#what a fuckin barracks bunny is

[dreadfullyrottenn]

"it must be so cool being in the cod fandom!!!!" the fandom:

#wtf #do these ppl even know #what a fuckin barracks bunny is #you dumbasses #be ashamed #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw #cod mw3 #cod mwiii

[sweet-as-an-angel]

♡ Bimbo Barracks Bunny ♡

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Rough Sex, Objectification, Dumbification, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Possessive! 141, Mean! 141, Manhandling, Slut-Shaming, Fem! Reader. ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

Expect a lot of objectification.

Manhandling, too.

And wolf whistling.

It’s absolutely constant when you’re with the 141 – especially considering you’re their 24/7 fuck toy.

More days than not, you’ll be subject to a rough and thorough pounding from one or more of your boyfriends, hear them tell you to “Take it, you stupid whore,” as they slam into you from behind, holding you down over the edge of a counter.

Slut-shaming is to be expected, too.

You can’t wear a single outfit in peace — especially if it’s a skirt or dress.

Someone’s sticking their hand up there on their way past and making a grab for whatever their hands can find purchase on.

Dumbification Central.

“Too fuckin’ stupid for your own good – need a big, strong man to tell you what to do, don’t you."

They’ll buy you things to make up for their roughness with you if (when) they see you limping after an encounter with them. Ghost’s the main offender in this case; for what he can’t convey through words, he does through gifts. And what scandalous gifts they can be.

He especially likes dressing you up like his doll, buying you things he knows will fit you, things that will make it so much harder for him to resist the urge to ravage you whenever you bend over or come and sit on his lap.

They call you ‘Princess’ ‘Bunny’ 'Kitty' ‘Pretty girl’, or (Price’s favourite) ‘Daddy’s girl.’

They definitely smack your backside all the time, btw. The second they see the chance, they’ll pounce on it – on you – reeling back and slapping your ass.

The yelp you make when you feel the sharp sting is just too cute to pass up, as is the wounded, wide-eyed look you give them.

They also love showing their ownership over you: marking you up for the next man to see when he tears your dress off or pushes your skirt up, only to see that someone else has ruined you first (usually with their cum still oozing out of you, too).

Price is the most extreme — he has a crippling breeding kink and it shows.

More often than not, he’ll bend you over his desk and pull your hips as close to his as humanly possible, trying to get as deep inside you as he can.

“My girl, only good for takin’ my cock and havin’ my kids – gonna make me into a real daddy, hm?”

Entertain his kink for even a second and he’ll make sure you’re not going anywhere even after he’s done with you; he has to keep you plugged up and make sure his seed takes, after all.

Ghost loves to steal you away and throw you over his shoulder when he’s needy.

He’s like a caveman in the way he throws you onto the nearest surface without ceremony and tears your clothes off, spreading your legs and pressing his clothed bulge against your cunt.

He growls, too. Makes you squeal when he grips your panties by the bridge and tears them off, leaving you exposed and ready for him to use as much he likes.

He treats you as his personal cum bucket, emptying his load into you as many times as he pleases, using you.

“Good-for-nothing slut, just beggin’ to be chased down and fucked in that tight little outfit. Did’ya think I wouldn’t notice? Practically had your arse hangin’ outta your skirt, just waitin’ to have your guts rearranged by me.”

Soap’s a menace - a cruel one - and takes his time with you, edges you, makes sure that foreplay drags on for a good hour or two before actually stuffing his girth inside you (given he has the time).

He likes to make you nice and desperate – likes to have you begging for him and eating out of his hand before he’ll entertain the idea of letting you take him.

“Think ya deserve it, lass? Think ya deserve to have me fuck whatever thoughts you’ve got rollin’ round in that empty head a’ yer’s out?”

He’ll grin down at you as you pant and plead, shutting you up by making you suck his fingers.

“Well, if ye have any thoughts in there.”

Gaz is the gentlest of the 141, but any man is subject to a power shift. Especially against someone they perceive as less intelligent than them.

And you’re no exception.

Gaz is the most likely to experience post-nut clarity, realising (and feeling immediate shame for) the way he spoke to you, the way he called you his “Fucking slut with no other purpose except to get me off,” was potentially hurtful to you.

Literally will not forgive himself – he’ll apologise, buy you things, hang his head in shame until you manage to (eventually) convince him that it’s alright, that you don’t mind, and that you actually enjoy when he turns a bit feral.

As do they all.

They’ll pimp you out to König sometimes, too. But only if they can sit in and watch supervise.

There’s something just so disgustingly satisfying about watching you get your insides visibly rearranged by the 6’10 Austrian – especially when they can see the heavy bump of his cock in your stomach, making you cry out with every slam of his tip against your cervix.

“Scheiße– where’d you find this pretty little thing, Ghost? Didn’t think you were allowed prostitutes on base,”

He’s just as – if not more – mean than the 141. Especially if you cum before he does.

Doesn’t matter if you tell him you’re overstimulated, he’s still going to get his release, whether you like it or not.

“Shut it, Brat – you’ll take my cock for as long as I want you to. Keep whining and I’ll choke you with it.”

You’ll receive no help from the 141. Not when they’re on the precipice of an orgasm, at least.

Ghost will even goad König, telling him to show you who’s boss, to shove it in deeper – wanna see her cry.

You always end up covered in cum afterwards, panting while your cunt leaks with König’s semen, the clink of the man responsible’s belt in your periphery as he sorts himself out.

