a voice echoed across the gate.

“Missus Price!”

The guards spun as she made eye contact with the Scotsman jogging over; relief flooded her. “Oh, John, thank goodness.”

Soap looked over the guards. “Is everything alright here?”

One of the men snorted. “Ah, you must be the John she’s looking for, Sergeant. Keeps telling us a John is waiting for her.”

The Scot cocked a brow. “Because the Captain is.”

The two went white. “Wait—you mean, she’s…?”

“Captain Price’s girlfriend? She is.” Soap took her arm in his like a gentleman. “C’mon, Missus Price, I’ll take you to the Skipper.”

Gaz:

“I’m telling you that Kyle is my boyfriend,” she sighed for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Bullshit,” one retorted. “You’re too sexy for a guy like him.”

“First of all, sexy coming from you isn’t a compliment. Secondly, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? ‘A guy like him?’” she glared at them. “Kyle’s a fucking hero and one badass motherfucker who works hand-in-hand with the Captain Jonathan Price while your asses are sitting here guarding a fucking gate.”

The other guard held his gun and took a step towards her. “What did you just say to us?”

She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware that she was very much so unarmed against two armed guards. “I—uh, I—”

“There you are, babe, I thought you got lost.”

They turned to see Gaz coming through the gate, a grin on his face; her sour expression flipped into a dazzling smile, and she greeted him with a kiss that had the guards looking away, and Gaz blushing when they pulled away.

“Nah, the modeling shoot just took a bit longer than I thought.” She took his hand as he walked her through. “Wanna see the promo-shots?”

“Always.”

Soap:

She cocked a hand on her hip and glared at the guards. “Look, I’m not even going to try and be nice. Call John MacTavish down here now.”

“We aren’t privy to taking orders from civilians,” the guard griped. “Get lost, lady.”

“JOHN MACTAVISH! BRING YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!” she bellowed from outside the gates, cupping her hands to her mouth for added distance. “IF I HAVE TO COME IN THERE TO FIND YOU, I’M GOING TO—!”

The guards tried to shush her when a yell echoed from the courtyard, “OR YOU’LL WHAT!” they all spun around to see Soap stomping over. “BEING YOUR BOYFRIEND IS LIKE BEING IN HELL ITSELF!”

“OH, THAT’S RICH CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU KEEP MY FUCKING APARTMENT SEVENTY-SIX WHEN YOU’RE THERE!”

The guards weren’t even going to try and pry the two apart as they yelled in each other’s faces about leaving the toilet seat up and forgetting to unload the dishwasher, but while she had that on him, he seemed to have the fact that she moved his shit around the apartment as revenge.

She tried to walk away, but Soap’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, tugging her back over the base line and into the base. “You let go—”

“Aye, shut ‘ur trap,” he retorted. “Nattering like a fucking cicada in my goddamn ear. Might as well chatted it off.”

“Oh, you fucking bas—”

Ghost:

She could feel the weight of their stares on her, and their laughter chipped away at her mood. “I’m being serious,” she muttered. “Simo—Ghost, and I are dating.”

The guard cackled. “Yeah, and I’m the fucking Queen of England.” He waved her off. “That bastard doesn’t have a girlfriend. Look at him. He doesn’t even have any friends.”

Indignation shot through her, and she got up in the guard’s face. “Simon has friends. He has Price, and Gaz, and Soap. He doesn’t have many, but he does have friends. And he has me. I am Simon’s girlfriend.” Fear dripped in her veins as the guards seemed to stand offensively at her, and she added with her heart pounding in her chest, “And I’m as cowardly as they come, but if it came to it, I…I would lay down my life for him. The world needs Simon. I need Simon. He’s a hero and a better man than either of you.”

One raised their hand at her, either to strike her or intimidate her with a feint but his hand didn’t get farther than beside his head when someone grabbed it, spun him around and slammed him against the wall. “You gonna strike a civilian, soldier?” a cold voice rumbled behind his ear. “That’s an offense I’d see you punished for. Even more so for it being my lover.”

Her expression eased as she saw Ghost appear before her. “Simon,” she murmured, and his eyes darted to hers, softening a quick moment before turning frigid again.

“If you ever raise a hand to her again, I’ll cut it off and make you eat it one finger at a time. Am I clear?”

“Crystal!” the guard hurried and Ghost shoved him to the ground and secured a hand around her waist, bringing her over the gate.

“C’mon, love.” His voice was low and gravelly. “Sorry about that. Tried to come earlier but the meeting ran late.”

“You were there when I needed you,” she replied, leaning her head against his chest. “Like a knight in masked armor.”

He looked at her, eyes shining in a way that told her he was smiling at her.

[lazybutsmexy]

The Mission

Background Ghost x K9 handler!reader x Soap - K9 Dolly centered

A/N: this is related to this request, but it can be read as a stand alone.

Warnings: none! GN!Reader but they get periods.

Summary: K9 Dolly is sent on her first solo mission.

Word count: 2.1 k

This would be, quite possibly, her most important mission so far in her short life. It would be her first ever solo assignment, too. So, quite a big deal. Might lead to a promotion. Or maybe a steak dinner. She would be happy with whichever. 

Her nose twitched in the air as she peeked her head out into the hallway. Her ears were shot up straight as she scanned the area around her in earnest. 

All clear. 

Dolly stole a glance back before she left the room drowned in shadows. Her lean body allowed her to walk out without needing to push the door open any further - which was a good thing, given the fact she wouldn't be able to pull it closed again. 

Her blunt nails barely scratched the tile floor as she trotted down the hallway in the general direction of her objective. Dolly was confident in her strut, having memorized her path from the many times she had walked with Sergeant L/n in that same direction. She knew she had to cross the long hallway and make it to a big area, then another hallway, then another big, open area, enter a building, and cross yet another hallway to get to the infirmary. There she would deliver the note strapped to her collar, and guide whoever took the note back to the Sergeant's room. 

