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ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

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Hello, I hope you are well. 141 men+Konig and Roach.Alex. How do they react when they accidentally see female reader in the city for the first time? And just like that. The reader is shopping at a grocery store. And men do not know her. because they never saw the reader's face. but the reader recognizes them because she has seen their faces before and the reader says. What's up? (name) I'll send you a photo of the reader's gaze. so the reader works on the same team as them but right now it's a free day

Have a nice day :)

Hey there! I really like this request <3

TF141 + König + Roach + Alex Reacting to Seeing the Reader's Face (in public)

warnings: cursing, other than that, none. they think you're pretty 😍

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Simon happened to be shopping in your town. No, he didn't do it on purpose. It was just on his way home.

You were shopping as well. You lived in a big city, so it wasn't unusual for you to be unmasked when doing your business. No one here knew you. You were on the pet food aisle, glancing over the ingredients of a specific brand until you suddenly felt a familiar presence walking by along the outside of the aisle. You look to your side and... spot Ghost.

Why was he here? Not like, why was he shopping, but why would he come to your city? It was too many people for his liking.

You watch him walk by, he doesn't give you a second glance as he goes about his business.

You set the bag of food down as you abandon your cart, walking fast to catch up to him. "Ghost!"

He heard a familiar voice call behind him, but as he turned around, he didn't know who he was looking at and how they knew his callsign. "What's up?" you asked, tilting your head at him. He stopped in his tracks, looking you up and down. "Bloody hell are you?"

You nervously laughed. "Y/N...?"

He was in disbelief. Wow, you were quite beautiful. He didn't think you'd be ugly, but my goodness, he was swept off his feet. "Fuckin' hell, kid," he rasped, chuckling nervously, you could tell.

"Sorry, I forgot you've never seen my face."

"Forgot to warn me you were quite stunning, too, darlin'."

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

He heard about this big grocery store from a friend, deciding to check it out. It was also the one you were at, trying to find some new clothes.

In your own little world, you weren't paying attention to the fact you were absent-mindedly taking over the aisle as you were folding a shirt back up.

"Excuse me," a voice called from behind you.

"Sorry," you muttered, moving out of the way. The man gave you a polite smile, and as you made eye contact, your pupils dilated, recognizing your teammate, Soap. "What's up?" you asked.

"Oh, jus' shoppin', nothin' much." You looked into his cart, curious. Some beer, socks, small food items. Also hygiene products. He watched you nose into what he's buying, wondering who the hell this random (pretty) lady is.

You stifle a laugh, looking at the soap in his cart. "Soap." He shook his head, softly chuckling. "Wha's so funny about that?"

You teased him. "Soap! For Soap... Come on, do you not get it?"

For a minute, he recognized the voice but couldn't put two and two together. Wondered if you were who he thought you were.

After awkward staring, you throw your arms up playfully. "Soap! You must not... recognize me...?" "Y/N...?" you continued.

He just figured it out, the way you emphasized his name. "Y/N... Shite, yer... beautiful," he muttered. "Didn't think I'd ever see your face, lass."

Captain 'John' Price

He was just leaving, checking out with his cart full of his selected items. Damn this long line, he'd be here a while.

You were walking in with an empty cart, eyes glued to the front of you. Wanting to get in, and get out. You take notice of the long line. Sighing in annoyance, you go about your business.

You make your way up to the front, expecting the line to have made progress. Nope, still long. Some person had 3 full carts, and was giving one of the cashiers a hard time. Not to mention it was one of the rush hours of business. You look around to see a bunch of grumpy, tired faces. It was all just regular people, until you saw your captain. You smiled, hesitant to say hi to him, not wanting to be a bother.

"Hey, Captain Price!" you sang. He fixed his gaze onto you precisely, questionably. "What's up?"

He met you halfway in between the queues. "How in the bloody hell do you know who I am?" his voice was low.

"Because... I'm in the task force, silly," you laughed. "Y/N."

"Oh," he said plainly, his body visibly relieved. "Well, kid. Near freaked me out, some pretty lady knowin' my rank."

"Sorry," you blushed. "I'll leave you be, then? See you at work."

"Nice to see ya, y/n," his bright blue eyes beamed as they crinkled from his wide smile.

You were nearly finished up shopping, when you walked next to Gaz.

You didn't notice him at first, but when you did, he smiled at you with a polite nod as if you were a stranger.

You smiled back. "What's up, Garrick?"

He squinted his eyes at you, wondering how he knew you.

"I'm sorry, remind me of who you are?"

"Y/N, silly," you quipped.

"Oh," he sighed, looking over the features of your face. "Nice seein' you without the mask."

You almost blush, reaching up to soothe your unmasked face. "Thanks. Definitely didn't expect to see you... here."

"It was just on my way."

"Yeah, well, I hope you're enjoying your time off," you smiled.

"You, too, y/n," he smiled back, walking off but making sure to get one last look at you before you walked off, memorizing your face.

König

It's been such a long day already, and here you were stuck at a busy grocery store in your city. You usually stopped by here every so often, but didn't think the store would be busy when you came here today.

You were pretty much just looking at useless stuff at this point, to pass time by as the queues were not moving. You sigh as you grew tired of looking at this nonsense. Seeing some queues move, you finally hopped in one. You were in a hurry, and that was obvious, but so was someone else.

You almost bumped carts with this man, and before you go to apologize, you hear his thick German accent being the first one to apologize profusely. "I... am so sorry! You go ahead, ma'am," he muttered.

"König! I am so sorry!" you giggled. "I was in a hurry, I didn't see you there! What's up?" He stuttered, hands nearly shaking at you knowing his name. "I... was just shopping here."

"Are... you okay?"

"Ja... yes, I just... sorry, I don't think I know you..."

"Y/N! I don't have my mask on..." you rubbed your cheek. "Sorry to confuse you."

He was taken aback by how beautiful you were. He was already an anxious man, finally being able to put a voice to a very pretty face felt quite nice, but finding out just how gorgeous you were was making his heart slam against his ribcage.

"I-sorry," you could hear his nervousness, it was admittedly very cute. "You are very pretty, Maus."

Roach

You had gone to the store to get some alcohol, it was one of your days off and you wanted to enjoy yourself.

You went to the aisle, and started browsing.

You grabbed a few bottles of wine, and an extra bottle of liquor for another day and started walking out of the aisle to leave.

Until someone came around the corner.

You smiled as you spotted your teammate, Roach.

"Roach! Hey, what's up?"

He made eye contact with you, and you could tell he was confused.

"Sorry, do I know you?"

"It's Y/N! Sorry, don't have my mask on," you apologized, blushing.

"Oh. I was wondering how some beautiful woman knew me," he laughed. "It's nice to see you."

"Thanks, Roach," you smirked. You bid your goodbyes as you walked off, not seeing him look back at you once more.

You were stumped on a product, deciding if you should buy it. You started looking around for products that seemed popular, and went with the correct brand.

You were on your way to the front, when you spotted someone you knew. Alex. He was either in a hurry, or just wanted to get to where he was going, but you followed him.

You about lost him, but finally caught up.

"Alex! Hey!"

He looked around at a few people before he looked at you.

"What's up?" you smiled at him.

He stammered his words. "Hi. Who're you? How do I know you?"

You laughed as you playfully rolled your eyes. "Y/N."

"Damn, nice to see your face, lil lady," he chuckled, eyes wide at your beauty.

"Aw, thanks," you replied. "Enjoying your time off?"

"You know it." You both did some small talk before you had to make your way out. You waved goodbye at him, and he returned it with a polite smile, watching you as you walked away.

"Damn, she's beautiful," he whispered under his breath.

A/N - Hope this was good! I've never written for Roach or Alex, so I don't know if I wrote them out well, but thank you for this request and sorry it took a while to get finished! <3

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ragingbookdragon · 3 months

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“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.”

