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ghouljams · 3 months

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Læknir [Chapter 5]

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Tags: Viking au, Viking!Soap, highlander!reader, healer!reader, Soap x f!reader, medical procedures, bodily fluids(blood and puss), slow burn, Gaz is here Hi Gaz

Summary: It's funny, you don't even think about what your participation means, whether it will be seen as compliance, or an acceptance of your situation. You're a healer, and you have patients to treat.

You peak over the fur lined bedroll you’d spent most of the night tossing and turning on. Mactavish sits beside you in the same cross legged position he took last night. His eyes are fixed on the tent’s flap, something cold and impenetrable holding his features. Somewhere in the pit of your stomach you pity him. You don’t know for what, or why, but the moment is broken when his eyes dart to yours. He seems to pull his charm on like a well worn cloak, his smile bright enough you almost miss the way it barely touches his eyes. You wonder if he slept any better than you did, if he slept at all. Though any sleep would be better than what you got. Every shift in the wind had woken you last night, every creaking footstep, every howl of some poor distant animal making your bones quake. You’ve been brave enough for a lifetime, you’re not stupid enough to sleep.

“You were busy last night,” Mactavish quips as you sit up. You shoot him a quick glare, and don’t bother entertaining his teasing. The soft grey light of morning is filtering in under the tent flap and you’d rather be up before anyone can force you up. “There’s breakfast,” He tries a different approach.

“You don’t have anyone better to bother?” You ask him quickly, biting the hand that tries to feed you. He doesn’t flinch.

“Captain hasn’t come lookin’ for me yet.”

As if on cue the tent flap is pulled aside. You’re unsurprised to see a viking, you wish you could find it a relief that it’s one you almost recognize. The dim morning light washes all the warmth from his dark skin, but Mactavish smiles a little more genuinely when he sees him. Having more men in the tent makes you nervous, you try not to let it show on your face.

“Captain wants-” Your tired brain does its best to translate as the viking speaks, you pick up on pieces of words, try to parse together a sentence. You catch the tail end of it, “out” and try not to settle yourself in doom. Mactavish nods. You always fancied yourself smart for being able to translate an unfamiliar tongue. He makes you feel stupid, a viking better than you at something you prided yourself on.

He speaks in the harsh tongue easily, pulls the words together like a musician. You hear his tone shift to the affirmative, and a “Thanks mate.” in your own tongue. You wonder if you’ll fall into such easy switches. You hope not. You hope that this tongue, this culture keeps its hooks out of you for as long as it takes you to find a way to freedom. Mactavish turns his attention to you.

“Gaz is gonna take you around to check the other men,” He tells you. Gaz. You file the name away for future reference.

“Where are you going?” You ask, some sick rolling thing in your stomach hates him for abandoning you so soon after stealing you away. His brows draw together in confusion, you wonder if he knows what made you ask, if he thinks you have any sort of draw to him.

“Have to deal with a couple things, you’ll be alright without me,” He assures you, “Gaz won’t let anythin’ happen to ya.”

You glance at Gaz, he smiles at you. Again you find a spark of pity in his eyes. You wish he’d turn that wretched emotion on someone else.

Mactavish touches your arm and you jerk away from him, his fingers tighten into a fist in response, almost as quickly as you’d moved. You don’t bother looking at him, despite the way you feel him stare, and grab your pack as you move around him, ducking under Gaz’s arm and into the open air. The morning’s chill makes you deflate a little.

The high cliff face separating the beach from the highlands feels insurmountable. A giant wall set up between you and the life you once led. You’re struck by the gnawing pit in your stomach that whispers to you, you can never go home. Gaz comes to stand beside you, eyes fixed on the dark cliffs. He must have come from somewhere too, right? What does he see, what wall has been erected by the gods to stop him? You push the thought from your mind. Pity does nothing and serves no one. It’s a connection you’re eager to set yourself apart from.

“Over here,” Gaz tells you, turning away from the cliff and walking towards the still burning fire. He doesn’t touch you, and for that you’re grateful. You follow after him, if you’re going to pretend to be a healer you may as well make a play at actually healing.

Vikings huddle around the fire, talking and laughing, the warmth of it still radiates strong, the smoke still billows. It’s funny how much you can hate something that once brought you so much comfort. Your eyes fix on it too long.

“Læknir,” Gaz calls, and you jerk your head, sure he’s talking to you. You file the word away, ashamed to think you might ask Mactavish about it later. “Look after the men,” He continues once he has your attention. You glance at the vikings sitting around the fire, and nod. If you’re going to survive, and you must survive, it’s better to be a healer.

There’s a palpable distance between you and the vikings. Gaz hovers nearby, waiting to help translate as best he can, and you catch the other men glancing at him occasionally, but for the most part the vikings don’t stop their conversations as you check them over. Most are in good health. Their scars are pink and silver, others more purple, healing, healed, well taken care of. You wonder what their healers back home are like.

You poke at one of the viking’s shoulders and he hisses. You’re quick to grab at his cloak, tugging at the fur to get a better look at what’s causing him pain. Your bedside manner has always left something to be desired. The viking looks startled, more confused than you really expected him to be. You give another tug and he grabs at the edge of his cloak to wrap it around himself more securely. Big baby.

Gaz says something, covering barely contained anger. The viking responds and Gaz hums. “Læknir,” He settles a hand on your shoulder and you glance at him, “you need to ask.”

You look back at the viking who looks a little put out by your insistent yanking. You- you think you were hurting him. You forgot. You forgot that you could hurt these men. Something akin to guilt flashes hot in your stomach, twists in on itself until you feel sick. It isn’t the fact you’ve hurt someone that does it.

It’s the way you want to feel good about hurting him. You want to feel some sort of vindication, like this is their penance for stealing you away. If you can hurt them, maybe you can do more than just bide your time. The thought sickens you. You hope there never comes a day where these men force you to become as violent as they are.

“I need to look,” You tell the viking in your stilted, inelegant translation, “please.”

The viking sighs and unclasps his fur, his cloak, lets you pull his loose shirt to the side to check his shoulder. You palpate the area with your fingers, checking for breaks and dislocations. It’s sort of… squishy? Moveable but in a way that makes the viking hiss. There’s a fresh scar running along the length of the bump you’re pressing. You think you remember this happening to one of the men in your village, an excess of blood and phlegm built up under the skin. The elders had brought you and a few other apprentices to watch the extraction of it.

You turn to rummage through your bag to try to find your notes. There are few things more precious to you in this world than the bag you carry at your side, the last remaining vestiges of home and a firm reminder of what you are. You pull a book free from its pocket, and flip through the carefully penned pages. Your crude sketches and quick handwriting aren’t anything to boast about, but the knowledge contained within them is more than you’re sure vikings have.

“I need,” You fish for the correct word as you pull your knife free, the blade flashes wickedly, you look up at Gaz, “He needs to bite.” You make the motion with your teeth, clenching your jaw to be sure he’s got the point. He’s smart, you’ll give the viking that much, Gaz rummages through his own pockets and pulls a strip of thick leather free. You nod quickly and stand to hold your knife in the fire.

If you’re going to do this under scrutiny you may as well take every precaution. A hot knife stops bleeding before it starts, though the smell of it is… unpleasant. You can only thank the gods that you keep your tools sharp, staring at the blade as it darkens with heat. You know the metal is heated enough when it hurts your hand. The heat biting into your palm almost feels good. Penance for cooperating with the wolves.

When you turn back to your patient he’s got the leather strap between his teeth, and two more men holding him steady. You almost feel bad, but it isn’t your job to feel bad, it’s your job to fix. It’s your job to be quick enough that your patients don’t suffer unnecessarily. You move close, side step around the vikings to push your fingers against your patient’s skin, feeling the squish that needs to be excised.

You press the blade of your knife to the viking’s shoulder, and he tenses with a low groan of pain. Less than you’d expected. You suppose these men are used to pain. Your cut is short, but deep enough you can feel where the skin breaks for puss. You can see it too, the viscous yellow that spills over the edges of the wound. You grimace when it flows, warm, over your fingertips and reposition your hand around the edges of the squishy pocket. Gaz hands you a cloth, exchanges it for your knife, and you hold it under the wound to catch the sickness that you carefully squeeze out.

You push against the viking’s skin until it’s just blood running from the wound. When you’re satisfied you’ve gotten all the sick out, you hold the cloth out to Gaz. He grimaces, and jerks his head towards the fire. Ah. You chuck the soiled linen into the blaze and ignore the crackle of fluid heating. You dig through your bag again, pulling needle and thread free of their places, and carefully knot a few stitches in the fresh wound. It’s ugly, but it does the job keeping the skin together. You’ll have to check the wound again in a few days to be sure the puss hasn’t come back, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll be going anywhere.

You shake the blood off your fingers, letting the red splatter on the grey rocks of the beach. It’s sort of satisfying doing your job, you’ve been training in it long enough. Turning your attention back to the viking he’s attempting to pull his shirt back into place. You’re quick to try and stop him, fussing with your bag and tugging a jar free. You open the seal and dip your fingers into the golden honey within, smearing it over the fresh wound.

Gaz hands you another length of cloth and you tie it tight around the viking’s shoulder. It’s dirty work, but between the two of you it’s been quick. That’s good, less risk if medicine is quick.

You cap the honey, wiping your fingers on your skirt. More stains for the unassuming fabric, but better this than dirtying your earasaid. You look away from your patient as he pulls his shirt back into place, refastens his cloak, and make eye contact with the captain. His gaze is just as flinty as it was yesterday, hard as stone and just as unyielding. Mactavish is next to him, and smiles when your eyes dart to him. The captain turns and shifts his attention back to his crew. You turn your attention to reorganizing your bag as Mactavish makes his way towards you.

“You keep honey on you?” He asks, snatching the jar from where you’d set it. You’re just as quick to snatch it back. Your annoyance flares.

“I found a hive while I was in the forest,” You tell him, keeping your eyes focused on your work as you settle your book and the jar reverently into their places, “wasted too much time collecting it, you wouldn’t have-”

You bite your tongue, cut yourself off. If you hadn’t wasted so much time on the honey you might have finished gathering herbs in time to avoid Mactavish. Maybe then you could have done something to help your family. Or perished with them, a quiet voice whispers to you. It would have been better than this, you tell the voice.

You look at Mactavish when he’s been quiet too long. His face is unreadable, but his posture is rigid. He isn’t here just to bother you. You straighten from your rummaging, afford yourself all the height you can steal to meet his eye.

“What?” You ask.

“You’re hired,” He tells you, though it does nothing to ease his posture; you blink at him and go back to your bag, untwisting the strap to pull it over your shoulder, “and-”

“And I don’t have a choice in the matter” You grumble. Mactavish grips your chin with firm fingers, turns you to look him in the eye again. His eyes are stormy, the brilliant blue yielding to clouds the same way the sky does. It startles you enough to keep you still.

“And we’re going home.” He says home like a finality, like the last wheezing breath before death. He says it like he means you to know his meaning without his saying it.

“Home.” You swallow and he nods.

“Aye, home.”

Not your home, you think, theirs.

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

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don't leave me locked in your heart (chap 1) - ghost x soap x reader

summary: Soap sees you dancing at a bar and decides you'd make the perfect anniversary present for Ghost, so he tempts you into going home with him one night and simply… doesn't let you leave in the morning.

word count: 11.9k

cw: NONCON!!!! dark!!! noncon somnophilia, kidnapping, noncon gags and bondage, rough sex, oral sex, the sex goes from consensual to dubcon to noncon, first chapter is almost entirely soap/reader

chapter 2/2 here, read on ao3, see the pinterest board

You've been dancing with the same man for the last three drinks. You haven't seen his face yet - you're a bit scared to turn around at this point, having built him up in your head so much that you're expecting no less than a modern Adonis - but his hands are rough and confident, and he certainly knows how to move his hips against yours. He's got some sort of sixth sense for how to drive you the most insane to the beat of every song, and you can only hope you have the same effect on him (which if the hardness against the small of your back is anything to go by, you do).