Easy peasy toy squeaky.

The echo of boot-strapped steps made her trot falter to a walk, and Dolly paid closer attention to the sound. Sergeant had said "bug-bug" which was short for "don't let any other soldier catch you or you'll get in trouble". Avoiding being caught was easy enough, she had two more running legs than anyone else on base. Avoiding being seen was the issue - it was what made her mission so thrilling. 

Dolly listened closely to the steps as they faded away, and she resumed her previous trot across the hallway. Soon enough, she arrived at the big area, where soldiers ate and the Lieutenant gave her meat scraps for some time. 

The common area was empty, although she noticed the distant clanging of pots and plates coming from somewhere on the right and- CHICKEN!

It smelled like chicken! Lunch would be chicken! Oh that was good news alright. Her nose tingled as the aroma wafted in, and her tail fanned behind her excitedly. Oh, she loved chicken! Chicken was so good, so tasty-

"...dog!"

Dog? No, chicken! 

Wait. 

Dog? She was a dog. 

Dolly's head turned to follow the voice and her eyes met the soldier that was stomping towards her. He stretched his hands to grab her and she jumped into action, ducking under his outstretched arm and booking it towards the open door.

Bug-bug!, it echoed in her brain as she sped up towards the lawn. Surprisingly, the soldier was really fast, being able to follow after her - although a couple dozen feet behind. He was shouting and giving her commands to stop. He was using the right words, the commands she had heard her whole training - but the Sergeant had given her a mission.

Dolly grew concerned, the more the soldier shouted, the more soldiers would see her, and she would eventually be caught. She had to find a way to get rid of him, and quickly. 

Her stride was firm and strong - she knew she would be able to outrun him with a bit of a push. And so she did, summoning her inner whippet she cut through the lawn like an arrow. The wind whistled past her ears and made her eyes sting a little, but she could take it - for the sake of her mission. 

Dolly took a wide turn behind the buildings, avoiding running into other soldiers who stepped away from her path in a mix of confusion and amusement. She ran around the enormous buildings until she got back to the front doors, and made a screeching halt, crawling under a parked humvee. 

The vehicle was tall enough for anyone to spot her if they crouched if just a little. But Dolly stayed still, snapping her mouth shut to hide her panting as she watched the legs of the soldier stomp away. She waited a few moments before sneaking from under the humvee and towards the building. She had to be very careful now, she couldn't risk being found and caught, she had to find the infirmary. 

Dolly pushed past the door and strutted in, the adrenaline of the chase still pumping in her system. A brief thought of being in the clear passed through her mind when she saw no one at the immediate proximity of the hallway, but something was wrong - she could feel it. she could smell it, and hear it.

It was much noisier than usual, clanking noises and grunts echoing in the air around her. It didn’t sound like an infirmary. Her uneasy steps led her to the source of the noise, a door a bit further away to the left. It was wide open, so she peered in and felt her anxiety grow.

It was filled with soldiers, lifting weights, punching sandbags, sparring against each other. It smelled of sweat and musk, and way too much testosterone. She tried to retrace her steps, bug-bug her way out of there as fast as she could, but her bum collided with something hard. 

Startled, she let out a loud yelp - effectively catching the attention of quite a few men inside the room - and turned around. Her ears were flat on her head as she looked up to see Captain Price looking down at her in amusement. 

“Ah, I did think I saw a dog running around out there,“ he chuckled, resting his hands on his hips, “I thought my eyes were deceiving me.” His voice didn’t sound angry, but Dolly couldn’t shake off the feeling of being in deep trouble. She was certainly surrounded now, she had no fighting chance. Besides, she was still recovering from her sprint earlier, so all she could hope was that he would be friendly to her. 

“Dolly?” Another familiar voice caught her attention and she whipped her head back into the room, just in time to notice Sergeant Johnny Soap walking towards her. She ducked her head a little lower, her ears remained flat, but her tail made the tiniest movement as he approached. Maybe if she looked very apologetic and showed how sorry she was they wouldn’t be so mad? “What’re you doing here, pup? Where's Y/n?”

A low whine left her throat as Soap stroked the fur on her back, and Dolly instinctively relaxed into his touch. 

“There’s something in her collar,” Ghost pointed out, approaching the group after Soap while drying the sweat off his neck with a small towel. Soap carefully reached around her collar until his fingers caught the piece of paper secured on it, and pulled it off. 

Dolly sat down and looked down dejectedly - her mission was finished, she had been caught. Her dark irises rose up at the men as the paper was unfolded, inwardly kissing her promotion - and her steak dinner - goodbye. 

Soap straightened the paper and found a note in Y/n’s handwriting, and Ghost looked over his shoulder to read it, too.

“Strong painkillers needed. Period cramps will be the death of me. Sgt. L/n.”

A short silence preceded Soap’s amused laugh, as he pocketed the note and leaned down to give Dolly an earnest scratch behind her ears. 

“Aw, you were sent on a little stocking mission, aye?” Dolly perked up and her ears shot up straight, did he understand? “You got in the wrong building, pup, the infirmary is in the next one.”

A low rumble resembling a chuckle came from Ghost, who also leaned down to give Dolly a good stroke. He then turned to Price, who hadn’t yet read the note and was eyeing them in curiosity. “I’ll go check on them, maybe Soap can aid the little scout on her task.”

“Aye, leave it to me,” Soap beamed, patting the side of his thigh and grinning at the pup, “Dolly, heel! Let’s get those painkillers, hm?” 

Dolly stood up and wagged her tail, instantly gluing her body to Soap’s left leg and looking up at him. He was good! He was going to help! 

