#johnny mactavish x fem reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brewed-pangolin · 2 months

Text

Ribbed for Her Pleasure

A/N: I can't recall who I saved this Soap photo from. If anyone knows, please tell me so I can give credit. 💛

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Explicit Smut, P in V, filthy banter, car sex, slight exhibitionism

Thank y'all for being patient. Seems like the writers block has started to lift a bit, and I'm finally back to indulging myself in Soap filth. Enjoy a nice road trip that turns into an exciting sexcapade. @glitterypirateduck I decided to flip the script on this one. I can't say no to Soap being a menacing tease. @waves-against-a-cliff thank you for sending in my first 🛞⭕💢⭕💢🛞, hope you like it.

Love y'all. And happy Super Soap Sunday!

WC ~2k

4Runner Soap loves to tease while driving on extended road trips.

It's subtle at first. His warm hand resting on your thigh as you ramble on about nothing and everything under the sun.

He'll steal a few quick glances of your expression to attempt to gauge whether or not he's having the desired effect on you.

If you meet his steely gaze with equal growing intentions, he'll keep his hand resting on your thigh with a loving squeeze as his attention returns to the road ahead.

Yet if you show no reaction to his ministrations, continuing your verbal regurgitation of the weeks events, he'll have no choice but to press onward. His one hand gripped tightly around the steering wheel as the other moved further down ever closer between your thighs.

You feel his hand meandering ever closer to your clothed heat, but pay no mind to him. Only pointing out the next exit as you once more embellish his ears with mindless and unending banter.

Unperturbed by your unwillingness to give in, he sets forth in motion the one move, his last effort against your resolve to force you to finally surrender to him.

You didn't notice the subtle shift in the vehicles trajectory at first. Too focused on your phone and following the tiny icon as it moved along the highlighted route on the GPS.

It was only when you heard the rumbling hum of the tires over the ribbed outer lines of the lanes did you finally pull your eyes and pull your attention to him.

Before you could utter a singular protest, his hand moved the center of your thighs and pressed his index and middle finger into the inner seam of your jeans. Enhancing the continuous feel of the vibrations reverberating under the metal frame as they culminated into the growing throb emanating within your swelling folds.

"Johnny," you whimpered in feigning protest as his fingertips rubbed over the raised center of your trousers.

"What are you doing? Pay attention to the-"

"Shu' it, lass." Soap barked back with a playful bite rolling off his tongue.

"Rest tha' mouth a'yers fer a minute, yeah. Or I'm gonnae 'ave ta put ta better use."

Words failed you as his thick fingers continued to push into the flesh of your clothed cunt. Still riding the jagged lines on the pavement, making you roll your eyes back and bite your lip to quell the muffled moan threatening to escape within the depths of your throat.

"Ya like tha', bonnie? Ribbed fer yer pleasure by th'roadside?" He mocked with a confidence that never failed to make you quiver.

Feeling your arousal pool within in the depths of your soaking heat as his fingers pressed firmly against your swollen folds. Only managing to moan in response, which further fueled his resolve with a guttural growl, pulling his hands away from your growing pleasure and immediately shifting to take the next exit.

"Johnny, this isn't our exit."

"Nah. Emergency stop. Got a full stauner 'ere, and I cannae focus on nothin' else except tha' sweet pussy a'yers."

You turned to face him, eyes glancing down to focus on thr growing tent in his pants. The sounds of 4Runner's engine revving mirroring the sexual tension between the seats as Soap veered the vehicle into traffic, his eyes desperate and focused on finding a secluded passage for some much needed privacy.

It took no more than five minutes to find one that met his growing needs. A meandering dirt road that ended against an abandoned fence with a rusted and weather tempered 'No Trespassing' sign.

You barely had a moment to unbuckle your seat belt as he made his way to your side of the SUV. Inhuman speed fed by an unadulterated need to take you, unceremoniously throwing you over his shoulder with a huffing grunt. Only to be reciprocated by a piercing snicker, accepting your fate as he threw you into the flattened back of the cargo space and greedily began tearing your clothes away.

"Aren't you afraid we'll get caught?" Your pathetic attempt to reason with him only seemed to spur him further into a needy and unbridled rage.

"Fuck 'em. My need fer ya outweighs them bloody regulations." Soap spat back through gritted teeth.

Your exposed form laying out for him as he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal the chiseled frame that always seemed to render you speechless and begging for him.

Feeling the warmth of your arousal pool within your folds, spreading your legs to invite him in with a confident stare that mirrored his own hungry gaze.

"Steamin Jesus, look a'tha. Already fuckin soakin fer me, aren't ya, bonnie?"

"Always, Johnny. Nobody makes me wetter than you."

Soap's cerulean eyes swirled with glorious intent, flickering between your desperate expression and the glistening folds of encroaching conquest as he hastily unbuckled the confines of his trousers. Pushing the fabric of his pants and boxers down to release his throbbing length, a subtle whimper escaping his lips to the cool air hitting his hot flesh as a stream of precum ran down the tip of his reddened cock.

"Yer always so fuckin pretty like this, lass. Spread out an' jus' waitin fer me."

His jaw tightened to sight of your cunt clenched around nothingness in reaction to his sultry brogue. Splaying yourself out for him like a sacrificial lamb while the deafening sounds of echoing traffic echoed from deep within the trees and rolled around the walls of your private encampment.

"Gonnae fuck ya good, bonnie," he purred lowly with a rolling timbre. Ever so slowly moving like a predator as he encroached and hovered over your flushed and exposed form.

The maelstrom churning within the depths of his eyes luring you to his turbulent sea of ecstacy, nestling himself within the crevice of your thighs as he aligned his hardened cock to the puckering hole of your swollen cunt.

"Joh-" your muffled attempt to calm his name was silenced as his mouth sealed over your lips. Piercing the fluttering walls of your pussy in one fluid stroke, bottoming out with a resonating growl while his hands found purchase under the soft bend of your knees.

"Put yer knees on me shoulders, bonnie." He coaxed, pulling away from your lips to guide the shaky limbs of your legs over the broad expanse of his shoulders.

The sudden shift in position moving him slightly within your tight walls as the greedy flesh of your cunt clenched around his turgid length. Rolling your eyes back with a hissing breath, hands flying up above your head to find purchase within the haul of the vehicle as he laid his dense and muscular form on top of your folded and contorted frame.

"Tha's it, bonnie. Fuckin' clench around me. Lemme feel how much ya need me."

As the sounds of his rumbling voice reverberated within your ears, he glacially pulled his hips back. Nearly pulling out completely before penetrating once more and filling the silken depths of your heat in one fluid and languid thrust.

Forcing a gravelly moan from within the cavern of your chest, fingers wrapping around the metal frame protruding from the haul as Soap braced his hands on either side of your head and steadily began to thrust himself deep into your greedy hole.

“Johnny- aren't ya gonna close- the hatch?” you groaned, gritting your teeth while he picked up his pace. Steadily pounding his hips against your ass, his lips curling into a cocky smile while his eyes glinted at his mischievous intent.

“Nah, bonnie. Gonnae give em- a good show-” he crooned in response with a breathy growl. Disregarding your concern for the outside world, continuing to pound his cock into your welcoming heat as the creaking sound of the suspension began to echo across the shell of your ears.

You attempted to lift your head and catch a glimpse of the tree laden environment around you, only to be forced back down as Soap changed trajectory once more. Your mouth falling open with a silently pleasured protest as the thick head of his cock ran over a sensitive bundle of nerves deep within your cunt that only he had managed to find.

“Holy fuck!” Your voice hollered over the sounds of the croaking suspension, finally giving into the unrelenting ecstasy only he could provide. Arching your back against the carpeted floor of the cargo space, desperate to meet his powerful thrusts and aid in his direction while he maintained a steady, vigorous pace.

“Found tha’ spot. Didnae I, bon? Gonnae make a mess on me cock? Scream me name as I fuck ya real good? Clenchin around me like-”

“Goddammit! Shut up!”

His unending banter had finally pushed your quiet resolve to the wayside. Reaching your hand feverishly towards his neck, wrapping your fingers around the chain of his dangling dog tags to bring his running mouth down to your lips and ultimately rendering him blissfully silent.

Sinking your teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip as you wrap your free arm around the back of his neck. Keeping his chest flushed against yours, a thin sheen of sweat forming between the sliding flesh and forcing only his hips to move as he pumped himself into the depths of your soaking heat.

The wet sounds of your pussy emanating off the plastic and fabric haul of his 4Runner, accompanied by the combined gasping breaths from your chests that formed into a blissfully erotic symphony. A duet only heightened by the most pornagraphic whimper you had ever heard against your mouth as his hips began to stutter and his eyes pleaded for his upcoming release.

“Steamin Jesus, bonnie. I’m gonnae come. Gonnae fill ya up.” Soap’s muffled words vibrated against the flesh of your mouth as your free hand gripped into the thick locks of his mohawk.

Pulling his mouth away to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Letting your lips seal over the top of his shoulder and silence the strained bellow from within your chest as your orgasm suddenly erupted and coursed through your veins like a violent blaze.

Soap’s hot breath cascading against your flesh with a guttural growl, his hands gripping to the carpeted fabric as he bottomed out in one final thrust and emptied himself against the spongy walls of your pulsing cervix. Pulling his trembling body up to let your legs fall and extend, the burn of over exertion flowing underneath your skin as an all too familiar ache began to form within the buried tissue around your pelvis.

“Jesus Christ, Soap. Where the fuck did this come from?” Your voice hushed in the grips of blissful afterglow, hands meandering to his temples while his body steadily began to collapse above you.

“Donnae know, lass. Thinkin maybe, it was them bloody reflectors.”

Reluctantly, Soap began to pull himself off your overly exhausted frame, only to be pulled back down by your clawing hands and laid his head against your sweat ladened and heaving bare chest.

“Not yet, babe. Just rest a minute.” Speaking in a hushed tone, you pressed your lips against the drenched crest of his scalp. Tasting the saltiness against your tongue and allowing your hands to gently run down the curve of his spine as you felt him steadily give into body’s exhaustion.

“If you don’t rest, Johnny, I’m gonna have to drive the rest of the way while you sleep this off.”

“Haud yer weesht, hen.” He retorted, his brogue quiet and muffled against the supple flesh of your breast. Your lips curling into a smooth smile as you reveled in the gentle sounds of nature accompanied by the everpresent hum of distant traffic.

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @ohgeesoap @d3athtr4psworld @mini-metal @punishmepunisher @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @ghosts-goldendoodle @shotmrmiller @mykneeshurt @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @tacticalanxiety @thetrashpossum @queen-ilmaree @sadstone-s @simpingoverquestionablemen @dustycrusty09 @foxface013 @haurasha @havoc973 @kkaaaagt @designateddeadend @luismickydees

580 notes · View notes

josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Text

Soap’s Secret

Pairing: Johnny “soap” McTavish x female reader.

