#john mactavish fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 1 month

Text

By the Belt (3 of 4)

Mechanic John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: married couple, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Soap needs a distraction, and you’re going to give it to him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // by the belt masterlist

It’s Sunday. John’s shop is closed on Sunday.

Even so, he’s always working on something, his hands unable to lean into idleness for a moment. They desire something to hold, to tinker and learn and explore.

It’s the late afternoon, and you stand in John’s personal garage located at the back of your shared property. His actual shop is nearby, just a mile or so down the road. This is sacred space. The place he goes to work on all sorts of personal projects. You are off to the right of him beside his knees. John is on his back, partially submerged beneath a lifted car.

That always makes you nervous, even though you know he’s careful about his safety. You always imagine the machine keeping the car aloft breaking, sending the vehicle down to crush him. The car itself is vintage, a special project that John has been working on for months. The paint is stripped and its mostly bare bones.

Beneath the car, you hear John sigh heavily. He rolls out from under the car, the wheels on the rolling bed squeaking as he does so. When he notices you standing there, he immediately grins.

“Hello, wife,” he croons, sitting up and draping his forearms over his bent knees.

“Hello, husband,” you reply, matching his tone. His smile widens and a warmth blooms in your cheeks. “Thought you could use a break.”

Grinning, he pushes up to standing, crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of break?”

With boldness in your blood, you reach out and slide your fingers in the belt loops of his dirty jeans. John stumbles forward, nearly knocking into you. That grin briefly transforms into surprise before settling into a sultry smirk.

“Oh, aye. I could use a break.” He leans in, your mouths meeting in a lovingly gentle kiss that warms you right down to your toes. When he breaks apart, that lovely grin is back. “But I’d hate to dirty your pretty skin with my hands.”

You tug on his belt again, smiling. “What if I want to get dirty?”

John laughs, his stained, oiled fingers hovering just shy of your skin. “You sure, love? Because I can do that.” Your answer is a brief yank on his belt. John shakes his head. “I warned you.”

You unthread your fingers and John makes a turn-around gesture. You comply, eagerness in your bones.

“Bend yourself over that table.” John points directly in front of you. It’s a workbench. There are a few tools but they’re off to the side, leaving the middle completely open.

Stepping up to it, you place your hands flat on the surface, bending forward, the angle forcing you up on your toes. John leaves you there. Lingering. Hanging. You have no idea if he’s watching you and enjoying the sight, or if he’s simply turned around and walked right out of the garage.

But you have your answer when John’s voice floats toward you.

“Lift up your dress,” he instructs, some rasp in his tone. He does not touch you, but you feel his presence. He’s close. You swear that you can feel his heat of the backs of your thighs as you reach back with both hands and lift your sundress up to your hips.

You are exposed to him. Utterly bare.

“Fuck. You dirty girl,” croons John, and you know exactly what he sees—or rather, what he doesn’t. “All bare under there. You knew what you were doing. Didn’t you?”

You did. You absolutely did.

Still, John does not touch. You hear the soft crinkle of his jeans as he goes down on his knees behind you, his warm breath brushing lightly against your pussy as he exhales.

“Spread for me a bit.” You shift your legs apart slightly. “Good,” he praises. “Like that.”

The moment you’re in position, John’s tongue parts your pussy with a slow stroke. He begins at your clit, moves upward, dipping the tip of his tongue into your sex before retreating. His hands rest on the table on either side of you, unmoving. Staying true to his word, John isn’t dirtying your pretty skin, but doesn’t mean he might not lose some control and touch you anyway.

Really, that’s what you want after all.

Using just his tongue, John traces circles, swirls up and down your sex, moves in languid motions that have you guessing. Every nerve is burning up like a sparkler. Your husband is teasing you, and fucking enjoying that he’s doing so.

He leaves nothing untouched, nothing untasted. Whimpering, John lightly kisses your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. It’s not nearly enough.

“Stay still,” he chuckles, when your hips buck with wanton irritation. “Let me finish my meal.”

John’s mouth promptly returns, and you know you’re done. Utterly done. Brain dead. Air rapidly leaving a balloon. He sucks on your clit, then penetrates you with his tongue, only to do it all again. With each, he sucks just a bit harder, bordering on painful pleasure.

The next one has you nearly coming off the table.

“I’m gonna fuck you after this, love,” groans John. “Bloody hell, you’re sweet.”

He dives in and your nails dig into the tabletop, your voice cracking as you orgasm. You feel his smile against your flesh before his mouth disappears from it, only to be replaced by the familiar sound of unzipping jeans.

The head of his cock presses at your entrance but doesn’t penetrate. John lightly guides the head back and forth through your slickness, the sound of it echoing loudly in the garage.”

“Will you be a good girl and take it?”

You nod enthusiastically, strands of your hair shifting to stick against the back of your neck. “Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

With a low moan, John starts to press in, your body not resisting, only wanting him inside. You both groan loudly as he bottoms out. Adjusting, John places his hands firmly above your head, anchoring himself.

He breathes deep, and reaches for your wrists, one at a time, trapping them against the table. John rolls his hips, thrusts lightly against you. It’s the perfect angle. You feel everything.

John increases the pace. Those light, almost shallow thrusts become languid and long, hitting deep when your bodies come together. From there, his thrusts turn sharp, a smacking pace that stings your flesh. You hardly care. John’s cock inside you is heaven, the thing just to ease the lust in your bones.

Every stroke is lovely, sending shivers of pleasure through your limbs. Your little moans become breathy exhales, your words leaving your lips silently, delivered only to the quietness of the air.

John’s head dips, his lips brushes over your exposed shoulder as he continues to thrust. “Gonna come inside you, love.”

It is not a question, and you will always say yes even if he asks.

His last few thrusts shake the table, the legs scaping against the concrete just before John holds his hips flush to yours. The groan as he finishes comes from deep within his throat. It’s a primal sound.

