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iamjacksragingboner · 4 months

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Johnny's horrific catcalling and borderline harassment that he thinks is flirting

A/N: Going away for a few days to visit family for Christmas, so I will supply you with this first little chapter of the Cowboy Soap fic to keep you fiends satiated. Tried spending a little longer on the writing so hopefully it flows a bit better! Also, this is my first time writing Ghost, so look forward to more of him as he pops in through this fic :)

Clean up people's plates. Wash and dry cups. Pour drinks. Wake up the sorry sod that fell asleep at the bar. Collect tips. Sneak out back to wipe the sweat from your face and smoke.

It was a shift like any other. You sighed, the smoke pluming out in front of you in a tired cloud, then dissipating, and you snuffed the cigarette with the heel of your boot. The afternoon sun beat down on you like a sluggish brute as you smoothed the apron of your smock and stepped back inside, the muffled sounds of clinking glasses and patrons chatting amicably becoming clear once more.

Slinking your way back to the bar, you nodded at a gruff old man who tipped his hat at you, poured him his usual and slid it over to him. In turn, he flicked you a single coin as a tip. It was a relatively slow day in comparison to the usual lively energy of this dusty little inn, and you were thankful for the copious smoke breaks you could cop, thanks to your brother being on shift with you.

The brother in question bumped your shoulder, and your gaze flicked to his figure towering over you, black bandanna covering the lower portion of his face. "You good to handle the place while I pop out for a bit?" Simon asked, putting down the glass he was wiping. "Got an old friend coming into town sometime soon, I wanna go make sure there's a room set up for him upstairs."

You nodded in affirmation, blowing a strand of hair from your face. "Fine by me, 's not like there's anyone here anyway." As proof of this, you gestured to the sparsely filled room, the usual crowd of cowboys having been out for the past week or so. Simon was usually amongst them, but had chosen to stay behind this week, helping you man the tavern so you weren't on your own.

Cowboys were a generally thick bunch, in your opinion. Some of them couldn't tell their dick from their asshole, and you'd dealt with enough drunk and rambunctious cowboys to have a general distaste for the rest of them, no matter how 'intelligent' they claimed to be. All except your brother of course, who was smart enough to co-run the tavern with you, but had enough casual idiocy in him to coexist with other cowboys, yet not entirely enough to bother you completely. In your mind, he was gaining insider info, as it were. You'd never tell him this, however, for fear of copping a playful smack to the side of the head and a night of solo dish duty awaiting the end of your shift.

Simon nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling into a smile—he was never one for many words, often opting for silent looks you had to spend years trying to decipher, even now you have moments where you aren't quite sure what he entirely meant—before he patted you on the shoulder as he passed, walking upstairs to the rooms, kept open for travelers and folks too drunk to walk home. In turn, you picked up where he left off with the dishes, wiping dry mugs and placing them in their respective shelves.

From the little Simon had said and the magnitude that he had alluded through a myriad of looks, his friend—Johnny as he affectionately called him—was a lovely man, despite his cowboy career path. Lively, a bit on the rowdy side of things, but he was sure you and him would get along just fine.

The tavern doors open with a slam that you cringe at—you'd have to check the hinges before you went to bed that night—and in waltzed a troop of unruly looking cowboys, with dust in their hair and hands in their pockets; it wasn't hard to tell they thought they were the shit. They weren't all faces you recognised, but that wasn't all that uncommon—most cowboys tended not to settle in one town for too long, preferring a life of travel that you just couldn't get behind.

They sauntered up to the bar with an air of authority and almost pompousness, as if their very presence in here was something you should marvel at, almost as if they weren't the bane of your existence. Almost. You shouldn’t hate them too much; they provided the majority of the income that kept this tavern alive, even helped build the damn thing, but fuck they could be annoying sometimes.

You served the first two their drinks with as little communication as possible; if they caught you in a conversation, you'd be subject to a half hour's earful of their latest travels that you really didn't feel like listening to.

The third seemed hellbent on making his presence known to you, refusing to prowl over to the tables with the rest of his friends once he'd been served, instead choosing to sit and ogle you as you worked. Which was fine, it wasn't as though you weren't used to men's lecherous eyes linger on your body as you worked; wasn't exactly pleasant, but you never felt particularly unsafe, knowing your brickhouse of a brother was usually close by to scare them off.

What annoyed you was the way he would smirk any time your eyes happened to meet, which was more than once. It didn't help that he was attractive in most senses of the word, so you found yourself stealing glances more than you would have liked. Your eyes grazed along his thick arms, dense with muscle and tanned from days spent in the sun, down to his hands wrapped around his whiskey, and you made quick note of every detail you could make out through stolen glances when you were sure he wouldn't catch you. Dirt under the nails. Gnarled and scarred knuckles. Callouses on his palms. Strong hands. Worker’s hands.

You almost felt guilty, sinful even, admitting this to yourself, but he was a mightily attractive fellow; didn't stop you from shuddering when he caught you eyeing him up, and winked.

"Like what ye see, lass?"

Fuck, even his voice was attractive, an accent you couldn't place and a gravelly, casual tone that you were sure rumbled in his chest like thunder or falling stones when he spoke. You wouldn't ever admit this to him though—too many issues in falling in love with a stupid cowboy, in your opinion. You chose to instead keep your trap shut, and turned your attention to pouring another drink for the grizzled old man at the end of the bar.

"Strong silent type? I like it. Means I get ta haver yer ear off as much as I want. Yer not a bad lookin' lass either, I certainly wouldnae turn down a chance to bed a bonnie like yerself."

And just like that, any inkling of a budding attraction that was forming for this handsome young cowboy disintegrated right in front of your very eyes in an instant. You found yourself chewing the inside of your cheek raw with the effort of not kicking him out of the tavern and banning him from ever stepping foot in here again.

"Ye can call me Soap—it's what the bonnies call me—they say I give the best baths, and my massages after are highly rated too, but ye didnae hear that from me, lass."

Grit your teeth. Breathe in deep. Close your eyes. Turn around and do something else, anything else, just distract yourself for long enough for him to lose interest.

A low wolf whistle when you turned around was what did it, made you whip around with a bottle in hand, held high over your head and poised, ready to crack over his sorry head in that stupid fucking hat and his stupid fucking grin that stupid handsome cu-

"Johnny!"

Simon was thumping down the stairs, and you didn’t think you'd ever heard that amount of sheer joy in his voice. That wasn't what caught your attention however. Your eyes go from Soap—who turned at the mention of the name, a beaming smile plastered on his face—to Simon, who wrapped the man in a bone crushing hug and turned to face you with his arm around Johnny's shoulder. Soap's shoulder. You put the bottle down, for your brother's sake.

"This is Johnny," Simon said, and you could practically feel the sunbeams peaking out from under his bandanna.

Of course it is.

Contrary to your expression of shock, anger and mild embarrassment, Soap was ecstatic. "So this is yer bonnie lass of a sister I've heard so much about!"

Go choke on a tumbleweed and die, cowboy.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #cowboy soap mactavish #cowboy soap #cowboy soap x reader

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ghouljams · 4 months

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Mmmm, jealous 1870s!cowboy!Soap starting a barfight at the saloon bc a guy was being too pushy with his girl 🤭

You hear the glass break before you actually see Johnny's fist crash into the interloper's jaw. You blink at the booze dripping off the strangers face as he struggles to keep his bearings. There's a dark flash in your regular's eyes, one you can't say you'd ever want to see again. You shrink back against your bar when Johnny looks at you. His jaw twitches with how tight he's got it clenched.

"I'll pay for the glass." He rolls up his sleeves and turns his attention back to the man who's rapidly realizing he's just been struck. "Go fetch the doctor, hen, gonna need 'er," He tells you, nodding towards the door. You nod quickly, just quick enough to assure him before he's grabbing the man by the collar to punch again. The way his fist pulls back is hypnotic; the flex of his back and the tightening of his bicep make you hesitate to leave. The spray of blood when he handily breaks the strangers nose sends you out the door.

The conversation you'd had with the stranger rings through your head as cross the street to grab the town doctor.

"It's my bar," You'd corrected when he'd complimented "your husband's" saloon.

"No man lookin' after you, eh?" He'd smirked over his glass. Your eyes had flicked to Johnny asleep against the bar, his glass untouched next to his folded arms. You'd given him a double, sure he'd worked a long day and promised to bring him a meal as quick as you could. He'd hardly waited for the words to leave your mouth before waving you off to sleep. "Bet you like that," The stranger had said, dragging your attention back to him, "bet a woman like you takes every man she can get her hands on."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You'd scowled.

"It means, whatever your rate is I'll pay it," He'd finished his drink, and tacked on for good measure, "haven't had good pussy in months." Before the glass had broken and Johnny was flying at him.

Duck meets you outside her office as a regular goes flying through the saloon doors behind you. She's already got her bag, hustling past you before you can even give her the situation. You give a quick heel turn to follow her, stepping over the Johnson boy with a half apologetic shrug when he groans and rolls onto his side. Duck holds the door open for you, her mouth in a hard line as you both watch blood drip off Johnny's knuckles.

His chest heaves with breaths as he stands over the unconscious body of the man who'd insulted you. Although you wouldn't recognize the stranger now, you'd guess he's missing a few teeth, and his cheeks puff around a broken jaw. One of his compatriots is strewn over a nearby table with a broken arm slung at an odd angle behind his back. You grimace at the turned over chairs and spilled drinks.

Johnny wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the sweat with the blood on his hand. Duck shakes her head and pushes past him to treat his unconscious victims.

"Fuck did you do to 'im?" The doctor asks, crouching and pulling different gauze and instruments out of her bag.

"Nothin' he didn't deserve," Johnny reasons, rolling his shoulders back with a soft pop and a low groan. Something low in the pit of your stomach clenches tight and warm when he looks over his shoulder at you. You squeeze your hands into fists and push through the chaos to get something high proof for the doctor to clean up with.

"There's a bed upstairs," You tell the room, pouring a tall glass of something clear and strong enough to strip paint, "if you want to finish your nap before the sheriff shows up."

You set the glass on the bar and let yourself meet Soap's eye. He's got a cut bleeding on his brow and a hell of a shiner starting to purple on his cheek, but he smiles at you brilliantly. You look away to find a broom and starting cleaning up his mess. You know he'll find his way to your rooms, and you'll have to pull him out of your bed despite there being plenty of open guest rooms. You know too that later you'll push your face against the pillow and try to find the lingering scent of his soap.

Folks in town know better than to get pushy with you when your dog is around, but strangers always take the gamble.