You’re always very well taken care of afterwards, though. Bath, bed, and plenty of rest, with as much food as you could want. And a cuddle session, of course.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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#cod #cod x reader #cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost #ghost cod #konig x reader #konig smut #ghost mw2 #john price #john price smut #captain john price smut #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #Credit to @chaefilm & @arleculus for the dividers

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 20] || [Chapter 22]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: - 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? a/n: yikes.

Chapter 21: I BEG YOUR PARDON?

It was a familiar sight.

Gaz across the desk, Soap next to him behind the spare chair, Ghost in the back of the room a foot against the wall and arms crossed.

Except this time, Price was standing up, pacing the narrow space behind his desk, from the window to the wall.

“Explain it to me slow.” He demanded. “Like I’m five years old.” He had his arms crossed over his chest as he paced.

“Well, when Ma and Da love each other very much-” Soap began.

“Soap, I will put your head through the bloody wall.” Price threatened.

The shit-eating grin that had been on the Scot’s mouth was suppressed by a pressing of lips together, rapid blinking, and a nod. He had tried and failed at having a laugh at the Captain’s expense.

“Sorry, sir.” He replied.

“Explain.” Price demanded again, hands folded behind his back.

“I started it.” Ghost said from his corner of the room. “Kept talkin’ with ‘em after you had your little one-night stand.”

The younger sergeants didn’t look over. It’s become a strange thing to see Ghost at work, when they’ve gotten a bit more familiarized with Simon instead, back in your flat.

“Why?” Price asked in earnest as he looked at Ghost, stopping in his tracks to properly face him.

“‘Cause they make me feel good.” Ghost replied and crossed his arms.

Price stared at Ghost and, for a moment, his glare softened and his brow relaxed. “I see.”

With a deep breath, the older man tossed himself down onto his desk chair, legs spread and hands resting on his thighs.

“That doesn’t explain the two of you lot.” He pointed at Gaz and Soap.

“I found out about Ghost dating ‘em after they reached out to me to check on him because he went MIA.” Gaz replied.

“And how does that in you bein’ a bloody… polycule?” Price asked.

“I sort of took ‘em on a date on accident and realized how they made me feel and that I wanted to date ‘em.” Gaz said simply.

“And I thought Gaz and Ghost were dating and then found out they’re in fact also dating the same person and not just each other and-” Soap began to explain.

“Pump the breaks.” Price demanded. “Dating each other?” He repeated, sounding like he was this close to blowing a gasket.

“Nicely done, mate.” Gaz said sarcastically and hid his face in his palm, accidentally dislodging his baseball hat from his head.

“I BEG YOUR PARDON? YOU BLOODY FUCKIN’ IDIOTS ARE DATIN’ EACH OTHER?” Price raised his voice and stood up swiftly, sending the chair rolling back against the cabinets behind him.

When no one replied, he glared specifically at Ghost in the back of the room who, himself, was looking off to the side and looked at Price with an incriminating gaze..

“SIMON’S IN YOUR DIRECT CHAIN OF COMMAND!” Price scolds… Soap and Gaz only. “DO YOU KNOW THE TROUBLE THAT CAN BRING?!”

The three men remain silent, eyes forced open out of worry that blinking again will just set the captain off some more.

“IT’S ALREADY BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU’RE ALL DIPPIN’ YOUR DAMN COCKS IN THE SAME HOLE LIKE THEY’RE SOME SORT OF BARRACKS BUNNY BUT-” Price continued his tirade.

“Calm down.” Ghost commanded as he pushed away from the wall and approached the desk.

“Simon, don’t you tell me to calm down.” John ordered, though his voice sounded a lot more calm indeed.

“I’ll tell you to calm down if I reckon I should.” Ghost quipped and set his hand on the edge oof the desk, using his height to go toe-to-toe with their boss.

“You had fun with ‘em too, didn’t you?” Ghost asked with a cocked brow.

“That’s neither here nor there-”

“Cut the bullshit. Answer the bloody question.” Ghost commanded.

“I did.” Price admitted with a grumble and looked away.

“We’re just enjoyin’ ourselves too.” Ghost replied. “They’re considerate, funny, good company…” He trailed off.

“And they have a bloody flat that we can spend time in, with a proper kitchen for good meals, and a proper bedroom with a comfortable bed, and a proper shower that doesn’t have 20 other blokes bum ass naked-” Gaz joked.

“Right, it’s only 2 other blokes instead.” Soap added and him and Gaz nudged each other, earning a stern glare from the two officers in the room.

“Point is-” Ghost replied as he looked at Price. “You saw they’re nice.” He said directly. “Can’t fault us for likin’ ‘em.” He said directly.

“No, but I can fault you idiots for bein’ involved with each other on TOP of ‘em.” Price argued.

“Okay, so it’s not our proudest moment-” Ghost acknowledged. “But it’s happenin’. And you need to keep your mouth shut.” He demanded.

“OF BLOODY COURSE I’M KEEPIN’ MY MOUTH SHUT, SIMON! Fuckin’ hell!” Price complained and threw his hands up before turning to grab a cigar from his case.

“The brass will have all our bollocks f’r breakin’ nonfraternization rules. You f’r doin’ it, me f’r knowin’ it.” He grumbled as he cut the tip of his cigar with a huff.

“Not to mention I’ve been involved in this mess to begin with ‘cause I let you lot talk me into havin’ a one-night stand with ‘em.” Price continued, murmuring under his breath and scolding them without really scolding them.

“I can never get a ’old of you lot noawadays.” Price explained. “You’re meant to be on call.” He reiterated. “Always reachable. Always ready to fly out.”

