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#but soap doesnt
s0fter-sin · 14 days
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thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage
you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out
"i'm calling shepherd"
his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books; to go up the chain and sort it out democratically. that goes against everything we've seen him do; he’s quick to drop his enemies and bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns
he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer
there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends
nothing's happened yet
it doesn't have to go this way
but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy
he doesn't hesitate
it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from
only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat
and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for
"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"
he's learned the price of trust
just like ghost did
but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath
"good advice, It"
#i might crown myself the ceo of soap meta at this point i love digging into this boy#but it seriously fucks me up how much he tries to de escalate the situation#invoking shepherd like hes trying to remind graves of who funds him and the power he holds#the consequences he’ll face if he goes through with this. just stop and think it through first#only to be stricken silent when graves drops ‘general shepherd sends his regards’#he doesnt say a single word after that#ghosts the one who picks up the lead for him ‘he knows about this?’#he can still function through his shock and the gut wrenching betrayal bc he’s been through this before#and he knows freezing will get him killed#but soap doesnt#he freezes#getting shot is something he wouldve been through before but being shot by an ally?#at that moment he isnt sergeant mactavish#hes johnny and hes in shock#and thats why ghost yelling for johnny doesnt reach him#he only breaks through when he calls him soap. when hes forced back into a soldiers mindset#thats all thats keeping him going. he isnt johnny a man whos been betrayed by a friend#hes a soldier following direct orders to keep himself alive#i can only imagine the after#when he lets his rage run out and is faced with the vulnerable and painful betrayal#but ghosts there to help him through that too. there for johnny the way he wished someone had been there for him#coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt#cod mw2#john soap mactavish#soap cod#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#soapghost
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bluegiragi · 7 months
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chasing tail.
early access + nsfw on patreon
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wispscribbles · 8 months
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Ghost who's gone prematurely grey due to his lovely past (and Soap who doesn't mind)
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hopefulonion · 4 months
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Whatever Johnny says is LT approved 🫡❤️
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temeyes · 6 months
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no sense of direction
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gomzdrawfr · 4 months
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small habits
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ghcstao3 · 2 months
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ghost almost always has at least one knife hidden on him for ‘just in case’ purposes, and while soap has found it actually proves pretty useful—not even just for combat, but also stupid, minor things like cutting stubborn loose threads off clothing—it becomes a small pain when soap has to wait for ghost to shed himself of various knives before climbing into bed every night. just when soap thinks there couldn’t possibly be another one on ghost’s person, there most certainly is, and half the time before ghost finally lays down soap is already falling asleep
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bunnyreaper · 7 months
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𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥
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Lonely girl looking for owner. 
Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 
At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.
Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 
You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 
From: squeakycleanscot 
Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl
Hi,
Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.
I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.
When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 
I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)
Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 
Hope to hear from you soon, 
Johnny.
Johnny. 
You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 
Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 
You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.
hi johnny, 
scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 
it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 
cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 
i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3 
if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 
have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 
y/n
As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 
You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 
Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.
Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 
I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 
I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 
Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol
Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 
His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 
You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 
Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 
looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?
i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 
barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)
same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 
Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 
Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 
It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 
Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 
When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 
Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 
You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 
It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.
You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.
Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.
holyfwucj 
holy fuck 
Like what you see? 
i need a hug from you urgently. 
now i feel shy... 
It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 
Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 
Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 
You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 
Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 
I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 
okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 
Holy fuck yourself.
And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 
If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.
sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 
Can you do me a favour? 
That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 
depends on what it is!
Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 
does that mean you're coming for me?
One day, if we're both lucky.
seems promising so far, Johnny. 
Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 
The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 
how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 
Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 
You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.
It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 
okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 
Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 
now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 
Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?
cuddling up to barnaby now. 
You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 
talk tomorrow?
Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3 
You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 
For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 
He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.
-//-
Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 
The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.
Good morning, sweet girl.
Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 
He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 
morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 
Like a baby. Yourself? 
not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 
Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 
I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 
You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.
My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 
i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 
Promise? 
promise. 
God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 
You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 
You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 
It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.
With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.
What's your plan for the day? 
lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 
I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 
On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 
You rush to follow up your message with something else. 
will you still be able to call tonight? 
Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 
You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  
The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.
Cute profile pic on whatsapp.
Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.
it was Halloween, I swear!! 
You make an adorable little kitten, lass.
imagination running wild now? ;) 
Aye, but I'm a gent. 
hopefully not always...
Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 
talk to you then &lt;;3 
Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 
What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 
The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.
Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 
You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 
It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 
You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.
i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 
Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.
i can tell &lt;3
Ready to call? 
whenever you're ready!
The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 
"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 
"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 
A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 
You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 
He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 
Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 
"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 
You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 
"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 
"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 
"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 
"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 
"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 
"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 
A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 
"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.