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wrestlingwithlife · 9 months

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Task Force 141 Boys with Cowboy (Head canons)

Decided I’d write some head cannons for Cowboy!Reader with our main boys either that haven’t written about yet or have but are so cute I wanted to reiterate <3

Task Force 141 x Cowboy!Reader

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Soap :

#1 hype man fr 🗣️🗣️

Absolutely obsessed 😍

Will literally find any excuse to get Y/n to talk just to hear his accent

After watching Ghost get man handled by him he actually begged Y/n to spar with him

Looks up southern stuff to say to Y/n

“Y/n, will you take me to a Honkytonk? 🥺”

He tries his best but at this point he’s just doing it to get a reaction

Stumbled across the song “F***** by a Country Boy” and thought all country music was like that

Couldn’t look Y/n in the eye with hearing it in his head for a solid week

Never sleeps better then when his head is in Y/n’s lap

Literally will sleep like a rock

Soap is usually the one who falls asleep on Y/n

He didn’t realize how cuddly Y/n actually was until after one fateful night

Soap had came to watch old murder files with the southern male one night

Y/n fell asleep on Soap’s shoulder, slumbering silently

When Soap went to lean forward to grab his water he was yanked back into Y/n

Y/n bear hugged him to his chest and refused to let him go

Soap cherished that moment for the rest of forever

Added ‘Save a horse ride a cowboy’ to his Instagram bio

Has def stolen Y/n hat and tried it on

Y/n didn’t have the heart to tell him about the hat rule

But he’ll handle it eventually~

Absolute thigh guy

Has been caught staring so many times

Does not care

Continues to stare 👀

Has asked Y/n to crush him between his thighs

Y/n thought he was joking

He was not

#relatable

Ghost :

Absolutely whipped

Won’t even deny it if someone calls him out

He’s all about that Honkytonk Badonkadonk🤠

When Y/n says a word or phrase he doesn’t understand he just nods along until the male walks away, in which he will whip out his phone and immediately search it up

When Y/n mentioned there were times he missed his horses he made it his personal mission to find horses for him to pet

Ended up finding a place nearby that did horse therapy

He and Y/n both went and they absolutely loved it

The horses absolutely adored Y/n and smothered him with love

The southern male was happy to reciprocate

Ghost took a picture of it and now it’s his Lock Screen

Ghost was nervous the horses weren’t going to like him

Most animals don’t like his mask

Was elated when he realized the horses didn’t care about it

They really started to love him when Y/n showed Ghost how to feed them

Ghost was in heaven

He grew particularly fond of an old shire mare

She was all white and covered in scars but she was so impossibly gentle for her massive size

The worker said they called her Big Mama and she’d was a retired logging horse that had been rescued from going to slaughter

She adored Ghost and followed him everywhere

The workers explained she had a knack for taking the more nervous horses and animals on the ranch under her wing and making them feel a safe

Ghost almost cried when he hugged her 🥺

Now where Soap liked to sleep on Y/n, Ghost prefers to have Y/n sleep on him

Was laying in bed with Y/n one night while scrolling through his phone

Y/n was already snoozing 😴

Ghost went to put his phone on the nightstand only to get yanked back

Bro was shocked

Y/n snatched him back, burrowing under his arm

Almost cried again 🥹

Price :

Absolutely adores Y/n southern culture

Has a little notebook where he keeps stuff he learned from Y/n written down 🖊️

Occasionally uses southern slang around Y/n but unlike Soap he’s completely serious

Except the word Ain’t

He refuses to say that

When he finds out Y/n feels homesick he does everything he can to help

Gets Y/n all his favorite things

Favorite candies, books, flowers, even got Y/n a cow stuffie when he talked about missing his animals

Y/n put it next to his horse stuffie he got him last week

Price is a good cook but he doesn’t usually have the urge to do it that often

But when Y/n talked about a dish from his home town he missed??

Price spent two day’s learning how to make it and getting the stuff

Whipped that shit up like freaking master chef

The cowboy was elated and gave Price the most bone crushing hug

Snuck a little cheek kiss in there too 💋

Price’s cheeks turned pink so fast

I’m just going to say it…

Has drunk made out with Y/n before 🤯

The two got absolutely turnt on whiskey and just went for it

They never spoke about it after that but when they get close they still think about it

Price misses how the American male tastes

Something definitely awoke in him the day that he watched Y/n ride that mechanical bull

In a game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ Y/n would Marry Price a hundred times over

I mean, me too 😍

Tried southern Cajun food that Y/n made once and his heart almost stopped

It tasted good and then all of a sudden everything was on fire

Did better at holding his spice then Soap tho so 10/10

Y/n’s go to after solo missions

Y/n will stumble into his office all tired and instead of pulling up a chair just plops on the floor and leans his head on Price’s leg

Price just plays with his hair while he finishes paper work

He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t occasionally wander with how close Y/n was to his nether regions 😜

Gaz :

Trails Y/n like a puppy 🐶

I mean this boy hangs off his every word

If Y/n ever has to run an errand off the base you best believe Gaz will be going with him

Also looks up southern slang to understand Y/n better

Also listened to “F***** by a Country Boy” and couldn’t look Y/n in the eyes for a solid week

Always offers to help Y/n when he works out

Sometimes gets distracted when he’s spotting but no one can blame the poor boy

Acts of service is def his love language ❤️

Demands to know the names of every animal Y/n owns

Made a playlist of songs that Y/n mentioned he liked

Listens to it constantly

Likes to ‘help’ Y/n cook

Really just hands him stuff that Y/n asks for

Handles the spices the best out of any of them

When it’s just the two of them going out for whatever reason he’ll just grab onto Y/n somehow

Holding a hand, the hem of a jacket or shirt, or intertwining their arms

Y/n is happy to reciprocate

People will come up to Gaz while Y/n is distracted and compliment how cute of a couple they are

Just thanks them and doesn’t deny it ever

Sleeps in Y/n’s bed more then his own

Y/n will be working at his desk and Gaz will just wander in in and plop onto his bed to sleep

If Y/n takes to long Gaz will sigh loudly till he gets the hint

Always fights Soap for Y/n’s lap on movie nights

Besides Price he’s probably got the best sense of self control

He ain’t perfect though

Is Y/n isn’t watching him he is LOCKED ON

Always locked onto those cheeks 🥵

His mind does tend to wander

Y/n could ask Gaz to fake his death and run away with him and Gaz would do it in a heartbeat

#task force 141 #cod x male reader #cod x reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod gaz #cod x cowboy!reader #cowboy!reader

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ethereal-night-fairy · 1 month

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A Lick and a Promise

Chapter 1

Outlaw!Ghost x Female Reader x Outlaw!Soap

You let devils into your home. But why were they kinder than the saints in your town?

Warnings: MDNI, Arson, crude historical language (not by Ghoap), objectification (not by Ghoap), religious themes, small bit of fluff, period typical misogyny, kidnapping, implied physical abuse, sad backstory, implied theft, sorry if I missed any.

A Lick and a Promise Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Fire…there was fire engulfing the town you were meant to call home. Flames erupted from the trees like the gates of hell had been opened. From where you are, you see the flames lick and dance around the wooden buildings as the horses race away from the chaos that was unfolding. The smell of fiery damnation was cementing itself into your mind, it engraved itself onto your skin like a branding. Everything hurt…

Hot air whipped against your bruised and beaten flesh while you continued to struggle on the horse you were forced on. The smoke stings. You hear their screams in the growing distance as the mayor's home is surrounded by dark clouds of smoke. Why? Why was this happening? Why did they take it so far?

You keep twisting your head back to watch from you were forced to ride with the men you foolishly helped the week prior. You continue watching as tears stream down your face. His arms are as tight as a vice despite you pounding your hands back on his thighs. He doesn't let go, he doesn't even flinch no matter how many times you scream, beg or hit him. Your small home grows further away by the second. The little life you built for yourself shattered in the time it takes to saddle a horse with stolen goods. The fast movements of the horse jerks you uncomfortably as you clench onto whatever you can to steady yourself. Everything was becoming too much, the screams, the fire, the smell of burning, the pain, your pain. Your eyes burn into the back of the man with the skull face. Never in your life have you seen a man beat another bloody like he had. The worst part was you felt relieved when it had happened. You felt safe with them even if that feeling only lasted briefly. But why did they want to protect you? Why did they care?

You had let devils enter your home. But these devils were kinder than the saints in town, yet you were deceived by their kindness. They took you without remorse. You don't know why you thought just because these two men were soft to each other that perhaps they'd be good people, perhaps they wouldn't hurt you like everyone else did. You should never have helped them. You should have told them to leave the second they had awoken. Look at where your kindness has gotten you. Kidnapped and probably on the road to your demise. You've become an outlaw by association. What were they going to do with you? Whore you out for money? Sell you to a ranch? Have their fun with you only to leave you drowned in a stream? Was their kindness just a ruse so you'd agree to help them in return for safety?

But in the back of your mind you wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart, that they weren't going to hurt you. That they were too kind to do that. Yet you'd be foolish to trust outlaws on the run again. They had dragged you to damnation with them. Now the whole town hates you even more than before. It won't be long until your face begins being printed on wanted posters…

-The week prior

The blazing sun was gradually making its way further up from the horizon. The sunshine beamed down on the river, making the blue water glitter and gleam on the surface as you watched on. The birds chirped as you enjoyed the warmth of the weather bestowed upon you.

Cold water prickles your hands as you tug the rope to gather the fish traps you had laid in the river yesterday. Thankfully it seemed heavy this time around. You’ll be able to make something for the poor men burning with fevers on your mattress. You hadn't wanted to leave them alone but you had work to do. You needed to gather water for their horses and collect your traps. The small vegetable patch also needed watering so you'd probably have to make another trip round to the river.

Once the dripping basket is in your hands you haul it to the riverbed, struggling as the fish jump around in the woven material. It takes a couple minutes for the movement to finally stop. You deposit all of your catch which consists of a handful of freshwater prawn, three haddock and some anchovies. You gut the fish using the river water to clean off the blood. You hated doing this part but it wasn't like you had anyone to help you anymore.

You missed your parents dearly. Well your mother was dead there's no bringing her back but you wished your daddy would find his way back home to clear his name. That he’ll explain that everything was a misunderstanding and he didn't take anyone's money. He wasn't that kind of man you knew that. He always taught you how to work for an honest living. He lived like that for as long as you can remember. There was no way he ran off with the mayor's money. Yet you had no way to prove his innocence since he disappeared.

Once you're done you place everything in a bucket and carry both the fish and the water back to your little home. You've been struggling to gather game for a couple weeks now, the majority of the traps you'd set were often tampered with or stolen by the time you got back to them. You've resorted to fishing for the time being. You wished the townspeople wouldn't hate you so much. They had already kicked you out of your town home. And returning to your old town was out of the question. It was miles away and you didn't trust anyone in town to take you there, you also didn't have the money to pay them. And you were still hopeful your daddy would return one day.

You're deep in thought on how you're going to prepare for the coming winter when two horses race by you. You halt in fear as you try to make sense of what was happening while trying to clear your vision of dirt. When the dust finally settles your met with two piercing eyes of what looks to be a sheriff of a different town. His uniform is pristine, his bright badge gleams in the morning sun almost blinding you. He has a stern look to him. By the looks of his white hair you'd think he's much older than he is.

“Little lady you shouldn't be out so far out of town by yourself! There's two outlaws on the loose, haven't you heard!?” You take in his stern tone, your mind racing with the information he's just given you. But before you can answer the older gentleman the person beside him speaks up. The voice is jarring as it cuts through your eardrums, bringing back awful memories. It belonged to a man you so unfortunately recognised.

