Johnny Mactavish X Reader - Tumblr Posts

johnny 'soap' mactavish x reader

just pure fluff i thought of while half asleep, enoy :) - sun

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the fireplace crackles from the corner of your small apartment. although it was gas and not wood-burning, it still warmed the room and allowed for some sense of coziness. you're laying on the couch in your pajamas, curled up under a blanket waiting for johnny to return from the kitchen.

you can hear him rummaging through the cabinets, trying to cure his insatiable hunger. you wouldn't be surprised if he walked out with 4 different things to eat when all you asked for was for a bag of popcorn for the movie. "right, so i got your popcorn. but i brought some cookies, yogurt and string cheese if you want some," he announces proudly, setting everything down on the coffee table in front of you.

you almost laugh at his predictability, knowing him like the back of your hand after two years together. sitting up so he has room, he occupies the space next to you and leans his whole left side on you so that you're touching while he eats. as soon as he finishes, he yawns and lays his head on your shoulder. "johnny the movie barely started, you can't fall asleep yet!" you complain, pushing him back up straight.

"c'mon lass.. y'know i'm just trying to catch up on sleep," he laughs, leaning in to softly kiss along your neck, his fingers tickling your thigh. he had only been back for a few days and was sleeping like a rock through every night. once his head touches the pillow, he's out like a light, softly snoring beside you.

"mm' fine. but next time you have to stay awake the entire movie," you say, shooting him a fake warning look and he nods in response. his blue eyes seem to sparkle when they meet yours, completely enamored by you. he feels comfortable and safe with you around and finally allows himself to relax. moving to a spooning position, his strong arm lazily drapes over your waist, his breathing slowing by your ear eventually lulling you to sleep with him.

A/N: This is my first time posting so please be nice😭😭😭feedback is appreciated tho!

Warnings: Smut, Petplay, Soap refers to reader as bonnie/bunny, AFAB reader but can be read as gn!reader

Reader who really likes it when soap calls them bonnie/bunny and mean dom soap who tells her to earn her nickname since she likes it so much. You're confused cause how are you supposed to "earn" a nickname.

He's cooing and you and telling you how dumb you must be for him already if you really can't tell what he means.

He gets on the bed and lies on his back and waits for you to come over and unbutton his pants/take them off. What he wants is for you to ride him and bouce on his cock like a good little bunny would. And you do your best to do just that.

His cock is so thick that your thighs are shaking from the effort of taking him in this position. You're overstimulated from coming so much and so is Johnny but he'd never say it because he could stare at you in this position until he dies.

When you slow down to ease the overstimulation a little, he slaps your ass/gives you a rouch pat to the cheek to get you to hurry up and says "good bunnies don't pay attention to their pleasure and needs, only that of their master/owner" that spurs you on and you ride him until both of you are spend beyond the point of being able to cum anymore.

There's dried tear tracks on both of your faces, a ring of your cream around Soap's dick, and his cum spilling out of you and sticking to your thighs.

He praises you and tells you what a good bunny you were for him. You're his best bunny and he'll never want anyone else.

You're still so fucked out all you can do is nuzzle into his chest and you start falling asleep before he softly tuts at you and tells you that you need a bath before bed.

You whine and start fussing until he promises that he'll take the bath with you and you can have bubbles! You both get all nice and clean and change into some comfy jammies (or just stay naked) and lie down for bed.

Your head is still a little fuzzy coming down from being in that intense headspace for quite a while. Soap sees that and gently hold you and rocks you until you're asleep, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and giving you the sweetest dreams you've ever had💕

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 5 — 𝖕𝖙 4 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 7.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, petplay (as always), thigh reading, pussy eating, johnny gives reader a piggyback ride.

notes - it's here! and my life and health is worse for it, but it's here! please don't expect the next part any time soon, but thank you to those patiently waiting ♥ also on ao3! ♥

"Told you, pet, this mouth is mine now."

Johnny's mouth continues its loving assault on yours, overwhelming you with his kisses. It's filled with the same passion as the first time, but now Johnny's heat seeps straight from his bones and into you. 

His hands fall to your wrists, his touch warm and caressing and pinning you ever so slightly in place—just enough to keep you still, not enough to really restrict you. 

It's Johnny who pulls away from you, an exhaled fuck falling from his lips—your eyes flutter open to meet his, the baby blues flooded with lust. 

His gaze flickers to your lips before he whispers. "I dinnae want to stop kissing ye." 

He steals your breath with both the words and the feeling of his lips when they return to yours, each slide against you as if he's stealing them, afraid he won't get another for too long. Though with Johnny, you get the feeling any second your lips aren't connected to his are ones he wishes for nothing else. 

"Yeah, fuck..." You sigh as Johnny pulls away, his grip loosening as his forehead settles against yours. 

Neither of you can fight the smiles on your faces, as you both bask in each other's joy, and the rush of endorphins and arousal running through you. 

Johnny always makes you feel electric.

He laughs breathlessly, eyes sparkling with mirth as you can see him try to restrain himself. "'Spose I should let ye get settled first before I ravage ye." 

"I have no complaints if you don't." You giggle in return, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before willing yourself to pull away too. "But yeah, probably a good idea."

If both of you had less self-control, you had no doubts the tension could have pushed you into rutting in the entryway like rabid dogs, only managing to bare yourselves just enough to have Johnny sink inside you. From the look in his eyes and the feeling of his hardness pressed against you, he wants to take you here and now—but he's nothing if not a gentleman. 

You have no doubt that your own glassy eyes and soaked panties betray your need just the same, and there's a desperate, animalistic part of your brain that wants to drag him inside by the belt so that you can fall to your knees before him. 

Johnny straightens himself up, taking ahold of your hand and preparing to head into the flat proper. "Want the tour of the place?" 

You nod eagerly. "Of course." 

You pull your hand free for just a moment to abandon your shoes by the door-—leaving them amongst the existing pile of boots, which Johnny only adds to with his own.

With your hands reconnected and fingers intertwined, he guides you into the warmth of the flat. 

"I mean, the place is tiny, so it won't take long." He jokes, as he pulls you in further and throws his keys on the countertop. "Tada, living room and kitchen all in one." 

You take in the open space around you—the room flooded with moonlight and a faint glow from under the kitchen cupboards, as well as a lamp that's lit in the corner. The ceilings are high, and the floors are wooden—the kitchen and living room combined to create a large, albeit cosy room.

"Nice and spacious! I like that it's open plan." You coo, as Johnny paces forward, and you allow him to guide you. Your eyes rove over everything, from the well-worn couch to the framed photos of him and his squad, or the pictures of wild-eyed kids that can only be Johnny's nieces and nephews. 

"Aye. Can have ye curled up on the couch while am cooking, terribly, mind ye." Johnny nudges you playfully with his hip, drawing your attention back to the radiant smile on his face.

You follow him down a small corridor with doors on both sides. The door to the left opens into a bathroom with a large, walk-in, waterfall shower, illuminated with soft lighting when Johnny flicks the switch.

"Bathroom, with no bath." He explains, before his expression flickers to something briefly resembling a kicked puppy. "Bit sad about tha'." 

"Are you a bath man?" You ask, your mind visualising the muscular man indulging in rich aromas and piles of bubbles—it serves as quite the entertaining mental image. And then your mind flickers to him in the shower, water cascading down his toned body, knots in his shoulders just begging for relaxation...

"Absolutely. And if yer not into baths, I think I know just the way to convert ye." His hand squeezes yours playfully as he throws you a wink, and you're left wondering if he could somehow sense that your thoughts have turned dirty.

"I like the sound of that." 

Finally, you cross the hallway into the bedroom—a room filled with a mixture of earth tones and navy blues, the place is clean and tidy, beside the pile of clothes and various other things piled onto the chair in the corner. 

"And where we'll be staying, unless you'd prefer I sleep on the couch." 

You don't miss the sheepish look on his face, the look that tells you that sleeping apart from you is the last thing he'd rather do tonight—but you know that he'd do it in a heartbeat if you asked. 

Stepping closer into his space, you lace your other hand in his and sway them back and forth, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I will be falling asleep on your chest. That's non-negotiable, Johnny." 

"I'm glad tae hear." He pushes himself forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment after. "Can be ma little blanket for the night." 

"... But aye, that's about it." He gestures to the room with one of your intertwined hands.

"It's cosy here, I like it." You comment with a smile, taking in the welcoming atmosphere of the room—the hints that the place is lived in. 

Johnny comments as he moves closer to your ear—his breath warm as it flutters over your skin. "Hopefully, the first visit of many." 

"I hope so too. I'll be leaving my toothbrush here before you know it." 

You pull yourself from Johnny's hold, falling back onto the mattress and allowing your dress to ride up your legs as you prop yourself up on your elbows and stare at Johnny temptingly.

Your eyes trail over his body, savouring every delicious inch that is John MacTavish. His eyes chart a similar path, following up your exposed thighs. 

"Anyway, I think I'm all settled in now." You purr, trying to coax him back into kissing you like he was earlier. 

"Steamin' jesus." He all but growls as he comes closer, crawling over you and leaning down near to your lips as his arms cage you in. "Someone's a needy pup." 

With his face hovering inches from yours, you relish the opportunity to drink him all in. His baby blues sparkle with lust and fondness as they peer down at you, slightly hidden behind hooded lids. His eyelashes flutter so prettily, bouncing off his sweet, stubbled cheeks. 

Your eyes fall to his soft lips, the scar underlining them that you want to trace your thumb and tongue across—learn the story of. 

"Kiss me again, Johnny, please." You whisper softly, as one of his hands begins to stroke the top of your head. 

"Askin' so nicely, how can I say no?" He smirks one last time before closing the gap, both of your eyes fluttering shut as your lips finally reconnect. 

There's never a moment when Johnny's lips don't feel heavenly—he kisses you like a man starved and allows his hips to falter and press against your core. His clothed erection rubs against your centre, the denim pushing across your thin panties and sending your brain spinning. 

It's instinct when you buck your hips up into his, chasing more contact from his throbbing length. The more time you spend around Johnny, the more intoxicated you become on his presence—your hesitations melt away, replaced by an overwhelming need that's only sated when Johnny is pressed against you. 

The moan that leaves your throat is entirely accidental, but causes Johnny to buck against you and groan right back at you—after the moment of slipped control, he stills.  

"Bonnie..." Johnny pulls away, a soft, hesitant look in his eyes as he tries his hardest to hold back. "I meant what I said about not expecting anything." 

For a moment, you feel awful, like a temptress pushing him to the limits of his self-restraint—but your own desires swirl inside you dangerously, with every moment with Johnny only adding fuel to the fire. 

The fact Johnny can want you so passionately and still remain firmly in charge of the both of you only reinforces the disgustingly puppylike crush you have on him.

"I know. I'm just enjoying kissing you properly." You sigh before taking a deep breath to release some of your pent-up arousal. 

"Aye, me too." He continues to stroke at the top of your head as his thumb brushes across your warm cheek, making you shiver. "Hard to keep ma hands to myself." 

"Yeah, tell me about it." Your hands rake down his chest, slowing once you feel the hardness of his abs beneath the cotton.

Johnny's hand falls to clutch your wrists, stilling your exploration of his body. The look in his eyes is all cheek and charm. "I should get you fed." 

"Boo."

The look turns ever so slightly warning. "Pup, Johnny knows best, aye?" 

"To the kitchen!" You announce cheerfully, breaking through the tension of the moment and redirecting the both of you before you end up wrapping your legs around Johnny and refusing to let go until he's spilled himself inside you.

With a breathy laugh, Johnny stands from the bed, turning around and offering his back for you to climb upon. When he finally has you safely stowed on him, his fingers gripping at your thighs as your arms wrap around his neck, he carries you to the kitchen.

Johnny doesn't let you back down to the floor immediately, instead heading to the fridge with you still clinging to him like a koala.

"Probably should've asked ye what toppings you wanted, but I just grabbed a bit of everything." He explains as he opens the door and reveals a shelf bursting with cheeses, vegetables, and meats. 

You quickly scan the shelf for any nasty surprises like the anchovies or olives Johnny had mentioned on the way over, and find yourself relieved that everything on offer is delicious—with some of your favourite pizza toppings even there. "So much choice, and nothing disgusting, I'm surprised, Johnny." 

"Hey now, I do have taste... sometimes." The pout in his voice is evident as he shuffles you further up his back before removing the hold of one of his hands to start removing the dough, sauce, and toppings so he can set them atop the counter. 

Your eyes fall to the rest of the shelves, with the vast majority of them being stacked with the same plastic poultry liners. "Johnny, your fridge is 90% plain chicken breast, I'm not sure that I trust that." 

"Well, actually, some of that is turkey." He smirks, until you lean forward into his sight-line with a grumpy look on your face. "Dinnae go glaring at me, bonnie girl." 

"Clearly I need to be fed so I have less of an attitude." You huff, playfully teasing him about his earlier interruption to your fun.

Johnny finally lowers you to the ground, setting you beside him before he grabs the final few ingredients. "I'm working on it!"

With everything ready and set out, you start to plan out the deliciousness that will be your creation. Everything Johnny picked out is fresh and delicious, and almost calling out to you to be a part of your meal. You rush to wash your hands so you can get started. 

"I feel like I'm gonna pick too many toppings and my pizza will just be a mess." You explain as you start to open a few packets while Johnny moves to the sink. "What are you having?" 

"Lil bit of everything, why no'?" He shrugs, the smile on his face wide and infectious.

"I'm so excited!" You giggle, already thoroughly enjoying your little pizza party with Johnny. As you watch Johnny dry his hands and then begin to work the dough, a mischievous thought pops into your head. "It's a shame we didn't make the dough from scratch, though." 

As soon as Johnny looks at you, he knows exactly where your thoughts have headed, and his face splits with an amused grin. "So ye could throw flour at me?"

"Flour fight, exactly." You nod. 

Johnny sets down the dough, moving into your space and grabbing you by the hips to spin you to face him. He looms over you— grin now devilish, eyes sharp and tone teasing. "I'd win, hen, dinnae think otherwise." 

You bite your lip, staring up at Johnny and shivering under his touch. "Hmm, you'd be covered in flour and looking so good, so I think I'd really be the winner."

"Next time, then." He purrs as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He pulls away after a few moments, yet lingers in your space and sends heat rushing through your veins.

"I suppose I could still smear sauce all over you." You tease, your arousal making you even more daring and flirtatious.

"Just askin' fer trouble with tha'." He growls, pulling you flush against his body as he pulls his lip between his teeth.

"Oh no... how terrible." 

One hand moves in a flash, slapping lightly and groping at your ass as Johnny rubs himself against you. "Ye won't be saying that when yer arse is red raw." He groans in your ear. 

"You wouldn't be spanking me when I'm too busy licking the sauce off your face." You giggle, squirming under his touch. Brattiness isn't your usual go-to around Johnny, but sometimes he just inspires it.

"Dirty fuckin' pup." He growls, his voice almost feral and animalistic in the way it rips from his throat.

He holds your gaze, commanding you with just a look as he removes his hands and leans to the counter. He returns with the jar, popping open the lid with ease before offering it to you. 

"Go awn then." He commands, his expression serious as he urges the jar closer to you. 

You glance between him and the jar, uncertain of what he's asking for a moment before the realisation hits—he's making you cover him in the sauce.  

The moment stretches on in the heavy silence, as Johnny stares you down with an expectant look, waiting for you to comply. You timidly dip your finger into the sauce, hand trembling as you move to swipe it across Johnny's cheek. You assume he's going to messily return the favour, but he just continues to hold your gaze. 

"Now lick it." He whispers, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

You can't help but comply, pushing yourself up close to his face and darting out your tongue just enough to clean his stubbled cheek. 

It's then he grips you again, stilling you in place as you're draped across his body. "Good fucking girl." He purrs, and then returns the favour—gripping your cheek with one hand and smearing your face with sauce with the other. 

Then he licks you, long tongue trailing slowly up your cheek and leaving you wet and squirming. 

"Johnny, ew!" You giggle wildly, almost feeling tickled by his tongue against your skin. 

"Ew? Really, lass? Won't be saying tha' later when it's my tongue in yer cunt." He makes sure his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he continues to tease you with his words. "Won't be sayin' tha' later when I have ye slobbering all over my cock."

He punctuates the last sentence by pulling you tight against him once more, making you feel the weight of his throbbing cock against you. You find your self-control rapidly slipping once more, especially when his lips dip to press kisses to the bare expense of your neck.

"Mercy, please." You squeal, attempting to wiggle free from his hold. "Otherwise, we might have to abandon the pizzas."

Luckily, Johnny is feeling kind as he pulls away and gives you space—yet the glint in his eye remains. 

"Mercy, for now."

You and Johnny try your best to focus on making the pizzas without further incident—listening to early 2000s pop punk and exchanging little bits and pieces of conversation. He informs you that his Captain's house is more in the countryside and has a proper brick pizza oven in the garden that gets used precisely once a year when he throws a birthday party for Gaz.  

It makes you chuckle how Johnny seems to enthuse about how much better the pizzas are when they aren't made in his "shitty little electric oven". It also makes your heart swell when Johnny mentions how Gaz's birthday is just around the corner, and that you have to come with him to the party. 

When Johnny pulls your pizzas from the oven, you're surprised to see they both managed to cook well despite the pile of toppings and cheese.

The two of you eat your gooey pizzas as you curl up on the couch and watch an episode of Midsomer Murders. Admittedly, you'd been sceptical at first, and a little confused as to why a man in his late 20s was so into a show you watched growing up with your aunt. Then you heard his enthusiasm for solving the cases, and couldn't bring yourself to care about the slightly amateurish acting or the way the theme tune reminded you of the smell of her house. 

When you realise halfway through that you're pretty sure Johnny's guesswork about the case is wrong, you feel your puppy love grow at least ten sizes, and say nothing as you watch the misguided enthusiasm and smugness sparkle in his eyes.

After a second episode finishes, you ready yourself to head back to the kitchen with the plates but find yourself stilled as Johnny grabs your wrist.

"Do you not want help with the dishes?" You ask, head tilted slightly in confusion.

"Maybe later." Johnny pulls you back down onto the couch before fixing you with a look that makes your cheeks flush. His hand finds its way to your face, cupping your burning skin as his thumb traces over your lips with intent.

"Oh, later, I see." You can't help but smile, and Johnny's thumb chases the newfound curve of your lips. 

A lustful fire ignites in the pit of your stomach as you watch Johnny's eyes fixate on your lips, and you notice his pupils are blooming with arousal. 

It's instinctual and automatic, the way you feel your body call out to connect with Johnny's once more, and you give in to the magnetic pull as you climb into his lap and settle atop him. Your hands curl around the thick column of the back of his neck, steadying yourself as you squirm around to get comfortable.

Johnny's large hands cling to your hips—a warning grip stilling you as his cock stirs to life underneath your core and pushes harsh denim against the soft cotton of your panties. 

"Bonnie." The word is growled, yet wrapped in playfulness, as his eyes flare with warning and his fingers continue to dig into the plush of your hips.

"Yes?" You coo innocently. 

"Careful now." 

"I just want to kiss you." You whine, while resisting the urge to grind down on Johnny's length. Instead, your lips fall to kiss his stubbled jaw, and the protruding veins on the side of his neck. "Can't get enough of you." 

Your own words break the dam of your self-restraint, as you give in to your urges and chase the bolts of pleasure that course through you, nudging your clit back and forth against the cock you crave so badly. 

"Neither can I." He whispers brusquely, the words sounding throatier as you continue to kiss him and writhe against him. His hands guide your hips along your path, each thrust earning you a growl from deep within his chest. "Ye drive me mad, steamin' fuckin' jesus." 

