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#soap
witchthewriter · 2 days
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Gaz: I sleep with a knife under my pillow.
Soap: Weak. I sleep with a gun.
Y/N: You’re both pathetic
Soap: What do YOU sleep with?
Y/N: Simon.
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moondirti · 18 hours
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Your ghostsoap x preg!reader!!??? I'm in love I need more of this. You have more thoughts for that universe? I just fell in love with your writing.
Let me camp in this corner of your blog, I'm friendly and don't bite (⁠~⁠ ̄⁠³⁠ ̄⁠)⁠~
they're all i've been able to think about all day. of course i have more to say <3 if you're curious, anon is referring to this, which should be read before this part.
tags: DARK FIC. manipulation. vehicle tampering. planned abduction. pregnant fem!reader. established ghostsoap – who are not the fathers but would definitely like to be. mentions of somnophilia
Delusional as they might be, it's hard to justify something as egregious as blunt-force kidnapping. Though it briefly occurs to Simon – to pluck you from the parking lot and drive off the hour after they decide to keep you – the logistics don't iron out. Of chief concern, you're six months pregnant. What they'd typically use for POW's thus become's inconsiderable for you; Johnny's the wiz, but even he knows the effects chloroform can have on a foetus. The alternative isn't any better, either – his partner just balks at the idea of tying you up and throwing you in the trunk. (She'll never git ower it, Si. Dae ye want her tae hate us?)
So, things unfold in a far subtler manner.
They go home that night they first meet you. Can't coordinate without resting on it, they rationalise, without scoping their place to assure it's suitable for their soon-to-be-mother. They tuck away the knives laying on random countertops, air out the quilts gifted to them by Johnny's ma in an attempt to make their room cozier. And when they sleep, they dream of you tucked in between them, knocked out, sex-drunk. Dressed in nothing but a shirt, cunt bared for either of them to toy with throughout the night.
Hours upon hours later, well into noon the next day, Simon wakes to find his boy rutting into his thigh, still somewhat comatose, and sneaks a rough hand into his boxers to tug the tension out of the poor thing. They only get up as the fissures of dusk begin to spread across the sky, loading their car with a toolbox and making the drive back to The Dahlia, staking out in the parking lot as they wait for you to arrive for your shift.
(Johnny had deployed the old charm as you brought out their food in two baggies last night, disguising the trap with a lilting laugh as he audibly wondered why you picked up such a late shift.
You’d only shrugged and said you preferred to work nights.)
Sure enough, you pull up in a beat-up Kia at 2200, fussing with your bag as you stumble to the back entrance of the roadhouse.
"Forgot to lock it." He mutters, following your form until it disappears from view. Johnny only frowns, tightening his fingers over his thumb. A little nervous tick.
"Should we be doin' this?"
"And what is this?" Simon turns to appraise the scotsman, larger hand enveloping his, calloused fingertips smoothing over scarred knuckles. "Y'think they'd be kinder to 'er? The type of scum we know grace this earth? It's a wonder she made i' this far, Johnny."
He isn't convinced.
"Look a' me." Blue eyes widen to meet his, dark as their owner battles intuitions that have always been straighter than the Ghosts'. "Wanna give 'er a good life, yeah?"
"Aye. The best."
"Would she be so convinced?" But he knows the answer. They both saw the way you withdrew after being hit on, losing the effusiveness you initially greeted them with. Avoidant. Classic case of hyper-competency, perhaps the very reason you put up with such shitty circumstances to begin with. A stubborn knot they'll have to undo themselves.
And Johnny likes the challenge.
"Lass's got something tae prove." Moments pass in silence. Then: "Ah’ll get th' wire."
"Atta' boy."
They only enter the establishment an hour before the end of your shift. It’s 0600 and space is sleepy. At a point that had escaped their notice, someone had made the choice to shut the overhead fluorescents, and so all that functions to illuminate the dinette is the pale dawn outside. Johnny finds he prefers it like this, grumbling a tired endorsement, before branching off in search of the bathroom, hand rubbing the sore column of his throat.