“Don't bother with her sheriff, she's a twofer (loose women). You couldn't make an honest woman out of her even if you tried. She's better off dealing with outlaws by her own self,” all you can do is glare as you take in the hardened face of the mayor's brother. You hadn't realised that he had become a deputy. It's been so long since he's come bothering you, you'd hope he had died of dysentery. You feel bad for the woman in his town. He's probably already abusing the authority he's been given. The sheriff is stunned into silence but before you can defend yourself from the now balding Calvin, he opens his big mouth again.

“I wouldn't be surprised if she was stealing from the town again, just like her old man eh. Did he ever come back darlin’ or is he still on the run? Have ye resorted to selling your backside for some extra dollars? I wouldn't be surprised if you did,” he lets out a boastful laugh eyeing your patched up dress.

“I told you you'll regret rejecting my marriage proposal. Wouldn't marrying me have been better than trying to become my brothers left handed wife (mistress) eh? What? I didn't have enough money to satisfy you? You're no better than a trug (low class prostitute). Won't be long until I see you working at the bed-house. I might even take pity on you and try you out for night,” he smirks down at you from his horse as you try to avoid his leering gaze.

Tears obstruct your vision but you try to keep them at bay. You wanted to call him every name in the book for saying all these baseless accusations about you. But he was a beef headed ten cent man who enjoyed tormenting women, especially those who reject his advances. You weren't the first and you wouldn't be the last to deal with his god awful lecherous behaviour.

“Pull in your horns Calvin! That's no way to talk to a lady!”, the sheriff buts in.

“She's no lady sheriff, a trat (pretty girl) maybe but she's a filthy con. One that likes to toll (to entice) men for money,” Calvin continues his rant in spite.

“Stop airin’ your lungs. Excuse us ma’am we'll be on our way then,” though the sheriff was polite you could see the look of what seemed to be distaste in his eyes as he took in your figure and worn out clothing before leaving. They quickly turn their horses in the direction of the town with Calvin mirthfully laughing along the way.

You're left standing there as you try to collect yourself before returning home.

-at the house

"urgh!...", Simon woke in a fright, sweat was pooling from every pore in his body. He frantically looked around the room trying to figure out where he was. It took a while for his memories of the night before to return. His muscles screamed in pain as he fought to try to move them but they weren't cooperating. His body felt hot and sweaty, like his skin was sunburnt. The sun was setting, his eyes squinted as the dwindling sunshine streamed down from the only window. Damn they were meant to leave before dawn. A whole day had gone by. He feels around his face making sure his bandana was still on before looking over at Johnny. His bandana was still on too. You hadn't tried taking it off. The only difference was that two wet cloths were placed on both of their foreheads and a chipped bowl full of water next to the mattress on the floor. Had you nursed them all day? Where were you now?

"Johnny?... Johnny wake up....," Simon sat up with difficulty calling out Johnny's name but he stayed asleep. Simon felt his forehead before ringing out the cloth and dipping it in the water to reapply. This wasn't good. He's burning up… He needed to get up to look for some yarrow Simon thought to himself. It'll help reduce their fever and then they'll be able to leave as soon as possible. The sheriff might have already made it into town. Simon prayed you hadn't met him. This puts them in a very dangerous situation. Simon sits up with great difficulty as the wound on his arm flairs up with pain. But before he can attempt to stand the door opens gingerly. He freezes when he sees you.

Your eyes meet each other and Simon is too stunned to speak. Your eyes are swollen and red, like you've been crying for some time now. He watches you try to hide the tears by looking away and wiping them hastily. A sudden surge of worry and anger fills his body. Who? Who made you cry? Who dared to hurt you?

Yet when he opens his mouth to demand a name the smell of something delicious wafts through the air making his stomach growl unintentionally. You speak up in a whisper before he can, now fully facing him again with a small smile.

“Food is almost ready, I found some yarrow to help with the fever too. I hope your okay with some fish and vegetable soup. I'm sorry I know it isn't much. But it was the best I could do. I'll make you some tea with the yarrow after you finish eating.” Simon hadn't noticed but you carried a small bundle of yarrow in your fidgety hands as you continued whispering trying to not to wake Johnny or possibly trying to prevent him from asking about why you were crying. He'll find out anyway even if it wasn't going to be from your mouth. Why would anyone hurt someone as sweet as you? You almost seemed too good to be true.

“Yes, thank you. Any food is much appreciated, we aren't picky eaters. This is way more than we deserve,” Simon watches you smile so genuinely at his response that it baffles him. All he did was speak politely to you yet you smile like he had plucked stars from the sky. The thing he didn't know was that no one in town has spoken kindly to you in a very long time. So anyone talking to you even if it was normally was something you cherished greatly.

“It'll be done soon. I just needed to grab some salt. Oh.. and I gave your horses some water I hope you don’t mind that I went near them.”

“That's offly kind of you. I'm more surprised they let you near,” Simon grunts as he watches you grab what you need. That being some salt and another pot probably to boil the tea for later. Your dress had patches all over it, probably from you fixing it with whatever fabric you had laying around. The more he looked at you the more he realised how much you were struggling to obtain the bare necessities for living. Yet you remained so kind and generous. Why?...

“Ah it's no trouble at all, they let me pet them so I'm happy with that…Oh! we'll have to patch your wounds again. Let me go get some sterilised water for you!”, you say gazing at his now bloody arm. The stitches must have opened up while he was trying to move. You smile at him on your way out. You could definitely use some more meat on your bones. You really weren't living a good life out here. Yet you were so kind to feed them and their horses. They'd make sure to leave you behind enough money to sustain you for a couple years. It's the least they could do after all you've done for them.

That reminds Simon he needs to do a parameter check on your house. He'll have to ask you about the sheriff too. But it looked like you were isolated from the town. It was either this or that you rarely went into town for your own reasons. News travels fast, especially in frontier towns. Though it seemed like this was one of the bigger ones. He was glad you would probably be the last person to receive the news. That just meant they could spend a couple days with you without you being afraid of them. And they could leave before you were even given a chance to report them to the sheriff.

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wxnheart · 1 year

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𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

note: the idea for this came up out of the blue and I was encouraged to write it so here you go. the premise is simple: what picture of your significant other do you have as your lock screen? as always, I hope y'all enjoy it! And now we have the sequel!

Captain John Price - About as sickeningly sweet vanilla as you can get. Your lock screen is a picture of him geared up, signature hat on, holding a lit cigar, and smiling at the camera like he won the lottery. You always told him his smile was radiant. Seeing him smile makes your day.

Gaz - Your lock screen is a picture of him hard at work. He's reading something and boy, is he concentrating hard. He doesn't believe you when you tell him that he scrunches his nose up while he's thinking. Well, now you have proof.

Soap - You swoon every time your phone lights up. It's a photo of him flexing one arm, smiling, and winking into the camera. You managed to get him after he finished working out and getting those gains. You also may or may not have jumped his bones right after taking said pic. Gah, you fucking love this man...

Ghost - LMAO. So you were trying to be discreet about it (emphasis on the word trying) and capture Ghost just standing there, gun in his hands, minding his business. Menacingly. Motherfucker got your ass because just as soon as you pressed the button, he looked right at you. So now you have a picture of Ghost standing there, gun in hand, minding his business and glaring staring at you. Menacingly. Reactions to your lock screen are either "Holy shit, who the FUCK is that?" or "Wow, he looks cool." You can only sigh adoringly every time you see it. That's Babygurl for you.

Alejandro Thee Stallion - You have a picture of him running a hand through his hair with his eyes closed. No, it isn't intentional; he was actually scratching his head. BUT, it was just the perfect moment and hell yeah, you rejoiced when you got it! He looks modelesque and orgasmic in it. You showed it to Rudy and now Alejandro is wondering why Rudy looks like he wants to laugh every time he sees him.

Rudy - It's actually a picture of you and him together being all cute and shit. And that actually wasn't your first choice. It was originally a picture of him knocked the hell out, bundled up in his favorite blanket, and having the best nap of his life. He looks so boyishly cute when he sleeps. Rudy actually had to put on the puppy dog eyes so you wouldn't make that your lock screen because he's had that blanket as long as he's known Alejandro (who has also seen said blanket) and apparently there's a betting pool going around in Los Vaqueros around the fact that Rudy has yet to get rid of it. It's a long story.

König - You actually have a picture of him sitting down against a wall, arms on his knees looking cool as a cucumber. He's really just chillin', taking in the atmosphere, and staring into space. Looks badass doing it, too. His eyes are pretty entrancing and the picture really puts into perspective how tall König is because he absolutely does not look it when he's sitting down. You also realized that he likes to make himself comfortable in confined spaces. Huh. Wonder if he's aware of that, too. He caught a glimpse of your lock screen by accident and whether you know it or not, he's flattered that he's the first thing you see when you look at your phone.

Phillip Graves - You got a picture of him doing his best Zoolander impression (Blue Steel, y'all) because you forgot to turn the flash off. Whoops. Don't you dare show that to the rest of Shadow Company. Spoiler Alert: You... kinda-sorta-really do. Whoops.

Valeria Garza - One word. Badass. She looks like a fucking badass on your lock screen. Those toned arms and tattoos are out for the world to see. Windswept tresses. And she's smirking at you, too? Oh, baby! You're falling in love all over again.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #konig #könig #phillip graves #valeria garza #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader #los vaqueros #task force 141 #just 141 things.#ride 'em cowboy!

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marzylics · 5 months

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I like as a society we've all agreed that konig dick is massive

#9 FUCKING INCHES #peter the horse is here #save a horse ride a cowboy #konig mw2 #konig smut #konig call of duty #konig x reader #soap mw2 #cod mw3

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pricesbeltbuckle · 4 months

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i needed to share this because who else but you

i cant stop thinking of cowgirl reader and soap together such an odd couple but oh does it feel right (kinda self insert im sorry😓)

Ride Cowgirl, Ride - John 'Soap' Mactavish

You know what anon you’re onto something…I love this dynamic. Pairing: John 'Soap' Mactavish x Fem!Cowgirl Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff

When Soap told the 141 boys he had a girlfriend they all expected a city girl or even another scottish girl.

So when you walked in in your little denim shorts with a tank top and a flannel to cover it topping it off with some cowgirl boots and pigtails with bows at the end it’s the least to say that everyone was shocked.

When they all asked where you were from and you responded in a thick country accent “Oh I'm from Texas!” They all knew they were in for a treat when they heard that accent.

When soap would talk to you and they could all hear you respond it was so fascinating to hear the difference.

“I swear John could talk the hide off a cow.”

“What does that even mean?” Is exactly Gaz’s first question

“Means I talk alot mate.” Because you had taught soap your slang around 5 months ago he's been used to it.

They all automatically ask the same question “Do you have a pet horse and can we learn how to ride it?”

“Yes I do! Her name is Peanut and yeah I can bring her round here sometime for you fellas.”

One time further down the line when Ghost pissed you off you just yelled at him “Pull in your horns!!” and he looked at you like “🤨”

“Means back off Simon!!” You’d both hear Soap yell from down the hall as he was holding up your favorite snack you ran towards him

“Aw John! I’m as happy as a flea in a dog house!” You’d take the snack from him and skip down the hall somewhere else to see someone else around the base

“She was just hungry, sorry Simon.”