Your hips continue to writhe on instinct, addicted to the feeling of rocking on Johnny's bulge and the way the sensation ebbs at consciousness and makes your brain cottony around the edges. You nuzzle into Johnny's neck, seeking comfort and closeness as you continue to slip deeper and deeper.

"Johnny, I'm going crazy, I need you." Your words are whined against his skin, desperate pleas appealing to his baser instincts, practically begging him to just give in and take you already. The impulsive voice in the back of your head chants his name over and over again, as it always does. 

This time it's stronger, overwhelmingly so, as you're wrapped in his arms and able to melt into his touch. 

"Ya have me, pet." He whispers—holding you close, nuzzling you back, and pressing the gentlest of kisses to the top of your head. "'m all yours." 

Johnny continues working his hips up into your core, meeting you thrust for thrust and grind for grind. The sensation of your bodies meeting draws groans from his throat, each erratic connection making you both tremble.

Your eyes meet, an intense connection as Johnny's eyes search yours—him seeming to read every little flicker of emotion within them. Whatever he sees there spurs him into action, as he repositions his grip and redirects you—widening his legs before he pushes you down against his thick, denim-clad thigh.

"Tha's better." He sighs, immediately moving your hips again for you, rubbing your pussy across his muscle and giving you much-needed contact.

You find your rhythm quickly, working with Johnny to build delicious friction—the heightened sensations and connection have you overly sensitive, your blood fizzing all over your body just at being able to grind against Johnny. You know he's going to ruin you when things really start to escalate. You also know you're not going to last long at all.

"Humping my thigh like a good pup." Johnny groans as he buries himself into the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin—you tilt your head to accommodate him getting access to wherever his mouth pleases. 

"Gonna leave a wet spot." You feel the way your wet panties are clinging to your folds and know some of your arousal is leaking through to the denim beneath. 

Johnny growls, his thigh pushing up to meet you more firmly, as if begging to be soiled further. "Go awn, soak ma jeans." 

"Johnny..." 

"Sound so pretty whinin' fer me, whimperin'." He purrs straight into your ear, making your back arch as your skin tingles all over. "Gonna bark for me?" 

You quickly shake your head before hiding in Johnny's chest, cheeks ablaze. "'m shy." You whisper, hoping said reservedness won't disappoint him. 

One of Johnny's hands makes its way up your body, stopping to stroke the top of your head soothingly. "It's okay, pup, it'll come." He reassures you, not let down in the slightest. "Jus' keep grinding."

Your hips move with renewed fervour, chasing the rapidly building high that twists and coils in your stomach. Pleasure radiates out from your core, flowing through your veins and clouding your brain—refocusing yourself entirely on being good for Johnny.

"Feels good?" Johnny asks in response to your escalating whines and moans. "Use yer words for me."

Words are hard to form when your throat is so tightened and your mind so blissed out, but you have to obey. Each thrust pushes you closer and closer to the edge, closer to your reward. The tension between you and Johnny has been building for so long, with your need rapidly spiralling from the moment the two of you first started talking.

You need the release, need to cum under Johnny's touch and command—finally let him into your mind where his commands will make their home. As your thighs tremble around Johnny's, you force yourself to summon the strength to lift your head, to use your words just like Johnny had asked. 

"Feels good, so close." You admit, voice not above a whisper as you get hypnotised by the sparkling blue eyes that are hidden by hooded lids. 

Johnny is looking at you like he's going to devour you, and all you've done so far is rub your slick cunt all over his thigh. You shiver with the thought of just how much more intensity can build between you—you wonder how you're going to survive it.  

"Needy pup, want ye tae cum fer me. Jus' fer me." One of Johnny's hands now cups your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes locked onto his as you continue to writhe wildly against him.

His words push you so much closer, your brain waiting for his word as you try your hardest to not cum even a second before he tells you too. 

"Can ye do that, pet?" 

You nod mindlessly as your body goes into overdrive, the pressure making your body coil tighter as your brain finally fizzles out of any coherent thought. All you can do is keep your eyes fixed on Johnny, as you replay his words over and over in your head. 

Pet. Pup. Hump. Whine. 

Operating entirely on instinct, your mouth falls open, tongue lolling out as you pant and whine—right on the edge, waiting. As if in your thoughts, Johnny senses that you're right at the edge, as his thigh tenses to be the perfect surface for you to rub against, and his hand forces your cunt down even more snugly before. 

"Pretty pup, tha's it." He coos, voice dripping with sweet, gentle authority. "Cum fer me."

With his command finally whispered, you buck one more and fly over the edge, straight into the ecstasy of a blinding orgasm—one that's weeks in the making. 

Johnny continues to coax you through it, whispered praise and encouragement accompanying every little aftershock until you practically collapse against his chest. 

"Oh my god, that was..." You struggle to breathe, still struggle to think as you sink into Johnny's embrace. "I needed that, thank you."

Soft touches adorn every inch of your body, Johnny petting you sweetly and embracing the sensitivity of your skin in the afterglow. "My pleasure. Ye were such a good girl fer me." 

"Sorry about your jeans. And you not—"

Johnny doesn't let you finish your unnecessary apologies. "Dinnae be." 

He pulls you even closer, arms wrapping around your waist and back and holding you in a tight, reassuring embrace as the both of you come back down to normalcy. You can practically feel the smile on Johnny's lips with every kiss against your forehead, and his unbridled joy is still radiating off of him when you finally lean up to reconnect your lips with his. 

After a few sweet pecks, you find yourself burrowing back into his chest as you try to suppress a yawn. 

"Tired, bonnie?" Johnny asks, voice quiet. 

You respond simply with a gentle nod.

"Let's get you to bed, then." He chuckles, tapping the backs of your thighs to encourage you to stand. 

You can't help but whine just a little, entirely resistant to moving even if Johnny's bed is only a short walk away. "It's too early to sleep." You try to reason, even if you have no clue of the time.

Johnny presses another kiss to your forehead—his smirk cheeky and eyes bright. "Who said we'd be sleeping?" 

With assistance from Johnny, you sleepily stumble to his bedroom and immediately plop yourself down on the edge of the mattress while Johnny fetches your forgotten bags from the entryway. 

Your orgasm has left you a little boneless and ignited an even stronger craving for connection with Johnny. He parts from you for even a moment, and your body calls out to be cuddled up with him again.

Luckily, he returns quickly, setting the bag down beside you so you can sleepily rifle through the bag for your pyjamas.

When you finally locate the silky set, you urge yourself off the bed and head for the bathroom. Johnny stops you by the wrists before you can reach the door. 

"Where are ye going?" He asks, an adorable look of confusion on his face. 

"To get changed." You explain, trying to stop your voice from trembling with nerves. Despite just cumming on this man's thigh, there's something startling about the vulnerability of changing before him that makes your walls shoot up and your body stiffen. 

Johnny's thumb runs over your wrist, as his expression softens, and he releases his hold.

"'s okay." He nods, turning to grab his own pyjama bottoms and beating you out of the door to the bathroom, leaving you in the comfort of his room. "Shout me when yer done, aye?"

The door clicks shut behind Johnny, as your heart fills with warmth at his easy and sweet accommodation of you. 

You slip off your dress first, folding it semi-neatly and slipping into the bag before you opt to slip off your panties too—they're still soaked through from your earlier activities and were clinging to your folds almost uncomfortably. You quickly shimmy on the matching silk set—cute shorts with a cami top, as you try to remember the confidence you felt when trying the set on.

You call out to Johnny, beckoning him back into the room and hoping his reaction to your outfit is everything you could hope for.

When Johnny slips round the door, his eyes almost jump out of his head—though you're sure yours are doing the same. "Fuckin' christ, bonnie." 

Your eyes rake down Johnny's body just as he does you—his chest is bare, and his plaid pyjama bottoms are slung low on his hips. You can't tear your eyes away, as they dart around taking in every little feature—the broad muscles, slight dusting of hair, or constellation of scars and freckles all down his torso. It's hard to decide which part of him is the most delicious, the most deserving of your eyes' attention. 

"Christ yourself." You whisper, completely in awe. 

Johnny steps forward, taking your hands in his and pulling you into his warmth. His smile is adoring, his eyes showing nothing but reverence as he takes in every detail of you—you wonder if he's recognised just what you've done. 

"You look so good, I wanna eat you." His words are purred into your neck as he presses kisses along your skin, and his hands slip all over your silky skin and barely-there clothes. His hands find their way to the hem of your top, pausing slightly as if asking for consent. 

"Johnny..." You whine as you turn your head nervously, shielding your embarrassed expression from view and desperately hoping you don't have to explain yourself further. 

He cups your jaw tenderly, without any intention of turning you to face him. His voice is just as considerate. "Nervous?" 

"I know it's silly, but..." You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. 

I'm scared you won't like what you see. 

I'm scared you'll leave once you get what you want. 

I'm scared I won't compare to what you imagined, to what you deserve. 

Johnny can sense it all, or at least some of it—as his eyes briefly flare with intense worry. He pulls away before you can ask, flicking the light switch and plunging you both into inky darkness—the room only illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. 

"How's this, hen?" He asks, finding his way back to you.

Somehow, the barely-there lighting of the room feels like a safety blanket—a joyous hiding-in-the-pillow fort feeling, instead of being subjected to a spotlight that seems to amplify all your insecurities.

"Better." Your smile is genuine as you reposition atop the bed, pulling Johnny with you gently as you seek comfort. The two of you scramble up the bed, laying over the covers and facing each other—just inside each other's embrace. 

Johnny's handsome features are visible enough in the dim, with his easy smile still lighting up the room. "Will just have to feel ma way around... if tha's okay." 

"Touch but don't look, instead of the other way around." You laugh, the act releasing some of your pent-up worry. Your hand chases Johnny's, moving it from the bed to your body and encouraging him to touch you. "Sounds good to me." 

"That's ma girl. Ye feel fucking divine." He sighs his words into your skin, leaning forward for a kiss as his hand dips under the fabric of your top and rests on the curve of your waist. His thumb still appreciatively strokes across the satin of your pyjamas.

"I bought these just for you." You admit, voice a soft whisper. 

"Did ye pick the colour of my eyes on purpose, pet?" 

So he had noticed, you think. "Yeah..."

Johnny's easy expression falters for a moment, his usual confidence wavering in the face of such a heartfelt act. 

"Fuckin' christ." His hand squeezes at your side as he lets out a shaky sigh. "And as if I wasn't hard enough."

"Oh?" Your hand reaches out to rest on Johnny's chest, fingers raking down slightly on your path of exploration, headed straight for the waistband of his bottoms where your ignited curiosity is focused. 

Your fingers itch to feel his cock again, remembering how deliciously hard and huge he had felt under your touch in the café. This time, you could feel him without reservation, and experience exactly the effect you have on him without any barriers of material or propriety. 

His eyebrow arches at the action, and his eyes sparkle interest. "Bonnie, where's tha' hand going?"

"I wanna feel it, please." You whisper, accompanying your words with a teasing touch as you slip your thumb under the waistband and tug at the elastic. 

Another tremulous exhale passes his lips before he pulls the lower one between his teeth. "When ye beg like tha’, how can I say no?"

Your hand dives below his waistband as you eagerly wrap your hand around the satiny smooth skin of his cock—feeling the bulging veins and the way the tip leaks with sticky pre.

“Fuck.” You continue to explore his length, stroking slowly and reverently as you watch his face for his reactions—relishing in each quiver of his brows or flutter of his lashes. “Honestly, I don't know how I got this far without begging you to show it to me.”

He chuckles as his hips buck slightly to meet your touch, frenetic energy building inside of him. “Guess for now you’ll just have to keep feelin’. Make up fer lost time.”

“Johnny…” 

“Yes, puppy?”

You stroke down to the base, gripping it firmly for a moment as you speak. "There's no way you're fitting that inside me—" 

Johnny's eyes flare with ravenous need, his smile turning delightfully sinful before he devours your protests with a messy kiss—a hand gripping at your chin. 

"Shhh, I know that pretty cunny can take me." He purrs his words into your mouth, forcing you to practically swallow them and all of their intensity. "When the time comes, we'll go slow. I'll take care of ye, train my puppy to take me."

Your body squirms involuntarily, arousal and surrender washing over you in waves as Johnny's authoritative tone melts you back into a submissive headspace. 

"Your mouth is evil, Johnny." You whine and shiver. "You know what you do to me, right?" 

"I have an idea." He smirks, as the hand gripping your down trails down your neck and over your body before stopping at your waistband for permission. "Wouldnae mind more of one, though, if tha's okay." 

"Please."

It's impossible to hold back your gasp as Johnny's thick fingers finally slide in between your soaked folds and make contact with your sensitive clit. 

He swipes through your wetness repeatedly, dipping down to tease at your entrance before pulling more slick over your clit and swirling it easily with his fingers. You curl into him slightly, forehead falling against his as your legs fall apart, and you surrender to his touch. 

Each stroke feels electric, and your hips rise and fall to chase every little sensation you get from the way he explores you. You find your eyes drifting shut from the pleasure, and the need to shield yourself from the intensity of his hungry stare. 

"Fuck, drippin' fer me." His voice is lower, coming from deeper in his chest, as you feel his dick throb. He's stopped rutting into your hand, instead focused entirely on you.

"... When I got home after our date, I was soaked right through." You admit, voice shaky and unsteady and wracked with pleasure. The glow radiates outwards from your core, coiling in your stomach. Despite your earlier release, your need is still overwhelming—Johnny's touch feeling better than anything you've felt in so long.

"Always makin' a mess. Making a mess on ma fingers right now."

"I can't help it." You whimper helplessly, and even more so when Johnny's fingers withdraw from your folds and leave your cunt aching for him. 

Your eyes fly open in time to watch him take the soaked digits in his mouth, cleaning your mess off of them with his tongue as he gives you an intense, unwavering look that makes your cheeks blaze.

"Taste heavenly, bonnie. Think I need more of a taste, though." He grins, his eyes raging with a hunger that makes your stomach flip.

"Fuck," You sigh, wanting his mouth on you and yet feeling a sense of guilt for even thinking about letting him. "I... I should get you off first." 

You return to stroking his length, your movements having stilled as he had focused on you, but his hand moves to grip your wrist—stilling it in its tracks. 

"Lass, if you give me the word, there's nothin' coming between me and eating tha' kitty of yours. Not even my own cock." 

The certainty in his tone and his look almost have you convinced, but that niggle of insecurity and worry still lingers in the back of your mind, urging you to deny yourself of the pleasures Johnny can give you.

"I don't usually..." You trail off, struggling to finish your sentence. Part of you wants to say you don't let guys go down on you, but it's not like the last one even cared to offer.

You haven't even told Johnny any details, yet he seems enthusiastic enough to compensate for any of the experiences you've had in the past. 

His expression cycles through a myriad of emotions—confusion, sadness, and anger, before he settles on a soft yet determined look.

"Do you want me to go down on ye?" 

"Yes." Your answer slips out far too quickly, but the thought of his mouth on your cunt makes your head spin.

His hand returns to cup your cheek, stroking reassuringly as his eyes plead with you. "Then please, bonnie." 

You swallow, pushing away the voices in the back of your head as you nod, and Johnny scrambles down the bed. 

He pulls down your shorts and tosses them aside, before his arms wrap around your thighs to pull them apart. His lips quickly find their way to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, kissing and licking and biting ever so slightly as you squirm helplessly beneath him. 

His muscular arms keep your lower body exactly where he wants you, as his kisses move higher and higher before they press the outside of your folds and make you cry out. 

"Poor little neglected kitty." He coos, before pressing more kisses to your lips. 

"Johnny—"

"Shh." He interrupts you sharply yet playfully, looking up from between your legs and fixing you with a light-hearted glare. "Am making introductions." 

He refocuses his attention back on your cunt, a hand moving so he can stroke his thumb back and forth over your sensitive nub while he coos sweet nothings into your centre.

"Need someone to take care of ye? I'm a good owner, promise." He dives in and captures your clit in an open-mouthed kiss, sucking slightly before pulling off with a pop. "Know how tae play with ye just right."

It's overwhelming, the way he talks and the fact he's talking to your cunt like it's separate from you, and yet something he's just enamoured with. 

He starts eating you in earnest, tongue swiping up and down your folds, stubble rubbing against your skin—sweet, hot pleasure trickles through you with every little sensation, and you know you're not going to last long under Johnny's mouth.

"Fuck, can't wait to see ye properly. Pretty pussy, all fer me." 

He dives back in, all tongue and lips and slick, wet heat as he makes love to your clit and folds with his mouth—drawing out every whine and whimper you're capable of making. 

"Oh my god," You gasp, hand falling to his head so your fingers can tangle in his hair. "You're so good fucking with your tongue." 

When he pulls back to talk, his lips glisten with your arousal. "'m not just talk, bonnie. Think ye can take my fingers too?"

"Please, please." You beg, almost urging him back to your core as his fingers circle your entrance before slowly sinking in. 

The two digits stretch you slowly, getting you accustomed to the assault before his tongue is on your clit again, all of him working in tandem to make you shiver and squirm. Your cunt squelches with each thrust and lick, Johnny forcing more arousal to leak from your pretty hole as he lavishes you with attention and pleasure. 

"Such pretty sounds." He mumbles, though his eyes don't meet yours.

"Do you mean me or..." You swallow nervously, shyness overtaking you as you summon the words to address yourself. "...her?" 

"Both of ye." He growls, before feasting with renewed fervour. 

You've never had a man eat you like this in your life, as Johnny drinks your nectar like he needs it to survive, and caresses your insides with the most reverent touch. His has you completely undone beneath him, moaning loud enough to disturb the neighbours and racing towards your peak in record time.

Your legs shake against his hold, your hips naturally rising to meet his mouth as your pleasure builds and builds, pushing you ever further toward ecstasy. 

"I'm close." You whimper when the precipice arrives, and Johnny doesn't hold back in the slightest.

"Cum fer me." He mumbles, before sucking you over the edge. Your thighs squeeze and tremble around his head as you explode under his tongue and clench around his thick fingers. 

His attention doesn't wane until he's wrung every little bit of pleasure out of your quivering body. "Mhmmm. Good girl."

He presses one last kiss to your clit, bidding her goodbye before he gently slides your shorts back up your legs and joins you at the head of the bed.

"Fuck..."

The afterglow flows through you like lava in your veins, filling you with a warmth that only grows as Johnny strokes your face. 

"Can I kiss ye?" He asks, his lips hovering just a fraction from your own. 

"I need you to. I'll just ignore the taste of myself."

"Your loss."

He closes the distance, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one so achingly sweet you pay no mind to the taste of yourself on your tongue. 

Johnny continues to caress your face as he deepens the kiss, making you breathless once more.

You find yourself having to turn away from the kiss to bury your head into the pillow as you stifle an overwhelming yawn. 

"Tired fer real now, sweetheart?" Johnny whispers, chasing you to press kisses to the side of your head. 

You turn back to face Johnny, noses almost brushing together as you give the slightest confirmatory nod. "'m a little sleepy." 

Johnny rushes to slide off the bed, throw back the covers, and position himself on his back. He pats his chest in invitation, smiling at you ever so sweetly. "Your pillow awaits. Non-negotiable, aye?" 

It takes a little bit of shuffling on both behalves to get you settled under the covers and snuggled up to the warmth and comfort that is Johnny's chest. Your cheek is pressed to his pec as your arm settles across his torso—he loops an arm around your back and pulls the other one over his body, holding the thigh that rests over his hips.

You cuddle in closer, relishing the way your bodies fit together, and the way his chest cradles your head so perfectly. "Mhm. Comfy pillow." 

"I'm glad—"

You interrupt him immediately, your hand coming up to smooth over his chest and squeeze appreciatively. 

"Shh." You whisper condescendingly, imitating Johnny's tone from earlier when he was between your legs. "I'm making introductions."