“Yet I had to call Soap over 40 times two weeks ago ‘cause he was ‘asleep’-” He continued his rant.

“Aye, I was.” Soap replied, earning a shush from Gaz and a smack on the arm.

“And the moment we dismiss you lot from debriefs or meetings, you’re all running off to go be with ‘em, ‘xcept I didn’t know that was the reason until now, and it’s so much bloody worse than I ‘xpected.” Price complained.

The man was halfway through lighting his cigar and taking a puff when Ghost spoke again.

“If they didn’t find out about Cardiff, London, Cairo, Cabo, or Tel Aviv, they won’t find out now.” Ghost retorted.

Price whipped around so fast the younger lads could swear he’d give himself whiplash. “Don’t you bring that up.” He said to Ghost as he used his cigar to point at Ghost.

“I’m just sayin’.” Ghost replied, completely calm and unbothered. “If the brass hasn’t found out about the shite we’ve done while on the field, they won’t find out about us during leave.” He replied.

“Simon-” Price tried starting before he huffed through his nose and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Ghost simply shrugged and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell.” Price complained and sat back down on his chair, setting down his cigar on the lip of the ashtray and rubbing his face.

“Just get out.” He grumbled and waved them off with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

He didn’t peek from the spot where his face was hidden in his hands as he heard the men shuffling around and leaving the office.

Just as the door slipped to a close behind them, he heard Soap asking Ghost: ‘What happened in Cardiff?’

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

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

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#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 #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap x reader

[chamomiletealeaf]

Photo credit to @ave661 💖

Warnings: afab! reader, nsfw, smut, piv sex, squirting, gangbang?, sub!reader, degradation?, Oral (f! and m! receiving), thigh riding, spitroast, porn with little plot, just overall filth 🙏😩 (lmk if I missed any)

All is consented to 🗣️

wc: 1,916

A/n: This is my first fic and was actually supposed to be just a comment on the picture 💀 idk how it got turned into this 😭 Sorry if this sucks ass lmao.

Imagine you’re a sniper who was just outnumbered and captured as a prisoner just to have task force 141 take turns with you and make you a drooling, whimpering, squirting, cock dumb slut bouncing on their cocks one by one like their own personal barracks bunny.

Their thigh holsters rewire the synapses in my brain and have the same effect on me as electroshock therapy would 😵‍💫

They’d have you in so many different positions. Sometimes all of them using you at once, stuffing all your tight holes, sometimes one watching and enjoying from afar.

Simon would have your knees by your head, positioned on a couch, pushing your thighs back watching as your tits bounce and your eyes cross as he pounds into your wet, squelching pussy.

“God lovie, you got me thinking you WANTED to be captured with how fuckin wet this pussy is for me. Such a slut hm? I bet your cute lil cunt was throbbing and fluttering up on that hill we caught you at just thinking ab having us all at once.”

Once Simon’s done with you he wipes your tears of pleasure from your face.

“Aww, what, my cock feel so good you just can’t handle it? Look at how pretty and cute she is boys. And look at these fuckin perfect tits god.” He moves to start licking up and down your neck and on your tits, squeezing them and leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over, making you whine and arch your back, pressing your tits into him.

“C’mon mate you’ve had your turn.” Soap says impatiently, clearly frustrated.

Soap would have you sit on his lap, your back against his chest with your legs spread over his thighs, cock deep in your pussy so he could show the rest of the guys how much he can make you squirt. You arch your back and reach behind you to grip his hair with one hand while the other grabs at his thigh holster as you bounce on his cock. He reaches around your waist and rubs your throbbing, pink little clit in fast circles and side to side motions with one hand making you squirt all over him, yourself, and the couch while his other hand grips your hip with a sly, teasing smirk on his face as he does so.

“Ohhhh fuck yeah juuust like that bunny”, Soap says with a laugh as you squirt and your pussy pulses while he continues fucking up into you and rubbing your clit, making your juices messily splash around you two. “Show them how much this fat cock makes you squirt. That feel good hm? Hittin that perfect fuckin spot in you while I rub on this cute little twitching clit of yours yeah? Fuck look at that boys, she’s fuckin soaked us and the couch. Such a good fucking girl.” He says with that same shit eating smirk.

Gaz would join Soap after you squirt kneeling between yours and Soaps legs pushing your thighs back wanting to watch closer as Soap continues to fuck up into you, overstimulating your fucked out pussy. He’d place his warm, wet tongue on your clit looking up at you lapping up your remaining juices while Soap continues to overstimulate you, still pounding into you from beneath, making your toes curl as you let out a whimper.

“Mm taste so fucking good hunnie. That’s right you can take it.” Soap then removes his hands from your hips and brings his arms up and under your knees and placing his hands behind your head, putting you in a full Nelson. “That’s right, look at Gaz while he teases that cute lil clit of yours babes yeah? Look at how my fat fucking cock stretches you nice and wide. Thaaaat’s right, yeah cum all on my cock.” Soap says, and you can’t help but spasm all over his cock again and on Gaz’s face as you cum.

Price watches all this happen sitting across from the couch, legs spread, smoking a cigar. He stands up, and starts approaching you, Soap, and Gaz.

“Well, well, what a fuckin show. But I think it’s my turn hm? Whaddya say bunny?” He says lifting your chin up from the position Gaz and Soap had you in, taking another drag of his cigar while Simon watches not too far away with his leaking cock in his hand.

“C’mon, you two have had your fun.” Price says to Soap and Gaz. He then sits next to Soap and pulls you onto his lap, away from the two men, and Simon moves to stand behind the couch next to Price.