Now I think Price would understand some of your slang just cause he’s a bit of a cowboy so sometimes you’d have conversations with him.

I genuinely think soap is so fascinated with the fact you can ride a horse that sometimes he’ll just watch you and I mean he’ll sit there for hours and watch you for no reason.

He has probably pissed you off once and you got all mad at him southern style and he backed off after that and bought you some flowers and some new bows for your hair.

He flexes you off while off on deployment. if he’s on an undercover mission and a lady hits on him all he’ll say is “Are you a cowgirl who has a horse named Peanut? No? Then keep moving, Lass.”

Has probably picked up on your slang while on missions

“Quit yer yammerin'.” “Johnny what?” “It means shut up.” Was a genuine conversation he had over the coms with Ghost.

I def wanna do more with this maybe make an AU IDK AHHHH

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 3 months

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Can we talk about Ghost x Southern!Reader? Like just Ghost, British lad being like: "This is my significant other" and it's just this cowboy/cowgirl being like "howdy y'all" and when they fight it's suddenly like 1773 with the Reader throwing Ghost's tea into the sink😂

I just have this vision in my head of Ghost at Chicago airport being like "I won't fly back to Britain with you lads, my partner (yeehaw) is coming to get me" and the biggest pickup truck with these bull horns in front (no idea what's it called) shows up and a person wearing a literal cowboy hat steps out n kisses this man. And Soap thinks it's a joke but then Ghost's S/O pulls out pics of Simon on a fucking horse, looking incredible uncomfy even though he's wearing his mask - with the S/O's hat on top of his mask for shits n' giggles.

#Soap: “You can ride?”#Ghost: “Nope.”#Reader: “Not a horse that's for sure.”#i know Southerners aren't all cowboy hat wearing ppl but let me have a funny thought ok #cod #ghost x reader #simon riley

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renegadecantlife · 5 months

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Platonic Outlaw/Cowboy!Simon 'Ghost Riley X young orphaned reader.

Outlaw Simon, who's known in the 141 gang for disappearing for extended periods of time, find himself stumbling across a young orphan on his travels and despite his better judgment takes them in so they dont starve or freeze through the night. Come daybreak, he takes them to the nearest town where he intends to drop them off, except.. they wont let go. So the infamous Ghost finds himself reluctantly adopting the small child.

A little brain worm idea for any of you CoD AU writers out there o>o

#cod mw2 #call of duty #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #cod 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #konig x reader #john price #john 'soap' mactavish #kyle 'gaz' garrick #kate laswell #konig #horangi #philip graves #cowboy!ghost

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iamjacksragingboner · 4 months

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy Pt. 2

Chapter 1

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: None

A/N: Chapter two is finally here! Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate, and hope NYE is just as good! I’m not home from holiday yet but apparently that didn’t stop me from writing a little whenever I could on holiday. Hope you enjoy this chapter as they get a little more familiar with each other :3 Reblogs appreciated!! <3

Horrific first impressions aside, you were ready to embrace this Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish character as one of your own. Sure, you had been mere moments from cracking him over the head with a bottle and feeding him by hand to the vultures, but if Simon could put up with him then you could too. Perhaps you had just caught him on a bad day.

You shook his hand amicably, choosing to ignore the way he winked at you and held onto your hand just a little too long for your liking, having to practically wrench your hand out from his grip. You stood with an albeit strained smile on your face as Simon, in one of his rare moods for excited talking, regaled tales of him and Soap out on horses in towns further from here than you could ever imagine. You even politely offered to bring Soap’s dinner up to his room later for him, after he complained that his ass was aching from sitting on a horse for too long.

“Ah, maybe I can teach ye some of my trade secret massage techniques to use on me, aye lass?” He copped a swift smack on the head from Simon for that comment, and you took a smoke break.

With the sun setting before you, smoke from your cigarette tiredly billowing in front of you, the chatter from the bar dying out, you sighed. Sliding down with your back on the wall to sit in the dirt, you ran your hand through your hair.

You enjoyed keeping yourself busy; kept you from thinking too much. But in those quiet moments where you snuck off to smoke, you sometimes found comfort in the way your brain still seemed to careen with life, even in silence. At the moment, it seemed to be fixated on your parents, and the tavern they left to you and your brother in their passing.

You were so young then.

Don’t think about it.

The faint sound of a glass smashing was what dragged you back to earth, back into the bar, broom in hand and smoke still whispering its way from your lips. You swept mindlessly, still not all present. You had failed to recall the other times, where the silence was hostile, would bite and claw its way into your sides and sink its teeth in like a parasite.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you felt someone walk just a little too close behind you, and you weren’t at all surprised to look up and see that it was Soap that had invaded your space. You slid uncomfortably back into reality.

“Here, lemme help ye with that one, lass.” Before you could even begin to say you didn’t need help with sweeping, Soap was already on his knees in front of you. Continuing the theme of doing things before you could tell him not to, he was scooping the glass into his bare hands, and then immediately hissing as blood began to weep from a cut on his finger.

You rolled your eyes and propped the broom up on the wall beside you, before kneeling down with Soap. “Stupid,” you muttered, before gently ridding his hands of the glass and clutching his injured one in your own. “What were you expecting, picking up broken glass with your bare hands like that.”

Soap shrugged, his eyes glued on your face instead of his bleeding hand, a detail which you avidly ignored. “Dunno,” he said simply, and you thought he was finished—any other cowboy would end the conversation there, stick with the fact that they don’t know jack and be on their merry way. Unfortunately, Soap wasn’t any other cowboy. “Could ye kiss it better for me, bonnie?”

You dropped his hand with a curt “you’re fine,” and averted your attention to the glass on the floor, sweeping it into a dish rag to take outside, Soap’s cackles accompanying you out the door.

Just as you finish dumping the glass where no one would step on it, you were greeted once a with Soap as you turned around.

“Was only jokin’, lass,” he says with a smirk that told you he probably wasn’t. “Don’t get yer panties in a knot, ‘sides, already got the whole talk from yer brother.” He placed a hand over his heart and spoke solemnly, “I’m not ta touch a hair on yer wee bonnie head, else Ghost’ll never ride with me again.” He began to saunter up to you, hands in his pockets and his head at an annoying tilt that feigned innocence.

Like a dog.

“I know ye were mighty excited at the prospect of gettin’ that massage from me, maybe even gettin’ a little somethin’ else.” He circled you, like he was sizing you up, seeing if you were fit to eat. “But alas, we’re out of luck.” A large, rough hand placed on your shoulder, not yet a threat, but enough of a presence that it could quickly become one if he wanted it to—they were hands that he knew how to use. “Although…”

More like a wolf, or a coyote. Big teeth.

You brushed off his hand with a little more haste than you intended. “Sorry,” you said, a bitter glare burning from your eyes but not quite seeming to register in his, “but I’m not interested. Your room is upstairs, two doors down, on the right.” You patted him on the shoulder in a not quite friendly, but not quite aggressive kind of way, and headed into the bar to start closing up.

Simon caught you just as you were bidding goodbye to the last few stragglers to leave, a plate of food in his hands. “Oh, I’ve already eaten, Si, but thank you,” you said, warmly.

“Oh, this ain’t for you,” Simon chuckled, and flicked his head to the ceiling. “‘s for Johnny—you said you’d bring it up to him. I would, but I’ve got my hands full with matters outside.”

Cowboy matters, you were sure. Riveting stuff. The speed at which the smile dropped from your face was surely record breaking. You took the plate from his hands and bid your brother goodnight, feeling at the very least glad that he was in a good mood. Regardless of whether that mood had anything to do with the cowboy upstairs, Simon being happy was a good thing.

Biting back any reservations you had towards interacting with that fiend again, you climbed trepidatiously up the stairs to Soap’s room. You stood in front of the door, searching inside yourself for any ounce of kindness. He had been nothing but unpleasant to be around any time you spoke, but surely, surely he had to be at least semi decent for Simon to think so highly of him.

You knocked and you waited.

And waited.

For a moment you thought, with a little glee, that perhaps he had gone and died, but much to your chagrin, he opened the door.

“Sorry ta keep ye waitin’, lass. Was just putting’ my clothes back on—didn’t wanna startle ye.” Soap was stood in the doorway, looming over you like some sort of predator, with a smirk on his face that said he’d like to do much more than startle you. He was sweating too, the gross hound.

“Dinner,” you said, simply, offering up the plate to him with the most polite expression you could muster, under the current circumstances. Your eyelid twitched.

Soap’s attention seemed to flick immediately to the food before him, and he lit up, rubbing his hands in glee. “Och yer an angel, ‘m bloody starvin’, come in, come in.” He ushered you into the room as if he were some sort of welcoming host and you were his eager guest.

Each guest room in the tavern was laid out much the same. A double bed, a table with two chairs and a bucket with some water and a rag, in case whoever was in there wanted to wash. You pressed yourself flat against the closed door as Soap set the plate down on the table nearby, breath hitching in pain as he did so. Your brows furrowed in concern.

“Everything alright there?” You asked, trying to be civil. You wished you hadn’t.

Soap clutched his finger and let out a wailing mockery of pain, catching you completely off guard. “Woe is me! My poor finger, lass! Still it weeps in pain and anguish!”

“Will you keep it down!” you hissed, eyes wide and alert as you rushed to him. “There are people trying to sleep here! Besides, it’s just a tiny cut, you’re fine.”

“Ohh but it’s not fine! I need a little kiss on my wound from a lovely bonnie lass to heal my ails and raise my spirits! Please oh please will ye kiss it better?”

You startled, coming to the abrupt realisation that perhaps this was the reason Simon liked the guy—he was kinda funny (if you squinted real hard and stood at a distance). You chuckled, finding a smile on your lips for the first time since you began interacting with him, and shushed him like a child. “Okay, okay, but only if you promise to keep it down.”

The grin on Soap’s face could have melted glaciers. It wasn’t a bad look, and you were struck with the thought that if he never opened his mouth to speak again, maybe he could be attractive. He was practically glowing as he thrust his finger towards you, wrapping it in your hands. His hand was warm. “Of course, lass, I promise, cowboy’s honour and all that—just give it a wee smooch for me.”

You scoffed but obliged anyway. ‘What’s the harm in entertaining him anyway,’ you thought, raising his finger to your lips.

It was much more intimate of an act than you anticipated—the way he seemed to fall completely silent, not even breathing, in fact you weren’t even sure if you yourself were breathing. The way his finger felt, cushioned against your pouting lips, the way he could have stuck his finger in your mouth so easily if he had chosen to. The way he seemed to shudder, as you kissed his finger, as if this alone was pleasure enough for him.

You let go of his hand the minute if felt too intimate for you, laughing dismissively. “Stupid,” you murmured, averting your gaze.

Soap, on the other hand, was thrilled. He held his hand close to his heart, muttered “I’ll never wash my finger again,” and pressed it to his own lips, making sure to look directly at you.

“That was foul,” you said simply.

“Cannae believe we just had our first kiss!”

“That was not a kiss, that was me kissing your finger and then you kissing your finger after.”