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hiding-in-my-blanket-fort · 5 months

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Following Orders

(Soap x domme civvy F!Reader)

When the conversation between you and your best friend, Johnny, takes a turn into heated territory, he can't hide his physical reaction. You decide to help him out and offer a little relief, as long as he follows orders.

Minors DNI. 18+ only.

Word count: 3.4k

Content warnings: JOI, friends to lovers, dry humping, discussions of sex, protected PiV

Or read on Ao3

"Don't even think about it," you said, slashing at the air with your chopsticks.

With your back against your couch, seated on the floor, you were closer to the array of food spread across the coffee table of your apartment. But your position came at a cost.

Johnny huffed a laugh at your empty threat. Since he was on the couch behind you, he easily reached over your shoulder, snatching a piece of food from your takeout container.

"Asshole," you muttered.

"Admit it, hen. You love me."

You narrowed your eyes and pointed your chopsticks at him.

"Pushing your luck, buddy."

He chuckled and swapped his takeout container for a different one. After shoving a bite of food into his mouth that was too big, he spoke around it.

“Speaking of which, when are you finally gonna bring ‘round that boyfriend of yours? Need to give him a talk, you know. Man to man.”

You rolled your eyes. “I told you, Johnny. There is no boyfriend. And even if there was one, I’m not introducing him just so you can scare him off.”

Johnny spread his hands. “I wouldn’t scare him off!”

You shot him a fond look of annoyance.

“That’s what you did with the last one.”

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.

“It’s not my fault the little shite pissed his pants over a friendly discussion involving C4.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing because you knew that would only egg him on even more. The corner of Johnny’s mouth quirked up because he saw right through you anyway.

“I could set you up,” he offered.

“Not in a million years.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Chicken.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Sticks and stones, Johnny.”

He snorted and offered his takeout toward you, giving it a shake.

“Trade.”

You swapped containers. When you started digging into it, you sighed.

“I think I’m just too damn difficult to please.”

“Obviously,” Johnny replied dryly. “I figured that out a long time ago.”

You grabbed a pillow and chucked it at his head. He laughed and caught it smoothly without spilling his food. Then he set it on the couch beside him.

“Easy with the friendly fire. No need to get violent.”

“Says Mr. Sexy Soldier who has no problem taking someone home. You get along with everyone.”

“Come on now, that’s not true,” Johnny protested, his tone turning serious. “I’ve had my moments. What’s the hang up, anyway? Are these guys you’re dating not…reciprocatin’?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, deliberating on just how much to divulge. While you and Johnny weren’t shy about conversations regarding sex, you didn’t want him to tease you about your most intimate desires either.

“No, it’s just…” You trailed off and dropped your gaze. “I have certain preferences. They don’t always align with what most guys consider to be standard sex.”

There was a pause. Johnny nodded.

Then…

“You’re into feet, aren’t you?”

You lobbed another pillow at him.

“No! God, you’re such a fucking child.”

He batted it aside, laughing.

“You were bein’ vague! What was I supposed to think?”

“Not that!”

Johnny raised his eyebrows and rolled his wrist in a go on gesture.

“Details, bonnie. I need details.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“When did you get to be so god awful bashful?”

You made a noise of distress, wishing you hadn’t brought up this topic of conversation. Using your elbow on the couch cushion, you leveraged yourself up and moved to the armchair - as far away from Johnny as you could get. You pulled your feet up to your chest and poked at your food.

“It’s just - I like to be in charge, okay?"

A beat of silence settled over the room. Johnny tilted his head as he considered this piece of information.

“That tracks,” he said at last. “You’ve always been mean to me. That’s how I knew you liked me.”

“I have not,” you countered, indignant.

He held up his forefinger and thumb with a squint to indicate a little bit.

“It isn’t about being mean,” I insisted. “I’m not interested in being submissive, that’s all. It makes me feel…”

You trailed off, suddenly realizing just how much you’d said. Johnny didn’t appear to be judging you though. And he wasn’t cracking any jokes at your expense either. In fact, he was suspiciously quiet and attentive.

“Makes you feel…what?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Powerless. But when I have a man handcuffed to the bed, hanging on every word out of my mouth, it’s…it’s intoxicating. It’s the greatest feeling in the world. I love watching how eager he is, quick to follow orders, hungry to obey. I love seeing how hard and desperate he gets, especially when he can’t do a damn thing about it until I decide to have mercy on him and give him the release he craves. That’s what I’m looking for. But the guys I’ve dated…they’re not into it at all.”

When you finished, Johnny had this glazed expression in his eyes. He cleared his throat, blinking a few times. Then he tugged the pillow beside him over his lap.

“That’s–uh–that’s good. Sounds like you know what you want, hen.”

His voice seemed…off. Too rough and scratchy.

“Did I say something wrong?” you asked.

Johnny shook his head vigorously. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Nope. Not at all.”

As a brief silence settled over the room, Johnny shifted on the couch. You could have sworn the muscles in his biceps flexed a little more than necessary, straining at his T-shirt sleeve when he pressed his elbow into the pillow on his lap.

That’s when it clicked in your brain. And a giddy little thrill zipped up your spine.

“Johnny.”

He raised his eyebrows, overly focused at prodding into his takeout container, even though he hadn’t eaten a bite in several seconds.

“Yeah?”

“What’s with the pillow?” you asked.

He glanced up. “What about it?”

“Why is it on your lap?”

He shrugged. “No–no reason. It’s just…there.”

Oh, you were like a missile locked onto your target now.

“Did I…fluster you?” you asked, lowering your voice.

Johnny growled. “Damn it, woman. Can’t you see when a man is fighting for his life out here?”

You laughed and eagerly pushed your food aside, fixing all your attention on him.

“I can’t believe this. Did you really just pop a boner because of what I was talking about?”

He tipped his head back with a groan.

“Fine! Fine, god, yes. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now? You devilish little minx. Fuckin’ hell.”

You were smiling so big that your cheeks hurt. You adjusted in your seat until you were kneeling on your chair, elbows propped on the armrest, studying the delicious strain in Johnny’s posture as he grappled for control.

“Johnny MacTavish,” you said. “I had no idea you would be into that.”

“Yeah, well…I guess I am. It’s hot, okay?”

You smirked.

“Stop smiling,” he said with a strangled laugh.

You snickered and pushed out of your seat, taking a position on the opposite end of the couch from Johnny.

“So, you like to be bossed around, huh?”

“Jesus,” he muttered, pressing himself deeper into the couch.

When he pushed his knees wider, the pillow bucked upward. You tried–and failed miserably–to not think about the thrust of his hips. Why did that make the back of your neck prickle and your stomach get all tangled up in knots?

You bit your lower lip, debating whether you should continue or pull back. Even though you and Johnny were never shy about your conversations, this was clearly flirting with a sexual line that could muddy the waters between you.

Johnny’s gaze flicked to you, uncertain.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Like what?”

“Like I’m fresh meat and you’re a hungry wolf.”

You grinned. “Do you want me to change the subject?”

Johnny hedged. That was all the answer you needed.

“I could help with your…little problem,” you added.

He blew out a shaky breath and turned his head away, his voice pitched so low that you almost missed it.

“You know damn well it’s not little, hen.”

Bracing an arm across the back of the couch, you leaned closer. Then you reached out and pinched a corner of the pillow between two fingers with a playful tug.

“Let me see,” you said softly.

Johnny clutched the pillow with a white-knuckled grip.

“No way.”

“Pretty please?” you teased.

Johnny didn’t budge, didn’t breathe a word. For once, he was uncharacteristically silent. You sidled closer and brushed a butterfly kiss to his cheek.

Slowly, Johnny turned to look at you. As soon as you met his gaze, your breath hitched in your chest. His ice-blue eyes were nearly completely black with arousal. In the back of your mind, you thought, we can’t do this. What if it ruins our friendship?