Glancing up, you watch as his grip on your wrists shift. He’s left some of that grease behind from working on the car on your skin. He said he wouldn’t mar it, but he couldn’t resist, and that feels like a victory.

John presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you tilt your head in his direction, seeking his gaze, even as he keeps himself inside you.

“Good break?” you murmur.

John chuckles. “Oh, aye.” He shrugs, nods toward your wrists. “But we need to get clean.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06

213 notes · View notes

holycryptid · 2 months

Text

The Death of Peace of Mind

Simon “Ghost” Riley x John “Soap” MacTavish.

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 1.9k

Tags/warnings: masturbation/use of sex toys, explicit language, sexting…?, objectification, possessive/obsessive simon, depictions of sex work, simon’s head is empty yet he has so many thoughts (let me know if anything was missed!)

Summary: Camboy!Soap AU - Simon is Soap’s most dedicated and loyal subscriber.

Notes: i never thought i’d write soapghost tbh. however, do not take this as factual or use it as educational! this world is different for everyone in many ways :) enjoy!

Simon Riley is a calm and collected man until he opens his laptop on Sunday nights.

The days on base are starting to blend together as he quickly approaches his requested leave, desperate for some prolonged peace and quiet to soothe and recharge after months on end of constant impassioned interactions with no time to decompress.

He is drained.

Simon quickly opens a new private tab, typing the desired website into the search bar and pressing the return button a little harder than necessary.

He navigates the explicit site with embarrassing ease, immediately clicking out of the onslaught of clickbait pop-ups he’s started to memorize by now. Various thumbnails of pleasure-filled faces consume his probably too-bright screen until he finds his subscriptions tab to the left under his profile.

A single rational thought isn’t able to find a way to his brain as he lands upon what he’s been waiting for all day. All week.

Too many arduous days on base have made him unsettled and irritable. This is his cure...at least for the next seven days until the cycle inevitably repeats itself.

Subscriptions: Soap_Strokes [live show happening now!]

Simon clicks the username and is redirected to the livestream before he can even think to get his dick out.

He should feel...dirty? Remorseful? Maybe sympathetic for himself, for how much he enjoys something he knows he probably shouldn’t. He hasn’t quite made time yet to think through his ethics regarding this hobby.

He knows he needs to unwind. He knows he needs a good wank. He knows who can give him that.

GhostWithTheMost has joined.

Simon’s alert eyes skitter across the screen as he assesses the violently colourful, and clearly custom, page layout Soap has set-up for his weekly shows. Indistinct music is playing in the background of Soap’s room, but it’s nothing that will be able to hide or cover the erotic sounds of self-pleasure.

Simon finds the small live chat at the bottom of the screen already running rampant with poor excuses for compliments and sexual declarations that hold no real value anywhere besides here.

Then his eyes find Soap—the man who has made his weekends slightly more bearable and his cock painfully hard on too many occasions, now included.

Soap’s pretty. A real, true “pretty boy” if Simon ever saw one. A perfect specimen in his (correct) opinion. Toned muscles, well-groomed body, soft yet defined features with the light shadow of stubble, a wavy and very overgrown mohawk that’s still kept short on the sides, a small septum ring, and barbells through each nipple that glint with every breath he takes.

Simon felt like he had found God when he accidentally browsed his way into one of Soap’s shows. When he joined, Soap was busy sliding a small black prostate massager in and out of his hole at a desperate pace, his other hand firmly squeezing the base of his twitching cock to torture himself. His cheeks and neck had fallen victim to a deep pink blush, either from arousal or effort, but it was the intensity of the scene that caught Simon.

This didn’t look like a man simply performing for others and their money, it looked genuine and passionate. Maybe that was the goal. A professional at the job, then. He had Simon fooled, if so.

Simon was instantly enthralled with his seemingly effortless beauty and physique. So much so, that he forgot to do what he was there to do: get off.

Soap’s own abrupt, and loud, orgasm was the thing that brought Simon back to reality that night, and he didn’t realize what he had just experienced until Soap ended the stream breathless and with a stomach covered in cum.

Soap left Simon in the darkness of his room, staring dumbfounded at the now empty screen of his laptop, blue-balled by no fault but his own, and with immensely scattered thoughts that couldn’t form into something coherent.

He was completely under the spell of whoever this man was when he’s in front of a camera. Soap. Simon later made himself cum to the sounds of whimpers that already housed themselves deep within his memory.

Now, Soap takes up the majority of Simon’s screen, already naked and partially spread with a cheeky smile on his lips, like usual, as he silently pretends to read through some of the “flattering” comments.

thekingcock commented: I’d fuck you so good baby !!!

Gazzy_xo commented: sexy sexy sexyy. I really need a taste of you

MrPriceAlmighty commented: im so hard already. Can’t wait another second

Soap is situated comfortably on his bed with his camera angled straight on, shooting between his parted legs and obnoxiously highlighting the huge Scottish flag pinned above his bed, yet everything is still framed perfectly. His cock rests semi-hard against his defined stomach while he teasingly runs his fingertips along the insides of his thighs to maintain viewership.

Simon takes this “opening lull” as a chance to organize himself. He manages to pull himself out of his trance of devouring Soap with his thoughtless gaze.

Laptop: placed on the small table in front of him.

Pants: off.

Briefs: also off.

Cock: out (and hard).

He sits back on his couch, laptop mere inches away and potentially damaging his retinas if they haven’t been already from times previous, and he confidently clicks the DONATE button flashing in the top left of Soap’s page.

The default amount he set goes through in seconds.

GhostWithTheMost donated £5!

A small ping echoes throughout Simon’s dark room as it goes through to Soap’s side of the screen, the donation popping up in the corner for everyone else watching to see.

He sees Soap’s attention move from the comments to the sound. “Ah, the ghost wants to get started, aye? Alright, let’s fucking go.” Another smile blooms across Soap’s face.