The softening mass in his pants jumps once Simon catches sight of you, balancing two trays in one hand as you wipe down the serving hatch. He doesn’t need to say anything. You catch the dark blur of him in the corner of your eye, shuffling into a booth, where he occupies an entire side with the mere spread of his legs.
“Hello again. Just you today?” You’re twirling your pen, cradling your belly, and he notes the perpetual shadow cast under your eyes. Poor pet.
He shakes his head, then cocks it toward the loo. “Think he’ll have a go at the toastie today.”
“Good choice. Hard to fuck up.” You give him a tired smile. “And for you?”
“M’good.”
“You sure? Look like you’ve been on the road again, and-" You pause, the water of your eyes rippling as you appraise his mask. Something seems to click just then, because you nod and tuck your notepad away. “I’ll ask again at the end. Maybe you’ll want something to-go.”
In the end, they do take something to go.
Not as greasy as the toastie Johnny spends the hour tearing into, glossing the pads of his fingers with oil. Nor as sour as the coffee he sipped on last night, burnt and way past freshness, just like you’d warned them about. But a much, much sweeter keepsake. Something that’ll sate them for much longer.
You’ve already clocked out once they leave The Dahlia, faces grim but as innocent as they can possibly muster. Sure enough, you’re out standing by your car, wiping tears with the back of your hand. They’re close enough that they can catch snippets of your conversation on the phone (No, I don’t– and It is old but never–).
They wait until you grow desperate, hiccuping – Don’t have that kind of money. Please – before intervening.
“Hey. What’s the matter, hen?” Johnny approaches first, concern no faux thing, smoothing a hand down your arm. What Simon said earlier comes back around (Wanna give 'er a good life?) and his chest tightens at the sheer despair he sees etched across your face. You shouldn’t be this stressed about anything this far along, should have someone taking care of you.
He, they, can be that for you. Could give you everything you ask for and more.
“M-my car. I-I don’t– I don’t know what’s wr-wrong with it, and–”
“Shhh, issalright. Not starting, eh?”
“No. And I have to- to get home before… before–”
Simon steps in, crowding you against the side of your car. You don’t have it in you to look for the red flags; the glances they throw one another, the subtle crinkle in the masked one’s eyes as he smiles. No, you don’t– can’t consider it dangerous. Not when these two wonderfully kind men, who tipped you 100% of their bill both times they came in, are one of your only means of getting help.
“Where do you live? We’ll drive ya if it’s on our way.” A lie. They’ll drive you regardless, and you won’t be taken home.
“Oh- no. That’s okay, really. I’ll just a-ask my boss if I can get a sub on my pay, and–”
Johnny smooths a finger across your cheek.
“Nonsense, hen. It’ll be a skoosh.”
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lovifie · 2 days
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Ghost needs to know where Soap and you always run to whenever the heli lands.
After every mission, every single one; the moment they touch ground, Soap and you disappear. Only coming back for the next breakfast, lunch or dinner.
He always gets pulls back by Price, talking about finishing paperwork and he never gets to see where you hide.
Until today.
He finally was able to catch the two of you enter one of the rooms on base before Price called him. Curiosity forces him to finish in time record, almost running to the room to see what is going on between you two.
What he didn't expect, was to find the two of you laying on a sofa, with Soap laying on top of you. With his pants down to his knees and yours hanging from your ankle.
Asleep, but Soap balls deep in your warm cunt. Too horny after the mission to wait to fuck eachother, but too exhausted to manage to do it without falling asleep mid-fuck.
He closes the door behind him, locking it. He likes your little arrangement, and he wants into the fun the two of you has.
Two pathetics pups, needing a third to fuck you right.