Summary: soap has been sneaking around while home from deployment, you can’t figure out what he’s been doing and when you catch him in a lie, he tries to make it up to you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: allusions to cheating, insecurity, jealousy, Johnny tries to kinda fight Simon lol.

Note: Hope you love this @sofasoap 🥰

Johnny had never hidden anything from you, he was always an open book, someone that had nothing to hide and no secrets hidden from you. Which is probably what fuelled your insecurity and the harsh thoughts that we’re trying to convince you that Johnny was hiding something from you. He was home from deployment. 3 short months you had to spend with Johnny, time to you that felt like days in comparison to the time he was gone.

He had been distant before when he had seen something really traumatic, something that had taken him months to tell you, but this, this felt different, it felt sneaky. It had been happening once a week for three weeks, three days taken from you, something that adds up relatively quickly when you have as little time together as you already do.

He left this morning at 09:00am, he gave you a small kiss on the check and left with a “love you” something that your brain brain whirring into overdrive, he had always kissed you passionately, he hated being away from you, always muttered a dozen “I love you’s” before he finally departed from your prescience. You’d spent most of the day crying, curled up in bed moping at the obvious answer you’d refused to come to terms with, Johnny, your husband, the love of your life was cheating on you. There was no other rational explanation, you didn’t come to this conclusion lightly.

You pack a small travel bag, shoving in essentials like clothes, toiletries and a framed photo of you and Johnny on your wedding day, although he had betrayed you, you knew you likely wouldn’t ever stop loving him. You exhale shakily as you write a note, not being able to handle confrontation, you wouldn’t allow him to lie his way out of the truth, and you couldn’t deal with seeing him hurt, even if he had broken your heart into a million shards that would remain broken.

You kiss the letter and sob as you place it on the dining table, the bold letters “dear Johnny” was likely to gain his attention, you couldn’t bare to look back at your house, one you had purchased together nearly a decade ago. The thought hit you hard, 15 years thrown in the gutter just like that.

You dumped your bag in the passenger seat of the car and drove, miraculously you didn’t end up in a car wreck, not remembering taking the turns and going through traffic lights that had led you here, to Simon’s house, you didn’t know why you’d driven here, you had only met him a few times through Johnny and you weren’t even sure he liked you. Alas, you stood hesitantly at his front door, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you try to hold back a sob, trying to hold yourself together as you knock on the door. There’s a minute of silence before Simon opens the door, he’s taken aback when he sees you, your demeanour completely broken with a travel bag by your side. Wordlessly, he opens the door and lets you in.

You sit on the lounge and Simon sits directly across from you, his large sofa feeling brand new as it sits unused in the months he’s gone, doubting he ever has visitors occupying the seat enough to wear it in. “What’s goin on lovie?” Simons blonde eyelashes like through the skull baklava, blue eyes watching you intensely. Through your broken voice you somehow mutter, “he’s cheating on me, Johnny’s cheating on me Simon.” You can see that he’s frowning under the baklava, wrinkles visible under the dark material. “Johnny wouldn’t do that, how’d you figure that?”

You slump into his couch, wishing it would swallow you whole. “He’s been gone every Tuesday since he got back, Tuesday’s we always have movie nights, he’s been gone the whole day and I-“ you take a shaky breath, not wanting to make Simon more uncomfortable, “he’s just been so distant, the way he speaks to me, I feel like I don’t know him.”

“M sorry lovie. Have you told him you’re here?” You shake your head no, and he just nods, “alright, cmon you can take my bed, you ain’t layin on the couch.” You follow Simon down the hall to his bedroom, quietly thank him as he sacrifices his own bed for your comfort, through exhaustion and heartbreak you fall asleep the moment your head hits Simon’s pillow, wishing it smelt like Johnny.

You were awoken to shuffling, muffled yelling and the sound of skin on skin. Your watch reads 12:45am. You turn on the light and rush down the hall and peek around the corner in curiosity. You see Johnny standing at the door shoving Simon. “I know she’s fuckin in here Simon let me in, her cars in the driveway.” Simon shoves Johnny back, pushing him out the doorway. “She don’t wanna see you Johnny. Go home.” Johnny looks around before he starts to shout your name, over and over banging on the open door.

“She sleepin in your bed Simon? You layin with my wife?” The fury in Johnny’s voice sends shivers down your spine, the accusation making you nauseous, it has you furious, the way he would accuse you of cheating when he was the one that was unloyal.

“Rich coming from you Johnny,” you muse from the hallway, your body becoming more visable to Johnny as you step behind your host, Simon tensing up as if to protect you. “Come home with me Bonnie, I can forgive ya.” Johnny had tears in his eyes and you scoff, “I’m not sleeping with Simon, he was on the couch and gave me his bed. Unlike you, gone all day, you’ve been cheating on me.” Johnnys face drops, he knows he has an ultimatum; tell her the truth or hide the secret.

“I ain’t cheating Bonnie.” You cross your arms, “well, what have you been doing?” Johnny shuffles and he can’t meet your eyes, that’s answer enough for you. All you do is shake your head and take off your wedding ring, throwing it at him and it lands on the ground, Johnny scurries to pick it up. “Good night John.” You turn around and break down again, your hands rubbing the bareness that once held your wedding ring.

Your phone was buzzing and ringing so constantly it woke you up, all notifications from Johnny, some texts from Gaz and even Johnny’s ma. You decline the call from johnny and his ma rings, you sigh and answer the phone. “Hey ma.” Your voice is weak and she coos on the other side of the phone. “Oh lass, how are you holding up?” Your lip wobbles, “not good ma. I’m guessing you heard what happened.” The women mumbles to someone before replying, “it’s not what you thinks happening, go back home and Johnny will explain everything, he’s been with me. That’s all I can say right now.” You bite your lip, “okay ma, I’ll do that.” The relief in her voice is evident, “god bless you lass, goodbye sweetheart.” You hang up the phone and gather your things, begging to be wrong that you didn’t just dump your husband when you misread the situation.

Simon was gone when you walk downstairs so you send him a text, you lock his door and get in the car to start the drive, your heart is hammering the whole drive back. You seemed to hit every red light and it made you antsy, your fingers tapping on the steering wheel and legs shaking up and down. Your car comes squealing into the driveway and you have to break harshly to not hit the back of Johnny’s car in the driveway.

You abandon your bag and rush out the door, knocking on the door furiously, the hardness stings your knuckles, your chest is heaving as you see the door open, lowering your hand, to which your knuckles are red and aching. Johnny looks a mess when you see him, hair messy and black bags under his eyes, his face is red and puffy. His blue eyes are dull as he steps to the side to let you in. The first thing you see is the note on the table and alcohol bottles empty beside the note.

“I’ll help ye pack if ye need some help.” The ache that stops your heart from beating is severe at Johnny’s voice. You turn to him and sit him down on his couch, “I’m not here to pack Johnny, I’m here to talk. I wanna know what’s going on, okay? No more secrets.” Johnny’s body loosens from its tense position and he sighs, “you ain’t goin to believe me.” You put a hand on his thigh and his eyes jerk to look at the touch you’re providing, his eyes watering at the bareness of your ring finger. “I’ll believe you Johnny.” You assure softly. “I asked ma to teach me how to bake.” Your eyebrows pinch together as you frown, why would he hide that from you. “I wanted it to be a surprise, I’m retired baby, I want to start a family with you. Was gonna bake an apple pie an tell you over dinner, but I ruined it.”

Your heart skips a few beats, retiring, family? He did this for you. You jump into his lap and bury your face into his shoulder, “oh Johnny I’m so sorry,” your voice breaks as you cry. He holds you to him, scared that if he lets go you’ll disappear, “I’ve ruined everything,” you mumble. Johnny shakes his head, “It’s my fault, I didn’t mean for it to seem like I would ever cheat on you. You’re it for me Bonnie.” You laugh through your tears and put your forehead to his, “you’re really retired, and want a family?” Johnny smiles, “with you Bonnie I want it all.” You soon into his lap, kissing him as your hands cradle his face.

“What happened with the apple pie?” You question, he looks around sheepishly, “burnt it.” He looks over his shoulder and points to the apple pie that’s burnt to a crisp on the kitchen bench. “Why don’t I help you make one hm, we can redo this whole thing,” Johnnys soft lips meet yours, moving against them desperately searching for your love. “Deal, but you gotta put this back on,” he pulls your wedding ring from his pocket and your cheeks flush red with embarrassment as he slides it on your finger, the feeling welcome as it hugs your finger comfortably, “please don’t ever take it off.” You look up from the glistening diamonds and into your husbands ocean eyes, “promise Johnny.”

#Johnny McTavish #cod fic #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #soap x fem reader #Johnny mactavish x fem reader #Simon Riley

257 notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 2 months

Text

They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate.

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded.

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into.

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job.

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in.

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position.

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments.

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room.

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms.

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly.

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked.

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return.

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight.

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back.

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons.

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it.

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone.

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you.

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin.

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath.

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts.

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache.

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew.

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon.

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths.

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone.

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe.

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner.

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly.

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you.

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match.

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning.

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs.

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time.

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face,

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you.

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act.

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain.

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded.

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide.

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons,

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate.

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion.

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched.

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core.

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole.

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done.

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in.

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own.

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony.

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.”

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out.

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again.

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price.

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been.

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant.

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you.

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again.

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation.

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added.

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange.

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval.

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise.

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure.

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole.

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb.

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return.

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover.

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale.

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes.

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him.

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #call of duty mwii #x female reader #x fem!reader #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #the gang's all here

5K notes · View notes

naivegh0ul · 4 months

Text

Boyfriends!Ghost and Soap eating you out but their tongues keep bumping into each other and they end up making out in front of your pussy, causing you to squirm and kick and cry out at having to watch your two hot boyfriends kiss when they could so easily turn their heads and kiss between your legs instead... :)

2K notes · View notes

mitoad · 1 month

Text

everyone always talks about ‘medic reader’ this and ‘teammate reader’ that but what abt weapons engineer/mechanic reader ?

just a silly little fella who helps out the 141 with their weapons when they go out of whack, who works very closely with the team to coordinate certain weapons for specific missions .

they’d probably have a really close bond with soap , both having fun with testing demolitions together . who’s able to add in ideas and carry conversations with you when you ramble on about weapons . johnny pulls you close to him when they get startled from the loud noise of an explosion , laughing a little at how they excuse their sudden vulnerability with ‘not expecting it to be that loud’.

price who seeks them out when he’s having issues with his cm901, having to endure your age-long lectures about not accidentally slamming the barrel to hard. he subconsciously makes sure the brush his hand over yours when he finally retrieves his now-fixed weapon.

yeah nyways weapon mech! reader has my heart

1K notes · View notes

yawnderu · 4 months

Text

CW: Prostitution, hardcore sex, anal sex, threesome, creampie. MDNI.