Every time you dip off the dance floor for another drink, he's right there waiting when you get back. You never see him, can't figure out which of the writhing bodies he must be, but within less than a minute of being back with your refill his hands are running up your hips again.

You might not know it was the same man if he didn't have the most distinct scent you've ever smelt on someone. Cigarette smoke, and a clashing air of what has got to be two separate colognes - wood and pine but also lemon and... you want to say basil. Regardless, it's distinct and strong, even in the packed crowd. All he has to do is tuck you into him long enough for you to inhale once and you know your partner's back.

You figure you'll see if he wants to go home with you. In a few more songs.

For now, you keep dancing. Hips grinding into his along with the heavy bass of the music, free hand following both of his as they track up your stomach, rolling your face into his cheek where his chin is hooked over your shoulder, eyes shut as you lose yourself in the movement and the music.

At the end of the song you quickly down the rest of your drink, eager to have both hands free, and pass it off onto the tray of some poor waiter who's decided to cut through the crowd instead of going around.

The man behind you straightens again as the song changes, his movements slowing to match the new tempo, chin grazing the back of your head now (and oh the idea of how big he must be sends a shiver up your spine).

You place your hands on the outside of his thighs, feel the rough denim tight around his muscular legs and dig your nails in. His chest rumbles against your back and his next grind is harsher, so you drag your nails up, up, up, stroking his sides, his shoulders, and finally wrapping your hands around the back of his neck.

He bends down a bit, for your sake, and tucks his face into your neck. You feel lips moving over the column of your throat, tongue and teeth skimming the sensitive skin for just a second.

You hum, the buzz settled over your brain making everything feel so lush and good and explore with your hands for a bit. You don't have much range of motion, but through just a bit of searching you figure out he's got a mohawk, one just grown out enough for you to wrap your fingers in and pull. Which, of course, you do.

Your mystery man lets out a groan, one that you can't hear but can feel as he bites down and shakes his head, just a bit. The animalistic movement tugs a high whine out of your chest, and the whole process repeats again - each tug harsher, each bite stronger. You worry you'll soak right through your panties at the rate the two of you are going.

Two songs later, your partner growing increasingly touchy as you stroke his hair and neck, you're spun around suddenly. You stumble a bit, teetering on your sky high heels, but his arms grip just beneath your ribs to steady you. You glance up sharply, eyes narrowing.

The first thing you see is a smirk.

He's handsome, your partner. Certainly no Adonis - he's far too... rough around the edges for that - but an undeniably good looking man. His mohawk is a deep brown, matching scruff on his cheeks (not enough to be a beard but enough to scratch against your skin), dark blue eyes that crinkle at the edges, thick and dark eyebrows, a strong jaw and a strong nose. All handsome pieces that fit into a puzzle just slightly off on this man, like a grid moved one unit to the left. His nose has a bump on it that you can only assume is from being broken one too many times, a scar bisects the edge of his left eyebrow and stretches almost to his eye, and his eyes are dark with an unmistakable hunger where they bore into yours.

He's just your type.

You let yourself go a little loose, lean more of your weight into his hands and rest yours against his pecs. Your nails dig in just a bit, to see if there's any give. There isn't much - he must be muscular under the tight black shirt he's wearing. You glance down quickly, to see if maybe you can get a peek at his physique, and sure enough his shirt rides up just enough that you can see a sliver of taut muscle. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you drag your eyes back to his.

"Hi, lovie," the man says, cocky grin on his lips as he strokes up to your ribs and down again. A little girlish giggle bubbles in your throat, and you tell yourself it's the alcohol that makes the cheesy nickname work.

"Hey yourself," you murmur back, equally cheesy. It must work for him as well as it did for you, considering how much his smile grows.

He has fucking dimples. Dear lord.

He dips his head down to you, tugging your body further into his and moving his hips to the faster beat of the new song. You're almost resting against him, his thick thigh squeezed between your legs and your weight pressed against his chest. Still, you do your best to gyrate along with him.

"'M Johnny," he says, forehead pressed against yours, eye contact still unbroken.

You breathe out your name in return, hips jutting against the thickness of his thigh where it rests against your aching core. He repeats your name, then pushes his leg up just a bit more with a smirk on his lips. You tip forward a bit, biting his chest through his shirt in response.

He only groans, one hand dropping to the small of your back to force you into a deeper arch.

"Want you to come home with me tonight, lass. You wan' that too?" His accent - Scottish, it's like some angel shaped him perfectly for you - has thickened as your dance continued. His head dips to your throat again, mouthing at the think skin just below your ear. He keeps speaking before you can answer his question, almost muttering to himself at this point. "Promise I'll take good care of you, give you the best night of your life, give you everythin' you've ever wanted. That sound good, baby?"

"Jo-Johnny," you gasp out, hand weakly patting at his chest as your grinding hips bring you closer and closer to a peak you're not sure you want to reach in the middle of the dance floor. "Please, please take me home with you?"

His breath hitches right beneath your ear, then you feel his lips stretch into a smile, feel teeth pressed against you. "Yeah? Want me to take you and fuck you good, huh, lovie?"

You let out a little whine, tugging at his hair as you continue to rut against him, becoming more and more uncoordinated as his hand presses harder against your spine to encourage you.

"Hm, how about you go ahead and come for me now, lass? A little warm up, to show you how good tonight'll be." You keen plaintively at the words, tucking your head into his neck to hide your face, and he rumbles against you. "Yeah, just like that. C'mon, come for me pretty girl."

He slips a hand up your dress, the one not keeping you in an arch, and his finger dips confidently past your panties to tweak your swollen clit. His breathing grows heavier against you, but his fingers don't falter, strumming at you over and over until you go stiff with a full body shudder. You bite down onto his neck to keep from crying out, but he doesn't bother to smother the deep groan from his chest.

Before you've fully recovered, Johnny's pulling you off the dance floor, hand locked around your elbow to keep you from falling. Your knees nearly knock together as you try to keep up with him, still more than a little dazed.

This isn't like you. You've always been hyper selective with the men you take home, never gone out without telling someone, certainly never let anyone get you off in public. But as you follow this Scot out of the bar, vision hazy from the alcohol and the orgasm, you can't find a single piece of you that worries this might not be the right choice. Every part of you clambers for more of him, and you're not in any mood to deny yourself. Surely you've earned a bit of reckless fun.

Johnny glances over his shoulder, his dopey smile breaking you out of your thoughts. You can't help but smile back, snuggling into him when he tucks you under his arm as you finally step into the cool night air.

-----

You thrash your head against the door, eyes rolled back in ecstasy and mouth dropped open as Johnny licks desperately at your cunt, lacy black panties left loose around one ankle.

He's almost nasty about it, hand gripping your thigh so tightly you know there'll be pretty finger-shaped bruises come morning, slobbering so much that you can't tell how much of the wetness between your legs is your slick and how much is his spit. His head is ducked beneath your dress so you can't see his expression, but you can feel his moans and groans against your core. He's got to be just as into it as you are, if the thrusting motion of his hips is anything to go by.

He's driving you insane. Two fingers buried deep inside you, thrusting as quickly as his tongue flicks over your clit, leaving you panting and quivering. Every few moments he wraps his teeth very lightly around your clit, gives the bud a quick but soft squeeze and rumbles deep in his throat, and every time you shout with pleasure. He moans along with you, pulling his fingers out fully to bury his tongue in your hole, groaning again as he sucks down as much of your taste as he can. When you give a sharp yank of his hair in response he's quick to stuff you again - three fingers this time - and go back to sucking on your clit like it's his favorite candy.

It doesn't take long for him to get you off. His clever tongue, the punishing pace of his fingers, and the evidence of his own desperation have you coming less than five minutes into the whole ordeal, loud moans spilling through slack lips, uncaring of thin walls or anyone unfortunate enough to be in the hallway.

Once he deems you finished he leans back on his heels, grinning up at you with a mixed expression of pride and smugness, jaw and lips absolutely soaked from his ministrations.

"You taste delicious, lass. Can't wait to do that again, but I need my cock in you soon or I might fuckin' die," he chuckles. You can't believe he's capable of being so nonchalant when you're not sure you could form a full sentence in your current state, especially considering the very obvious bulge in the front of his jeans, the one he finally grinds his hand on when he catches you looking.

You hum a bit, running a hand through his mohawk and scratching your nails lightly across his scalp. His eyes drift shut and he leans into the touch, hips rutting into his own hand, the big scary Scotsman made soft by a few pets. You don't feel so thrown off by your inability to speak anymore.

He stands after a few moments, and you're reminded of how big he is. Without your heels you just come up to his shoulders, and his shoulders themselves are wider than your body. You could hide behind this man, completely invisible, and it makes you wetter than you would've ever imagined.

"C'mon, darling," he grunts, locking his hands beneath your thighs and confidently lifting you. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, luxuriating in his warmth as he presumably moves the two of you to his room. You kiss up his throat, sucking little love bites into his tanned flesh and smirking at the responding squeeze of his hands against you.

Johnny drops you rather unceremoniously onto his bed, and you can't help but laugh a bit as you bounce. He steps away for just a moment to turn a lamp resting on the bedside table on, then goes to turn off the overhead light so you're both bathed in a warm glow. You watch the way his jeans hug his ass as he moves, then can't move your eyes back to his in time as he moves around.

He smiles at you, the arrogant man. "Likin' the view, hen?"

You just leans back on your elbows, humming a note in your throat as you try and lay as seductively as possible in your rucked up dress.

His smile is one of pure sin as he steps back to the edge of the bed and tugs his shirt off before reaching down to undo his belt. You stare for a moment before wiggling out of the tight dress you'd worn, blindly throwing it across the room.

His eyes light up when he sees you weren't wearing a bra, a groan bubbling out of his chest as he reaches to paw at your tit with one hand and continues to undo his belt with the other. He hardly gives you a chance to look at him (more accurately, the show he's giving with that fucking belt) as he crawls on top of you, fingers twisting harshly at the nipple he's already got a hold of.

He dips his head down to yours for a kiss, and you gladly give it to him. You feel your slight nervousness disappear as he reciprocates your desperation through he kiss, lips eager and tongue searching. He's drooling against you, spit dribbling into your mouth as he grinds against your stomach and plucks at your nipple.

You whine high in your throat, writhing beneath him. The tug at your breast begins to hurt as he pinches and pulls, but you grow all the more slick between your thighs.

After what feels like an eternity of the most erotic make-out session you've ever experienced, you clumsily drag a hand up to push at his forehead so you can get a deep breath in.

Before you can really even pull away, his free hand shoots up to pin your wrist beside your head, fingers tight around the delicate bones as he nips punishingly at your lips.

There's a part of you - buried beneath the lust-driven haze, probably - that gets a little freaked out over his tight hold. But the part of you in control, the horny part, loves being pinned and moans high in your throat.

A moment later Johnny pulls away from your lips, staring deep into your eyes. He seems to be looking for something, but you can't do much more than blink up at him in the state he's left you. After he's found whatever it is he wanted, he smiles down at you and dips quickly to land kisses all over your face.

You giggle again, body cooling just enough for you to feel more in control as his hands move to rest beside your head. "Johnny," you laugh as he nuzzles his nose into your cheek.

"Yeah, lovie?" he murmurs, smile audible in his voice.