His chest rumbles with a laugh, as he lets you get well acquainted with his pecs. "Brat." 

Your eyes quickly slip shut, your hand stilling of any further movement. Johnny's voice is a sweet whisper from above you as you drift out of consciousness. 

"Sweet dreams, bonnie."

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smthing that's been constant in my mind when it comes to Soap- him just edging you and then whe he finally fucks you properly and he's close to finishing he just... pulls out and cums on you instead of allowing you to feel full of him; he absolutely worships you afterwards and makes sure you're taken care of but not before being absolutely evil

ohhh thats just cruel anon. i love it and it's something soap would totally do!! he likes to be a wee shite before absolutely worshiping and pleasuring you, he enjoys how squirmy and whiny you get !!

warnings/tags: soap x gn reader, rough sex, teasing, degradation, slightly mean soap, aftercare

you're panting and gasping as your body is continuously pushed further and further up the bed from johnny's strong thrusts. his hips smack into the meat of your arse, and it hurts so good - dark bruises bound to show up afterwards.

"tha' good hen?" johnny groans, a wicked smile on his face as he towers above you, one hand gripping at your hip while the other trails up to your stomach, pushing down on the bulge he creates in your stomach. a high pitched whine leaves you at the sensation, your hole stuffed full, tightening and pulsing around his thick cock.

"cannae speak? c'mon, tell me how it feels." he coos, pouting down at you but as he does this, his hips pick up pace and force, pretty much making you unable to respond from the overwhelming pleasure. "fucked ye dumb, haven't i? jus' a cockdrunk slut now." he chuckles to himself, continuing his mean pace as you start to slip away.

well that is until he comes to a stop, hips slowing down all of a sudden and your head tilts up, dazed eyes staring up at him. "wh-wha? johnnyyyy." you whimper, trying to ask him what he's doing but he stays silent, instead thrusting slowly and shallowly, so he isn't hitting any sensitive spots inside of you and instead pleasuring just himself.

your hips buck up and grind down, trying so desperately to chase his cock but you don't get much chance before big hands and wrapping around your hips and forcefully pinning you down into the mattress. "yer so selfish love, jus' let me enjoy mysel for a minute and take ma time then i'll get back tae fuckin ye, awright?" he groans.

you whine and complain all through it but he pays no mind to you and before he knows it, he's close. you can tell from his tale tell signs, like how his eyes struggle to stay open from the pleasure and the way his hips twitch. your mind get's floaty with the idea of him filling you up to the brim, feeling his hot load coating your insides.

but then, you feel him pull out and instead grind down into your thigh, panting and moaning as his cock gives a slight twitch before spurting cum all over your stomach. "nononon- johnny whyyyy!" you squirm, but his hands keep you pressed into the mattress as his head tips back to let out throaty groans, his hips lazily grinding down against your skin.

once it becomes too much, he stops his hips and looks down at you with an innocent smile. "fit's wrong with ye?" he asks, head tilting to the side just like a puppy. you slap his chest, "you know whats wrong! why didn't you come inside of me?" you question, arms crossing against your chest and he laughs.

"didnae feel like it, why? ye mad hen?" he says with a dismissive laugh that has your body running hot. "...maybe." you mutter, looking away from him and he coos down at you. "dinnae worry, i'll treat ye well now eh? fuckin worship ye, tha' will make ye better aye?" he questions, one hand coming away from your hip to instead grab your face and make you look up at him again. you nod shyly up at him and he leans down to give you a messy hot kiss.

the rest of the night is spent with him between your thighs, taking his time pleasuring you with his mouth in just the right way, how you like it the most. hours spent with his tongue wrapped around your sensitive spots and inside of your hole, really taking his time with you before he finally fucks you again, making sure to fill you up just how you wanted.

he makes up for his mean teasing earlier by making you cum more than three times, watching the way your brain leaks out of you. and by the time he's done, you're almost asleep on your shared bed, eyes struggling to stay open which he finds endearing.

he cleans you up slowly, wiping down your body before dressing you in one of his t-shirts and tucking you into bed, leaving you to sleep as he holds you to his chest and gently pets your head. "proud of ye, sweetheart." johnny mumbles into your ear.

Bad Days - Johnny "Soap" MacTavish 

Warnings: semi-detailed descriptions of depression. this is purely a self-indulgent work cause i've been having a very tough time recently, but thinking about the 141 makes it better! Also not beta read cause I refuse to reread my work🙃Enjoy!!!

You'd had a shitty day at work, and all you wanted was to come home and wallow in your feelings. Johnny had been deployed for months, and he didn’t have the slightest clue on when he'd be back home. He hadn't been able to communicate with you regularly either, due to him having very spotty reception. 

Walking up to your door, you pull your keys out, when all of a sudden, the door swings open. And standing there you see your boyfriend. Your Johnny. 

He expected you to be excited. Thrilled, even, at his return. What he hadn't expected was your face crumbling and sobs falling from your lips. Immediately, he takes you into his arms and starts to comfort you. 

"It's okay, sweet boy, everything's alright. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. 'M gonna take real good care of ye, I promise." 

Rubbing his hands along your arms, he ushers you inside. "It's too cold bun, need tae get you inside"

He sits you down on the couch gently and wraps a blanket around you. "You stay right here, I’ll be right back, my love. Going tae make you some tea and bring a snack for you"

Keeping true to his word, Johnny's back in less than 5 minutes, immediately taking his place next to you on the couch. Once again taking you into his arms, he lets you fall apart in his embrace. His face fixes into a grimace at seeing and hearing the sobs rack your body. It feels like someone's reached into his chest and pulled out his heart. He hates seeing you like this. The only thing he can think is that he needs to fix it. He can’t have his baby being sad especially when he’s there in person.

"Shhh, yer face is much too handsome for these tears, dove," he whispers to you. "Need ye tae talk tae me 'bout what's going on"

"Just a bad day," you respond.

He scoffs. "Seems like more than just a bad day, love."

"Missed you. It started with a bad day, then it was a bad week, and before I knew it, I'd felt bad for a whole month," you sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me bonnie?"

Hiding your face in his chest you reply, "Didn't wanna bother you. You were working. Don't wanna distract you with my whining. It's not even about anything important."

He tilts your head up with his index finger, "If it's enough to upset you this much, it's important. Anything that upsets you is important to me. My job is tae keep you safe and happy. How am I supposed tae do that if you don't tell me what's going on, sweet boy?"

"I dunno," you mumble while once again burying your face, but in his neck this time. 

His chuckle reverberates throughout your body. "Silly boy, I can't see your pretty face when you hide from me like that."

"I've been crying all day Johnny, I look horrible."

Johnny raises his eyebrows and gives you a stare that makes you second guess whether or not you just insulted his mohawk. "Don't say shite like that, bonnie. 'S the furthest thing from the truth. Yer the most beautiful boy I've ever seen in my life. Don't care how you think you look, I'll always see you for what you are, and you truly are beautiful. Inside and out. That being said, you look gorgeous even in this moment"

"You're gonna make me start crying again babe"

His gaze softens and he takes your face in his hands again. With a soft peck to your temple, he says, "Well let's avoid that, why don't we, hmm? Do you wanna talk about what's bothering you anymore?"

"Mmm not right now. Just wanna snuggle with you for a bit. But we can talk about it later, maybe?"

He nods, "Whenever you're up to it, bun. I'm always here to listen to you. I'm sorry I'm not always here physically, though."

"It's your job, Johnny. I get it. I mean it's hard sometimes, but we make it work. Nothing about the way I feel is your fault. I just get sad sometimes yknow?"

"I know bonnie. Just wish you didn't have tae deal with it at all. Shouldn't have to have any thoughts in that pretty head if you don't want 'em."

You giggle. "I love you Johnny. That's always gonna be true, no matter what. Regardless of how sad I am, I'll always be yours and you'll always be mine."

"Always, my beauty. My love for you is infinite. Never ending."

“Promise?” you whisper. 

“Swear to ye baby. Let's get you feeling better, hmm? Turn on one of your shows and I'll go make some soup for you, hen,” he says, standing up.

“Does that mean we can watch gossip girl?” You ask shyly

“‘Course we can. Go ahead and put it on. I'll be back in a minute darling. Actually, do me just one favor, bon”

Cocking your head to the side you ask, “What's that Johnny?”

A smile cracks on his face, “Go grab us some blankets and stuffies from the bedroom, eh? Don't want your cold little toes touching me while I'm trying to watch the show”

“I do not have cold toes Johnny MacTavish! It's not my fault you're a human furnace,” you scoff at him. 

He just looks over at you and chuckles again. “I know bonnie, I love yer cold feet,” He lets out a full belly laugh as he catches one of the throw pillows you chucked at his head. “Just fucking with ye sweet boy. But please, can you bring some extra blankets? And pillows too? If you're up for it, I'll make you a pillow fort to watch our show in. 

Your eyes light up at the prospect of a pillow fort. Thinking about one of the last times you had made one, you realize that you hadn't since you were a child. With a nod, you head to your shared bedroom picking out your favorite pillows and blankets, along with your favorite stuffies. 

Johnny raises his eyebrows when he sees everything you're bringing to the living room, already seeing himself in the future having to lug everything back to the bedroom himself because you'll be too tired to do it yourself. 

“Don't look at me like that Johnny,” you pout. “I needed all of them so the vibes could be perfect! You can't have a pillow fort without a minimum of 4 blankets, that's like basic pillow fort knowledge.” 

“You're right, dove, how silly of me to forget that. Get yourself warmed up on the couch and I'll finish up the food. I'll be with you in just a minute, handsome.”

With a blush dusting your cheeks, you nod and let out a hum of contentment. You head toward the couch, getting yourself settled in and wrapping yourself and your favorite stuffie up in a blanket. Your smile to yourself thinking about how well Johnny takes care of you. You don’t even have to ask him to care for you. He can always just sense when something is wrong and he drops whatever he’s doing to be able to take care of you. It’s one of the things you love most about him. You’re so lost in thought, you jump a little when he plops down next to you on the couch.

“You okay there, tiger?” He asks while running his hands through your hair.

“Was just thinking about you. ‘Bout how you take care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you, bonnie. That’s my job. You know that. It’s the greatest privilege I’ve been given aside from the pleasure of being your boyfriend.”

“You’re too sweet to me Johnny. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

He cups your cheek in his hand, “You’ll never have to figure that out, dove. Why don’t you tell me about what made you so upset?

“I just got stressed at work one day. Then I came home and decided to rest a bit. I ended up falling asleep and slept through the night, but then I just couldn’t get back into my routine. I couldn’t eat, could barely take care of myself, really. I would just wake up, go to work, come back home and go to bed. Today was just an absolute shit show at work and it just sent me over the edge. I obviously felt terrible, but I mean, I guess it was a little bit better than just feeling nothing at all.” You sigh as you sit back against the couch, feeling like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. 

Johnny sighs as he just wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest. “I know it’s hard to understand this, but yer never a burden tae me, sweet boy. Like I said it’s my job to take care of you. Even when I’m not here, I want you to know that I’m always here for you. Whether you need to scream, cry, be distracted, or even just sit in silence, I will always be here when you need it. And when I’m away I’ll do everything I can tae make sure I’m checking up on my lovely boy because he deserves the best and that’s exactly what I’m gonnae do.”

“Thank you Johnny. I just feel like my issues are nowhere near as important as the things you deal with at work. I feel bad taking up your time on something so silly when there’s much bigger issues you have to solve.”

“Bonnie you dinnae fash yerself about my job. You’ve got your own tae worry about. I can manage my job and taking care of you just fine. You’re never a burden on me, sweet boy.”

“Thank you Johnny. Thank you for taking care of me and getting me out of my own head,” you say manhandling him into the perfect position so that you could wrap your arms around his waist and lie your head on his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat keeping you grounded. 

“What else are boyfriends for, eh? Tonight’s gonnae be all about you, lovely. Let’s eat and watch some of that silly show you’re obsessed with and then we’ll get you a nice warm bath and tuck you into bed, yeah?”

“That sounds great, Johnny. I love you so, so much,” you say as he pulls you into his side and wraps another blanket around the two of you. You feel him kiss the crown of your head while he runs his hands up and down your back comfortingly. The day was bad, but the night would be so much better. Everything is better when Johnny’s home.

Ex-Boyfriend Soap

warnings: p in v sex, afab reader, toxic! soap, mild dubcon (reader is under the influence) a/n: god i love soap i want him so bad neil ellice gimme one chance plssss my brain has rotted down to the stem thinking about him :p MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

Ex-boyfriend Soap would casually check your Instagram at least twice a week to see if you were still dating the new guy that you left him for. You put up a front on your social media posting yourself on dates at fancy places that Johnny knows were entirely too uppity for your taste. This “boyfriend” of yours was a joke in Johnny’s eyes, but he was just going to watch from afar he wasn't a homewrecker of course. He did his weekly scroll during breakfast one morning and noticed there were a handful of pictures suddenly missing from your page. All the pictures missing were pictures of you and the now ex-boyfriend. He smirked at this and decided to send a short DM just to check up on you. It wouldn’t be too weird anyway the relationship didn’t end that badly and you both text each other a few times a year to stay cordial.

The DM was enough to coax you over to Johnny’s home. You cried while sipping on your favorite wine (he remembered what a gentleman) and Johnny sat there patiently just listening to you rehash the negatives of the relationship and how you regret not seeing the warning signs from earlier before the scumbag cheated on you. He inched closer to you on the couch and gingerly wiped away a stray tear that rolled down the apple of your cheek. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes at the sensation. “You’re too pretty to cry, Hen you deserve better.” You nodded at his words, your mind foggy from the alcohol. His hands caressed your cheek once more and he gradually slid it down till his thumb was pressing against your bottom lip. Your eyes opened and met with his gaze that was filled with mischief. “Just gimme one more chance, Bonnie, you won’t regret it.” His thumb pushed further until it was prodding your tongue to open your mouth further. You nodded at his words agreeing to his proposition not breaking the intense eye contact happening between you two. “I need to hear words or I’m not continuing.” “Yes, I want this. I want you!” Your words were slurred and drool was starting to drip from the corner of your mouth. “That’s what I like to hear hen.”

He was ruthless with the way he pounded into your soaked cunt. Your body was taken over with white-hot pleasure and the amount of orgasms you’ve experienced. Your brain was mush and Johnny was reveling in it. “I love seeing you cock drunk just for me love. Only I could get you this stupid. I bet that muppet of a boyfriend never made you feel this good. All you could let out was a weak ‘mhm’. You bucked up your hips to meet his and feeling him so deep had you cumming so intensely. Johnny only needed a few more strokes till he was spilling his cum into your cunt. His grunts had your walls still fluttering after your orgasm. 

“Don’t ever forget you're mine Bonnie. I’ll always be here for you.” He wrapped himself around you and you sunk into his embrace.

I DO I WANNA READ THST

I'm writing this under the assumption that folks have a basic understanding of order 66 but if not... I'll happily ramble!

anyway. pilot!johnny x jedi!reader (also I started this fully with the intention of writing smut but... didn't happen whoops)

~✧

it's a deal made in the heat of the moment. one minute you're tracking a potential separatist leader, the next you are running as hard and fast as you can. whirling your lightsaber as your men, your friends, shoot at you. calling you a traitor, your commander - a man you had shared a drink with not a week prior - shouting orders to shoot to kill.

you blinked hard, clearing the misting in your eyes so you could get as far away as possible.

"Oi, lass!" an accented voice called from your left, through the brush, but you couldn't stop.

"If it's important, run and talk!!" you yelled back, deflecting a shot going in the direction of the voice. you heard a yelp, before much closer footsteps matched your frantic pace.

"So why're they shootin' at ye? Look like a jedi with the lightsaber and all but... they're clones, they shouldnae be shooting at you." the stranger turned and shot over his shoulder, and you tried not to wince as the sound of a body hitting the ground reached you. they were your men, good soldiers and good men.

"I dont... I don't know. my commander he, he got a transmission and suddenly they were trying to kill me!" another shot deflected, another body. "I have no idea what's happening."

out the corner of you eye you saw him nod before he grabbed your hand and tugged.

"this way!" you pulled back, but he didn't let go of your hand. "hen, if ye have more men on yer ship, what makes ye ken they will nae try kill you too? just come with me, I have a ship." you weighed the options. a stranger who is offering you a ship, shooting at your soldiers, former battalion. or the clones you once called friends who were trying to kill you.

"fine." you let him guide you, further into the woodland where the brush grew thicker. he seemed to know where to step, what turns to take, and the sounds of heavy footsteps making chase and blaster fire grew quieter. not enough to stop running - force knew that you couldn't stop until you were at least off this planet, and even then... - but enough that you could lower your lit saber and follow the man who had yet to let go of your hand.

to call what you broke through into a clearing would be an insult to clearings; it looked like this pilot had lowered his ship onto what he perceived to be the weakest trees. and maybe he was right, considering how they had bent and snapped under the small ship.

you didn't stop running until you collapsed onto the deck of the ship, bay door sealing shut behind you.

the hull of the ship was small, a small sunken area you could vault out of and take two paces into the cockpit. the area you could see was mostly clean, but it was clear he occupied this ship alone.

"where to, jedi?" the stranger was not looking at you as he began to take off, the hiss of air as the landing gear retracted and the engines kicked on.

"I-" you cut yourself off as the small ship flew over the landing craft you had been in just that morning. a quiet beeping sound caught your attention and you shuffled around in your pockets and pulled out a secured comlink. a recording of General Kenobi appeared, warning all jedi to stay away from Coruscant.

"I have nowhere to go. if I can't go back to Coruscant, I... that's the only home I've known for a very long time." you dropped into the copilot seat as you realised that the life you had before was simply, gone.

you flinched as a warm, gloved hand lightly touched your arm.

"well first things first, let's get you some clothes. yer whole outfit screams 'jedi' and we cannae have that, can we?"

"no. I suppose not." the ship jolted as it took off into hyperspace, a destination clearly in mind for this stranger. "thank you, by the way. I would be dead without you..." you trailed off, both realising you don't know his name, and because the weight of everything had you defeated.

"Johnny. name's johnny." you reply with your own name and shake his outstretched hand before turning to look back at the racing blue outside. "dinnae worry, hen. things will get better."

~✧

hahahahshaha apparently this ended up being a rough draft for the first chapter for a star wars au whoops!!

Thinking about Knight! John Price who’s a right hooligan in his teens when he joins the army to look cool. Quickly getting knocked on his ass in the middle of the blood stained battle field, getting traumatized and getting the title ‘General’ way too young after his whole squad gets wiped out infront of his eyes but he somehow lives. 

He gets his own squad that he trained thoroughly, and they have their own little situation going on since they got close after winning battles….

‘Task Force’ leading the last war and winning…. Then getting their life tipped upside down because they were all ‘retired’ now. All of them filing into the manor John got as a present from the King for his service since they didn’t really have a place to go back ‘home’ too. Its tense and weird and Gaz still trains some recruits and Johnny helps forge weapons but everyones still restless…  Until the King gives them another gift, a spouse. 

..... does anyone want me to continue my thoughts 👀👀

Poly 141 x Reader

Home is where you are

"What ye think she made this time?"

Johnny mumbles, dropping his head back against the seat behind him. Blinking tiredly up at the ceiling of the truck, a daydream clear in his eyes. Simon next to him stares out the window, sweat seems to practically seal his balaclava to his face.

"We'd be lucky if anything. It's three in the fucking morning.."

Kyle says from the passenger seat. Pursing his lips a bit.

"She should be sleeping.."

Price chuckles from the driver's seat, hand on the steering wheel, paying close attention to the road.

"She knows we're on our way home. If she made something. We'll be thankful."

His other hand is resting on Kyle's knee, his thumb rubs slow circles against him.