Soap beamed down at her and led her out of the door, Ghost following them outside. Just as they stepped out, the soldier that had been trying to catch Dolly came to a stop before them, heaving loudly as he tried to catch his breath. He was red in the face, and his hair was in all directions, his uniform looked a little damp and definitely not as put together as it was when he first saw her. 

“Lieu- Lieutenant, Sergeant,” he panted in a greeting, barely keeping his body straight as he tried really hard not to wheeze in front of his superiors, “I- *pant* I’ve been trying to catch- *pant* catch the dog,” he swallowed down a cough, and Soap waited until the poor man regained a semi-normal breathing pattern before answering. 

“Well, there’s no need for that anymore, as you can see,” he reached down and rested his hand on top of Dolly’s head, who remained by his side even though she had the urge to hide behind him. 

“That dog shouldn’t be here, sir,” the soldier protested with a frown in his brow, “should be locked up.”

Ghost shared a look with Soap, before glancing back at the soldier, “this dog was sent on an errand by her handler,” the other man looked like he wanted to protest again, but he cut him off, “and by the way, this dog outranks you, private, just leave her be.”

At the man’s bewildered look, Price chimed in - he had walked out right on time to witness the exchange. “K9 agents share the same rank or higher than their handler, private, you must’ve read this in the military rule book,” the soldier straightened up as he noticed their Captain, but Price simply shot him an amused look, “K9 Dolly’s handler is Sergeant L/n, therefore this is Sergeant Dolly to you.”

“Uh, right,” the man flushed, giving his superiors an embarrassed nod, “my apologies sir, I’ll revise that.” 

Dolly simply watched as the soldier quickly saluted and scrambled away, but could practically smell the amusement in the three men around her. That relaxed her greatly under Soap’s palm. Both of them watched as Lieutenant Ghost walked towards the barracks before they resumed their walk to the infirmary. 

Moments later, Ghost found himself in front of a familiar door, opened in the slightest. He pushed it further, the hinges giving the tiniest whine and stirring Y/n from their dozing. He approached the bed, watching the blanketed lump making the tiniest movement. 

“...Dolly?” the lump groaned, and Ghost couldn’t help but smile under his balaclava.

“Wrong dog, love,” he hummed, the springs creaking a little under his weight as he sat down by their side. His hand rested on where he guessed was their back, and applied a bit of pressure as he rubbed it up and down, earning an appreciative moan, “have you eaten anything?”

“...had some water,” Y/n admitted after a few silent seconds. There was no use in lying, he would find out sooner or later anyway. 

Ghost frowned at that - he had feared it would be the case. Since Y/n had sent Dolly to the infirmary instead of going themselves, he assumed they hadn’t had the means to get proper breakfast either. “I’ll get you something proper later, ‘kay?” he promised, carefully lifting the edge of the blanket to peek at their scrunched-up face. He leaned down, pressing a clothed kiss on their clammy forehead.

Just then, his ears picked up the familiar scratch of nails on tile, and seconds later he had to pull away to let Dolly give away her share of kisses. He watched the tender scene as Soap crouched down in front of him, trying to get a peek of their face himself as he handed them a single pill and a bottle of water. 

Y/n slowly sat up, taking both and gulping the pill with a large swig of water before snuggling closer to Ghost’s warmth. Dolly watched the trio, her tail thumping against the floor as she waited for her chance to join the cuddle pile that didn’t take long to form. Soap climbed on the bed and gave her a wink, patting his lap. 

Mission: pain relief. Status: completed.

A/N2: raise your hand if you also find the fact about military dogs having ranks awesome

[janasrdhr]

This is the COD Masterlist. As shown, it features multiple tabs, each designed to facilitate navigation to the particular story of your choice. Please note that a few are yet to be introduced and updated further. Happy reading, lovelies!

⋆ Simon “Ghost” Riley

⤷ Oh baby, Oh baby ⤷ Princess? ⤷ A Night Too Young ⤷ Stay. ⤷ Hiraeth

⤷ Salvation

⋆ John “Soap” MacTavish

⋆ Alejandro Vargas

⋆ Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

© All content on this writing blog is subject to copyright protection; unauthorized reproduction or distribution of any material without permission is prohibited.

[beloveds-embrace]

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

part 2

Other works + help me choose a title for this 😩

[joonieskinks]

simon ghost riley is sometimes a little blunt (warning: smut)

You adore him for who he is, but it still unnerves you with just how blunt he can be at times.

It usually happens privately with just you:

“In about 5 minutes, I’m gonna eat you out.” He says as you are in the middle of The Goblet of Fire on the couch. You almost choked on your popcorn.

Or you’re doing laundry in the morning. “We need pineapple juice next time we’re out, want you to enjoy swallowing next time you’re suckin me off.” Jaw dropped.

He does it in front of the team too- and sometimes it’s even worse:

You accidentally dropped your lip balm onto the bar floor while fishing it out of your purse and bend to pick it up.

“Haven’t seen that angle in a while, dove. It’s been too long since we done doggy.”

It’s a never-ending series of eyebrow raises when Simon decides to open up his mouth and you’re around, needless to say. You brunt all of the embarrassment and the deep blushes, Simon couldn’t give a shit. He didn’t even clock it when John, Johnny and Kyle would all give him shocked looks. Man just owns it. Completely unbothered.

“Youre wearin the skirt you wear when you wanna get fucked. That your goal?”

“Simon!” You hiss, you can feel the red hot heat rush to your face.

But he just stares back at you, waiting for your response. You can hardly believe how composed he is when his Captain is right there glaring at him.

“So?”

“I need another beer.” John excuses himself, he can’t even look you in the eyes right now. Kyle joins him shortly after making a run for it, but you’re left with a quiet Johnny patiently waiting for you to respond. Eager, almost. Joy.

“You can’t just say things like that in public, especially not in front of your friends!” You lecture, pulling down your skirt in the process.

