Soap X You - Blog Posts

You moving slightly only to meet ghosts ribs with the bridge of your nose smelling his body wash as soap chin rested on your back,you hum and move your hand over his body fingertips moving over his firm built, feeling him flex as he looks over. You open an eye and smile seeing him Leaning against the headboard with whatever book in hand. He gently brought his hand down to stroke your cheek and smiles “ sleep well” you smile nodding and turn your head to see soap still sleeping soundly. You turn having his head rest on your chest, ghost places his book down turning to wrap his arms around you and soap pulling you both close as his lips connected with your neck he groans moving his hand to your breast moving his fingers lightly. You giggled leaning your head back “ needy this early” his crystal orbs move to your face just filled with admiration, soap lightly moves signaling he’s awake opening his eyes he smiles seeing ghost and you . He moves up smirking as he kisses the other side of his neck. You playfully groan “not you too” they both chuckle. Soap Intertwines our fingers as his lips linger on your bare shoulder, ghosts hand moves to your stomach gently moving his thumb in circles as he kisses your jaw moving towards the side of your face near your ear playfully leaving wet kisses along your face as you feel soap kisses turn nippy, you only sigh as your body becomes jello under them both. Ghost moves to remove your shirt, revealing your breast as soap moves your shorts, you only hum with their movements most are Hesitant as they are looking for your objection but only meet with consenting eyes and noises. The movement’s weren’t sexual or rushing just two men who loved their women deeply. Ghosts moves lower bring his lips to you breasts as soap does the same each man doing their own thing, it was passionate kisses and sloppy nips as each of their hands moved down your body, ghost cupping your butt as soap cupped your breast, both moving slowly as ghosts hand Continued to wonder your body soon soaps hand did the same, ghost gently moved your leg up as he moved down kissing your ribs lazily moving his tongue over your stomach kissing/nipping your bare hip seeing the scars and bruises moving to your thighs gently leaving sloppy kisses, soap moved up to your lips fingers running through your hair as he kissed your lips. Humming into your mouth as you wrapped an arm around him, the bed shifted next to you as ghost moved back up, nearing both your faces. As you pulled away turning to meet ghosts lips as soaps hand held ur jaw trying to move ya back possessively. Times like this made them wish they never choose to share you, each man feeling jealousy rise only to see the love the other holds for you. You hum into ghosts lips as your face moves back to soap, their eyes meet both dark primal like. You look between them and smile seeing how greedy both are “ ooo guys come on play nice” they hum as soap kisses ya again, ghost grabs his loose hair moving his forward moving over you to kiss soap roughly slightly pinning him to the other side as ghosts chests hovers over you, you bite your lip and smile, something about them being intimate always made your gut bubble. Their own chemistry was so fascinating to you, both men of equal strength brought together just by little you still amazed you. You smile moving to kiss ghosts neck as he still hungrily kissed soap, ghost only did this when he felt like soap forgot his place or when he missed him, everyone knew ghost was the dom nobody dared challenged him,not even you. His presence alone made ya a dumb bimbo for him, from his words to just him. You and soap would gladly admit to being wiped for him. He knew it too seeing how he would grab your throat if you were being bratty and grabbing the back of soaps neck. It was his form of warning to us both. You glance over seeing soaps face become completely red as his brows knitted together, his submission to ghost made him so cute to you, ghost pulled away as they both breathed heavily. You playfully kiss the side of soaps mouth.

Ghost eyes are soft but yet so dark as he watches your action. “ fuck off doll” you giggle moving to sit up, soap rests his arm over his eyes as you still see big chest rise and fall rapidly catching his breath, you move on top of him as his hand moved over your bare back, ghost leans over kissing your back nipping your should as he cups your butt. Gently grabbing and feeling how it fills his hands. Ghost was an ass guy and soap a boob guy. Ghost lays by soap as your head rests on soaps chest and smile at ghost, he pulls the blanket up cover you both and hums an I love you as you three enjoy the sun heat and calmness in the room.

Random thoughts

I giggle lightly as ghost wraps his arms around my waist as I stand close to him, I wrap my arms around his head and giggle more, his nose above my belly button and forehead in my chest as he just huffs pulling me closer, I gently run my fingers through his short hair and smile as I feel another pair of arms from behind me wrap around my shoulders and a their chin on my head “ ooo bonnie” I smile looking up kissing him as he hums, ghost hums moving me away from the scot. Only to have soap smile. Looking down I catch ghosts this and hum, moving my lips slowly to a peck then a full kiss my lip under his upper one as his teeth nip at my lip lightly before kissing me again roughly , he hums Turing it into a make out session as soap kisses the back of my neck. Ghost hums moving to stand up not breaking the kiss both men had ya between them as each held a part of you, ghost cupped your face as soap interwoven your fingers all eyes closed as each consumed each other. Ghost pulls back breathing lightly as he looked at ya you leaned your head back on soaps shoulder and he just admired how you looked at peace between them.

NEEDED this

Soap is the last person anyone would expect to want a wife as desperately as he does but oh. Does that boy think about marriage more than anything else.

Switch!Reader 🤝 Switch!Johnny where he sucks the strap and calls you daddy when you're topping and he edges you relentlessly until you cum so hard you pass out when he's topping

peristalsis - ii.

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." 4.9k. . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

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You sleep long enough that, when you wake up, you have enough energy to cry.

It’s a big one. The kind of cry that threatens to turn your throat out, with how hard you sob. Alone in the cottage, far away from anything resembling civilization, you wail like wounded animal, choking on your own tears and mucus, losing track of your body buried underneath the covers—

But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why it’s happening at all—but long past trying to figure it out.

This is how it’s been for a while. There’s nothing special about it anymore. Nothing urgent. Most of the time, you are a blank space of a person, a vacuum where joy or rage or fear should be, but occasionally some maelstrom or another kicks up to fill it in, and your only course of action is to ride it out until it ends.

You’ve stopped trying to fix it. And you’ve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.

So you cry, until at last, you’re empty again. Or you’re too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once it’s done, you get out of bed.

The pressure in the shower is as weak as Johnny reported, but the water is indeed warm when you turn it on; you stand naked under the flow, arms hanging at your sides.

The day stretches itself out before you with nothing to occupying it, just as you’d planned. Nothing to work towards; no effort to put forward. Nothing, thanks to your choice of locale, to feel guilty about not seeking out.

A day of peace and utter quiet.

Suddenly—violent banging, somewhere in the cottage. It startles you; you jump so sharply at the noise that you smack your wrist on the soap caddy attached to the shower wall. The banging comes again—annoyed, you realize with no little bemusement that someone is at the front door.

You wrap yourself in a towel and hobble out of the bathroom to answer it, a piece of your mind on your tongue, dart-shaped and ready to fly—

Of course it’s Johnny.

Johnny, big and burly in a sweater, kilt, and pelt once again, two paper cups balanced in one large hand and a grocery bag hanging from the other. Whose dark brows shoot up his forehead as his eyes travel with surprise, and blatant appreciation, down the dripping length your body.

“Well, good mornin’, bonnie,” he purrs.

“What,” you grunt. A cold breath of wind chooses that moment to force its way through the door, gasping across the shower water still running in rivulets from your hair to the rolled edge of your towel. Goosebumps erupt from your bare skin in millions of simultaneous pinpricks—you flinch bodily at the chill.

“Ah, hell’s bells, don’t just stand there,” Johnny says, following the wind. “It’s freezin,’ go on, let me get in, hurry.”

You let him step inside, for some reason, and he shuts the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wastes no time after that, heading to the kitchen to set down his things.

“Brought breakfast!” he says cheerfully. “There’s this bakery on Barra I thought you’d like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but there’s sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.”

“I don’t want breakfast,” you say.

“What? ‘Course you do. I’m no’ takin’ you seal-watchin’ on an empty stomach.”

He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to say—I never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for starters—but your stomach growls at him before you can. The aroma of fresh-baked pastry wafts through the kitchen when he opens one box, and he turns to grin at you, cheeks dimpling.

“Do you get dressed, bonnie,” he says. “It’ll still be here when y’get back.”

It is less polite than he perhaps intends it to be, given that his gaze travels appreciatively across your bare shoulders. You cross your arms fruitlessly over your chest and, nothing else for it, retreat to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

You return to the kitchen after having pulled on wool leggings and the same fleecy sweater from the day before. Johnny, one hip set against the counter, has a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cruller in the other, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

“Got anythin’ heavier?” he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. “Gets cold out there.”

You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. “You seem alright.”

“I’m used to it,” he says, shrugging—the muscles flexing under your gaze.

You purse your lips. “I don’t have anything.” You hadn’t intended to leave the cottage overmuch.

You approach the counter. Johnny does not move a centimeter, forcing you to stand close as you pick through the two boxes of doughnuts and feel the body heat radiating off of him, displacing the scent of fried dough with his musk.

“That’s all right,” he says. You’re close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. “I can keep you warm.”

You snatch a plain glazed from the box and take two very large steps away from him. The hair on the back of your neck lifts as you press against the sink behind you. If he notices your reaction, it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest—he lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, eyes sliding closed with simple, obvious pleasure, dark lashes curling against his cheek.

You take the brief respite from his gaze to stare at him. In the morning light, on a full night of sleep, you can almost believe that whatever you’d seen in him yesterday had been nothing more than a misfire of exhausted synapses. An overlay of a dream; a circadian prompt to rectify nearly seventeen hours of sleeplessness. You’d been cold, and tired, and hungry. That was all.

You bite down on your doughnut, not really tasting it. The nerves along your spine twitch and contract around the memory of his flashing gaze.

His eyes open again, and he smiles at you. “Good?” He flicks a look at the single bite you’ve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.

“It’s fine,” you grumble. Then, “How did you get here? I didn’t hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?”

“Sometimes,” he says. He looks pleased that you’ve asked, that you’re interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. “Live on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.”

“A…boat,” you say.