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skulldetergent · 3 days
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soap, seeing something written in hebrew: simon, can you read this?
ghost: just because i'm jewish doesn't mean i know hebrew
soap, jokingly: ... you suck at being jewish
ghost, half joking: you suck at being catholic, you're married to a man
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femalefemur · 10 hours
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you and soap kissing around ghost's tip, spit slicking both your lips and chins as you make out desperately while ghost is staring down at you both, all flushed and softly panting, pupils blown wide as he watches you both and rolls his hips at the feeling of your tongues as you kiss before he finally has enough, grabbing both your heads and pushing you together so both of your lips are flush with his cock, tongues pressed against each other as you and soap stare into each others eyes and ghost thrusts his fat cock between you two, groaning about how good you both are for him, how it feels so good, such good toys for him to play with before he pulls away slightly so he can cum over both your faces
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yawnderu · 3 days
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My pussy would love to sit on soap's face😔
Sitting on Johnny's face, pulling at the long hair of his mohawk, not a single protest coming out of his lips because he's simply too busy and drunk off your taste, his tongue working wonders over your wet cunt, even rubbing up and down to feel the light stubble against your inner thighs while he eats you out like a man starved.
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v1x3n · 1 day
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aussiepineapple1st · 3 days
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Soap Tattoo Artist AU
Next
I hope you enjoy this AU I came up with. Heheh. I just posted part 3 on Patreon
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sixleggedboar · 3 days
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Ghost or price with the Bonk or Bonfire Color pallet.
-your local dumbass 🐺
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I’m lovin’ it.
Ended up in the flowTM, so here’s the whole 141.
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tb-png · 20 hours
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Afterparty - 🖤🧼
Hc that most nights out, soapgaz end up in each others bed no matter what hehe
Patreon |
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crashtestbunny · 12 hours
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Highland Games (Captain MacTavish x F!Reader)
CW: So. Much. Smut. Extreme manhandling. Dacryphilia. Arm fucking. Overstimulation. Degradation. Referenced somnophilia. Summary: King MacTavish competes in the Highland Games for the first time in years, all because you promised him a prize he can't refuse. Word Count: 2.4k a/n: I have divided the smut by section lmao if something isn't your fancy you can skip.
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The Highland Games took place in an expansive field of green grass, with the warm, gold summer sun high in the air. Colourful tents and canopies with buntings leaping between supports spanned the entire area, with the centre a dedicated field for the athletics. The people are bustling around with all manner of crafts, livestock, and food and drink while the bands are tuning their instruments in the feasting tent. You wandered around on your own, John having to attend to helping check some of the finer details.
You hadn’t seen your husband compete in these games since he was a young man in his 20’s, but you remember then he had been well sculpted, vivacious, and a showboat. One of the best caper toss competitors, and fierce at the maide-leisg. He could drink anyone under the table then and belted out songs louder than any patriot. A sight to behold.
You see him in the distance – a king, and not one to sneer at. His hair grown out and pulled back with silver clasps, and a well-kept beard, helping to accentuate just how wonderfully blue his eyes are. Not the well-sculpted boy he used to be, he was more impressive now: Broader, muscle made for function and not admiration, soft and gentle to hold at night, but taut and massive at slight pulls on his form. He glances over towards you and sends a warm smile, a look in his eyes ‘Be a moment, bonnie’.
You take your seat in the royal tent, shaded with plush chairs and its own table to dine at. The bagpipes ring out to signify the beginning of the event when John comes into the tent with a goblet of scotch already in hand.
“Are you competing?” You ask with an interested glimmer in your eyes.
“No. I have nothing to compete for.” He chuckles as he takes a sip of his cup, “Have ye, don’t I?”
You let out a huff and he raises an eyebrow at you, “What?” “There’s nothin’ in this for you?”
“Naw, the winner gets a favour: the chieftainship of Stirling. I donnae need a chieftainship, I’m king, bonnie.” He chuckles as he takes another long drink from his cup.
“There’s no favour you could want?”
He raises his eyebrows and grins in amusement, “…Well bonnie… I have all the favour I need from ye.”
You scoff and smirk in amusement, deciding to push his buttons, “All I hear is the King of Scotland won’t compete because he might lose.”