"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 
The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 
"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 
"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."
If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 
He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."
"Now I'm pouting." 
"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 
"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 
"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 
You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 
"No?" 
"Nope." 
"Might not be gentle with you, though." 
"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.
"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 
"You have no idea..." 
He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 
"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 
He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 
"You're already making good progress." You admit.
"Oh aye?" 
You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 
"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 
"Already spoiling me, too." 
Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.
"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 
You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 
"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 
While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 
"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 
In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 
"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 
If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 
There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 
"Hard to come by, I've found." 
The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 
You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 
"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 
"That's... horrible." 
Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.
"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 
"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  
"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 
"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 
At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 
You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 
"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 
"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 
"So do I, alarms set for 4." 
You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.
"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 
"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 
You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 
"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 
You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"
"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 
"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 
"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 
Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."
"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 
"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 
"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 
"Oh yeah?" 
He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 
"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.
"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 
"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 
"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.
"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 
"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  
You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 
"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 
"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 
"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 
"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 
"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 
You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 
"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 
"Mhmm." 
"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.
When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 
You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 
"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 
"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."
Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.
"You like the military get up?" 
"Love it, more than I probably should." 
"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 
"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 
"Sergeant." 
"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 
"Mactavish."
Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.
"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 
"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 
"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 
The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.
"What else do you like to be called?" 
"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 
"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 
"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 
"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.
"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 
"My pouting lips are ready." 
"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."
Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 
Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 
The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.
The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.
As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 
"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.
"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 
"Me either, but av got bad news." 
You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 
"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 
"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 
"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 
"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.
"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."
Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"
"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 
"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 
Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 
You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 
"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  
Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 
"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 
And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.
"Yeah?" 
You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 
His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 
"5 whole days."
"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 
You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 
Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 
"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 
"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  
You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 
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cod-dump · 1 year
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Soap: I’m about to tell you something but you have to promise not to freak out
Ghost: Why would I freak out?
Soap: Just promise!
Ghost: Fine! I promise not to freak out
Soap: Okay… Ghost… I love you
Ghost: *immediately starts screaming*
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s0fter-sin · 3 months
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“simon riley’s dead,” ghost chokes out; bitter resentment coating his tongue. “i’m just wearin’ ‘is corpse.”
mactavish doesn’t shy from his venom; sees through his hiss and doesn’t fear his rotten-fanged bite. he reaches out, pressing the flat of his hand to his breast and ghost damns himself for the way his breath catches; for the way his shoulders curl in around it in a silent plea for it to stay.
“that’s no drum in your chest,” he whispers defiantly.
his hand slowly drags over his chest, coming to rest over his sternum and he feels its possession like a brand against his skin.
“it ain’t bellows inflating your lungs,” he dares and he involuntarily inhales; his body longing to rise to his challenge.
mactavish pushes and he rocks back on his heels just to sway in closer; just to beg for the pressure to chase the phantom weight of six feet of dirt from his bones.
“you’re far from rigor mortis, riley,” he promises and there’s air at ghost’s back instead of decaying wood and infested flesh. “i won’t let the earth take you from me yet.”
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bluegiragi · 1 year
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monster au intros - team 141 feat. Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz!
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lunarw0rks · 9 days
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new fav trope is that ghoap comes in a package deal
you can't date just one of them. surprise! you're fucking them both!
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leathfaic · 1 month
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I've been sitting on a headcanon for over a year now because I know that once I put it out I will want to expand on it.
But fuck it what is one more writing project?
I want Ghost to be fucking paranoid about Laswell finding out about him and Johnny. Not even because she would necessarily tear them apart but because she would absolutely use it. To her advantage and thus potentially against them.
Send them out on a dangerous undercover op for months under the guise of having left so they could be together. Infiltrating some dubious PMC perhaps that doesn't quite care, they're getting the Ghost and his Sergeant after all, if they just look the other way. What a fucking deal and how dumb the government is to let those 2 become mercenaries just because they like to fuck each other. One wrong step one wrong word and they might both end up dead.
But far more than physical harm just the threat of keeping them apart if they don't comply. Days that easily spin into weeks and months that they just keep missing each other, mission beginning before the other gets back from his current one. Until Laswell pointedly asking if they are going to behave this time is "graciously" giving them another chance to work together.
Because really, there's nothing they can do, right? They could be dishonourably discharged for fraternisation and instead Laswell is "only" using it to twist their arms.
Price, even if he knows can't really help them either because again, any kind of ruckus about this and it could end so much worse.
Soap probably has a little more faith in Laswells morals, although I'm sure the more they work together the more that quickly fades and he understands Ghost's caution. That woman got to where she is in life for a reason.