You hiccup a bit when his hands come to rest on your breasts, cupping them and running his thumbs across the undersides. "Johnny, need you," you hum.

"Hm?" He murmurs, shifting so he's kneeling above your torso, focused on your tits now instead of your face. "Whatcha need from me? Huh? Need me to play with these pretty nipples some more?" He leans down, nipping playfully at your hard peaks as you beging to squirm. He moves from one to the other, driving you mad with the sharp clip of his teeth and the warm wetness of his tongue.

"No-ooo," you gasp out at a particularly hard bite. "Need- need your- " You're cut off when he pinches both of nipples at once, twisting them and pulling up until the spark of pain pushes just past pleasurable. "Ah!"

"What was that, lassie?" With tears blurring your vision, you swear his smirk is mean this time. "I can't give you what you want if I don't know what it is." He lets go of your left breast, reaching up to give you a few little taps on your cheek, enough to rattle your brain. "So, what'll it be, lovie? What do you need from me?"

"C-cock, Johnny, need your cock," you groan, knees hitching around his hips and torso writhing as you try to free your throbbing nipple from his captive hold.

He grins down at you, loosens his fingers and strokes over the painful bud at your long whine. "There we go, sweetheart. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Johnny shifts his grip to your armpits, and all you can do is blink a bit in shock as he hauls you up and puts you where he wants you. Which is, evidently, leaning against the few flat pillows he's got at the top of his bed. He mutters to himself as he lays you out, calloused hands spreading your knees and pushing your ankles up, up, up, only stopping when you whine at the stretch.

"Wanna watch your face the first time - can't wait to get in that tight pussy, love. Can see you clenching on air from here, you poor thing. Just need something to stuff you, yeah? Need a thick cock for that pretty little cunt to squirt on? Hm? You gonna be be good and let me give you what you need, baby?"

His slew of filthy words drag you deeper and deeper under. By the time you'd made the walk to his place the buzz you'd gotten at the bar had almost entirely worn off (enough for you to even seriously question your choice for a moment), but you feel drunker now than you have all night.

Johnny reaches over once you're settled where he wants you, tugging the bedside table's drawer open and pulling out a small silver packet. You're momentarily stunned as he pulls the condom on, unable to believe that you were about to let this man - this stranger - fuck you without protection.

The thought flies out of your head when he leans back over you, hands stroking tenderly up the outside of your thighs and to your ribs, then back down again, a slow tease you only manage to handle a few seconds of.

"Johnny," you whine, reaching up to tug his face closer to you. He indulges you with a smile, hands stroking your inner thighs as he teases you with chaste kisses across your lips.

"You ready for me, baby?" He breathes against you, forehead against yours and eyes as intense as they've been all night.

You keen high in your throat, arching your back to thrust your pussy just that much more forward as the head of his cock brushes your clit. "Johnny," you repeat. "Need you. Please."

His smile only grows. "Anything for you, lovie."

You hadn't gotten a good look at it, but you can tell now that Johnny's cock is thick. You gasp and moan in tandem with him as the head spears you open, the burn of the stretch spurring you into humping what little he's got stuffed into you.

Johnny grunts, one hand smacking against the headboard and he other squeezing your thigh as he pushes his way inside, not giving you any time to adjust to the monstrosity his cock seems to be.

When his balls finally meet the backs of your thighs just moments later, you both let out loud groans. His head falls back and through the haze of your lust you admire his naked chest, leaning forward as much as you can to rake your hands through the small amount of hair there. A pair of dog tags rest high up, just below the hollow of his throat, and you give the necklace a little tug, trying to get him to move.

He hisses through his teeth, suddenly yanking himself almost entirely out of you. He stays there for a moment, just the tip of the tip still buried in your heat, and looks into your eyes. Again, like he's looking for something, but you have no idea what. If you did you'd show him immediately, you'd do whatever you needed to get him to fuck you in this moment.

And again, a moment later he seems to have found whatever he wanted. His lips twitch up and he hunches over you a bit, the hand not on the headboard moving up to the crease of your thigh.

"Ready?" He whispers, eyes darkened with the same lust you feel overtaking you.

All you can do is nod.

Your head barely makes the movement back up before he's slamming into you, knocking the breath out of you and your whole body back into the pillows. He's immediately relentless, animalistic thrusts that pound at your most sensitive spots.

You let out a wail, admittedly a little loud for an apartment, and the hand that was resting on the headboard snaps down to cover your mouth. His wild eyes meet yours, and Johnny growls low in his throat, baring his teeth as he pace quickens even more.

"God, wish I could hear you scream, love. Wish it more than anythin'. But we can't be gettin' a noise complaint, huh?" he says between huffs of breath. It gratifies you to know he's just as affected by this as you are. Your mouth opens beneath his palm and you lave your tongue out, stroking across the lines and callouses.

The action draws a deep groan from his chest and he straightens up, hand still over your mouth and pace not slowing a bit. His eyes are transfixed on where he's plowing into you, and after a moment of staring he ducks his head a bit and spits where the two of you meet, making the whole ordeal even messier.

The visual makes you moan against his hands, your own fingers squeezes desperately around his wrist as your singular hold on reality.

Johnny smiles at you, a cocky man who knows exactly how good he's fucking you. "Yeah, love? That feel good?" All you can do is nod, hardly able to hear him past the blood rushing in your ears and the squelching sound of your fucking. "Gonna come for me, then? Show me how good I make ya feel?"

You whine a desperate sound in your throat and tap your fingers urgently against his wrist, well aware of the fact that you very rarely come without at least some stimulation on your clit. Johnny's hand shifts to cup your cheek, thumb stroking over your lips.

"P-please, Johnny," you gasp out, eyes wet and wide. "Need- need you to touch my clit, please?"

Johnny's head drops to your shoulder as he moans low and loud. His lips shift to that sensitive spot below your ear as his hand moves to slide the heel of his hand over your clit. "Fuckin' love to hear you beg, lovie. Can't get enough o' it."

The added stimulation of his rough grinds against your bud combined with the continued pace of his thrusts has you coming in what must be record time, every muscle tensing and a sharp "Ah!" tearing out of your throat as Johnny fucks you through it.

He doesn't cover your mouth this time, just leans his cheek heavily against yours and breaths in all the noises you can't trap. His free hand forces your knee down to the bed when you start to almost fight the strength of your climax. Your walls squeeze him so tightly he'd have been forced out of you had he not already been forcing himself in.

"God fucking damn it, lass, you're choking my cock," he groans, accent growing thicker the more he sinks into his own pleasure. "Such a good fuckin' girl, fuck."

"Yes, yes, feels so good, Johnny, so good," you babble thoughtlessly, feeling out of your mind with pleasure as the relentless pressure against your clit continues even after your orgasm.

"Yeah?" His voice is unsteady now, thrusts a little bit sloppy as he nears his own peak and you go limp beneath him. "You goin' cock drunk on me, lass? Huh? Yer losin' yer goddamn head on my dick, fuck, I'm not gonna last, love."

His hands move to your hips, thrusting you down at the same time he thrusts up, and you cry out in ecstasy, overstimulated and losing all ability to think past the massive cock bruising your pussy.

"Jo-Johnny!" you cry out, reaching another peak just on the tail of the last one, shocked by your own body. You jerk underneath him, nails leaving bright red lines down his pecs when you drag them violently down his torso.

His last few thrusts are the harshest yet, prolonging your sudden orgasm and bringing him to his own as he finally stills balls-deep inside you, letting out a deep groan into the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck.

The two of you lay there for a moment, slick with sweat and panting against each other as he slowly goes soft inside you. Johnny's nearly gone limp, and his weight is heavy in a comforting way against you, even if his hips spread yours just enough to strain your muscles.

He starts to move again after a moment, little aborted thrusts accompanied by whines and groans from him as he overstimulates the both of you. You reach a hand up to push at his forehead when it all verges on too much for you, but he's too out of it to realize and just keeps moving his hips, bumping your clit with each halting thrust and seemingly driving himself insane.

After a few moments of this you start to squirm, ready to pass out after a satisfying fuck. You whine his name, moving your hand from his face to the bottom of his mohawk. When he still doesn't stop, you wrap your fingers in his hair and tug, a sharp noise all you're capable of to communicate what you need.

He stills suddenly, then makes a sound you can only call a snarl, teeth latching onto the meat of your shoulder and digging in. The sudden and sharp pain draws a high pitched noise from your throat, and he jerks his head back and forth a bit as his hips punish you with a few sharp thrusts.

"Johnny!"

He pulls his head back, eyes locking with yours. Despite seeming more in control than you for most of the act, you can see now just how far gone he is. Johnny's mouth hangs open, drool dripping past his lips from his work against your skin, his eyes dark and hazy as he stares into yours. A few moments later he stills then then pulls out, drawing twin moans from the both of you.

Before you even know what's happening, you're flipped onto your stomach. You blink blearily at the wood in front of you, trying to push up on your hands and shifting your legs closed.

"No," Johnny growls from behind you. His right hand goes to your left shoulder, pulling you tight against his body where he grinds his dick and up down your soaked slit. His left hand clumsily forces your legs apart, just shoving your thighs open until you lose your balance and are forced to your elbows.

He thrusts there for a few moments, and to your surprise his cock gradually thickens, then grows hard in your slick. You've still hardly realized what's going on when he pulls his hips back, lines up his cock, and pushes back into you.

The two of you let out twin noises of pleasure - his tinged with desperation and yours with that spike of pain that comes from overstimulation.

Johnny fucks you just as hard this time as he did the first, but the position manes he's nearly fucking your cervix. Each thrust forces a sharp noise out of your throat, and this time he doesn't silence you. He uses his hold on your shoulder to really fuck you, so rough you're nearly sure his hips are leaving bruises against the back of your thighs.

Despite the undeniable pleasure coursing through you, the little sparks of pain from your clit bring you out of your daze a bit. Your hands fumble in front of you, jerking back and forth and back and forth along with the rest of your body as Johnny's pace stays strong. After a few moments of desperate searching you finally manage to grip what must be a slat in the headboard.

Feeling a little feral, you grab it tightly and tug yourself forward, away from the brutal cock trying rearrange your insides.

It's not the right choice. The slight resistance against Johnny's grip on you rips an angry noise from him. He slams a hand down on the back of your neck and wraps his fingers in your hair, forcing your face into the mattress and dragging you back by his relentless grip. You keen, high and pathetic, and his only response is a rumble deep in his throat.

He stills for a moment, buried deep inside you still, and you can feel him shifting around behind you. You blink the tears from your eyes and stare dazedly at the dark gray of his walls, feeling like one big throbbing ache. A moment later you see his foot land on the bed at the bottom of your vision, and the hand not holding you down forces you into an arch that borders on painful.

Face smushed into the mattress, chest and stomach nearly flat to the bed and hips canted high in the air, pussy swollen and leaking - you can't even image how much of a whore you must look like.

Johnny doesn't seem to care too much. He leans his weight against you, leveraging his body weight into his thrusts as he starts his violent movements again. His teeth lock onto your shoulder blade, pressure strong and sucking. Every thrust forces a little uh from your lips, and every noise from you just pushes him further.

He moves his bites every few thrusts, and you know your back will be decorated in bruises come morning. When he starts to really lose his mind, when the span of your shoulders is aching and wet from his spit, he leans his forehead into the center of your spine and adds more weight behind his thrusts, slowing down but forcing what feels like the entirety of his strength behind each one.

With his hips tilted slightly more downward he absolutely plows into the sensitive spot against your inner walls. The first time he hits it, you cry out a noise of pure pleasure and another "Johnny!". He pauses for a moment, then lets out a moan of his own at the tight grip of your cock and sets out to hit that spot on every thrust. You start to sob a bit, high pitched little wails coming from your lips as the pleasure becomes overwhelming while still not being enough for you to finish.