“Why? If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just said so, love. Give me 2 to down this pint and I’ll meet you in the toilets, yeah?”

“Simon!” You smack his thigh.

“Can I watch?” Johnny asks excitedly.

“No!-“ “Fine.”

Johnny’s face lights up while yours gives Simon a death stare.

“Do you want it or not?” You roll your eyes and throw your purse over your shoulder.

“You two are ridiculous.” And they watch you walk away.

Simon only shrugs, pounding back his beer before coming after you. Doesn’t make a difference to him if he fucks you here and now or at home and later.

“… so is that a no?” Johnny asks with puppy eyes.

[stargirlstabber]

imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?

[konigbaby]

I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH | via vhenan_virabelasan on insta এ

[disgustingtwitches]

threesome with Kyle and Johnny and you are reminded that Johnny is so smart he's stupid:

Soap: can I finish inside you

You: yeah I have an IUD

Soap: you got a bomb in your pussy?

Kyle: that's an IED you absolute clownshoe

...

Kyle: you are a demolitions specialist

[superhoeva]

the 141 boys with a crying reader is eating me aliveee

the first time you cry in front of gaz is an accident and that man turns into the softest thing you'll ever meet. maybe it's a bad day at work. or a rude dick at the store you stopped at on the way home. regardless, he's allll sweet cuddles and coos. shushing you while kissing your wet cheeks, mumbling that it's gonna be alright, lovie. 'm here, 've got you, yeah?

silence. that's the first thing that comes when soap realizes you aren't faking it. those are real tears falling from your eyes and he's got to do something about it. there's an ache in his stomach when you lull against him, and the man's got to pull himself together before you're both blubbering messes. with no idea what to say, he opts for physical comfort instead. holding you almost too tight, hoping that you can't feel how fast his heart is beating at the sight of you so sad.

price spots the tears before they come. senses the energy in the air as you walk to him with slumped shoulders. what's this now, hm? the question rocks something inside you–breaks the dam–and collapses you straight into his awaiting arms. he ignores your whine when he pulls away, cradling your face and reminding you to breathe. in and out, darlin'. that's good, just breath with me for a bit. whatever it is this time, he'll fix it. make it better, and do the same thing the next time you come before him with a wobbly lip and watery eyes.

what's happened? who did this, i'll kill em. you can't find a break in your cries to answer simon, and this makes him sober a bit. finally, it takes him a second to realize that that's not what you need to hear right now. that version of him isn't who he needs to be right now. so he stuffs down the anger and replaces it with a palm against your back and cradling of your head with the other. he stands completely still, as if you'll break, and stays that way until your sobs revert to soft sniffles. don't 'ave to tell me right now, love, okay? just don't pass out 'n me, alright?

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[forsworned]

Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

[majinbangus]

You've always wanted a dog. It doesn't matter what kind, you'd be happy with any, but no matter how much discussion, Soap never budges, holding the exact opposite opinion about dogs. Which you understand given his experiences with them, but it's still a little disappointing.

Until he compromises one day under the condition he gets to choose the dog. Specifically a guard dog, in his words. One he's known and worked with multiple times. One he trusts to take care of his sweet lass. One that will protect.

You get so excited, you buy the collar and everything, eagerly waiting the day Soap is coming home with the dog... only to be confused when Ghost walks in behind him, no dog in sight.

"Uh, hi, Simon?" You peek around the man. Perhaps the dog is hidden behind the man's massive frame. It's not. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?" You shoot Soap a confused look. "And where's the dog you promised me?"

Soap chuckles at your confusion. "He's right here, sweetheart." He pats Ghost's shoulder, and the man takes one big step closer to you, closing the gap within that single stride. The shadow he casts somehow makes him look larger. "You said you'd be happy with anything, and I got you the best one! Ghost'll do anything you say—sit, stay, attack—you'll love him!"

You're not quite convinced. Can't lie and say you're not a little disappointed, but all thoughts of dissatisfaction are briefly forgotten when Ghost reaches down to grab your wrist, the one loosely holding the leather dog collar in hand, and undoes the buckle for you. He then guides your limp hands to slip it around his neck, adjusting it perfectly before letting your hands drop. When he pulls away, a shiver runs through you at the hungry gleam in his eyes, smirk evident in his voice.

"Woof."

You gulp. Maybe Soap is right. Maybe you will love him.

[ragingbookdragon]

“I don’t like being out in the dark,” she says, holding the rifle closer to her. “Why’d Price send us out here again?”

Soap shifts, flicking the night vision goggles up and down to look over the deer stand. “Said somethin’ was buggin’ out ‘roun’ the town ‘ere. Was makin’ the locals scared.”

“So, Price sends us to save Herefordshire?” She rolls her eyes. “Shouldn’t that be his job?”

“‘e’s busy, so ‘e sent us.” Soap pauses, listening to the sounds in the forest around them. “Reports said whatever’s comin’ in and out of town is favored to this area.” He looked around. “What animals are even out ‘ere?”

“Rats, foxes, deer, mice, badger,” she replies, glancing up at the moon. “Nothing that would be killing large dogs and wildlife like it has.” Her eyes find Soap’s. “I checked with the morgue that had the first human attack. Whatever killed him, tore him to pieces. M.E. said there was a massive amount of adrenaline and cortisol in his system.”

Soap’s brows furrow. “Wha’ the fuck did tha’?”

“My guess? Some sadistic, psycho killer,” she answers and shifts her gaze towards the tree line; her eyes see a reflective flash from her the lights on her helmet and she frowns. “Soap, what’s that?”

“What’s wha’?” He follows her gaze, squinting in the dark. “I don’ see it.”

“There,” she says and points out. “There’s something in the tree line.”

Soap cranes his neck, squinting and he blinks. “I think tha’s a fox.”