“Aye.” A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. “Nice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.” He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. “But it’s still a sight nicer than some other places I’ve slept.”

He’s likely hinting at his military service. “Okay,” is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.

He smirk—undeterred. “We’ll take her out once you’re ready.”

“I never said I was going.”

Dark brows lift. “Got somethin’ else planned for today?” he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldn’t want to hang out with him.

“No, I—”

You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing you’d wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at all—and in fact, you hadn’t even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.

Much less proactively address.

“No,” you repeat, sulking.

Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they don’t belong; but there’s an insight to them. A sharp awareness. A perception in his gaze that is just as undressing, as if whatever is going on with you is visible to the naked eye.

“I figure,” he says, slowly, as if to coax, “you put your wee shoes on, an’ I’ll pack this back up, and we take it along.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you grouse. “I don’t need you to, like—be my tour guide.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean I don’t wanna,” he retorts, smiling.

He shoves the last bite of cruller in his mouth and gazes patiently at you as he works it with his jaw, the muscles flexing along his temples as he chews.

Exhaustion, your constant companion, stares you down alongside him. It would take so much more energy to fight him than to go along with whatever he has planned. Energy you just don’t have anymore. And going along doesn’t mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourself—it’s not like you care enough about Johnny’s self-esteem to conjure up a happy face to show him.

You can go, and be a bitch about it, and once you do maybe he’ll realize you’re not at all worth the effort he’s making, and then finally leave you alone.

“Fine,” you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.

It’s an old vessel—that much is obvious. Its edges and corners are dull with the passage of time and constant maintenance, scuffed by innumerable passes-over with cleaner and cloth. Mildew competes with the aroma of fresh varnish as Johnny leads you onto the bridge, which is mercifully closed in from the ocean wind.

The interior is mostly wood of a warm, orangish variety—you can’t tell if that’s a decision made with aesthetics or function in mind. The space comprises a kitchen, surprisingly well-appointed with a stove, sink, countertop, and fridge, and a small sitting area with both couch and booth seating. Surrounding windows allow in the grey light of the morning.

“Bought it off an old bloke on Lewis,” Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.

If you’d thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, you’d have been wrong—he seems to have no trouble with that and talking, incessantly, at the same time, as he pulls the vessel away from the cove and into the open water.

“All his family moved to the mainland, he told me, an’ this is after generations fishin’ these islands, even makin’ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countin’ someone else’s money.” He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. “Held on for a while, but people just kept leavin,’ an’ he was gettin’ too old to go out on his own. Got such a good price on it, I think he was just happy someone else was gonna take up the tradition.”

“Did he sell you the cottage too?” you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.

“Yup,” he says. “No one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethin’ special about it.”

He turns to smile at you—no doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.

“Imagine someday I’ll have my own family here,” he continues. “Good place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.”

“If people stop leaving,” you mutter.

He turns to you again. “I’m no’ worried about that,” he replies. He’s still smiling. “You came here, after all.”

You have nothing to say to that.

The trip is a short one—Johnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersay’s tiny dot in the North Atlantic. Unlike the latter, he says, this island has not been inhabited since 1912, and has been completely reclaimed by the ocean and its wildlife.

After he drops anchor offshore, Johnny disappears down a steep flight of stairs below deck, which he had not offered a tour of, and emerges a short time later with a large, bulky coat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. “Here, turn ‘round.”

You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You don’t know exactly why you comply—it occurs to you that if you grabbed for the jacket, he could simply not let go of it, and you would end up exactly where he wants you anyway. So you lower your arm and, resigned, give him your back.

He steps up behind you. Warmth pours off of him, more than you think any human body should be able to generate.

You hear him inhale, deeply, as he brings the jacket to your back. As you slide your arms into the sleeves, you feel his exhale on the nape of your neck, teasing through individual follicles of hair.

“There w’go,” he murmurs, much closer than you expected.

You can hear the low hum of his voice in his chest; his hands linger on your shoulders far longer than they need to, heavy, big enough that his index fingers brush along your collarbones.

When his hands make to slide down your back you step away from him and fumble to zip the jacket up; he chuckles lightly behind you. When you turn to face him, his lips are curled—smug.

“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get out there.”

He rows the two of you to shore in a small kayak, two pairs of binoculars in your lap as you huddle away from the wind. You’ll be walking to the haul-out, he says—getting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.

“It’s grey seals we’re gonna see,” he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. “Not the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you don’t need it. You think he takes your attempts to shake him off as proof of your lack of balance, because he grasps you all the tighter every time.

“I’m not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,” you finally snap at him.

“Just bein’ a gentleman, bonnie,” he replies nonchalantly. He does not let you go.

As you get closer, you hear the seals before you see them, and when their voices reach you across the open island, you stop dead.

Groaning, grunting, hissing in a cacophonous chorus. Some part of your hindbrain double-takes, reshuffles itself—some ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If you’d been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, you’re not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.

Certainly not like what you hear now—

Like people.

Johnny grins at you when he notices. “Aye, it’s a right ruckus, innit?”

He leads you up a small rise, where he has the two of you settle belly-down over the machair to overlook the wedge of rocky coast that the colony has claimed for its own.

And when you finally see it—it’s underwhelming.

Perhaps two hundred long, fat bodies, in varying shades of brown and grey, lay indolently along the rocks, in groups of three or four, some heavily galumphing from one place to another while others roll occasionally from side to side. The shifting winds catch their scent and blow it uncaringly into your face; you nearly gag at the admixture of dead fish and ammonia.

It doesn’t escape you that this is a rare thing to witness; you are not wholly immune to the fact that you are only a hundred meters away from something most people only encounter on a screen. It’s just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narrator’s breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, what’s left for you to observe is a population of wet, stinking animals, shitting where they lay, vocalizing without cease while they laze about doing basically nothing.

Johnny does not seem to notice your disillusionment; he hands you one pair of binoculars, and directs your attention to activity along the shoreline. You follow to where he’s pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.

“Little one there—” Johnny says, “that’s a female, probably obvious. Big one knows she’s ready to mate, can smell it on her.”

The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.

“Doesn’t look like she agrees,” you mutter.

“She’s just givin’ him a hard time. She’s all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,” Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. “She’s got to fuss to feel all in control.”

You flush. “Right.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you say. “He’s—he’s just bothering her.”

He gazes at you for a moment, contemplative. Corners of his mouth quirking upward. He does not reply for a long moment, long enough that you have to avert your gaze from his.

“Nah,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’re imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. “She wants it bad as he does.”

You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binoculars—the pair is still facing off, gurgling and growling at each other. The female is slim, almost sleek, unlike most of the other seals populating the rookery.

“Is she sick?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they don’t eat in the meantime.”

“Jesus.”

“Be nice if the dads ever brought ‘em a bite, aye?” Johnny agrees. “Deadbeats, the lot of them.”

The two of you survey the colony in silence for a moment. As the morning wears on, the cloud covering thins overhead, allowing cool sunlight to filter through. The temperature doesn’t rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnny’s jacket a little tighter around you.

Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.

“Got some pups over there,” he says. “Look, by the kelp.”

You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. They’re fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnny’s pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.

“Sometimes,” Johnny murmurs, “search and rescue’ll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you say.

“Aye,” says Johnny. “Always makes me think that’s where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.”

A small ways away, some of the mothers lay with their pups far into the surf, letting the waves break over them. You watch as one mother thunks her large head overtop of her pup’s as the water rushes toward them; the pup wriggles, and then, as the wave engulfs them, it begins to thrash, whipping up a panicked froth.

“Time for swimming lessons already?” Johnny muses. “Seems early.”

You’re horrified. “She’s going to drown it!”

The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. “Just watch,” says Johnny.

The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pup’s thrashing calms as the air meets its face once again; the cow allows the pup to lift its head, and after a few sputters, the pup seems no worse for wear.

“They’re hardier than they look, bonnie,” Johnny says.

His hand, heavy and warm even over his borrowed jacket, slides down from your shoulders to your lower back, and then he rubs, slowly, side to side, as if to comfort you—but the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.

“Last of the births this season, looks like,” he says. “Mum’s getting ready to leave—probably not the only one.”

Something hard drops into your stomach.

“They leave their babies?” you ask.

“Aye. Once they’re done nursing, they mate, and then they go.”

You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its mother’s belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterested—more, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and she’s bored of even having to think about it.

Bored—and already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.

“That’s horrible,” you say.

“They’re solitary animals, bonnie,” Johnny says, not ungently. “The only time they’re really all together is for this.”

A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremor—foreshocks. The wind picks up, bringing a sharp chill off the ocean and up the rise that cuts into your stinging eyes, abrades the naked skin of your hands and the exposed part of your neck.

When you look through your binoculars again, you wonder how many of the pups you see have already been abandoned.

“Aw, bonnie,” Johnny says. There’s a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.

“I want to leave,” you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. “Take me back to the cottage.”

“Bonnie, it’s okay!” Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. “The pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.”

You glare at him, vision blurring. “All of them?”

Some part of you knows you’re being irrational—knows that nature is a cruel home, and that many children face worse fates than the seal pups. Abandoning the young, the needy, is no aberration; it is, in fact, far more the standard than the human practice, which lingers for decades—

Most of the time.

Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s the first time that cocky aura, which seems to rest in every fine line on his face and every angle at which he holds his body, is completely absent.

He isn’t reflecting your anger back at you, though—he’s internalizing it. Letting it hit him, you think, and trying to use it to figure you out.

You do not want to be figured out.

You scoff again. “Take me back,” you repeat, and then you start walking in the direction you came, without waiting for him to follow.

Johnny drops you off in the cove, and thankfully does not linger this time before he departs—he bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.

You retreat, seeking the cottage’s empty quiet.

As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator hum—the wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roof—your own heart beating a drum in the arteries of your neck.

Percussive. Quick and hard. Like heavy knockers on a door. Pounding as if to burst through.