He seems to realize you're not coming anytime soon only a few thrusts later, and somewhere deep in your mind you wonder if the multiple shifts in angle are meant to be for your benefit. He growls again and you feel the hand on your back creep around to your stomach then down to your clit, where two of his fingers begin to stroke and pluck at your most sensitive area.

The sudden onslaught at where you're most sensitive combined with the merciless attack on your g-spot had you rearing up, wild shouts coming without your consent. A snarl tears from his throat as the hand at the base of your skull muscles you down again, his body fighting yours as you instinctively look for a reprieve from the stimulation.

"Fucking-" he growls. "Fucking take it, goddamnit."

It only takes a few moments with the stimulation on your clit for you to come. The feeling grows from deep inside you, and for a moment you fear you recognize the sensation - it's one that certainly does not belong in this bed.

Before your brain fully connects the dots of what's happening you're swept beneath a tidal wave of sensation, fight leaving your body and leaving you limp as you do your best to squeeze the life out of Johnny's cock. You hear his groan from behind you, loud and uninhibited as he buries himself completely inside you to ride the wave of his own orgasm as you milk him.

"Knew you'd be perfect for us, lass. Look at ya - squirtin' all over me and makin' a mess, fuck. Gonna sleep in it tonight, soak in your scent. Can't fuckin'- can't fuckin' believe my luck- goddamn-"

His body finally falls against yours, cock slipping out of you (to your immense relief) and the left half of his body laid over the right half of yours. For a moment, the two of you pant in sync.

Then he's twisting both of you, rolling onto his right side and pulling you into his chest, tucking your face into his neck as he reaches down to pull the condom off his cock. There's a voice, somewhere deep in your head, that worries about the fact that he used the same condom for two rounds, but the heat of Johnny against you and the soothing pet of his hand through your hair empties your head too quickly for you to focus it.

You glance up at him once he finally settles. The smile on his face now is nothing by dopey and joyous, and you can't help but mirror it even as the ache settles in your core.

He makes short order of getting the two of you ready to sleep with just a bit of wiggling. You've had one night stands before where your partner (or yourself, on occasion) wanted to leave immediately, have even grown to expect it from most men, but there's a spark of warmth in your chest when Johnny tightens his arms around you, your chest against his, his chin hooked over your shoulder and using your head as a pillow, one arm wrapped tight behind your back and the other underneath your head. It feels like there isn't an inch of space between the two of you, and you've never been more comfortable.

You hum happily, still a little drunk from the pleasure, and snuggle your face back into his warm throat. The last thing you feel before falling asleep is a kiss against your shoulder and a hand stroking up and down your spine.

-----

It feels like hours later when you wake up, the room still painted in a soft yellow light but not yet harsh beams of sunlight.

It takes a moment for you to understand what's happening, breath bouncing back onto your lips where you're panting into a man's - Johnny, you remember - neck. You register the fact that your hands are curled between the two of you, your feet tucked between his calves, and finally the feeling of something poking and prodding at your very sensitive cunt.

It still takes another moment for your brain to understand that Johnny must be trying to start another round.

You whine a little in protest, one hand creeping up to wrap around his neck and the other pushing flat against his chest.

"Shhh," he soothes, breath puffing onto your forehead. "I just need you one more time, lovie. You can go back to sleep, promise I won't be rough this time, just need to feel you wrapped around me again, hm? Please, lassie, promise I'll be quick."

He sounds so desperate, a little out of control compared to how he sounded earlier, you're almost tempted to spread your legs and let him have whatever he wants. But then the tip of his cock puts just the tiniest bit of pressure at your hole and your hips instinctively jerk back at the sting, so you whine, "Johnny," mouthing at his chest. "'M sore. You fucked me too good earlier."

The noise that rips from his throat is almost begging, you feel it beneath your lips. His breathing grows heavier "Fuck, 'm sorry baby, so sorry. I'll just- I'll just fuck your thighs, yeah? Yeah, yeah, paint your pretty pussy with me, fuck, leave you soaked like you soaked me-"

"Johnny..."

"I know, I know, lovie, I'll just..." he shifts a bit, leaning his chin onto your forehead and anchoring a hand around your hip to keep you from squirming as his hips begin to jerk without rhythm. His cock is thick where you're most sensitive and you can't keep the high noises and quiet sniffles in as the sensation shoots both pleasure and pain up your spine.

”Hush, lass, 'm almost there, just need you to keep that pussy right there for me, so fuckin' close, just... just keep soakin' me..." he murmurs nearly incoherently against your forehead before his hips jerk to a still. You feel his come paint your thighs and you keen, part of you heartbroken he didn't paint your insides despite the pain.

"Ah, I know, I know, lassie. Here - I'll, I'll get you off too... 'm not selfish, hen, won't leave you wanting. Not like-" he cuts himself off, leaning his head down a bit and honest to god taking your cheek in his mouth, teething lightly at the fat there and soaking your face with slobber. You don't even think about the odd end of his sentence, you just arch into him and moan as his hand slips down to play with your clit.

His legs squeeze yours between them as you start to wiggle, hips thrusting away from the sharp sparks of pain your poor overstimulated clit is feeling.

"Hush, hush, baby just gonna... just gotta get you off real quick, ok? You can go back to sleep after, promise, just gotta make sure... gotta..." his voice trails off into a groan as your cunt twitches and flutters. He takes your lips in a sloppy kiss, more an exchange of spit and rubbing of tongues than anything.

Just as you're about to come he slips a thick finger into your overused cunt, drawing a sharp yelp from your throat, which he immediately sets to settle by licking across and around your slack mouth. "It's okay, it's okay, lovie, just giving you somethin' to clench on, yeah? Givin' your poor cunt somethin' to squeeze on, c'mon, you're alright." His finger begins to move around inside you, crooking, feeling for something until he presses right against your g-spot and you arch deeply into his body, a long moan falling from your lips. "Just gotta... yeah, that it? Tha' what feels good? Hng, you sound so pretty, baby, love your fuckin' noises, christ-"

You come with quiet gasps, the air pouring directly into his mouth just like his words had poured into yours. He works you through it, fingers slowly gentling on your clit and lessening the pressure on your g-spot as your jerking slows before you still and he finally pulls fully away from your core.

"Johnny," you mewl, hand gripping tight on the nape of his neck as you press as much of you to him as you can, slick skin sliding against slick skin. "Not-not again tonight, please, won't-won't be able to walk tomorrow if we keep going.

He laughs deeply against the top of your head. "Not as much of a deterrent as you might think, lassie." His arm wraps around the base of your spine, hand reaching around to rest on your stomach and his other arm wrapping around your neck in what almost feels like a choke hold. He throws his leg over your hip, leaning his body weight onto you and almost crushing you into the bed. "Won't touch you again tonight, promise, okay sweetheart? We'll go again in the morning, but just rest until then."

You choose to believe him and cuddle more deeply into his hold, a deep sigh leaving you as you finally pass out, boneless, against him.

-----

Johnny regrets his promise. He regrets it immensely.

You're so fuckin' pretty beneath him, your hair like a halo around your head, eyes shut and unmoving in sleep, lips parted just a bit to let you breathe comfortably. There's a pinkness on the cheek he'd gotten a hold of earlier (a light outline of his teeth marks that makes his cock ache even after three orgasms), and your lips are still swollen from the work he'd done on them. Christ, you look more fuckable now than you had with your hips rucked in the air, pussy drooling and begging for his cock, squirming before he got a good hold on you and kept you still.

He's not sure he'll be keeping his promise.

He wants to. You're gonna be right pissed at him come morning, he knows it, and the temptation to have you pliant and begging for it one last time is almost more than he can handle.

But no. He made you a promise, and even if he'll betray you in another way come sunrise, he won't betray you in the one promise he's actually made. If Ghost were here, he'd lock a warm hand around the back of Soap's neck, rumble something about "bein' good, Johnny" and take complete control of the situation. It'd feel good, the way it always does when Simon takes over, and Soap wouldn't have to worry about fucking any of this up cause Ghost would set him right back on track if he did.

Of course if Ghost were here, he'd never have met you.

Simon had left their shared flat only three days ago, sent on a mission the PMC they'd both signed with had requested him for. Usually the two of them worked together, neither willing to be separated from the other for long, but apparently this mission just had to be completed by one agent. Soap had pouted about it all morning, until Ghost had forced him to his knees and fucked his throat so good he'd been hoarse the rest of the day.

The first day after Ghost left he'd been... okay on his own. Ghost's mission - simple fuckin' reconnaissance, no good reason Soap couldn't have gone with him - took him far out to the country, so no texts or calls could be received. Johnny settled for spamming him a bit anyway, smiling at the thought of Ghost's inevitable annoyance when he regained an internet connection and felt his phone start buzzing endlessly. Other than that, Johnny spent most of the day cleaning. He's slow at it, but all the better to take up time in the day. He did a little shopping too, filled the flat up so it didn't feel so empty. It was a bit nice to go out in public and not part the damn Red Sea with Ghost at his side. People aren't scared of Johnny in the same way - they see his cheerful smile and laid-back posture and assume he's mostly harmless. He rarely needs to correct them.

Still. Would've been nicer with Simon.

The second day he realized their home felt empty because of the lack of one giant, brooding lieutenant, not the lack of throw pillows (which he didn't even bother to make match, for fuck's sake). This set him off a bit, left him pacing angrily around the apartment and muttering to the walls. Simon didn't have to take the fucking mission, and now he's left Johnny here - all alone! - in the home they bought for themselves to finally find a bit of fuckin' peace. It's not fair.

He'd been unable to take the absolute silence of the flat any longer on the third day, determined to surround himself with distractions. Granted, it's not like the flat is much less quiet with Ghost around, but the man has a presence that fills a room up. Leaves the room desolate and empty when he goes, though, and Soap is quite pissed about it. He'll make sure to let Simon know when he comes back, starts planning his revenge at night when he jacks off to relieve the tension in his spine.

He heads to a bar he knows is always packed that third night, feeling more and more pathetic as he rots away in bed.

It's there that he sees you.

You're on the dance floor alone, hips moving in a way that's got his and every single man's eyes glued to you. You're fucking stunning, sunk into a world of your own as you hit every beat of the music. Johnny can't help himself from moving toward you, shouldering past the writhing mass of people to get to you.

The moment he gets his hands wrapped around your hips he knows. You're perfect in hid hold, his hands fit around you like you were carved by fuckin' God Himself for Johnny. His head drops back as he tugs your hips into his, too caught up in his own head to think about what a scare he must've given you.

You still for a moment, stiff, but when Soap moves his hips away from yours and keeps his movements largely nonsexual (for now), more just swaying with you in his arms, you begin to relax and move with him.

You must feel it too then, right? Surely a young woman, one all by herself, wouldn't be so comfortable with a man she can't even see if she didn't feel the same spark up her spine he did.

The more you let him lead, the more sexual the dancing becomes, the more convinced Soap is that you're simply a gift for him. Placed right where he would see you when he needed you most.

There's a moment you scurry off to get another drink. Soap's eyes remain trained on your ass as you strut and it occurs to him that his and Ghosts' moving-in-together anniversary will be tomorrow - the same day he's set to come back from his assignment.

What better gift could he get than a pretty girl in his bed to welcome him home?

The plan maps itself out in his head as he continues to dance with you, time slipping by as song after song plays, his cock aching in his jeans and begging for release. He figures he'll get in a few rounds of fun with you to knock you out properly. Not a hardship for him - if you fuck as well as you dance it'll be a challenge for him to stay awake.