Simon reaches for his cock at the same time Soap reaches for his. But for Soap it was a mindless gesture—maybe instinct—just to keep it in place as he leans closer to the camera to press some buttons on his keyboard.

Simon notes how biteable and lickable his shoulders and neck look from this perspective.

“Prices are going up now. You control me and what you want to see.” Soap flashes a quick wink as four bold lines appear at the top right of the page:

15 SECONDS - £30

45 SECONDS - £80

2 MINUTES - £250

10 MINUTES - £500

“The show ends when I cum, so...don’t make it too quick.” He teasingly glares at the camera with a light chuckle that makes Simon turn his volume up a few notches.

He wonders how fast he could make Soap cum. A shiver crawls up his spine and his cock throbs at the thought.

Simon is willing to lose (and has lost) as much as it takes to see Soap cum, but he squints at the list, noticing that the prices aren’t what they usually average out to.

Has Soap just become that popular? Simon frowns at the idea. It feels like Soap is a secret between him and a handful of people, and he wants it to stay that way. It makes it feel more special, even if it isn’t. He likes the delusion.

Soap repositions his camera, angling it higher and tilting slightly downward so watchers will have a better view of the entirety of him, not just his cock and hole. He ducks to shift something into frame, and Simon very quickly realizes this isn’t going to be like Soap’s other shows.

Simon fixates his glare on the sizeable dildo that has been brought centre-frame in front of Soap’s bed. It’s very pink and very big, probably bigger than him, ribbed with prominent veins near the head. He follows the thin silver rod it’s attached to until it disappears out of frame.

It’s a goddamn fuck machine. A fucking machine. A machine that fucks you.

An excited-anxious feeling fills Simon’s gut, and a light sweat breaks out over his neck at the knowledge of Soap being in possession of one of these realistic and elaborate toys.

This is not how this is supposed to go, Simon thinks.

Well, technically yes, it is.

But to this extent? Technically, also yes. It’s Soap’s job. Two weeks ago, it was a translucent jelly stroker that Simon wished was his hand. Last week, anal beads and a body-wand that Simon wished was his cock and tongue instead.

And now this.

Soap slides back onto his bed with a bottle of lube in hand with that shameless smile on his face again. He sets himself back into the position he took before—leaning back on his elbows with his legs spread for everyone, and even the Holy Spirit, to see.

“In case you all haven’t put it together yet, donations control the amount of time the machine will fuck me for. You donate thirty, it’ll automatically fuck me for fifteen seconds, and so on,” he trails off, popping open the cap of the lube and squeezing a generous amount onto his cock and stomach.

Simon’s mouth has fallen open and gone dry. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he whispers into the darkness like a prayer that will save him from whatever he is about to experience.

His fist starts slow movements over his cock. Not even some spit needed to aid him; the amount of pre-cum leaking from him already should be embarrassing.

Soap tosses the bottle aside, takes that same hand, and rubs it over his now hard cock to spread the lube around and down to his hole. A heavy sigh releases itself from his throat as he presses two fingers in himself immediately, pumping them a few times before going back to carefully stroking his length. The slick sounds of his hand tugging on his cock has Simon adjusting his volume higher again.

Is it bad that Simon can tell he had a plug in before the show to better prepare for the dildo? Definitely bad.

Soap indulges the audience with this light foreplay until more donations begin to roll in. “A-ah, as soon as donations hit one-hundred, it’ll be the machines turn.” A breathy laugh is pulled from him on a particularly good downstroke of his fist, eyes fluttering for a moment as he shudders.

Simon is about to risk it all. He looks at the donation meter total: £75.

With his left hand, he clicks the DONATE button again, this time changing the amount before sending.

GhostWithTheMost donated £25!

The meter flashes as it hits its first milestone. £100!

Soap glances over to his monitor, hand never slowing or leaving his wet cock, and his lips turn up into another mischievous smile. “The ghost saving you all once again, huh?” His accent almost slurs the sentence to something unintelligible.

Soap lets out a soft moan as he pulls his hand away, gathering the excess lube on it and leaning forward to stroke the dildo waiting for him. “Thanks, ghosty. Dinnae know how much longer I could wait.” Another smile for the camera.

No. A smile for Simon.

It’s easy for Simon to forget that he’s not the only one watching this right now, but he forgot that fact as soon as Soap acknowledged his presence earlier.

Simon watches how Soap’s hand works the silicone, making sure to cover its entirety with the leftover lube. “Bastard,” Simon growls, still pumping himself with a lose fist just to ease some of the ache that’s settled deep in his cock.

Simon notices a light pink has already begun to paint Soap’s cheeks as he falls back onto the bed with wild eyes, some of his unruly mohawk flopping onto his forehead in divine strands.

Simon knows better than to screenshot something of this nature, but fuck, if his self-restraint is ever being tested right now.

#simon riley x john mactavish #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #ghoap #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #simon riley fanfic #john mactavish fanfic #call of duty imagine #simon riley imagines #john mactavish imagines #ghost cod fanfic #call of duty smut #ghost x soap smut #simon riley x john mactavish smut

32 notes · View notes

konigsblog · 11 months

Text

guys... i can't rn...

the things i'd let him do to me

#orla speaks #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #cod soap #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #captain john mactavish #soap mactavish x you #john mactavish x you #soap mactavish fanart #john mactavish fanfic

124 notes · View notes

mlmxreader · 5 months

Text

The Guilt of Leaving | John Soap MacTavish x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Soap with

82 "I just need a hug from you, specifically" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Soap leaves you at the worst time, and to make things even more difficult, he knows you're not even prepared for it.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, graphic depictions of fatal injuries & dead bodies, smoking, major character death, themes of suicide

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

When you first got the call, your heart dropped.

You screamed until your lungs gave out, cried until your head throbbed and pounded and snot was coating your face. You had always thought that he would be lucky, that he would never be the one to go.