Prettiest girl in Edinburgh, Johnny often called you when discussing his sex life with Simon, drunkenly sharing way too much information about all the things you do with him in exchange for money.

Simon was never an easily influenced man, always able to hold his ground no matter what. Johnny's rants weren't what drove him to Edinburgh, no, it was pure curiosity after seeing pictures on your socials, given to Johnny in an almost unprofessional display of trust.

I can see why Johnny's so obsessed with you. Half-lidded brown eyes are fully focused on the scene in front of him; Johnny's burly arms underneath your knees, hands holding the back of your neck and forcing you to look down at the way he ravages your ass in a full nelson.

The sight of your tight ass being stretched wide open is enough to make him hard, but he told you both he's not joining on it. It's downright disgusting, he tries to convince himself, calloused hand running up and down his almost painfully hard cock, rubbing the slick precum that seems to be leaking out of his tip like a faucet.

“Show the LT how fuckin' wet you are for 'im, bonnie.” Johnny whispers into your ear, slowing down for a second to adjust you on his cock before he keeps slamming his hips into your ass, fucking into your puckered hole harder and deeper.

You barely manage to make eye contact with Simon, half-lidded eyes barely managing to not roll to the back of your head at the lewd sight in front of you. He looks too good— too fucking good not to be yours. Your hands drift down to your leaking cunt, two fingers opening your wet cunt for him to see the juices dripping down freely, wetting Johnny's cock and balls.

He tries to be strong, he truly does, but you're straight out of a porno, pretty cunt glistening while you give him “fuck me” eyes. Simon is a strong man— but he's not that strong. Like a sailor being lured by a siren, your pretty moans call to him, standing up to his full height and walking to the lewd scene in front of him.

His bared hand goes under your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he starts to rub his hard, veiny cock on your folds, gathering some of your wetness, his other hand gripping your hip tightly as he begins to sink into you. The sensation of your tight, wet cunt wrapping around his dick sends a surge of pleasure through his body, muscles tensing up as he brings you closer.

“You okay, love?” He whispers into your ear, pulling you back against him and thrusting deeper into you with a more forceful motion once you nod your head. The thin wall separating your cunt and ass lets both men feel each other moving within you, the contrast between Johnny's brutal fucking and Simon's gentle love making being the perfect contrast to make you tighten up around their cocks, arms wrapping around Simon's neck while you bring him closer.

Simon groans deeply as your lips eagerly crash against his, both of his hands now gripping your hips tightly, the wetness and tightness of your pussy enveloping him completely as he holds you in place, thrusting into you with deliberate force.

Johnny's grip on you tightens as he sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming into you with each powerful thrust, brutally fucking your tight, warm ass. The sound of your combined moans and the wet slaps of his hips meeting your ass fills the room, fueling your lust and driving the men further into a dominant frenzy. Simon's grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he fucks into you harder, deeper.

“Fuck.” Johnny groans from behind you, voice strained with need.

“Gonna fuckin' cum inside ye, hen.” His voice is laced with desperation and need, throaty moans leaving his lips as he slams into you. With one final, powerful thrust, he spills himself inside your ass, emptying his balls deep inside you.

So many rules are being broken— not using a condom, letting them cum inside, kissing... even threesomes are forbidden, yet both men are so worth it.

Simon sets a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with full force. His groans mix with your whimpers and moans, creating a symphony of raw desire, feeling Johnny letting go of the hold only to wrap his arms around you, holding you in place while his cock softens inside your ass.

Simon's pace quickens, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release, bringing you in for another messy, needy kiss to muffle his own moans. He's lost in the moment, fully consumed by the primal need to claim you. As his thrusts become more frenzied, he can feel the familiar coil of pleasure building deep within him.

His hips jerk uncontrollably as he empties his heavy balls deep inside your needy cunt, being milked by you when he feels your orgasm hit you as well, whiny moans spilled into his mouth. He pants heavily, his grip on your hips loosening as he comes down from his intense release.

Both men carefully pull out of you, setting your tired body down in bed before you're being pulled to a hairy chest you're very familiar with— Johnny's. He plants soft kisses on your forehead, tired words of praise leaving his lips in the form of whispers meant only for you to hear. You feel a stronger pair of arms wrapping around you from behind, your flush pressing against Simon's firm chest as he buries his face on your hair, letting out a deep sigh of exhaustion.

He's definitely visiting Edinburgh again, with or without Johnny. Maybe even make a private Instagram account to talk to you, too.

1K notes · View notes

eilidh-eternal · 4 months

Text

Metanoia - The journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life.

Ao3

You meet your neighbor You need a favor You go to dinner You have a secret You make a promise You don’t like silence You learn the truth You keep your promise You return a favor You need a date You go to tea You meet a ghost

Main Masterlist

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

#john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x you #soap mactavish x you #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x female reader #soap x reader #soap x you #soap x fem reader #soap x female reader

1K notes · View notes

chaosandmarigolds · 13 days

Text

What I find funny is that if Simon's girlfriend was apart of the 141st, ie: mechanic!reader (I must write it, screw chemistry) is that Johnny and you would be best friends

Take turns tormenting him especially

"Hold on- Simon bleaches his hair?"

"uhhh yea', ya didn'ae kno that? ha! wellll it's gun be purple no'."

So you do have to contain your laughter when your boyfriend walks out of the bathroom, expressionless, his hands stained purple and the messy mob a lavender shade (he caught on early enough to realize)

or how Johnny would sit with you when Simon was inbriefingss, becoming basically brother.

Price though Simon and Johnny were a pain on the coms? Add you to the mix and it's just

🫧 "OI FUCK ME."

👻 "Rather not, Johnny."

Of course that was the perfect time to tune in, "Aw Johnny you were just rejected by your boyfriendddd."'

Of course group therapy sessions which were mandated after certain missions were fun because it was just,

(you, with tears of laughter) "He just fell out of it."

Johnny also almost dying, "ike a fairy."

"he was fairy!!" (both dying of laughter, almost falling over in their seats.)

The therapist, to Kyle, "How are you holding up?"

Date nights? Might as well be throple because Johnny is probably gonna tag along- will leave half way through with some girl but it starts off with three.

(annnyway, that's all! love comments, feedback and hearing your ideas, toodaloo!)

#simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod fluff #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #coco's chaos <3 #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod soap #soap fluff #soap x reader #x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x fem!reader #x mechanic!reader #simon riley x mechanic!reader

629 notes · View notes

brewed-pangolin · 2 months

Text

Soap MacTavish loves to make you laugh during sex. Yes, he adores your smile and the way your eyes light up. Almost as much as when you clench around him while he's buried deep into your silken heat.

#soap after dark thoughts #soap squad™️#i might make this a thing #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap smut #cod soap smut #soap x you #soap x fem reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x fem reader #call of duty #cod

538 notes · View notes

victoria-grimesss · 8 months

Text

Call the Doctor, I'm in Love

masterlist

->Paring: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Medic!Fem!Reader

->Words: 2.9k

->Warning: fluff & angst, mentions of injury/wounds

->Summary: Soap has a big ol crush on you, he’s not sneaky or quiet about it. Here are the many times he’s fantasized about you and the one time you answered his dreams.

->A/N: a little something because I love Foap!

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish is a pretty guy, a hunk if you will and he knows it. He has no troubles with the ladies and is highly experienced but he always feels like he’s lacking something, someone. Until you came along, pretty new medic. You’re his favorite. He always goes to you for a patch up even waiting for medical help until you come back from break. Johnny is a saint, he is a patient and giving man.

But he wants you, desperately. He’s got a big fat crush and he’s not quiet about it. The 141 is exhausted hearing about what you did today and that Soap thinks you looked dreamy today, stitching up his arm. He saw you look at him a little extra that means you want to be with him right? They can’t wait until you either reject the poor fool or take him on a bloody date. Here are the times poor Mactavish has swooned over you:

The 1st Time: Your Introduction

Soap has found himself head over heels for you. He first saw you in the medical tent after him and an enemy went headfirst over a steep rockwall, he was fine of course, seems like that guy can bounce back from anything, you had nursed him back to health and he was done for. Your caring words and gentle hands were all he wanted now. And imagine his surprise and excitement when you became the team's new task-force medic.

“Alright team I hope you read over the file, we got a new member to our team. She's going to be our medic but don’t worry she can hold our own on the field. She’s reliable and damn good at her job. We’ve had too many close calls lately and I don’t want anyone dying of something that could have been prevented.”

Price ends his introduction and you greet your way around the room, everyone is nice enough for tuff military men. You find yourself sitting next to John, or Soap, or sometimes Johnny depending on who you ask. He’s a good looking guy, as are the rest in the room but you have a job to do so you don’t plan on messing up your place on the team by intermingling with one of them.

“Aye lass, do you carry one of those stethoscope things around with ya?”

He’s leaning on one arm, checking out the equipment you had brought with you.

“I usually keep it in the office, why is something wrong?”

You’re looking him over for anything obvious but nothing sounds any alarm.

“Ah no, it’s just my heart… it’s acting funny, beats a little faster when you come around.”

He’s smiling and you laugh not expecting a bad pick-up line but seems like he’s that kind of guy.

“I see. Well might want to try working on your cardio then that’ll improve that heart rate of yours.”

He pauses, thinking of what to say next to lure you in.

“You like bars doctor?”

“Not particularly..”

“Would ya mind joining me, I hate drinking alone.”

You smile, amused.

“Why not one of the other boys, someone you’re more familiar with.”

You’re looking into your bag and he drops his head lower so you’ll look him in the eyes.

“I’d like to be more familiar with you bonnie.”

You stop and put your hands on your hips pretending to think.

“Well I’m not so interesting, just a doctor after all. I’m sure Gaz would love to join you, you two seem the best of friends.”

He seems a little discouraged when you don’t play into his game but he looks at the small smile that plays on your lips and knows he’s just gotta keep trying. You won’t shake him off that easily.

—

The 2nd Time: The Flu Incident

Flu season. Your favorite time of the year, your inner monologue drips with sarcasm as you scrub your hands raw for the sixth time today. It’s late afternoon and the sun dips over the horizon as the rooms are casted with a honey soaked orange glow. The murmurs from the outside hallway peak your interest and you dry your hands and exit to the hall.