Once you're well and truly fucked unconscious, he'll begin the process of tying you up all pretty for Simon.

He gets you to their flat, still shocked you let him get you off on the dance floor, and he hardly waits for the front door to close before he's on his knees, nose and tongue buried in your center, feeling near feral with the need to get you off again. He's already fuckin' addicted to you and he hasn't even gotten his cock in yet.

You taste as good as Simon does - just more proof he was meant to find you. Ambrosia and nectar, the two of you.

He feels a little bad, in the afterglow of the second round. He thinks through his second orgasm and sees the way you'd fought against it. He worries, for a moment, that your want to get away was real, not just your body's instinctual reaction. But then you curl further into him, breath warm against his pulse point, and he remembers how clingy you were post-orgasm. All's well that ends well, right?

It's now, post third round, that Johnny watches you. His original movements of rolling you to your back and propping himself above you are meant to make sure you're not waking up any time soon, and he's definitely assured of that.

Still, he can't resist another little test. He prods his pointer and middle finger at the small space between your lips, applying just the slightest pressure. You don't even twitch, breathing steady, but your lips open just a centimeter or so more and he grins at the invitation. He slips the fingers in, carefully pushing further and further into your mouth until you let out a cute little gagging noise, brows furrowing lightly.

He stops there, waiting to see if he's passed your gag reflex without noticing. When you remain still, he lets out a breath of relief.

He pushes his fingers down on your tongue, applying pressure slowly so your brain doesn't suspect anything. In just a moment he's got your mouth fully open, and he can't resist anymore.

He groans a bit, hips thrusting into the bed as he leans in and licks at your mouth. His fingers slip down to hook over your bottom teeth so he can get another taste of your tongue, exploring every nook and cranny of your mouth that he was too worked up to find earlier.

He continues to make out with you until his hips jerk to a still, cum sticky between his abs and the bedsheet.

Then he really gets to work.

Johnny pulls himself away from you, leaving one last kiss on the hickey he'd sucked onto your neck. He moves around the dim room with military stealth, absolutely silent as he collects what he needs.

He's very, very slow as he ties you up. He lifts your body from where you were relaxed, propping you up just slightly against the headboard. He takes your right wrist first, lifting it to to one of the slats and tying the rough rope around and around until you're secured. He does the same with your other wrist, leaving your hands spread wide above you. He knows from experience that the rope is rough, that it'll leave wicked burns on your skin if you're left with any room to wiggle around. So he ties the knots real tight, leaving only room for circulation and absolutely none for movement.

Next he ties your ankles. Again he starts with the right first, lifting and slowly shifting your knee with it at the same time so you don't jerk suddenly and wake yourself. He's glad to see you're decently limber, because he knows you won't feel too sore later as he ties your left ankle to your left wrist. He repeats the process with your right ankle.

Feeling quite proud of himself, Johnny kneels back on his heels to admire his work. The position he's got you in leaves you completely spread, cunt and ass both open and accessible for him. He knows that he'll be able to bend down and reach both your tits and your face while he's fucking you, but you won't be able to do much more than writhe in place. You might manage a few thrusts if you get particularly worked up.

It's the same position that drives him the most insane when Ghost ties him up in it. It's also his favorite.

He grabs the last item after a moment of stroking his mostly soft cock and admiring you. The ring gag is decently large, made for someone with a mouth his size, not yours. It'll leave your jaw sore once he takes it out and the thought makes him frown - it's far too rough for his baby. Unfortunately, Ghost only buys rough toys for Soap, so Soap only has rough toys to use with you.

He hooks the ring beneath your bottom row of teeth then sets out to very slowly ease it fully in to hold your mouth in an o shape, buckling it around your head once he's confident you're as comfortable as he can make you. All the while he fantasizes about all the soft things he'll by you once you've settled in.

Silk rope, of course, and a much more comfortable gag to wear. Maybe one you can chew on a bit - Soap gnaws endless at any gag Simon stuffs in his mouth, but he doesn't want your soft mouth chewing at the hard plastics he prefers. He'll get you all the blankets and pillows you could ever want, too. Lay you in the center of the bed and build a little nest around you, the best things for his best girl, fuck you deep in the silk and fur, sandwiching you between himself and Ghost, the two of them fucking you til you're crying and begging for a break, pretty little pillow held to your chest for comfort while they stretch you to your limit, hiccuping and sniffling into a blanket he bought you -

A noise of discomfort breaks him out of his fantasy. Johnny jerks forward, petting your face and making the most soothing noises he can to keep you from waking up. He gives you his weight, remembering how well you reacted to it earlier, and after a few moments of his attention you go limp again. He licks long and languid into your mouth again, taking a moment to suck on your tongue for own comfort before pulling away.

He strokes his hands up and down the soft skin of your inner thighs as he decides what to do with you now. He hadn't had the forethought to promise not to fuck you, no, he'd been a bleedin' idiot and you said he wouldn't fuckin' touch you until sunrise. He fights to keep his fingers from tightening around the meat of your thighs as he scolds himself, frustrated.

Well... it's not like you would know, is it?

Maybe... maybe he can just eat you out a bit. Yeah, yeah he can go real slow so you don't wake up, bury his face in your cunt til sunrise then wake you up with his tongue. Maybe an orgasm will calm a bit of your inevitable panic?

He smirks and lowers himself to his stomach between your thighs, hands pulling the sticky, swollen lips of your cunt apart so he can lick one thick, broad stripe from asshole to clit. He clenches his jaw tightly, locking a loud groan behind his teeth at the unique mix of your cum and his on his tongue.

A few deep breaths to calm himself down, and Johnny dives into your pussy.

-----

The first thing you feel when you wake up is pleasure.

You know what a tongue on your core feels like. It takes you a moment or two to remember, in the dark of sleep still, that you went home with a man last night. With Johnny, who'd promised not to touch you again until morning.

Well. The quick swipes against your clit tell you he's either a liar, or it's time for you to get up and out.

That's when you realize that something must be wrong. Because there's an ache in your hips, and your arms don't move when you try to reach down and push Johnny's face further into you so you can finish.

Your eyes blink open blearily, confusion creasing your expression.

Your feet are in the air above you. More accurately, your feet are tied in the air above you.

What the fuck?

A cautious noise of confusion tears from your throat as you begin to twist and yank at your apparent bindings in earnest, panic and pleasure making your heart pound against your ribcage.

As you discover the lack of leeway your movements become more and more frantic, uncontrollable noises of pure animal distress coming from you.

Which is when you realize that you're making those noises because you can't speak. There's something locked behind your teeth, tied around your head just tight enough that you can't force the thing out with your tongue. Your breathing isn't restricted at all, and you realize it's because your mouth is gaping open, able to suck in any oxygen you need. As you become more aware of the intrusion, an ace in the hinges of your jaw makes itself known.

Your panic spikes in earnest now, noises becoming just sharp sounds of fear from your throat as you start to squirm away from the invading sensation at you most private area.

Then Johnny lifts himself into your eyeline.

He looks- he looks fine, which just freaks you out more because for some godforsaken reason you'd trusted this man, and now the only conclusion you can come to is that he's got you bound and gagged to his headboard.

What the fuck?

Tears begin to stream from your eyes, first one then more than you can hope to keep track of.

"Oh, lass," Johnny coos, genuine fucking concern carved into the lines of his face. He leans forward and cups both hands around your cheeks, thumbs swiping beneath your eyes to clear away the wetness. His warmth is a shock against the chilled skin of your face, bringing everything into even sharper focus as your head clears more and more. "Hush, don't cry. It's okay, it's okay, 'm gonna take care of you, yeah? Just had to tie you up all pretty for Simon, you wanna look good for him when he comes home, don't you?"

You finally go still at that, desperate movements jerking to a sudden stop. Simon...?

Surely he wouldn't... surely he doesn't mean to share you?

Knew you'd be perfect for us.

I'll get you off too... 'm not selfish, hen, won't leave you wanting. Not like-

Oh god. Oh god, he means to share you. With another man.

"You're gonna love him, baby," Johnny continues above you, either unaware or uncaring of the wave of terror beginning to overtake you. "He seems real mean and scary at first, but I promise he'll be so nice after. I'll make sure he's nice, ok? Won't let him be too mean to my baby. Whatever he'll do, you'll like," he smirks down at you, like you're both in on some joke. "I always do."

He shifts his hands down your cheeks and your neck, landing firmly over your breasts and giving them a tight squeeze. "For now..." he dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking so softly for a man doing all of this without your permission. "I'll take care of you, yeah? I'll loosen you up so good for him, lovie."

He plays with your breasts for several minutes, drool sliding across your chest when he can't decide which tit to focus on. You begin to shift out of your frozen state of shock, his words slowly registering in your head while he plays with you.

You jerk again, wrists twisting desperately to try and find any sort of weak spot to tug against, air puffing harshly through the gag. Johnny frowns up at you from where he's sucking at your nipple, brows furrowing as he glances between your hands. He pulls himself reluctantly away from you, pushing up and gripping just below the ties with a stern look on his face. "No, lassie. These ropes are rough, I don't want you to hurt yourself just because you're tryin' to get away from a good thing. Stop tryin' to break yer damn wrists, yeah?"

You glare at him furiously, absolutely astounded by the man's audacity. His frown morphs into a smirk verging on mean as he leans closer to your face. "You gon' listen for me, huh? Gonna be a good girl for me so I can finish eating out your pretty cunt?" You let out a sharp noise of anger, lurching forward to try and slam your forehead into his.

He jerks back before you can make contact, shock flashing briefly across his features before a laugh bursts from his lips while you're forced back by the restraints, huffing and puffing angrily. "Easy, lovie. Try somethin' like that with Simon and he won't be so nice as I am."

With that he gives your forearms a little squeeze and a rub, then lowers himself between your thighs to apparently get right back to work. You jerk as his tongue pokes out to prod at your clit, hips thrusting as much as they can in your tight bindings and noises falling past your lips without your control.

Johnny lets out a loud groan at his first taste of you. He scoops his arms under your thighs, hands landing at the base of your spine and your thighs in the crease of his elbows, holding his own face as deep in your cunt as he can and gets to work.

If his work last night was nasty, this is animalistic. He's not doing this for your pleasure, he's doing it for his. His tongue doesn't stay on your clit, it doesn't even stay on your cunt itself - he licks all around your core, the creases of your thighs where sweat begins to drip, even down to your sensitive asshole (you jerk and yelp at the sensation, and you feel the rumble of his laughter as he pushes his tongue in there, thrusting a few times before moving to stuff as much as he could into your pussy).

You fight against it, cunt pulsing and trying to force out the invasion when it ventures there, hips writhing desperately - towards and away, but you don't think about it, you don't want more of this, you want to get away from him and from the pleasure he gives - and your head rolling back and forth on the pillow.

The worst part, probably, is the fact that you can't hide your noises. The gag in your mouth doesn't let you keep anything to yourself, even the tiniest whine or sigh is clear as day with the way your lips are forced open.

You're discovering that grunts and moans of anger, of fear, sound very similar to grunts and moans of pleasure. It makes your eyes well up with tears all over again, which just pisses you off even more.

Johnny's apparently unaware of your tumultuous mental state, eating at your cunt like a fucking Christmas feast.

He seems to decide you should come a few moments later, focusing his attention onto your clit and slipping two fingers inside of where you're neediest and adding a solid pressure against your g-spot. The sudden stretch, the slight sting from last night, draws a high noise from you and your hips jut sharply into the air. Johnny's response is to lightly wrap his teeth around your clit, slowly biting down and gradually applying pressure - tongue still flicking away - until you come.