“What a contrast. You completely naked and us fully clothed. So fuckin hot.” Price says while he grinds his clothed hard on against your bare dripping pussy, gripping your hips and pulling them down on his while he ruts his hips up, making you whine. “Wanna see that cute, pink little pussy of yours soak me through my fuckin pants.” He says as he continues his movements while you tip your head back and continue to grind down on him harder. “Uh uh look at me.” He says grabbing your jaw and yanking your head back down to look into his eyes. “You’re gonna fuckin look at me while you rub that tight little snatch on my thigh.” Price then lifts you so you’re straddling his thigh and he starts to move you back and forth again, the boys watching around you two on the couch in amusement.

“Whaddya think boys, do I let her cum again like this? Or on my cock.” Price says, takin a puff of his cigar and blowing the smoke back out at you. Simon then steps around the couch and sits next to you and Price. You’re now riding the Captain’s thigh while he grips your hip and smokes his cigar with Simon next to him on your left. Soap and Gaz are on Price’s other side to your right, all four men watching you like vultures on their prey.

“I think she’s been a good girl. Why not give her two cocks.” Simon says with a smirk in his deep, husky accent that makes you get impossibly wetter. “Whaddya say lovie?” Simon asks you as he tilts your chin to him while you’re still moving yourself on Price’s thigh, hands gripping on his thigh and his vest. You nod. “W- want you both. At the same time” you say, ironically a little embarrassed seeing you’ve already been ruined by the four big men in front of you.

Simon and Price look at each other and let out a teasing laugh at your desperate, pathetic sounding words. “Just can’t get enough can she?” Price says to Simon, then turning back to you. “You want more bunny? Hm? Want my cock in you while Simon fucks that pretty little mouth of yours?” You nod, lip between your teeth. “Ah ah use your words love.” Simon says. “Be a good girl and ask nicely.” You whine, embarrassed and intimidated by all the men’s eyes on you. “Need it. Need it please. Need it so bad.” You whimper out.

“Well, you heard the girl.” Price says smirking as he moves to take his thick cock out. He stands up and guides you to the side of the couch, while Simon scoots down to the arm rest you’re both standing by. Price kicks your feet out, spreading your legs as he grabs your hair and bends you over the arm rest of the couch, face directly above Simon’s leaking tip

“Spit on it.” Simon says, while Price starts to rub his cock back and forth against the folds of your cunt. You spit on Simon’s cock holding eye contact with him and give it a few pumps before wrapping your lips around it, sucking and giving it little innocent kitten licks. “Fuck keep looking at me like that and I’m not gonna be able to behave myself.” Simon says.

You smirk a little bit and Price starts to push into you, moving in slowly all the way to the hilt, turning your smirk into a cute little squeak, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Holy shit. God you’re fuckin tight. Taking me so well and I’ve barely started.” Price says as he grips your hip and grabs your hair, guiding your movements on Simon’s cock. Your back is arched over the arm of the couch, tits pressed against Simon’s thigh while you suck him off, ass clapping against Price’s thighs while he thrusts into you.

Soap and Gaz watch, sitting on the floor across from the three of you making snarky remarks and amused little laughs while sharing a drink from Soap’s flask. Price starts to pick up his pace while Simon groans and throws his head back. “Fuckkk just like that bunny. God your pretty mouth was just made for sucking cock wasn’t it? Look so pretty like this.” Simon says. Price grips your hair and your hip harder, still pounding into you from behind, your ass making a clapping noise against him. “Mm fuck. Can feel you clenching around me so tight. Such a perfect, tight, cunt. Just sucking me in. Greedy little thing. Look at that fat ass just bouncing on my cock.” Price says through clenched teeth and gives your ass a slap, making you jump and let out a little noise.

You feel both men start to get close to their highs and you do too. “Fuck gonna cum.” Simon says as he begins to thrust his hips up to meet your mouth, starting to face fuck you. You gag around his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks due to Simon’s cock choking you and the pleasure of Price stretching you out from behind.

“Gonna cum gonna cum gonna cum-“ Simon says under his breath tilting his head all the way back. Price then takes advantage of Simon’s quietness to talk so fuckin nasty to you. “Fuck look at you. Taking two cocks at once, you fucking minx. Yeah that’s right, let Simon face fuck you pretty girl. Suck him real good. Squeezing me so- fuckin tight I’m- fuck I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna cum in this tiny little pussy yeah? That what you want? Yeah? Cum for us first baby. Wanna feel you throb around me.”

You moan around Simon and clench around Price as you cum for another time that night, losing count of how many releases you’ve had. You kick your legs out and roll your eyes back but Price moves his hand from your hair and presses your torso down, keeping you in place as he fucks you harder. Your moaning around Simon and the fluttering of your pussy was the final push over the edge for the both of them as both men cum inside you. Warm spurts of cum filling you from both ends.

“Oh f- fuckkk” Simon moans with a high pitched whine while Price doesn’t take his eyes off of where you two connect as he lets out a deep groan and a hushed “fuckkk” as he cums inside you. The three of you stay there for a second, then Price gently grabs your arms and lifts you up so your back is pressed against his front, still buried deep inside you. Simon sits there and watches as Price hoists you up and admires your tear stained, gorgeous, post-fuck face, all glowy and tired-looking from getting used. Price guides you back to the couch, grabbing a towel to clean you up while Simon gets you water and a blanket and wraps it around your shoulders. The four men sit with you on the couch taking care of you and making sure you’re okay.