“We’re practically married now, bonnie!”

“You’re insane.”

“D’ye think ol’ Ghost’ll officiate our wedding?”

“You’re delusional. Eat. Your food’s getting cold.”

Soap moved to the table and gestured to the chair opposite his. “Sit! We can have our first meal together as husband and wife,” he exclaimed, propping his chin on his hands like an eager child.

You shook your head, a faint smile still lingering on your lips despite your still remaining reservations about the man before you. “No, Soap, I’m okay. I really should be getting to bed now.”

Soap’s brow furrowed, and for once you saw an emotion on his face other than a smug, confident grin. It startled you, if only a little. “Come on, lass, just stay for a little, I’ll even feed ye some if ye want?”

“Goodnight, Soap.” You turned to leave, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. You did not turn to face him. You would not.

“Please, lass. Stay. I just…”

“Goodnight. Soap.” You brushed his hand off, leaving before he could think of a way to finish his sentence, before you could see the way his lips downturned. Your bed was cold that night, and you dreamt of Soap finishing his cold meal on his own, and lying down in his own cold bed. In another world, maybe you could have found it in yourself to regret it.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #Slow burn #slow burn romance #save a horse ride a cowboy #soap mactavish #cowboy soap x reader #cowboy soap mactavish

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ghouljams · 4 months

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A Sinner in the Hands of John Mactavish Rating: E (MDNI) Tags: Soap x f!reader/f!oc, face sitting, D/s dynamic, shame play, slapping, degradation, slut shaming, corruption kink, lowkey misogyny kink, fingering, forced orgasm, sub space, mentions of reader being a nun, Dom!Soap, lemme know if I missed any Summary: Soap is a mean dom, that's the whole thing. Mind the tags.

You hover, a little unsure, your stomach twisting and your core tight from the thought but… Johnny’s hands grab your hips and force you down against his face, with a harsh, “Sit.” Heat races over your skin, half embarrassment, half excitement at the direct order. You try to raise yourself up a little but his grip is firm and you don’t move an inch. You shudder as his tongue slides through your folds, slicking you more than you already were. His hands slide from your hips to wrap around your thighs, trapping you against his mouth.

Like this you can feel the scratch of his stubble as he wiggles his tongue and sucks at your cunt, your hips rocking against him without thinking. He groans, tipping his head to close his mouth around your clit, hot suction that makes you want to press harder against him. Your fingers tighten on your skirt, holding it out of the way so you can watch him, or so he can watch you.

You're not a real nun, you swear there's nothing pious or upstanding about you, but your body seems to think you've never been touched by a man before. You feel entirely too sensitive, whimpering and whining at the slightest touch of Johnny's tongue. Though, it's not hard to know why. He's aggressive with his attention, determined to wring every drop of pleasure from you. He rolls his tongue against your clit hard and steady, forcing you up from quiet gasps to full loud moans. You're too hot, your dress sticks to the sweat on your skin and your hips burn with the need to grind and move.

"Johnny I-" you bite your lips to stifle the needy noise that bubbles up in your throat. He hums against your cunt, the vibration of it making you shudder. His grip on your thighs loosens enough for you to move, just enough for him to get his mouth off of you.

"What, Hen? You have to say it," his voice sounds wrecked, low and deep and beautifully dangerous, "be a good little nun, and say it."

The way he says "nun" spits it like a swear, makes your pussy clench, another whine building in your throat. "Need more," you mumble, "wanna cum, I need more."

Johnny twists, flipping you onto your back with practiced ease. You yelp and bounce against the bed. You hardly have time to try and find your position before Johnny is dragging you by the hips, stretching you out to settle between your thighs again. Times like this you remember it’s a military man you’re fucking, not just a random ranch hand. It’s the awareness he has, both of his own body and yours that makes you squeeze your thighs around him.

"You want my fingers or my cock?" He asks, his eyes fixed on the way he spreads your folds apart. He rubs his palm against the slick that’s made his beard shine, and waits for you to answer. The way he looks at you, hungry and dark, always makes your stomach clench. He’s hard, you can see the lines of his cock straining against his pants.

"Fingers," you decide. Johnny hums, and rolls his thumb against your clit, weighing your decision against whatever he has planned.

"Alright," he hooks two thick fingers into your cunt, pressing up to hit your sweet spot dead on. You clench and rock your hips against his fingers, God they feel good, just what you needed. "That's it," Johnny tells you, "what's a nun but a selfish little whore keeping her cunt all to herself?" You’re not proud of the way his words make you shudder and clench.

It’s all the approval Johnny needs to start thrusting his fingers into you in earnest. Hard and fast, curled to hit that soft spongy spot every time. Tight heat builds in you immediately, your stomach clenching as you try to squirm away from the targeted attack. Johnny wastes no energy grabbing your throat with his free hand, the firm pressure keeping you in place even when your hips squirm. He squeezes your neck and you can feel every callous on his fingers, just as your head starts to go fuzzy.

More warmth floods you, this time over your cheeks and up your ears. Your head feels cottony. It makes you clench around his fingers, trying to keep them in or squirm away as Johnny stirs up thick pleasure deep in your stomach. Your back arches, forcing your neck into his hold as your head tips back and orgasm overtakes you. You feel the wet release of pressure, the rush of warmth over your skin. You can hear the slick noise of Johnny’s fingers working your cunt faster and harder. It’s too much and you try to kick at him to get him to stop. He only presses you down firmer.

“Look’it tha’,” Johnny hums, leaning over you as you gasp for air, you grab at his wrist unsure, now, which hand you need a release from. He spits into your open mouth. “Only thing you’re good for is takin’ my cock and you couldnae even do that. You wanted my fingers, you can-” You dig your nails into his wrist and he hisses. You get what you wanted, he releases your throat and stops fingering you. Only to slap you.

It takes you by surprise, the sting against your cheek. Your breath catches and your eyes go wide. Something in your brain slips, just a little to the left, and your eyes lid. Johnny grips your face, and you smile at him. He gives you a wolf’s smile in response, jostles your head a little, and slaps you again.

“There she is, my stupid little slut.” His thumb brushes your cheek, a small comfort, “tell me who this pussy belongs to baby.”

“You, Sir,” You murmur, kissing his thumb when it brushes against your lips. He pushes the digit into your mouth and you curl your tongue around it.

“Yeah?” He coos, his fingers push into your cunt and you squirm, oversensitive from your last orgasm. “Then stop fuckin’ squirmin’ and let me do what I want.” The growl in his voice, the low punishing tone, make you freeze. Your muscles tense as he watches your face. Your brows knit together, your lips pouting still wrapped around his thumb. He grinds the heel of his hand against your clit, forces his fingers in and out of your desperate, clenching, cunt and tells you, “Don’t you dare fuckin’ come. You come and I’ll spank this pussy raw.”

The thought makes you shudder. You both know it doesn’t matter how hard you try to hold back, he’ll force it out of you. The same way you know he’ll have you crying through another orgasm as he spanks your clit and tells you what a dumb whore you are, how disgusting you are for getting off to this.

"No more selfish Nun," he’ll tell you as he eases his thick cock into your abused hole, "because this cunt is mine now, and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

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wrestlingwithlife · 10 months

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That Is Some Wild West Shit Right There

When a mission goes of the rails and Y/n gets separated from the rest of the task force he is forced to use the skills he learned growing up in his home town to get back to his team.

Task Force 141 x Male!Cowboy!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

“This has got to be the stupidest place to build some sort of evil science base.” Y/n hissed into the coms, back pressed up against a massive crate.

What Y/n assumed to be a lab was built practically on the side of a cliff. On one side of the lab you had a mess of trees that was practically just a jungle, and on the other a sheer drop off that led to one of the angriest looking rivers Cowboy had ever seen.

“Relax, we’ve almost got the last of the files downloaded.” Ghost eased the antsy male. Y/n grumbled a bit.

There were a few more beats of silence before a blaring alarm sounded, Y/n cringed at the noise. “Relax, huh?”

As a group of enemy soldiers went to run into the building Y/n stood up and opened fire on them to take the heat off the rest of the team and keep them from getting cornered in there.

“Y’all get yer asses out here now!”

Ghost was first out the door, sliding behind a box on the opposite side of the court yard for cover. The others weren’t far behind, but Y/n was on the complete other side of the yard. Trapped between the armed group of terrorists and the sheer drop off.

“Cowboy, how copy?” Price’s voice buzzed in the coms. Y/n ducked back down as a few of the soldiers turned their attention onto him.

Gaz threw out two smoke bombs, offering a bit of cover. Y/n took his chance and darted to another crate a bit farther away, but far to close to the cliff for his own comfort.

“Just peachy.” He hissed, ducking under the onslaught of bullets that rained down onto his crate.

“What the hell is that? Wait—“

“Get down!”

Y/n was able to cover his head just in time as a loud explosion shook the area. The crate he was behind blasted back in to him, shattering and sending his disoriented form flying back.

“Cowboy!” Soap shouted, breaking from his cover, but he was to late to reach his friend.

Y/n grabbed desperately at the edge of the cliff, but it was no use. Task Force 141 was forced to watch in horror as one of their own plummeted into the raging waters below.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n’s eyes opened blearily. His head was pounding and everything was fuzzy, but he forced himself up onto his elbows.

His eyes adjusted a bit and he took in the area around him. The room he was in was quite homey. Beautifully woven tapestries hung on the walls and intricately crafted pottery decorated almost every space. The male was laid out on a woven mat, all of his things sat nearby.

The h/c haired soldier checked his body, cursing when he found the damaged tracker. There was no way his squad would be able to find his location now. Where ever the hell he was.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the hall, and a middle aged man walked into the room. His face was kind and worn with smile lines, and he appeared to be of some sort of Hispanic decent. His smile widened when he saw Y/n was awake.

“Ah! My friend, we were worried for you. Fishermen found you in river.” The man spoke, his voice heavy yet still welcoming. “I saw the patch on your arm, you are American?”

Cowboy nodded. “Thank you for bringing me into your home, I could never repay such an act of kindness.”

The man shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. “It is you who I could never repay. Your service is the ultimate payment.”

A soft smile graced the southern males lips. “Then perhaps you could answer some questions?”

Y/n explained everything. The terrorists, the explosion, the river. The older man listened intently.

“We were supposed to go to La Ciudad Perdida after we completed our task for extraction in two days, but I don’t even know where I even am.”

At the mention of the city the man, who Y/n had learned to be named Mateo, perked up. “Our fishermen found you not long ago, and the city is not to far. Come, I will see if I can help you.”

At the mention of the slight hope Cowboy was quick to grab what he still had, following Mateo from his rather large home. As they walked out the older man leaned down and whispered something to a young boy who was quick to scurry off.

“My village does not have vehicles like trucks and jeeps, but there may be another way for you to travel.” Mateo spoke. “La Ciudad Perdida his eight miles west of here, a long journey on foot. However…”

The boy from before returned, rounding Mateo’s home with a massive black horse in tow. The horse moved with a sense of elegance and pride to it, like it had complete confidence in every step it took.

Mateo smiled at the beast before turning to Cowboy, who was still watching the stallion in awe.

“Can you ride?”