You realize you’re still wearing Johnny’s jacket, and you throw it off, disgusted with yourself. You get up and pace, and try to ignore it lying in a heap on the floor.

You do something you swore you wouldn’t do the moment you set foot on the island—you turn your phone back on.

True to Johnny’s word, there’s no signal. You picked this island, this part of the world, for a reason; for the past several years, a slow exodus from the British isles has vacated the need for dedicated cell towers or satellite or internet access, especially given that the only ones who remain are too old now to want it or need it or know how to use it.

It’s isolated. Cut off. Left behind by anyone with better options, and only clung to by those trying to preserve the only way of life they know.

Some kinder part of you belongs with that demographic; the part that was telling your mother the truth, before getting on the plane.

The rest of you holds your phone up and starts walking around.

In the furthest corner in the bedroom, you find a single bar of signal. A tiny chip of connectivity—a thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.

It’s a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a while—you stand there, waiting.

The screen dims. You tap it again.

Blank.

You unlock it, look through your apps. Wonder if maybe your notifications are bugged by your new SIM card.

Nothing—

No one.

You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wall—it hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.

You’re out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far away—you want to be far away, far from everything, so far that nothing could possibly reach you. You trudge down the path toward the beach, banding your arms across your chest, shivering in the cold, and yet you hardly feel it.

Not worth it. No point. Waste of your time. Energy. All of it. Stop trying. Stop wanting. Nothing. Nothing. You want nothing.

You’re halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what you’re going to do when you get there, when you catch sight of a body on the sand.

You gasp, a sharp breath down your larynx, and freeze in a dead halt.

The body is completely still.

A swimmer? A diver? It’s dark, like it just pulled itself out of the ocean—or washed up—

Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.

A seal. It’s a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.

You stand motionless. You’re very close—much closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadn’t contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen today, you’re sure of it. Bigger, you think, than most adult men. Its pelt is a riot of every shade of grey, splashy, like liquid paint thrown across a canvas. Black speckles scatter overtop of marbled white and cool slate, and down the center of its back is a broad, dark line, soft at the edges, which reaches all the way up to the top of the seal’s head.

The bull—it must be male—turns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyes—

Fear suddenly zips up your spine as it looks right at you.

You stumble backward and trip on your own feet, landing hard on your ass. Johnny’s care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring couple’s bared teeth.

They can’t move that fast on land, right? They aren’t interested in people, right?

You scramble backward. It’s so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to you—threw itself over you—it could crush you with its weight alone—

The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.

You pause.

Its small eyes are dark and glossy—watchful and focused. The whiskers on its muzzle twitch a little as it takes you in. It breathes, deeply and evenly, huge body expanding and contracting at a slow, calm tempo. Its—his—nostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.

Unafraid.

If anything—curious.

Then he snorts, and wriggles in place. It startles a laugh out of you, more reaction than humor. Still watching you, the bull lowers his head back down, resting it again on the sand.

Your heartbeat abates. He doesn’t move again—nor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.

Wary. No sudden movements.

He doesn’t react; only continues to watch you.

You draw your knees up. Wrap your arms around your shins, and dust a bit of sand from your leggings. Rest your chin in the crevice between your knees.

There’s an intelligence in the bull’s eyes that is fathoms deep. There is a massive gulf between his experience of the world and yours, millennia of evolution separating your species from his—and yet…as you hold his gaze, you recognize the look in it.

Him, seeing you. And seeing you see him. The pendulum swinging between awareness of each other, and recognition of that shared awareness.

An empty space in the cloud cover passes overhead; sunlight touches the earth, warms it briefly before disappearing again. You wonder a little why this bull isn’t with the other seals.

Johnny would probably know.

“I didn’t come for you, you know,” you grumble at him.

The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you don’t share any language.

You sigh. “I guess you didn’t come to see me either,” you say.

But you don’t move away.

And you stay like that for a long while, you and he—regarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.

next chapter early access

a/n: follow for more seal facts™

Also huge thanks to Lev for trawler listings/info. Didn't explore it much this chapter but Soap's boat will show up more soon :)

The only one I want (Soap x reader)

You was Johnny's best friend (as well as being madly in love with him since you met him over 10 years ago) but when he got into the SAS it meant he had to move and due to your jobs you hadn't been able to see each other for about 5 years. Well that was until Ghost rang you about surprising Johnny for his birthday and he really wanted you to be there. It was all going great until his girlfriend met you and she got jealous and possessive very quickly. 

Tw ~ Bullying, unprotective sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, p in v. I think that's it

Reader is AFAB and a bigger gal ;)

You was at work when your phone started ringing, you look at who was calling you and saw it was Ghost. You instantly panicked, Ghost always texted you, he never rang unless something bad had happened "Are you alright to watch the bar, I have to take this". 

"Are you both okay?" was the first thing you said, "Yes we're fine" Ghost chuckled at your sigh of relief "Why are you ringing me then? Nearly gave me a heart attack at work" you scolded and Ghost could imagine your face right now. "I'm planning a surprise birthday party for Johnny and I really want you to be here, it would be the best birthday present for him" he whispered so you guessed he was at work, "My dad keeps asking when I'm going to see Johnny. He misses his 'son'" you joked "I should be able to get the time off work, look It's Saturday and it's getting busy at work. I'll talk to my dad tomorrow and let you know". "Cheers Love" was the last thing he said before you hung up and went back to work. 

With your dad being the CEO of the franchise you manage at meant it was easy for you to get time off but you never liked to abuse those privileges and wanted to make sure you could have time off. "How long do you need off?" you farther asked first. "You can take him his birthday presents from us. We don't need to spend lots money of posting these for him" your mother said after. "Can I come with you? I miss Johnny" your younger brother whined. "Maybe 2 weeks or so? I'm not sure what his schedule is like but I would like to spend time with him. Yes I'll take his presents and no I'm sorry lil man. You have school but I'll video call you so you can talk to him" you answered everyone's question before looking at your father. "Just please tell him we miss him" your father pleaded and you laughed "I will. He misses you as well...well moms cooking more". You all laughed before you texted Ghost and started packing. 

"Hey Y/N" Ghost wrapped you in a big hug, you have known him for about 7 years. Johnny introduced you when they both came back to England for a while and you hit it off really well, you was one of the few people Ghost called a friend. "Hey Si" you hugged him back before getting into his car. 

"Laswell said you can stay at the base for a while so you don't have to pay for a hotel room" you looked at Ghost "You'll be staying at my place for now until Johnny's birthday" he laughed. It was quiet so you decided to make small talk "How's him and Sofia? He seems happy, in love" it made you sad to ask about his girlfriend, you like. No. You was in love with Johnny and have been since they day you met him but like every high school love book you never told him because you didn't want to risk ruining your friendship, plus you was scared he didn't like you because you had always been bigger than most girls. Not that it matters now, you had learnt to love your body and they way you look. It gave you more confident and realised men didn't care but it was too late with Johnny. "He seems happy" Ghost brought you out of your thought "I sense that there's a but" you teased, he pulled into the car park outside his apartment "There is but well talk over food" 

After a long shower you got into your PJs which resulted in a baggy tee and some shorts "So why don't you like her" you asked with a glass of wine in your hand, he hesitated "It isn't just me. Everyone at the base don't like her. She's got Johnny wrapped around her finger and she knows it, she's always flirting with the recruits when she thinks we're not around, constantly asking Johnny to buy her stupidly expensive things, doesn't like him hanging out with us and has tried to stop him going on a mission". "Let me guess she only 'likes' him because he's in the army and because he works out" you added and Ghosts nodded "He's been like it since I've known him, he will never see it but he always goes for the girls that only care about status, money and looks" you sighed. "She also doesn't like you.....she feels threatened because he has a female best friend. She's always asking if anything has ever gone off between you too and when you last saw each other. I tell her truth but she doesn't believe me" you could help but laugh but what Ghosts asks next catches you off guard. "Do you still love him?" Ghost asked, "Of course I do Si" you laughed. Ghost said nothing just smiled as if he knew something but you played it off.

Of course he knew something, Johnny told him everything which means he knew that Johnny was also in love with you and has been since you first met but like you he didn't want to risk ruining your friendship. Ghost did ask you to come and surprise Johnny but also because he hopes Johnny will see that Sofia isn't the love of his life. You are. He hopes something would happen so you two would finally confess your love for each other. Not that he would tell anyone his plan.

It was the day before Johnny's surprise birthday party but for Ghost it was a normal day, kind of. He had to go over the last finishing touches for Johnny's party. He had walked into the common room to see Sofia "Good morning Ghost" she flirted but he just grunted in response "Have you seen Soap?". Ghost only called him Soap because he knew she didn't like his nickname "Johnny. Is with Price, he shouldn't be long". "Mornin' Ghost" Johnny's voice boomed from the other side of the room "We're all going for drinks tomorrow, you should come" you said not really giving Johnny a choice but obviously Sofia didn't like that "Oh no he can't. He's taking me out tomorrow". Ghost looked back at her slightly and smirked, he thought about her reaction to see you at the bar, "You can bring Sofia, Laswell is going to be there and some other people" he convinced him. "Yeah we'll be there, it will be nice for you finally meet everyone darlin" Johnny smiled completely oblivious to everything. 

Ghost told you it was a small dive bar that he had rented out so you didn't need to go all out, just something casual, "So he has no idea I'm here?" you asked. "Johnny is very smart but he's been oblivious that I've basically been harbouring his best friend for a few days" and you laughed while finishing getting ready. "She's going to be there isn't she?" you asked referring to Sofia "It will be fun" Ghost replied. Great

You would be lying if you said you wasn't nervous seeing Johnny but at the same time you was excited "Lads this is Y/N" Ghost introduced you to the rest of the 141 plus a few other people. "So you're the best friend he never shuts up about" the man known as Gaz said "The one and only" you flipped your hair and laughed. "It's nice to finally meet you, I'm Price. This is Laswell, Alejandro and Rudy" you shuck hands with them all and got chatting "Is it true Soap accidently pushed you off a roof?" Gaz asked and you thought for a moment before remembering the memory "He didn't push me off" you started laughing "we snuck onto the roof of my house and started play fighting. Johnny was loosing so he thought it would be a good idea to push me but I like to be dramatic so I kind of just threw myself off. I ended up in the hospital with a broken arm because turns out. Throwing yourself off a roof to be dramatic isn't a good idea". Everyone started laughing with you "He's here" someone came in and said so you hid behind Ghost, he gave you a questioning look "You're like 6'3 and well built. I'm 5'5 so let me hide". 