This orgasm, forced from your body, drives you insane. You shout from behind the gag and slam your head forward rather than back, desperate for the freedom of any movement you can get. Your hips grind as much as they can between the ropes and Johnny's hand, trying to work through the overwhelming sensations for you.

When you're finished, body gone limp in acceptance your brain hasn't caught up with, he doesn't move. His face remains planted in your pussy, breath warm and wet against your sensitive flesh, but his fingers slip from your tender passage. A moment later, once you've calmed down a bit and can't do anything but stare wide-eyed at the ceiling, he heaves himself up to his knees and stares down at your body.

His face is soaked, your slick nearly dripping from his chin. There's a shine on his fucking throat.

Not entirely conscious of your movements, you try to get the gag out of your mouth again. You wiggle your tongue around it, trying to force under the ring so you can... you're not even really sure. Suck it into your mouth and spit it out? That might work if it wasn't tied around your fucking head. Regardless, you can't even get the tip of your tongue beneath the metal, top or bottom, so -

Johnny's loud groan interrupts your thoughts, freezing your movements. He's staring at your lips, pupils blown and chest rising and falling dramatically with his breaths. "Fuck, lovie, keep- keep movin' your tongue like that."

You don't listen but he crawls up your body anyway. You have a moment of panic, worried about this massive man dropping his body weight onto your thighs when he sits his ass down on them and rests his knees right by your ears, but he locks a hand around the headboard and holds up most of his own weight.

Small mercies, you think, then immediately curse yourself for even thinking anything positive towards this asshole.

If you thought you were immobile before, you're really learning the meaning of it now. With his weight resting on you - even just the little bit he allows - you can't move any part of yourself other than your fingers and toes.

"Yer fuckin' mouths so pretty, baby. Just gonna... just gonna fuck it a little, yeah?" Your eyes go wide at his murmured words and he's quick to stroke a hand down the side of your head, thumb tracing the forced shape of your lips. "I'll be gentle, promise, just need to be inside you. Won't even choke you on it, just need..." he trails off as his hips shift forward, tip just barely squeezing past the gag and into your mouth. You let out a high keen, and even the little vibrations make him throw his head back with closed eyes and groan.

He's true to his word, the bastard, only thrusting shallowly in and out as his free hand massages his own balls. You can only sit there, desperately trying to clamp your jaw down until that sends a sharp spike of pain up your skull and drags a high yelp from your throat. Johnny's eyelids briefly lift to check on you but quickly slip closed again.

This feels far more like a violation than his finger had. You're helpless to his movements even more now, simply forced to sit there and keep your tongue as still as possible in an attempt to steal even a modicum of his pleasure.

You don't know how long Johnny plays with your mouth. All you can do is lay there and wait.

Your noises are muffled by the cock in your mouth, and the slow pace seems to be the secret to keeping him relatively quiet. So when there's a loud slam outside of the bedroom, followed by what sound like heavy footsteps, you both take instant notice.

There's a moment where you think, delusionally, that someone must be here to help you. But then your see the rapidly growing elation on Johnny's face as he pulls himself free of your mouth, and you remember.

Just had to tie you up all pretty for Simon.

You're gonna love him, baby.

You can't help but let out a low cry at the realization, tears falling yet again.

Johnny doesn't even comfort you this time, just extracts himself from you and leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead before nearly trotting out of the bedroom, cock swinging proudly between his legs.

-----

Ghost's back. Finally, finally, Simon is fucking back. Soap's so excited by the knowledge that he's able to completely forget about his dick for the few steps it takes him to reach his partner.

Ghost's wearing a hoodie that's tight around his torso (one of Johnny's, he recognizes, knows that means he did miss Johnny, the pain at their separation wasn't just in his head) and low hanging sweatpants with his skull balaclava covering the bottom half of his face, black makeup smeared around his eye sockets from sweat. If Soap weren't hard as a rock already he'd certainly be by now.

He throws himself into his lieutenant's arms with a grin, leaning forward and leaving a loud, wet kiss on the covering over his face. Soap leans back to run a hand through the blonde hair, sees the heat in Simon's eyes and throbs.

Ghost cranes his head down and gives a perfunctory look over his unabashedly naked body and leaking cock. "That needy already, Johnny?"

"Yeah, L.t.," Soap replies, breath still coming out in pants from his grinning lips. "Been playin' with your anniversary present all morning."

Just on cue, there's a sound distinctly like a wail from behind the cracked open bedroom door. Johnny can't help but grin at the sound of your desperation, cock twitching between their bodies.

Ghost's eyes flick over to the door, then an eyebrow cocks above blue eyes. "Anniversary?"

Johnny can't help but roll his eyes, grasping Ghost's wrist and tugging him in the direction of their bedroom. He follows easily. "Don' play dumb, Si. Doesn't suit you."

Ghost doesn't get a chance to respond as Johnny swings their door open, pulling him into the room with the excitement of an overeager pup. "Ta-da," he beams, free hand gesturing to you. "Found her in a club. She's perfect. Feels like heaven around your cock, and fights when you fuck her through an orgasm." He can't help but chuckle, eyes drawn back to your form.

Your own eyes are wide with panic and locked on Ghost. Johnny feels a little bad for you, squirming little pathetic thing you've become, knowing how scary the man must seem to you. Johnny only comes up to Ghost's nose, and he has to suppress a groan at the thought of how wide Simon is compared to him, how the older man is going to absolutely crush you.

A rough and hot hand clamps on the nape of Johnny's neck, and he instinctively tears his eyes from you to Ghost. The man's thumb plucks at the chain his dog tags hang from, leaning just a bit toward his face. "This your gift?"

All Johnny can do is nod, a soft whine creeping out of his throat at the familiar representation of Ghost's control over him.

Simon's eyes crinkle and Soap knows there's a smile hidden under the mask. He leans forward and presses his covered lips to Johnny's forehead. "Good fuckin' boy, MacTavish."

#john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #bo writes #dark fic #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish #Johnny soap mactavish x reader #Johnny soap mactavish x you #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod #call of duty #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare fanfic

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gogh-with-the-flow · 9 months

Text

Blood in the Wine masterlist!!!

After moving to London all by yourself, you're struggling to make any meaningful connections. So, when a handsome stranger invites you out, you jump at the offer. However, you soon find yourself in way over your head when he reveals much more than what you expected: not just one, but four creatures of the night, thirsty for a taste of YOU. Will you make a valiant escape? Or will you allow yourself to fall into their hungry arms?

Blood in the Wine on AO3

Fic rating: M to E, 18+ only

Chapter One: Hibiscus Tea

Chapter Two: Reflections

Chapter Three: Nightcap

Chapter Four: Botanicals

Chapter Five: Tannins (E)

Chapter Six: Merlot (E)

Chapter Seven: Mead (NEW)

Banner by @bloodyknucklesforme

Other works:

141 Mechanic!AU

Part 1 (E)

Part 2 (E)

Cheating!Soap (Angst, hurt/no comfort)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Our Girlfriend (Gaz x reader to poly!141 x reader, smut)

Another Kind of Pleasure (Ghaz sounding)

#cod #blood in the wine #bitw #vampire!141 #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #poly!141

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writeforfandoms · 10 months

Text

Howlin’ For You

Find my CoD masterlist

Wolf shifter!Soap gets himself lost on a run one night and runs into you. The problem? You think he's a dog and take him home to try and find his people. Naturally, Soap falls head over heels.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, shifter lore, world building, I just kinda throw y’all in the deep end, Price is pack dad.

Word count: 8k

Alright. So maybe the nighttime run had been a bad idea. Maybe. And maybe Soap shouldn’t have shifted on his own. And maaaaaybe he should have paid more attention to where he was going.

But he wasn’t lost! He’d never been lost in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He just… had to find the right road back to base. That was all.

He briefly debated shifting back, but he didn’t fancy having to explain why he was running around naked. Price would kill him for that. And then Ghost would probably kill him, too.

So he huffed and continued trotting along. Fortunately the wound in his shoulder had healed enough not to bother him at this easy pace, though he was careful to monitor it. Despite what medical said, he didn’t like being benched for injuries.

Which was why he’d gone on a night run in the first place. Couldn’t sleep, pack was gone on a mission, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

…Yeah this had definitely been a bad idea.

Soap huffed again, pausing to shake himself off. He’d slid down a hill earlier, which hadn’t hurt him, but it had half-covered him in mud. He did not approve. He would much rather be clean.

And he’d get to clean off just as soon as he got back to base.

Lifting his nose, he sniffed around for any hint he could pick up. But there was nothing special here - hints of deer and rabbits, old car smell, and tiny whiffs of human. But not a particular human, not like he was close to infringing on anyone’s property.

Which meant he was pretty well in the middle of nowhere.

Gaz was never going to let him live this down.

His ears pricked and he turned his head as he heard a car coming down the road, slowly getting louder. He trotted a couple steps off to the side, just in case, and watched as the car rounded the bend, headlights even brighter in the relative dark to his eyes. The car slowed and the hazard lights turned on, flashing orange in the dark, even as the car slowed to a stop on the shoulder.

The driver’s door opened and Soap tensed a little, watching carefully. But it was just a woman - she smelled good. Human, absolutely, but good. His nose twitched in interest.

“Hey pup,” she greeted, getting out of her car and crouching down. “You okay over there? Where are your people?”

Oh. She thought he was a dog. Well, he supposed she could be forgiven for that - it was dark, and he was muddy, and okay yeah he did kind of look like a dog. Gaz liked to tease him about it sometimes.

“I’ve got some goodies here,” she continued, moving slowly, pulling a bag out of her car. The crinkle caused his ears to perk, and he sniffed hopefully. Smelled like jerky. Mmm. “You want some? C’mere, I’ve got plenty.” She tossed a piece about half-way across the road, and he trotted forward to gobble it up.

Really, she was nowhere near a threat, even with him on four legs. He could get himself out of trouble easily enough.

“Good pup,” she crooned, keeping her voice gentle. “You want more?” She held out a piece to him.

Soap paused to consider this. On the one hand, free food. On the other, she was clearly trying to get him close enough to check for a collar, which she wouldn’t find.

Well. If nothing else, she’d get him back to civilization, and from there he could figure out how to get back to base. He’d be fine.

So he stepped forward to take the jerky from her, making sure to be very gentle. He didn’t even flinch as her free hand checked for a collar.

“Looks like you escaped from someone’s yard,” she mused softly, gaze sweeping over him. “Alright. Do you wanna come in the car? Go on a little car ride? I’ll give you more jerky.”

Soap just wagged his tail at her, waiting patiently as she opened the back door before he hopped in. At least she didn’t try to buckle him in, he hated that. She did give him another piece of jerky, as promised, before she slid back into the driver’s seat.

This was going to be interesting.

–

You couldn’t help glancing back at the dog in the backseat. Partially to make sure he was okay, partially because you were nervous, and partially because you were trying to figure out if you’d seen him before. He was a big dog, but very well behaved. Hopefully you’d be able to get the mud off of him to get a better look at him.

The vet was undoubtedly closed by now, so you wouldn’t be able to get him checked for a microchip until morning.

But you couldn’t regret bringing him home. You just didn’t have it in you to leave a dog on the side of the road, especially one so obviously a beloved pet.

You parked in front of your tiny house, getting out and gathering up your things before letting the dog out. You had another piece of jerky in hand, hoping that would entice him to cooperate.

“This way,” you murmured to the dog, watching him hop down out of your car. “C’mon, let’s go inside and get cleaned up. And maybe have some dinner, hmm?”

The dog wagged his tail again and trotted right up to the front door, like he expected to be let in. You laughed softly but let him in, giving him the piece of jerky and then giving him a minute to sniff around.