Then Johnny moved his hand away from the pillow without breaking eye contact.

You pulled it aside.

For a split second, you held Johnny’s gaze. Then you glanced down at his lap.

His jeans were stretched tight, the prominent ridge of his bulge showing just how much your words had affected him. Propping your elbow on the back of the couch, you rested your hand on your fist.

“Is this…too weird?”

Johnny adjusted in his seat, tugging at the front of his jeans.

“To be honest, bonnie, I don’t really give a shit right now. Do you…do you want to stop?”

You shook your head. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth.

“Good.”

A shiver of anticipation rose in your chest and you traced a fingertip down Johnny’s bicep.

“Unzip for me.”

Holding your gaze, Johnny’s shoulders and forearms flexed as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. The tip of his cock was barely visible, protruding from the waistband of his jeans. But when he started to pull it out, you clucked your tongue.

“Hold up. Did I tell you to touch yourself?”

Johnny bit back a groan. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he splayed his palms across his thighs. The tendons in his neck strained from fighting to sit still. Judging by the throb between your thighs and the jittery feeling in your stomach, you were just as eager as Johnny to plow ahead and get things moving. But you liked making him work for it, too.

“I should have known,” you said. “That you’d be so good at following orders, soldier boy.”

Johnny let out a breathless laugh.

“See? Like I said. You’re mean to me.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started yet.” You tilted your chin in the direction of his lap. “Push your pants down a little more. Show off the goods.”

Johnny arched his hips up, shoving his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh. His cock curved up toward his stomach, thick, straining, and beautiful. The blunt head glistened with pre-cum. All you wanted to do was reach out and claim it for yourself. He clutched the couch cushions on either side of him, fists tight, biceps straining.

You couldn’t help yourself and hovered your hand over his lap, your fingers so close to touching his cock that you could feel the heat radiating off him. Then you brought your mouth to his ear.

“Let’s see how strong your stroke game is, yeah?”

Johnny’s breath shuddered and you didn’t miss the way his abs flexed beneath his shirt. When he thrust up toward your hand, you pulled away at the last second. He sagged against the mattress with a noise of frustration that broke off into a laugh.

“Oh, you little shite,” he said.

“Come on. Try again. I know for a fact you’re too stubborn to give up that easily, Johnny. Keep going.”

His palm strayed over your thigh as he thrust up again, straining for that painfully slight friction your fingers would offer. You didn’t reprimand him for the touch to your leg. The way his palm settled there seemed like a comforting gesture, for both of you, so you let him get away with it just this once.

You watched Johnny struggle, falling short of coming in contact with your fingers every time no matter how much he arched upward. Head tilted back, lower lip clamped between his teeth. The way he pushed his hips back into the couch then up toward your hand was mesmerizing to witness, putting every gorgeous muscle in his body on powerful display.

“Fuck, bonnie, you’re killing me,” he said through his teeth.

You gave a pleased hum.

“You’re doing very well.”

He blew out a breath of frustration. A thin sheen of sweat was already beginning to form on his collarbones, pooling in the hollow of his throat. Your mouth watered at the thought of dragging your tongue over it, tasting the saltiness of him.

“Go on then,” you said. “Since you were so good for me, you can touch yourself.”

You sat back as Johnny frantically wrapped a hand around his cock with a breathless oh thank god.

You granted him two long, desperate strokes before you swatted his wrist. His skin was scorching beneath your touch.

“I didn’t say you could finish yourself off, big boy.”

“Fuck,” Johnny rasped, stilling his motion.

“That’s better. Bring your hand up over the head of your crown. You’re sensitive there, aren’t you?”

Johnny practically whimpered, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line as he obeyed.

“Keep circling with your thumb for a bit,” you said. “And do it slowly. I want to watch.”

He passed the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock in steady circles. You loved the way his cock jumped in his hand. When you lifted your gaze, you found Johnny looking at you with hooded eyes, his lips slightly parted. With his head tipped back against the couch, it fully exposed his neck, and it struck you how open and loose and vulnerable his position was.

He was putty in your hands even though the only touch you’d initiated was the slightest brush of your fingertip against his bicep a few minutes ago. You smiled sweetly and swept your knuckles along his cheek.

“If I had known you were so willing to please me,” you said. “We could have done this sooner.”

Johnny huffed. “You were too distracted with those damn sods who were no good for you.”

“Are you saying you like it when I’m mean to you?”

“I’ve got my fucking cock in my hand, hard as a rock. Do you really need me to spell it out for you more than that, love?”

You laughed softly with a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck your fist for me, Johnny,” you whispered against his skin. “But don’t come. I want to see how long you can hold out.”

He gave a deep groan. The slick sound of his fist around his cock echoed in the room, sloppy and hurried. His palm left your leg for a moment, and before you could register the loss, he cupped his hand beneath your chin, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

You gasped at the electric shock of his mouth against yours, the wet heat of his tongue sliding past your lips. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, when your senses were full of Johnny.

For a brief moment, you pulled back just long enough to watch him pumping along his length. His arm flexed with the movement, but his hand was still beneath your chin. After a second or two, Johnny slid his hand into your hair, cradling the back of your neck.

You needed him, ached for him, and you had no idea how that happened. When had you changed from thinking of him as a friend to…this?

Before you realized what you were doing, you pushed Johnny’s fist away from his cock. Then you hitched your leg over his lap, your hands braced on the couch behind his head. Johnny’s palms came to rest on your hips, partly to guide you, but mostly to anchor himself. The weight of his cock bumped against your clothed pussy as you started grinding down on him.

“Fuck, you’re desperate, aren’t you, love?” he murmured. “You just needed a free cock to use and no one would give you what you needed.”

“But you’ll do that for me, won’t you, Johnny?” you said between one kiss and the next, breathing hard. “You’ll let me use your cock any time I want to, right?”

He nodded as he cupped his hands on either side of your face, pressing your mouth open for another soul-scorching kiss. Even through your clothes, you felt his cock throb and pulse, pressed up against your core.

You were both lost to the heat of the moment now, moving together, grasping, kissing, grinding. With his hands full of your ass, he rocked you back and forth on the ridge of his cock. When he mouthed at your clothed breasts, you yanked your shirt off with impatience, tossing it aside. A moment later, your bra followed.

You were surprised at how good and natural it felt. This was your best friend in the entire world and it could have been awkward but it wasn’t. As Johnny dragged the flat of his tongue over your nipple, pinching it between his teeth with a slight jolt of sweet pain, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back.

As you tugged at his hair, you realized just how wet and sticky your pants were getting. Gripping a fistful of fabric, you pulled his T-shirt over his head.

“Inside me,” you said, practically a croak because your voice was so raw with need. “Johnny, now.”

Johnny spread you out on the couch, cradling the back of your head in his hand to protect you in case you came in contact with the armrest. As he pulled away, he trailed his hands down your body, mapping every curve and swell as he went. When he reached your jeans, he flicked his gaze to yours in a silent request for permission.

Your lips quirked up. “Use your words, sweetie.”

He breathed a faint laugh and his cock twitched, thick and heavy between his legs.

“May I take your pants off, hen?”

You’d barely nodded when Johnny gave a playful growl and sucked a bruising kiss into your hip. He unbuttoned your jeans and stripped them off eagerly, leaving you in just your panties. He paused as he took in the sight of you there, waiting for him. He trailed his hands up your calves and thighs, teasing his thumbs at the edge of your panties.

“May I?” he asked again, his voice significantly gruffer this time.

Again, you nodded. Slowly, he hooked his thumbs into your panties and dragged them down, fully exposing you. Never in a million years would you have thought that inviting Johnny MacTavish over for your usual takeout to chat and catch up would lead to this - fucking on the couch.

“Condom,” you said even though it felt like your voice was going to give out at any moment.