"Happy birthday Soap" everyone said together "Holy shit. All this for me? You shouldn't have guys" his voice boomed out and you couldn't help but smile. "We actually have 1 more surprise for you" Ghost smiled and stepped to the side "Surprise bitch" you shouted. Johnny's eyes widened, not believing what he was saying "Y/n?", you threw him a cheeky smile before he tackled you into a hug "God I've missed you" he sounded like he was going to cry "I've missed you too".

Ghost could see the anger in Sofia's face, well actually everyone could see it and snickered. They knew Ghost did it on purpose but never said anything. "You must be Sofia" you walked towards her and stuck your hand out to shake "Fat bitch" she whispered as she shoved past you. "Charming" you whispered to yourself. "How long are you here for?" Johnny asked, you looked towards Sofia "2 maybe 3 weeks depending on your schedule. My parents miss you". "You've met her parents?" Sofia spat, annoyed you gave her the same energy "Well considering we grew up together yeah" and pulled a face before walking away. "She's a delight" you whispered at Ghost and he laughed in agreement. 

You had been there for 5 days and not once did you get to spend time with Johnny. When he was at the base she was attached to him like a rash and pulled him away whenever you tried to talk to him, when it was his days off she got him doing something with her and quiet frankly it was starting to piss you off. "I swear to god I will say something" you shot your gun in the firing range with Ghost, Gaz and Price while they listened to you kick off, "Then why don't you" Gaz asked. "I would if she would stop being a little bitch". They knew you was annoyed a decided to teach you how to shoot a gun to help get your anger out. 

"Have you ever thought about joining the army?" Price asked to change the subject "I mean I thought about it when Johnny wanted to join" you held your gun up and aimed. "Why didn't you? You'd make a great recruit" Price asked again. You was about to answer "Because that would mean she would have to go on a diet and actually work out. I don't know if you saw any pictures of her when she was younger but she was massive, could of been mistaken for a whale. Well you could still be mistaken for one now" Sofia cut in walking towards the boys "Actually my father was about to open his new business and I wanted to help him and his business grow. Turns out I prefer being a manager and a bartender, he said that when I'm ready we can be co-business partners" you turned to Sofia "Speaking of jobs, don't you have one? Or are you too busy sponging off Johnny?". "When your as pretty as me you shouldn't have to work. Not that you would know what being pretty is like" she walked to Ghost and put her hand on his bicep "We're going out later, you should join us". "God built me, your doctor built you. Probably with daddy's money" and if looks could kill you would be dead, "Why you" she started walking towards you but you held the gun up "I wouldn't sweetheart" you smiled oh so innocently.   

Another 3 days and it's like Johnny had completely gone off the grid, nobody had seen him nor could they get in touch with him. Everyone was worried but they knew that Sofia had made him stay with her after the little conversation you both had. "She's threatened by Y/N" Gaz joked and you joined in "She should be, I'm built like a whale remember", "Could squish her" Ghost added. "I'm gonna have a shower, I'm never fighting Ghost again" you got up "Why, It was fun". "Bitch I nearly died. I'm sweating out of places I didn't know was even possible" you poked him before walking to your room on base.

"I'm so sorry Captain" Johnny came running in, out of breath "Where have you been?" Price asked annoyed, "She locked the door and windows, she hid the fucking key. She even broke my phone. I had to sneak out of the tiny ass bathroom window. I don't know what's gotten into her" Johnny explained. Ghost couldn't keep quiet any longer "She's fucking crazy Johnny, I don't know what you see in her", "She's not normally like this...no she's a lot better than this.....she's the best person ever....I love her" he started rambling on trying to make excuses for himself when in reality he hasn't been happy, he hasn't been for a while now but after seeing you he soon realised he didn't love Sofia anymore. "You're rambling Johnny" your voice made him turn around, he said nothing but hugged you. Tightly. 

"What's happening here?" Sofia basically screeched, Johnny pulled away and started talking "Sofia I think" but she cut him off and pointed towards you "Ever since you came here my relationship has been a mess. You've ruined everything, because of you Johnny hasn't wanted to see me. I've had to force him to stay with me". You gave her a short laugh "What by making sure he can't leave...and breaking his phone? What if had a life of death mission to go on and he couldn't because of you?". She looked at everyone, slightly embarrassed and started babbling "At least I'm not fat". Really? Was that the best insult she could give you "Yes. Well done. You've noticed that I am, in fact, fat. I have been fat all my life and I don't know why you think that pathetic little insult will hurt me" you turned to Johnny "I'm sorry Johnny, but it's best if I go home" you gave him a sad smile before walking off. 

"Yeah you do that, go back home and carry on being a slut" You stopped walking and faced her "Oh I've seen your posts. I know you sleep around because you know that nobody would ever want someone so fat and disgusting as you" she clung to Johnny's arms "And I know your in love with Johnny but jokes on you he will never love you back. I've seen his ex's and none them are fat. Army men don't like fat bitches". You looked at Johnny with tears falling down your cheek before you left to pack your bags. 

Sofia started laughing "Well that's that little problem sorted, come one baby. Let's go home". Johnny snatched his arm away from Sofia "What the fuck is wrong with you". She was shocked "What? I just got rid of your distraction" she generally didn't think she did anything wrong. "Distraction? You thought she was a distraction? If anything you're the fucking distraction, you stopped me from going to work, you've tried to stop me going on important missions to the point I've nearly been told to never come back. Because of you I've been so fucking unhappy but now I might actually loose the most important person in my life" Johnny started to raise his voice "But baby" she cooed. "Don't baby me, this is done. We're done. I want nothing to do with you". "You're leaving me?" she cried as he walked away "Yes to be with the only woman I've ever wanted in my life"

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream, shout anything to express how upset you was. You may have just lost your best friend, the only person you could turn too and talk to for hours about your problems. He would never judge you or scold you, he would always sit and listen. You couldn't cry, you didn't have time too, you needed to pack your bags and book the next flight back home. You didn't hear the door opening and locking until Johnny's voice broke you from your trance "Y/N". You stood up not knowing what to say but it it didn't matter, Johnny only wanted to know one thing "How long?". You didn't say anything "How long Y/N?" he asked again this time he walked towards you, "Since I first met you" you whispered and looked into his piercing blue eyes, the eyes you have loved for 10 years. He grabbed your waist gently and kissed you, it was slow, passionate, it was like fireworks had gone off. You couldn't think of anything at that very moment. You pulled away "What about" he shook his head "You're the only woman I want. You're the only woman I've ever wanted in my life but I was so scared you didn't feel the same way" he whispered before you put your hands on his face and kissed him again. This time it was hungry.

You wasted no time in taking each others clothes off, Johnny wanted to take him time with you but at the same time he has been waiting for this moment for too long now he needed you, wanted you. He wanted you to know how much he loved you, he wanted to know you was his. He guided you to the bed and gently laid you down, hands not leaving your body. "God I've wanted you for so long" he whispered kissing up and down your thighs, getting dangerously close to your cunt before backing away in a teasingly way "Please Johnny" you whimpered. "I want to take care of you, I don't want to rush" he whispered caressing your thighs, "You have other times to take care of me, Johnny I need this. I need you" you pleaded looking at him, you saw the hunger in his eyes and the thoughts of him being a gentleman went out of the window. 

He crawled up your body and crashed his lips to yours but kept a hand on your thigh "God you're so fucking beautiful" he started running his fingers through your soaked folds before plunging two fingers deep into you, your back arched in pleasure. One hand scratched at his back as the other gripped his hair as he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, "I need more" you moaned, "Tell me darling. Tell me what you want" he moaned in between kisses. "I need to fuck me Johnny. Please". He removed his fingers and lined himself up with your entrance and asked "Are you ready?". "Yes, god yes" you practically begged him before he slowly pressed himself into, bit by bit. He wanted you too feel all of him but he also wanted to feel you.

You could feel yourself stretching around him and god was it amazing, you felt like you was in heaven. He started out slow but once you was fully stretched out he picked up his pace, you buried your face into his neck but he grabbed your chin to make you look at him "Keep your eyes on me and don't even think about looking away. I want to see you fall apart" he growled as he started going faster, all that could be heard was skin to skin contact. You moaned and whimpered but not once did you look away "That's it darling, let me see you fall apart". "Johnny I" you tried to speak but you was too cock drunk and Johnny loved it, seeing you this way, unable to speak because of him "What's wrong darling, gonna cum for me". You nodded your head unable to speak, he lifted your legs onto his shoulders and began slamming into you. He could feel your walls tightening around him "Hm shit darling, just a bit longer now". "Fuck. Johnny" you screamed as your body tensed in ways you didn't know where possible as you came, you started shaking from the sensitivity as Johnny chased his own orgasm.

Johnny flopped next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him. You both kept quiet, catching your breaths, enjoying each others company. "Why didn't you say anything?" you whispered putting your hand onto his cheek, "I was scared you didn't feel the same way, I was scared to loose you" he gently grabbed your hand and kissed your palm "Please don't leave yet" he whispered. You brought his forehead to yours "I never got the chance to book a plain ticket". 

"I love you Y/N"  

"I love you too Johnny"

I love me a man who EATS like I think I definitely have a food kink cause like the image of going down on Soap while he monches on a burger AGHHSGKDJHSKSBKN Like I need his cock rn (also side note love the term chub or instead calling a cock fat calling it chubby like 😮‍💨😮‍💨)

Another Random Cod Thot!!!!

soap x reader.