That he would retire one day and you would live the rest of your lives trying to make up for all the time you had missed. You prayed, although you knew that it wouldn't save him. You asked the rabbi if there was a way, but they didn't answer. He wouldn't come back.

You stopped looking after yourself. The toothbrush was dry for months. The pile of dirty clothes piled up and up until you had nothing left to change into. You rarely ate, rarely slept. You stopped going out, stopped answering your phone, especially if any of his old friends called.

You always left the side door unlocked, hoping that he would walk through it. But he never did. He never would again.

Your boyfriend, your beloved Johnny, was dead.

Ever since that phone call, you had not been the same.

You never would be again, you and Johnny were… you had been together since you were teenagers. You were going to get married, you were going to have a family. You didn't even feel real anymore. Detached from everything, unsure if it was reality or if you were dreaming. A hazy state.

Constantly wondering if you should push yourself off of the top stair with your back facing them. Johnny was your everything. He was your best friend in the whole world. He was your boyfriend. He was your favourite person.

Now he wasn't even around to give you a soft kiss on the temple and tell you that it was all going to be alright. Nothing was the same anymore. You didn't smile when you saw old reruns of EastEnders and Waterloo Road on the television. You didn't feel excited to watch I'm A Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here!, you couldn't.

Those were things that you and Johnny watched together. You didn't even smoke the same kind of cigarettes anymore, constantly breaking apart and screaming his name when you saw his brand of tobacco on the kitchen counter. You couldn't cope anymore.

It was a dark, early morning, not even five hundred hours, when you went down to the kitchen. You didn't bother turning on the light as you went to the drawer and opened it, grabbing the long and sharp knife and taking a shaky breath.

You couldn't cope. You couldn't bring Johnny back as much as you wanted to, and you didn't know what to do without him. You had always been together. He was the one constant in your life.

You sat on the floor with your back against the cupboard, holding the tip of the knife against your wrist. You couldn't stand it anymore, you just wanted to see him again. You just wanted to be with him again.

You were about to do it, when the side door gently opened. The light turned on, and something stepped in.

He didn't look the same. His jaw was almost completely torn off, bits of his skull missing and exposing the ripped and shredded brain beneath. His eyes coated in a milky white; he took a few steps forward, lurching and jerking movements as he struggled to speak.

Black froth spewing from his bloodied and half missing lips. He babbled and gargled as he approached, crashing down onto his knees before you with a harsh crack, bones pushing through skin with ease as they snapped and forced the flesh to ripple.

With fuzzy grey fingers topped with black nails, he grabbed the knife, and threw it aside. More gargling and babbling. He stunk.

A sharp, distinct smell that sat uneasily against your nose and made you feel sick.

You didn't even think, lurching forward and hugging him tightly despite the sound of something cracking. “I don't care if this is real or not, I just need a hug from you, specifically.”

Johnny wanted to speak. He wanted to tell you that it was all going to be alright and that he was there, now, you had nothing to worry about. But he couldn't force what was left of his jaw back into place, and he supposed that the gaping and squelching hole in his throat probably didn't help, either.

Sighing as he resigned himself to letting you hold him. He wondered if you could feel how cold his flesh was, how his blood was congealed and clumpy. He wondered if you noticed that his heart wasn't beating. But then you pulled away, and he garbled as he did his best to speak.

“Oh, Johnny,” you whispered, sobbing. “I just wanna die…”

He shook his head, choking and static coming from his damaged throat.

“I don't know what to do without you,” you murmured. “And I don't know if you're real, but… but I love you, and I can't… I can't do this alone.”

Johnny wanted to reach out, he wanted to feel your warm skin against his and to know that everything would be fine; he felt terrible for leaving you so soon, he felt awful.

He knew that you would long for him forever and that your soul would forever be entwined with his; but he also knew that he couldn't come back. He was more than aware that he had to make you let him go, to let him rest.

But you wouldn't do that.

Johnny was smarter than that, he knew that after all the years you had been together, you would forever scream his name in your sleep; you would forever long for him to come home. Your soul would always tug on his.

He let out a quiet growl, spitting blood onto his thighs as he shook his head.

Johnny would never stop feeling the guilt of leaving you so soon, leaving you when you weren't ready whatsoever.

41 notes · View notes

lazybutsmexy · 1 year

Text

Bird hunting

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

Chapter 5: The Net.

Ch. 4 < Series masterlist > Ch. 6

Warnings: vague description of non-con recording, non-con drug use, cursing, minor character death.

Summary: Canary experiences fear, hope, and despair at the hands of her captors.

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

Word count: 1900~

It was growing colder by the minute, Canary could feel it on her back, which was still pressed against the wall, and on her naked feet. She tried rubbing her feet to keep them from going numb, but a sharp pain from her soles stopped her. She curved her right foot towards herself and took a peek to find the source of the pain, finding three red, circular shaped wounds - cigarette burns. They had probably done them while she was asleep to make sure she would have a hard time running away.

Her eyes shifted her eyes back to Blondie, who had just stood from his chair and was now searching into a box. Canary ran her lips over her tongue, she had to find out what their intentions were with her. She wondered if she had been investigated by them, or if they had just picked her out by chance. Also, if they had someone else above them giving them instructions.

“...Why me?” She pried, her voice pitch a little higher than usual. She already assumed that they didn’t know she was a trained soldier, so showing them defiance wouldn’t help much, especially knowing that she could be replaced if they found her difficult to handle. Perhaps if she sounded scared enough, she wouldn’t be seen as much as a threat.

Blondie didn’t answer at first, only sent her a side-eye glare before checking the contents of the box again until he pulled out a laptop. He sat back down on his chair and placed the laptop on a small table. The laptop lit up and he typed something, perhaps the password.