“I told you MacTavish I can help you just as easily as any other nurse or doctor, just come into my office and we’ll get you fixed up.”

An older more seasoned nurse has her hands on her hips, gaze pointed at Soap with a motherly disapproved look at her face. You step out of the room tossing the paper towel into the bin.

“Troubled patient?”

Soap lifts his head at your voice and he smiles, voice nasally and strained.

“Ah there ya are bonnie, been waiting for you. Think you can fix me?”

“You’d be in better hands with her you know? Unlike me she knows what she’s doing.”

Your tone is playful and Johnny stands weakly, hand on the wall.

“Yea but you’re my favorite, can’t feel better unless it’s you.”

The other nurse is called away shooting you a good luck look with her eyes, no doubt happy to not have to deal with the sickly man.

“Alright Johnny whatever you say. Let’s get you to a bed.”

“You’re a real saint hen.”

You place a steady hand on his back leading him to the bed in your office, away from the overflow so he can hopefully get some rest.

“Alright Johnny go ahead and lay down I’ll get your temp and let’s see if we can break that fever alright?”

He groans as he lays down obviously dealing with joint pain from the flu, it’s a nasty one that’s hit the base this time.

You run a washcloth under cool water, grab your thermometer, and sit next to him making sure he’s comfortable. You take his temp and frown,

“Give it to me straight doctor, am I going to make it?”

He grips your hand dramatically and you laugh while patting his hand.

“I think you’ll just scrape by, it’ll be close though.”

“Oh thank heavens. Guess you’ll just have to take extra close care of me right?”

He’s giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes again as you place the washcloth on his forehead and place the back of your hand on his cheek to feel the temp there as well.

“I guess since I’m part of your team now I’ll have to make sure you live, so yes. I will take extra good care of you.”

You smile at him softly, you don’t like seeing anyone sick but sick Soap reminds you of a kicked puppy.

You miss the way his eyes shine up at you as you chart his info. How the thoughts in his head are those of you and him on dates, what ring he will propose to you with, where you’ll honeymoon and various other daydreams he has swirling around. He would do anything for you to be his, he would capture the stars for you.

You get up from your chair to put his info into the computer and he looks at the sad flowers on the side table, shriveled and needing to be tossed.

“These flowers aren't lookin so good.”

You glance over and frown.

“Oh yeah, it’s been so busy lately I haven't had a chance to replace them yet.”

He hums and you walk back over to him and give him some painkillers and electrolyte drink mix.

“Take these and get some rest please, it’ll do you good.”

He sits up, eyes on you as he takes the pills, handing you the little cup back.

“I’ll get you some new flowers, take you out too.”

You’re facing away from him, a smile gracing your features.

“Johnny, I-”

“You don’t have to say yes now lass, just please, for the sake of my well-being think on it.”

You move over to him and dab the cloth onto his cheeks and cool down his pulse points, heart growing slightly as you reply.

“Sure Johnny, I’ll think about it. Now sleep, doctor's orders.”

He sleeps quietly next to you as you finish your charting. The sight of him so calm warms your heart and it scares you a little bit, you wouldn't want to throw off the balance of the team or make any weird power dynamics by falling for him but he makes it harder and harder.

The next week fresh flowers are left on the side table.

—

The 3rd Time: Award Ceremony Ball

Dressed to the nines each of you are. A very successful mission rewarded the whole team with a variety of medals and everyone was looking very nice all cleaned up.

Your dress was a floor gown with a slip up the leg and your back was exposed, the dress felt so silky and it was nice to not be covered in blood for once. Although you did manage to spill some kind of fancy jam on it and you were frantically dabbing at it with water when you were interrupted with Soap meeting up with you.

“Well don’t you look nice.”

He’s lively tonight, eyes bright with optimism after the job and sporting brand new chest candy to show off.

Your eyes drift up from the new stain on your dress to him and he, well he looks damn good. A new pink scar graces his jawline but it looks good on him, he can wear scars well.

“Thank you, you clean up well yourself too.”

“Ah bonnie don’t make me blush now.”

The rest of the team is chatting at a nearby table, Price is nursing a short glass of something dark, Gaz is going to town on the amazing food, and Ghost is engaged in conversation with the two of them.

“You wanna head back to the table?”

You offer, he shakes his head and offers his hand.

“I ask the fine lady to a dance.”

You blush, never asked to dance before, the ballroom floor filled with experts, couples swirling to the melody in the air.

You stew on it for a moment, and put your hand in his.

“Ok but if I fall you fall with me okay?”

“Always.”

Your hands are intertwined, one of his is on your waist and yours is on his shoulder. You both try to copy what the others do and the messy dance combined with the flutes of champagne you both consumed makes for quite the site. The mess of bumping feet and unsteady movements.

“For a sergeant you’re rather uncoordinated MacTavish.” Your laugh is light.

“I didn’t go to fuckin dance school, certainly didn’t learn this in the marines that’s for sure. What, did they teach this in medical school?”

“Does it look like they did? I can stitch up a bullet wound but lord help me I can't dance for shit.”

You bump into him again and his grip tightens slightly.

“I got ya bonnie.”

He could be living in a dream right now, you in such a pretty dress adorned in your well deserved medals, him with his. You’re gripping his shoulder and he’s got you in his arms, he can smell your perfume and see the small hairs out of place as the two of you spin but he loves it all the same. He wants it all the same.

“Johnny. Can you hear me?”

He blinks harshly, really sinking back in. You’re not his right now, he can’t take you back to his place after this and kiss each part of you, unzip the dress and let his fingers graze over the skin that's revealed to him. Watch how you move under the moonlight as he touches you just as he imagined. Not yet.

“Yea?”

“I said I think Gaz just devoured his fourth bowl of that dip I wanted to try.”

“Must be good then, should we head over before he finishes it all?”

You laugh and agree.

“Thank you for the dance MacTavish, you made me feel less silly for not knowing what I’m doing.”

His eyes sparkle at your admiration.

“I’m always happy to help.”

—

The 4th Time: Yes

This mission could not have been more fucked up. Shrapnel flies and bullets whiz by. The air is cold but your body is so hot, on fire from the adrenaline.

The coms are staticy and choppy but you can make out the team.

An undercover mission with Soap had you outside a pretty nice villa at dusk. It was meant to pose as a couple on a retreat to gain intel from an organization nearby but all hell had broken loose. You're cornered and Soap had been down to three bullets and you at two until you were able to take down someone else and gain the upper hand.

Communication with the team was hard, they had sent for backup now you just had to wait.

And Soap is shot.

He has taken a bullet for you and you’re frantic.

“Fuck Johnny, shit.”

He grimaces as you rip your bag off of your back to grab for first aid. It’s not enough though, you had to pack light and it’s not enough.

“Stupid ass job, told them to find a way to get more equipment.”

You’re more muttering to yourself, ripping things out of the small bag you were allotted to patch him up.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

Johnny laughs and it sends him into a coughing fit, the bullet is in his side. You pray it hasn't done permanent damage but the gravel in his cough scares the hell out of you.

“Hold on Johnny, I’m gonna get you fixed up alright, just stay still.”

A bullet nearly misses your head and he shoots back hitting the guy before clutching his side again.

“You think that’s all of them?”

“Fucking hope so, I need- I have to clean it.”

He’s strong, so strong and sweet and kind and nice and charming and you can’t lose him.

Not when you know you want him now. That you need him now.

“Gonna lift your shirt ok? Just watch your breathing.”

“Aye, not even going to take me to dinner first.”

Your eyes are blurry as tears slip down, first one the two.

He wipes them away, his blood smearing onto your face and you choke back a sob.

“C’mon bonnie, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

His voice grows weaker the more he speaks and you beg him to stop, but he rambles.

He talks about how each morning he wakes up to see if you’re up yet. He waits for you at the gym, always goes to you when he feels unwell, gushes to the rest of the team about you when you’re not around.

He flirts openly with you and what a fool you’ve been to not reciprocate fully, to reel into him.

The needle breaks his skin and his eyes grow heavy, the blood is still flowing freely and you almost feel it rushing out of you as well.

“I’m so sorry Johnny.”

You stitch and wipe and repeat. It’s a gaping wound and it makes you sick seeing it on him.

You’re so focused on stitching him you don’t notice when his eyes close. His breathing is shallower now.

Your eyes race around his face, head now slumped to the side.

You wipe the wound, it’s not good but it should be ok. Heavy on should.

Your hand, coated in blood cups his cheek, shaking.

“Johnny?”

You move his head, it's heavy in your hands and your breathing hurts now.

You get closer, enough to press his forehead to yours and you inhale his smell.

You hold cloth to his wound to try to stop the bleeding and you whisper promises to him if he will just pull through.

Your lips are so close to his that when your tears roll down your face they roll off your nose onto his lips.

The hand that cups his cheek feels his pulse on his neck and it’s quiet and slow. It’s so silent here now.

“I’m so sorry Johnny. I love you. Fuck I love you so much I just didn’t want to mess anything up. Please don’t leave yet.

You lips touch his softly, like if you pressed any harder he would shatter.

“Could have- could have told me all that before I was dying yea?”

He laughs weakly, his smile cracking the corner of his lips. You cup his face fully now, careful to remove your hand from the wound but you applied enough pressure by now the blood has coagulated some.

“You mean all that?” His eyes are heavy but he still looks at you with that same shining he always did.

“Yes, god yes. I just didn't want to mess up the team dynamic but I don’t care anymore, you just have to pull through alright then let's go out.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Blades of the helicopter sound nearby cutting through the silence.

“Just hold on Johnny we’re gonna get you patched up. Then I want to see you in that suit again.”

“Anything for you bonnie.”

—

He recovered well with you by his side of course. You dressed his wound properly and gave him a kiss to make it heal faster he would say. Then two weeks later he showed up in a suit with flowers at your office door. The rest is history, but the team is much happier not listening to Soap’s rambling about you but they are happy nonetheless.

2K notes · View notes

miwsolovely · 1 month

Text

—WALLS AND HAZE

pairing: outlaw!farmer!141 x fem!reader

series masterlist taglist (closed.) next

contains: implication of abuse + rape, sexism, cheater husband, rumors about reader are being spread, (implications that) reader is called mean things here :( (whore, brothel woman), husband is an asshole.

summary: meal for a king.

wc: 4.3k

a/n: u guys were hungry huh

a/n 2: this is an outlaw 141 set in the 1800s, which i was not born in so mind the inaccuracies ! ( reader is so oblivious in here im crying but shes so cute )

a/n 3: firm believer that simon n johnny look like this in this series🫶🏾

You wished the walls could talk.

Wished they were one big spiderweb of networks, all connected, so that they would see what was happening to you and tell the world.