Cw: swearing... honestly that's it this part is pretty chill. (There's a nsfw bit at the end but you don't have to read it! I've sectioned it off!)

When Soap comes back home from being deployed for god knows how long, it's like he's walked through the gates of heaven. There's literally nothing he loves more than coming home, taking off that god forsaken uniform, and lounging about in some shorts (And nothing else. Because he's a lazy fuck and it's his house. he can choose not to wear underwear or a shirt whenever he fuckin wants!).

And the food...God the foooooooooood. It's probably his favourite part of coming home. No more MREs. No more mess hall food. No more stale bread with a slathering of some indescribable spread. Finally, he can eat like a king.

And he'll eat just about everything and anything you serve him. Takeout? Abso-fucking-lutely. Quick 10 minute packet food? He'll be having seconds and thirds if you let him. A proper home-cooked meal? Just marry him now, for god sakes.

I have this image in my head of him on leave, lazing on the bed in just his underwear with his large hairy chest on display, heaving in deep content sighs as he absolutely devours a pack of donuts you brought home and savouring every second of it. It's his personal bliss.

NSFW BIT BELLOW CUT

Cw: Freeuse (Reader using Soap). BJs. Big hairy horny man.

There's also the added benefit of a limitless supply of BlowJobs on your part. And he's a free use kinda guy when he's on leave. You never have to ask to take his fat cock out of his boxers, sweetheart. He's already half chubbed for you.

It's not like you can resist him anyway. He walks around the house in exclusively his undewear and nothing else. You can see the print of his dick against the fabric as he goes to town on a burger you made for him.bAnd he moans like a whooooooooore when he eats. So no one can blame you when you cozy yourself up into his side and slide his boxers down just enough to get a taste of that bright leaky tip of his.

So he gets excellent food, a warm bed, and a partner who is more than happy to wrap their lips around his dick and go to town whenever they like? He could die right there and be the happiest man alive. This is a better reward than any medal they could give him for his service.

NAVIGATION

ABOUT ME

ETC

Hey hey first things first ! On here I would like to be referred to a Beau! I’m a fanfic writer for a few fandoms in which you can find on my masterlist as well!

Down Below the cut is my MasterList to the things I write! So far there’s only COD stuff cause majority of my friends enjoy that 😅

I do want to put a trigger warning on here! And I will also put trigger warnings on the writing themselves! I tend to write a lot of angst and smut because I’m very bad at coming up with full fledged out plots sometimes but aha! Oh well—

MasterList

Call of Duty

- John Price

LOVERS CREEK ; click here !

- Simon Ghost Riley

- Kyle Gaz Garrick

- Johnny Soap MacTavish

MORE TO COME..

Ask box is open!

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader, John Price (Call of Duty)/Reader Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Reader, Kate Laswell Additional Tags: Task Force 141, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, Polyamorous Task Force 141 (Call of Duty), John Price Acting as Task Force 141's Parental Figure (Call of Duty), Task Force 141 as Family (Call of Duty), Eventual Romance, Human/Monster Romance, Monster Hunters

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader, John Price (Call of Duty)/Reader Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Reader Additional Tags: Task Force 141, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, Polyamorous Task Force 141 (Call of Duty), John Price Acting as Task Force 141's Parental Figure (Call of Duty), Task Force 141 as Family (Call of Duty), Eventual Romance

"Just, please... please. I'll beg."

Poly_TF_141 x sex-demon_reader Prt:2

Read part 1 here 》 ....

A_N:... Continuation of the previous! This is part two, and to do with Werewolf Soap going into 'heat' but not the abo kinda heat. Soo, expect more wolf like behavior, and again, the same warnings apply.

CW.|.TW:... Sexual content. Intended male reader. Bottom but Dom reader. Polly-cule TF 141. Religious depictions of demons. Allusion to Reader having an Eating Disorder and the recovery there of. Ghost x Soap x Reader

It had taken some time and effort, but finally, finally, you were OK with the casual emotion that the team shared with one another.

Being a permanent member of the team seemed to help. You even put on weight in the recent months that you've actually fed semi regularly, although it wasn't anywhere near what you should be getting but it was miles better then the months you used to starve through.

Price made sure that any time between missions, there was some form of sexual intention in his team.

Not the hardest thing when all of them have been intemit with each other for years before you joined in with the physical side of things. And Price let you have your fill of him whenever he saw that drop in you again.

But someone else came knocking that night.

A blushing Soap who was leaning heavily on your door frame, looking almost shy for his bulkier body. He hardly says anything as you beckon him in. Eyes still down cast even as he leaves the door ajar and is sitting all but an inch away from you.

"I wan'ed te ask ya if yeh would..." he starts, blush spreading down his neck. "Can ye. I just wanted.."

That's when you felt a pulse of a sweeter emotion, a spiking arousal that was tainted with a primal urge. This absolute need for something so deeply sexual it was practically making your mouth water.

"Your lycanthopic urge?" You question,

"Aye, my heat kinda snuck up on me." He answers with a curt nod. Still not looking at you.

Your fingers find his chin, easily lifting his stubble edged jaw, so he was nose to nose with you.

Soap had dilated pupils, only elipsed by this thin sliver of his irus. Those needs already making his mind want to lean in and chase those lips of yours. Instead, he flicks his eyes back up, that emotion growing thicker, sweeter, with the movement.

"Just please..." he half begs, already so desperate. "Please. I'll beg. I'll go away if ye don't wanna, but I just.."

"Ok, I will lend you help."

You've hardly gotten the sentence out before Soap jumps you. Stealing breathless kiss after breathless kiss.

Guiding your hands to his skin, slipping them under his clothes, and soaking in the warmth with your skin on his. He gets so touch starved, so sensitive to it, when he's like this.

You near fucking his throat with a long split toungue isn't helping him think any more coherently. He tried to ignore the gentle tangle of your hands as you started getting him undressed. Body more demonic with the crackling desires streaming from Johnny's need for intimacy.

"You still got your mind in one peace there lad?"

A deep rumble follows from the door, Ghost standing there with his head tilted. Commenting, "Dumb Mutt just got one thing on his mind."

"You came to watch or pass along something or another."

"Oh, I wanna watch."

Simon crosses the distance from the door to your bed in two quick strides, fingers gliding in the panting Soap's hair. Pulling him back by the grip he has on the werewolf's Mohawk.

"Mainly to see this one don't hurt ya, hun. But to see if yah would need help."

Johnny rolls his hips against your thigh, toungue lulling out past his fangs and bruised lips. Eyes unfocused as he tries to keep his body still while miserably failing.

"Can get a bit one tracked and forget who's helpen 'em. And Price warned me yah got a habit of ignoring yourself."

"Acceptable. Just help me strip him before he cums in his pants."

"Alright hun."

You end up kneeling with Soap, hopelessly humping against your thighs with you stretching out your back so you can reach for Ghost as he leans back. Your hands trace over the fat of his thighs before using your tail to wrap around Johnny's waist, keeping a firm grip to help him actually get what he wants.

His cock already painfully hard, pulsing with each beat his heart had. He was happy to be pulled to where you wanted him, all but panting into your nape as he ruts up against you.

It's always that first breach that knocks the breath from you, but Soap sits still after he's fully sheathed. Just trying to feel as much as he can with skin against skin as that lusty haze fills his mind.

When he does start moving, it's at a brutal pace. Hardly pulling out before shoving back in all the way. Jolting your whole body.

That thickly suffocating emotion had your throat vibrating in the closest thing your kin could produce to a purr. Easily keeping him steady and against you with your tail. You could feel his back tense and ripple with each roll of his hips, with your tail snugly against his waist as he licks along any skin he can.

You heal too fast for him to see the hackies he's working along your shoulders, but the darker marks of his teeth do stick just a bit longer.

It's Simon who traces the rivets of your ram like horns, eyes watching the hitch in your breath. Fingers ever so gentle as he traces all the dents and scrapes along them; careful to rub his palms down the curve against your skull. And you can taste the lust that's just as strong from him.

When Soap had cum with a snarl, as he bared his teeth against your spine, you could feel how the tired feeling was pulsing along the need to keep going. He was hard and needy as he couldn't set a rhythm with the fatigue settling along.

He must have tried to get off before getting the courage to ask for your help.

Feeling a bit sorry for the werewolf, you roll him over; turning to face Simon as you hover over Johnny's body. Watching as Soap mouths over Simon's dick through his boxers, those sex blown eyes watching him.

When you started the roll off your hips, against the shivering Soap who moans egging you on; you saw Ghost lift his gaze. Watching you ride the other with ease.

"Shit." Ghost comments,

He hefts himself up to his knees, nearly covering Johnny's face with his crotch. The wolf didn't seem to mind. Just mouthing and licking at all he could reach. Soaking more of the fabric with his spit.

"Price gave this view no justice when he told me 'bout it."

Redoubled your efforts as more warmth flooded you, but Soap didn't soften. He only meets every roll down with a thrust up.

"Don't know why any of you enjoy it, and not the action."

Johnny is whimpering under Ghost, body trembling in over stimulation. Mind lost in the throws of the absolute pleasure you're helping pump through his very soul.

"More ta do with ya looking like yah enjoying yaself then the act alone."

"You have to be none-"

Those fingers dance over your horns, finally pulling a quiet noise from you. He leaned into you, sharing the quick hiffs of air you're both taking.

"That," Ghost repeats the action. You don't moan this time, but the effect is still evident. "Is what we enjoy of this."

"Prove it."

"Gladly hun." Before his eyes roll back into his skull, "Fuck... watch the teeth soldier."

Soap had pulled his boxers off with just his teeth, getting to his dick. At the comment, Johnny bared his teeth against the intimate skin of Simon's inner thigh. So close to him that the danger runs his blood just that bit hotter.