“Excuse me?” He frowns immediately with a wicked glint in his eyes, placing his cup down before crossing his buff arms across his broad chest.
“You heard me, you’re scared that you’ll lose your honour and dignity in front of Scotland.” You push.
“Listen here, dottie.” He grunts, reaching a hand out to curl his rough fingers under your chin, his thumb digging into the cleft in warning, “I will compete. I will win. And fer every win I have, I’ll be claimin’ yer favour. I’ll be claimin’ it until ye cannae walk, am I understood?”
Squirming in your seat, you cross your legs as you feel something coil in your stomach at his words, “Yes, your majesty.”
He smirks and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, “That’s a good lass, gonnae be so good fer me.”
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The caber toss is the first event lined up. John approaches the field, shucking his short jacket and peasant blouse off to reveal his burly form, the dark coarse hair on his chest travels down to a pleasant happy trail that disappears below his kilt. The pudge on the stomach hangs over the kilt ever so slightly, but as he bends to assess the cabers on offer you watch the skin ripple and the trained abdomen poke through, only made better as he settles on one of the heavier cabers.
His large hands grip the narrow tip and then squatting down he hoists the caber up onto his strong shoulders vertically, his biceps and triceps flexing in a display of pure raw strength. His face is calm and quietly confident while the rest of his competitors begin to break a sweat already, red flushed faces surrounding him as he effortlessly lifts this 148-pound tree trunk.
Lightly jogging up to the marker and then planting his feet, his hard calves and thighs flexing as he powers the momentum from his legs up through his body to toss this thing like it weighs nothing, 22 feet flipping over twice from his careful and exceptional technique. Your breath hitches in your chest as he looks over his shoulder at you with a wicked, smug, little grin.
His strong legs are planted into the ground, with his safe arms on the backs of your knees, bringing them up to your chest, his rough hands locked on the back of your neck as he lifts you up and down on his girthy cock. You let out delectable screams of delight as your gummy walls cling to his cock as he drops you on it over and over, pounding it against that pleasurable spot inside you, bullying into your cervix until you’re close to tears.
“Tha’s it, bonnie, just let me toss ye – weigh nothin’ tae me.” He grunts into your ear as he runs the sensitive lobe between his teeth and sucks on the soft flesh.
He suddenly shifts his angle and then his leaking tip is pounding directly against that little spot that makes you see stars and your jaw goes slack. His lips are on your neck, sucking possessive purple marks into the flesh as he hammers into you, making the coil in the bottom of your abdomen wind tighter.
“John John John don’t stop don’t fuckin-!” you cry out as your eyes begin to roll back, your pussy clenching around his hard cock as he drops you onto it in a brutal pace.
“Didnae plan tae… won’ stop ‘til I’ve won every event, Bonnie.” He chuckles through his moan as his own orgasm is nipping at his pleasure, “Now cmon, need ye to cum fer me, lass, need to feel yer wee cunny flutter around me cock, give me yer favour, gorgeous.”
You let out a desperate, orgasming cry at his encouragement as your swollen pussy clenches around his length and you squirt, your thighs twitching violently in pleasure as he continues to use you as a fleshlight through your orgasm. Then you feel the first of many orgasms filling you up, warm, sticky seed pouring into your pussy only to leak down and join the ring of cream you’ve left around the base of his cock.
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You’re still sore and aching between your legs by the time the next event is lined up; the maide-leisg. A tug-of-war style event where the men sit with the soles of their feet together and a stick held by them both in the middle, then they both pull and the person to raise to their feet first is the loser. You see the other male competitors aren’t even daring to look at their king, whether it be for the sheer mass of him or because you shouldn’t disrespect your monarch is up for debate.
Eventually MacTavish grabs the biggest competitor as his partner – a man taller than him and rotund, a challenge indeed if John plays his cards wrong.