Cowboy turned to look at Mateo, eyes shining like new born stars. “I have my whole life.”

The older gentleman smiled. “Good. Than Guerrero will be your mount. He his unflinching at the sound of gunfire, he shall run for you bravely.”

“Warrior…” Y/n whispered the meaning of the stallions name to himself, stroking the giants forelock. “Mateo, how can I repay you for this?”

He waved the h/c haired male off. “I already tell you, your service pays for it all. Besides, I am wealthy man. I have many horses.” The old Hispanic’s eyes shined with mischief.

Y/n laughed, clasping Mateo’s hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “I will not forget this, my friend.”

Y/n pulled himself up into Guerrero’s saddle, taking a moment to adjust his gun and equipment so the weight was more even. With a final wave to Mateo, Y/n rode off into the direction of La Ciudad Perdida.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n did is best to keep Guerrero at a trot the whole ride. As much as he wanted to get there as fast as he could he had no idea what kind off situation he would be riding into, and he wanted both him and the stallion to have plenty of energy when they did arrive.

“You know, I always used to imagine doing this.” Cowboy chuckled to nobody but himself and the dark horse. “Riding into battle on a horse. Maybe it seemed silly, but I always thought that would be so badass.”

Guerrero snorted, shaking his head in response. Y/n chuckled, patting the stallion’s neck.

It wasn’t long before the outline of the city became prominent against the horizon. Y/n couldn’t help but smile that they had made it in time.

“Guerrero, I promise to you I’ll have you taken to my ranch back home where you will be treated like a king.” The southern male promised the horse, rubbing his neck. Y/n felt impossibly giddy about the fact he was about to be reunited with his teammates.

Once the city began to take shape the stallions steps paused for a moment, ears forward as he listened intently. It was only a moment before Y/n heard it too. The sound of raging gun fire, it was without a doubt coming from the city.

“That’s not good.” Y/n kicked Guerrero into a gallop. “Hyah!”

The black stallion whinnied, charging towards the city at impossible speeds.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Soap’s back was pressed flush against the truck he was hiding behind, Gaz right next to him as gun fire rained down over their heads.

After watching Y/n disappear into the raging water shit hit the fan. Ghost had went on a rampage, slaughtering every terrorist he could get his hands on.

Gaz had tried to find Cowboy’s location using his tracker, but the thing had obviously been damaged or destroyed in the river. That alone ebbed at Soap’s hope that he’d ever see the male again, but Soap knew better than that.

Cowboy was fighter. He was harder than nails with the kind of spirit that would put even the most wild of animals to shame. Soap knew if anyone could survive it would be him.

But that was counting on the fact that the rest of them would make it out. Whatever was left of the terrorist group had managed to regroup and followed them to their extraction point.

They had been caught unaware, and now all four of them were pinned down, unable to break from the cover long enough to wrap around behind the group.

Ghost cursed as he ducked his head back behind the crate he was using for cover next to where Gaz and Soap were. Price wasn’t far off, hidden behind his own rather large crate.

The most infuriating part about this whole thing is that there were only six terrorists. The task force without a doubt had them outmatched, but they had managed to get the drop on them.

“This is fucking insane. How many rounds could they possibly have.” Gaz cursed as the bullets continued to rain down.

Soap shook his head, reloading his own gun. “I don know, but I’m about sick of this.”

The shooting faltered for a moment, and the terrorists began shouting things Soap couldn’t make out. In the beat of silence a new noise was heard. It sounded like the beat of hooves on pavement, and it had the group leaning a bit to see what it was.

A hulking black mass was speeding down the street of the abandoned city, atop it sat a figure with a assault rifle poised and ready. The four could not believe their eyes as their teammate came charging in, giving a wicked laugh.

“Holy shit, Cowboy!”

“That is some Wild West shit right there.”

Y/n aimed his gun at the group of terrorists, the angle he came in at giving him the perfect opening. His heart thudded with wild adrenaline as he gave a loud war cry, littering their bodies with bullets.

The group didn’t know what had hit them.

Guerrero charged forward bravely, his ear hardly twitching as Y/n rained down hell onto the group. When the last of the terrorists had fallen Soap and Gaz were the first to move from their spots, followed closely by Ghost and Price.

Guerrero slid to a stop and Cowboy leaped from his saddle, Soap enveloping him into one of the tightest hugs he’d ever experienced.

“Ah, you amadan! I knew you’d be alright!” The Scottish man bellowed, grinning from ear to ear as crushed the h/c haired male in a hug.

Gaz was next to reach him, throwing an arm over his shoulders and ruffling Y/n’s hair affectionately.

Y/n ribs felt like they were cracking from their crushing force, but his smile was wide. He was ecstatic to be back among his teammates.

Once Soap reluctantly released the male Price reached up to ruffle his hair for himself, grumbling about Y/n giving him a heart attack.

“Yeah, I suppose I don’t want to give grandpa any more scares.” Y/n teased, giggling as he earned himself a playful slap to the side of the head from his captain.

A large arm wrapped it’s was around Cowboy’s shoulders, giving him a light squeeze. The male looked up, meeting Ghost’s steely gaze.

“Glad you didn’t die.” The masked male said, giving him a pat on the shoulder before letting him go. Y/n smiled, Ghost wasn’t one for public affections, so that alone was equal to Y/n being swept off his feet and praised from the mountain tops.

“Have I got a story for you guys.”

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

“Thanks, Ricky. I really appreciate this man. Alright, talk to you later.” Y/n hung up his phone, pocketing it as he went back to towel drying his hair. Ricky was Y/n’s transport guy. The man in charge of getting Y/n’s horses and live stock from one place to another.

And thanks to Ricky, Guerrero was now on his way to Y/n’s ranch. Where Y/n was sure that the stallion would get the full royal treatment.

Y/n tossed his towel into the hamper, opening the door to his bedroom. Price and Ghost were already there waiting for him.

Price was sitting on Cowboy’s bed, leaned up against the wall and reading a book. He sported a grey T-shirt and pair of loose black joggers, his usual hat sitting on the bed side table.

Ghost was leaned up against the head board, a few pillows stacked behind him for comfort. The masked male wore a black tank top and dark grey sweats, his sleeve of tattoos also on display.

Y/n shuddered a bit, he had a few tattoos of his own. The emblem of his ranch on his left shoulder blade and a few more on his legs, but the sight of Ghost’s sleeve just made his heart flip. He’d have to get one of his own soon.

Cowboy made his way over to his bed, crawling over Ghost to sit closer to the wall. Once he settled against the pillows he huffed, throwing his legs over Price’s lap. The Captain only chuckled, shaking his head before going back to his book. Though, one of his hands stayed resting on the males thigh, his thumb drawing small circles into it.

Before Y/n could get fully situated Ghost reached out, tugging the shorter male in with an arm around his shoulder. Y/n’s head hit Ghost’s chest and he looked up to meet Ghost’s gaze, but the other wasn’t looking at him.

Cowboy knew Ghost needed this. Needed to feel him, needed to hold him, needed to know he was still here. Y/n could only imagine the storm of emotions they had all felt watching him topple over a cliff and disappear into the raging waters.

The southern male hummed a bit, reaching for the remote to get the true crime show pulled up. Now all they were missing was—

The door to Y/n’s room burst open, causing the three to jump a bit as Soap and Gaz tumbled into the room, each holding a bowl of popcorn.

“Alright we’re ready! Sorry it took so long, someone kept burning theirs.” Gaz shot Soap a look, making it clear who the guilty subject was.

Soap stuck his tongue out at Gaz before fumbling his way into the bed. He somehow managed to get between Y/n and the wall, laying his head on the males hard stomach. He gave the country boy a grin, offering him some popcorn which he happily accepted.

Gaz huffed when Soap took the best spot before plopping himself down by Y/n’s leg, resting his head on the thigh that Price wasn’t rubbing circles into.

Now that everyone was settled Y/n started the new episode of the show and everyone soon became engrossed into it.

With all of the bodies piled around and on top of him Y/n’s body was pleasantly warm, he snuggled back a bit into Ghost’s hold at the cozy feeling. Ghost’s eyes cut over to look down at the h/c haired male.

Ghost leaned down a bit, lips brushing the top of Y/n’s head through his mask. He turned back to look at the TV before Y/n could look up at him.

But Y/n didn’t need to look up, a smile crossed his face, he knew. He brought a hand up to rest on Soap’s head, playing with his fluffy Mohawk as he watched the old murder mysteries play across the screen.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Phew, there you go my lovelies! Hopefully this didn’t feel to unrealistic, but I’ve always imagined the riding in on a horse scenario ever since I thought of Cowboy Reader in the military lol

I’m planning on doing a little 4th July special for Cowboy Reader too so be looking out for that!

As always, hope you enjoyed!

- Author~Chan out ✌️

#cod fanfic #cod mwii #task force 141 #cod x male reader #task force 141 x male reader #male reader #cod x cowboy!reader #cowboy!reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #gaz mw2

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ethereal-night-fairy · 4 months

Text

A Lick and a Promise

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGejRbbYp/

Outlaw!Ghost x Outlaw!Soap x Female Reade

This was inspired by the above art

All bruised and broken up, Soap and Ghost are on the run from the sheriff and his posse. They finally come across a run down shack to rest in. Only to find a pretty little lady sleeping there already.

Warnings: MDNI, slight perving, looking non-consensually, light injuries, a small bit of blood, needle and thread stiching, small bit of fluff, period typical misogyny, maybe some future kidnapping? sorry if I missed any.

A Lick and a Promise Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 1.8k

Night had fallen, a blanket of darkness was cloaking their vision. The only solace they had was the full moon guiding their horses. They needed to stop to find shelter and possibly something to eat. Ghost didn't think Johnny could hold out much longer. He was hurt far more severely than him. Dirt roads are dangerous in the dead of night. They needed to find shelter soon.

They were above snakes for now. But no one knew how long that would last.

They come across a beaten down house? It looked more like a shack, small and decrepit. It was on the outskirts of the town they were entering. They needed to lay low just in case the sheriff chasing them had associates here.

They wrap their arms around each other once they get off their horses and tie them to some trees in this sparse forest. It was enough cover to hide them from prying eyes. In case anyone came snooping here.

They walk towards the shack with some difficulty. There's an outhouse and a small patch of ploughed soil where some sad looking veggies are planted. And an old outdoor campfire with an cast iron pot situated on it. It wasn't lit of course. It's a sorry state but it'll have to do for now. They just needed a place to rest and patch up their wounds before moving on. It looks abandoned with the way the roof has holes in it. And the wood looks like it's about to break if you leant on it too long.

But unfortunately for them it wasn't abandoned. They find a little lady all alone laying in bed. This run down shack (it doesn't even deserve to be called a house) was no place for a delicate woman like you. You don't even stir when they walked in, probably in a deep sleep. They should have left and found somewhere else to rest but going out now would prove difficult especially with their injuries. They didn't want to disturb you, they just needed a place to rest for a bit.

You look ethereal as you lay in your white nightgown. The moonlight filtering through the holes in your roof gave your complexion a heavenly glow. They try not to stare too long. It was rude enough they were in your home without permission. Sure they were outlaws but they had morals and reasoning behind what they did. That's why they planned to leave before you arose from your slumber.