And for all that Ghost likes the danger, that bit of pain, he doesn't actually want to bite him. And not nearly as hard as he bites at you.

"He will tire out soon, just a warning."

Simon clasps at your horns, pulling you closer by them.

"Not for long hun, he'll be up and wanting more in no time." He presses his lips against yours, mumbling with a smirk, "and I wanna tag team him when he does."

COD men x K-9 Unit male reader

Part 1 | Part 2》》

A/n: I can speak three languages, only one of which borrow German words, so forgive me for shitty translations. I'm from the RSA, so you know. Not any of the boys hometown.

Reader works with a K-9 unit and his partner is called Mutt who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.

After the mission back at base, the reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with him.

Reader is referred to as you or Riot.

Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.

Left: American Akita and Right: Long-haired Doberman

John Price: (740 words)

-He met you first, saw you first. Hell, he verified your file so he knew of your old teammates that turned because of the torture, and he knew of the many years you spent MIA. He also knows what you did to get out. So he keeps you close and keeps an eye on you. He's the one who needs to clear you for this recon mission. It will be his fault if another team mate goes rogue. -It only take him a few minutes to see how much you actually relay on Mutt, it takes him days to see its not reliance, no the two of you act in a cemented trust between you two. From the interactions at home base to the way you both move like a well oiled machine on the field, it doesn't take a genius to see that Mutt is a deadly force with training that makes the hound that much more dangerous. Price comes face to face with that realization when he sees just how far Mutt can throw a soldier four times their size. And Mutt came up to his thighs, mind you. -Time and space are all Price really needed to trust you completely. He knew how you acted with Mutt, and therefore, he knew how you would act around a team you trust. It doesn't take him long to see its not only Mutt who reacts to you. You react just as much based on your K-9. Price nearly shoots you when you call out to Mutt because you didn't whistle for the hound. You howled, and he could hardly tell it apart from the wild dogs he's heard out in the desert. He didn't even understand what the fuck you where doing until he heard something answer you, in the same rumbling call. It took a lot more time to get used to those kinds of noises from you. He could expect them from Mutt but not when it's you who makes them -Both of you were exhausted, been about three long days on your feet with little sleep, that's when he asks you how you make the sounds Mutt does. Hell he even starts trying to learn them just to know how you and you K-9 partner work better. "So I just cup my hands and what now Riot? I Grunt?" "No," you laugh at him, he doesn't feel patronized by it, "you hold your hands around your mouth and just bark, makes it echo like a dog." He sounded more like a mountain lion then canine when he actually gave it a try. You teach him how to pitch it up a bit, and how to drag the call out properly. "And you don't use your hand because?" "Because I'm used to it, and can make the 'echo' without my hands. I still do when I howl. Look." A few nights pass before he uses it to scare a tango shitless out side of the enemy base. He doesn't admit it but he likes 'talking' to the local wild dogs with you. He even enjoys hearing you and Mutt go off at each other because it means your both alive and still here. -Out side of the field and when you two go out to roam the town at the dead of night, he comes to see that the canine noises you and Mutt share gives you peace. The kind he used to find in cigars and smoke. He gets it, he knows that some people just have a vice. When you find him smoking alone behind his own home, he shrugs it off and blames it on the smoke detectors. He doesn't say that he stops to make your K-9 more comfortable in his home. He doesn't stop smoking but he tries to avoid it for your sake. You only corner him around a day or so to thank him. He won't admit to the red flaring up on his ears, but he tells you to drop it. -If he's ever the one who finds you when your having an attack, he will guard you. Get you safe and comfortable then he will become a gruff mother bear and be completely over protective of you. He only calms down when he sees that Mutt already does that, and he learns what can help you, what to look out for. He won't admit it though.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: (734 words)

-Ghost didn't like you at first. or well he doesn't like anyone actually but he didn't like you. -You had a dog breed that was originally made for bear bating and he hated that he knew that. Even if you didn't get the hound because of that. Well, that and Mutt is constantly muzzled. It took you explaining it was required by law for him to try and ignore it. -But when he watches how fluidly you and Mutt work together, even seeing the raw fucking power that dog has when Mutt tackled an enemy to the ground, he starts to understand why you have to keep Mutt muzzled. Even if he didn't like it. -Simon has an ex-military dog at home so he knows how to act around an active working dog. He's the best to be around if you don't want people petting or trying to do anything really with your K-9 partner. -when at the base afterwards he sees that the dog isn't just a working dog but acts like you service dog. Everything from crowd control to doing small tasks for you on the daily. To siting between your legs when you have your back to anyone when doing a task to protect you. Mutt will even start doing this quiet sort of 'rueff' sound that will make you get out of where ever you are without any fanfare, you will just disappear. -He only finds out why a lot later. He feel kind of stupid for missing it after the fact. -Its the scars that cross your back and over your shoulders, the hitches of thick skin around your jaw. You are a torture survivor. So suddenly he gets it. Mutt is your safety, the dog wears a muzzle because your K-9 partner is also a person protection dog. -After he realized the why you stick to your partner so closely, he would begin to help Mutt protect you. He would stand ahead of you when Mutt would lay down to create space (crowd control). Ghost would watch your back and react with your partner to help you. -He takes his mask off when you two are either alone or when your are forced to show your scares he shows some of his to help you feel more comfortable. -you start to notice it, and at first you would try to stop him but eventually you just start protecting him back. You become more comfortable around him. Simon notices it to. -One day after a few days straight of being on your feet, both you and Simon end up passed out in his private quarters. Ghost wakes first to see Mutt cuddle against you and draped across him, when ever he tried to move the dog, they would just growl and to his utter amusement you growled back. -After that he gets you to 'talk' to Mutt any time he can, even on missions. - Ghost was the one who told you and Mutt to bark at each other to distract the enemy when on a recon mission. "Copy Riot, we need an in" "Need an in, copy. Any ideas for that L.t?" "Yeah, Riot go off and make some noise with Mutt" "Seriously?" "Yip, get going we need that data" You two got in, and yes you did start howling back and forth with Mutt in the echo trick wolves use. The enemy thought they were surrounded by cayotes. -When you eventually cuddle up with Ghost again, and Mutt yips or growls at you and you make the noise back, Simon will growl at you. It becomes a games between you to, even doing it as call outs outside of coms. Soap complains about wild dogs once and now Simon will get Mutt vocal just to fuck with Soap. -he starts calling you dog related nicknames, your name doesn't exist anymore. Call sign? only when necessary. You are now called with doggie names. He'll call out a, "Heh, Good boy" "Come on puppy you can speak" when you go dark on coms, or just when you don't answer him. Yes he will also say things like, "What ever you say Fido" -He makes you swear to never tell a soul that he also barks back at Mutt when you two are off duty. You caught him coping a growl when playing with Mutt once. -He gets Mutt and his las to meet. Now he also makes dog sounds with you on his down time, even without you much to his old girls delight.

John “Soap” Mactavish: (616 words)

-He loves your K-9 partner from the first time Price introduces you to the team, sure he tries to be professional but the second you let Mutt go off to play out of gear he just wants to give the hound so many pets. They are just so big and have that cute angry tilt to their face! Can you blame him. -when out on the field, he loves running with two of you on missions. The adrenaline and rush and just how much faster you two are than him. He loves it. -You end up doing it with him outside of missions after a while. Hiking out in mountains and secluded valleys, it's the first time he hears you howl with Mutt. The coyotes had started, yipping over whatever they killed lower down the ridge. Mutt, who was a few paces head, had paused to howl, without thinking you howl with them. Scares Soap but he just finds it fun. -Soap being so in love with Mutt leads to just being around you a lot. He starts learning what certain movements mean to you and your dog, how a sharp left with your hand was a call to draw back or how the shift of your stance meant to take the lead. It amazed him how well you read each other. -Then he sees how you act outside of the field, how Mutt still acted like a protector, and you kept mimicking the sounds Mutt made. Especially when you were more tired. He found it cute. Hell, he loved playing with Mutt, so when you made the hound more excited, he also got just as if not more excited. -Soap loves head scratches you find out when you two are off duty and hanging out. He's on the floor with Mutt and the hound he's cuddling wines before you reach down to comfort the dog with head scritches. You miss and pet Soap instead, beside being completely flustered, he asked you to do it again.  He just starts asking you to do it more and more before you start petting him the same way you pet over your hound. -Now you start with the dog related nicknames, even over coms. Much to Soaps embarrassment and the teams delight. He nearly buckles the first time you call him a good boy, and he does when you call him a good dog. Blames it on a miss step. -He loves, loves, loves listening to you, and Mutt yap back and forth, loves even more when you go to rough houses with growls and even try pining you down one. He fails, but he doesn't care. -Soap only catches one of your attacks when it's about sun down. You're both at his place standing in the kitchen when your shoulders suddenly hitch, but you continued on as normal. Until Mutt wandered over to you, they stopped dead before making a gruff noise and jumping up onto you. Instead of getting you secluded because, of course, the hound sees Soaps house as a safe space. And Mutt will get you down, force you to sit and lower your head. "Woh, n'er knew em ta jump? Wait shit. ROIT!" He'll be right there next to you, knows what to do because of Ghosts episodes on recons. "What's it, lad? What can I do ta help 'im?" -You don't really talk about it. Sure, you explain what it was and why Mutt did that, but not the why it happened. It takes a while to admit that the scares you hide are the reason for that attack. He gets it he does, and now? Mother fucker will do dumb shit to distract you, or just talk and talk and talk. It helps, he knows it helps.