“Doesn’t look like one.”

“Coyote?”

“Not native here.”

“Dog?” He tries and she frowns when it steps closer into the moonlight; her blood runs cold, and she shifts ever so slightly.

“Soap. Get in the deer stand. Now.”

He looks at her then back to the animal beginning to emerge. “Why? What is it?” As it clears, his eyes widen. “Is that a wolf?”

“Wolves are extinct in England.”

“Then wha’ the fuck is tha’?” He asks, a bile like fear beginning to rise in his throat.

She grabs her rifle, cocks it and points it at the four-legged beast. “It’s not a wolf. Get up in the tree stand. Now.”

“Lass, I—”

“That’s an order, Sergeant MacTavish,” she growls, watching with narrowed eyes as the wolf let out a soft growl and stood on two legs.

“Mother Mary and Joseph,” she hears from above her. “Is’a wulver.”

“That Scottish for werewolf, MacTavish?”

Soap breathes out in shock, can barely raise his rifle to provide covering fire if she needed it. “Aye, ‘tis.”

[lazybutsmexy]

Bird hunting

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

Chapter 7: Distress

Ch. 6 < Series Masterlist > Ch. 8

Warnings: NON-CON. It doesnt go all the way, but if you'd rather avoid it, skip the section between these lines **********

Summary: Canary gets a taste of what's coming to her if she doesn't find a way out.

Do not read if you're under 18. This work contains mature and triggering themes.

Word count: 3100~

Canary began stirring awake soon after they had arrived at the new location. Her sight was blurry and her head pounded like she had stuck her head in front of a jumbo jet turbine at full speed. She was swinging a little as she was being carried like a sack of potatoes, the smell of fresh, open air a short blessing before being replaced by the musty, woody smell of her new enclosure. Judging by the ground both outside and inside the building, and the strong scent of the forest permeating everything, she guessed it was a log cabin, somewhere in the woods. 

When she was finally laid down, her head started spinning again, and a weak groan escaped her lips in complaint. Her stomach felt like it had melted along with the rest of her inner organs, and everything inside of her was just a slush waiting to be expelled.She was laying on her side, and when she tried to shift, she found her body stiff as a rock, and the familiar sensation that it didn’t belong to her. 

She tried looking at the space around her, but it all looked like muddy colors to her. She still managed to see that they were in a single-room cabin, with one door at the front and one at the back, which she supposed was the bathroom. There was a window above the bed she was laying on, and a kitchenette opposite her. 

The dizziness eventually became too much for her and she shut her eyes tightly. She tried to take deeper breaths to keep her nausea at bay, swallowing a whimper at her aching lungs. She focused her drowsy senses into the sounds, trying to piece together her current situation. 

As soon as Charlie had set her down in the bed, he grabbed a chair at the foot of the bed and sat on it, lighting a cigarette and casting a glance at her feet. He realized that the burns he had made before were healing faster than he expected, and would soon have to refresh them. They couldn't take chances on her trying to run away until the transaction had been completed. 

Alan stood by the door, staring at Canary for a bit longer, before turning back and walking to the van, where Luke still sat. 

"Get a new vehicle, and get rid of this one," he instructed, his voice much calmer than the previous day. Luke nodded slowly, noticing the bags under his eyes. Alan searched into his wallet and handed him a handful of bills, "then stop by a gas station or a convenience store, get us some food and water."

"For the girl too?" Luke raised his eyebrow, stuffing the bills in the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Yeah," Alan sighed and licked his lips, and Luke unknowingly imitated him licking his own, "we have to at least keep her alive, and she hasn't eaten or drank anything since we picked her up. Make sure her meal is tightly packed, she looks smart enough to not eat anything she suspects was tampered with."

Luke nodded and started the engine again, the van rumbling to life. He leaned his arm on the open window, and almost flinched when Alan placed his hand on his forearm, leaning closer to the door. Luke looked at him expectantly, hoping the flush in his cheekbones could pass for a reaction to the early morning chill. 

"Be very careful, Luke," Alan grumbled, his eyes boring into the driver's. 

Luke let out a shaky breath as he placed his other hand on top of Alan's, giving his knuckles a discreet stroke. "I will, don't worry." He shot him a dazzling smile, and Alan stood there for a couple more seconds than necessary staring at it before squeezing his arm and finally letting go. 

From where Charlie was sitting, he had a direct view of the two men outside. He noticed how closely they talked to each other, and a chuckle rumbled in his chest as he told a slow drag of his cig. "...Those two should just kiss already." He said to no one in particular, shaking his head with a fond smile on his lips. 

He watched as the van left down the rocky road, and Alan walked back into the cabin and shut the door behind himself. He looked exhausted, and Charlie couldn't really blame him. Nothing he had planned had gone according to plan. He felt a pang of guilt in his gut, knowing that it was partially his fault. Alan had always been the one to plan their operations, and so far he had managed to keep them out of trouble. 

But now they were, and all because he lost a stupid dart. 

Charlie extended his arm to Alan, silently offering him the cigarette pack. Alan took it immediately, lighting a stick before handing him the pack again. This alarmed Charlie even more - Alan rarely ever smoked. He watched as the taller man took a slow drag of his cig before clearing his throat. “So, now what?”

Alan leaned back his head, staring at the ceiling as the cigarette dangled dangerously in his long fingers. There had been too many setbacks in this operation, and he wondered if he had been losing his touch. The fact that Charlie was still asking him what to do brought a glimmer of hope, knowing that the man still trusted his judgment. He pondered for a few more seconds, before taking his phone and glancing at something on the screen. 

“Well, we won’t have time to make a video,” he finally spoke, sounding more tired than he intended, “we’ll have to do with a few photos once the sun comes out - the lighting here is shit.” He shook the ash from his cigarette before taking another slow drag, “I’ll have to walk back to the road to send it, I barely have any service here. And once Luke is back and we’ve eaten something, I’ll go again and wait for a confirmation from our buyer.”