Johnny blinked, shaking himself out of his reverie. Stripping his pants off the rest of the way, he fished a condom from his pocket and tore it open. When he rolled it on, you didn’t waste a second and locked your fingers into his hair with an insistent tug. You pulled him up until his body was flush against yours.

“Show me,” you said. “Show me how those damn sods were no good for me. Show me that you can do better.”

A hungry gleam came into Johnny’s arms as he braced his elbows on the couch, hemming you in. You cupped his face as he slotted his cock inside you and slowly, perfectly sank all the way in. Your mouth fell open at the first inch. You were moaning by the time his balls were pressed against your ass, filling you until you felt all of him, thick and throbbing and completely buried inside you.

“Oh, fuck, Johnny,” you said, your voice shaking with sensation. “All for me?”

“All for you, love,” he confirmed.

As he enveloped your body beneath him, your eyes rolled back in your head and you sank your teeth into his shoulder. The salty taste of his skin was even better than you imagined.

Masterlist

#cod #cod imagines #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish imagines #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish imagines #john soap mactavish imagines #writing tag #imagines #fics #recs #tw: sex mention #even if no one else on this planet #wants to read about an eager to please submissive!soap #i'm here to indulge myself

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multific · 1 year

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Your First Valentine's Day with Modern Warfare Men - Preferences

Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Alejandro /x Reader/

John Price

A romantic wedding is his best idea for Valentine's day.

He would reserve a table in a restaurant you both like. He would go full out, chocolates, flowers, a gift.

"I know I don't spend much time with you unfortunately, but I want today to be special."

You know he would try to impress you with the expensive stuff, but if you tell him that even a Burger King menu would make you happy, he would ask you to marry him on the spot.

He's lucky to have you so he would make sure you know how much he appreciates and loves you.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

He would either cook or order something for the occasion. You for sure would stay at home.

He would have the place lit up with candles, soft music in the background.

He would be the definition of soft and cozy.

He would look up internet articles and photos on how to decorate and what to get.

He is not a man of words, more like actions, so he would prove his love by showing you his love.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

A hopeless romantic, he wants to cook something special, but he would nearly burn down his house twice before agreeing to just go out instead.

He would buy you your favourite flowers and a soft bear toy which holds a heart.

He would try to be mysterious and sexy, but he would have a grin on his face so big, it would warm your heart to the fullest.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Would go all the way out! Book you an entire weekend in a nice hotel. Rose petals everywhere, romance and passion are the two words to describe the weekend.

Kyle would show you a side of his that you have never seen before.

König

Shy boy, König still wants to prove his love to you, he wants to create something romantic. Since he is not a big fan of public places, he would also invite you over.

Prior to the big day, he would spend days on websites ordering decorations, flowers and everything he would need.

He would cook traditional Austrian food for you, and tell you stories about how his mother used to make them for him.

Alejandro Vargas

Man has romance in his blood.

Soft Spanish words are spoken that night. He would reserve a table in a nice restaurant, and he would be evil enough to book a place where no one speaks Spanish just so he can tell you anything he wants to. Even if you don't speak Spanish, being with him a couple words for sure would catch your attention.

He would buy roses, first, he wanted to buy as many as days you have spent together. Then he just settled on a nice bouquet.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu @violet-19999 @praline357 @trshngyn

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

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Emotional support bird

Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap

Warnings: none. Pure fluff.

Word count: 850~

PT. 2

On AO3

A/N: take this as a little apology for all the angst I've been posting for this OT3 🫶♥️

“Simon, you’re not gonna believe what we saw at the market today!” (Y/n) greeted him with a wide smile as he held the door open for her and Johnny as they carried their full tote-bags into his house. Simon took a brief moment to admire the rosy apples of her cheeks, and her ever-present sparkling eyes, before she rushed into the kitchen to leave her bag on the counter. Johnny followed after her with a grin, offering Simon a wink as he headed straight to the fridge to leave the cold produce in it.

“...What did you see?” Simon inquired, his curiosity peaked as he shut the door and locked it, before following after his partners to help put the groceries away. They had decided to spend their mandatory two-week post-mission break at Simon’s house, but he had been severely understocked of food, hence the decision was made that Johnny and (Y/n) would make a trip to the closest farmer’s market and gather a few things they would need for the next few days.

“An emotional support dog!” she cooed as she handed him the jars that had to be stored away in the upper cabinets, “a beautiful chocolate lab, her coat was very shiny and she looked super cuddly too!” Simon took the small jars in twos, carefully setting them in their correct places as he listened to her, the hint of a smile teasing his lips as he listened to her. “She was with a family, but I think her owner was the smaller kid, he was holding the leash.” She glanced at Johnny, who still hadn’t been able to wipe the grin off his face. He had already listened to her ramble about the dog, and found it impossible to resist her contagious enthusiasm.

“Those dogs work for different kinds of people,” Simon commented, “wonder why the kid would need one.”

“I don’t know, didn’t ask,” (Y/n) shrugged, handing him the last jar - a gallon jar of pickled peppers, her latest obsession, “I didn’t want to approach them and make them think that I was questioning them for having one.”

“...Do we really need a jar this big?” Simon arched an eyebrow as he picked the jar, nevertheless putting it in place with the others and silently thanking his past self for purchasing such sturdy kitchen cabinets.

“Yes, we do,” (Y/n) nodded in all seriousness, before her beaming smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared, “Oh! She even had her cute little vest on!” she cooed, a pout tugging at the center of her lips as she ended with a whine, “She was so~ cute!”

“Aw, Tweety-bird, don’t be jealous,” Johnny reached over and planted a wet smooch on her cheek, instantly tinting her entire face in a flush, “I think you look even cuter when you wear your vest~.”

“‘m not a dog, though,” she whined, and John and Simon shared a knowing look.

“So, you agree you look cute in your vest,” Simon smirked, his finger poking her nose and causing her to erupt in a giggle, gently swatting his hand away from her face.

“Oh, shut it, you know what I mean!”