Simons foot taps on the floor of the car silently, brows tight together. The man just wants to go home, shower, eat whatever heaven you cooked and sink into that california king mattress. With all of you, all five of you together.

"Steaks."

He mutters.

"Hm?"

Johnny questions with a hum, Simon clarifies.

"On days we come home.. it's either steak or shepherds pie. She made shepherds pie last time so it's gonna be steak."

They all salivate at the damn thought.

"It's tha little things with ye huh Simon?"

Johnny smiles warmly, leaning on his shoulder.

It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are. Filing out of the truck, bags over their shoulders. Covered in grime and dried blood, they didn't even let themselves clean up at base before going home to you. Walking forward, Simon slings an arm around Kyle's shoulder. Tucking the sargeant into his side as they walk to the house. Both Johns walking behind them, Price giving the younger a good slap on the back.

"Home, boys. Let's enjoy it while we can."

Price comes forward to unlock the front door, pushing it open for the four of them. Mumbling out a reminder to take off their shoes inside. Leaning down with a grunt to pull off his boots. The others doing the same. They can already smell what you're cooking, Simon was right. The smell of steaks is pretty clear, garlic butter, some kind of steamed vegetables and spices.

The house is clean. Warm. Low lighting, some candles lit. Everything about it screams home. John opens his mouth to call out for you, but he can feel his spine practically melt hearing you hum in the kitchen.

Johnny is the first stumbling forward, hopping on one leg as he throws off his remaining shoe. Eager to get back to you. Grinning as he comes around the corner into the kitchen. He melts. Seeing you there, in your chair dishing up their plates of dinner.

".. Hey lass.."

He mumbles, feeling like all the air left his chest.

You turn your head when you hear him, the brightest smile spreads across your face. Tossing the fork down from your hand as you turn towards him.

"Hey soldier-"

You beam. You don't even get another word in before Johnny rushes towards you, you let out a puff of air as he crashes into you. Laughing against him as he squeezes you to his chest, his face buried in your hair.

"Fuckin' missed ye hen.."

He whispers. You return with one of your own.

"I know baby.. I missed you too.."

You lift your head, kissing the scar on his chin.

"This bloke botherin' you love?"

You already know that voice immediately, smiling as you turn to look at Kyle. Who is quick at your side with Johnny, his hand cups the back of your head. Pressing a long kiss to your cheek. Taking a deep inhale of your scent through his nose. You smile warmly, your hand finds his bicep, giving a soft squeeze.

"There you are Kyle.."

You murmur, turning your head to press your own kisses across the bridge of his nose.

"Always here."

He chirps, kissing on your skin. His eyes bore into you, drinking you up. Johnny huffs, mumbling something about stealing all your attention. Earning a small tug on his mowhawk from you.

"Alright you two- showers. The both of you. You need it-"

You chuckle, giving them both a hug. Giving Johnny one more kiss on the jaw. Letting Gaz get one more kiss on your face. Watching them head past you down the hall to the bathroom. Kissing on eachother, bumping into walls. You shake your head at them with a smile.

Eyes flicking back to the entrance. You find Simon staring at you, his shoulders slack and sinking. Eyes half lidded and tired. The rest of his face under the balaclava. Your eyes soften, holding out your hand to him.

"Oh Si.."

He takes the invitation. Coming over to you. He would tower over you in height. But instead he falls to one knee in front of your chair. Hands resting on the arm rests of your chair. Your hands immediately cradle his head. Leaning forward to press your head to his.

"You're home.. it's alright now .. no more Lieutenant.."

You whisper against him. Your fingertips lift the edge of the balaclava, pulling it over the nape of his neck. Over the back of his head, nails dragging soothingly up his scalp as you take the fabric away. Making him shiver in vulnerability. Putting his mask aside on the counter.

Seeing your Simons face eases the both of you, cupping his jaw and lifting his head.

"I know doll.. I know."

He mutters, you kiss his temple. Caressing his skin. Threading your fingers into his hair.

"Go shower with the boys sweetheart.. I'll be in there soon."

You coo at him. He chuckles deeply, kissing your head between your brows as he gets up. Bumping your foreheads together one more time before walking to the bathroom.

"You're not gonna say hello to me John?"

You joke, turning your head to watch said Captain. Who was holding his hat in hand, leaning against the wall watching you. He's been watching you the whole time.

"Just seein' you with our boys darlin'.."

Pushing away from the wall he walks over to you. His eyes full of exhaustion, longing, warmth. Tossing his hat on the counter behind you. He leans down, callous hands hold your cheeks. Bringing your lips to his.

He's not as sneaky as he thinks. You know of his little demand to the boys. He's the first to kiss you. Each time they come home.

You kiss him back feverishly, as much as you've been calm and steady for them. You missed your men like hell. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, beginning to work on the knots of tension in them. Emitting a deep groan from John into your mouth. You smile against his lips, feeling the scratch off his beard.

"Everyone's alright?"

You whisper against him. He nods, his hands finding your hips. Slightly lifting you from your chair and towards himself.

"No one's broken. .. Kyle's a little stressed. Y'know how he is.."

You nod, eyes still closed, continuing to brush your lips together.

"And you?"

"Just tired.. But I'm home. That's what matters."

John mumbles, kissing you deep again. Dipping his tongue past your lips, a soft sigh slipping out of you. Arms pulling him closer.

"Taking good care of our boys John.. You always do.. Making sure you all come home to me again... Our strong Captain.."

You can feel him sinking at your praise. The older mans knees want to buckle at your voice.

"Let's get you in the shower baby.. Hm? Get you washed and relaxed.."

You mumble against him.

You yelp as your lifted into the air by his arms, laughing openly as he carries you like a bride. Burying his nose to the crook of your neck. Carrying you down the hall, to the bathroom door. Where you can already hear the chatter of the men in the shower waiting for the two of you. John is grumbling against your skin.

"We need you darlin'. "

"Our boys and I need you bad.."

The 141 and their massage therapist...

Yeah so I have horrible carpal tunnel and this....yeah just HEAR ME OUT

!!!DUB CON!!!

The 141 take their training pretty seriously. However, their line of military work is no stranger to service related injuries. Back pain, ankle sprains, muscle cramps - you name it and the 141 has had it. And that is where you come in: the cheap, young, and inexperienced massage therapist charged with taking care of them. You're fresh out of school and still working to get your footing, but you'll be damned if you don't take care of these veterans to the best of your ability.

Though, as life would have it, you take care of a lot more than just the occasional crick in the neck.

-

Price is older than you. That, and very obviously used to being in control. His rank and reputation give him away. Even at your first meeting, you feel silently infatuated with his stature. He's kind and charming, used to cracking jokes, but also used to things going his way. He's confident and mature - something you're very much lacking.

And from the moment you first shake his hand, one thing becomes very, very obvious: his attraction to you is completely unashamed.

Sprawled out on your table with just a towel covering his bulging cock, meaty hands swiping over the hair on his chest while he waits for you to get the oils ready.

"Ready whenever you are, darling."

And the whole time, you can't help but shiver in flustered admiration at his big biceps and chest, hands nearly shaking with trepidation at the beautiful, tempting mass of man beneath you.

And like the shameless man that he is, he absorbs every single second of it. He flexes his arms in your grip, just to watch the way heat rushes to your cheeks. He purposefully edges the towel down a bit lower, just so that you'll bite your lip when the tip of his cock just barely peeks over the top of it.

He's not ashamed to be exposed to you. Hell, he likes it. Likes watching the way you fawn over his bare arms and built legs, likes watching you try to hide the way you bite your lip every time you pour a bit more oil over his skin.

He's always polite and kind.

"Little bit more to the left, darling?"

He always says please and thank you.

And yet, he can't help but tease you with the promise of his naked body, brush his arm against you when he readjusts his position on the table. And when he gets redressed and walks you back to the front desk after each appointment, his hand never fails to rest on your lower back, guiding you along with him, letting you bask in his scent and touch.

And one day, as you're massaging his arm, he sees you crossing your legs like it'll give you even an ounce friction between your thighs. You can't hide the obvious heat in your eyes when he reaches over the edge of the table and ever so slightly brushes over the back of your thigh, reaching up to trace the pretty little your panties make underneath your trousers.

"Sweetheart," he drawls, feeling the way your hand clenches around his skin the harder he traces the panty lines down in between your legs, "Think it's about time I took care of you instead now, yeah?"

Needless to say, it's the first time you've ever been laid out on your own massage table. Though, judging by the way John leaves a trail of hickeys from your waist to neck, you'll soon be doing it again.

-

If Gaz is anything, he's an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you of the boys you met in college. Y'know, the kind of guys you were partnered up with for group discussions? Smiley, sweet, almost idyllic. Idly, you admit you found them cute for a fleeting moment. Perhaps you imagined for a couple seconds what it might be like to go on a date with them. Usually, it stopped there.

But Gaz...

With his lean, hard-earned muscles and spotless skin, he looked like the star in all of your college boyfriend fantasies - with the D1 physique to go with it.

He's talkative and has no shortage of funny jokes. The two of you become fast friends.

Only, it's really hard to concentrate on conversation when your hands get to run over each and every inch of his covetable body. His defined hipbones, veiny forearms, and muscled calves. You find yourself drifting into thought as your hands run from his neck to his shoulder, all the way down to his pristine fingertips.

You're nearly salivating as you watch the way his biceps bend and curve underneath your hands.

"Love," he suddenly shocks you out of your reverie, "Did you hear what I said?"

"Uh--no," you admit, hurriedly pulling your eyes away from where the dimples of his back disappear beneath the towel and onto the boring, beige walls, "Sorry, it's just been a long day."

"No worries," he chuckles, that same, friendly smile on his face.

Only, when he turns to lay his face back onto the table with a roll of his perfect shoulders, you swear you hear a muffled "looked like something caught your eye for a second there..."

And like that, the two of you continue on. Him, making joke after joke - getting more and more suggestive as the days go on.

One day, after a particularly rough work out, you manage to wrangle him on the table. His sore legs scream for help with every massaging touch.

"Fuck," he curses, legs shaking in your hand, "Can you go a bit easier, love? Think I'm liable to pass out at this rate."

You chuckle, pressing into the spot harder, "Trust me, you'll feel better after this."

"I dunno," he grunts, biting his cheek, "Look, it usually means that something feels good when my legs start shaking. But this is just--fuck--"

His words are cut off by a wince, but they stick in your mind nonetheless. A notable runner-up comes a week later. You'd twisted your ankle at the gym just an hour before Kyle's appointment. Your foot had been so sore you'd had a hard time standing straight.

"You okay? Need some Tylenol or something?" he'd commented, worried.

"It's nothing, just twisted it," you'd brushed him off with a smile, "I'll take care of it when I get home."

"You sure?" he'd laughed, looking down at your ankle, "It looks like it hurts. Might just have to trade places with you today, get you on the table instead."

You'd laughed along and made some snide joke about him trying to get out of another painful session. And yet, you can't deny that his voice had lingered in your head long after he'd left the room that day.

It all comes to a head one week when you misjudge the time of your appointment with Kyle and accidentally walk in five minutes early...

...Only to see him with his jeans halfway down the hips you'd been massaging not two days earlier, a big, covered bulge front and center of his unzipped fly. And from the minute you walk in, you swear you can feel the heat building between the two of you. And when that friendly smile drops, you know one thing for sure now: Gaz had never wanted to settle for "just friends" to begin with.

When he gently reaches for your wrist to pull you into the room, bending you over the massage table this time, it's safe to say his strong hands, beautiful body, and hard cock put all of your fantasies to shame. That, and he's decidedly unfriendly when he steals your phone out of your purse, wordlessly entering his phone number while you're still sexed out and dazed on top of the massage table.

-

Ghost, however, is not friendly. Not friendly in the slightest.

Your first meeting - if it could even be counted as one - consisted of about two words and about ten awkward grunts from the masked man. When you handed him the consent forms, your hands felt like they were dripping with sweat. And when he ended up on your table a week later, you almost felt like you were being held at gunpoint when you uncorked the bottle of oil.

He was silent the entire time. Well, for the most part. His only interactions with you consisted of low, breathy sighs as you worked through a knot. Or a small, wordless grunts when you found a spot that he liked. If he found your hands slowing in their ministrations, your eyes lingering on where his scarred pelvis disappeared beneath the towel, he'd snap you back to attention with a single command.

"Love," he'd growl, muscles tensing dangerously underneath your hands, "This is your job, innit? So do it then."

And even if you still harbored the smallest bit of wariness about the guy, you had to admit:

Ghost was big. Like, really, really big.

His feet nearly dangled off of your table with how tall he was. He had to fold his arms underneath his head because his shoulders were too broad to fit on the cushions. You can't even fit your fingers around one half of his massive arm. And his hands - god, his hands. They looked almost twice the size of your own. Some small, timid part of you muses, "if he started swinging, he'd take me out with one hit."

But the other, more prominent side of you thinks...

He would have no problem pinning you underneath him, popping the buttons on your shirt, spreading your legs. He could pick you up, push you against the wall, and take what he wanted - fuck you hard enough that your coworkers could hear it through the drywall.

And then all those breathy groans he tried so hard to muffle in the crook of his elbow would be well and truly yours.

And with those thoughts coursing through your mind...really, it isn't a surprise when he finds your eyes lingering on where the towel covers his half-hard cock. After so many appointments watching you try to hide your obvious attraction to him, he found you looking at his crotch a lot these days.

And when you begin massaging his abs, running your hands down from his plush pectorals to the beginning of the v-line on his pelvis, he doesn't miss the way your hands twitch against his hipbone. Like this, leaned over him, you can barely see the tip of his cock pressed up against his belly button, drops of precum gathering in the hair there.

So lost in your own trance, you don't even register that your hands have stopped moving until he emits an amused scoff. And when his calloused hand pushes yours away, using the tip of his finger to fold the towel back just enough to expose his leaking cock to your eager eyes, you can't even begin to deny the way your blood boils in your veins.

"You're staring," he tells you lowly, watching how you bite your lips at every twitch of his dick.

"M'sorry," your stunted voice replies, "It's just that you're so...big."

"Mm," he hums, reaching down to give himself a teasing tug; the oil lubes him up nicely, "Big in the ways that count."

You don't reply, you only watch him touch himself with rapt attention, practically drooling.

"You wanna touch me here too?" he teases, getting off on the clueless flush you wear, "It's your job, innit? So do it, slag."

As a massage therapist, you took pride in taking away your patients' pain. Sprains, aches, limps - they all cowered before you. And yet, when you leave your own office with a limp in your step and a ten digit phone number scrawled on the back of your hand, you can do nothing more than smile.

It's safe to say your clothes are well and truly ruined by the time you make it home. And it wasn't from the massage oil.

-

Soap is...well, he's just as bombastic as he is in the field on your table.

In the beginning, he was a bit awkward. He flinched and shocked every time you hit a sore spot, a red flush high on his cheeks. For the first few appointments, he can barely field a conversation with you. And even when he gets over his stunted silence, he can hardly keep the stutter out of his voice. For his sake, you try not to laugh anytime he makes an awkward comment.

However, Johnny has always been a firecracker. He throws himself into each and every challenge without a second thought. And while it's paid off nicely in his professional life, it hasn't always been kind on his body.

As the weeks go on, he shows up on your table more often than anyone else. He even manages to nag you into a few private sessions just to ease his aching back after particularly grueling workouts.

"C'mon, bonnie," you hear his familiar whine over the phone, "Gimme twenty minutes. Just twenty. I dinnae mean to whinge, but the Cap'n's cross today. Had me running laps 'til I keeled over. M'legs feel like toothpicks."

And more often than not, you give in to his demands.

While Johnny sometimes eats away at your personal time, you can't help but take a liking to him. After all, his sunny personality and witty turn of phrase would keep anyone entertained. It's just...his brawny body doesn't fail to be the star of every single wet dream you could ever conjure. His thighs are massive and strong, and his chest looks so muscled and soft you can't help but dream of laying against them.

And it certainly doesn't help that his sore body oftentimes makes him the most vocal out of all four of them. That, and his entire body seems to come alight underneath your fingertips with every bruising touch.

"Oh, fuck," his hand shoots out suddenly to grab you around the wrist, pressing you harder into where you're massaging his hip, "Just like that, bonnie. Fuck, you're so good at that..."

And as the weeks go on, you can't help but work harder and harder, relishing in every groan and praise that drops from his lips.

"God, you're perfect," he tells you one night as you massage his thigh.

"Can you--can you go just a bit lower? It's just...my hip's fucked. Can't even walk straight," he chuckles with another week, his pale face deepening into a sheepish, red blush. Looking away from your face, he edges down the towel to expose his sore hip. The next groan he lets out is stifled, his arm thrown over his face - as if the two of you still had even a shred of decency left between each other.

And now that you've solidified your friendship, he's not as awkward anymore. Yes, he still flushes when you first walk in, his nude body on display. But the minute you begin to work into his tense muscles, it all washes away.

Only, during one session, you begin to notice how your hands have a different effect on him than you'd ever seen before.

You're massaging his hip again, pressing into it with nearly your full weight. After a week of hard work, Johnny's beyond decorum, biting into his lip as he tries to stifle loud, relieved moans with each and every knead.

And when you hit one sweet spot in particular, you don't miss a twitch beneath the towel.

"Right there," he tells you breathlessly, "That's - that's where it hurts."

And just like he tells you, you press into it again. And with every move, you watch him get harder and harder beneath the cover, the muscles in his legs tensing while you work through the knot. The towel skews to the side, and even as his aching, red cock is exposed to the air, he hardly takes notice - too caught up in your touch to think straight.

"God, bonnie," he grunts roughly, jerking beneath you hands, "Fuck--"

And to your (pleasant) surprise, the next move finds more than just oil lubing up your palms.

He cums with a grunt, untouched, naked beneath your eyes. And you watch as his ejaculate paints up and over his slick abs, his entire stomach clenching while he rides out the pleasure.

At the very least, he has the sense to be embarrassed about it. For a good moment, he can do nothing more than sit there panting, his arm over his eye while he hurriedly pulls the towel back up.

"I'm - God, I'm sorry, bonnie. I swear I didn't mean to," he blurts out, uncovering his eyes to send you a look of desperate sincerity.

However, when he sees you staring down at his slick, semen covered stomach, an undeniable heat in your eyes...

Well, the shame flees to the back of his mind. Without even trying, he's hard underneath the towel within minutes. And at your lack of a reply, he can't help but cut into your personal time just one more time.

"Bonnie..." he asks, trying to hide the eager look in his eye, "Think we could go another twenty minutes? I promise I'll make it worth your while."

-

HM YEP OKAY WOW CAN YOU TELL THESE GET LONGER AND LONGER THE MORE I THINK ABOUT THEM lkjaljdsflkafj

anyway ;-; this is me venting after a very long week at school. Hope you guys enjoyed ❤️

Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust

Okay so... I was making up scenarios in my head as I was falling asleep last night and I made myself cry ... so I obviously had to share...

Poly141; the four men are your husbands and all deployed at the same time, leaving you home with your three kids at the beginning of the school holidays.

This turned out longer than I thought it would but I just had to write it out. I love Poly141 AND them being dads :')

Da = Johnny

Papa = John P.

Dad= Simon

Daddy = Kyle

School holidays had just started, and your three pups were buzzing as soon as they came home. Bags were thrown on the floor, school shoes unlaced and scattered around the shoe stand. They knew the rules, but first day of school holidays meant they were allowed to get a little wild.

Your oldest, Paesha, had just turned eight and her father was obvious. Thick curls, dark skin and warm brown eyes made it plain to see. But all your husbands loved her the same. In fact, she had a special bond with her Da (Johnny).