The whistle rings out and all the men are trying their best, pulling on the stick, some even pushing on it – a battle of intelligence to those more experienced. Glancing over at John, you see him red in the face as he focuses, pulling on the stick in quick bursts, making his biceps dance and the veins in his forearms pop. He digs his heels into the soft green earth and uses his thick legs to generate strength needed to force the other man upright. Your jaw drops as you witness John let out a guttural roar and with one firm tug on the stick and his legs planted firmly, he forces the men upright and nearly toppling on top of him with the sheer force of the movement. The first to get his opponent upright – the winner of this competition too.
You find yourself connected at the pelvis to John, your glistening cunt swallowing his cock as both yours and his legs are spread out in an X shape either side of each other, your thighs resting atop of his, making every roll of the hips feel invasive, like he’s rearranging your guts. He’s holding firmly onto your forearms, his rough hands giving you no manner to escape as he tugs on your arms to pull you onto his cock every time he rocks his hips.
“Go’wan lass, give a wee pull back.” He taunts as he jerks your arms making you take a relentless pace of his cock drilling into your used pussy, drawing cries and whimpers of pleasure from your lips.
“No John- can’t can’t- I can’t-“ you babble helplessly with tears springing to your eyes, your muscles feel too lax and tense at the same time, threatening to combust in bliss. You have no control over them and he knows it.
Stops. He stops moving just as you felt your orgasm about to embrace you. You begin to sob. Desperate, whiny little thing.
“If ye want it lass, ye gottae play the game.” He tuts with a gentle smile.
Realising he means it you pull against his firm hold, and he holds steady, allowing you to set the pace and fuck yourself onto his cock and you cry in relief as it pounds back into that sweet spot that was bringing so close to the precipice of delirium.
“Tha’s it lassie, be competin’ yerself soon enough.” He moans out as you fuck yourself stupid on his cock, brutally pounding your pelvises together as you cover his in your glistening pleasure. Each time you connect at the base of his cock he makes a point to roll his hips and bounce you on his strong thighs, hitting every spot inside you that brings fat tears rolling down your cheeks from relief.
“I’m gonnae- oh fuck John I’m gonnae cum!” you squeal out and he takes that as his cue to tighten the grip on your arms and pull – smashing your pelvis impossibly tight to his as he rolls his hips, and you see stars – electric shooting up your spine as your muscles twitch in pure orgasmic bliss.
The sight of you so fucked out and delirious was enough to bring John to his own orgasm, his heavy balls tightening as he empties them inside you once again, filling you up to the point you whimper from overstimulation.
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Wobbling along the fence of the event field, you hold onto the wood for balance, watching as the men are being told the exact rules of the next competition: sheaf tossing. All they had to do was toss heavy bundles of hay over the bar, and the bar would raise each round until the last man was left.
While many men start by using the pitchfork to get the necessary height for the lower height, you watch as your husband simply lifts a bale onto his steady, broad shoulders. Then he squats down and pushes up and stretches the arms out, his whole burly body contorting into a Herculean display of manhood as the golden sheaf is tossed like a feather over the bar.
It’s only when the bar is raised halfway does John turn to the pitchfork for those extra few inches it can squeeze out of a throw. One by one men eliminate themselves, not having the base strength or correct momentum and thus knocking the bar down. Until it’s just John, with the biggest, smuggest, smile in the world. His blue eyes twinkling as he looks at you, and you squirm.
He's laughing at you; the smug bastard is laughing at you as you’re sat pretty on his bicep that he’s resting on the table. It glistens as you drag your eager pussy over the strong muscle, and he flexes it to push tight against your clit and stimulate it.
“C’mon bonnie” he purrs, “Want you to lather me arm up in yer pretty wee cunny’s juices – show me how much ye appreciate me strength.”
You whimper and drag your puffy cunt across the taut muscle and moan loudly, oversensitive and abused that every little bit of pressure lets you see stars. Then you cry out as a rough, calloused thumb circles around your swollen clit.
“Look at ye, so desperate to cum again that yer bouttae do it on me arm – pathetic wee bonnie.” He coos with a smug smile as you moan loudly with your head thrown back as he continues to play with your begging clit.