Yeah, they knew.

~~~~~~

Two weeks later, as the team prepared to go on yet another mission to the other side of the world, Canary ran her checklist again, making sure everything was packed and ready to go. She was interrupted by two sharp knocks on the door, and she was pleasantly surprised when Ghost appeared at her doorway when she answered her door.

“Oh, hi! What’s-”

“I have a job for you,” he cut her off, and her brow tightened slightly at his serious tone, “follow me.” He left no room for questions as he swiftly turned around and began marching down the hallway in the direction he had come from. Canary was hot on his heels, wondering what this important job could be, being so close to the start of their new mission.

They headed straight to the infirmary, and her confusion only grew when she found Soap sitting on a chair, his left sleeve pulled up all the way above his shoulder, and the nurse waiting patiently next to him with a ready syringe.

“Ah, there she is!” Soap declared brightly, lifting his right arm and holding his hand out to her, “come here, I need you.”

Canary blinked but didn’t hesitate to hold his hand, still confused about the ordeal, “Um, what do you need me for?”

Soap couldn’t stop his grin from widening even more as he squeezed her hand, “Emotional support, duh,” he glanced at the nurse and tilted his head back to Canary, “this is my emotional support bird.”

Canary’s face burned as the nurse shook her head in amusement, getting on with giving Soap his booster shot. His eyes were trained on her in a soft gaze, and she debated whether she wanted to kiss him or smack him in the back of his head, leaning towards the latter as she noticed Ghost clearing his throat to disguise a chuckle behind her.

She still held his hand, though.

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sailorsolar12 · 8 months

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Homecoming (Soap Version)

Character: John "Soap" MacTavish

Pairing: Soap x GN Reader (Y/N is not used)

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: none

John MacTavish had spent the last six months in a war-torn country, facing danger at every turn, and enduring the harshest of conditions. He was a battle-hardened soldier, a skilled operative in the international Special Forces. But now, after what felt like an eternity, he was finally returning home.

As the plane touched down on familiar soil, John's heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. He hadn't seen his significant other in half a year, and he couldn't wait to wrap them in his arms. He disembarked from the aircraft and made his way through the bustling airport, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The airport was filled with families reuniting, loved ones hugging and laughing, tears of joy streaming down cheeks. John's heart swelled as he watched these scenes unfold, knowing that his own reunion was just moments away.

He stepped out of the airport into the warm embrace of the afternoon sun. His significant other had insisted on picking him up, and they had promised to be there when he arrived. John scanned the crowd, his heart pounding harder with every passing second. And then, a familiar figure caught his eye. Their hair was dyed a vibrant shade of blue, and they wore a t-shirt with a slogan that made John chuckle despite himself. It read, "I survived six months without you – toughest mission ever!"

John couldn't help but break into a grin as they saw each other. He quickened his pace, the duffel bag forgotten as he closed the distance between them. And then, finally, they were in each other's arms. The embrace was tight, full of a longing that words could never express. John buried his face in their hair, inhaling deeply and committing their scent to memory. They held onto each other as if they were afraid to let go, as if the world might steal this moment away from them.

"I can't believe you're finally home," they whispered into his ear, their voice filled with emotion.

"I missed you so damn much," John replied, his voice rough with a mix of relief and overwhelming love.

They pulled back slightly, their eyes locking onto his. "Well, prepare yourself, because I've got a whole list of things planned for us now that you're back."

John raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh really? Do I even want to know what's on that list?"

They laughed, a sound that was like music to John's ears. "Trust me, you're going to love it."

Together, they walked towards the car that was parked nearby. John's significant other took his hand in theirs, their fingers intertwining naturally, as if they were made to fit together. The drive home was filled with easy conversation, catching up on all the little things that had happened during John's absence. They talked about their friends, their work, the latest movies they had seen, and the new restaurant that had opened in town.

When they finally arrived home, John couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. The familiar surroundings, the comforting scent of their shared space – it was all so reassuring after the chaos of the battlefield. As he stepped inside, he looked around, taking in the little changes they had made to the decor, the way their personal touches had made the place feel even more like home.

"So, what's first on the list?" John asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

His significant other grinned mischievously. "Well, first we're going to get you cleaned up. Then, we're going to have a movie night – your choice of film, of course. And after that, I've got a surprise dinner planned."

John raised an eyebrow. "A surprise dinner, huh? Should I be worried?"

They chuckled. "Don't worry, it's nothing too fancy. Just something I've been wanting to cook for you."

As John took a long, hot shower, he couldn't help but reflect on how lucky he was to have someone like them in his life. They had been his rock throughout his deployment, sending him care packages, staying up late to video call despite the time zone difference, and writing him letters that he cherished more than anything. Their unwavering support had kept him going during the toughest of times, and now that he was home, he was determined to make every moment count.

When he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in comfortable lounge pants and a soft t-shirt, he found the living room transformed into a cozy haven. Blankets and pillows were strewn across the couch, and a selection of movies was laid out on the coffee table. His significant other was already nestled on the couch, their eyes lighting up when they saw him.

"Welcome to movie night," they said, patting the spot next to them.

John settled in beside them, the warmth of their presence seeping into his bones. They took turns picking movies, laughing and joking as they debated which one to watch. As the opening scenes of the chosen film played on the screen, John couldn't help but steal glances at his significant other. Their laughter, their expressions – all of it was a reminder of the life he had fought so hard to return to.

After the movie, they moved into the kitchen together, working side by side as they prepared dinner. John watched them move with a sense of familiarity, a sense of comfort that only came from sharing a life with someone. They chatted and joked as they cooked, the tension and distance of the past six months melting away with every shared moment.

Finally, dinner was ready, and they sat down at the table, the food spread out before them. John took a bite of the dish they had prepared, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Wow, this is amazing."

They beamed with pride. "I'm glad you like it."

As they ate, they talked about their plans for the future. John shared his dreams of eventually leaving the battlefield behind, of finding a quieter life where he could be with them without the constant threat of danger. They listened, offering words of encouragement and support, their unwavering belief in him giving him the strength to pursue those dreams.

As the evening turned into night, John found himself feeling more at peace than he had in a long time. The weight of the past months seemed to lift off his shoulders, replaced by a sense of belonging and love. He looked at his significant other, really looked at them, and realized just how lucky he was to have them in his life.

As they curled up on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms, John whispered, "Thank you for waiting for me."

They looked up at him, their eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Always, John. You're home now, and that's all that matters."

And in that moment, as they held each other close, John knew that no matter what challenges the future might hold, as long as he had them by his side, he could face anything with courage and determination. The war had shaped him, but it was love that would heal him and guide him toward a future filled with hope and happiness.

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jaymicrosoft · 8 months

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Chicken Diplomacy:

Soap and Y/n's Poultry Predicament

Soap and Y/n found themselves in a precarious situation, trapped in a room with only one exit blocked by an angry chicken. Soap cautiously approached the feathery foe.

"Y/n, do you have any experience with chickens?" Soap asked, eyeing the clucking creature.

Y/n shrugged. "Well, I did have a pet chicken when I was five, but I don't think that's relevant right now."

As Soap inched closer, the chicken puffed up its feathers and let out a menacing squawk. "I think it's challenging your authority, Soap," Y/n teased.

Soap shot them a wry grin. "Oh, it's on now." He tried to imitate the chicken's squawk, resulting in a sound that was a mix between a squawk and a hiccup.

The chicken tilted its head, clearly confused by Soap's attempt at communication. Y/n couldn't hold back their laughter, and soon both of them were snickering uncontrollably.

"Okay, Plan B," Soap declared, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Y/n, remember your childhood chicken-whispering skills. See if you can negotiate a truce."

Y/n nodded solemnly and turned to the chicken. "Listen, buddy, we don't want any trouble. We just need to get through that door."

The chicken stared at Y/n for a moment, then let out a single, defiant squawk before dramatically flapping its wings and strutting away, leaving a clear path to the exit.

Soap and Y/n exchanged amazed looks before bursting into laughter again. "I can't believe that actually worked," Soap chuckled.

Y/n grinned. "Guess my chicken-whispering skills are better than I thought."

As they made their escape, Soap turned to Y/n. "You know, if this whole military thing doesn't work out, you might have a future as a chicken negotiator."

Y/n laughed. "Hey, don't underestimate the power of effective communication, even with chickens."

And so, Soap and Y/n continued on their adventure, forever bonded by the bizarre and hilarious chicken encounter.

#john soap mactavish #cod soap #john soap mactavish imagine #john soap mactavish imagines #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish

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chaosandmarigolds · 21 days

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“No, no no, baby-baby let mama talk-“ much to your dismay your toddler already took off with the tablet down the hall with your husband on face time. With a disgruntled huff you walk down the hall and move to open the door only to falter for a moment as you hear your husbands voice.

“Takin’ care of your mum, bubs?”

“Des sir.”

“Why you runnin’ from her then?”

“Caasaaus I wanna talk to you and when mummy starts to talk to you she doesn’t share.”

A gruff laugh, “Alright alright, well what do you wanna talk about then, lad?”

You stand outside the door for a solid ten minutes before you knocked on the door and moved your son to your lap to smile down at your husband.

“Hey, honey.”

“Hey, hot stuff.”

You see him roll his eyes and you bite back a smile.

“Lad told me you’re not sharin enough.”

You playfully gasp, which triggered your sons giddy laughter, “No! Really??”

“Really!”

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reds-skull · 1 month

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I really should draw Soap more with his red mask, as you all can tell I love it

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod soap #cod ghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod fanart #cod comic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fanart #call of duty #this took. like a month.#dont expect this level of detail in the future. it looks nice but it takes wayyy too long to make #and. i dont have that kind of time #anyways. i imagine this happens pre-romantic relationship #it makes it funnier for me to draw ghost so obviously whipped and have soap like clueless lmao

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shadow4-1 · 12 days

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I'm just imagining getting so used to physical contact from the 141 that you don't realize it's inappropriate until it's too late.