Wished people cared like you wished the walls would. Coming to your aid and mending you, body and soul. Holding you up when you can’t hold yourself.

But the walks can’t talk. They can only stay silent and watch. Feel your pain and sorrow and the feeling of your body being pushed against the way, beaten, bruised, broken, taken.

And the walls don’t care. No matter how much you wail and stain the floor with your never ending tears, tears so abundant and filled with grief, the clouds cry for you whenever you can’t. Eyes too red and dried out to do anything but watch and feel as your heart, your bones, your soul breaks.

The walls can listen too. Listen to your cries as you beg to be free, listen to your frustrations, your pains. But no words of comfort come from them. No kiss goodnight, no hugs overflowing with love or kindness. Just silence.

The man who you’re married to, the man who lifted your veil and said your vows, “for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

That man was asleep in your bed with another woman.

Asleep dreaming of her, kissing her, making love to her.

When it was supposed to be you. He’s married to you, she’s supposed to be the other woman. Not you. Not you indeed, the one with the ring, the ring he used kissed each night before bed, on your finger.

But he made it very clear that it was indeed you, who is the other woman. Letting her wear your clothes, clothes that he bought for you wrapped in colorful paper and sealed with fake words of love and promises.

You overheard some talk about him buying her a ring as well.

Heard him going over a trip for them to New York.

Planned for the day of your anniversary.

In all honesty, you just wanted out of this God forsaken house, this town.

So you decide it’s time to look for a new house.

But you can’t. The world is as cruel as your husband and women can’t buy or own anything unless their husband buys it.

Women can’t do anything, unless their husband is there with them.

The only thing you can do is sit on your loveseat and realize why women kill.

The man selling meat seemed nice.

He was rough though, you could tell by the way he looked and the way he carried himself. He was a big man as well. Easily towering over the mini crowd of women fawning over him.

You try your best to, gently but firmly, push through the crowd of women to get to the front counter where the man was cutting meat for a customer.

“Excuse me,” You mummer trying to walk around the woman shamelessly showing off her cleavage to the man as she leans on the counter.

She turns around at the sound of your voice and her elbow jams against your ribcage with how fast she did the action.

You flinched and held your middle, the corset you were wearing doing nothing but causing you more pain. The woman looked at you as if you stained the bottom of her shoes. “Be patient and wait in line.” She scoffs. She was about to turn back around to the man still chopping the meat on the counter, his eyes slightly raised to meet yours then anothers’ behind you, but another voice, accented and heavy, interrupted her.

“If Ye’re not gonnae buy anythin’, leave.”

You turn and almost crash face first with a hard chest. You look up and meet crystalline eyes. A color you’d never seen before outside the sky. The sea you’d yet to see but if you had, the waves would roar with jealousy.

The man gives you a wink and starts to walk by you towards the man behind the counter, completely ignoring the woman trying to seduce them both now, but stops midway and looks back at you, as if urging you to follow him.

You pause and were about to follow, but then, you notice the multiple pairs of eyes on you.

The women point and whisper at you. Likely spreading more false accusations against you.

“Look, it’s Mrs. Fitzroy. Shouldn’t she be tending to that husband of hers?”

“I heard she was trying to change her surname.”

“I heard she’s sleeping with the man selling apples at the market.”

“Good heavens! I thought she was sleeping with the fletcher down at Browns?”

“An’ I coulda sworn I saw ye spreadin’ yer legs for that blacksmith off on Hickory?” The man said. Lifting a finger to the woman who accused you of sleeping with a man you’ve never met, the fletcher, pointing her out.

A small smile, you notice, lifts the man behind the counter’s eyes, revealing his crows feet.

One of the women scoff. “A man so beautiful, yet such an ugly mouth…”

A cleaver comes down heavily, and startles the women still around the counter. “You women are so bratty,” He stares them down. His brown eyes turning black with… hate? “you lot make your own children jealous.”

Gasps of offense can be heard from ten miles down. The women act hurt as if their mothers mother were insulted, and one by one they file out the butcher’s shop after giving the two men their best glares.

You follow them with your eyes. And then, silence fills the room like a void expanding, swallowing up sound and leaving only a hushed stillness in its wake.

“Thought they were never gonnae leave.” The man with the blue eyes says. He scratches his stubble and faces you again, a smile lifting his face. “What do ye need lass? Or did ye come ‘ere jus’ for a peek at us?”

You feel your face grow hot as he flirts with you. When was the last time a man flirted with you, you couldn’t remember.

“I, well — I came to ask if you had, or have, Sirloin..?” You ask.

You noticed, that the moment you opened your mouth, the man with the rich brown eyes stopped his cutting of the meat in favor of looking at you, though it looked like he was looking through you at times, into your soul, and the man with the unique but beautiful accent had his eyes trained on you, as if drinking you in.

“Sirloin?” The man behind the counter questioned. He raised a scarred eyebrow. “Trying to make a feast fit for a king, lovie?” His voice is rough and deep, suits him well, you think.

You took a steadying breath. “No, no just dinner for my, husband. Our um — anniversary is in a few days.” You admit. Though you think you sounded sad, you didn’t mind it. You could tell the two men saw through you and noticed your unhappiness as well. Seven years with a monster will do that to you.

The man with the blue eyes hummed, something deep and rich that made you feel unsteady on your feet. “Congrats lass,” He nods his head at you. “Name’s John, this bloke ‘ere is Simon.” He nods his head and points a lone, thick finger towards the man behind the counter.

You offer them a timid smile and bow your head, your fingers finding and fixing invisible wrinkles on your dress.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” You say. You tell them your name and hide your shiver when the man behind the counter, Simon, says your name as if tasting it. It comes of his tongue like a melted honey similar to his eyes.

“Sirloin, yeah?” He looks up at you as he cleans the blood off his knife, dyeing the white handkerchief in his large hand red. When you nod after shifting your attention to his eyes, he continues. “Give me a second then, love.”

With that, he disappears through a door adjacent to the counter he was previously behind, most likely the meat locker, leaving you and John alone.

“Those women give you trouble all the time lass?”

You startle with how close his voice sounds to your ear. You turn to your side and look up to see him nearly standing chest to chest with you.

“Oh—no, no only when I see them or, or the other way around…” You say with a nervous smile. Looking down at his broad chest rather than his eyes after seeing how he looked at you with something akin to longing. When you take a step back nervously, his warm, large hand finds home on your waist, keeping you in place.

“Well if they give ye any trouble,” John says, lifting a finger to your chin and raising it so your eyes met his. “Ye’ll let us know then, hm?”

Will you? Will you let these strange, men help you when you need it? It was tempting, it is tempting, but again, these are strangers. Walking around the town with unknown men at your hips will raise even more rumors about you and your private life. People in the town will speak and words travel fast in your small town.

You want to say no, that you can handle yourself, but this man, he’s leading you into a field of roses that tempt you into his awaiting hands.

What you couldn’t see, was that behind the rose colored glasses, was a field of rot and sorrow that would follow if you obliged.

However the smell of roses and pine led you further and further into him and after a few minutes, you found yourself nodding, your words dying on your tongue.

John smiles at you, and his smile only grows wider when you step away from him as is burned when you hear Simon’s heavy footsteps.

When he opens the door, you notice the big sack he’s carrying over his shoulders, though almost the size of his broad shoulders, he makes it look like he’s carrying a feather.

You also notice that it looks bigger than what you ordered.

Simon places the sack on the counter and double checks the rope knotted at the top, making sure it's sturdy and won’t open. "Made sure to double the sack so it wouldn't leak," He says. When he looks at you, he notices the expression on your face. "Somethin' wrong lovie?"

John, still next to you pipes up. "Looks alrigh’ to me." You step up to the counter and run your fingers up your arm, a calming sensation to you. "Well, that's — It just, looks, more than what I ordered?"

Simon blinks. John smiles wider.

“Consider it an apology for dealing with those, women.” Simon drawls. He picks up the sack and walks the length of the counter to stand before you and John.

“An’ a thank ye for dealin’ with ‘im.” John says throwing a wink your way.

“I—” You sigh. “Fine, then how much do I owe you?” You start the motion of reaching for your wallet in your satchel. About to open it, John’s hand stops you midway.

“Consider it on the house hen, couldnae let a pretty lass like ye pay after what ye jus’ went through.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—please, the meat’s expensive and, and you gave me more than what I asked—not that that’s a bad thing but still—” You worry, and in the midst of that worry you don’t see the sweet smile rising on Simon’s face as he looks at you. The way John’s hand hovered over the curve of your waist, the lightest of touches just barely enough to satisfy him, but enough to keep your veil covering your eyes.

“Jus’ let us take you home love.” Simon says while stepping closer to you, caging you in between him and John whose hand now pressed against your waist, firm. “Can’t let a lady like you dirty her hands carryin’ this now, hm?” He says, shrugging his shoulders to prove his point, the sack already moistening with the blood of the meat inside.

Your hand, you realize, is still captured in John’s warm grip, calloused and rough, but gentle all the same.

You open your mouth, about to object, but John’s hand moved to and grew firm on your waist, urging you to obey, daring you to say no.

So you sigh, nod your head, and tell them your address.

The drive there is, pleasant. John sat in the back with you as Simon drove, the sack holding the meat sat next to him in the passenger seat. The scent of the meat was close to nothing, as Simon did say he doubled the sack. You’ll make sure to thank him later.

By the time you arrived at your house, it was close to eight o’clock. Around the time your husband would come home from work. If he even bothered to come home at all.

“Here I am.” You say eyeing the house. Stained with years of pain and sadness.

“Beautiful house you have here darlin’” Simon says as you unlock the front door, allowing them in.

Your heart beats faster and you feel as if this is a mistake.

“Thank you, Simon.” You offer a small smile. “Oh, you can put that in the freezer in the cellar. Here let me—”

“It’s alrigh’ bonnie, let ‘im handle it.” John says. His hand, once again, finding the curve of your waist.

“Ah, okay. . .” You say, and when you look in his eyes, you realize the haze you’re feeling right now, the haze these men are creating, you forget where you are, who’s last name you’re carrying.

“Would you—” You take a deep breath and you’re sure John can feel it. “Would you like something to drink John? Water or?” You say already walking to your fridge in your kitchen, already missing the warmth of his hand.

“Water’s fine bun, An’ call me Johnny, ‘John’ makes me feel as old as Price.” John, Johnny, says, following you to the kitchen and accepting the water bottle you offer him.

“Price?” You tilt your head in confusion. “Who’s that?”

John shakes his head with a smile. “No one, ye’ll meet him soon.”

If that sentence was supposed to quell your curiosity, it only fed the beast. “What is that supposed to—”

“All done.”