Then Soap says with a cheeky smile:

“Looks like we got ourselves a new member on the team.”

#cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #konig mw2 #konig #konig x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 #smut #call of duty #real #john price #soapghost #soap mw2 #soap x reader #task force 141 #call of duty mw3 #call of duty mwiii #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #kortac #specgru

[sprout-fics]

Teaser of this filthy bunny barracks reader oneshot for Wanksgiving

“Morning, bonnie.” Soap greets, pecking your temple as he loops a brawny arms around your middle, hauling you flush to him. “Sleep well?”

You murmur a sleepy little reply, something short of actual coherence, and it makes him chuckle. When he shifts, you feel the hard line of his body flat against your spine- and with it, the thick hardness of his cock straining in his trousers. You smile, arch into it eagerly, wiggling back to slot it between your ass cheeks. Soap groans into your shoulder, nipping at the bare flesh there before reaching down to fumble for his belt. 

“Fuck, hen. Needed you so bad this morning, but ye looked so pretty while you were sleeping, didn’t want to wake you.”

You don’t know why he didn’t. Soap knows, just like the rest of the team, that you’re available at all hours regardless of sleeping or not. That’s what you are for them- a pretty, perfect, pliant little fucktoy open at all times to warm their cocks. You gave up the life of a soldier long ago, choosing instead to be this thing you are now, spoiled rotten just so you take care of your boys the way they deserve.

Soap hikes your naked leg over his hip, slotting the flushed head of his cock between your folds and pushing home in one, slow thrust. 

“Johnny…” You slur, toes curling with the stretch of his girth settling comfortably inside you. The Scot moans into the dip of your neck, securing one hand on your hip while the other snakes up to your bare chest, rolling a nipple between his fingers. 

“Steamin’ Jesus.” He breathes, hot air fanning across your nape. “Fuckin’ perfect- tightest little cunt I’ve ever had, I swear-” He rolls gently into you, savoring, not in any rush. You groan openly, clamping down on the blissful drag of Johnny’s cock inside you. He’s barely pulling out, just grinding deeper inside you, stuffing you full of him and then keeping himself there trapped in the tight clutch of your heat.

#Enjoy heathens #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #141 x reader #cod smut #teasers

[forsworned]

Okay, okay, hear me out . I neeed a y/n sweet innocent thing who works with 141 (probably computer shit) idk but she wanted to step out her shell & goes out drinking with the boys were she loses a bet with soap & he makes y/n wear a skimpy outfit like those " hot nurse or maid" outfits around the team for a day and it makes price and/or ghost go absolutely feral . The end. Please and thank you p s love your writing.

Author's note: You know normally I do not do these sort of requests because I think that the whole like oh y/n needs to dress in something slutty because she lost a bet schtick is like somewhat demeaning. Like I'm all for it happening to the 141 or whatever but, I put my own spin on it, so even if you don't enjoy it I will but thank you for supporting me anon <3 also screaming at the images I chose for this hahaha

Despite the fact that being in the military was a constant inner battle of not becoming a barrack bunny, it made it a bit easier knowing that 90% of the men were just straight-up fucking whores. So when you lose 7-6 in back-to-back rounds of Blackjack to Johnny, he thinks it's funny to propose a bet that leaves you practically bare-ass naked to every soldier on base.

"'ll be like wearin' a bikini." He says.

To which you can give him a piercing glare that sends an unpleasant shudder up his spine, but regardless he's laughing his ass off. It's not exactly an everyday occurrence that Johnny is winning bets against you so he's taking advantage of the opportunity to embarrass you just as much as you do him.

Wolf whistles and cat calls are heard from the common area that the 141 was currently lounging in, and their ears perk up at the sound of heels clicking against the floor.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, you really wore it, bonnie." Johnny eyes are twinkling and his grin is stretched from ear to ear when he gets a gander at you.

You're wearing the sluttiest maid outfit you could have ever conjured up from many, many, many Halloween's ago when you were in your Chicks Gone Wild Era (iykyk) and Price, Kyle and Simon are flabbergasted by your appearance. Kyle is dropping his spoon that he just stirred his coffee with, Simon is half turning the page to his book and Price just straight up chokes on his London Fog, sputtering it all over his MacBook.

"Fuck you." You mutter, plopping down on the couch next to Simon as you readjust the mobcap on your head. Your dress is riding up as you sit, but you cross your legs and Price is handing you a pillow to cover yourself up to which you sheepishly smile up at him and thank him.

"Why are ye complainin'? Y'look good, bonnie."

"You put her up to this?" Kyle asks, bewildered at the situation unfolding.

"Lookin' good, Serg!" A passing herd of soldiers call out to you as they chuckle amongst themselves and continue to whistle at you.

You shake your head and turn to Johnny with an exasperated look. "Is this what you wanted? To embarrass me?"

"It's not very becoming of you, Johnny." Price murmurs against his mug before taking a sip but it's evident that his face is reddening by the second by your scanty appearance.

"Oh, she does it to me all th' time!" Johnny throws his hands up in half frustration and half amusement.

But Simon on the other hand is silent. He doesn't really know what to say, but he's starting to feel the warmth rushing between his legs.

"L.t., thoughts?"

And Johnny knows exactly what the fuck he's doing while he's shooting him that shit-eating grin that makes Simon want to fucking bumrush the absolute shit out of the Scotsman.

Admittedly this has Kyle and Price's tongues poking their cheeks as they await his answer.

"Y'r a fuckin' slag, Johnny."

And that causes the room to erupt into laughter as you're all clapping your knees and keeling over. Johnny is slightly embarrassed by the jab, but nonetheless, is laughing along. It was nice to have a little laugh in the 141.