Malachai, your second, could have been any of the three other men's. Light brown hair, fair complection, and utterly/overly protective of his sisters. He had been born a year after Pae.

And your youngest, Felicity (known as Flick), had started her first year in big school. She was known for having exceptional blue eyes.

None of your husbands wanted a DNA test, they thought it useless because everyone treats the children with the same love, compassion and warmth.

Throwing your keys on the counter (Paesha picked them up and placed them on the hook). You rubbed the bridge of your nose and tried to quell the longing in your soul. You didn't know if it was worse when the kids were gone or with you. Being completely alone let the terrible thoughts attack but you didn't want your kids to miss out on having their fathers'.

Calming the oncoming tears, you turned around and asked, "who wants pizza for dinner?"

"YES!" Yelled Mal, a fist punched in the air. Paesha nodded her head enthusiastically while Flick did a little happy dance.

Paesha halted and squinted at you, "Not homemade right?"

After dinner arrived, the four of you sat on the large dark green couch. Your two ex-military dogs, Moth and Teddy, sat on either end of the lounge.

Turning onto the streaming service, you found the exact movie you were looking for. The 2003 version of Peter Pan.

With the lights off (except for the kitchen, the kids were still scared of too much darkness), you watched as one of your cats jumped into Pae's lap. Barnaby started purring instantly. His fluffy white tail settled around his body.

The seven of you settled in. Your four human babies snuggled up to their mama, smiles already on their faces.

When the movie had finished, your kids still wouldn't go to bed.

"Oh wait, I know why it isn't working - we don't have the pixie dust!" Flick pulled on your sleeve with a huge gap-toothed smile.

You had been watching as they jumped around the room. Lights flicked on, bodies flinging from one couch to another.

"I know! But ... we don't have any in the house..." You grumbled.

Paesha was staring dreamily at Peter Pan, a cheek resting against her face. "Where do we get some?" Her head turned slightly to look at you, her eyes nearly heart-shaped.

"Ugh-" god trying to keep childlike wonder alive was bloody difficult. Like a sign from the Universe, your phone started to ring.

All three kids ran over to it, knowing exactly who was calling at this time of night. Swiping the screen, four familiar faces popped up.

"Da! Papa! Dad! Daddy!" Smiling through the screen, the men had been just as eager to see their kids as their kids were to see them.

"Hello little munchkins, ya been good for mum?" Simon greeted first. His mask was off and no black could be found around his eyes. He never showed that side to the children.

"We're going to fly!" Flick chirped, her arms outstretched and running around.

"You're - what?" Price said with a slightly panicked face.

"But we need pixie dust," Malachai explained. Shaking his head like this was obvious information.

"I introduced them to the ... live action Peter Pan," you explained and a smile of regret grew on your tired face.

"Oh honey," Kyle replied, understanding the situation. He was the first of the men to.

"But we don't have any and we have to go buy more!" Pae said while leaning against you.

"Eh, pixie dust ...?" you heard Johnny mumble in the background.

"Oh! I have an idea!" You said with a faked expression, "why don't the Dada's get us the pixie dust!"

The chorus of cheers was heard throughout the house. Alerting the the tired Moth and Teddy.

Kyle shook his head. And Price's nose flared. Mum: 1 - Dads: 0.

"We'll bring back the goddamns finest," Simon said. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"See! You heard Dad! Now get your butts' upstairs and in bed."

"Yes ma'am!" They said in unison (a nickname they'd heard their father's use one too many times.)

Once the kids were upstairs, your face dropped.

"I miss you guys," you whispered into the phone. The tears welling and spilling down your cheeks.

"We miss you too," John said, his words strangled with his feelings.

It was always hard to hang up.

It hurt.

But tonight's farewell felt like the hardest. You could just imagine how the scenario would've played out if their father's were there with them. With you.

'Can't always get what we want,' you thought bitterly.

"Not long now," Kyle said. You stared at his eyes and then his lips. God how much you wanted to kiss him.

"You better make sure you bring back some fucking pixie dust or there'll be a riot."

"Aye, Laswell definitely knows someone-" Johnny replied, giving you a wink. "Miss you gorgeous." He always tried to uplift the mood. And it nearly always worked.

You fought out of your misery, knowing the four soldiers couldn't bear to see you upset. And as they said their goodbyes, you said so in return.

"We love you, our precious wife. We'll all be together soon."

Imagine watching from the baby cam your husband putting the baby to bed and all of the sudden they drop to the ground and army crawl their way out of the room before the baby makes eye contact them. You're still laughing by the time they come to the room.

🧍‍♀️

soap pick up line where reader goes up to him and says

“do you like magic? because ive got a rabbit and a wand we can use”

risky, so very risky

06 / 396 words

Soap peers at you, frowning over his pint glass. "What's a rabbit got to do with magic?"

Your teasing smile falls into a look of disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Is this a joke or are you trying to waste my time again?"

"The rabbit from a hat trick?" You grope for the right words to explain. You didn't think there would be cultural context required for this pick-up line. "It's like the stock stage magician trick. How do you not know what that is?"

Soap scoffs, swirling his beer and turning his barstool so that he's leaning back on the bar and facing the other patrons. "You're takin' the piss. Rabbits don't fit in hats."

"That's why it's a trick. My God. Are there no street magicians in Glasgow? No silly magic shows?"

Soap takes a swig of his beer, looking amused by your reaction. "Wouldnae know if there were. Got better things to do than pay money to watch some dunce dressin' up rabbits."

"Unbelievable. Who do you hire for birthday party, then? Don't say clowns. No kid wants a clown."

"Dunno. Do people actually still hire out for that? Thought they'd moved on to high-tech shite. Video games." He cracks a grin and leans back with his elbows on the bar behind him. "Clown doesn't sound so bad. Maybe we hire you for a gig like tha'?" 

"Hilarious."

He shrugs. "Suppose you could hire one of those fortune-teller types who can read your palm and talk to animals."

"What? That sounds fake."

"Right, so you're saying rabbits do fit in hats?"

"That's not what I mean and you know it. They don't do parties."

"Aye, I swear they do. I thought about gettin' certified myself before joinin' the military. Make some extra cash. Thought I might like to be a cat whisperer."

You feel yourself make a face. "Why?"

"You really wanna know, hen?" He takes another sup of beer, but now there's a wide smirk on his lips. "You sure?"

"Why are you saying it like that?" You pause for a beat. "Why cats?"

"Same reason you've got yourself a wand and a rabbit, hen." He leans in. "Cause I know exactly what a pussy needs."

What binds us // 2

John 'Soap' MacTavish / fem!Reader

Summary:   Returning home as soon as he is able, Soap can‘t help but hope that his wife will reconsider their divorce. 

Content:   civilian wife, lots of hurt/angst and some comfort, divorce (?), swearing, coming-home-from-deployment

Word Count:   2.6k

Part:   1/2/3 <- previous chapter next chapter ->

Notes: I finally got around to finishing the second chapter! Had to write this one in my phone notes, so please forgive any mistakes you might find. I felt so bad for him halfway through, but tried to stay strong. 💔 They also own a cat, everybody say hi to Salome - 🐈

True to his word, Price had arranged a flight home within 72 hours of his first message, and Soap didn‘t even bat an eye at the eye-watering extra fees for his checked luggage and business class upgrade. 

He‘d been all wired up since his wife had called him. He snapped and shouted at everyone except Lieutenant Ghost (he wasn‘t suicidal enough for that - yet) that came too close, asked stupid questions or even dared to simply breathe too loudly in his proximity. Soap felt himself unravel at the edges, one carefully placed stitch at a time.

Only the extensive therapy he‘d been dragged to over the years gave him enough of an outside perspective on the turmoil inside of himself to realize that all that molten hot anger was not directed at the useless driver, or the informant who didn‘t seem to be able shut the fuck up for a moment.

No. Soap knew that all the irritation and itch to hurt was directed at himself. That he‘d messed up badly this time, that it had been going on for months and he‘d been too focused on other things to see it. Or maybe he‘d just suppressed the sadness in his wife‘s voice, the silences and half-assed answers when he asked her about her day and immediately accepted her fine‘s and the usual‘s.

He had been such a colossal prick looking back, it was kind of astonishing that she‘d held out and waited for him as long as she had. Soap had scrolled back through their conversations, had listened to some of her older voice messages, read his own excuses for cancelling again and again.

And even though she‘d assured him that his training and the missions and his career was more important, he should have been better than that. Should have watched out for her, cared more - not lost himself in the work that ate away at his soul and mind when the cure for all his aches was waiting at home.

Soap rubbed over his eyes angrily as he stared out the plane window, long legs stretched far away from himself. The seat to his left was blissfully empty thanks to his second reservation under her name. The stewardess had given up on offering food, but steadily poured him another glass of Scotch when he pressed the little button on the menu screen.

His eyes felt dry and raw, and Soap wasn‘t ashamed to admit to himself that he‘d been on the verge of tears for three days now. His wife had tried calling him twice more since he‘d hung up, then texted him that he shouldn’t do anything stupid. 

Don‘t come home for this, John. I will always be here for you regardless. 

He brushed his thumb over the message, and was silently thankful for the forced airplane mode. The drinks in his system made his thoughts run even wilder, insecurities and fears that most army men carried in their hearts rising up in his throat.

Is there someone else? He wanted to type back. Is that why you don‘t want me to fix it?

But Soap knew she‘d never hurt him in such a way, that she truly thought they‘d be better off on their own. He would just have to prove her wrong.

Soap barely registered the landing, the extensive security screenings and double checking of his gun licenses, then military clearance. It was all standard procedure, he was able to answer their questions in his sleep. 

The only difference was that his wife wasn‘t there to greet him, wasn‘t standing ready with one of those airport luggage trolleys that always seemed to have at least one jammed wheel. The knowledge didn’t stop him from looking for her, traitorous heart beating fast and then dropping into his stomach at her absence. 

Glasgow wasn‘t very busy at this time of night, on a Tuesday no less, and the taxi driver was content to let the meter run when Soap asked him to wait outside the 24 hours supermarket. He picked up the disgusting stuffed olives she loved so much, briefly contemplating flowers before abandoning the thought. They‘d never been that kind of couple, and he didn‘t want to start putting on a mask when what he really needed to do was strip himself.

For the first time since they‘d bought their small house he was glad that she hadn‘t listened to him about completely replacing all the street facing windows with milk glass. Soap was able to see her clearly, sitting at the low sofa table with her legs tucked underneath herself and their fat ginger cat on her lap as she typed away at something. 

Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, face bare and pale in the glow of the laptop, and he oddly felt like he was intruding on a scene not meant for his eyes.

It took him a couple more moments to unglue his feet from the sidewalk, to push open the rusty door of the little path lined with colored pebbles that ended in their front door. He‘d been meaning to replace it, along with their postbox - when had that been? Two years ago now?

He fiddled with his keys, anxious. What did it say about him that he felt like a stranger standing outside his own home?

Shaking his head and dropping his heavy bags, he rung the doorbell instead.

There was a beat of silence, and Soap could just picture his wife raising her head away from the screen, how Salome had probably squeezed herself under the armchair, hissing. Neither one of the women in his life liked it when unannounced visitors came around.

Then the faint glow from the livingroom became brighter, he could see it through the colorful glass shards of the entrance door - how the dark shape of her moved closer. She hesitated on the other side. He wondered if he could take the blow of her not answering the door, or if his heart would shatter right here on their doorstep with the faint drizzle of rain dampening his curls.

But then she cracked the door open, her big eyes peering up at him for a moment. They stared at each other, and then she exhaled shakily, resting her forehead on the chipped wood. 

"You came," his wife whispered, and Soap ducked his head down to her level, shoulder against the frame as he fought hard not to beg her to open the door further and let him in.

"f'course I did," he rasped, shocked at the raw need in his voice. "Said I would, didn’t I?"

She blinked her eyes back open, and it seemed like she was holding back words heavy on her tongue. That was okay, he knew what she was thinking anyway: wouldn‘t have been the first time you said one thing and did another.

"But you were out on a mission."

There was no question, but he nodded anyway.

"I was."

"And then you left early."

"Yes, ma‘am." 

She snorted, then pulled open the door more firmly and stepped aside. Soap stumbled inside, immediately assaulted by warmth and the smell of her that permeated their home. It was dizzying and intoxicating and it made him want to curl up in a ball and weep.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, apparently unbothered that it was two in the morning and that he was dripping all over her nice new carpet in the entryway. 

"Starving," he breathed, then followed her like a lost puppy as she disappeared into the kitchen. 

Soap felt wrong-footed, clumsy and awkward as he wrung his hands and watched her reheat a plate of spaghetti.

His wife hugged herself around the middle, staring at the rotating dish in the microwave.

He wanted to tell her to be careful as she took it out with her bare hands instead of using the cute oven mitts she‘d gotten from her sister, but all he managed was a weak thanks as she put it down next to him on the kitchen island. 

They stood there, and she didn‘t meet his eyes anymore as Soap stared down at the crown of her head. They were close and yet there seemed to be a chasm, an ocean impossible to cross right between them. He might as well have been back in Afghanistan.

"Baby," he whispered, clutching the countertop so tightly that his knuckles turned white. She shook her head, then leaned away from him with yet another shaky exhale and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"Mo ghràidh," Soap tried again, undeterred. "Can I hug you?"

"I-" she started, voice thick. "I don‘t know if I want that."

"Okay," he agreed, heart stinging. "Will you keep standing with me just like this then?"

She nodded slowly, leaning against the counter next to him and staring at the floor. 

When he didn‘t move, too busy drinking her in, she nudged him softly in the side. 

"It‘ll go cold."

"I‘m not actually hungry."

"Oh." It was a faint sound, somewhere between exasperated and amused. "I see."

They stood like that for some time, the rain heavier now as it hit the windows in a steady rhythm. Soap almost jumped out of his skin when something warm and furry circled around his legs, purring.

"Fuckin‘ cat is lucky I‘m not carrying," he swore, nudging Salome with his boot in greeting. She purred even louder, rubbing her chin along his shins. 

His wife giggled, then scooped the gingery monster into her arms. The one green eye that wasn‘t blind yet sparkled in the half-dark, and their cat meowed loudly at Soap.

"She just missed you," she smiled, kissing the scarred ears for a moment.

And did you? He wanted to ask, but swallowed the words down. It seemed like he‘d reached his limit of things he was able to leave unsaid for the night though, because the next question slipped out before he could stop himself.

"Did you call the lawyer again?" 

She stiffened a little, then glanced up at him from behind long eyelashes.

"Yeah," his wife said slowly, thinking hard. "She wasn‘t very happy that I called you. Thinks you‘ll talk me out of it." 

Damn right I am.

"What," he scoffed, arms crossed in defense of what might follow next. "She wanted you to just… send the finished papers?"

"Something like that."

Soap ground his teeth hard, trying not to panic again. 

"Well, I‘m glad you didn‘t listen."

"I wanted to," she confessed, and now it was him who couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. "I wanted it so badly, John. I‘ve been miserable and alone, and our whole life just seems to suffocate me recently."

"I‘m sorry," he said, and meant it with his whole heart. "I know I fucked up, that I should have been better for you-"

"No," she interrupted him, and reached out a hand, resting it on his bicep. Her small fingers were cold but it made him feel warm regardless. "I didn’t need you to be better, I just wanted you to be there."

His throat closed up, and Soap let his head drop far enough to rest his chin on his chest, trying to keep the tears at bay. Their cat meowed between them, as he rested one hand on hers without glancing up.

"I lost sight of what was most important t’me," he whispered. "‘s not an excuse but… bein’ out there, it just fucks up your perspective. Days bleed into one big messed up pile of monotonous tasks, violence, and death. I‘m not a good man, never pretended to be. You knew that when you married me, and never blamed me for it. And… I love you so fucking much, it hurts to even just think-"

He had to pause, drag one hand over his face roughly. 

His wife sighed softly, then rested her cheek on his arm where their hands were joined. 

"I know I hurt you, badly. And I know that you said you‘d stay in my life as a friend, but you‘re not. You never have been. You‘re my soulmate, my wife, and I-" Soap swallowed, torn between wanting to get it all out and crawl deeper into himself. "I want us to try again. Price offered three weeks of leave, but if I have to find a doctor that can testify how fucked in the head I am so I can stay longer, I will." 

"John!" She gasped, grabbing his chin to force him into facing her again. "You know that a bad psych eval might mean the end of your entire career!" 

Thinking about that hurt, but not as much as her phone call had. 

"I‘d do it for you," he whispered back. "I‘ll say that-"

"Shut up," she hissed, then dropped Salome on the countertop and shoved the cold spaghetti towards him. "Eat this, and then you‘ll go sleep on the sofa. I don‘t want to hear any of this nonsense."

"But-"

"No."

Chastened, Soap carried his plate into the dim living room and tried very hard not to take a peek at the still open website on his wife‘s laptop. There was a strange sense of relief when he noticed that all their wedding and travel pictures were still up on the walls, and he fiddled with his ring as he slumped heavily on the sofa.

The food was good as always, and he didn’t try to protest when she dragged in two pillows and a blanket, carefully putting it down next to him. 

She stood there for a moment, looking down at him with soft, sad eyes. Soap balanced his plate on a cushion nearby, then gently pulled her closer by the hips until she stood between his legs and he was able to bury his face in her stomach.

His wife didn’t move for a few long heartbeats, then stroked through his mohawk and all the way down to the top of his spine. Soap exhaled sharply, and hugged her, unable to speak as she comforted him when it really should have been the reverse. 

And much, much later, when the lack of sleep and constant worry finally caught up with him, she didn’t comment on the tear-stained blotches on her shirt, or the way his head hit the pillow way too hard. She draped the feathery soft blanket all around him, and the perfume of her skin and laundry detergent was the most heavenly thing he‘d smelt in months.

Just as he closed his swollen and dry eyes, his wife bent down - Soap held his breath as she kissed his forehead and cheekbone.

"We can talk again in the morning, my love," she whispered, and all he managed to do was squeeze her hand one last time before she packed up her things and left.

Tiny, clawed footsteps - then the sudden heavy weight of their cat on his hip startled him from a restless slumber, and Soap groggily patted the gnarled ears as he instinctively listened out for danger nearby. 

"You think we still got a chance, old girl?" He asked, and Salome meowed back. 

<- previous chapter || last chapter ->

My general COD writing masterlist with all my stories including this one, a COD headcanons masterlist + the COD Halloween Monster Special. It‘s all linked separately in my pinned blog post for easy navigation as well!

taglist of the people that commented/reblogged on the last chapter 💖: @alittlejudgemental @igotchuuknj @yyiikes @avidreadee123 @astraluminaaa @sunshinevs3 @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @muffinsncoffee @devcica @alwaysshallow @thebeesatemyknees

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Hopefully everybody got through their Monday alright, I‘m literally fighting demons to even set an alarm for tomorrow lmao. Much love and slobbery kisses! - A✨

pink dividers by @cafekitsune 🌟

Haven't read it yet. I'm just keeping it here, so when my guests leave my darned house, I'll read it. *Evil smirk* 😤

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Summary: Your pack is back home, but things aren't quite as good as you try to make them seem. Some truths get revealed, while others remain in the dark.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,337 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, '09 Ghost's backstory, mentioned abuse/child abuse, still pretty heavy emotionally, language, finally some of the comfort after the hurt, plenty of fluff

A/N: This stupid fic making me cry again. I may have lied about this one not being quite as heavy as the others...it's still pretty heavy, but there are some sweet moments in there too. There is a bit of a time jump in the middle, it's roughly a week long or so. Not much, but it does cut ahead a bit just for the sake of plot and moving things along. Also yeah, I got it done earlier than expected.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re warm. Sweat has begun to form in the creases of your body. You’re wrapped around something solid, something contributing to the intense warmth. The smell of leather and eucalyptus fills your nose as you nuzzle your face against soft fabric. It sends a shiver down your spine despite the heat, your eyes fluttering open. You’re staring at a blurry mass of black fabric, your brain beginning to catch up as you become more and more aware. 