“John- John- no!” You weep out and he groans in delight, “No I’m gonna- I can’t- It hurts too good!” You sob, your body seeking another release like an itch on your hand, and yet it’s agonising, a dull and aching throb that can only be satisfied by your orgasm.
He flicks the clit with his thumb and you writhe on his bicep, grinding your pathetic pussy into it which only rocks your hips back onto his fingers, now caught in a cycle of chasing your own pleasure while your husband leans up to kiss away each fat, delirious tear, “s’alright, gorgeous – let go. I’ll be here, I’ll be right here if you let go.” He says in a bassy purr that coaxes you into a soft mind.
Your jaw drops as you chase that edge and moan loudly as you tip over it, squirting across your husband’s arm as you convulse and fall forward onto his safe broad shoulders. He’s there. You hear his heartbeat as he lifts you onto his lap.
“I’m naw done yet bonnie.” He warns, as he lifts his kilt and taps his heavy cock against your abused slit, making you squirm – no other thoughts other than bruising and more more more and tired, so tired.
“I wonnae disturb ye.” He reassures as he pushes in, much more gentle as he massages your thighs, “Go’wan, get yer rest, lass, I’ll finish up and take care of ye.” He kisses your cheeks, fully sheathed in your tight heat as your eyes can’t make themselves open from exhaustion.
You were the real winner of the Highland Games.
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super-marvel-dc · 11 hours
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Gaz: Subs are so fun to play with. All you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way and they're a wide-eyed mess.
Y/N: What the fuck kind of Subway are you going to?
Soap: Substitute teachers deal with so much shit.
Ghost: Guys...
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queenhunter102 · 2 days
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Master list
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Taglist
CALL OF DUTY
Our Omega PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
PART 5
PART 6
PART 7
PART 8
PART 9
PART 10 PART 11 PART 12
Lore page
CHRISTMAS TIES - CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE, JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH, SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY.
CAPTAIN'S COUCH SNEAK PEEK OF NSFW - HERE
The 141-task force decided to get married. (Civilian) - Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Captain John Price, Johnny 'Soap' McTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
Buying a house/flat with you for the first time - Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Captain John Price, Johnny 'Soap' McTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
Getting you alone on your wedding night - Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Captain John Price, Johnny 'Soap' McTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
The picture they use to show you off on base - Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Captain John Price, Johnny 'Soap' McTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
First date - Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Captain John Price, Johnny 'Soap' McTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
NSFW Links (My written work) - Simon, Johnny, Kyle, John
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patrollingboston · 16 hours
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I don't really dance // Soap x Reader fluff
Soap your long time crush offers you a dance at a friends wedding.
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The wedding looked gorgeous, not being a typical romantic the idea of attending a wedding for an entire day would make your stomach churn. But seeing as it was Gaz’s wedding and he was one of your closest friends you made the effort for him and his lovely new wife.
The dancefloor was bustling, the music was throbbing through your ears. You grasped a glass of wine sipping it slowly underneath a veranda with vines tangled around the legs making a pretty sight. Confetti lay all over the table in the shape of pink and white hearts. How cute. Everyone else, that you knew of, attending the wedding all seemed to be at the bar or enjoying the atmosphere of the dance floor. Ghost sat opposite you on the table, a beer in hand, his mask still pulled over his face; it obviously didn’t come off for special occasions. You sat there like a pair of grumpy idiots whilst everyone else enjoyed themselves.
“What time do weddings usually end?” He grumbled, taking a sip of his beer whilst lifting his mask up to reveal his mouth. He must have had some weird looks from guests who didn’t know about the whole mask ghoulish thing.
“Fuck knows.” You reply taking a small sip from your glass, your eyes scanned the area, the stars contrasting the thick dark sky that loomed above everyone.
“Look at Price and Laswell dancing over there.” He said gesturing to the pair, clearly both plastered as they danced joyfully to the music.