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #sergeant soap #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price #simon riley x reader #captain price #captain price x reader #poly141 #x female reader #poly shenanigans #poly 141 x reader #crack fic

[himbowelsh]

anonymous asked:   Babe be so cute in that legendary darts scene no wonder Easy took him in right away. Look at him. You take one look at that kid and you want to protect him at all costs. He looks like he could bring you luck. Imagine Easy dragging Babe everywhere because Bill's team won some game once right after Babe started playing and everyone got it into their heads that Babe is their personal rabbit's foot. His friends running up to him to like rub his shoulder or touch his head because they gotta win!

ok so i just had to fic this, and it spiralled from there

Somewhere around Babe’s fourth Easter — and he only knows that because his brother Johnny was just a baby, and his sister wasn’t around at all — the family had an Unfortunate Rabbit Incident.

To be specific: Uncle Eddie tried to surprise the kids by bringing home a tiny bunny in a basket, surrounded by fake tissue paper grass. It was a real nice gesture... but got less Alice-In-Wonderland when the family’s dog, massive, shaggy Bumble, caught sight of the thing. 

Uncle Eddie set the basket down, and Bumble went straight for the kill.

The children were screaming. Bumble was missing for hours. The bunny fled the scene, vanishing somewhere into Babe’s rough South Philly neighborhood, never to be seen again. Ma ended up burning the ham. It was a traumatic Easter.

That’s just part of the reason rabbits have always made Babe shudder a little. The root of the problem — not that he’s the introspective sort, but some things just stay with you — was the old rabbit’s foot Nanny Heffron used to wear on a chain ‘round her neck. Now, Nanny Heffron was a real character. The rabbit’s foot wasn’t close to the weirdest thing about her — that’d be the glass eye — but it sure ranked up there. It was an old, ratty thing, hanging on a rust-rotten chain. In absent moments, Nanny’s hand would drift to it, and she’d rub the little devil like she was trying to press some life back into it. “This,” she declared once, holding the nasty ornament very close to little Babe’s face, “brings me all my luck.”

That next week, Nanny Heffron was run over by a taxi cab.

She survived, to be fair, so maybe there was something to be said for the rabbit’s foot. Still, that ain’t the point.

The worst ever Easter, or Nanny Heffron’s mummified rabbit foot… take your pick. Fact of the matter is, Babe’s never loved bunnies, Easter’s no favorite holiday, and he sure doesn’t believe little superstitious things bring any sort of luck.

He’s not sure he believes in luck at all, really. When he mentioned the word in front of Bill, his friend just scoffed. “Ain’t no luck in war,” Bill declared around a mouthful of ham-and-cheese sandwich. “You can be the luckiest bastard in the world, ‘til one day you’re not. What’s it matter then? If I’m standing in one spot and a fella’s standing right next to me, and he gets blown to bits, am I lucky it wasn’t me? Or was I just standing in the right place?”

“Think they’re the same thing,” Babe pointed out, sipping his juice doubtfully. “You’re thinking of destiny. Divine what’s-it-called.”

“That too,” Bill declared, holding up a finger. “Ain’t no such thing. Maybe seems like it back home, but not here… and if it ain’t here, it’s nowhere.”

“That don’t make sense either.”

“Don’t irrigate me, Babe,” Bill scoffed, and shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

But, like most of the half-sensical thing Bill says, Babe took it as gospel. For better or worse… ear is war. There’s no luck to it — only what happens to you, and what happens to the guy standing next to you.

Maybe if he paid more attention to things like superstition and general company gossip, he’d have caught on a bit sooner.

“It’s just strange, is all,” Hashey declares. “We get invited places too.” 

After all, it wasn’t like their generation were green replacements anymore; they’d jumped into Holland, and suffered the rains of Market Garden like everybody else. Now, the Toccoa boys reached outside their circle for extra hands in games of craps and darts, and never looked sideways when older replacements joined their drinking games. They didn’t mind having Hashey or Garcia in their party… but, for some reason, the offer was always extended to Babe, and they always insisted he accept.

Which would be fine, if it were just one of two nights — but they’re going on their second week in Mourmelon now, and Babe’s been dragged out every single night.

He’s got to sleep… ideally, sleep off this constant hangover, from night after night of drinking. Just a few hours of downtime, that’s all he’s asking here. Is it really so much?

For the fellas, yes, apparently. “I tried to tell ‘em no,” he protests, looking helplessly between his two fellow former replacements. “But they wouldn’t take that for an answer. You ever gone up against Luz and Toye when they’re set on something? It ain’t pretty.”

“Why don’t they make such a big deal about us going out?”

The opportunity is there. It's too easy for Babe to summon a grin. “Maybe they don’t like yous as much as me, huh? I’m a popular guy.”

“Sure.” Garcia huffs a laugh. “That’s what it is.”

Babe pauses just to blink at him, thoroughly offended.

“Jeez, Tony, tell me how you really feel.”

“We only mean,” Hashey interjects, drowning out Garcia’s very vocal eye roll, “it’s obvious why they want you there. Think about it, Babe. Any time someone’s going up for a round of darts —“

“Lieutenant Compton started it,” Garcia declares. “Back in Aldbourne. He set the example.”

Buck Compton is a hulking quarterback with a booming voice, bigger than most guys in personality alone; he’s good at setting examples. Maybe Babe modeled his dart throwing technique after Buck, but he really didn’t pick up on anything else. As his eyes narrow, he plants his hands on his hips — an eerie imitation of his Ma — and peers at his friends. “So what are you boys implying?”