Charlie nodded and stared at Alan, as he leaned his head back again against the wall and shut his eyes. Charlie had managed to nod off during the trip while he was in the back of the van, but Alan and Luke hadn’t had that luxury. He licked his chapped lips in thought, before breaking the silence once again, “You should try and get some sleep,” Alan made a noncommittal grunt, and Charlie continued, “both Luke and I need you and your brain fresh and rested, after all.”

Alan couldn’t help but snort a laugh - Charlie was concerned for him? Now that was news. He finished his cigarette and stomped on the stub, before getting more comfortable on his chair. “...Wake me when the sun comes out.”

Charlie smirked and took a drag of his almost forgotten cig, “You got it, boss.” She glanced over at the woman sleeping on the bed, taking a long look at the curves of her body. Her clothed breasts, half-squished against the mattress. Perhaps if he was quiet…

Canary found the silence unnerving, as the minutes slowly passed after Blondie had apparently fallen asleep. She tried not to think too much of her thundering heart as she processed the information she had just learned. 

They had a buyer for whom they created videos or photographs, as a catalog, and later would sell the girls to. And she was their newly acquired product. 

A chill ran down her spine, knowing that it would be only a matter of time until she had no chance of escaping at all. She suppressed a nauseous shiver while wishing there was a way to wrest the effects of the drug away from her mind and body. 

Her eyes slowly peeled open, and she noticed Blondie dozing off on the chair across from her. She wondered where Baldie was, when a calloused hand clamped down on her mouth, effectively muffling her and filling her with terror at the same time. A sharp edge pressed against her throat, making her freeze in her struggle. 

“If you’re a good girl and stay quiet,” Charlie growled in her ear, licking her earlobe in the process, “you won’t get hurt at all.” 

Bullshit, Canary thought, and weighed her options in her mind. If she tried to take a bite of his hand, he could use the knife against her throat. And he had apparently killed another woman before her. She wouldn’t be able to fight him, given the fact that the drug still ran through her veins and he was - at the moment - much stronger than her physically. Her arms - which were still tied up behind her back - and legs felt like they were filled with lead, and even if she somehow managed to push him off, she wouldn’t be able to get away quickly enough. Besides, any struggle could wake Blondie up, and he may decide to join Baldie. 

With the sudden realization that there was no way out, the weight of her powerlessness hurt in her chest. She tried to blink away the angry tears pooling in her eyes, as she felt Baldie’s body pressure against her and manhandling her until she was laying flat on her stomach. The hand that was once on her mouth moved to the back of her head, fisting the roots of her hair in a tight grip and pushing her face into the mattress. 

************************************************

The new pressure on her face, added to the stiffness of her diaphragm due to the drugs, and the terror of the situation she was in, carried her into hyperventilation, trying to get any amount of oxygen into her system to keep her mind awake. Her chest heaved under her as her tears streamed freely out of her eyes, feeling the dangerous pressure of the knife slowly move from the side of her neck to the back. 

Baldie playfully ran the hilt of the knife over the skin of her nape and the prominence caused by her column, enjoying the fearful shiver that produced in the woman beneath him. He hooked the knife under the neck of her sweatshirt and hoodie, pulling back and tearing the clothes, exposing her back now only covered by her sports bra. 

He felt himself grow hard at the sight of the expanse of skin before his eyes, and he pressed his clothed erection against her ass, relishing on the way she tensed up at the contact. “Such a pretty thing,” he grumbled, leaning down once again and licking a long stripe from the top of her bra to her nape, finally moving to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, biting down with a growl, “and all mine,” he gripped her hair tighter as she tried to shake him off, the mattress muffling her whimpers, “for now, at least.”

He let out a dark chuckle, as the hand that previously held the knife left it aside and stroked her back. She flinched at the contact, her panting growing heavier in her panic as it slid down her side and snuck under her bra, groping her breast harshly. 

Canary’s face scrunched up, her entire nerves fraying at the constant mixture of disgust, fear, and rage swirling through her. Her thoughts swam in all directions as she felt that she was losing a battle she had never had a chance to win in the beginning. 

DON’T TOUCH ME. LEAVE ME ALONE. STOP FUCKING TOUCHING ME. I’LL DESTROY YOU. SOMEONE FIND ME, PLEASE! STOP TOUCHING ME. I’LL KILL YOU, I’LL KILL YOU! GET OFF ME. GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME. SIMON,, JOHNNY, PLEASE! I’LL FUCKING TEAR YOUR HANDS OFF. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. STOP STOP STOP STO-

*************************************************

“Charlie,” Alan’s voice was stern and throaty, and Charlie stopped touching her with a startle, yet Canary couldn’t relax, still squirming under the man, “I told you to wake me when the sun came out.” 

Charlie looked up to the window, seeing that the sun had indeed come up. He leaned away from the woman, still holding her head down into the mattress as he threw a little grin at the other man, “Sorry, got distracted.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Alan grumbled as he stretched his arms over his head with a grunt, and took his smartphone to open the camera feature, “sit her up, I’ll take some photos.”

Charlie smirked and pulled her up by her hair, chuckling at the little yelp she couldn’t hold back. She tried to jerk her head away but he held her tightly in place. He manhandled her into sitting up, the bedsheets wrinkling beneath her as she struggled - and failed - to make her legs move. 

Alan stepped closer, focusing the phone on her face. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the hateful glare she sent him, with her swollen eyes and her face red from shame, anger, and the friction against the mattress. She was still panting and shivering, but he had a feeling that if she were in any better condition, she would go for his throat. “Smile, sweetheart,” he cooed as the flash from the camera blinded her momentarily. He took a couple more photos, before pocketing his phone and heading to the door. “I’m going to send the photos to the buyer and be right back. Make yourself useful and get us something to eat ready,” and with that, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Charlie grumbled something under his breath and let Canary flop back down on the bed, and walked towards the small kitchenette, searching through the cabinets for something that was hopefully not expired.  