So they are still close with each other when she's around. Would be weird if they stopped all of a sudden, bound to draw her attention too. But always minding a careful line. Keeping it to the "brothers in arms". Never giving away too much. And sometimes that stings even more. When Ghost sees Johnny's need for physical contact and can't do more than give him a manly pat on the shoulder. Torn apart by the need to hold him.
When Soap notices that Ghost isn't sleeping on an op, knowing he should be there and talk him through the night until the bad dreams fade and Ghost gets at least a few hours of shut-eye. Nothing he can offer but empty phrases and a dumb comment about Ghost clearly needing to get laid.
They both know of course. What they really mean. It's still grating.
Better than it could be if she knew though. Worth to keep what they have safe.
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temeyes · 2 months
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i don’t have the heart to tell him i miss the other Bois,,, [p1 | p2 | p3]
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reds-skull · 3 months
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Concept art for the new AU I've been working on... I'm really liking the vibes it's giving me
top one is a metaphor taken literally (and just me being edgy in general cause why not)
second and third are the Ghost version of this painting I made of Soap a while back
Forth is something I made like a month ago and didn't want to post by itself. It's from the same AU, but uhh not exactly...
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cthulhusstepmom · 10 months
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Evidence that Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish is not what he seems-Lt. SR:
Soap smells like rain, it took a while to put it together because it's not Soap himself that emits the odor, it just follows him. It's less potent inside and when it's sunny outdoors but if you concentrate it's always there.
He has never been observed touching a gun or grenades without gloves. Almost every other explosive he handles with no regard for his own safety gloves.
HE EATS WEIRD SHIT. While he doesn't eat much of the food on offer from the cafe, he does eat consistently when outdoors, usually plants or flowers. Things he has eaten: dandelions(edible), garlic(edible), thistle(edible but he ate it with the thorns), foxglove(toxic, showed no adverse reaction), Several unidentified flowers and berries, grass(technically edible?) Etc.
Will sometimes refuse to enter a place before abruptly going in. The data is not consistent between different buildings or locations. Further research is required.
Sharp teeth.
Groups things in nonsensical ways. He will only fill a magazine with bullets that total a multiple of 7 or 3. The same for what weights he uses in the gym. When drawing or eating he sorts by 4s. He traded his room to get #13 (right next door, coincidence?).
Cameras will not focus on him, whether photo or video he is never in focus regardless of distance or conditions.
He has never once been in medical for more than half an hour, usually much less. Even though his hands have light burns on them almost constantly.
Dogs hate him. He seems ambivalent towards them and he's never been bit that Ive seen. Cats adore him as do birds.
John MacTavish does not blush. Not for lack of trying even when genuinely flustered or hot, his skin does not flush.
Ghost sets down the small notebook with a minute sound of frustration. The evidence is all there but looking at it, what does it really say? Other than that he's an obsessive creep. A series of quirks and coincidences compiled by a paranoid son of a bitch into a fucking stalker journal. But still, Simon can't help but feel like he's right and he'd be dead a million times over if he simply disregarded his intuition. Even if it is something batshit insane.
At this point however it seems that it'll drive him mad far before it yields any answers. After scouring what little resources were comprehensible on the internet he'd started growing out his hair, intent on tying it in knots to prevent charms. Leaving him with a problem he'd not encountered since he'd first donned the mask: unruly curls and balaclavas don't mix well at all. He'd also kept a piece of stale bread in his pocket for days as he'd read it was a repellent to- and he can't even believe he's considering it-fairies. It backfired, if anything Johnny had been more attached to him and even more touchy than usual. He'd left a small deli cup full of coffee creamer outside his door overnight and found it neatly placed upside down where he'd left it with not a drop left. Ghost chalked that up to some wise guy playing a joke or an exceptionally dextrous cat and firmly shut the door on any other possibilities in his mind. His next test had been a gift of clothing mixed with complements, he'd read that both were likely to drive away any Other. It hadn't been a very extravagant gift, a new pair of gloves and a gruff "well done Johnny" but at the time it had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin as Soap had gone white as a sheet(he can do that but he can't blush???) and scurried off. A quiet dread had filled his stomach the whole day until Soap turned up at dinner, a little quieter than usual but wearing his new gloves and eating more than usual(a scoop and a half of mashed potatoes with 4 packets of butter and 2 packets of sour cream as well as a cookie. The main course of spaghetti and meatballs went untouched though Gaz snapped it up before it could truly go to waste). Though when Ghost returned to his room late that night after trudging through hours of paperwork he found a pile of tiny, aromatic, pink flowers on the floor in front of his door and on top of them a shiny metal comb. Simon's tired brain hardly stopped to think of any of the dire warnings he'd found on forum posts and folklore sites alike, crouching and tenderly retrieving the piece from its bed of flora, careful not to crush any of the tiny blooms. Well... With all the knots in his hair-purposeful and otherwise-he's going to need a sturdy comb anyway.
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