Leather. Eucalyptus. Something distinctly alpha. 

Fuck. 

You’re spooning Ghost. 

He has to be asleep, otherwise he would never let you get so close to him. He would have shoved you off, pushed you back towards Johnny, who you’ve traded places with in the middle of the night. You must have gotten too hot sandwiched between the two betas and tried to escape somewhere cooler. That led to you spooning with Ghost, not that he’s much cooler than the betas. 

You can get away before he wakes up, remove yourself from his personal space before he realizes and forces you away. Avoid the shame and embarrassment of his rejection, his anger at you for crossing that boundary, even just in your sleep. Despite the fact you know that boundary is there, despite the fact you did it unintentionally, you’re not sure you could handle such a rejection right now, even from him. 

You slowly begin to withdraw your arm from around his middle, sliding it back towards your body. If you go slow enough, you should be able to untangle yourself from around him without waking him and avoid a confrontation. 

A quiet gasp is pulled from your lips as his hand wraps around your wrist, keeping you from moving. 

“Don’t.” He says quietly. 

Your heart is thudding in your chest as he tugs your arm back around him, keeping you where you are. Your exhale is shaky as you slowly relax, pressing your face against his back again. You’re not sure what to do. You were expecting him to push you away, get up in disgust and leave because you got too close, you pushed past the barrier he had placed around himself when it came to you. A barrier that got let down only while you’re training, then it’s put right back up as soon as you’re finished. Now here you are, spooning him after sleeping in the same room, the same nest. 

You wouldn’t have taken him for being a little spoon type. 

Your eyes begin to droop again as you lay there, breathing in Ghost’s scent. It’s like a comforting blanket, lulling you into a sense of relaxation, of safety, something you haven’t felt in days. For the first time your mind is quiet, not panicking about what happened, or what could happen. You don’t have to worry about your pack now, because they’re here with you again. 

You drift off to sleep again for a while, sleeping soundly in the cocoon of safety your pack has provided for you. 

You wake a while later, sticky with sweat. Your back is pressed against Ghost’s, and there’s something draped across your face. You push it away, blinking your eyes open. Johnny has starfished across the nest on his back, his mouth open as he snores. He’s stolen your bear, one arm holding it against his chest, and the other arm had been what was draped across your face. Kyle is curled up on his other side, having moved from the middle to the far side of the nest. John is missing, making your brows furrow. 

You push yourself up to sit, the air in the room almost like a sauna. You rub your eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness. That might have been the best sleep you’ve gotten since your heat. It was likely the exhaustion taking its toll, paired with your brain finally being able to relax while surrounded by your pack.

You feel like you could lay down and sleep for another ten hours. 

You’re warm, though, sweat causing your clothes to stick to your skin. The blankets have all been kicked to the end of the mattresses, likely ditched early on in the night. You wiggle out of your sweatpants, kicking them off the end of the mattress as well, leaving you in a baggy shirt that you think is Johnny’s. 

You feel suddenly exposed sitting there, your eyes flicking around the room as a chill runs down your spine. John would have noticed if something was out of place, but he could have just brushed it off as you in his room. He had given you permission to be in his space while he was gone, if you needed to. One of them would have noticed if things were out of place in their rooms. Ghost would likely notice, since you haven’t been in his room at all. 

You lay back down on your back, staring up at the vent on the ceiling. The cover is in place, and no matter how hard you look, you can’t see a camera hiding in the gaps. It doesn’t ease your worry any as you stare up at it, wishing you had your phone so you could at least try to look for one. Though, perhaps it was better you didn’t have your phone with you. You hadn’t been brave enough to pop it open and look for anything strange hidden inside, though you wouldn’t even know where to begin to look, or what to look for. 

You should tell them. What if someone is watching you right now? 

You flinch as John appears in the doorway suddenly, five water bottles tucked against his chest. Your skin is crawling from the thought of someone watching, someone listening in on such a private moment with you and your pack. You hadn’t even thought about it last night, the stress and your fear had taken over your mind. You push yourself back up to sit as John passes Ghost a water bottle, handing one to you as well. You unscrew the cap as John places the other bottles on his desk. Johnny and Kyle still asleep, unaware of the world. 

Unaware of the danger. 

A cold shiver slips down your spine as you gulp down the water. What if someone had entered the barracks last night? You weren’t in your room, and the door wasn’t locked. Anyone could have just walked in and put up cameras again easily. 

One of the guys would have heard someone snooping around, right? You were so out of it you likely would have slept through one of them getting up. What if they were also so exhausted from their deployment they could have slept through someone breaching their space as well. Did Ghost lock the door last night? You can’t remember. 

“Alright, sweetheart?” 

Your head snaps up to where John is leaning against his desk. His brows are slightly furrowed as he stares at you, and you realize you’ve been projecting your scent. With them gone, you didn't have to worry as much. You could stink up a room without a care. It just meant more protection for you. Now that they’re back, though, you have to be more careful. You can’t just go panicking over nothing, not that you should have to panic while they’re here. 

That’s their job, right? Protect the omega? 

They can’t protect you if they don’t know there’s a threat in the first place. 

“Yeah.” You say, gulping down more water to think up an excuse quickly. “Thought I might be dreaming for a moment, that you didn't really come back.” 

John approaches you slowly, kneeling down on the end of the mattress with a quiet sigh. He has to be sore after their deployment. You can tell just by the way he’s holding his shoulders, by the stiffness in the way he moves. You can’t even begin to imagine the kinds of things they did, the kinds of things they went through over the last week. 

John takes your hand, pressing it against his chest. He’s warm underneath the shirt, and you can feel the steady beating of his heart under your palm. “We’re real.” He says, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand as he holds it against his chest. “We’re really here.” 

You stare at his hand where it covers yours. You’ve seen it before, many times. Scarred and rough with calluses. His knuckles are dry and just slightly bruised. Did he punch someone? Or maybe he hit it against something else. 

His hand moves, snapping you out of your thoughts. You fight the urge to flinch as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “You’re thinking too much.” 

You swallow thickly. “Well, I didn’t have much to do this last week besides think.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “We’ll try to make life more interesting for you, then.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get these two muppets up for breakfast.” 

He pushes himself back up to stand, staring down at Johnny and Kyle, still sleeping. You shift onto your hands and knees, crawling over to Johnny before swinging a leg over to straddle his stomach. You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his face, his breath catching as he begins to wake up, sensing a disturbance. You stare down at him, watching his eyes flutter before they crack open. The haze of sleep leaves his blue eyes, clarity coming back to him quickly as his lips begin to lift in a grin as he stares up at you. 

“Didnae expect tae wake up to such a sight.” He says, voice thick with sleep as his hands come to rest on your bare thighs. “A beautiful woman on top of me? I must’ve died and gone tae heaven in my sleep.” 

“Even better,” You say, leaning down closer. “Because I’m real.” 

“That ye are.” He says, slowly dragging his hands up your legs, pushing the shirt up as he goes. 

Ghost pushes himself off the mattress, leaving the room so quickly he nearly knocks his shoulder against the doorframe. A frown pulls at your brows as you watch him go, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit on Johnny’s stomach. Guilt starts to well up in you as you stare at the empty doorway. You hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable. 

“Don’t mind him, kitten.” Johnny says, pushing himself up to sit, sliding you backwards into his lap. “He’s still miffed he didn’t get a greetin’ yesterday.” 

“Oh,” You say, blinking in surprise. You hadn’t even thought about greeting Ghost in that moment. You had been so desperate for your alpha, and then swept up by the betas, it hadn’t even crossed your mind to acknowledge Ghost. “I didn’t-” 

“It’s not yer fault.” Johnny says, wrapping his arms around you. “He hasnae been the most...open with ye. It’s his own damn fault for it.” 

“Oh, well, I’ll be sure to give him a big hug when he comes back in.” You say. 

“Please do.” Kyle says, rubbing his eyes where he’s laying next to you. “I’ll pay to see his reaction.” 

All three of you burst out laughing, Johnny pressing his forehead against yours. “Missed ye, kitten.” 

“Not as much as I missed you.” You say, pouting. 

Johnny chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His hands slide to your hips as he presses another soft kiss to your lips, and then another. 

“Let me get in on some of that.” Kyle says, pushing himself up to sit. He grips your chin in his hand, turning your face to his before pressing his lips to yours. 

His kiss takes your breath away, deeper and more passionate than Johnny’s had been. You hum against his lips as Johnny’s grip on your waist tightens. 

“Christ almighty.” Johnny breathes, staring at you and Kyle as you kiss. 

“Alright, you three.” John says as the air in the room starts to turn musky with arousal. “Let’s feed our omega first before we get too carried away.” 

Kyle pulls away from you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Can we...eat in here again?” You ask, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s shoulders as you turn slightly to look up at John. You had almost forgotten about his presence, caught up in the attention from your betas. The thought of him watching the three of you has a different kind of thrill racing down your spine. 

“Of course.” John says, bending down to kiss you. 

Both Johnny and Kyle groan at the sight of their pack alpha kissing you, Johnny’s cock twitching in his boxers beneath you. You press a kiss to Johnny’s cheek after John pulls away from you before pushing yourself up to stand. You stretch your arms over your head, the shirt riding up a bit, giving both Kyle and Johnny a good view of your legs. The musky scent of arousal intensifies in the air as they stare at you, Johnny licking his lips hungrily. 

“Alright, get out of here you cheeky little minx, otherwise they’ll never get out of bed.” John says, gently guiding you from the room. 

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you leave John’s room, stepping out into the hallway. It’s much cooler outside of the room, goosebumps forming on your legs. You have half a mind to go back to your own room, but you find yourself unable to even approach the door. Memories of the fear and your panic come flooding back, the thought that someone might have snuck inside, someone might be waiting for you in there snapping to the front of your mind. It’s a ridiculous thought. Someone would have noticed if there was an intruder, if there was someone who shouldn’t be inside creeping around. 

Your gaze flickers from your door as Ghost makes his way down the hallway, his clothes changed from what he’d been wearing to sleep in. You bite your lip as you stare at him, meeting his gaze. Perhaps it's the fear driving you forward, or maybe you’ve gone slightly crazy in their absence, but you find yourself approaching him, making him stop in his tracks. 

He eyes you as you approach, your steps quick as you try to avoid chickening out. Your mind is repeating Johnny’s words over and over in your head, an explanation for Ghost’s behavior yesterday, and obvious annoyance at you and Johnny this morning. You wonder if he’ll take it as a threat as you get closer to him, if he might snap and defend himself. He’s completely still, not even his chest moving. He’s watching you like a predator watches its prey, waiting for your next move. 

It’s like hugging a tree as you wrap your arms around his waist. He’s stiffer than a board as you hug him, resting your face on his chest. Leather and eucalyptus and musk all float around you as you press close to him, his scent enveloping you in a hug, even if his body doesn’t follow suit. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. 

“Hugging you.” You say, tightening your hold around him. You’ve been this close to him before in your training, but this feels different. “I’m sorry for not greeting you on the tarmac. I wasn’t really thinking clearly at that point.” 

He lets out a quiet sigh, something you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so close to him. You can imagine it’s a sigh of exasperation at Johnny for spilling about his feelings. “It’s fine.” He says, awkwardly patting your back. “Don’t know why you would have wanted to.” 

“Well, you are part of the pack.” You say. “That should be enough reason.” 

You nuzzle your face against his chest, his scent going straight to the back of your brain. Your omega wants to roll in it, cover herself in it until it’s all you can smell. The intensity of his scent has something in your hindbrain purring, the sound rumbling through your chest. 

Ghost puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back from him. You blink up at him blearily as your mind begins to clear a bit with the distance. “At least put some pants on before you completely lose it.” He grumbles. 

A small smile tugs at your lips before it falls at the thought of having to go into your room. You turn to face the door, your vision almost tunneling as you stare at it. You don’t want to open it. You don’t want to go in there. 

“Ghost?” You say quietly before he can walk away. 

He turns to look at you, his eyes squinting just slightly as he frowns. “What?” 

“Will you...will you open my door for me?” You shift your weight, knowing he’s going to want a reason, an explanation for your behavior. 

He turns fully to face you, shoulders squared as he slowly approaches, suddenly on the defensive. “What is it?” 

You shake your head. “Just a feeling.” 

He steps between you and the door, wrapping his fingers around the handle before he swings it open, scanning the inside. His shoulders relax just slightly and you let out a breath of air. There’s no one inside. No one’s waiting for you. No one broke in last night. 

He takes a step back before turning to you. “Nothing.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, staring into the space that was once your nest, your safe place. You can feel Ghost’s eyes on you, waiting for an explanation for your behavior. You can’t tell him the truth, despite how easy it would be. You could confess right now, admit to what happened, what you did, the mistake you made. You could drop to your knees right now, beg for forgiveness for what you did. 

“It was hard...while everyone was gone.” You say. It’s not a lie. Not entirely. “Made me uneasy, being alone here. Kept thinking I was hearing things.” 

He doesn’t believe you. You can see it in his eyes. He knows your lying, he knows you’re withholding the truth from him. You aren’t, you just aren’t giving him the whole truth. You had felt lonely, you had been on edge even before General Shepherd arrived and your room was bugged. Being alone was hard. Harder than you thought it would be. It would have taken its toll on you, even without the stress of your space being invaded multiple times. 

You should have told someone. You should have called Dr. Keller right away. You should have never opened the door in the first place. 

“Thank you.” You say, slipping past him and entering your room. 

He stands there for a few breaths, watching you warily as you open your closet, looking for something to wear. You ignore him, acting like he’s not there, but you can’t hide the squaring of your shoulders, the stiffness of your movements. You’re not sure you could resist if he pressed, if he tried to force you to tell him. You’d spill immediately, even without him using his alpha against you. 

The thought has another chill racing down your spine. 

Your omega is on edge as you change with the door open, not caring as the guys move around, getting dressed to head out to grab breakfast for everyone. You hate how inconvenient it must be, but you still don’t think you could handle being in the mess. Not yet. Not so soon. You’ll have to eventually, otherwise they’ll think something is up, happened, and then they’ll start questioning. 

You couldn’t handle an interrogation. Especially not their disappointed and angry faces when you confess to what you did, the mistakes you made, how you allowed someone to walk in so easily. How you left so easily with a stranger. They’d never trust you again. 

They won’t trust you if you keep things from them either. 

They have to know. They have to know General Shepherd came to base and talked to you. They have to know about you meeting their superior while they were away. A high ranking General couldn’t just be on base without someone knowing, and why would he hide it? He had come to check in on your progress and how you were settling in with your pack. He would have included your pack in that questioning as well, right? Besides, there has to be cameras everywhere on base. Someone would have seen you and let them know. 

There’s no way they don’t know about it. 

You stand in the doorway of your bathroom, staring at the cabinet where the broken cameras and recording devices are hidden. They’re broken, you ensured that. They’re hidden away, buried under enough stuff no one could find them unless they were purposefully looking for something. 

You let out a breath, trying to relax as you finish your morning routine. It’s over. There’s nothing that can be done now. All you can do is try to move on, try to mend the fraying bonds with your pack, heal the sense of fear and unease surrounding your safe space. 

Maybe Dr. Keller could help. You could admit everything to her, everything that happened while she was supposed to be watching you. If you had just gone to her office that afternoon, perhaps things would have been different. She would have known, but that wouldn’t have stopped the cameras from being put up. It would have just made it easier for them. Maybe they might have finished the job properly, and you wouldn’t have even known. Even if you had called Dr. Keller, what kind of argument could she have made against a Commanding Officer? 

If you told Dr. Keller now, she’d tell your pack. She’s promised to keep everything between you confidential, but would something like this be an exception? Would she tell your pack anyway because she thinks it’s the best course of action to help you? 

You want to cry. Tears are welling in your eyes as you stare in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself. You look tired, strung out, sickly almost. Are you not, though? Is that not how you feel? You know omegas can get sick from stress sometimes, if it gets to be too much. You don’t want to get sick. You don’t want to be more of a burden than you’re already being. They have to be so tired after their assignment, and here you are making things harder for them. 

“You alright, love?” 

You jump, letting out a shriek as you whip around to face the door of your room. Your heart is racing as you slap a hand over your mouth, staring wide-eyed at an equally surprised Kyle. You let out a breath, slowly lowering your trembling hand as you try to calm yourself. It’s just Kyle sneaking up on you. Not a stranger. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He says, brows pinching in a frown. 

“‘S okay.” You murmur, turning off the light before leaving the bathroom. “Was lost in thought.” 

“The others left to grab food.” Kyle says. “They’ll be back shortly.” 

You nod, trying hard not to make your trembling too visible, or give any hint at your discomfort. “Okay.” 

You stare at him as he leans against the doorframe. He hasn’t entered your room. He’s still standing in the doorway. The thought has a lump forming in your throat. Your bonds have frayed so much he doesn’t even feel comfortable entering your space anymore. There’s a wall up again, and you’re only forcing it higher and higher. 

“Come on.” He says, holding his hand out to you. “Let’s go to the rec room.” 

You take his offered hand, letting him pull you from your room. The door clicks closed behind you as you let him lead you down the hallway and away from the place that’s become fuel for your nightmares. 

Kyle sits down on the couch, pulling you down on his lap. You wrap your arm around his neck as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth and scent. 

“I’m sorry for startling you.” He says softly, bringing your other hand to his lips so he can press a kiss to your wrist. 

“It’s not your fault.” You say, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Been on edge since everyone left.” 

“I bet.” Kyle leans his cheek against the top of your head. “We’re here now. We’re gonna fix that.” 

“What happens when you have to leave again?” You ask. 

“You won’t be alone again, that’s for sure.” A different voice says. 

You nearly jump out of Kyle’s lap as John appears in the doorway of the rec room, Johnny and Ghost right behind him. Kyle’s arms are the only thing keeping you steady as your heart nearly beats out of your chest. You’re not sure how much more you can take, intentionally or unintentionally. 

“I spoke with Kate this morning.” John says as he sets the food he’s carrying on the coffee table. “We’re going to do everything in our power to avoid having you left alone again. At least one of us will be staying behind with you from now on.” 

Your brows pinch a little. Is that why he had been absent from the nest earlier? You’re not quite sure what to feel. On one hand you’re relieved at the thought of not having to be alone again, but on the other hand, you don’t want to disrupt their lives, their jobs. You wonder just how hard he had to fight to even get Kate to agree to something like this. 

You also feel a bit afraid that they know, they figured out what had happened and that’s the reason they don’t trust to leave you alone again. You’ll make another stupid mistake or another risky decision that might cause you actual harm next time. 

Kyle eases you off his lap and onto the couch beside him. Johnny sits on your other side, squishing you between them as a tray is passed into your hands. You don’t feel very hungry as you stare down at the food, but you know after a meager dinner last night, you need to eat. You won’t be doing you or your pack any favors by being hungry. 

It’s quiet in the rec room as you eat. It’s almost eerie how silent it is, aside from the occasional scrape of silverware on the trays. You begin to float back into the time when they were gone, the haunting silence that had settled over the barracks in their absence. Everything had seemed so still, not peaceful, but more like the very walls were holding their breath. 

Perhaps it was in anticipation for what was to come. Perhaps somehow the very walls knew they would be beached, the safety they once promised would be upended. 

Or maybe you’ve just gone crazy. 

You shift forward on the couch, careful not to tip your tray over as you grab the remote from the coffee table, turning the TV on. 

“Finally! I couldnae handle the silence much longer.” Johnny exclaims, letting out a relieved sigh. 