“Alright, if you’re a pet, you should know better than to potty in the house,” you said, setting your things down. “Shower first, I think. For you.” You eyed the muddy pawprints left on the floor and decided that was now a tomorrow problem. “Okay. C’mon pup.” You tapped the side of your thigh, and the dog followed you back to your bathroom.

He didn’t even protest getting in the shower, thankfully. Just stood under the spray calmly.

The problems started when you got out the shampoo. (Which, honestly, you were amazed you still had any under your sink, you’d bought it for a friend’s dog ages ago.)

Then he boofed softly, circling in the shower and refusing to hold still for more than a second at a time. He kept pulling his paws away from you.

“Stubborn,” you grumbled at the dog, though you couldn’t help but laugh when he kept walking under your hand, inadvertently spreading the shampoo. “Well, I guess this is one way to do it.”

Rinsing off was another exercise in patience - the dog didn’t want to hold still, and ended up shaking muddy soap suds all over the shower, and your clothes. You just sighed deeply.

“Don’t make me regret being nice to you,” you grumbled, finally washing off the last of the soap. “Alright, guess it’s time to dry off.”

The dog bounded out of the shower and bounced around the tiny bathroom. Seriously bounced. Water got everywhere, and you just stared for a moment in absolute dismay.

“Definitely regretting all my life choices.” But you grabbed a towel and started working on drying him off.

It took two towels before you released him into the rest of the house and changed out of your dirty clothes.

The dog, of course, acted like nothing was wrong and sat patiently in the kitchen, tail wagging.

“You’re a menace,” you told the dog, although you started gathering up ingredients anyway. “It’s probably super late for your dinner, but oh well. This is when I normally eat.” You paused. “Shit, you can’t eat some things, right? Hang on.” You whipped out your phone to do a bit of frantic googling.

The dog boofed again, walked two circles around you, and then laid down with the biggest sigh. You looked away from your phone and right into big gorgeous blue puppy dog eyes… and you caved, crouching down to scratch his ears.

“You’re just too cute,” you grumbled. “I can’t be mad at you.” You stroked your hand down the dog’s back. “You’re a handsome boy too, aren’t you?” He really was, mostly red with a white stripe down his nose, white socks, and a little white blotch at his shoulders. You’d lay even odds that he was part husky.

He stayed where he was as you cooked, humming a little to yourself, big eyes following your every move. But at least he wasn’t underfoot.

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the vet, see if you’ve got a microchip,” you told him, leaning back against the counter to let everything cook a bit. “And if not, I’ll put up signs. You can’t have traveled too far.”

The dog just sat up when you plated food, leaving a bowl on the ground for him. You’d checked all the ingredients and just had to hope it wouldn’t upset his stomach.

After throwing the dishes in the sink and taking him out for a potty break, you were more than ready for bed.

Apparently, so was the dog, as he immediately hopped up on your bed.

“Hey!” You frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The dog wagged his tail at you and then circled the end of the bed before laying down, curled into an almost perfect circle.

“Oh my god.” You threw your hands up and turned to get ready for bed. “Fine, but don’t complain if I kick you in the middle of the night.”

But if you were being honest with yourself, when you laid down to sleep, the soft breathing and the warmth of the dog was… soothing. He made you feel less alone, less isolated.

You reminded yourself firmly to not get attached, because he wasn’t staying.

So, of course, he wasn’t microchipped.

“Nope,” the vet tech confirmed the following morning. “No microchip. I don’t recognize him, either.”

“Well, it was worth a try,” you said on a sigh, patting the dog’s head. “Thanks for checking for me.”

“Sure thing!”

“Guess I need to make some posters,” you said, looking down at the dog. He boofed at you, tail wagging.

You had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

–

Soap actually hadn’t meant to stay this long. He really hadn’t. But, well, you were pretty and lonely. It wasn’t hard for him to smell it on you, although it was less pervasive when he stuck near you.

And the team wasn’t supposed to be back for a few more days, so it wasn’t a problem to stay for a little longer.

(He could also admit, if only to himself, that he also needed more time to orient himself. He had no idea where the fuck he had ended up.)

Maybe it was a bad idea, but he was making it work. And he wasn’t stupid, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay long. Tonight, probably, he’d have to leave. Now that he knew where he was and where he needed to go.

Hell, he knew that if Price found out, he’d have Soap’s head. Staying with an uninitiated human was risky, even though he had excellent control of his shifts. And it wasn’t just a risk to himself, but to his whole team.

Bad decisions seemed to be the theme of his forced downtime, though.

He’d just have to leave tonight and sneak back onto base. No big deal. Nobody would know, he wouldn’t get in trouble, everything would be fine.

He did feel a bit bad when he hopped down lightly from your bed. Hopefully you wouldn’t spend too much time looking for him.

Making sure to leave the back door cracked open a few inches to show how he’d gotten out, Soap trotted off back towards base. It would be tight, getting back in before sunrise, but he’d always enjoyed a good challenge.

He didn’t enjoy being wrong.

Which he very much was.

Price stood outside the barracks, arms crossed, staring down at him. Soap gulped, ears flattening to his head, tail tucked.

“Inside,” Price growled, opening the door for him. Soap slunk through the door, obediently following Price down the hall and to his room.

By now, the lot of them had no shame around each other. Hard to be body-shy when they’d all shifted together, many times, and shared sometimes tight sleeping quarters. So Soap just waited until the door was closed to shift back to human.

“Explain.” Price leaned back against the door, arms crossed over his chest again.

“Didn’t think ye’d be back so soon,” Soap muttered, grabbing a shirt first.

Price didn’t say anything, just stared Soap down, even and outwardly calm as only he could be.

“Just went for a run,” Soap said, shrugging, even as he grabbed more clean clothes to pull on. “No’ a big thing.”

“Must have been a long run.”

“Aye.” Soap swallowed. “Might’ve gone farther than I wanted.”

Price nodded once. “Any trouble?”

Soap shook his head. “Nah. I was careful.”

Finally, Price’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. And your shoulder?”

“Almost healed.” Soap relaxed too, grinning briefly. “I’m careful ‘bout it!”

Price snorted his disbelief of that. “Then you can go running with Ghost. 0600.”

Soap didn’t groan, because that wouldn’t help his case. He tried not to pout, because this was absolutely a punishment, and they both knew it. “Yes, sir.”

Price nodded once and let himself out, the door clicking shut softly after him. Soap flopped face-first onto his bed and groaned into his pillow.

–

You tried hard not to be heartbroken when you found the back door open a little, cold morning air wafting in. The dog was gone.

Hopefully he’d find his way back home on his own.

You spent the next three days keeping your eyes open any time you went anywhere, just in case. If he was still lost, well, at least he knew you. You could always make more dog-friendly food.

And when you didn’t see the dog for a week, you figured that was it. He’d found his way back home. That was okay. It was much better for him to be at home. You wouldn’t wish losing a dog on anyone. At least, not anyone who took such good care of their dog.

You parked in front of your house and slumped forward, forehead resting on the steering wheel. You were tired. Exhausted, really. The kind of exhausted that came from too little sleep and stress and probably a little bit of touch starvation.

You might have stayed right there for longer, trying to find the energy to move, except there was a woof, and then the car shook a little as a dog stood on its hind legs to look in the window. The dog.

“What the hell?” You blinked at the dog and then grabbed your things, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

The dog wagged happily at you, boofing at you and running up to the front door. When you didn’t move fast enough, he ran back to you, tail still wagging.

“I thought you went home.” You blinked again but moved slowly to the door, opening the door. The dog pushed past you to head inside, trotting right along. He looked good - no mud this time, at least. His coat looked good, and he didn’t look like he’d lost any weight. So he was being taken care of.

Even if he had escaped yet again.

“You’re going to give your people a heart attack,” you scolded gently, locking the door behind you before putting your things down. “How did you even get back here?”

He whined a little, excited, tail still going a mile a minute as he tried to wait patiently for you in the kitchen. You dropped a hand to pat the top of his head, opening your fridge to look inside.

Not that there was much to see. You hadn’t been shopping, and it showed.

“Um.” You frowned, glancing down at the dog. “Hm. Well, I can probably whip up something.”

The dog watched you, sitting just at the edge of your space so he was barely not in the way, eyes bright and ears perked. He was pretty big for a husky, even though the coloring matched. He was probably a mutt of some kind, but you were a bit surprised at his size.

“Here you go, big boy.” You set a bowl down for him again and took your own plate to the tiny table.

Where you sat and stared at it, stomach turning. You needed to eat. You knew you needed to eat.

You just… didn’t want to.

The dog rested his head on your thigh, whining softly. But he was looking up at you, not at your plate.

“It’s okay, pup,” you immediately murmured, one hand dropping to scratch between his ears. “You still hungry? I’ll give you more in a little bit, have to make sure that settles okay first.” You gently rubbed your thumb over his furry forehead and between his eyes in slow, soothing strokes. His eyes closed with a big sigh.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you sat there, curiously blank, stroking this dog. Long enough that your food had gone cold. Finally, you gave up on it and put a bit more into the dog’s bowl before putting the rest away for another day.

Your bedtime routine was barely disturbed by the dog, and he once again hopped up onto your bed. This time, you didn’t protest, just let him get comfortable.

And when his head landed on your thigh, his warmth stretched out next to your legs, you just sighed softly and closed your eyes.

You weren’t sure if you were surprised or not when you woke to an empty bed and chilly morning air.

It took a while to drag yourself through your routine, getting ready for work by rote, brain definitely not engaged yet. Why bother?

But you still stopped, blinking owlishly at the sight of the dog sitting in the middle of the kitchen, tail wagging, jaws parted in a doggy grin.

“Oh. You’re still here.” You felt dumb saying it out loud, admitting to what you’d assumed. That he was gone again. And then you felt even more stupid because he couldn’t reply and didn’t even know what you’d said. “Well. I guess you’ll want breakfast, then.”

You reheated the leftovers from last night for him and set them down before getting your own things ready. You still had a few minutes before you had to leave for work, which you spent pondering what to do with the dog.

You couldn’t leave him locked inside. It wasn’t fair to him, and you didn’t want to come home to a ruined house.

He solved your dilemma by walking to the front door and sitting calmly, looking back at you. You huffed out something close to a laugh.

“Well, I guess you know your way home by now,” you agreed, gathering up your things and opening the front door for him. “Be careful, there are always idiots on the road.”

The dog boofed at you once before trotting off again, tail held high.

You got in your car and went to work.

–

Soap wasn’t an idiot. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew he should put you out of his mind and move on, because you didn’t know and couldn’t know about his nature.

But something about you just… pulled at him. Maybe it was how uncomplicated things were with you. Maybe it was the way you smiled for him. Maybe it was that he could help you feel better.

Maybe it was that his wolf loved the way you smelled and wanted to just bury himself in your blankets.

Whatever it was, Soap ended up sneaking away to you just about every chance he got. Any time the team had downtime, he was off. He couldn’t go during the full moon, because the pack always ran that night together, but he still managed to make time to go visit you.

“If you keep running off, Cap’s gonna follow you one day,” Gaz said as he dropped down next to Soap.

Soap huffed. “He hasn’t yet,” he pointed out, mostly just to be contrary.

“Ghost will, then.”

Soap had no retaliation for that because LT absolutely would. Actually, he was a little surprised that Ghost hadn’t already.

“Might be better to just come clean about wherever it is you run off to,” Gaz continued, slanting a look at the Scot even as he pushed food around his plate.

Soap huffed. Gaz was… not exactly wrong. But it still wasn’t a good idea. Not even close. He needed to figure out how to tell Price without the captain flipping.