You still don't stir as the boys make themselves comfortable in your sparsely furnished home. There's a single chair and table in the corner where Ghost settles Soap as quietly as possible. He immediately goes to look for some water to wash his wound with. Thank God neither of them were shot.

There's a couple of large pots in the corner. It's probably where you store your water. It didn't seem like there was a well near your house. You probably carried it from the river. It was probably a 5 minute horse ride away. A girl like you shouldn't be expected to do such menial labour. Where was your husband? Or your male guardians?

As Ghost takes the lid of the pot it slips and clatters to the ground. The loud noise vibrating through the small shack. You startle awake sitting up in your small straw filled bed that was falling apart. You clutched your thin blanket to your chest as you stared at the two shadows in your home. They both had bandanas on so you were rightly frightened. Probably too shocked to speak.

It was like you three were in a stalemate. Waiting for someone to make the first move. They stand in awkward silence until Soap decides to make the first move to soothe you, which ends up startling you. Despite your fear he continues to move towards the candle on the table causing you to flinch and bring your legs up to your chest as a form of protection. Ghost doesn't move or say anything, afraid he'll startle you more. Soap manages to light the candle with his lighter. The fire bringing a warm glow to the surroundings.

“It's alright lass..”, Soap puts his hands up in surrender showing you he's not a threat. “We're nae here tae hurt ye, just two blokes who are lost and in need of some rest”, you stare at them with dilated pupils still extremely afraid. You shrink back as far as you can go, your body shaking.

“W-what do y-you want f-from me?”, you shiver and shake trying to prevent your tears from falling.

“Just some water and bandages if you can spare them”, it's Ghost who speaks up this time moving towards Soap where you'll get to see him better. You don't know why they thought that would help because it just sent your frightened mind reeling when you saw that these two men were built like a brick house and tall as an oak tree.

They watch you shakily point to your worn down cabinet dresser. “There s-spare rags on t-the second shelf and the water is in those pots in the corner.” You don't say anything else as you shake in the corner watching them.

“Much obliged”, Ghost grunts out. His own injuries getting the best of him.

Ghost moves to the cabinet with some difficulty. He retrieves the rags and grabs the cup beside the pots to gather some water to boil outside. He leaves grabbing Soaps lighter on his way out. Soap continues to try to sooth you with words but eventually gives up seeing that he was just scaring you. You two just sit in silence as he settles back onto the chair with a groan. When he goes to take off his bloody shirt you flinch and panic again but he tells you it's just to treat his wounds nothing else. You eventually settled, sneaking some glances here and there of his toned body. He finds your embarrassed expression funny. Had a pretty little lady like you never seen a man naked before?

But you refuse to say anything else, deciding to sit on bed staying on high alert.

It was bad enough you only noticed they were in the house when Simon made noise and usually he's silent. So they could have entered and left without you ever noticing. You had absolutely no protection here. A pretty thing like you could easily be kidnapped. You needed to be more careful with your safety, Soap thought to himself. At least get a latch for your door. But considering the little items you had. You were probably already struggling to make ends meet. You poor thing. No man to take care of you. All by yourself at the edge of town. Where you couldn't even go to a neighbour for help.

Simon comes back in with the sterilised water and cleaned rags. Soap felt bad that he was making him do all the work but he genuinely couldn't move. The pain in his rips was getting much much worse he hoped he hadn't fractured it. Ghost crouches down in front of Johnny wiping away his blood and making sure everything was clean. He ended up wrapping his ribs with his shirt because the rags weren't long enough. Johnny heaved from the pain but he was grateful nonetheless.

When it was Simon's turn he tried sitting on the table testing his weight to see if it could hold. Surprisingly it didn't break. Johnny tries to help him but couldn't lift his right arm very high due to his ribs. So he could only watch his lover patch himself through his pain. Simon was sweating profusely as he tried for the third time to wrap a cut on his dominant arm, to no avail. It was a deep one too. It needed to be stitched up.

What the two men hadn't noticed was that you had been watching them intensely. Seeing how gentle and kind they were being with one another brought a smile to your face. You watched intently as they took care of their wounds. They didn't notice your expressions soften as pity took over your features as you watched them struggle.

“D-do you n-need help?”, your soft voice rang out. It surprised the two men that you even bothered to speak with them let alone offer more help.

“If ye don't mind…he's struggling tae wrap his arm”, Johnny answers for Ghost because he knew he'd refused. They watch you gingerly get out of bed. Your blanket falling on the straw mattress. They got an eyeful of your thin gown. Very thin for that matter. They averted their gazes. They weren't perverts, they swear they weren't. You must be cold in such thin clothing…yeah they were just looking because they were concerned…mostly…mostly concerned…

They watch you walk over with a needle and thread in your hand. The first thing you do is put the needle to the flame making sure to wipe it clean of soot before threading it. You look at Ghost for permission to approach, still clearly scared of him. He gives you a simple nod making sure not to look at you inappropriately and turning Soap's head away as well when he caught him eyeing your chest. You were quick and efficient in stitching his shoulder before carefully wiping it clean and wrapping it up. He was grateful you had allowed them to stay. Though it was probably out of fear. You offered them water to drink and some hard biscuits you had stored in a tin. They went down with some difficulty but the water helped. At least they had something to eat.

You were still careful not to get too close to them though. Which was understandable. They promised to leave the next morning. You gave them your straw mattress to lay down on for the night even after they refused. You countered they needed it more since they were injured. A true angel you were. They hadn't met someone as kind as you in a long time. Despite being afraid you offered them hospitality. Though that would be a very stupid thing to do if it was anyone else. They really ought to teach you some common sense. How did you manage to survive on your own this long?

They watch you place the mattress on the floor as you retreat back to the safety on your bed frame to wrap the blanket around yourself. Soap didn't know why that disappointed him so much. He swears he's not a pervert…you were just very pretty…they wouldn't dare do anything to you though! Not unless you wanted it. But they needed to be gone by morning if they wanted to escape the sheriff. So it seemed you weren't in their cards of fate unfortunately. They'd think about that another time. For now Soap and Ghost held each other on the floor resting on their good sides trying to get some rest in before they had to bid their pretty angel goodbye.

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cordeliawhohung · 2 months

Note

Not an ask but hear me out please… this is Cowboy Soap, right?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLeX5fp8/

y'all

i do not need to get on another cowboy kick okay. it was bad enough thinking about cowboy gaz i don't need to think about cowboy soap either.

anyway cowboy!soap totally finds you after he's gotten all mucked up wrangling little calves for the rodeo and makes sure to give you a big hug while he's covered in dirt just to mess with you. he also totally puts his hat on your head and whispers something about how he'll really show you how good he is with rope later that night.

#core responds #soap x reader #cowboy!soap #this better not become a thing i can't

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wxnheart · 1 year

Note

I LOVED „𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧“! Will you write something about what the guys will have as their wallpapers? I think it would be extremely cute

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥

note: Your wish is my command, anon! Glad you loved the first one. Here's the prequel, folks!

Captain John Price - Funnily enough, his picture puts him in the doghouse. It's not a picture of you at ALL. It's a picture of you two's fur babies, Sir Peabody and Lady Marie. You can't help but admit it's an adorable photo but what the hell, Price?! There are plenty of photos of you and your adorable puppers.

Gaz - He... he doesn't have one. A force of habit or something like that. So you set it to the same picture you have on your lock screen so he can see that he does in fact scrunch his nose up.

Soap - Simply put, a picture of you being your cute, adorable self kissing Soap's cheek. Gah, it's as sickeningly vanilla as it gets. Some McLovin' definitely happened after that picture was taken.

Ghost - lmao. AGAIN. See, Ghost doesn't usually give a fuck because... it's a phone. But you do. So you set it to a picture of you, him once again glaring staring at the camera, and Soap. Three Musketeers or something like that. And now he's pissed because Johnny saw the photo and thinks Simon actually likes him and wants to take their relationship to the next level or whatever the fuck that means. Kick rocks, Johnny. ("What we have really is special after all, eh, Lt?" "Piss off.")

Alejandro Thee Stallion - He actually has a group photo of Los Vaqueros as his lock screen. That's so fucking cute. Too bad he forbids you from telling anybody... after you told Rudy lmao.

Rudy - It's a picture of you wrapped up comfortably in his favorite blanket. The favorite blanket that everyone in Los Vaqueros has a betting pool about. Good job, Rudy. You still don't know the story behind it and Rudy isn't saying shit.

König - You, uh... you surprised him with a rather, ahem, nice picture as his lock screen. His lock screen was subsequently cracked. Because he was so surprised that he dropped it. It wasn't even risque but it was enough to make him flustered.

Phillip Graves - Phillip managed to piss you off and you vowed revenge. As a result, it's either a dildo or a middle finger. Or another unflattering photo of him. Asshole.

Valeria Garza - Her lock screen is also quite vanilla. Just a picture of you two, her arm wrapped around your waist, donning a matching pair of aviator shades. The scenery in the background is rather eye-catching, too. She always had a knack for taking scenic pictures.

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coryosbaby · 5 months

Text

— ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ, ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ !

cowboy! Coriolanus snow x fem! Reader

synopsis: you meet a handsome, mysterious cowboy at a carnival.

content warning . western au, dumb choices, handjobs, cunnilingus, age gap if u squint ig

When you first lock eyes with him, it’s at a county fair.

How cliché it is, but in a small southern town of Kentucky it’s not that uncommon to meet your lover at such an event. Everyone from your town knows each other, knows every name, face, and house. It’s a wonder that anyone has any privacy at all.

But the man you’re looking at, you’ve never seen him around these parts before. His brown curls are hidden— you know he has brown curls because of the way the brunette locks peek out from underneath his cowboy hat. He’s wearing a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders, and the usual pants you see on every other man. But he wears all of this so exceptionally well that you can’t take your eyes off of him.

And he’s looking at you.

You shiver as you watch him watch you. Your momma stands beside you and gossips with her church going friends, and you hope she doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving this perfect stranger. She’d pound your hide for sure. You smooth down your dress, your eyes wondering to the man’s muscle-ey arms. He must be very fit underneath that outfit.

He moves, walking towards a ring toss game and winks at you. Heat creeps down from your fingers to your toes, your bloomers become drenched with arousal. You want to talk to him— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Your momma is busy, anyway, so what harm could it really do? You say goodbye to her and tell her you’re going to go play a few games. You’re not exactly lying about that. Your heel clad feet make their way across the dirt as you subtly take your place beside the man. He smells like soap and cigars, and you’re thankful that he isn’t like the smelly men that plague your location. He turns to look at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Do you wanna play?”

His voice has a soft southern drawl, not as vibrant as yours but still there. He must be from somewhere more up north.

“I’m not that good at these games,” you sheepishly reply. “But I’d like to watch you, sir, if that’s okay.”

“Sir, huh?” He seems amused, and his big hands toss a ring that lands around an old milk bottle. “I’m not that old, y’know.”

You nervously fumble on the balls of your feet.

“I jus’ turned twenty.”

He looks at you again, taking in the sight of your lipstick smeared lips.