König: (764 words)

-Being a sniper, he likes the added security, the extra eyes to help watch his back. Sure, he doesn't trust you per say but he tries to be friendly none the less. -He had no idea what Mutt was trained for until he saw the both of you take down someone who made it to his vantage point. He saw how you moved like Mutt was an extension of yourself, that's how you earn his respect. -König didn't know why you had so many commands for Mutt, but most of them were cues or just situational. Most of all, the verbal commands you use are in Russian and Dutch so he can understand some of the tasks you ask Mutt to do . It kind of scares him that Mutt would know which trail was a friend and which person wasn't. He stands by that fear when he watches you set them off on a run away target. -He will only admit to himself that both you and Mutt look way to good covered in the gore from that attack. -You had to explain that that kind of training meant your partner had to be muzzled. You both get to talking that night, swapping stories of close calls, and König shyly showed you the star splattered scar on his jaw. Lifting his hood up just enough to see it before hurriedly drooping it back down. You share a few of the worse days you had as a call in search and riot guard and snippets of the scars covering your throat. -Habits begin forming. König will be a silent wall between you and crowds while Mutt would start alerting to his anxiety attacks as well. You made a joke about borrowing Mutt to him on the days off. He didn't understand the first time Mutt barked at him in a weird gruff tone before jumping up and doing it again. It's when you get him secluded and safe that you explain it to him. "Its called signaling. They can tell you when these things are going to happen or are actively happening. " "So it's to let me know?" "Yeah, for me, it's when I'm going to either for a flash back or when my paranoia forces me into a panic attack." "Flash back?" "Yes, remember that sister I told you about." -It took days for you to actually relay that story to him. How your team abandoned you, how the enemy held your sisters head above your bloody form. You explained how that caused phantom pains or flashbacks and how crippling that can be some days. -He becomes your solace after that. He would be there when you needed it. Keep people away when you couldn't look at anyone. He even began listening to Mutts alerts. He even lets you help him through the easier ones. -König called you one night when you both were off for the next few days. You could tell by the shake on his breath what was happening before he could tell you. That was when you showed him how Mutt does decompression therapy, the hound big enough to help ground him. You stayed that night, even teaching König some of the commands you use to tell Mutt how to help you. He's quick to learn them as some phrases are Dutch that you use so he can catch the meaning of some commands. -You don't call him until a long while later. It's on a mission while you two are hunkered down after a botched extraction. Or well, Mutt calls him. "Riot? Are you, Oh Scheiße! 「Shit」" "wat 「what」, ag. What can I do? Dir helfen 「Help you」, how can I help. Please let me help you. " -He ended up holding how so you couldn't hurt yourself in these attacks. It didn't feel as entrapped as you thought it would. König is so much bigger than you, but it's like he makes a physical barrier between you and the world. He helps your partner make you feel safe. It's hard to explain to anyone why your panic attacks act like that, why your mind needs pain to calm from feeling like you're dying. König will explain how his attacks can feel suffocating, and that's why his jaw and throat are so bruised most days. -Between one mission and the next, you start showing off things you and Mutt can do to him, like Mutt retrieving throne knives or how the hound can trace any sent it knows for miles. -You only bark back at Mutt one night when trapped in a safe house. Neither of you could find each other, and mutt had run off

Alejandro Vargas: (720 words)

-Learning of the terrorist stationed so close to los vaqueros' home base, Alejandro was quick to reach out. The 141 had helped him before, so he was surprised to learn of the newer recruit they called in to help them. Alejandro told Price to just bring you along. They needed the extra help honestly, as much as he refused to trust any of 141 purely on principle. They needed the help. -He met you with Ruddy on the roof of the office building, and he asked the polit to land on. When you dropped from the helicopter with the others. Mutt held to your chest before being deposited on the ground. He's seen how some of the other search and rescue units who have K-9's, but he's never seen anyone who works with their hound like you do. Alejandro is both grateful and terrified to have you fighting with him.  -Seeing you and Mutt outside the field was even more intriguing. How the two of you reacted perfectly to each other, he saw a bit of himself and Rudy in the way you two work like a well-oiled machine. He tried to play nice, be kind and calm, but when shit hit the fan? He drops it. Its only been a week before you use the recall command on Mutt to level the man they needed to interrogate. Both of you were forced to hunker down in a safe house, Alejandro making the bound man walk with little success. He asked for your help not long after the son had dipped down.  "Think he will talk?" "Not willingly if that file you circulated was true." "Any ideas?" "You aren't scared of loud noises, are you?" "Not really, why?" -When you said you could help, this isn't what he was expecting, but it was working. You had taken to standing behind the tied down guy, and whenever Alejandro could sound even remotely frustrated,  you would call out to Mutt before the dog would lunge with a snarl or harsh bark. Scared the man shitless, and he would mumble about 'de-ablo' or 'deamons' on and off. When things got too harsh, or either of you were cornered, he watched in equal parts horror and delight as you let Mutt cull those surrounding you all. Watch as you both kill together just as well as you work together. -It eventually became a joke, the whole you being a dog or sounding like one. Even when the two of you left the safe house. Hell, he started talking to you like he would your dog. Started to tease you with the same command you used on your hound. "Come on, Roit, I know you can beg better than that." "Here, cachorro cachorro cachorro [puppy puppy puppy]!" "Such a good boy, you want a treat?" "There we go, Good perro. Now sit for me." Even saying he kept treats for when you were especially well behaved. If you didn't also start laughing along he wouldn't have kept doing it and actually started keeping 'treats' on hand for you on the late nights you two would just talk on and on about nothing and everything. -Being back at the base and left to your devices, he started asking about everything Mutt could do. He would ask if you could also do the tricks and inquire about the ones you could. "Wait cariño, you can howl?" "Yeah. Wanna hear me?" "Oh more than anything." "hhhm, maybe I'll do it later." "I'm happy to beg you, but I think you would sound better begging me, cariño." "I don't beg Alejandro." "You will. And you'll sound so good doing it." "Try me," -He loved hearing you talk to Mutt. Just waiting up at night to listen to the back and forth of barking and yips that echo across the open land. Whether from far away or not, he loved it. -Alejandro is the worst when either of you get hurt. He is the worst flirt, and he lays the dog related teasing on twice as thick. Not only is Rudy swearing him out in broken Spanish, but you don't help either. Doing anything to help him stay conscious or playing along to distract yourself from the pain. Even Mutt begins to see him as safe.

More COD Boys x K-9 unit reader 》》》》

MDNI 18+ / ~ 2.6k words / Oneshot

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games), Modern Warfare II (2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Reader Additional Tags: No use of y/n, POV Second Person, Smut, light fluff, Oral Sex, gender neutral reader, Brat John "Soap" MacTavish, A little bit anyway, Gender neutral terms of endearment for reader, Light Dom/sub, Hand Job, briefly, Soap gets most of the attention in this one folks, Light Possessive Language, Oneshot, Author Has Played Call of Duty, not well, but I did, Reboot John "Soap" MacTavish, Reader is an Operator, Desperate John "Soap" MacTavish, Not Beta Read, we die like (redacted), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot Summary:

Soap and you find yourselves in a safe house all on your own, in a rare moment free of danger, and manage to steal it for yourselves, indulging in some much needed RNR.

________________________________________________________________

"Tha's it, pet." Soap praises, his voice low and soft, a sound that's gradually been growing to be more and more of a comfort to you as of late, it mixes beautifully with the slick sound of his cock easing in and out of your mouth. He always takes his time with you when you let him have you like this, as if making sure to savour it, even his thick, scarred fingers which were tangled amongst the roots of your hair had a certain gentleness to them, amplified further by the way his other hand was caressing your cheek, the pad of his thumb tenderly brushing over the corner of your eyes, wiping away the involuntary tears that had gathered there and clung stubbornly to your lashes, before doing the same to the bit of drool that managed to escape from the corner of your mouth, and had been lazily dribbling down your chin.

Despite the way it makes your jaw twinge, getting to see the way his breathing gradually gets shallower, louder, adding to the symphony that always accompanied your intimate moments together alongside his staccato groans and grunts, made it all worth it. "Jus' like tha'." Every sound he made was nothing short of addictive, and you were determined to make it your life's mission to pull all of them from Soap's lips until you memorized them all.

Which is why you fight against his grasp to push him deeper into your mouth, until you can feel the weeping tip of his cock kiss the back of your throat, before you swallow around him. A low strangled groan forces its way out of Soap's body, seemingly startling the man himself as much as it delights you. He huffs and pulls you back up some, his hips twitch off the bunk, chasing the warmth of your mouth reflexively, as he shoots you a reprimanding look, one that didn't really come across as anything other than fond, which had his striking blue eyes — that are as vibrant as ever, even in the low lighting of the safe house, as if taking personal offence to anything that'd dare to try to hide them, and shining anyway from a mix of spite and Soap's special brand of unbridled defiance — narrowing minutely, doing nothing to hide the way they practically glinted with amusement and want. "Easy wi' tha', dinnae need ye hurtin' yerself."

You roll your eyes at him, and huff through your nose. With the tip of your tongue you follow one of the veins along the underside of Soap's cock up the length of his shaft, only to smooth your tongue right back out on the underside of his tip and running it right back down, over and over again. "Cheeky." Soap barely manages the word, his voice trailing off into another unsteady vocalization of his pleasure as his lashes flutter, fanning out when his eyes were mostly closed. That doesn't spur you to relent though. You both know that he likes it— he likes when you mouth off to him, when you walk by him brushing your hand along the small of his back, when you squeeze his arse when you know you can get away with it, when you eye him up, especially if you do it at a time where he's not allowed to immediately get his hands on you and retaliate, like during briefings.

Even with how much Soap seemed to live for you riling him up till he snapped, he never got rough about it, not unless you went out of your way to ask for him to. No, your big bad Sargent liked to keep a soft touch— even after you teased and prodded him to his limits with fleeting touches and words of filth whispered against the shell of his ear whenever they'd pop into mind, leaving him redfaced and caught off guard, often resulting in him staring at you like a puppy that just had a steak pulled out from under it as you'd go back to whatever it was you had been doing, teeth pressing against your bottom lip as you fruitlessly tried to force down your smirk.