“...Because you’re pretty enough.” His voice was calm, unbothered, as if he was talking about the weather. There was no hint of the aggressive tone used a few minutes before. She guessed that her little strategy worked on him, making him think she wouldn’t be a fighter. What a fool.

From where Canary was seated, she couldn’t see the screen, but only how the light illuminated Blondie’s face. Finally, he opened a video file. A series of whimpers resonated through the speakers. Then, a woman’s voice pleading to be set free. Little by little, Canary realized what kind of video he was watching, and her skin erupted in goosebumps.

“Please, no, let me go, please… I-I won’t tell anyone, I’ll-” the woman in the video cried in pain as a loud slap made contact with her face. Then, her face grew muffled, as if her face had been shoved into a pillow or a mattress. The muted pleas turned into screams that echoed in the small basement.

Canary only stared at Blondie as she felt her bile rising in her throat. She could only imagine what they were doing to the woman in the video, and the worst part was that her imagination filled in the blanks in the most unhelpful ways. She had seen videos of soldiers being tortured for intel, both in desensitization training and as part of pre-mission debriefs before a rescue. She had been coached on what to expect if she was ever captured, and even given techniques to handle the psychological and physical torture. The woman in the video was not.

“I bet you’ll look even prettier on video,” Blondie smirked at her, there was a glint in his eyes that gave away his excitement. His stare was different now, predatory. Canary swallowed down the acid and frowned at him, her mind frantically working up a plan.

If she wanted to see Simon and Johnny, and the rest of her team, her newfound family again, she would have to find a way to escape.

~~~~~~

After the third video played in a row, Canary was shivering. She wanted to think it was exclusively from the cold seeping through her bones, but she couldn’t rule out the possibility that it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Aw, are you getting excited?” Blondie cooed in a sickly sweet voice, “Don’t worry, me too.” He stood up and palmed his crotch, a dark chuckle seeping through his teeth as he saw her frown deepen. “What a defiant little kitty, I’ll have to tie you up.”

Before Canary had a chance to retort, a loud bang of a door resonated from upstairs, along with feet stomping above them. The door to the basement flew open and Baldie appeared with a frantic look on his face.

“We are in fucking deep shit!” he yelled at Blondie, who looked downright pissed at him.

“What the fuck do you-” He retorted, but Baldie ran down the basement stairs and stood in front of him, with the younger one from before hot behind his heels.

“We went to get the fucking dart, and it was crowded with cops!” Baldie’s eyes were wide open, and his forehead was shining with sweat.

“There were some soldiers there too!” the driver continued just as frantic, “A fucking unit of a dude with a fucking balaclava, like a fucking grim reaper starin’ right at us!” This perked Canary up, a small glimmer of hope warming up in her chest - they were definitely talking about Ghost. “They were definitely looking for something, right where we caught her!”

Blondie took a few seconds to process their words, and slowly turned to Canary, who felt a prickling sensation in her skin at the rage blooming in his eyes. “Why would the military look for you?”

Canary bit the inside of her lip, “...I have some friends in the military…” It was a half-truth, but she hoped they would buy it. If they knew that she was a soldier herself, she feared they would execute her right then and there to avoid more trouble. If they killed her and maintained a low profile for a while, they could easily get away.

As long as she was alive, there was a chance she could escape from them, or that her team would find her. And knowing that the 141 Task Force was in on the search as well only increased her chances of survival. They would never leave her behind.

Blondie flared his nostrils and his hands clenched into fists as he turned around to face Baldie and the driver, “Take her back to the van, I know another place where to take her,” he commanded, pointing at Canary as she mentally prepared herself to give them a difficult time. “Once we get to that place, you,” he snarled, pointing at the driver, “will get rid of the van and find another vehicle for us.”

Both men nodded and started approaching her. Canary uncurled herself to have more freedom of movement with her legs. The men noticed it, and quickly threw themselves at her. She screamed and threw a strong kick that connected to the younger’s side, but Baldie managed to grab onto her legs and pin them down. She wiggled up, trying to tug her hands free as she attempted to headbutt him. The other launched himself to her torso, ignoring the pain on his ribs as he put her neck in a chokehold and crossed one of his legs over her stomach. Her throat burned under the pressure, and the weight made it harder to breathe, but the man was inexperienced, and she managed to get the soft flesh of his forearm with a hard bite. He screamed a curse, and started tugging on her hair, trying to get her to release him, but she just locked her jaw in place, while still trying to free her legs from underneath Baldie.

An all-to-familiar metallic click called her attention, and Canary looked up to see Blondie pointing a gun straight at her face. She stilled, feeling her heartbeat loud in her ears as she slowly slacked her jaw, releasing the man’s arm. .

“Behave, bitch,” Blondie growled, before stabbing her in the neck with a loaded dart in the neck. She shouted in a mix of pain and frustration, feeling completely useless as she was so easily overpowered. The room began spinning around her again, and she lost sensation in her arms and legs. The same feeling of terror invaded her as when she first got drugged back in the trail, her last conscious thought was a memory.

~~~~~~

Canary tried hard not to pout at Johnny and Simon, who had come to see her once again before leaving for their mission. She was going to miss them greatly, as it was not often that they were separated. Simon noticed though - he always did - and leaned over her hospital bed. His balaclava was raised up to his nose to have easy access to her pouty lips with his own.