The cabin was left silent except for his rummaging and Canary’s heaving sounds, as she focused on keeping her sobs in - she would not give that man the satisfaction of breaking down any further. She forced herself to lay on her side, keeping her exposed back out of his sight and closer to the wall behind her. It may have been just willful thinking, but the feeling of the wall behind her gave her security, and little by little her panting slowed down. 

As she settled again and her panicked state subsided, she noticed a hardness under the wrinkled sheets, digging into her waist from beneath her. Slowly, she wiggled herself until her fingers brushed against the object, and after a few seconds, her eyes widened in recognition. 

The knife. 

~~~~~~

Officer Ryan Johansson was off duty, and he hated every minute of it. He despised himself for having pulled an extra shift the previous day to get a day off that day. He would have a lunch date with his fianceé's parents later that day, and so he had arranged with another officer to switch shifts. 

He loved Darla with his whole heart, marrying her was possibly the best thing that would ever happen to him in his life. But Melanie Kirk had been his best friend since the academy. Losing her in such a violent way left a mark in the entire station, but it left an abyss in him. A dull emptiness that he knew would hardly ever be filled with something else. 

Ryan had been at the crash site, but was not allowed to get any close to the car - although everyone knew they were two peas in a pod, him getting close would have only interfered with everyone else’s job. He had also offered himself to go with detective Hartford to visit her family to deliver the news. He was a familiar face to the couple just like the detective, and he held Melanie’s sister, Ruth, while she crumbled in her grief. 

His double shift had ended at midnight, but only once he had gotten home to Darla and shared the news with her he allowed himself to break down. She comforted him through the night, and even offered to reschedule the lunch with her parents. But Ryan had already gotten the word from higher up that he would not be given more shifts until the next day. 

The fact that he would not be able to participate in the search for the van and the men who killed his best friend for a whole day drove him crazy. His blood boiled at the thought that Melanie had attempted to aid in the rescue of a woman who was in grave danger, and was killed for it. 

He still remembered the way he had teased her when she had joined the evidence department instead of the active patrol like him.

“Well, since evidence guys don't tend to get in the line of fire, I won’t have to worry about your safety, Mels.”

Utter. Fucking. Bullshit. 

As the sun rose in the horizon, and he hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, too deep in his thoughts, he decided to go for a ride to clear his mind. His body was still pumping angry adrenaline, and he desperately needed a release. 

He was never one for speeding, as it didn’t tickle his brain like a long ride. Riding his bike had always been therapeutic for him. His biggest decisions were thought over and over during long rides through the forests or the countryside. On his bike he had decided to join the police instead of studying finance. On his bike he had pumped himself up before asking Darla on a date. On his bike he had decided to finally cut contact with his childhood friend. 

The rumbling of his bike as it took him through the mostly empty streets brought him to a state of calmness he hadn’t felt in hours. Deeply inhaling the early morning chilly air, Ryan was able to empty his mind and feel the mental exhaustion slowly drift away. The rage he felt hours prior was replaced with determination. 

Ryan silently promised Melanie he would do his very best to help solve her murder.

He took a turn to head back to the suburbs, eager to get home and get at least a few hours of sleep, when he noticed something that made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

A gray van with the license plate he had memorized the day prior was driving right in front of him, just a few meters away.

His heart pounded wildly against his ribcage and his mouth dried up. A feeble thought assaulted him, grateful for not having his reglementary weapon on him - he was ready to commit murder himself. He was sure Darla would forgive him. But it would not help Melanie, or the missing woman if he just went and killed whoever was in that van. 

Instead, Ryan stilled himself with a deep breath, and spoke loudly into his earpiece. 

“Siri, call ‘police dispatcher’”. 

A/N: I wish I could tell you that Canary's suffering ends here...

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[starboye]

imagine having ghost and soap as boyfriends, it's either you get to large but sweet guys who will kill whoever disrespects their lovie or you get to large guys that are trying to rip each others hair out after one eats the others ice cream

soap is always trying to fuck you no matter where you are and you have to get simon to pull him off you just for simon to take his place, cooing how no one will even notice and him and soap can just slip in really quick, you denied for a little but the moment he rubbed his bulge against your ass you were all for it

the was until price caught you three and scolded you but nonetheless you all ended up doing it again, some days after months of being away from you on a mission they come back one of two way; wanting to cuddle you all day and night until death or fuck you until you have their offspring

on this day it was the latter, they wasted no time in taking you to your guys' shared room and plowing you all night long, spurting out all there pent up cum into you until your belly was bulging with cum and putting a butt plug in you

but they couldn't possibly leave you like that so they always either go out and get you some food or try their best to make something at home (which usually ends up in the food being burnt and they go out and get you food) so you spend your night sweaty and barely feeling your legs but at least you have some ice cream and two hot boyfriends by your side

[beloveds-embrace]

(Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️)

Your marriage to Duke Price is one out of necessity: you need a husband before high society begins rumoring you to be a barren woman and too old to be married off, and Duke Price needs a wife who is able to take on Duchess duties of his duchies.

You do not expect love, though you suppose it’d be a nice bonus. You are merely glad that Duke Price is a reasonable handsome man, and he informs you on your wedding night that he will not force himself on you, and there is no need to immediately begin attemtping for an heir.