Simons voice, his deep voice, causes you to jump. You turn to face him and find him staring at Johnny, an unreadable expression on his face.

You clear your throat, feeling the tension. “Thank you, Simon. I really appreciate your help.” Whatever conversation Simon and Johnny were having, in a language only they know, it seemed to snap Simon back into reality and he looked down to meet your eyes, his own immediately softening.

“It’s not a problem love.” He says. And when he turns his face to the side with his hand rubbing at his neck, probably embarrassed, you notice a pink tint to his cheeks.

“Ach, an’ where’s my “thank you”? I did more than this wee bairn.” Johnny whines. You notice he looks more like a puppy than a man, pouting and all.

You laugh and hide your mouth with your fingers. “Thank you, Johnny.” You say.

Johnny, while feeling appreciated now, noticed you hiding your pretty lips when you laughed or smiled.

He’d change that. They all would.

Five minutes turned into fifteen, fifteen turned into hours, hours turned into talking while trying to act like everything was normal, like you weren’t sandwiched between two men you invited in your house, all to deliver meat to be cooked for your anniversary.

You were still in the kitchen, sitting on a stool that accompanied the island and Simon and Johnny occupied the seats to the left and right of yours.

You were all talking about nothing and everything. Your favorite foods, what you liked and disliked, you, you, you.

You tried to shift the conversation to them, tried to ask them a question, but all they gave you were either blunt, vague answers or an excuse saying “our lives aren’t as exciting.”

As if you could call yours that. Years spent behind these four walls, cooking, cleaning, having to endure your husband’s verbal and unfortunately physical abuse, the townspeople, it was anything but exciting. Anything but everything bad.

But these men, they clung onto every word that escaped your lips as if you were a God. Their eyes never left your form, and their hands touched you as if you were made of glass.

You felt Simon’s hand brush against yours and you knew and felt Johnnys' eyes and hands on you constantly, as if past your face, your eyes, your skull they were picking away at your brain, peering into your memories and cradling your heart in theirs.

Your body felt hot. Overwhelmingly so, but also in a way that you'd only felt once upon a dream with your husband; before everything went to shit, before your hands seemed to taint everything it touched in his eyes, before the withering flowers and declarations of false love. You don’t know what to do anymore, don’t want to become the woman the entire town believed you to be, an impure lady, the type of woman who belongs in a brothel, a whore. It's not what you were, not what you are.

The sound of a car, your husbands' car, pulling into the driveway almost halted their movements.

Almost because even when you walked away from the kitchen, from them, to wait and greet your husband when he enters through the door, their touches and eyes still lingered, still left a warm phantom touch on your skin.

Your trance broke when you heard the key in the lock of the front door, the sound of your husband’s voice cursing when he realized it was the wrong key before he tried again.

You heard Simon and Johnny standing and you were glad because they were acting as if they were just about to leave. You looked back at them and saw Johnny raising his pointer finger to his lips and sending another wink to you, Simon’s eyes smiling at you, piercing your heart.

You fight the heat rising to your cheeks and turned to smile at your husband, who just entered the house.

He paid you no mind however, taking his coat off and throwing it into your arms, his briefcase hitting your foot and toppling on the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room.

He marched up to the men, the intruders, in his mind, and stood chest to chest with Simon, locking eyes with Johnny and looking at him with disgust, he turned and met the hard, charcoal eyes of Simon and matched his glare.

“And who the fuck are you?”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

TAGLIST.

@the-faceless-bride @chickennn-soupp @starabigail @drenix004 @dogboyfoe @lostintro @tonylagsagne @sobasicallyimpoppee @ahervyn @ghostlythots @flowerloversthings @sugar-brains @midnights-song @poohkie90

if your name is in white, that means I can’t tag you and you need to check your settings (on this app) !!

417 notes · View notes

yawnderu · 2 months

Note

Which cod character would send his penis pic after three days of chatting? And why is that keegan

HJEFGHEFEF yes. But also: Soap MacTavish.

He'd test the waters the first day after he got your number, pictures of his gym progress that reveal a lot more than they should, big burly arms flexed for the camera, making the thick veins stand out more than usual.

On day 2 he's being more daring, sending you shirtless pictures he took after his shower at the gym on base, the towel hanging low from his hips, showing you his defined v-line and a happy trail of dark, thick hair.

If your responses are positive, Johnny would grow the balls to ask if you want to see more after one too many mirror pictures that are downright slutty, secretly hoping that they'll never get out to the public.

It only takes a few seconds for him to pull his veiny, hard cock out of his sweatpants, balls hanging low with nothing but pure need to release, snapping a few pictures and videos just for you as he strokes his throbbing cock, his tip leaking precum like a broken faucet.<3

532 notes · View notes

captainfern · 6 months

Text

141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part Two - Crush •

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - you're getting used to your new job now, and have a knowledge of player's injuries. but the scrum-half insists it's more than just his leg that needs attention lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 5.5k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, slow-ish burn [but not really cause ik you're here for the porn], soap's an absolute menace, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation?, brief discussion of oral [m!receiving], light degradation/dumbification but only if you squint tbh, praise, strong language

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

Soap is a scrum-half, or half-back – has a wide set of skills, kicks and passes well, and is generally the smallest on the team. this position tends to work the best under pressure.

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

<- part one | part three ->

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

You wake bright an early the next morning, the sunlight streaming through your window and bathing you in warm golden light. You stretch, joints popping, back shifting out of sleep-mode.

You ready yourself for the day, manage to eat a small amount of breakfast, and then you're out the door– the sun hovering above the horizon and reflecting onto the city below.

You're one of the first to arrive at work, as per usual. It's unusually quiet. The players usually bring the noise once they all start arriving a few hours later. So you hum to yourself as you walk down the award-lined hallway, passing by the coaches door and seeing light peeking out from beneath it. He's the first at work, before you.

You round the slight corner, juggling the files and your lunchbox in your hands, as well as your favourite choice of beverage for that time in the morning, while you wriggle your keys out of your pocket. You look up at your door, and almost drop your things in fright.

The scrum-half of the team leans against the wall beside your door, scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone. He looks up when he hears you approaching, a broad smile passing over his face. He pockets his phone and kicks himself off the wall as you walk over, your heart still beating a bit faster than normal after that unexpected fright.

"Mornin', doc," he smiled, then held out his hands. "You need a hand."

"Oh!" You hand your files and your lunch over to him, now finding it significantly easier to slot your key into the keyhole. "Thanks, Johnny."

When you twist the key, it unlocks, and Johnny beats you to it– pushing the door open for you and sliding his hand inside to flick on the light. He then stood aside, allowing you to walk in as the lights beamed on.

"After you." He smiled, and you smiled back, walking into your office. It was cold and dark, so after placing your keys and your travel cup on your desk, you moved to open the curtains and then turn on the heater in the corner of the room. Johnny followed in behind you, placing your files and lunch neatly on your desk, before looking around your office with a small quirk in his lips.

You pulled the curtains and allowed golden sunlight to stream in. You then passed a look over your shoulder. "You know... your appointment’s not for another forty minutes, Johnny."

"I know," he shrugged as you moved to the heater to turn it on. "I just figured you'd probably want to get it out of the way, right?"

You laughed. "Not necessarily. It is my job."

Johnny smiled. "Well, I'm glad you don't want to get it over and done with then, eh?"

You turned from the heater, catching his sly grin and the flirtatious tone in his voice. You ignore it with a roll of your eyes, before pointing to the medical table on the other side of your office. Johnny got the memo, hobbling across the room and scooting himself back up onto the table.

You grabbed his file from your desk and walked over to him, thumbing through the pages.

"Right, so you've pulled a muscle in your calf, correct?"

"Yes ma'am," Johnny said, twisting to lie on his stomach, but looking over his shoulder so he could see you. "My right one."

"And you did it at training the day before yesterday?" You questioned him again, placing your files to the side and opening one of the cabinets, pulling out a bottle of cool, muscle rub gel.

You approached the table and unscrewed the cap as he continued speaking. "Yeah, pulled it coming out of a ruck."

"What's the pain like?"

"Not too bad, but still unpleasant."

"So it's definitely not a tear then, which is good." You said, squeezing a generous amount of the gel onto Johnny's calf. He flinched at the cold.

"So that means... it's probably just a strain?" Johnny asked, no longer looking over his shoulder. Instead, he had folded his arms and was now resting his head over them.

You began to smooth the gel over the surface of his calf, gently at first. "Most likely. They're very common."

Johnny grunted when your grip hardened– a firm massage into the skin, feeling for the muscles that were causing him the most discomfort.

"Does that mean, you know, because it isn't a serious injury, that I won't be able to come in here as much?"

You rolled your eyes. "Very funny." Your thumb then pressed down on an inflamed patch of skin, feeling a particularly tender strain of muscle beneath the thin layer of flesh. Johnny let out a low groan, and you quickly apologised as you lightened your touch.

You spent a couple of minutes working your fingers and thumb around the injury. Not too hard, like a proper massage, as the injury was still fresh. But you got a feel of the strain on the muscles, and you moved away to wash the gel from your hands.

"What's the diagnosis, doc?" Soap asked as you scrubbed the gel from your hands.

"Oh my god," you shook your head in disbelief. "What is with you boys and calling me doc?"

Soap cracked a smile, though you couldn't see him do it. "It's 'cause you're our doc."

"I'm a physiotherapist, Johnny."

"Same thing."

You shook your head in disbelief again, drying your hands and moving to scribble down a few things on Johnny's file. Your eyes lingered on the top for a moment, and you laughed behind closed lips. Johnny heard you, turning around and sitting up, his head cocked to the side like a curious puppy.

"What're you laughing at?" He asked, trying to get a peek at your files.

You tapped the tip of your pen to the top of the page you were writing on. "How'd you get a nickname like Soap?"

Johnny smiled. "Oh, that! S'cause I'm slippery like that, doc. Hard to catch on the field."

You blew out an unimpressed sigh, moving back to your cabinets and taking out a new tube of gel– this time, Voltarol. You spoke to him as you unscrewed the cap and walked back towards the table. "That's a stupid nickname and– turn back onto your stomach for me, thanks– I find it hard to believe everyone calls you that."

Johnny twisted himself back around to offer you his calf. He laughed. "It's a popular name 'round here, doc. Not many of the lads call me Johnny."

You piped a small amount of the Voltarol gel onto the back of Johnny's calf, screwing the cap back on and placing the tube to the side. You then slowly began to smooth the gel into the skin, which was now bright red from where your hands had been moving against it.

"Am I the only one that calls you Johnny, then?" You asked, carefully rolling his calf beneath your fingers and palm.

He grunted, lost in the feeling for a second, and then cleared his throat in an attempt to re-centre himself. "Uh, yeah, pretty much."