At first you shied away from them all. You gave them a good breadth of space because, well, it would be inappropriate. But eventually you acquiesced to the noogies and the funny little pats Price loves to give.

Soon enough you found yourself being aggressively head-locked by Soap and tossed around by Gaz. It's just boys being boys, it's friendly and fun. The deeper your bond the less you seem to care about their hands on you.

It isn't until one night when you're playing a little handheld game in the rec room do you think maybe everyone's gotten a lil' too comfortable. You're curled up between Soap and Ghost in one of their hoodies and some non-reg shorts. Both of their hands are splayed out on your inner thighs, one tapping, the other rubbing. Gaz comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your neck to get a good look over your shoulder.

"Catching 'em all, Love?"

#cod imagines #mw2 #call of duty #mw2 headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #captain price #kyle gaz garrick

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v1x3n · 2 months

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toxic fwb ghost x reader x johnny 'soap' mctavish┃ navigation part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 ୨୧ tags : angst, suggestive

simon 'ghost' riley who's one of your closest friends. he soon flirts with you and then you two decide to start shagging - no strings attached. just sex, a friends with benefits situation.

you had promised, even pinky swore to never fall in love with each other, he took the rules seriously and never fell in love but you couldn't last long.

simon knew you had liked him, hell, you fucking loved him. even before the casual hook-ups, and he still went through with it all. knowing you were in love with him. he took advantage of it.

he would grab onto you and fuck you whenever, you were his outlet, he knew you would spread or bend over whenever he wanted. he was your light and best friend, you would do anything for his love. yet the love never delivered to you.

simon soon regrets his choices after he caught you talking, laughing and checking out johnny 'soap' mctavish. Simons best friend.

comment to join main taglist!

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mistydeyes · 10 months

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what 141's military personnel file looks like

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

NOTE: NOT CANON! most of the information is based off of the wiki/my medical file post

summary: So what exactly were in those dossiers Price gave to Laswell at the end of MW 2019? Here's a look into those, along with some reminders/sticky notes. Answering this ask :)

template if you’d like to try it out!

ALSO! the ages were such a headache this post did a great job explaining how confusing the wiki/some statements are so please check it out

warnings: medical inaccuracies, mention of wounds/wound care, mentions of depression, medical terminology

a/n: these came out better than i thought! also 2004 was such a bad year for Price and Ghost

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

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hiding-in-my-blanket-fort · 5 months

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Soap was gone too long. The mission took more time than he'd planned and that meant you would be spending the night alone. Again.

So, when Soap finally came home in the middle of the night, bone-weary and more than ready to hug the shit out of you, he found you fast asleep. You were enveloped in one of his hoodies, the hood partially concealing your head. And your arms were wrapped around a pillow with one of his shirts pulled over it, your face buried in the fabric to surround yourself with the smell of him.

"What's all this, my sweet bonnie?" he said softly, touching your cheek. "No need to cuddle up with a pillow like that when you've got the real thing right here."

When Soap tried to tug the pillow out of your arms, you whimpered, your eyebrows drawn together as you clutched the pillow tighter. It damn near broke his heart.

"It's all right, darling. I'm here now. It's okay."

As Soap finally managed to free the pillow from your grip, you blinked awake, bleary-eyed.

"Johnny?" you rasped, your fingers twisting into his shirt.

He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, sliding himself into bed beside you. He hooked his hand behind your knee and hauled your leg up over his hips, pushing your bodies flush together.

"You're home," you whispered, tucking your face into his warm neck. The smell of him was a thousand times better when he was here with you than faded on his t-shirts and clothing.

"Yeah, love." He kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arms crushingly tight around you. "I'm home, baby. I'm home."

Masterlist

#cod #cod imagines #johnny soap mactavish imagines #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish imagines #soap mactavish imagines #fics #recs #writing tag #johnny soap mactavish x reader

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multific · 1 year

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Soap NSFW Alphabet

John “Soap” MacTavish x Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Johnny's aftercare is just perfect, he gets all soft and gentle, kissing the bruises that are yet to form, kissing you, running his hands up your thighs and back, softly talking about how much he loves you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

Ass.

John would hardly be able to choose a part which is his favourite, he loves all of you, but he had a thing for your ass. And taking you from behind was something he absolutely adored.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

On your ass is one of his things, coating you in his cum is a proof of who you belong to.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

John likes roleplay.

And he has a hero kink.

If he can play with the thought that he is saving you and you call him your hero, he would get hard in an instant.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re

doing?)

Before he joined the team, he had many lovers, not too many though. He would know what he's doing but he wouldn't call himself that experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. From behind.

Taking you from behind so he can see your ass bounce as he pounds you or as you move back on him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, always but he could be goofy if he wants to.

He prefers to be serious because he has so limited time with you, he doesn't want to waste any.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dark hair for sure, but he always take the time to shave before he goes to see you. He does let it grow out during missions though.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very intimate.

Love-making is his speciality he would often say, and he does not lie.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Of course, it happens during lonely nights.

He would touch himself imagining you are with him and doing it to him. He would be quiet, or as quiet as he can be.

One of the sexiest sights to see his pants by his ankle, his shirt rolled up as he bites down on the fabric while he fists his cock.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding.

Even if he has a condom on, the thought of filling you to the brim and watching it slowly ooze out of you is a sight to behold.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your shared bed.

Something extremely domestic about how he is so fixated on having you in bed.

But he does like quickies though. He likes to bend you over the table or put you up on the countertop.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you wearing his shirt. But he does have a favourite dress of yours. A beautiful nice black short dress.

But the domestic sight of you in the kitchen preparing food or just ironing his shirts can turn him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurting you in any form. One time you tried choking, and it left bruises. He hated the sight. So, while you liked when he was rough, he would never do things like choking after that day. He was too afraid he would lose control one day.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Of course, he loves to see you on your knees for him but he prefers to get lost in your cunt. He loves giving oral, making you feel amazing, and smelling your arousal.

He always eats you out before he fucks you. He's like a starved man.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Limited by the time and depending on his mood he changes the pace.

When he arrives home after a long mission, he is always slow and sensual, making sure you feel absolutely every snap of his hips.

But when he is about to leave, he is quick and a little rough.

Fucking you into the mattress so you do not think of any other men ever.

Not like you would.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not too often but it does happen.

For him, quickies are mainly when he suddenly feels possessive or you just look way too good in his shirt one morning and he just has to have you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He would be open if you wanted to try something out, and he is not shy to bring in his own ideas.

As long as you are both comfortable, he is down.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Many.

Too many. So many in fact he can still go after you black out. He could go for rounds and rounds not letting you catch a break.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or

themselves?)

He is not big on toys.

He prefers to use his own cock instead of a dildo but he is not opposed to you having some. He understands you need them when he's not there to help.

One thing he does like is the buttplugs. Seeing you have one in or even just the thought drives him wild.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't like to tease or be teased.

But it does make things a lot more interesting whenever you are out and you or he start it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lots and lots of grunts.

His voice in your ear, with that accent of his calling your name. He likes it when you are loud but he does make noise himself.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Johnny's extremely possessive.

He knows you'd never leave him, yet he still has a feeling in his stomach whenever you laugh at one of Ghost's terrible jokes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Nice thick and long cock.

Johnny knows he is big and he knows how to use his impressive member.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Given his line of work, he knows how to control himself. But it's hard when you are right there.

During those times he always has to touch you in some way.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He always waits for you to fall asleep on his chest first. He prefers to make sure you are warm and comfortable after sex.

But it does happen sometimes that he falls asleep first. During those times, you just watch him as he sleeps.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

Text

Bird hunting

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

Chapter 6: Bird Song

Ch. 5 < Series Masterlist > Ch. 7

Warnings: body horror, graphic description of injuries, panic attack, cursing, hurt/comfort, angst

Summary: Price and Hartford have both gotten someone stolen from them. Simon and Johnny want to hear their bird singing again.

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

Word count: 3300~

At nightfall, the Task Force was back at base. The ride had been silent, each lost in their own thoughts. After finding the footprints in the mud, the glove, and the dart, not much else had been found, meaning the police would only have those to work on. It wasn’t looking too promising, and the soldiers couldn’t help but feel useless, having to sit by idly while Canary was somewhere out there, suffering only God knew what.

Ghost and Soap ate their dinner in silence, or rather inhaled it without tasting it, before storming straight to the showers. The rest of the team watched them go in silence, choosing to let them be for the time being. Their captain couldn’t help but empathize with them, he couldn’t begin to understand what they were going through.

Price had been for a long time the only person who knew those two were more than just comrades in arms, and more than simple friends. He had been quite shocked that someone managed to get under Simon’s skin like that, but wasn’t so surprised to know that it had been Johnny who did it.

It was even less surprising to see Canary joining the duo - they had always been close from the moment she joined the team, after all. The young woman had that strange ability to worm herself into the hearts of people without even trying to. Price had quickly noticed how easily she could make Soap’s mouth crack in a grin, even at the most difficult moments, and how Ghost’s glare would soften in the slightest the moment she walked into whatever room he was in.

Several moments passed until he finished his own dinner, and took his leave to shut himself in his office. He decided he could spend the night there - even though he despised sleeping on the uncomfortable couch for how unforgiving it was on his back, he didn’t dare sleep away from the phone.