“Be a good girl and wait for us.”

~~~~~~

A catchy Latin Pop song was blasting on the radio, and Melanie’s fingers tapped along the rhythm on the wheel. She had absolutely no idea of what the words were, but the tune was contagious enough for her taste. As she drove past the campus, her tapping faltered.

She thought of the missing woman, who she only knew by her codename ‘Canary’, and her big soldier friends. Detective Hartford, who had been a mentor of hers in the police academy, had at one point mentioned that the bond of the 141 Task Force was a particularly tight one. They often faced dangerous situations of the kind she couldn’t even imagine, and so they were especially unnerved about this entire ordeal.

She didn’t consider herself an overly empathetic person, but watching Hartford pull so many hours to help them made her want to do her most as well. Hence she found herself driving home, with the intention of having a light dinner, stocking herself with midnight snacks, and having a shower before going back to the crime lab. If she pulled an all-nighter, she believed she would be able to get a time advantage that the team desperately needed.

As she stopped at an intersection, she saw a gray van drive past her. Alarm bells rang in her head as she recalled an eerily similar van speed past the search area that same afternoon, and she didn’t hesitate to change her usual route to follow it. As soon as she was at a distance she considered safe enough, she took her phone and dialed the dispatcher.

“This is Officer Kirk, plaque number-” She identified herself to the operator and gave her location, before licking her lips and willing her breathing to remain steady, “I’m following a dark gray van that matches the description of a suspicious vehicle spotted today at the forest trail.” She dictated the license plate to the operator and waited for any confirmation that her instinct hadn’t lied to her.

~~~~~~

“...Alan,” Luke called out to the man sitting on the passenger seat, who grunted back at him, “a car is following us.”

Alan stopped rubbing his temple and shot him a look, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” the driver gulped, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, “the woman’s talking on the phone.”

This caught Alan’s attention, and he looked at the side view mirror on his side of the van, cursing under his breath when he saw it was true. He turned around on his seat, locking eyes with Charlie, who had been listening intently. “Use the rifle.”

Charlie nodded and grabbed the weapon, leaving his spot next to the unconscious woman and crawling to the back door of the van. He peered through the small window, before slowly unlatching the safe and taking aim.

The young officer didn't notice the scope of the rifle until the bullet had already been fired, and her chest exploded in burning pain. It didn't last long, however. And by the time her car lost control and ran into the first line of trees, she didn't feel any of it.

A/N: I hope you haven't grown too attached to Melanie :/

Taglist: @died-in-a-field-of-flowers @rafaelacallinybbay @namenotimportant1373 @ragingbookdragon @zinfairy @scrumplump @speckel @omgitstatertot @fullmoon-94 @kalamataolivesssss @embers-of-alluring @warenai @frazie99 @kee-0-kee @littlezarp @scaredknight @tapioca-marzipan @kendahl757 @sweetybuzz25

To be added to the taglist, comment on the series masterlist you can find at the top of this post!

239 notes · View notes

runekirikjartan · 1 year

Text

a snippet from 'an observational study of a ghost, by a paranormally inclined expert in clandestine tradecraft'

Whatever curses that Ghost was about to spit died on his tongue. It wasn’t even the worst thing that Soap could’ve said, so many other things were harsher, so many other topics, so many other cracks in his mask that Soap knew about and could’ve poked at would’ve sent him stumbling-

But the way Soap looked so tired of him with that sentence alone made Ghost’s eyes burn. He swallowed the dead words down, choking on them as they got stuck on a lump on his throat. As he stared wordlessly at Soap, the Scot just stared back at him, brows furrowed in confusion like he was expecting Ghost to respond and that he was surprised by the sudden silence.

Ghost clenched his fists at his side, digging his nails so hard into the palms of his fingerless gloves that he felt them chipping.

“Get out.” He muttered, inhaling sharply. He needed to get his shit together, patience fraying like an old length of rope.

Soap was still standing there, staring at him like he hadn’t just unknowingly ripped Ghost’s heart out.

“Ghost.” “Get the fuck out Sergeant.” Ghost drew himself to his full height and stepped forward, holding his arms by his side, because if he physically didn’t keep them in place he might just punch Soap in his pretty, traitorous face.

#soap x ghost #ghost x soap #goap #fanfic #soap mw2 reboot #ghost mw2 reboot #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #simon riley x john mactavish #simon riley fanfic #john mactavish fanfic #my fanfic #fanfic snippet #cod w2 reboot fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #angst #proceed with caution.

112 notes · View notes

mellowswriting · 1 year

Text

** = nsfw

johnny + breeding kink**

shut up and take it** (ghoap x reader)

requested: Simon shuts you up by forcing Johnny to kiss you while he fucks your brains out :)

#john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader smut #john mactavish smut #john mactavish #john mactavish fanfic

2 notes · View notes

ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring.

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances.

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees.

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm.

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove.

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs.

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench.

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!”

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips.

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses.

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier.

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you.

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours.

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. ��Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in.

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely.

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner.

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth.

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state.

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

9K notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Text

YOU MATCH THE 141 ON TINDER 💓

Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

------------------------

I was only going to post these when I finished writing and everything but I'm just... SO FUCKING EXCITED 😭😭

spoiler: Johnny and Kyle are the ones managing Price's account (took covert pics of the captain) but they ask Ghost how to answer the questions and DMs in order to have "the right tone of voice" LMAO

I'll post the actual drabbles soon!!! 🙏

If you'd like to be tagged when this comes out, lmk! (via dm, question or even here) THE TAGLIST IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED, not accepting any more requests! (I'm sorry, there's just too many people on it)

[Read the FIC]

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader

4K notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

Text

What Are We (4 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: light angst, brief mention of alcohol, possessive Soap, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl)

Word Count: 942

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Always deflecting the question, you push John for an answer.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

John is not an angry drunk. Nor is he a sloppy one.

In fact, John is exceptionally gifted in holding his alcohol. But what John is after a few drinks can only be described as mischievous. He loves pushing at the right buttons, teasing until you’re hot with carefully concealed embarrassment, constantly touching, constantly grabbing until you’re playfully smacking at his hands.

John loves riling you up. He does it on purpose. He pushes until the gentleness becomes quiet discontent, until your tone becomes argumentative, only for John to kiss you, and then fuck you until you shut up and forget all about it in the first place.

While it’s a game between the two of you, you’re not particularly feeling it tonight. Right now, you’re slightly irritated, uninterested in all of his advances. It’s not because you’re no longer attracted to him, but because you have a task before you.