Hashey and Garcia exchange glances, almost guilty, before they look back up at him again. “They don’t want you as a drinking buddy, Babe,” Hashey finally says. “You’re their rabbit’s foot.”

And that’s the point Babe Heffron’s social life takes a turn for the bizarre and slightly unsettling.

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

The thing is, once he’s noticed it, there’s no unnoticing it. Everything that seemed so innocuous before has taken on a darker meaning. Now, when Luz claps him on the shoulder before starting a game of craps, or when Hoobler ruffles his hair just before going in on a bet, it doesn’t feel so friendly. Whenever he’s dragged into a game of darts or pool — inevitably to get trounced himself, but see the fella who convinced him to join come out winning — he catches the looks they shoot him, like he’s just handed them some sorta prize. 

He doesn’t like it. It leaves him feeling used, dammit.

When Perconte solicits his opinion on some bet, Babe shoots out the first answer he thinks of. A part of him probably tries to get it wrong, just to spite them all.

Perconte wins three-hundred bucks.

The worst part is, it’s clearly been knowledge to everyone but him this entire time. When Julian — Julian, outta everybody! — pats his back before stepping up to the dartboard, Babe glares daggers at him.

“You kidding me? You’re in this too?”

“It’s science, Heffron,” the kid just shrugs. “Maybe you don’t mean to do it, but whatever you’re doing, it’s working. People keep winning.”

“I’m not doing a—“ Babe’s exclamation cuts off when Julian throws the dart. A goddamn bullseye, on his first try.

Babe’s so agitated that when it’s his turn to throw, the dart buries itself into the wall. He doesn’t even hit the target.

Somewhere beyond the grave, Nanny Heffron’s gotta be just cackling.

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

Babe’s newfound revelation lets him beg a few excuses for nights he just doesn’t want to go out. Nine times out of ten, though, he gets dragged into something anyways, be it a craps game in the barracks or a lottery in the mess hall. Even Babe’s solitude isn’t really that, because fellas still come up to him whenever they apparently feel like it — clapping his shoulder with a “Hey, Heffron,” or “How’s it going, Babe?” before bee lining straight to their game. There’s no peace. There’s no sanity. The non-coms are in on it, the Toccoa men, the replacements… he’s just about ready to decide that nothing can surprise him when Harry Welsh comes up behind him in the pub and ruffles his hair out of nowhere.

Babe yelps, doubling over his mug of beer. When he reels around, he couldn’t be more affronted if he tried. “You too, Lieutenant?”

Harry just shrugs, flashing a gap-toothed grin. “Don’t take it personal, Heffron. Daddy needs a shinier pair of boots.”

“It’s all malarkey, you know. Like — actual malarkey,” he can’t help shouting after Harry as he heads across the room towards a game of poker. “Ain’t no such thing as luck!”

Without looking back, Harry laughs. “If you really think that, you don’t deserve to call yourself Irish.”

“Y’know, the luck of the Irish has historically been fuckin’ terrible!”

At this point, Babe’s really just shouting across the pub, and no one cares. Absolutely no-freakin’-one.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry makes his way back across the room, struggling to tuck a massive wad of cash into his pants pocket. “The luck of the Heffron has historically been absolutely incredible,” he declares, and ruffles Babe’s hair once more for good luck. “Thanks, Private.”

Babe drains his beer and orders another.

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

Bill comes back in the second week of December, when Easy has already made themselves very comfortable in their rest period. Babe greets his friend with enthusiasm, smacking Bill on the back hard enough to rattle him. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” he crows, and means it — because Bill Guarnere don’t take any guff. If anyone’s gonna put an end to this whole “Lucky Babe” nonsense, it’s him.

The last thing Babe expects is for Bill to become the worst of them all.

“Come on, kid! Just one smooch, that’s all it’ll take.”

As Bill rattles the dice insistently in his face, Babe twists away. Biting him is too tempting, but if anyone would bite back, it’d be Wild Bill. Babe’s not taking any chances with that jaw of his. “Get the hell outta here,” he snaps instead, shoving at his best friend’s chest. “What do I look like to you, a goddamn horseshoe?”

“I’ve seen horseshoes prettier than you. Now, c’mon.” Ever persistent, Bill rounds to Babe’s other side, still shaking the dice. “Make like they’re Darlin’ Doris’s dumplings and pucker up!”

“I’m a gentleman on the first date,” Babe insists, glaring.

Bill makes a noise somewhere between a snarl and choking on his own spit. He rolls his eyes skyward… and, just because Babe’s the best damn friend any fool’s ever had, he gives the dice a reluctant blow. “There. Now get lost, will ya?”

Hooting, Bill races off to join the game. He leaves it a hundred dollars richer.

“Knew we keep you around for a reason, kid!” he crows afterwards, waving his money around the bar like he’s showing off his own child. It's around this time Babe goes from considerably annoyed to genuinely offended.

It’s not quite the idea that his friends don’t actually like him — because of course they like him, he’s a goddamn delight — but that they’re willing to use that liking to their advantage. Babe’s a buddy, and buddies shouldn’t be props; he’s not some lucky trinket you tuck into your pocket before a night out, he’s a human being. A sensitive soul! If they’re gonna use him as a prop, they may as well just tell him.

“So we know Heffron ain’t gonna win anything tonight, but he’s out to make all of us a lot richer,” Liebgott declares, clapping Babe on the back as they sit in a circle for a game of craps.