The corners of your lips pull up in a smile as you pass the remote off to him, letting him search for something bearable to watch on early morning TV. You’re glad at least you weren’t alone in your distaste for the silence. You curl up closer to Gaz, reminding yourself that it’s not a dream, that they really are here. They really did come back. 

Now you just have to move on and put the nightmare of what happened behind you. 

As the days pass, things begin to return to normal. The guys start their normal routine of training and running drills almost immediately. To avoid being stuck in the barracks alone, you ask to go with them, blaming it on the distance and your need to be clingy still. At first you were afraid someone would take advantage of the barracks being empty again, but every search has come up empty handed. No more cameras, no more recording devices. 

Whoever it was who planted them must have given up, or perhaps the risk of doing it with the entire pack back on base was too high. 

Despite this fact, you spend the least amount of time in your room as possible. Even when you can’t go to watch them train or run drills, you spend your time in John’s room, or in the rec room. At night you rotate between John, Kyle, and Johnny, opting to sleep with them over spending a night alone in your room. 

As you discussed, you begin seeing Dr. Keller twice a week. You’re not quite sure what she told John to convince him it was necessary, but whatever it was, it hadn’t given away any of your secrets. It probably hadn’t taken much to convince him to say yes, given your current state and his worry about you. 

You know he’s worried. You can see it when he looks at you, like you might snap if he stares too hard. You’ve seen the way his hands twitch when Johnny holds you too tightly or gets too rough in his affection, like he’s worried you might shatter.

It’s reassuring to see the distance has not just affected you. Johnny holds you tighter than he used to, Kyle stands closer to you like he’s trying to fuse you both into one. Even Ghost has started hovering closer, using his hands to steer you and guide you when you’re around others that aren’t part of your pack. 

You’ve started eating in the mess again, knowing you can only avoid it for so long before they’ll start getting suspicious and asking questions. You still feel paranoid, being around the other soldiers on base. You can’t help but be suspicious that it was one of them that planted the cameras, that it was one of them that tried to get into your room that night. Who would willingly breach such sacred ground and invade an omega’s space like that, you couldn’t even begin to guess.  

Sure, some of them still stare at you, but most of them now ignore your existence. You’re no longer a spectacle, not after a few weeks on base, not that you’re a claimed omega now. 

That won’t stop some alphas. 

Going up against your pack, though? That would take one hell of a cocksure alpha. 

Just like the one that invaded your safe space. 

It had to have been an alpha. Sure, that beta soldier had entered the barracks, but to go so far as to put up cameras and try to come back and get into your room? That takes a special kind of audacity, something only an alpha could possess. 

So life has gone back to normal, or at least as normal as it can be after what happened. 

The return to normal hasn’t all been good, though. Your nightmares have returned, coming on quickly as soon as you began to settle into routine again. The real nightmare has passed, so now your mind has to plague itself with nightmares that have already happened. Things that can’t even hurt you anymore. 

You start avoiding sleep again, despite your work with Dr. Keller, too afraid to risk having a nightmare in front of one of them again. The last thing you need is to have to spill about your nightmare. You might not be able to stop and wind up spilling about what happened while they were gone too. 

Unfortunately, things don’t work that way. They never work that way for you. 

Someone is screaming. Your body feels like it’s being constricted by a snake, crushing and painful as you’re clutched desperately against your mother’s chest. She’s the one that’s screaming, the sound hurting your ears. Your face is pressed against her shoulder, into the softness of her sweater. It’s the pink one, the one she made. Her favorite. 

There’s knocking coming from somewhere, a door handle jiggling. It’s locked, but you can hear someone trying to get in, multiple people based on the voices from the other side. You don’t know who it is. You don’t recognize any of them. You can’t even make out what it is their saying, if they’re saying anything at all. The voices sound more like the unintelligible roar of monsters, the ones you used to be afraid of as a child. 

Everything is muted by the blood pulsing in your ears, drowning out everything but the jiggling of the door handle. Someone’s trying to break in. Someone is breaking in. You can make out the thuds against the door, the desperate attempts to get inside, to get to you. 

The arms around you tighten, pressing your face harder into the soft yarn of the sweater. You inhale the familiar scent of brown sugar and vanilla, the scent surrounding you and enveloping you in a sense of safety. Nothing can get you. Nothing can hurt you. 

That’s not true, though. You know it’s not. 

There’s a bang as the door is finally forced open, the screaming getting louder as footsteps enter the room. You’re shaking, trembling in your mother’s arms as she clings to you desperately, just like you used to cling to her when you thought there was a monster under your bed. 

The monsters were real, you realize as you desperately cling to your mother, just as tightly as she’s clinging to you. 

Hands grab at you, claws digging into your skin, tentacles wrapping around your body, trying to pull you from your mother’s grip. You can hear her pleading, begging, screaming at them not to take you, not to separate you. You’ll never see her again if they manage to pull you from her. They’ll take you away, hide you away, keep you from the warm comfort of her embrace. 

You let out a scream of your own as you’re yanked from her grasp, your arms reaching for her as the monsters pull you from the source of your safety and comfort. The last thing you see is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door slams in your face. 

A scream tears from your lips as you’re pulled from sleep suddenly. You’re falling, hitting the tile floor with a thud. Your shoulder cracks against the unforgiving floor, making you yelp. The blanket has tangled around your legs, rendering you immobile from the waist down. 

The frantic pounding of boots on the floor meets your ears, seconds before the four members of your pack are sprinting into the rec room. Their faces look just as frantic as their steps had been, concern laced with fear laced with worry. You hadn’t even realized they’d returned already. They had been at their afternoon drills while you stayed in the rec room watching TV, slowly succumbing to the exhaustion that’s been plaguing you. 

“What is it? What happened?” Kyle asks, moving to step forward but John beats him to it. 

“Fell off the couch.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit, wincing at the pain in your shoulder. There’s tears sliding down your cheeks despite you fighting the remnants of your terror and pain from the nightmare. 

“I think there’s more to it than that.” John says, kneeling down in front of you. 

You want to confess everything. How you haven’t been sleeping well for weeks now since your heat, how you keep having horrible nightmares about your past, what happened while they were away, how the nightmares have returned. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at John, the tears sliding down your cheeks as you give up trying to control them. Guilt plagues you as you stare at the worried face of your alpha. He just wants to help you, he just wants to take care of you, but he can’t if you’re keeping things from him, if you’re lying to his face. 

“I had a nightmare.” You say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You clutch your arm to your chest, trying not to move your shoulder too much. 

John lets out a quiet sigh, his fingers lifting to press against your shoulder, feeling around the joint. You wince as he hits a tender spot, the pain sharp, but not horrible. You’ve certainly felt worse things. 

He turns to the others behind him, all of them staring at you with equally worried looks on their faces. “Get me an ice pack.” He says before turning back to you. 

He lifts you off the floor, placing you back on the couch before untangling the blanket from around your legs. Johnny grabs an ice pack as Kyle moves to sit next to you on the couch, draping his arm across the back, projecting his scent to try and help you relax. John sits on the edge of the coffee table, staring at you. Despite the worry still present on his face, his eyes are sharp. You can’t help but feel like you’re suddenly in an interrogation. They’ve done this before, probably many times, though likely not as gently as they are now. You’re terrified still at the way they shift so easily into the mindset of a soldier. You can’t even imagine what it would be like if they were serious in their interrogation of you. 

“How long have you been having nightmares?” John asks as Johnny takes a seat on the other side of you, passing you the ice pack. 

You press it against your shoulder, trying to keep your thoughts straight. You have to try not to spill anything, try not to confess to all of your sins, all of your stupid mistakes now. Your gaze drops to your lap, avoiding the looks of the two alphas staring at you. Ghost has moved to stand behind John, his arms crossed as he watches the exchange. You can feel the pressure of their gaze, the sharpness of it digging into your skin like knives. 

“A couple weeks.” You admit, unable to even think of a lie. You don’t want to lie now, not with them staring at you so intensely. They’d know. They’d be able to tell before the words even left your mouth. “Since my heat ended.” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding sleeping?” John asks. 

You wince at his question. Of course he noticed. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been trained to notice weaknesses in others, gauge the capabilities of his men. Of course he’d notice you’re more tired than usual, not sleeping quite as much. He probably even knew all the times you woke up in the night when you slept next to him.  

You nod, still staring at your lap, too afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He breathes, almost sounding upset. 

You’ve made a mistake in keeping this a secret. You regret it as soon as you hear the emotion in his voice. He thinks you don’t trust them, he thinks you don’t trust your alpha. You need to tell him. You need to tell him everything, but the fear keeps you paralyzed. How much more upset will he be when you confess that you kept such a major event from him, from all of them? 

A quiet sob leaves your lips as you sit there, terrified of the reprimanding you’re sure to get. The shame burns hot in you, the reminder that you’ve disappointed them. You’ve let them down and now they won’t even trust you to tell them anything. 

“We’re not mad at you, sweetheart.” Gaz says, shifting his arm so it’s wrapped around your shoulders, his thumb brushing the hand that’s holding the ice pack to your shoulder. Johnny shifts just slightly closer to you, both of the betas projecting their scent around you, trying to cocoon you in their comforting presence. 

“I just want to know why you felt it necessary to hide something like that from us.” John says, his voice softer than it had been before. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You find the words spilling out before you can stop them. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the fear or your brain finally getting tired of holding everything in. This is your moment to let out a little steam, to finally release some of the pressure that’s been building. “My nightmares are nothing compared to the ones you all probably have and it’s stupid and I shouldn’t even be having them, it’s been years since the last time I dreamed like this, and I don’t even know why they’ve come back now.” 

“No nightmares are stupid.” Ghost says, stepping up closer to the coffee table. 

“We’re here to help you.” John says, leaning his elbows on his knees. “We can’t do that if you don’t tell us what’s going on.” 

Guilt burns through you at his words. He’s right. You should be honest with them, tell them everything. They can’t help you, they can’t keep you safe even from the things that plague your mind if they don’t know about them. 

“What are the dreams about?” John asks, blue eyes boring holes into you. 

You feel small under his gaze, like you're a child again, facing down your father after doing something wrong, after making a mistake. You have made a mistake, though. You’re facing the consequences of your mistake right now. 

“The day I left for the institute.” You say quietly, voice hardly more than a whisper but you know they heard you in the silence of the barracks. It feels threatening, like the walls are silently vowing to tell the truth if you don’t. 

Your pack shifts a bit at your words, sharing looks amongst themselves. They have to know what it’s like, or at least heard stories about the trauma of being pulled from your pack to be taken to a strange place, surrounded by others just like you. 

“What happened that day?” Ghost asks, staring down at you. 

You can feel his gaze piercing into you, screaming the silent threat that you’re going to tell them, no matter how long they have to sit here and wait. You don’t have a choice anymore. You have to tell them. 

You’re warm. The ice pack pressed against your forehead does little to soothe the burning under your skin. You’re thirsty, the two empty plastic bottles on your nightstand were not enough to ease the dryness in your mouth. 

Hands shift the ice pack, pressing it against your cheek. Your mother is there, seated next to your bed diligently. She’s crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, quiet sniffles breaking the silence in the house. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, bringing your hand to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes, as if it’s her fault, as if she brought this onto you. 

She gasps quietly as the door opens, her back stiffening as your father enters. His face is stern, mouth almost twisted with disgust as he stares at you. It feels wrong, having him invade your space. If you’d had the energy, perhaps you would have been brave enough to protest his presence. 

“Come on.” His voice is gruff, worn down from years of smoking and yelling. “Get up.” 

“No, please-” Your mother attempts to reason with him, but he won’t have it. 

“Shut up and sit down.” He snaps at her, and she has no choice but to sit back and be silent. His voice has something tingling in the back of your neck, almost like a warning. There’s nothing you can do, though. You’re far too weak. 

He moves to the side of your bed, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the comfort of your blankets. The ice pack falls from your head, your skin prickling with warmth almost like it hadn’t been there in the first place. Your brain is sluggish as you try to comprehend what’s happening, your legs giving out as you’re forced upright. You can’t get your body to work, you can’t even force yourself to behave. You want to crawl back under your blankets and lay there for the rest of eternity. 

You whine as you’re dragged from your room, knees knocking on the floor as you attempt to get your feet under you to ease the pain in your shoulder. Your father drags you into the living room, two people you don’t recognize standing next to the front door. 

“Please, please don’t do this!” Your mother pleads with him, right on his heels as he drops you in a heap in front of them. He catches her before she can rush forward to you. How you wish you could have her arms around you again, holding you and comforting you in your confusion. 

“Enough.” Your father snaps at her, looking down at you with disgust. “She’s no daughter of mine.” 

You blink up at him, the words seering through the haze, registering in your foggy mind. Tears gather in your eyes as you stare up at your parents, your siblings watching tensely from the living room as the scene unfolds before them. 

“No, no!” You cry as hands close around your arms, lifting you from the floor. “Mama!” You scream, trying to fight them as you’re pulled from your home, your safe space, your family, your pack. 

Your mother is yelling, fighting against your father’s hold around her, but it’s useless. He’s stronger. He wants this, so no one is going to stop him. She’ll pay later for her actions, her disagreement with him. You won’t be here to see it, though. You’re leaving and you won’t be coming back. 

The last thing you see as the cool air outside washes over your feverish skin is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door closes, locking you out forever. 

You’re dragged into the back of a van parked in the driveway. Two men in uniform climb in behind you before the doors are slammed shut. You curl up in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. You want your mom, you want to be back in the safety of her arms, the warmth and comforting softness that only she can provide. 

One of the men approaches you, a needle in his hand. You whimper in fear, pressing further back into the corner as he gets closer to you. He forces you down onto your stomach, the pain brief as he injects you with the sedative before he moves back to take his seat. You curl up in a ball, quietly sobbing as the drugs begin to work, your vision going hazy before you’re forced into unconsciousness. 

“I woke up hours later at the institute.” You say, wiping at the tears streaming down your cheeks, but it does little against the cascade of tears falling from your eyes. “Never saw or spoke to my family again. They didn’t even try to reach me, and I know my dad was the reason why. He hated me as soon as I presented.” 

“Fucking hell.” Ghost breathes, hands curled into fists at his sides. You can smell the intensity of his scent above everything, the burning ozone of anger rolling off of him. It makes you wince, even though you know it’s not directed at you. 

“That’s why he wanted to send you so quickly.” Kyle says, his arm tightening around you. 

“How did he get you into FIOT so soon after your presentation?” John asks. 

You shrug your good shoulder. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know he’d be sending me, much less so soon until it was happening.” 

“Christ,” Johnny breathes, gently taking your hand in his. “No wonder yer havin’ nightmares, kitten.” 

“I haven’t had this nightmare since I arrived at the institute. They started there, lasted a few weeks while I adjusted to being there.” You sniffle. “Haven’t had them since, until now. Dr. Keller says it’s because I finally feel safe enough to process the trauma of it happening.” 

John sits up a little straighter. “Is that why she suggested seeing you multiple times a week?” 

You nod. “We’re working on it. I asked her not to tell you, because I did plan on telling you eventually.” 

“I’m glad you told someone, at least,” He says. “And I’m glad you finally told us too. We might not be able to stop the nightmares, but at least now we can help support you in whatever way you need.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You say, squeezing Johnny’s hand slightly. He was the only one that knew you were having nightmares, but you hadn’t even confessed to him what was going on out of fear he’d tell the others. 

“It’s alright, sweet girl.” John says, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad it finally came out and now we can help you.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks, his thumb brushing your skin gently. 

The moment is broken as your stomach growls impatiently. It’s past your normal dinner time, your confession having kept you longer than you thought it would. You hadn’t gotten in your afternoon snack either, your body having chosen to nap instead. 

A small smile tugs at John’s lips. “Hungry, love?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Didn’t get my snack.” 

“We’ll go get some food and bring it here, how does that sound?” He asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. That sounds good.” 

He pushes himself up to stand, his knees cracking as he does. You fight the urge to say something, squeezing Johnny’s hand tightly. 

“I’ll stay.” Ghost says, still looking at you. 

John looks down at you and you meet Ghost’s gaze for a moment before nodding. John presses another kiss to your head, Johnny and Kyle pressing kisses to your cheeks before they get up, leaving the rec room to get dinner for everyone. 

Ghost moves from his spot on the other side of the coffee table, sinking down at the end of the couch. You fight the urge to stare at him in surprise. You’re not sure you’ve seen him sit anywhere but in the chair the entire time you’ve been here. 

It’s silent between the two of you for a few moments, aside from the occasional sniffle from you. You wipe the remaining tears from your face, removing the melted ice pack from your shoulder, tossing it on the coffee table. This feels very familiar to you, this position. You’ve been here before, back when you punched the asshole alpha who insulted you. 

“My dad was a real asshole.” 

You turn your head slightly in surprise when Ghost break’s the silence suddenly. He’s not looking at you, his gaze distant, far away. You know that look well. You’ve seen it on him before, and also on a few omegas at the institute. You’re sure it’s graced your face as well many times. 

“He was a trad alpha, real piece of shit who couldn’t control his anger. Took it out on all of us. My mum, my brother, me.” He scoffs. “Mum took the brunt of it, but Tommy and I faced our fair share of it too. He used to bring dangerous animals home and taunted us with them. Made me kiss a snake once. He did all kinds of horrible things to us.” His voice softens a bit in a way you’ve never heard before. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable, not even when he told you about his own nightmares. “I’ve never wanted an omega, because of the things my dad did to my mum. I never wanted a pack either, but...maybe something deep down in me did because I said yes to this whole experiment.” 

The silence hangs heavy between you for a moment. You’re not sure what to say, or if you can even manage to say anything in response to what he’s just told you. You had no idea what his life was like growing up, except that he was also a purebred. 

“I was always too afraid the cycle would continue, that I’d turn out to be another piece of shit, just like my dad.” He says. 

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit.” You say, your voice cracking a bit. 

He huffs out a breath. “Thanks.” He stares down at the coffee table, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Did your dad ever hit you?” 

You shake your head. “Never directly. He got rough sometimes, grabbing us, squeezing too hard, yanking us around. He never stopped my brothers when they got too rough, though. They liked to wrestle, and I wanted to join because I wanted to spend time with my cooler older brothers. Sometimes they’d forget I was smaller than them and I got hurt a couple times. He never reprimanded them when it happened. I think he enjoyed it more than anything. He mostly just yelled a lot.” 

“Trad alphas only speak the language of yelling and violence.” He says. “If my father wasn’t screaming at us, his fists were getting the message across. Sometimes he’d do both at the same time.” Ghost shakes his head. “Real pieces of shit, trad alphas. Makes me sick, the kinds of things they believe in.” 

“I’m sorry about what happened to you.” You say, fishing for anything to follow up his confession with. Nothing feels right, nothing feels like enough. 

He shrugs. “It happened. It’s in the past. He died a few years ago. Left nothing but a stain behind.” 

“What happened to your mom and brother?” You ask. 

“Tommy got into drugs for a while, but he cleaned up and got married. Mum lives with him now. Still doing well.” He says. 

You’re surprised by his words. You’ve always heard that omegas don’t last long without their alphas. But what if their alpha was an asshole? Is the relief of their death enough to scrub out the grief of losing your alpha? 

You stare at the side of Ghost’s head, your heart thudding in your chest. You feel sorry for him, but at the same time, you’re grateful he shared this with you. You have much more in common than you thought you did with the giant aloof alpha. Maybe, perhaps, this can be a way for the two of you to grow closer, maybe you finally have common ground that you can share with him to get him to open up to you more. You know he wants it. The revelation of his disappointment at your lack of greeting, and the fact he let you hug him is enough to tell you he wants something more with you. It might never breach the realm of romance or even a casual fling, but you can’t deny the bond is there. You can feel it, the tugging in your chest as you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach when he puts a hand on your back to steer you through the crowd in the mess. 