“Psh, at least they are enjoying themselves.”
A beat passed.
“You spoken to Johnny today?” He made direct eye contact with you, swivelling in his seat as if the conversation had taken a more serious turn, making your stomach flip slightly.
“A little bit, caught him before the ceremony. Saw him chatting to one of the bridesmaids. Why?”
“You know if you keep letting your big bruised ego get in the way nothing is going to happen with him.”
“Um excuse me Ghost, I have no idea what you mean.” You said defensively raising your voice a touch so he could hear your annoyance over the loud bass.
“Whatever, I don’t see him with that ’bridesmaid’ now.” He leaned back in his seat again taking a swig of his beer.
“Dick.” You said under your breathe, who was he to talk about your feelings.
Subconsciously your eyes drifted around the space for him, you spotted him perched on a barstool chatting to who you assumed to be Gaz’s mum, always the charmer. As if he could feel eyes on him, his head turned round into your direction. You quickly looked away trying to gulp down your glass of wine to seem occupied; praying he didn’t notice you staring.
The song suddenly switched from an upbeat one into a slower paced one making everyone begin to pair up and sway around the floor. Gaz and his bride were looking lovingly at each other, you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous about what they had. Pushing those feelings down you turned to ghost.
“Want another drink?” You spoke, standing up grabbing your purse from the chair.
“All good, not done with this one yet.”
“Not like you to turn down a free dri- “ You were cut off by a presence in front of you, looking up you saw Soap. You swallowed hard.
“Ya alright?”
His accent made you weak at the knees, even if you’d never tell a soul that.
“Fine, you having a nice time?”
“Yeah, I um wondered if I could steal you for a dance?” He asked, his confident demeanour suddenly changing to an anxious teenager.
“What... I don’t really dance.” Unintentionally you let a laugh slip out.
“Dinnae laugh at me, I’m serious.” He playfully punched your shoulder before holding a hand out towards you.
You looked towards Ghost who was trying his best to ignore the situation happening right in front of him, you managed to catch his eye for a brief second, he widened them as if to say ‘go on’.
You took his hand and he gently led you towards the dance floor, you found a quiet spot between the crowd.
His hands found your waist as you placed yours on either side of his shoulders. You weren’t quite sure where to look so you opted for gazing over his shoulder.
“Relax would you, you’re as stiff as a board.” He teased.
“Can’t say I dance very often, give me a chance I’m not a natural.”
“You’re perfect.”
The comment caught you off guard, you pulled away from his grasp slightly meeting his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice the way the fairy lights surrounding you reflected in them causing a twinkle. All of a sudden, he was twisting you round like a ragdoll. During the spins you couldn’t help but see a few familiar eyes staring in your direction in surprise.
“Johnny please, I’m getting dizzy!” You chuckled, he always had this way of making you unmask and let your guard down no matter the situation.
“You look stunning, I don’t tell you enough.” He spoke with a genuine tone and a cheeky smile as his eyes fell back on yours once again.
“I- “ Choking out a single syllable, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.
“Come ere’.” His arms wrapped around you even tighter, causing you to fall against him, you rested your head in his shoulder as he continued to peacefully sway to the music.
Your eyes found Ghost who was still sat, beer in hand at the table by himself. He raised his bottle in your direction, you wanted to be annoyed but couldn’t bring yourself to be, instead you returned him a warm smile.
You would have never guessed that the night ended with you slow dancing with Soap MacTavish underneath the stars like in a romantic comedy but here you both were intertwined moving with the calm pace of the music lovingly.
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lovifie · 21 hours
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Price buys matching shirts for Ghost and Soap, and it is these (in that order):
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baklavasudarajako · 2 days
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THE ABSOLUTE SCREAM I JUST RELEASED
Thank you all so much for all the love and support !!!
I'm so excited for future posts, commissions and suggestions.
It really means so much to me thank you all! 🩷💕💓🩷🩷💓🩷💓🩷💓🩷💓🩷💓💕🩷
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