"Do you like it?" You asked.

You said it innocently enough, but Johnny's brain was in a slight haze. Your hands on him, the slight twinge of pain, the smell of the gel and of your perfume. He blinked rapidly where his head was tucked against his folded arms.

"Huh?"

"Do you like it?" You repeated, fingers rubbing gently across Johnny's burning-hot skin. "Do you like when I call you Johnny?"

"Uh–" Johnny was praying that he didn't get a fucking boner.

"Or would you prefer it if I called you Soap like everyone else?" You asked, this sentence sounding more sweet and sincere than seductive like the last few.

Johnny cleared his throat again. "Oh, I mean, it's up to you, doc. I don't... you know, I don't really mind–"

"No, seriously," you assured him, the palm of your hand pressing down on his calf, making his breath hitch. "What would you prefer? Don't worry about what I prefer. What do you prefer?"

Anything. Fucking anything. You could call him whatever name you wanted to, even if it wasn't his, and he'd still love it. He'd still love the way it sounded falling from your lips. Call him whatever you want, doc.

"You can call me Johnny." He said quietly.

"Yeah?" You smiled. "I'm not cool enough to call you Soap?"

Johnny bristled. "What? No! No, doc. It's not that–"

You laughed, and the sound alone made Johnny's heart start beating a hundred times faster. "I'm just kidding, Johnny. Don't worry."

Johnny sighed into his arms, shaking his head, which made you laugh. Soon, you finished applying the Voltarol gel, and were washing your hands at the sink while Johnny gingerly put his feet to the ground, sliding off the table.

"Okay, so I've just put some Voltarol on your calf, which should help reduce the swelling and inflammation. It'll also help soothe the muscles a bit and hopefully reduce the risk of you cramping up in the near future," you said, double-checking your files once more before turning your full attention to the scrum-half. "Don't shower or put water on the area for at least an hour, and try to avoid direct sunlight if you can. It works better in the first hour if you do that."

Johnny was nodding along to everything you said.

"Oh, and don't touch it and then touch your eyes, that'll sting like hell," You finished with a smile, clasping your hands together. "Any questions?"

Johnny looked out the window briefly, and then back at you. "Yeah, uh, do I need to do anything else?"

"Well, no training for thirteen days at least. Which means no game this weekend."

He gaped at you. "What? Doc, come on–"

"If you want it to get better, Johnny, then you need to rest it," you told him sternly, and he shut his mouth immediately. You smiled. "Any other questions?"

"Am... Am I coming back?"

You laughed. "To me?"

"Yeah. I mean, you know, as a physio–"

"Yes, you'll come back to me, Johnny. Give it about a week, but if it's still feeling as though it's a fresh injury before then, make an earlier appointment. Oh! And don't let me forget–" You hurried over to your cabinets and grabbed a spare tube of Voltarol gel, handing it to him. "You can use it up to four times a day, but your injury isn't too swollen anymore, so just put it on after your shower, maybe once in the morning and again at night if it's bad."

"Okay. Okay, cool, thanks doc." Johnny said, looking down at the gel and nodding.

You smiled, heading back towards your desk. "I'll see you in a week's time then, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Johnny told you, pocketing the gel. "Thanks for that, doc. Have a good day, yeah?"

"You too, Johnny."

Johnny left your office, closing the door gently behind him. His calf was already feeling so much better, but he had another problem.

He adjusted himself in his shorts, placing his hands in front of his hardening cock.

Fucking hell.

•º•º•

He felt like an absolute perv the way he would take any opportunity just to look at you.

Over the next week, Johnny wasn't allowed to take part in any of the trainings, but he played water-boy pretty well. That meant he was still limping around the training grounds, wandering through the halls, and annoying his teammates by just being himself.

But, one of the main reasons he was so happy to play water-boy for the next week or so was because he could see you.

He watched the way you hurried down the hall, files tucked beneath your arm, humming to yourself. He admired the way you smiled and greeted all of the players and staff, always so happy to be talking with any of them. He noticed how sometimes you'd absent-mindedly watch the training from your window, and Johnny got to steal glances of your pretty face behind the glass.

It was some high-school type crush. It had to be it.

Or maybe not. When Johnny saw the way Gaz looked at you, just for a split second, a fleeting moment passing each other in the halls, he felt his stomach drop. Would he have to compete with Gaz for your attention now? The way the winger smiled at you; all bright white, absolutely perfect fucking teeth. So charismatic, and charming, and Johnny saw the way it melted you. The way you hid half of your face behind your clipboard of files, and the way you averted those pretty eyes of yours.

Johnny had no reason to feel like this. But something about you... something about you had him feeling so... different.

So he did feel as though he was competing with Gaz sometimes. Subtly, of course. Gaz was still his teammate and one of his closest friends, so the Scotsman had to ensure his strategy was invisible.

For example. Walking down the hall on the way out to the field, and you'd pop your head of your office to wish everyone good morning. Johnny found it easy to just push Gaz ahead, jostling him around with false excitability that everyone predicted of the scrum-half, anyway.

Or at night, one time Johnny caught Gaz lingering near your door, waiting for you to finish up your shift and then, like the gentleman he was, walk you to your car. Johnny found it slightly less easy to tell Gaz he had a last minute appointment, and so Gaz didn't need to wait around. It was just a little white lie. Nothing major. And then, when you'd finish with your work, Johnny would walk you to your car, opening the door for you, leaning against it as he spoke to you. He'd wish you goodnight, and a safe drive home.

And then–

"Did you need a ride, Johnny?" You asked at the end of the week, looking around the empty carpark.

Johnny drove sometimes. But as of late, to keep himself moving– and occupied– he'd walk from home to the station and then take the train. If he really wanted to, he could probably walk all the way home in less than thirty minutes.

But, how could he say no?

Not with the way you were offering him such a warm, comforting smile. The night was cold, too.

"Are you sure, doc? I don't want to keep you from heading home..." Johnny said, drumming his fingers against the car door.

You smiled, starting the ignition. "Don't be silly. Hop in, it's cold out tonight."

Johnny tried and failed to hide his smile as he walked around to the other side of the car, sliding into the passenger seat. After giving you his address, he thanked you while he put his seatbelt on, and then thanked you again when you rolled out of the parking spot. He thanked you a third time when the car merged out onto the main road.

You released a small, bashful laugh, glancing at him momentarily. "You don't need to thank me. I'm sure you would've done the same for me."

Of course he would have. He'd do anything you asked of him, you know that, right? Hell, if you wanted him too, he'd let you drive him home and get you splayed out on his sofa and, because you'd probably ask so nicely, he'd press his face between your legs and make you come in his mouth. Or, or, if you let him, if you granted him even the slightest chance, he'd be so fucking happy for you to drop to your knees in front of him, pump his cock in those soft, skilled hands of yours, and then wrap your lips around him. Good god—

"Yeah, o'course I would doc." Johnny mumbled, screwing his eyes shut and trying not to focus on the image he just put in his head.

You shot him a look. "Are you alright?"

Johnny's eyes snapped open, and he realised, with heat forming in his cheeks, that he'd made a pained face and released a soft groan. How fucking embarrassing.

"Yeah, m'fine... s'just, you know, my calf." He lied.

At that time, you pulled up outside his flat. Johnny took a deep breath.

"It's still sore?" You asked with a frown.

Johnny felt guilty now.

"No..." He admitted. "It's actually feeling a lot better. I should probably thank you for that too, eh?"

You smiled. "That's okay. It's my–"

"Your job, yeah..." Johnny trailed off, looking down the dark street through the windshield. He turned back to you and found you were already looking at him. He furrowed his brows. "What?"

You squinted at him, as though trying to see him better. "What has been going on with you lately? You've been acting... different."

Johnny looked around sheepishly. "S'nothing, doc."

You hummed, skeptical, but didn't question him further. Instead, he thanked you again for the ride, wished you goodnight, and exited the car. You watched him disappear through the door of his flat before driving away.

•º•º•

Of course you had a crush on Johnny. Who wouldn't?

It was hard to ignore his charm, his infectious smile and his flirtatious compliments. It was hard to ignore the looks he gave you across the hall, or the way he always seemed to run into you after the end of your shift.

He was a handsome man. An absolute menace, mind you, but he was nice. Really nice. And you wondered whether it was a ploy to get you to actually like him.

Thirteen days after your initial appointment with Johnny, and a couple of days after you had dropped him home, he sauntered into your office, chirping out a "morning, doc!" before automatically laying himself down on the medical table.

You smiled, shaking your head ruefully, getting up from your desk and walking over to him. He was rolling up the leg of his grey sweatpants, exposing his calf to you.

"Morning to you too," you said. "Your calf looks good. The swelling's gone down significantly, hasn't it?"

He nodded. "Yeah, and it feels good too. No pain."

"No pain?" You questioned, gently prodding the target area on the back of his calf. "None at all?"

"Yep," Johnny said, popping the p. "I'm all good."

"Good," you told him, patting his calf a couple of times before walking away to write up a final statement on your computer. "Then I suppose we're all done."

Johnny jolted up, his head snapping over to look at you as he quickly lifted himself off of the medical table. He began rolling down the leg of his sweatpants. "Oh, well, I mean– are you sure? Like, did you want to check it again?"

"No, it's alright," you said without looking at him, eyes on your computer as your fingers flew across the keyboard, the clacking filling the room. "Swelling's gone down, pain is gone. You're all good to go."

Johnny frowned. "Right... okay... Do I need to, I dunno, like, come back for a follow-up appointment?"

"No." You shook your head, still typing.

"So that's it?" He was almost pouting now.

You smiled at your screen, hearing the slight sadness in his tone. "Yes, Johnny, that's it. Until you get hurt again, you don't have to come back and see me."

Johnny's frown was deep now. "But what if I want to see you again without being hurt?"

"Well, I work here, so you'll see me–"

"No, I mean, what if I want to spend time with you without you– you know– checking me for injuries."

You finally looked away from your computer, cocking your head to the side in confusion. You stared at him for a moment, and then laughed. "God, at least take me out to dinner first, MacTavish."

The way you said his last name had his cock twitching within the confines of his sweats. He cleared his throat, fidgeting with the elastic of his waistband. "Yeah, actually, I mean, if you wanted, you could come 'round to mine for dinner."

You smiled at him. "You cook?"

He shrugged. "I try."

You laughed. "Okay, sure. When–?"

"Tonight," Johnny said a bit too quickly, then slowed himself down to repeat; "Tonight. Six o'clock."

Your smile didn't fade. "Okay, Johnny. I'll see you at six."

•º•º•

"For the record, this is not a date. It's just dinner, okay?" You reiterated as you walked into Johnny's flat at a few minutes to six that evening. He took your coat from you, and showed you into his flat.