“I hope you shit bricks for a week,” Babe, the sensitive soul, declares.

It’s not like he’s their only option. Malarkey’s ginger, he’s Irish, and he loves to gamble! What’s more, he survived D-Day on top of Market Garden, and hasn’t been injured yet, so his luck is clearly going just fine for him.

When he points this out, Malarkey spits out his own drink, and Muck nearly falls off his chair laughing. “Someone’s never been gambling with Malarkey!”

“He loses money faster than they can print it,” Penkala chimes, swatting away Don’s retaliatory grab for his sandwich. “Complete opposite effect. Games break up when they see him coming.”

“People take their money and run!” Muck snickers.

Malarkey, flared up like an indignant pigeon, has to chime in. “Yeah, cause they know I’m gonna take it from them!”

It’s scary how quickly Muck sobers, turning on a dime; the smile melts from his face as he sits straight up, laughter dying off into eerie stillness. “Malark,” he says, staring his friend dead in the eyes. “You owe me over three hundred dollars.”

Penkala’s eyes bulge. Babe takes a large step back, suddenly terrified for the safety of his own wallet.

“That’s not — hey, come on! If Babe would just blow on my cards a little, or something — Babe! Hey, Babe, are you playing cards tonight? Where are you going?”

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

The last person he expects to be pouring his heart out to, somewhere around midnight, after an evening of questionable French beer and avoiding his friends’ efforts to leech off his karma, is Doc Roe.

The Doc makes a habit of not fraternizing with any of the men, which Babe can almost understand… but even saints have gotta drink sometimes, and tonight happens to be Roe’s night. He’s probably have gladly passed the evening alone, sitting in the back of the bar with a book open in front of him, if Babe hadn’t retreated to the shadows to hide from Bill’s dice.

“It just ain’t fair!” he declares, swirling the amber liquid in his half-empty glass. Fifth? Sixth? Who knows anymore? “‘Parently I’m a lightning rod of luck for everybody else. Everybody else… and I don’t even get any of it myself? Not a lick.” His mug clatters back down on the table, as Babe tilts his head back to glare at the pub’s wooden ceiling. “Somebody’s playing games up there, and I don’t appreciate it.”

Roe would be completely justified not engaging with this conversation at all. For some reason, he humors Babe. “Look at it this way, Heffron,” he says slowly, dragging each word out in that honey-sweet drawl ‘til Babe wishes he could drink that up too. “You ever been hit?”

Babe snorts. “No, Doc. I think I’d remember.”

“So would I.” Roe arches an eyebrow. He almost looks amused. “You ever been blown up?”

Babe double-checks to see if his arms and legs are intact. “Hmm. Not that I know of.”

“A lot of guys can’t say the same. Seems like your luck is working just fine.”

“But —“ He fumbles for words, startled. Now Roe is smirking, a quiet, half-shadowed thing. For some reason, it leaves Babe feeling dumb. Which could be all the drink, sure, but he’s no lightweight, and liquor’s never made him feel like this. Nothing about Roe’s smile is mocking, yet Babe somehow feels like the butt of the joke anyways. Dissatisfied, he finally slumps forward, leaning over the tabletop with a sigh. “It ain’t the same.”

Roe considers this for a long moment. His white fingers play over the pages of his book, contemplating turning it, but he ultimately just ends up leaving creases in the white canvas. When Roe leans forward too — until his chest is pressed against the tabletop, leaving them nearly nose-to-nose — it takes Babe aback.

“Remember when you fell through that stair rail in Neunen and nearly split your head open like a melon?” Roe asks, eyes black and serene.

“But I didn’t!” Babe exclaims, eager to defend his honor. It’d hurt a lot, sure, but he’s made it through worse accidents unscathed. Broken a lot of things, sure, but never himself.

Roe’s lips twitch up in a smirk. He drums his fingers on the tabletop, so close that Babe can hear them, can see every individual impact register in the Doc’s shoulder. When Gene Roe smiles, he looks younger, lighter.

“Your luck’s working just the way it should be, Heffron.”

Babe’s family has another popular saying — “knock on wood”, when someone says something a bit too good to be true. It’s no rabbit’s foot, maybe… but as a kid, Babe took the saying literally, and got bloody knuckles for his trouble.

For the first time, though… he feels like he’s actually won something. Doc Roe’s little smile is all for him, and Babe doesn’t have to share it with anyone at all.

“Hey, Doc,” he says after a moment, voice deceptively light. “You up for a game of darts?”

#had to repost this because it posted weird #there's like... cameos from everybody in here #and if you don't think babe's the type of person to tell a really bizarre personal story on the way to some roundabout point u are wrONg #band of brothers #babe heffron #hbo war #my writing

[flatstarcarcosa]

there’s a period after basic where the unsc has to split me and felix up because we have different....whatever the haloverse version of a MOS is (yes im p sure they’ve changed that acronym irl and that i think it’s also only the army that used it, no i do not care)

i’m using the mechanic experience and degree i already have, so i end up actually needing less post basic training than he does. i end up at our first duty posting before he does. 

but there’s like one weekend between this time where something about relationships come up (his dumbass fell for a fuckin barracks bunny like a goddamn slut smh) and i’m like 

full offense but why couldn’t we just. date each other? we’ve been living together for like three/four years by this point, literally what would change? 

and he ends up getting hung up on the idea of ‘well what if it doesn’t work out and then we hate each other and can’t be friends again’ 

and he says this of course while being completely unaware of the irony that he’s currently sprawled across my lap like a spoiled house cat 

#txt.txt #ship: save me some sunshine