Your friends all the say the same thing. To confront John and ask him what this is between the two of you. You and he are always together, always a pair, and yet there has been no solid commitment. Whenever it’s brought up, he’s usually the one to quickly dismiss it, especially in a group setting. In the beginning you thought nothing of it, but now, after months together, you need an answer.

John lounges on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped over the back of the sofa. His eyelids are soft, almost closed. The arm not resting on the back of the sofa is in his lap. John’s large hand rubs up and down his covered thigh.

“Come here,” he murmurs, indicating where you should sit with a soft tap of his palm.

You’d give anything to slide into his lap. To wrap your arms around his neck and forget the world for a bit.

But your heart is beating wildly in your chest, the anxious need to ask him a fiery thing.

“What are we, John?” you whisper, glancing up to his face, seeking an answer.

The playful smile on his face drops slightly. John slowly rubs up his thigh and back down again before lightly squeezing. “Come here,” he repeats. “We can talk while you’re in my lap.”

If you go to him, the two of you will not talk.

“No,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

The playful demeanor melts away, replaced with that of a hunter. John leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. He holds this position for a moment, staring at you intently. With an exaggerated unhurriedness, John stands and then strides forward into your space. There is no chance for you to step away from him or to give yourself room to breathe.

John is right there, grabbing the back of your neck, hauling you into a passionate kiss that rips your resolve from your throat. You open for him, and he enters, claiming and kissing and tasting until your fingers dig into the front of his soft, cotton t-shirt.

When he breaks the kiss, the wetness between your thighs is stark and unforgiving.

“You need to answer my question,” you murmur, some of that strength returning.

“Do you think you’re not mine?” he asks, tone serious.

“No. Just—you never admit what we are. You always brush it off, especially in front of others.”

John frowns, his thumb rubbing across your cheek. “They don’t need to know what this is. This is just between us.”

You shake your head. “I understand but that’s not what I’m asking.”

John’s hold on the back of your neck strengthens. He draws you even closer, just until the tips of your noses are touching. “Then let me show you.”

He closes the distance, and you melt completely, forming to him as you always do. With one arm snaking around your waist, John guides you over to the sofa. You’re so wrapped up in him that his abrupt breaking leaves you momentarily dazed. It’s brief. A flash. And then you’re bent over, knees sinking into the cushion, arms and hands digging into the sofa’s armrest.

“John—”

You don’t even get the question out before he’s shoved up your skirt, pushes your underwear aside, and places his mouth on your pussy. His tongue swirls and tastes, expertly moving up and down and then stopping to tease your clit.

Everything clenches. Everything shakes. And it isn’t until your small death appears suddenly that you realize how good John is with your body. He sucks and sucks on your clit until your voice goes hoarse.

Then, you’re yanked flush against him, his chest pressing into your back, John’s hand wrapped around the front of your throat. You feel his hand between your bodies opening up the front of his jeans and shoving them down enough for his cock to slide between your thighs.

You whimper and push back on him.

“You’re mine, love,” he murmurs into your ear.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance. It hovers there before sinking in. John groans as your fingers find his skin, digging in.

“Your cunt is mine,” he growls, retreating a bit before thrusting forward harshly, completely burying himself inside you.

The hand at your throat twists a bit, forcing you to look at him.

“Your lips are mine,” he says just before kissing you, his lips meeting yours as he rolls his hips.

His other hand reaches between your legs to play with your clit. It’s over. You’re done. You will give him anything.

“Everything about you belongs to me,” he whispers against your mouth. John’s thrusts increase in pace. “And I am all yours.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @enfppuff @heeheehoohoohahahihi

333 notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 3 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood Masterlist

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks.

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

NAVIGATION PAGE Lore and world building masterlist CRCB Barracks Sims 4 Build Masterlist Support me on Patreon for more bonus content

Divider by: samspenandsword

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction Chapter 2 - Adjustments Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer * Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost Chapter 9 - Save Me Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins* Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together* Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie* Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes * Chapter 17: Alone Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #x reader #a/b/o

5K 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

eilidh-eternal · 4 months

Text

“Single mom x Johnny” this, “single mom x Simon” that.

I want single dad Johnny/Simon and the single reader next door who is helplessly in love with them and their kid.

18+ MDNI

You never wanted kids. You’re convinced you would turn out to be just like your parents. That’s probably why you don’t have a ring on your finger or any sort of boyfriend or partner to speak of.

You never wanted kids.

Until Johnny goddamn MacTavish.

You’re in love with the man who always walks his little girl to school every morning, crooked pigtails flouncing with each too-big step she takes to keep stride with his long legs.

Madly in love with the way he smiles down at the tiny girl, even tinier hand held firmly in his as she dodges cracks in the pavement, and the shriek of her laughter when he lifts her by the arm, swinging her through the air to the next chunk of concrete.

Hopelessly in love with the broad shoulders he hoists her up on, little legs swinging with arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her chin resting on top of his head, blowing stray hairs of an overgrown mohawk out of her face.

Dangerously in love with the way he lets her cling to his front when it rains, like a little koala wrapped around this tree of a man who holds an umbrella in one hand and has a firm hold on her with the other.

Happy. He looks so happy with her. Like she’s the sun he orbits; the star that lights up his world.

You’re just a comet who occasionally passes them by.

——

Johnny never thought he would be doing this alone.

He’s so far out of his depth. Never even had the chance to dip his toe in the water before he was shoved into the churning ocean.

He still remembers every life-altering detail of that day. The phone call after the 16 hour flight back to base. The frantic drive to the hospital. The impossibly tiny, wailing little girl, all alone in the social workers office.

She’s all he has left of her. Of them.

His best friend. His partner in crime, for more years than he can remember. The person who understood better than anyone who he is, saw him through his darkest moments, and loved him with her whole heart.

Gone.