When he'd finally break — and he always did no matter what it was that you had been doing to him — and take you over a desk, or against a wall, in the armoury, in your rooms in the barracks, or like now, on an old lumpy bunk that creaked at any and every movement, tucked away in a remote location in a safe house that was held together with little more than rusty nails and a fraying hope, with a crackling fire and the soft moonlight easing through the windows acting as your sole sources of light, he was still so fucking gentle. Touching you as if you were something delicate, or fleeting, like he thought if he moved too fast or pressed too hard you'd flit out of his touch like a startled finch, or as if you were a vase at risk of shattering into countless shards.

Keeping your hands flat, you gently smooth your palms over the tops of his thighs, savouring the way you could feel the slightest of tremours in them. His belt buckle jingles softly, hitting against itself from your fingers catching the hem of his pants. In your rush to get at him earlier you had merely pushed down as much as they had to be, leaving them quickly forgotten after the fact.

It was about time you corrected that.

Shifting on your knees, you draw back until only the head of Soap's cock remained in your mouth so that your tongue could still lap at him while giving you just enough space to fuss with Soap's clothes, an action that has Soap letting out a broken off whimper. A sound which is quickly chased by a slew of what was presumably curses, but was so enwrapped in Soap's accent — now much thicker from how worked up he was and worsened further by his budding frustration from being pent up — that you couldn't make out anything intelligible. Your hands trail lower to fumble with Soap's combat boots, pulling at the knot of the laces until it loosens, and you can ease his feet out of both of them, dropping them behind yourself to be found later. Eventually he seems to pull himself together enough for you to catch a few things, at least. "Yer nae playin' fair, pet. Cannae jus' dae this ta me." He whines rather petulantly.

Just for that, you pull off of him properly, his poor cock twitches where it lays against his abdomen, making an absolute mess of his shirt. To stop him fussing further you wrap your hand around him and lazily pump him, the quiet slick sounds filling the space between you both, as your other hand works on pulling his pants and boxers down the rest of the way, letting them fall in a heap at your knees. Soap's hips twitch up into your movements, as if trying to goad you into moving faster, but you simply use your elbow to press into his hip, keeping him down while you continue to stroke him. "You're so spoiled, you know that? Should just leave your sorry ass like this."

A proper grin pulls at Soap's lips, and he looks down at you through his lashes, with a glint in his eyes that was the pinnacle of pleased— like a puppy that had managed to charm its way into stealing an entire bag of treats. "Aye, ah ken, but ye wouldnae dare. Ye like spoilin' me, luvvy." There's just something about the way he looks above you, his chest heaving and a healthy flush darkening his skin along his cheekbones, while he's blatantly biting his bottom lip and looking at you like you're the only thing in the world worth looking at, that causes something in your chest to ache and twist in a way that shouldn't be as heady as it is.

Instead of dignifying Soap with an actual reply right away, you just grunt softly, vaguely providing him with a, "Maybe." as you hook your arm under one of Soap's knees, guiding it up so that his thigh presses against his stomach; you can feel the muscle jump under your touch. "God knows why I do, you're always such a fucking brat about it." Your protests are contrary, you know they are, especially with the way you're fisting his cock and lazily rolling your hips against the leg Soap still has firmly planted on the ground in a rather fruitless bid to take a bit of your own edge off. You spoil him because it's him, and as much as he can be a prick or a brat sometimes, at the end of the day Soap had still batted his eyes at you, and managed to sidle up to you enough that he found a nice warm place to curl up in your chest like a stray dog in a sunspot. He was a brat, a loud mouth, a bit of a know-it-all even when he wouldn't let on that he was, and he seemed to find a new way to get himself in and out of trouble every day, but god damn it, he was still your stray dog, and like hell were you going to give him anything less than every breath you took, every bit of blood rushing in your veins through your pounding heart, and every bone in your body.

You'd give him everything, because he was yours, and there was no way you'd ever let this ridiculous man forget it.

"Shite..." Soap hisses through his teeth, both his hands move to tangle in the thin sheets laid over the bunk, as the way his hips meet your hand begins to grow sloppier and more uneven. "M' nae a brat." The protest passes Soap's lips weakly, any bite it possibly could have had was dulled even further by the way his cock was practically drooling all over your hand, and the persistent groans and whimpers leaving him.

While you let it drop for now, you most certainly plan on getting him back for back-talking you later. Right now though, you have much more pressing things to pay attention to, like the way he's so visibly close to falling apart under you, his leg was trembling under your hand as his vocalizations got even more unabashed. The way the corner of your mouth lifts as you watch him is entirely involuntary; not that you do much in the way of trying to stop it from happening in the first place, mind. Hearing how Soap keeps murmuring your name doesn't exactly do much but encourage your expression and touches, especially when he practically keens as you take him back into your mouth, even if it's just the head of his cock. You're already pressing your elbow harder against his hip to keep him from lifting them too much and fucking into your mouth mindlessly; you both know that if he wanted to he could knock your arm out of the way, but even with how little blood was left in his brain he behaved and let you keep him down.

That doesn't stop him from wrapping his thick fingers around your wrist, trying to encourage you to pump his shaft faster. "Fuck, c'mon pet. M' so close ta comin', ye gotta let me. Please, please." There's a steadily growing note of desperation to his voice, the hand he still has tangled in the sheets curls tighter, pulling them hard enough that they now lay heavily askew on the bunk. As much as there's a part of you that delights in the idea of pulling back again, leaving him there heavy and aching, you can only be so cruel to him in one night, so you let him guide your hand, squeezing him just a bit tighter, if only to hear the way his voice gets rougher, a stream of words passing his lips mindlessly as he chases his finish, mostly your name intermixed with a healthy dose of 'fuck, please, yes,' and of course a slew of babbled, 'thank ye,'s over and over again.

It doesn't take long for even that to shift into 'God ah'm so close,' and 'oh ah'm gonna come in yer bonnie mouth, pet. Gonna make sure ye taste m'fer days.'

You just squeeze the underside of his knee, not like you can talk around him, besides, you didn't want to waste any extra brainpower trying to formulate intelligible words; not when you could be using it instead to memorize every little way Soap was starting to crumble under you, the muscles in his thighs jumped as his back arched off the mattress, both of his blue eyes glazing over, wide but staring up at the ceiling unseeingly, at least until they flutter closed, your name bullies it's way out of his mouth, followed by a few more curses, and some pure unfiltered praise, as his come fills your mouth in thick spurts that you're quick to swallow down before he makes a mess, or at least, so he doesn't make any more of one than he already has.

Using his hold on your wrist, he guides you unsteadily off your knees, and on top of himself, causing your legs to tangle with his own. While he lets out a soft hiss of oversensitivity when you accidentally brush against him, Soap just winds his arms around your shoulders and pulls you in even closer for a kiss, tasting himself on your tongue with a soft groan. The way he's touching you quickly lost the notable edge of desperation that had been there before, the usual gentleness taking its place. "Yer tae good 'fer me, luvvy." He murmurs, as he brushes your lips together again.

One of your hands finds its way into his mohawk, absently tugging your fingers through the strands in a bid to try to bring some order to the mussed strands, before tangling near his nape and forcing his head back, he grunts, but doesn't fight you. There's something addicting about the way he always just lets you move him about, especially with the way it makes his eyes spark, and had his breath — which had yet to return to normal — quickening once more. You were more than willing to take advantage of him tolerating this while you could. "You're not getting off that easily, MacTavish." You say in as equally as low of a tone. "I'm not done with you yet." After all, you were still worked up and aching yourself, and you well and planned on making that Soap's problem, much like he had with you.

That familiar cheeky grin returns at full force as if you had just offered Soap everything under the tree on Christmas morning. "Aye, didnae think ah'd ferget aboot ye, pet." A shocked gasp passes your lips as he abruptly flips you both over, which causes the bunk to creak in protest under your combined weight on its old springs. Your gasp is quick to turn into a soft huff of amusement as he pins you beneath him and presses close, like he's doing his best to meld you together. "Gonna take such good care o' ye, luvvy." He murmurs as he peppers your face and neck in little fleeting kisses, as if eager to please you and trying his best to love on you everywhere at once.

You can't help the way you laugh at his antics, which somehow only seems to encourage him further as his hands find your hips, dragging you closer. Rolling your eyes fondly, you use your hold on his hair to pull him back in for another kiss.

He might be a brat, and a bit of a stray, but for better or for worse, he's definitely yours.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

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Thank you for reading!

If you have any ideas/prompts of what I should write next, feel free to comment or send me an ask. I’m open to writing more stuff with Soap, or any of the other members of the 141 (either with each other, reader, or a combination of everyone).

Cuddling with Soap❤️

Fluff and a drabble

Soap x GN!Reader

God he would be yapping the whole time as he held you close to his chest. Every moment or two he’d shift or change positions not feeling comfortable enough or wanting to be closer to you. His big smile would constantly be in your face or in your ear spouting about whatever comes to mind. Whether it is how beautiful you are or how Ghost was a bastard for making him run laps around the track.

His hands would always be wandering around your skin resting your hips, chest, or neck. Its not for any sexual reason despite Johnny being a dog its a reminder that your alive. Your warm skin and your heart beat calms his racing mind knowing you’re here with him.

If he does fall asleep before you and tucks your head under his chin holding you tightly. He wraps his legs around yours resting his arms around your chest. Whenever you shift or try to get up he just holds you tight muttering something unintelligible before relaxing again.

If you falls asleep first Johnny lays your head on a pillow. He lays next to you watching your blissfully calm face, your chest rising and falling with each breath. He admires you for minutes to hours, he never keeps track of time. These are the moments he cherishes when hes in some far away place away from you. Whether it be in some ramshackle building or in the forest these memories keep him warm at night.

If only all men were like my baby boy here :’)

Had a bad day - are all women pretty? Yes or yes?

INFINITE, yes. you will never catch john mactavish thinking a bird isn't pretty.

I’d put him in a little jar too 😌😌😌

Look at him go