~~~~~~

Johnny sat on his bed, freshly dressed in a long sleeved shirt - that used to be Simon’s until he never gave it back - and sweatpants, his hair still wet and flat on his head after his shower. He had begun unpacking his bags, when something had stopped him in his tracks. He just stared at the object while his clothes, medkit, and other necessities surrounded him.

Simon walked in and locked the door behind himself, immediately pulling off his balaclava and tossing it in the damper. His hair was still slightly wet, and he was toweling it off when he noticed Johnny staring into his bag with a forlorn expression on his face. Simon was sure a similar expression was on his own, but it tugged at his heart strings to see it on him of all people. He stepped closer to Johnny, peering into his bag to see what had caught his attention, and his eyes fell on the pocket-sized tube of 80 SPF sunscreen at the bottom.

“...I need to find her,” Johnny’s voice was hoarse when he broke the silence, “I need to let her know I did listen to her.” He finally reached down to hold the small tube in his hands, fidgeting with it before leaving it on the bedside table.

Simon sighed as he sat down on his own bed, his knees just inches away from Johnny’s and his eyes fixed on his hands. He picked on a bit of skin around his thumb nail, wondering what he could say. He never felt confident when reassuring people, and tended to go straight to the point. It was easier on the battlefield, to grumble about the mission and move on, and leave the grieving for later.

But this situation was much different - this was not a battlefield, and he was also worried sick. He also bluntly refused to call it ‘grief’, because that would give his mind permission to consider Canary dead. And until he saw her body he would refuse to believe it still.

“...Hartford may call Price anytime with news,” Simon finally sighed and rubbed his eyes a bit harsher than necessary, “we need to get some shut-eye while we can.” They both looked like they had just been through a wringer, with dark circles becoming more evident under their eyes. He felt Johnny’s eyes on him and he looked up, a soft breath leaving his lips when he nodded in reply.

“...Yeah, I’m off to bed now,” Johnny mumbled while he began putting his items back in their respective places, emptying his bed. “You should also sleep.”

“I’ll try,” Simon conceded, before laying down on his bed with a groan. After a few moments, Simon quietly called for him, lifting his blanket.

Johnny’s eyes softened as he climbed on Simon’s bed, laying snugly between his arms. His nose pressed against Simon’s neck and he inhaled his scent. He felt his strong hands rubbing the knots on his back and left out a quiet groan. Slowly, his eyelids dropped, and he used the last bits of his consciousness to place butterfly kisses on any stretch of Simon’s skin he could reach, earning an appreciative moan in return.

Although his worries and fears would easily leave his mind, Johnny let himself fall into the clutches of sleep. It was in the privacy of Simon’s embrace he - and Canary - always felt the safest, after all.

~~~~~~

Timothy Hartford looked up at the clear sky, feeling a bittersweet sensation of pleasure that it was such a lovely night for a stargazing date. He slowly, almost reluctantly, lowered his gaze to the line of trees a few feet away from the road he was standing on. He focused his eyes once again on the small red sedan crashed into one of the pine trees. The sight wasn’t any different than the one he had arrived to in a frenzy minutes ago, only that now instead of just a couple of police officers, it was surrounded by firemen, CSI, and the forensic team.

At first sight, it looked like any other poor, unlucky driver who underestimated the windy roads. But there was nothing routinary about this crash. Some officers who had been patrolling or were off-duty were loitering around outside the bright yellow tape. There was no traffic at this time of night, so all the focus was on the tragedy unfolding in front of them for one of their own.

The detective steeled himself and forced his feet to move him forward, once again to the car that once belonged to Officer Melanie Kirk. As he got closer to the car, he grabbed a pair of gloves from a CSI’s kit and put them on.

As he approached the forensic doctor, who was hunched over the driver’s seat, he spared another look at Melanie Kirk - the tenth tonight -, still strapped to her seat with her head hanging to the side. Her eyes were half-lidded, and a fine thread of red ran from her lips to her chin. No changes.

“She was shot straight in the chest,” the doctor said to the detective, bringing him back from his wandering thoughts, and pointing at the small circle sitting in the middle of a sea of dried blood, “I’d say she was dead before the car impacted the tree.” Hartford let his eyes linger for a moment longer on his former student, and looked at the state of the car. The front was scrunched up in a deadly hug around the tree, and the windshield was broken, but there was one little hole in the glass that looked too perfect to be the result of the collision.

“Her gun?” He still asked - he needed to make sure.

“In her gym bag, passenger side,” said one of the officers processing the scene, “but this was in her hand,” he added, handing Hartford a transparent evidence bag with her phone.

He held it in his hand, and pressed the power button, immediately being greeted by Melanie’s smiley face holding a sleeping newborn. The recent memory of the young officer excitedly thrusting the phone in his face to show him - and anyone in her vicinity - pictures of her baby nephew assaulted him, and he forced himself to pay no mind to the pit in his stomach. “Do we know if she was talking to someone when this happened?”

“Yeah, the police dispatcher,” the officer sighed, “she’s waiting for your call.” Just as the officer finished his sentence and Hartford nodded in response, the phone lit up again with an incoming call notification, the contact picture showed Melanie hugging a woman who looked exactly like her, except older, and the name “Momma” flashing on the screen.

“...Has anyone told her parents?” Hartford looked at the officer, who only bit his lips and frowned, shaking his head at him in sorrow. The detective felt at least two decades older as he sighed, watching the screen until the call ended. He was well aware that it was a message none of them ever wanted to deliver. “...I will. I know them.” He handed the phone back to the officer and looked over at the car, which was now being torn apart by the firemen to take the body out.

A silence fell over the crowd of police officers, as they watched the young woman being pulled from her death place and into a body bag. Something had shifted over in the air, and the detective recognized it, the same bloodthirsty determination that he had caught on Soap and Ghost earlier that afternoon, but this time on all of the people present at the scene.

He pulled his phone out and looked at it, briefly wondering which of the many calls he had to make should come first. He made up his mind and searched through the contacts, finding his choice and pressing the ‘call’ button.