You take admirably to your new duties, have been raised practically for this purpose though the head butler Kyle is wonderful in helping you as well- actually all the servants have been wonderful towards you. You have regular dinners with John, though they are a bit stilted but at least Chef Johnny’s food is good enough you can easily forget the tense atmosphere. You can tell your husband is hiding something- you are sometimes barred from going to his office to him, certain rooms are not allowed for you, and you are not allowed anywhere near the letters addressed to him- but as long as it isn’t hurting you, why should you bother him? So you never ask, and he seems happy enough that you don’t.

Until you accidentally stumble upon him and Duke Riley exchanging tongues. Very heatedly, hands grasping and tugging on each other’s clothes and Duke Riley sat on your husband’s desk.

It’s hot.

What’s not so hot is the way they both look at you when they realize you are there. You stutter, face a red so fierce it’d put a furnace to shame, and bolt out of the room despite hearing John call your name.

And you also skip out on the dinners for now, pretending you are sick with the help of your maids and their makeup skills.

But suddenly, it’s like your eyes have been opened. It’s not just Duke Riley who seems to hold a part of your husband’s heart; the one time you gather enough courage to maybe go speak with John and address the situation, you see Kyle stumbling out all disheveled and flushed, though he has a very satisfied air around him. He freezes when he sees you, and your jaw drops.

“My lady-“

“I- I’ll just- I’m taking a walk! Alone!”

You go to the kitchens instead, hoping that Johnny would have something delicious you can eat. Maybe something cold enough to wash away the blush on your cheeks.

Johnny is weirdly silent, however, even as he whips up chocolate mousse for you. His silence is not normal, it feels… almost guilty…

You sighs, take in a deep breath, and gather your dress. “Johnny… are you too…-?”

“Aye, m��lady. But-“

You can’t take it anymore. You leave the kitchens, and go straight back to your bedroom to bury your face in your bed. It’s not as if you are upset! It’s just- a rather befuddling situation?

Two nights later, it’s John himself who comes to you. You had assumed it was one of your maids returning with a new jar of oil for your nightly hair routine, but it’s your husband. You are glad it’s winter, and you aren’t simply in a thin nightgown.

“Wife.” He says, voice steady yet strained.

“John.”

You can’t call him husband. You’ve spent the last two days thinking and you were… rather sad. You were in the way of whatever they had (you saw Kyle and Johnny kissing, Johnny specifically sending food addressed to Duke Riley), weren’t you?

John sighs, sitting down on the settee while you remain on your vanity. After a moment of awkward silence, he opens his eyes and looks at you. “…what do you want to remain silent about this?”

You blink, raising an eyebrow. “…huh?”

John’s fists clench. “How much do you want in return for your silence?”

Frowning, you set your brush down and fully turn to him even if you feel exposed despite your thicker nightgown. “Is this about your… partners?” You say the word delicately, then shake your head. “I want nothing, John. If you are worried about me starting anything, I won’t. I just… hope this doesn’t mean you will divorce me?”

Being a divorced woman might as well be a death sentence on its own.

He looks at you, shocked into silence, and you quickly explain; his relationships have nothing to do with you and you aren’t a petty woman, who are you to come between what he and they have? You only hope this won’t take away the protection this marriage gave you.

That night, thus, you and John reach an agreement you are sure both of you are satisfied with.

Except, months later, John is no longer satisfied.

With the ice broken between the two of you. The dinners have become so much more… relaxing and comfortable, far less than they had been. No secrecy was needed when you were around anymore, and you only giggle and look away, feigning innocence when they share tender kisses between one another… and the less polite kisses.

John can’t remain satisfied with this arrangement. You are such a sweet thing, now that he’s become to know you far better. He can see the way his men are looking at you now, something between fondness and hunger and want; Kyle helps you far more often now, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. Even when you do it yourself, he stays by you and ensures you are comfortable.

And he joins your evening walks, arms looped as the two of you speak, laughing and giggling.

It’s similar to your late night chats with Johnny, where he plies your full of sweets and desserts until even your dreams are full of sweeter kisses you are sure will never be for you. Johnny, who cooks your favorites on hard days and who you heard from Kyle is even more serious about only having the best of the best in vegetables and meats and seasonings.

And Duke Riley… for all his stoicism, he is gentle with you. Even when he’d stared at you with doubt and mistrust, no doubt believing you to be lying to John and simply waiting for the shoe to drop and for you to ruin them. Yet it never happens, and now, during the galas you attend all dolled up on John’s arm and ignoring all murmurs about still having no children, you even dance with him and giggle at his terribly dry jokes, even share a few of your own with him.

Steadily, slowly, obliviously, John has watched each of his men fall for you. This, obviously, made you theirs. It made you his, more and more than you already were.

It’s why your current request is making him clench his glass in his hand, with Kyle looking on in displeasure as well, giving him subtle glances.

“-So that’s why I was asking, John,” you remain sweetly oblivious, adorned in a pretty dress Simon had gotten for you recently. “He will not spread any rumors, I’ll personally make sure of that-”

Your cheeks darken then, and you glance away. “I- I am… merely a bit- unsatisfied, if you understand my point. And the stable man is loyal to you, he wouldn’t say anything.”

It’s clear he needs to keep a better watch over you. Where and when did you even interact with his stable boy, Graves? Though he focused on your words.

Unsatisfied.

Well, he can’t have that, can he? You’ve done your wifely duties so admirably, it’s about time he took care of you as well… and maybe dealt with the baseless barren rumors as well. A baby would keep you nice and content and focused on them alone, wouldn’t it?

Oh yes. Yes, it would.

dukedom au masterlist

Part two

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Soap putting you in a headlock when fucking you into the mattress, his chest against your back as his hips snap against the fat of your ass. You're clawing against his forearm which only makes him chuckle and comment about how feisty you are while he hits so deep inside you that you damn near scream.

Biting down hard enough to leave indents on his bicep and not letting go until he uses his other hand to wrench your head away by your hair with a snarl. Snapping your jaw at him while he stares down with feral blue eyes, "Ye wannae play rough?"