"I know, doc. Don't worry," He said, and then led you into the living room. "Dinner's in the oven, but we can wait here if you'd like."

You sat down on the couch and Johnny took the armchair directly opposite. You were presently surprised, too. The flat smelt amazing, savoury smells of rendering fat and frying potatoes– a good roast, by the smell of it. And the flat was tidy, well decorated too. Not something you expected from a rugby union player.

"Your place is really nice, Johnny." You remarked, looking around the room.

"Oh, that's all Simon. He likes keeping the place clean."

"Oh, you flat with Ghost?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, but he's out for the evening. Gym, I think. Probably with Price and Gaz, too."

After looking around the room, you turned your attention back to him. He was already looking at you, and it was like a wave of heat passed over you– the way he was looking, his soft dark eyes and the slight pinch in his brow, made you grow hot. It was like he was studying you, an unwaveringly warm appraisal that had you shifting in your seat. The only other person that had ever looked at you like that with such admiration was Gaz.

"What're you staring at, Johnny?" You asked accusingly, trying to play it off like a joke. Something flippant. Anything to conceal the fact your heart was beginning to hammer in your throat.

He sighed through his nose, lips quirking as he looked at you. "You're a smart girl, doc. I think you can figure it out."

Your stomach fluttered at that. What the hell.

You forced yourself to roll your eyes and sigh and act the complete fucking opposite of the way you were feeling. You shook your head, a mocking smile on your face as you broke eye-contact, looking anywhere else but him. "Don't do this to me, Soap."

"Oh, no Johnny?" Johnny teased. "You're nickname-zoning me now?"

You huffed, finally looking at him. "No, that's not what I–"

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable," Johnny quickly said. "And you're more than welcome to leave, seriously, no hard feelings. But... but I have a huge crush on you, doc."

Oh. Well… it’s not like you weren't expecting it. But you still felt your mouth drop open a bit.

You tried to play it cool. "Crush? What are we, thirteen–?"

"Don't shoot me while I'm down, doll," Johnny grimaced. "My heart's beating out of my fucking chest."

Doll. That's new. You didn't know how to feel about that.

But your pussy certainly liked it. [LMAO]

That pulsing heartbeat in your chest seemed to move down your body and into your underwear, pleasure pinching at the base of your tummy, making you feel giddy. Maybe it was because it was Johnny saying it...

"Johnny..." You whined, flopping back further onto the couch.

Johnny groaned in response, his legs spreading as he lifted his hips, adjusting the way he was sitting in the armchair. Your eyes followed the movement unabashedly, causing a wicked grin to split across the Scots face.

"God, I've imagined you saying my name like that since you walked into the team room on your very first day," Johnny muttered, and you watched him with bated breath as he palmed himself over his sweatpants. You could see the hard outline of his cock, and you squeezed your thighs together.

"Johnny..." You whispered to him and he groaned again.

There was a prominent tent in the front of his sweats now. He groaned again, watching the way your eyes never left his body. "Tell me to stop doc, and I will. I'll stop. I'll... I'll stop for you."

You didn't want him to stop. Maybe you did– I mean, hello! You're job? But, just like with Gaz, all thoughts of your job seemed to fly out the window. The way Johnny was looking at you, the way his cock hardened just by you whining his name like that, had heat flooding your body and arousal dripping from your cunt.

"I... I don't want you to stop," you told him and you could see the visible relief on his face. You bit your lip to hide your smile. "I want you to touch yourself, Johnny."

"Oh, fuck yes–" he literally growled, pulling his cock out of his boxers and sweats. He hissed out a low groan when he squeezed his cock at the base, the tip already flushed red and pearling with pre-cum.

You bit back a whimper at the sight. The way he fisted his cock a couple of times, before holding it at the base; the way his cheeks burned red, eyes darting across your face; the soft grunts and groans that elicited from his chest; the light pinch in his brows as more pre leaked from his slit.

You released a shaky breath, teetering on a whimper. "You're so pretty, Johnny."

"Ah, fucking hell, doll–" He groaned, using the pre-cum rolling down his length to slick his grip, pumping his cock while his eyelids fluttered. But he willed them open, eyes finding yours. He noticed the way you were squeezing your thighs together, moving in your seat. God, he loved it.

"Come on, doc. Let me see you touch that pretty cunt, eh?" Johnny uttered, a sparkle in his eyes as you wasted no time pulling your trousers down, followed by your underwear. He noticed the damp spot on the fabric, and groaned again. "God, s'this what you wanted the whole time? Naughty fucking girl, doc. Look how soaked you are."

You spread your legs slowly, parting your thighs for him to see your glistening core. He moaned out, the pace of his hand increasing as you dragged your own fingers along your inner-thighs, dancing across your bikini-line but not quite going further. That made Johnny grunt, movements slowing.

You blinked lazily at him, pleasure stirring in your stomach at just watching him. Your clit was throbbing.

"Tell me how to touch myself, Johnny." You basically begged, and Johnny almost came right then and there.

"Fuck, fuck–" He gripped his cock hard at the base, trying to slow the building of his orgasm. But you looked so good, sounded so good. You were perfect. He slowly began his movements again, the sounds of his pre-cum alone sending soft squelches through the living room. "Play with your clit, doll, come on. Show me how you like it."

You moaned, finally dragging your fingers over your core. The pads skimmed across your wet folds, gathering your slick, before circling your puffy clit. Johnny's eyes were burning you whole.

You moaned out, a breathless "oh my god, Johnny–" following, bracketed by another long moan at the end of your sentence. You were so sensitive, your bundle of nerves throbbing beneath the tight circles of your fingers. Johnny jerked himself off to the sights and sounds of you, his cock twitching in his hand, rigid velvet beneath his fingers. His eyes flitted from your blissed-out facial expressions, to the way your fingers toyed with your clit. Your cunt squeezed around nothing, and Johnny groaned when another dribble of slick leaked out down the lower curve of your arse.

"You're so wet, fucking hell," Johnny muttered, more to himself than you. "Want you to fuck yourself now, doc. Want you to stuff that wet cunt with your fingers," he said louder this time, wetting his lips as he quickened his hand movements, hips twitching upwards to meet each thrust. "Go on."

You whined at his words, reluctantly dragging your fingers away. Your clit was buzzing with your unreleased orgasm. So fucking close. But you listened. Like a good girl, you listened and trailed two fingers down your folds to your dripping hole. You waited for him, fingers circling the opening.

Johnny cursed, then groaned. "Waiting for my permission? Really, doc?"

You whined. "Please, Johnny–"

He chuckled darkly, still pumping his cock. "Go on then, doll. Two fingers, yeah? S'that it?"

You whined again, two fingers smearing your arousal across your dripping core, heat fizzling in your lower tummy. Your hips twitched, body warming against the couch.

"I know that wet cunt can take more than that," Johnny said. "Fuck yourself with three fingers. Go on doc, you can count. Three fingers. Make yourself come thinking they're my cock."

Listening to him, you added a third finger and then slowly pushed inside. The stretch was there, of course– the light twinge of pain somewhere deep inside you, but you ignored it. The gummy walls of your cunt sucked your fingers in, wet and warm, until your knuckles were brushing up against you.

"Steamin' Jesus–" Johnny whispered, cock twitching in his hand, leaking pre. "That's it... now fuck yourself, doc. You can do that, can't you? Be good– fuck– be good and fuck yourself."

You did. In and out, you dragged your fingers, fucking yourself like he said and imagining they were his cock. His cock filling you up, pulling moans and whimpers from your throat, building that bubbling hot pressure in the base of your gut. You knew he'd feel so good inside you. Warm and hard and thick inside you. You were almost salivating, whimpering out to him as you neared your orgasm.

Your legs shook against the couch, trembling. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him, but the heat of his stare was making you dizzy. You whimpered "Johnny, Johnny, please–" and he grunted in response, praising you through it, uttering deep "that's it, doll, that's it" with each thrust of your hand.

"M'gonna come, fuck, m'so close–" You gasped out, eyes rolling.

Johnny was close to, grunting as he fucked his fist, eyes on you the entire time.

"Eyes on me when you come, doc. Open those pretty eyes." Johnny told you. You wrenched your eyes open, head falling forward slightly and your lips parting, a string of breathless whimpers emerging.

Johnny moaned. "You can come, doll, go on. Come 'round your fingers and tell me– fuck– tell me who you’re thinking about. Who’s on that pretty mind of yours while you’re being a good girl and coming ‘round your fingers, hm?"

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, and you did as you were told– keeping your eyes on him for as long as possible before the weight of your pleasure forced them shut, moaning his name in a long, loud "Johnny–!"

He came too, moaning your name into the living room. No doc, or doll; it was your first name– moaning it as he came across his knuckles, his cum splattering up his abdomen and dripping onto his lap. He pumped himself through it, slowly softening, muttering your name over and over, eyes finally closing.

"Next time..." He breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly. Yours was much the same. "Next time, I'm coming down your throat."

You smiled, fucked-out, taking a deep breath as you relaxed against the couch, the pair of you basking in each other's company as your highs waned. When you breathed in again, you smelt food. Burning–?

"Oh, fuck! Fuck–!" Johnny was tucking himself back into his cum-stained sweatpants and sprinting out of the living room and into the kitchen. "Fuck! My fucking roast!"

You couldn't help but giggle, moving to slip your pants back on. "Make sure to wash your hands first!" You called, and immediately heard the water running. You laughed again.

As you got dressed, you looked back down at the couch, embarrassment flooding you. A wet stain on the fabric. Oh, fuck no.

"Uh, Johnny? Do you have anything I could, uh, clean the couch with?"

"Check the bathroom! First door on the right!" Johnny called.

Thank god for that, you thought. You didn't exactly want Ghost wondering why his perfectly clean couch had a fucking stain on it. And, knowing Johnny, he wouldn't exactly have a good excuse for it.

Speaking of Ghost...

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask, what has Ghost done to himself? He's got an appointment before the game tomorrow, and it only says he's hurt his hand." You asked after exiting the bathroom with an arms full of cleaning supplies.

"Yeah, something wrong with his fingers, I think. I dunno. He hurt himself sparring with Price on Monday," you heard Johnny reply. "Price made him book an appointment. He usually doesn't."

"Huh..." You pondered. "Why's he at the gym if he's hurt?"

Johnny poked his head in the doorway. "He's Ghost. It'll take more than a couple'a sore fingers to knock him down... and, by the way, dinner's ready."

You smiled. "It's not too burnt, is it?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captainfern #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #141rugby!au #johnny soap mactavish #soap smut #soap x reader #soap call of duty #cod smut

706 notes · View notes