~~~~~~

Simon stood in front of Canary’s apartment door, taking his spare key and unlocking it quietly. The hinges creaked as it opened, and he made a mental note about oiling them as soon as he could. The apartment was cozy and welcoming, the scent of a rose-scented candle wafting through the air. The warm light of the sunset colored the walls in an orange hue, and although the sight usually brought a sense of calmness on him, his heart was filled with dread.

He caught sight of Johnny storming out of the living room area of the apartment, directing a teary, angry glare at Simon before violently shoving him to the side and stomping out of the apartment. Simon followed him to the door and tried to call out to him, but he had disappeared from the hallways.

Slowly, he walked further into the apartment, his right hand twitching for a gun he knew wasn’t there. As he rounded the corner of the entrance hall, he saw Canary standing in front of the window, staring out to the skies.

Simon’s heart dropped to his stomach as he took in her appearance. She was naked, and her hair was matted. Bruises of different sizes and in different stages of healing covered her once soft skin. He could see the blatant signs of fractured ribs, and dried blood coating her inner thighs. As he stood there, completely frozen, Canary slowly turned around, revealing more bruises to her front, a long horizontal bruise around her neck, and bitemarks wherever he looked. When he looked at her face, he felt tears pooling in his eyes. Her eyes were blotched red, her lips swollen, her nose crooked, and blood dripping from every orifice.

Her lips cracked open but didn’t move, and he still heard her accusing voice in his brain.

“...I waited for you, and you didn’t come.”

~~~~~~

When Simon finally came to, he was heaving for air, his lungs aching as he tried desperately to breathe. He had sat up at one point, and clutched at his clothed chest with a deathgrip. He felt scorching hot and freezing cold at the same time, fear frying his nerves all over his body. His sight was blurred with tears, but he still recognized Johnny’s shape by his side and felt the strong weight of his hand on his trembling back.

Johnny was talking to him, but he could barely register it over his panting and the loud buzzing in his ears. Slowly, though, his voice, gently calling his name, prevailed, and Simon turned to face him with tears streaming down his face. Johnny kept talking to him and rubbing his back, coaching him into taking deep breaths.

Simon forced himself to follow his lead and slow his panting down, finally managing it after several minutes and breaking into a sob. He clutched at his knees and his head fell forward, the pain in his chest unrelenting.

Johnny moved then, tenderly cupping his head and tugging him towards himself, carefully holding Simon’s head into his shoulder. Hot tears drenched his shirt, and his own face scrunched up in agony at seeing his partner in such despair and being unable to make it disappear.

They sat like that for a few minutes, at one point Johnny’s own tears escaped him, creating wet trails down his cheeks. He gulped down the knot in his throat and stroked Simon’s hair, who had significantly calmed down and was now quietly sniffling in his shoulder.

“...Want to talk about it?” He asked, and gently took his hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

Simon didn’t answer at first, but eventually sighed, knowing that he needed to talk about it or else it would remain locked in his head forever. “...Canary, she was-... She was all…messed up…” he inhaled a shaky breath, and Johnny understood, giving him a gentle squeeze, “she said she waited for me.” His voice faltered and ended in a pained whisper, and it broke Johnny’s heart.

It always pained him when he couldn’t just suck all of Simon’s nightmares out of his brain with a vacuum and leave him like new. He could, however, hold him in his despair and be there for him.

“We will find her,” he told him, his lips brushing against Simon’s forehead, “but you have to believe that with your whole heart.”

Simon sighed at the tender gesture, the corner of his lip twitching when he recognized the familiar sentence, “Using my own words against me, huh.”

Johnny cracked a smile and gently pulled Simon’s face away from his shoulder, pressing soft kisses over his closed eyelids, “Jus’ using the words from a wise man,” he pulled away and stared into his eyes, pressing their foreheads together.

They sat like that in silence, their breaths mixing in the air between them and their eyes fixed on each other’s. Johnny’s hands cupped Simon’s face with unwavering care, his thumbs caressing over the scars. Simon sighed into his ministrations, slowly moving his own hands to wrap them around his lover’s mid-section and holding him close.

Johnny offered him a small smile, his tumb grazing over his lips, “...Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Simon whispered, before their lips locked in a slow, tender, reassuring kiss.

An hour later, Simon and Johnny were huddled up against each other, staring at the sergeant’s phone as a video played.

In the video was Canary, wearing a black tank top, cargo pants and boots. Her jacket was tied around her waist by the sleeves, and her hair was held up in a bun. Johnny had recorded her during a visit at the military kennels, and she was crouched down in front of one of the cages that held a young German Shepherd.

She was giggling at herself, before plucking her lips and whistling. She used her tongue and throat muscles to modify the sound until it imitated a canary chirping. The dog at the other side of the gate stopped panting, his ears shooting up in attention, and his head tilting to the side. He looked intrigued, and kept tilting his head to one side and the other as he tried to figure out where that sound came from. The image broke her into another giggle, and other people out of frame joined her, much to the chagrin of the confused pup that began barking at them.

The video finished there, but both men kept watching at the screen. Simon moved his hand and pressed play again, just to hear her laugh once more.

~~~~~~

Price laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling as he was assaulted by insomnia. He had talked to Laswell hours earlier, giving her an update of the events so far. She had been quick to look up info on the van, informing him that it had been reported stolen weeks prior. John had suspected as much, and received the news that there had been no calls demanding ransom with a tired sigh. That could only mean that Canary’s captors had no intention of giving her back.

Now he laid in silence, having counted the tiles on the ceiling for the fourth time and giving up on trying to sleep. His thoughts were everywhere, but mostly on his own failure as a Captain for not making sure that she would be safe during her leave.

His self-punishing brainstorming was interrupted when his phone lit up with an incoming call from Hartford. He picked it up in a fraction of a second, sitting up on the couch.

“Hartford,” he said, and worry seeped deeper in his bones as his friend waited two extra seconds to answer.

“Price,” he finally greeted, he sounded exhausted, his voice heavy with seriousness, like that time at Canary’s apartment, “I have news.”

“Jesus, mate,” Price sighed, rubbing his face, “don’t beat around the bush, just spit it.”

Hartford sighed and nodded, even though he knew his friend couldn’t see, “Officer Melanie Kirk was shot and killed tonight, a couple hours ago.” John’s eyes opened wide and his jaw slackened. He remembered the officer, who talked about the tranquilizer dart and processed Canary’s glove earlier that afternoon. Killed?

“I had a talk with the police dispatcher, who she was talking to at the moment of the shooting,” the detective continued, “Mel-... Kirk had called to report that she was following a van similar to the one that drove by the search area earlier today. The license plate matched.” The detective paused, taking a deep breath, “before the dispatcher could give her instructions, she heard a shot, and then the car crashing into the trees. She rang the alarm to every patrol available after that.”

John let the words settle in his brain, before he finally broke the silence, “I’m so sorry, Timothy.” He hoped the sincerity in his voice reached his friend, and felt regret for not being able to be there for him. He knew how hard the other felt every loss, another reason for his early military retirement. A shaky ‘thanks’ came from the other side, before John spoke again. “How are your boys holding up?”

“Just like yours,” Hartford’s tone turned serious, sentencing, “we’ve set up blockades in several points, and notified other jurisdictions for them to do the same. We’re going to find those motherfuckers even if we have to knock on Satan’s door itself.”

John nodded and frowned himself, feeling the rage bloom in his chest once again. Both men were related now in more ways than their military roots now, and this investigation had become more than a personal case, it had become a personal mission. “Let me know how we can help.”

Hartford felt a smirk twitch his lips, his idea at the tip of his tongue - all rules be damned.

“Once we catch one of them and bring them in for interrogation, I want your boys in there too.”

A/N: Wanna guess how many times I've cried while writing this chapter?

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