“Thought you’d be younger,” he teases, and you smirk.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” he laughs, throwing another ring and once again, landing it onto the milk bottle. You wonder what else his hands can do besides play carnival games. “I’m twenty five, sweet thing.”

A slight age gap, but nothing you can’t handle. He tosses the last ring towards the bottles, and it lands again. The man who’s monitoring the tent lets out a loud whistle.

“First winner of the night,” he says. “Which stuffed animal d’ya want?”

At the mention of the wall of prizes, your eyes dart to all of them. They land on a brown bear with a pink bow wrapped up around its neck, and you frown when you realize that you weren’t the one to win the game.

But to your surprise, the man beside you smiles with his shiny white teeth and points at the bear.

“That one, right there, for this pretty lady.”

Excitement floods through you as the man grabs the bear from the shelf. He hands it to you and you squeal, hugging the bear to your chest.

“Thank you, sir!”

You’re talking to the one beside you, not the vendor, and he chuckles.

"Coriolanus,” he says, and it rolls off of his tongue like honey. “My name is Coriolanus Snow.”

You smile at him as you reveal your name. His hands are cold against your skin when they brush against your shoulder.

“Well, [y/n],” he starts. “Do you wanna get out of here for a little bit?”

It’s against your better judgement to go off from your family for the comfort of a stranger. But this man— Coriolanus— he’s different. Your undergarments are soaked, too, you know they are.

“My momma told me I shouldn’t be alone with strangers,” you chastise. “Promise not to hurt me, Mr. Coriolanus?”

He leans in close to you, something dark drawling in his voice.

“I’ll do my best to take care of you.”

—

You didn’t tell your family where you went. They were probably going to be occupied for the rest of the night, anyway. Your feet pad against the ground as Coriolanus leads you out to his pickup truck. It’s a bit rusty, but it’s a lot better than the vehicles you’re used to. He opens the door for you— a gentleman— and you climb into the passengers seat with little struggle. You lean back in the seat and place the stuffed bear in between the both of you as Coriolanus takes his place beside you. The ride to this mysterious destination is shorter than you expect. He turns into the woods— a little creepy, but you have a switchblade in your corset so it’s fine. When you arrive in front of an opening in front of a lake, your eyes light up.

“You can swim, right?” Coriolanus asks you.

“Of course.” You reply, opening the car door. You skip over to the edge of the water, dipping your hand in to get a feel of the temperature. It’s a bit cold, but nothing you can’t handle. You’re so distracted by the scenery that you hardly notice the sound of Coriolanus’ belt buckle until you turn around. He’s unzips his fly and begins to unbutton your shirt. A humored smile spreads across your lips.

“Skinny dipping? Really?”

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” he shrugs, pulling his pants down past his thighs. “Unless you’re a coward.”

You gasp, lifting yourself back up and putting your hands on your hips.

“I am not a coward, Coriolanus Snow. I’m just a lady.”

“A lady who snuck off from her momma to be with a boy she barely knows?”

He has a point with that, and you let out a frustrated noise. You try not to blush as he slips his shirt off, left in nothing but his underwear. He takes his hat off, too, and his hair is just as perfect as you imagined. You finally give in, beginning to unbotton the top of your dress.

“You’ll have to help with my corset, I hope you know. This thing is such a hassle to unlace.”

“I’d be happy to.”

He seems smug when you pull your dress over your head, your bloomers and corset being revealed to him. You pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and turn around so he can undo the laces on your corset, and his fingers strategically remove the strings in a matter of a few minutes.

“Seems like you’ve done this a lot, Coriolanus.”

He hums. “I guess you could say that I don’t lack experience.”

You scoff, turning around and sliding the corset off of your shoulders. Coriolanus gapes at your now bare chest, your hardened nipples on full display and your chest full and inviting.

“Neither do I.”

You move towards the water, and like a puppy dog Coriolanus trails in after you. The water goes up to your chest by the time you’re done moving, and Coriolanus pulls your half nude body close to him. You giggle, feeling like a giddy child, feeling free. He presses a kiss to your neck, then another, and another. It’s like you’ve known him your whole life. His lips brush over yours, not quite touching but just enough to give you the impression of his desire.

“Can I?” He asks, sweet and gentle. You nod, your head spinning, and his mouth molds to yours perfectly. His hands wrap tightly around your waist to hold you to him, and your arms come up to grasp the locks of his hair. He breathes heavy, pushing his hips against you, and you laugh against his lips when you feel his hardness press against you.

“You’re a filthy man, Coriolanus snow.”

He rolls his eyes, his palm coming down to rub over your breast. You gasp against his mouth, your mound pressing against his bulge, and he chuckles.

“Me?” He chastises.

“Mmm..”

Your hand reaches down, not shy to a man’s body as you move past his waistband. Your hand grips his cock, your tongue coming out to lick your lips when you feel how thick he is.

“Big boy, aren’t you?” You say with a throaty breath. He groans, his face burying itself in your neck as you begin to stroke him.

Your hands are like magic, your skill magnified tenthfold because it’s been a while since Coriolanus has been touched by a woman’s hands. His hips buck against you, precum dripping out of his swollen cockhead, and when your thumb brushes over the underside of his cock he lets out a deep, gravelly moan.

“You’re so good at this,” he breathes out, his grip on your waist the only thing keeping him up. “So good, darlin’, Fuck.”

You whine against him, his praise making your knees buckle. The water around you is still cold but it’s warming now because of your adjustment and your shared body heat. You can feel a few rocks poke at the bottom of your feet, but you can’t think about that right now. Coriolanus’ pleasure is like your own, and with the way he’s feeling… you don’t know how you’re still standing.

You reach past his cock for a moment to feel up his balls, soft in your palm, and the sound he makes is so guttural it’s almost as if you have killed him. His cock kicks, you can feel it and hear the water below you splash as your hand moves faster and gets him closer. He keeps spilling precious moans from his mouth, and you think you could spend everyday with him like this, even though you’ve only known him for a few hours.

“Gonna cum…” he whimpers out, his legs shaking. “Gonna cum all over your hand, baby.”

And you’re perfectly fine with that. You bite down on his earlobe, letting out a tiny giggle.

“Cum for me, Coriolanus. Cum.”

It’s an automatic command that has the boy thrusting one final time against you before he spills inside his underwear. Thick ropes of cum squirt against your hand, sticky and hot. You let him ride out his high before you press a wet kiss to his neck. He sighs against you, and he knows his body would be nearly limp if he wasn’t so fit. After that sigh he lets out a laugh, serotonin flooding his brain as you pull your hand out of his underwear. You smile at him.

“How was that?” You ask him. He tilts his head, biting teasingly against your cheek.

“So amazing that I need you up on that shoreline, darlin’. I needa touch you, too.”

You bite your lip, nervous as you reply.

“You don’t gotta do that. I know some men don’t like to.”

Coriolanus’ brows furrow, a look of disgust crossing his features.

“No man hates eating pussy. What kind of boys have you been hangin’ around?”

You stutter, trying to come up with a response but Coriolanus just shushes you and guides you back to the shoreline with his hands. His back muscles ripple as you watch him from behind, and you wonder what a wanderer is doing with muscles like that.

When you both get back to shore he tells you to stand and wait. He comes back soon with a blanket in his hands and spreads it out on the shore. You lay down on it, trying to calm your beating heart. Coriolanus takes a spot in front of you, sitting on his knees in between your legs. He smiles at you, his thumbs moving to the waistband of your bloomers. You nod to him, and with callused hands he pulls them down past your ankles. He throws them in the sand, the smell of your pussy hitting his nostrils and making him groan. His nose scrapes against your inner thighs, his hands holding your legs open as he begins to mouth closer and closer to your pussy.

“Coryo,” you whine, the nickname making his cock twitch. “Please? Y-You don’t have to, but I.. I really, really want you to.”

“Want me to do what, honey?” He says, his mouth hovering over your dripping slit. “Eat this pretty little pussy? Is that what you want?”

You cry out, nodding your head, begging for it now, and finally Coriolanus licks a long, wet stripe up your juicy cunt with his tongue. His eyes roll back at the taste of you, and he dives into your pussy like a man starved. His tongue moves up and down before probing your hole, slipping just the tip in as his nose rubs against your clit. You desperately hump against his face, riding his strong nose and squeezing around his wet tongue. You’ve never been eaten out before, never in your life. Not even with the handful of men you’ve lain with— none have ever wanted to do this or try to. You’re practically in heaven right now.

“Nghhh..” you moan, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You jump when his finger brushes up against your entrance, slipping it inside next to his tongue and scissoring, and fuck, you never knew this could be so good. Your legs try to close around Coriolanus’ head but he grabs one of them with his free hand and pushes it down. Your legs hitch up, a sob spilling from your throat, and the man below you can’t stop humming and making precious sounds. Slurping noises echo throughout the empty, wooded area, and you can’t help but fantasize about being caught. How hot it would be, someone walking in on this, on this hot cowboy devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal, your fingers gripping his curls like your life depends on it as he drives you closer and closer to the edge like no other man has.

Coriolanus slips another finger inside you, removing his tongue from inside you and making his way up to your puffy clit. He captures it in between his teeth, suckling with everything he has, and without warning your body is seizing up and you’re cumming, a sob escaping you, your hands yanking on his hair, your legs shaking. Coriolanus drinks up your spend, his chin dripping with your release as he pulls away and wipes his mouth on his wrist. You look down at him, and a grin spreads wide on his face. You grin back at him, the post orgasm clarity overtaking you as gets up and digs in his pants pocket. He lays down beside you, taking out a cigar and a match as he lights it up. He takes a long drag and a silence overtakes the lakeside, the only sound the light summer breeze and the crickets in the woods. You turn on your side, the moonlight reflecting off of Coriolanus’ jawline. He turns to look at you too, passing the cigar off to you. You take it, trying not to cough or embarrass yourself because this is your first time ever touching one of these things. When you clumsily inhale and exhale, you give it back to him with curiosity on your face.

“What’s a man like you doin’ around here anyway?” You ask him. “You some kind of outlaw?”

He chuckles, his fingertips grazing your thigh as he looks up at the full moon in the sky.

“If I was, would you tell on me?”

He knows you wouldn’t, but he teases you anyway. You shake your head.

“I wouldn’t. It ain’t my business.”

He sighs.

“Maybe I am. And I think that’s why I need to tell you to stay away from me from now on.” He explains. His finger grips your wrist, tickling you. “I’m bad news, sweetheart.”

“I can handle it, cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans back again and closes them. He changes the subject.

“Do you need me to take you home?”

You shrug, grabbing the cigar from him.

“It can wait a few more hours. My momma’s gonna be livid when she sees me.”

And it’s true. Because when Coriolanus drops you off in his pick up truck with a promise to see you again (after your persuading), you show up at your front door barefoot, the teddy bear in your hands, and without a corset— Coriolanus had taken it from you as a souvenir, and he said he didn’t intend to give it back. In return, you had taken his hat and perched it on your head as a reminder of his touch. You give him a small thumbs up when you watch him get the hell out of dodge.

Your momma is furious when she opens that door, but you don’t regret this night one bit.

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