You want him to want you. You want him to open up, to peel the layers back and bare his very soul to you. He’s already started. This confession is the beginning of that kind of bond between you. That he trusts you enough to tell you this makes something flutter in your chest. 

If only he knew you were keeping something worse from him. 

You could tell him. Confess to him right here, right now. Spill it all in this sort of mock confessional, this mock therapy session between you. He’ll be mad, but perhaps after everything that’s transpired today, he’ll be lenient. You’re not sure you could say the same about John, though. 

“Ghost, I-” You start but he cuts you off. 

“Simon.” 

“What?” You breathe, blinking in shock as he turns to face you. 

“My name. It’s Simon.” 

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Binged this today, already in love with it!! Can not wait for nore!!

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 6

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = everyone but Ghost/reader

Words = 1.2k

[Chapter 5] --- [Chapter 7]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

Explicit under the cut

“I did not listen to you Gaz and because of that, Duck, you got hurt.” Price sat on the floor looking genuine.

Gaz sighs before standing over Price and cupping his jaw with both his hands. With his thumb he opens Price’s jaw and spits in it “You are forgiven…You need to listen to me. I'm an omega and have a different perspective than you knotheads.”

Price remained in the kneeling position and looked up at Gaz with adoration and understanding. “I understand now, I am truly sorry for everything.” A soft smell filled the area causing you to sneeze.

“Laying it on thick aren’t ya Cap’” Soap teased gently, “Even the nose blind puppy can smell it..”

“I’m notta puppy!” Huffing you tilt your head to look up at Soap, “I’m 60!”

“Not even that old puppy” Soap teased “Guess how old we are..”

“Um I feel like this is a trick question..” thinking for a second “Price is 100, You are 30, Gaz is 32, and um Ghost is 80..?”

“Not even close puppy..” Price gave you a teasing look. “I’m 800ish, Soap is 67, Gaz is 600ish, and Ghost is 720ish years old..”

“Nu uh no wayyyyy” You look at the men flabbergasted.

“Don’t fret you're not the only puppy, Soap is too” Price gave you a smirk and Soap rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay you three..” Gaz sighed and turned around so he was looking at you “we need to sort out your heat.”

“Oh yeah...” You nod, still curled up In Soap’s lap feeling so safe and comfortable. “What does that look like, um, I kinda got the gist? I just get really horny right?”

“More or less,” Gaz started to pace as he started explaining “It comes in waves, so first you’ll get really hungry, thirsty, clingy, very sleepy and in that stage you’ll put on some weight which isn't a bad thing. Then you’ll want to nest and then you'll sleep. You could get really horny or you could just be very clingy and sleepy.” Pausing in front of you and Soap Gaz gave you a soft look “It’s different for everyone duck…”

“Oh alright…when will that happen?”

“Once your cycle figures itself out then it’ll be twice a year.” Gaz sat back down on the couch sighing. “They rut 6 times a year, which can be rough at times…”

“Duck,” Price looked at you gently, standing up he ruffled Soap’s already messy mohawk. “We will help out since it’s dangerous to go through a heat alone…and please understand we will go at your pace.” 

Kissing your temple Soap huffed as Price ruffled his hair. “However,” Soap started “before heat starts and before it gets to yer’ brain we need to ken if we can help you sexually if needed..”

“I can’t do one night stands” You look at the three men quietly “I get too attached, but if you guys are gonna stay then I wouldn’t mind...”

“Duck, you aren’t getting rid of us unless you want us gone…” Gaz smiled, leaning over to lick your jaw.

“Gaz! You licked me!” You cringe a bit, unused to the custom.

Soap joined in, licking your neck. “Best get used to it, duck!”

“You're supposed to kiss on the lips.” You grumble half heartedly.

“Okay, okay duck come here.” Gaz pulled you into his arms smiling “Can I give ya a kiss?”

Nodding as Gaz pulls you into a gentle and chaste kiss. If felt like molton love pressing onto your lips. As Gaz pulls away you chase his lips. You sigh happily.

“That's what you are supposed to do..”

“Oh yeah?” Soap looked at you mischievously. “Like this?”

Soap pressed his lips to your mouth, he was an amazing kisser. He felt much more wild with his kiss. Soap then licked a stripe up your cheek. You push him off playfully. “Was that good duckie?”

“Alright you pups, lettem’ go.” Price gently scruffles the two men, looking at them with fond exasperation. “Gaz, If you are alright with it, in the next hour or so could you go talk to Simon? Me and Soap will keep an eye on duck, maybe take them into town to get them some nesting supplies…?”

Gaz nodded, looking a bit frustrated. “Simon needs to pull his head out of his ass..”

“Is Simon, Ghost?” You ask, looking between the men confused.

Leaning close to your ear, Soap’s breath fanned over your neck making you squirm a bit from the sensitivity “yup..” then he licked your neck again causing you to squeal.

“Soap!” 

Pulling you both apart Gaz kissed the cheeks of you and Soap before pulling away to kiss Price on the cheek. “I’ll be back, I gotta knock some sense into that big wanker.” Gaz then left out the sliding glass door running back into the forest.

Soap took the distraction to flip you both so he was laying on top of you on the couch. He buried his face in the crook of your neck “You smell so good duckie..” sighing he melted against you “could do for a kip”

You and Soap laid comfortably on the couch for about 45 minutes before Price loomed over you both.

“Soap” Price rumbled, gently running his hands down both of your backs. “We need to get some things for their heat, and for duck’s den…”

Soap made a grumpy noise, wrapping his arms around you. “ah ken but-”

“Soa-”

“You could nap in my bed while me and Price go out?”

“But it wouldnae be warmmmmm.” Pouting, Soap made a sad noise as he snuggled against you more.

“I have a heated blanket?”

“A what?” Sitting up, Soap manhandled you into his lap again. He looked incredibly intrigued. 

A spark of arousal lit through and before shaking it off you hum “It’s an electric blanket that has settings and stays fairly warm..” You look at Soap kindly “It used to help a bit when I had the implant in my arm..”

“Ooo” rubbing his eyes, Soap looked interested. “Would be nice..I’m always cold..”

Climbing out of his lap, you stand ready to get Soap into bed.

“You can do that or you can come help get some good treats for duck..” Price murmured slyly. “If not I’m sure me and duck can find 'em well enough, yeah?”

A conflicted look decorated Soap’s face, he did look exhausted and like he needed a nap but he really wanted to help.

Picking up on Soap’s exhaustion “Me and duck’ll wait on groceries so you can nap okay?” Price looked at Soap softly. In a fluid moment Price picked Soap up and brought him up to your room with you trailing close behind.

As soon as he was set on the bed and covered up with the blanket Soap was dead to the world, softly snoring as he fell asleep on his side.

“Alright duck, get dressed.” Patting your shoulder, Price walked down stairs. 

You bush, remembering you were only wearing a thin robe. Quickly and quietly you toss on some comfy clothes and walk down stairs. Price was sitting at your kitchen table scrolling on his phone.

“Ready, duck?” 

“”Yessir” 

Imagine a Dog!hybrid!reader with human 141, so shes like an anomaly in a mostly human world. She's a doberman hybrid, like ghost she always has a ski mask on. Her eyes are visible, no matter what your eye color is reader has piercing amber eyes, (because of her being a dog hybrid, the only doberman that can have blue eyes different than the range of browns is the albino and I don't support the breeding of that gene) I'm imagining that she was a lab experiment and was found as a kid, found by some higher up that can keep her secret classified. I like the idea of Laswell finding her and just deciding to adopt her. She learns her ticks and tricks easily enough. And reader doesnt really have any visible "dog" features other than her ears, tail, and teeth. Her claws grow a little faster and pointyier than regular humans nails. But like just imagine...

Doberman hybrid!reader needing to have a job at all times, being a working dog she gets antsy and destructive if she's understimulated. Laswell figures that out very early on after a shirt gets chewed up and has to be thrown away.

Doberman hybrid! Reader having hand puzzles and fidget toys on hand at all times to keep her stimulated.

Doberman hybrid! Reader that does laps around base when she's not on a mission. Or she's carrying around extra weight while she does mundane things so she feels useful.

Doberman hybrid! Reader that always waits for instructions before doing anything

Doberman hybrid! Reader that wags the tiny stump of a tail, that hides in her pants, anytime she gets praised, her body immediately relaxes when laswell calls her, her good girl. This gets worse once she meets and starts going with the 141.

Doberman hybrid! Reader that calls laswell mom or mama when they are alone.

Doberman hybrid! Reader that loves head/chin scratches.

Doberman hybrid! reader that wears a ski mask and helmet at all times to hide her ears.

Doberman hybrid! reader that is called anubis around base, most don't even know why they just heard it one day and went with it

Doberman hybrid! reader that has canines that grew in when she was 10 ish, she was teething and had to have so many chew things to help

Doberman hybrid! reader who doesn't really have a heat or period, more like a mixture of the two, it's not as often as a period but not as long as a heat cycle. Reader nests during her cycle and is a little bit more horny than usual. She gets very clingy during this time as well.

When she meets the 141, I imagine it's because some dumbass higher up said that laswell and reader couldn't work together anymore because they are mom and daughter. Even though anyone that knows about r's condition knows the reason they work together is because of r's condition. Like any work dog she needs a knowledgeable handler. When they meet her, they're all intrigued. She's quiet and does everything laswell says without complaint. For this specific reader I think ghost and soap would take one look at her eyes and immediately stake a claim silently. Soap is a bit more vocal about it in subtle ways, ghost is just looming and quiet, but if you know him well enough, like the 141, you can see the possession flickering in his eyes. The only thing is reader wants nothing to do with any of them. When they go on their mission, reader is a little lost, she waits for orders like the good girl she is and price starts getting frustrated with this, he's used to his boys knowing exactly what needs to get done without asking even though for certain reasons he still voices his needs for missions. He tries to understand because she's new to the team but he can't seem to. Eventually he blows up at reader, she cowers and gets that guilty look in her eye even though she didn't do anything wrong per say. Ghost clenched his gun tightly not like the tone price was using, soap was a little less subtle with his anger, he glared a hole into prices head. Gaz tried to get the captain to back and eventually he did but the damage had been done. Soap tried to talk to reader but it wasn't much use. Once they got back to base, reader immediately goes to laswells office, wanting to be comforted by her person. Laswell was beyond pissed when she heard what happened and marched down to John's office to tell him right off. Angry mama bear mode activated. After a few more missions (over a few months), laswell tells the boys what reader is, like maybe they are on a mission and at their safe house. Reader is asleep in a hoodie and a mask. They don't believe her at first untill reader wakes up from a nightmare crying and freaks so she rips her mask off, ears pinned back. Laswell goes over and holds her telling her mama is here. When she falls back asleep, she sets her back down against her bed and gives her a spare t-shirt cause hybrid!reader has a sensitive nose and a comforting scent will help her. Ghost and soap test this later down the road while on mission, they grab an old t-shirt of theirs and give it to asleep reader. She cuddles it and eventually sticks it in her mouth unknowingly, she doesn't chew on it. Laswell taught her better than that, she just let's it sit in her teeth. Once johnny and Simon have her as their girlfriend she just stuffs whatever t-shirt they're wearing to bed, or maybe even fingers (as long as they are clean.)in her mouth when they settle in for the night. Eventually when she moves out of Laswells house and into the boy's she's now going to have to get used to not being the only dog in the house. Riley at first doesn't know how to react to this strange woman that smells of Dog in his home. Reader doesn't know how to act around a dog, the dogs at base usually didn't like her. But eventually they become best friends. She's able to understand what Riley needs most of the time and when they both get antsy they take runs together. Simon's a little mad that his dog stole his girl but he makes her feel better so he guesses its alright. Once they retire, reader doesn't get as antsy anymore mainly because she's stimulated, even if she's not working anymore. She still has her moments but with Simon, Johnny, and Riley all in her life she's got plenty of things to keep her occupied. Even more so if she has some smaller pups running around if you know what I mean... 😏

cw: cuckolding 🫂

all i can think about is virgin!johnny who can't pleasure his girlfriend, so he watches simon fuck your pretty body instead. :(

johnny feels pathetic. he's ashamed to admit the truth — that he's a virgin. watching simon fuck your tight hole relentlessly, your nail raking down his back, leaving red scratches and marks all down his bare, muscular shoulders. his breathless grunts, his guttural groans, and how easily you cum just off of his thick, hard cock. your pretty clit swells with euphoria, dripping with arousal as he runs his leaking tip up and down your wet folds, coating you in his thick, sticky load before easing back inside.

johnny watches with tears coating his cheeks, leaving them raw and flushed, his eyes puffy and his bottom lip quivering while he strokes himself. his balls are achingly tight, painfully sore as he gets himself off to the sight. he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel any envy or bitterness; how simon had you squirting all over his muscular abdomen, how experienced simon truly was.

of course, the sergeant's lieutenant wouldn't miss out on an opportunity to mock and tease the virgin. leaving his load oozing from your swollen, glistening cunt, taunting him for being useless, unable to pleasure his girlfriend.

you'll just have to make him feel better, bonnie. :( when simon's gone and johnny still hasn't came from anticipation and embarrassment, sobbing into your neck, the smell of simon's cologne causing him to grit his teeth through jealousy, feeling shameful while you jerk him off. please, sit on his bare lap, jerk him off while he apologises for being ‘useless’, while shooting blanks as he throws his head back, hot and milky cum dripping from his tip.

Ghosts in the family

Synopsis - aka all the times The Riley siblings have talked about eachother, and all the times Soap should’ve connected the dots but didn’t see the constellation.

cw/tags - MDNI 18+ making out, grinding, no piv or smut guys sorry, swearing, mentions of female anatomy, military inaccuracies, fanon versions of cod characters, threats, mild violence, mentions of guns, innuendos, etc. you’re dealing with grown men in the military that is your warning

Pairing - Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Afab!Riley!Reader, John Price x Riley!Reader (Platonic)

Author's note - Soap is about 26, Reader is 24, Tommy is the name of Simon’s canon younger brother who later scares him with masks and anyways, just beware of that background. Pt.2 of this au, just this just shits and giggles background for later bc I dont know how to flesh out that cliffhanger I left in my Drabble, see you at the bottom! - Moon

Requests are open!

© moonriseoverkyoto 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

1. Simon knew that Johnny’s intention wasn’t to piss him off, but yet he still managed to feel a migraine pool behind his eyes. All day, every mission just asking question after question. Simon wondered if this is what it was like to have a stable home. All he had was you from day one his baby sister. His lips jerk upward before he cuts off the muscle reflex of what we know as a smile. He’d rather keel over and die than let Johnny see his eyes krinkle.

“I have a sister.” He grumbles. Everyone in the truck goes silent. Johnny’s jokes stop, Gaz smirks to himself, even Price manages to watch through the rearview mirror.

“Really? And you waited so long to tell me. Oh my god what’s the like. Oh is she pretty- wait don’t answer that, that’s weird if you agree…” Simon sighs to himself as he tunes out Johnny again. Oh he wishes holiday would come faster.

2. Holiday was tough. Even worse was being stuck alone over holiday break because your only family was stuck in an operation. Especially since you just got the news after putting up Christmas decoration.

“Really Simon? I got football on the telly, your presents are all wrapped” you whined. Simon grinned under his balaclava, oh how he wished he could be there to receive your annual gag gift.

“I know I know I know, assignment came late and everyone else has families to go home to so I just suggested myself-“ he tried to calm you down knowing this would only add gasoline.

“Dammit Si, I’m your family too! Im gonna give you a new buzz cut when you get home at the rate you’re going with all these sudden plans.” Your voice cracked at his name, you know he didn’t mean to break your heart. But Simon couldn’t bare to see Johnny, Price, or Gaz not go home to their big happy families.

“Yeah I know. Im yer brother. No getting out of that one.” He said. “Why don’t you stay with Price again this year. You know he loves you around”

“Because he is the only friend of yours that I’ve met-“

“Yeah you’ll meet the guys someday. promise.”

“Maybe for this holiday present?”

“Maybe.“

“yeah yeah yeah. I love you Si”

“Love you too, and I hope that second date of yours goes well this Friday” oh if only he knew how well that date went with your mysterious Scottish man.

3. “I thought you said you don’t kiss on the second date” Johnny grinned into your lips. Your hands all in his hair.

“Only if they don’t show promise” you remarked back. You could feel his bulge grinding through your pants in the back of this telephone booth. A soft groan leaving his lips as Johnny responded

“Oh so I show promise.” You could practically hear the grin as his lips trailed down your jaw and neck, the slight friction of his scruff following as he moved aside your dogtags.

“Yeah promise that if you don’t hush up, you won’t be getting anything” you quipped back as equally as smug

“Thought you were gonna call that brother of yers” he slurred back as he smelled your perfume. The man practically drooling as your nails trailed down his neck scratching. If he had a tail it’d be whipping the air. A whimper passing through the air as his bulge caught the right part of your fabric rubbing your clit in a delightful direction

“he can wait, I have something else to call for now” you said as you opened the door of the telephone booth and whistled (or yelled if you can’t) as loud as you could do to call a taxi. Johnny had a light in his eye that he never thought would spark until he met you.

Soon you would find out later that Simon actually COULD wait and he did, 12 whole hours he stayed up staring at your apartment door to be let in - fresh on holiday too. Maybe being motormouth’d by Johnny into the window of a hummer didn’t sound so bad now

4. Simon kept a photo of you and him in his pocket everywhere that you went. I mean everywhere. No matter the place. And a lighter too incase he was captured by enemies so as to not compromise his location. But it was a photo from a holiday in France. You were both pillow fighting in the bed. Messy hair, toothless grins, back when Mummy was alive and Daddy hadn’t shown his true colors. Tommy took that picture,. Simon holds it to remind him what he’s fighting for.

“Oh is that yer little sister, she’s missin a few teeth there” Johnny grins looking over the sniper’s shoulder.

“You’re about to miss some bones if you ask about my sister again” Simon growls. fuck. Johnny is the last person he needs around his sister. It’s not like Johnny was a womanizer - he was the opposite. Johnny was perfection. He was from a happy home, a stable home, a place where you wouldn’t have to remember what happened at that old house. It scared Simon to death imagining you forgetting about him. Then he’d really be alone.

“She must’ve gotten the good genes.” Gaz pipes into the coms, what an instigator.

“Wonder what she looks like in jeans” Soap hummed as he cleaned out his gun.

Ghost hummed to himself as he secretly folded up the photo and put it right back in the pocket over his heart. Maybe you could wait another year before meeting them.

Authors note - I made a part 2, this is unedited. Im so tired. I will flesh more of this out before I take another break I promise!! Xoxo - Moon

masterlist

smut is tagged with ☆

harry potter:

call of duty:

könig

first time w könig blurb ☆

sub! könig riding blurb ☆

simon ‘ghost’ riley

rough mission? give your bf some head! ☆

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish

john price

lust for life (professor price x student reader) ☆

alejandro vargas

alejandro vargas x thiccckkkk reader ☆

philip graves

oneshots + hcs

141 + könig react to you wearing thigh highs ☆

141 + könig, alejandro,n rudy with thick thighed s/o

141 + alejandro rudy konig graves with plus size s/o

house m.d:

dr gregory house

robert chase

your houses kid and he just wants to treat u good

james wilson

u just wanna have fun but james is mean :(

clear your mind ☆

allison cameron

house is spying on you, cute lovey dovey w my girl

spider-man atsv:

miguel o’hara

a jealous man ☆

riding miguel drabble ☆

brat ☆

hobie brown

music to his ears ☆

peter b. parker

miles morales

earth 42! miles x reader fluff

pavitr prabhakar

the outer banks:

rafe cameron