But he smiles for her. Because of her. Isobel is the light in the abysmal darkness that he’s drowning in. The buoy he clings to when he can no longer hold his head above the surface. She’s everything. His past, his present, and his future. And she’s sitting at the table refusing to eat her dinner.

“’s not right.” Her little nose scrunches, turns up at the meal, and she pushes the bright green plastic away, matching miniature fork sent skittering across the table by the force of it

Johnny lowers his own fork and swallows his frustration with a sigh. “‘s yer favorite. Wha’s wrong with it? ”

Her brows knit together as she studies the tray, little creases forming between them and she slumps in her booster seat. “Mommy didn’t make it.”

No. She didn’t.

Johnny was never the cook in the family. That was all her. She’d chased him out of the kitchen after he’d burnt one of her expensive pans and he was thus forth relegated to chopping, and occasionally peeling, duties.

“I know.” His chair scrapes against the floor when he pushes back from the table, moving to crouch down where she sits beside him so that he’s at eye level with her, and he pulls the fork and tray back towards her. “But mommy wouldnae want ye to go to bed hungry, aye?”

“I wan’ somethin’ else.” He watches her little bottom lip jut out, brows still pinched and face twisting into a stubborn pout.

“Wha’d’ye want?”

“Quesadilla.” She drags out the ‘ee’ sound, emphasizing her clumsy command of the foreign language in her already thick Scot’s accent.

He enjoys Mexican food. Loved the tacos Alejandro and Rudy shared with him and his team during his time in Mexico. She’d learned how to make them for his birthday.

Nowhere in Glasgow made anything like it. Not then, and not now.

“I cannae make a quesadilla, leannan.” Her little lip wobbles, eyes turn glassy, tears already welling up in the corners and threatening to spill down chubby cheeks. She sniffles, drags the backs of her hands across her eyes, and Johnny feels what’s left of his heart splinter, another little piece of it withering away to nothing with each fat tear that rolls down and collects at her chin. He unbuckles her from the booster and gathers her into his arms as he stands up, taking her with him to sit in his own chair at the table.

Her little shoulders shake, hiccuping with each muffled sob against his shoulder and tiny fingers fist the material of his shirt. “Miss ‘er,” she warbles, and his arms tighten around her small frame.

“Ah know, leannan.” More hiccups. More tears that seep through his shirt and brand his skin.

You should be here. You’re supposed to be here. With her. With him. With them.

“How ‘bout we go down to the shops? Ye can pick whatever ye want for dinner. Dinnae think they’ll have quesadillas, but I’m sure we can find somethin’ ye like.” She lifts her head from his shoulder, tips it back to peer up at him with bleary eyes and sniffles. Wipes her hand across her eyes again.

“Cheesy noodles?” It’s thin and reedy, poor little throat still tight and full of grief that he knows feels impossible to speak around.

“Aye, we can get cheesy noodles.” He brushes an errant strand of hair away from her face, tucking the unruly curl behind an ear where it probably won’t stay. Just like her mum’s. So much like her mum. She considers him, his offer, and toys with his shirt.

“And sticky pudding?”

“Whatever ye want, leannan.” She really shouldn’t have something so sugary right before bed but he doesn’t have it in him to deny her. Is just glad the tears have stopped. That she’s willing to eat, even if he has to bribe her with junk food and sweets. He sends her to put her shoes on while he cleans up in the kitchen and grabs his own shoes and keys.

——

He’s there.

He’s standing in the pasta aisle with his little girl in the buggy, smiling at the way she makes grabby hands at the dismal selection of boxed macaroni, and he pulls one down from the shelf to hand to her. She inspects it, turning it this way and that way, pointing to something on the packaging and saying something that makes him laugh.

You’re frozen in place, jar of pasta sauce halfway to the basket in your other hand, and you can’t move because the sound of his laughter causes something in your brain to misfire. Causes the electrical signals between neurons and synapses to jumble together and sets your nerves alight. You think you might really be frozen, body unwilling to move an inch away from where you stand now, by your beautiful neighbor in the middle of a goddamned Tesco, until a little voice is addressing you.

“Hi miss neighbor!” Johnny’s head whips around and when his gaze lands on you it feels like your stomach’s turned to lead. “We’re havin’ cheesy noodles f’r dinner!” She holds up the box in her hand and kicks her feet excitedly.

You’re currently kicking yourself for making what you’re sure is an expression closely resembling that of a fish out of water. Mouth agape, brows raised and eyes slightly widened in surprise. When your mouth finally remembers how to move you smile at the little girl waving her box of noodles and powdered cheese in the air. “Hello, Isobel. That sounds like a lovely dinner.”

His brows knit together, one of them quirked at a curious angle. “And how d’ the two of ye know each other?”

Isobel’s foot connects with his thigh and his head jerks back around. “She’s our neighbor. She gave me the tablet,” she whispers a little too loud, cupping a small hand in front of her mouth. He turns back to you with the same jaunty brows and a quirk to his lips.

“So ye’re the one responsible for the wee heathens late night sugar-induced marathon.”

“M-marathon?”

“Aye, she was bouncin’ round the house all night, the little devil.” He ruffles her hair and she swats at his hand.

“I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” You don’t really know what you’d been thinking when you’d given her the Tupperware full of sugary confections to take home after she’d spent the morning helping you root around in the flowerbeds in front of your home. She’d been watching out the window for hours until she was suddenly right next to you, asking what you were digging for.

“‘s alright. Ye’ll just have to make up f’r it.”

It’s your turn to pinch your brows and tilt your head in confusion. “Make up for it?”

His lips part in a full, genuine smile, like the ones he gives Isobel, and your leaden stomach suddenly feels like it’s lodged in your chest, full of butterflies and other fluttering things you don’t dare to name.

“Oh aye. Reckon ye owe us a dinner since ye’ve skipped right to dessert.”

Next>>>

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

4K notes · View notes