“Don’t suppose you’re offering t’ help,” he grumbled, side-eyeing the other sergeant.

Gaz perked up a little, taking a moment to think as he chewed. “Might be,” he mumbled. “For an interesting enough reason.”

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea.

But Gaz was right - this was going to blow up in his face sooner or later. He could mitigate the damage with a bit of help and a fair bit of luck.

“Swear you won’t tell.” Soap held his gaze, drawing himself up a little straighter.

Gaz looked briefly taken aback before he nodded, slow and serious. “I swear.”

Soap nodded, took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. (Well. Not the beginning, because he still refused to admit that he’d been… temporarily discombobulated.)

After the expected razzing (and only a bit of shoving), Gaz stood to clear his place, Soap scrambling a little after him. A quick look around and the two went back to Gaz’s bunk to talk quietly.

“Right,” Gaz muttered, gaze darting around as he plotted. “I want to meet her.”

Soap puffed up, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“To see what she’s like for myself.” Gaz shoved him a bit with a little huff. “No offense, mate, but you’re a bit smitten.”

Soap opened his mouth to protest… and then shut it again. Because. Well. He couldn’t, in fact, protest that. He swallowed.

“This is not a good idea,” Gaz muttered. “Got a couple days off coming up, yeah?”

“Aye,” Soap agreed slowly.

“We’ll both go.”

Soap blinked at that. “Shifted?”

“Well, you said she takes you in, thinks you’re a dog.” Gaz shrugged. “Probably won’t think any different of me.”

This was truly a terrible idea. Part of Soap rebelled at the idea for no good reason, too - you were his, and he didn’t want to share you. But he’d have to. Especially if he ever wanted more with you than the stolen moments as a wolf.

“Right.” Soap breathed in deep. “We’ll try it.”

–

You almost didn’t even bother to get out of bed. But it was after noon, and you needed to drink something at least. Even if the very thought of food made you nauseous. So you shoved yourself out of bed, hands shaking only a little as you put the kettle on.

A soft woof at the back door nearly made you drop your mug, and you fumbled for a few moments before you saved it and put it on the counter instead.

There was a dog at your door. No, scratch that. The dog was at your door. With a friend.

“What the fuck.” You stared at the two dogs, blinking stupidly. The second dog was just as big, medium gray with the classic black saddle and tail tip. His snout was black too. Almost like a German shepherd, but in gray instead of tan.

Your dog, the red and white one, woofed again, tail wagging. Almost on autopilot, you opened the door for him.

“What the fuck,” you said again, watching as the second dog came in too, just as easy and confident as your dog. “Damn I wish you could talk. Is this your buddy? Do you live together? Have you both escaped the same yard? Or did you steal someone else’s dog?” You rubbed a hand over your eyes.

The kettle started whistling, and you trudged over to it to pour hot water for tea. Your dog kept pace with you, sniffing your legs and then your belly and whining softly at you.

“I dunno what you want,” you said, one hand drifting down to his head, rubbing a soft ear between your fingers. “It’s not dinner time. …I think.” You frowned, squinting at your phone. “No. Too early.”

The other dog kept a little more distance but did sniff your hand and accepted a couple gentle head pats. Tea helped you feel more steady, and your dog hopped up on the couch to curl up next to you.

“You can relax,” you told the other dog quietly, eyelids already drooping again. “You’re safe here. I’ll make dinner for you later.”

The other dog laid down on the floor a couple feet from the two of you, head resting on his paws, eyes open and trained on you. You didn’t take it personally, just huffing a soft laugh and closing your eyes the rest of the way.

“It’s too bad you have to go,” you muttered, hand resting on your dog’s head, which was pillowed on your thigh. “Nice to have some company.”

Your dog sighed, warm even through your clothes, and wiggled even closer to you. An afternoon nap was definitely in order today.

You woke to the sound of grumbling. Not quite a growl but not exactly a happy sound either. You blinked a few times, lifting your head (ow) to try to figure out what was going on.

Your dog was perched over you, head low, grumbling a little at the other dog. Who huffed right back at him, ears flicking forward and back.

“No fighting,” you mumbled, almost reflexively. “Or take it outside or something.”

Both dogs paused, looking at you, and your dog sniffed your face before licking your nose. You blew out a breath that was almost a laugh.

“C’mon, get off. I’ll cook.” You pushed the dog, more or less gently, until he hopped off the couch.

Cooking didn’t make you nauseous, at least. Even if you still had very little interest in eating anything.

The two dogs seemed to have given up on whatever spat woke you up, for which you were grateful. Your house was not at all dog proofed, and you were amazed nothing had been broken yet.

You forced yourself to shower, because you needed to and it was easier to motivate yourself to do something with the dog around. Then you sat up for a little while reading, your dog curled up on your bed with his head resting on your stomach, the other dog laying on the floor near the foot of the bed.

You were honestly surprised when you woke up and they were both still there, two heads popping up as soon as you sat up.

You finally felt better this morning. You’d slept better, too. You actually ate after you cooked and spent a bit of time outside, watching the two tear around the yard chasing each other.

But when your dog stopped next to you just as the sun began to sink, you knew.

“Time to go back home?” you asked him, smoothing down his fur from his playtime. He whined softly, wiggling closer to you and resting his head on your knee to look up at you with those big blue puppy eyes. “Well. You be careful.” You gently smoothed your fingers over the top of his head, smiling a little even though it hurt. “I don’t wanna hear about any dogs getting run over, okay?”

He huffed out through his nose, his eyes closing as he leaned his weight into your legs. You chuckled, patting his head before removing your hand entirely.

“Okay. Go on, before it gets dark.”

He looked up at you, almost pleading, before a soft bark from the other dog got his attention. His ears half-lowered, and he licked your hand once before he backed off and then darted off to join his friend.

The two of them were gone from your sight in moments.

You didn’t move until the cold forced you to go back inside.

–

“You,” Gaz started once they were both back in human skin, “are so fucked.”

Soap slumped. “Donnae remind me,” he groaned.

“So fucked,” Gaz continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Pretty sure your wolf has all but actually claimed her.”

Soap rubbed a hand over his face, because Gaz wasn’t wrong. But you had no idea he was a shifter, and he couldn’t tell you without Price’s permission. Which meant he also couldn’t pursue anything with you until you knew. It was… a situation. Definitely.

“Lucky for you, I have an idea.”

Soap perked up at that, hopeful. “Aye?”

Gaz had already grabbed his phone, typing quickly. “We can’t tell her,” he said, gaze focused on his phone. “But we can give her a nudge in the right direction.”

Soap leaned over, trying to see what Gaz was doing. “Gaz,” he said slowly, confused. “Why are ye texting yer mum?”

“Trust me.” Gaz flashed him a grin that was mostly teeth. “She had to woo Dad. She can help.”

This was probably a terrible idea. But. It was better than anything he’d come up with. So Soap shrugged, letting it happen.

“Now, for the other part of this plan.” Gaz grinned as he dug through Soap’s things, ignoring the Scot’s grumbling, until he found the collar. (Soap had drawn the short stick and had been stuck for an op. The collar had been to make him look less threatening. Fortunately for everyone involved, it had been a short op.)

“No.” Soap crossed his arms over his chest, glowering.

“Just wait,” Gaz soothed, grinning like the looney he clearly was. “I have a plan.”

Soap groaned. This was going to end terribly. For him.

–

There was a box on your front porch. You blinked at it, confused. You hadn’t ordered anything. And yet your name was written on top of the box, with no shipping address or return address.

You brought the box inside. Foolish, maybe, but it was too cold outside to stand out there and go through the box.

A handful of books filled the box most of the way, with a letter on top. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you opened the letter first.

Keep an open mind while you read the books. There’s some very good information here. Things will make sense sooner or later.

It was unsigned, of course. You huffed. If this was a prank, it was pretty elaborate.

So you pulled out the books, examining them one at a time. The first one looked hand-written, with no information on the title page. The second book was labeled, simply, Etiquette. The other two books were no better, giving you very little information.

It took a good five pages for you to figure out the handwritten book was about werewolves. Or wolf-shifters? The terminology became confusing very quickly.

It felt like a prank. You were sure someone was going to pop up and prank you, maybe record your reaction. Who, you didn’t know, but still. The feeling persisted.

Because this? This was crazy. This was an entire secret society, a subset of the population that lived an entire secret life. It was impossible.

And yet you kept reading.

But you forced yourself to stop and walk away after you finished that book, having barely moved. You needed to eat. You needed to drink something. You needed a damn reality check.

Even so… Even so, you came back to the books after a meal and a walk. The little pile taunted you until you swore and swiped up the next book.

Which was all on shifter-people etiquette. Apparently. How they interacted with each other, how they interacted with humans.

Even if this did turn out to be a prank of some kind, it was an incredibly elaborate one.

One you couldn’t get out of your head.

It took a few days to read through all the books in between work, but you did. And then you went back and took a few notes, because some things were just… too interesting. Too unique.

You did keep the books in your bedroom. Not that you had a lot of company (or any), but it felt… wrong. To leave them out on display. So you hid them away.

You couldn’t explain why, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Now if only you could figure out why.

It was another three weeks until the dog came back, once again arriving at your house at almost the same time you did. He looked the same as always, tail wagging, jaws parted in a canine grin.

Except he was wearing a collar.

“Oh so your person does have a collar for you,” you grumbled, opening the front door for him. “Look at that, it’s practically a miracle.”

He boofed softly at you before running around to sniff everything, clearly trying to get caught up on whatever he’d missed. Which was… not much. A spill of take-out one night, a few naps on the couch, and late dinners after work.

Typical for you.

“Alright, c’mere pup.” You tapped your thigh, pulling your phone out. “Let me call your person to come get you.”

The dog drooped a little but obediently walked back to you, sitting patiently while you dialed the number you found on his tag. “Soap,” you mumbled, examining the tag. “Who the hell names their dog Soap?”

“Yes?” The man who answered the phone sounded brusque, borderline rude. You blinked, caught off guard.

“Um, hi. I have your dog? He’s been wandering over to my place recently and, um, I figured you might want to come get him?” Your eyes slammed shut. You hadn’t meant to make that a question. Really. Your people skills were seriously awful.

There was silence, then a sigh. “Soap?” he asked, dry with a hint of humor.

“Yeah.” You looked down at the dog, absently petting the top of his head.

“Right. I’ll be there soon. What’s the address?”

You hesitated for a moment before rattling it off. Well. He probably wasn’t secretly an axe murderer with such a sweet dog.

There was a soft grunt as he confirmed the address. “It’ll be about an hour,” he said. And hung up.

“Well,” you muttered, looking down at your phone, “rude.”

Soap whined at you softly, pawing at you gently until you resumed petting him.

“Guess we’ve got an hour, buddy.” You stretched and stepped around Soap into the kitchen. “I need food or I’m gonna be hangry when your person gets here, and nobody wants that.” You slanted a look at him. “I assume you want food?”

Soap’s tail started wagging, even though he sat patiently in his normal spot out of the way.

“Yeah, okay.” You huffed a little laugh and started pulling out ingredients. “You were gone for a while, buddy. I was worried about you.” You didn’t expect any kind of reaction from the dog.

Which is why you startled when he pressed his nose to your thigh with another soft whine. You looked down to find those big blue eyes focused on you, ears half-down, tail wagging slowly.

“Aw, I’m not mad at you,” you murmured, leaning over a bit to scratch under his chin. “You’re okay, cutie.”

His tail thumped faster against the ground, and you had to spend a minute petting him before you could wash your hands and continue with dinner prep.

Somehow, the knock on your door still caught you off-guard, enough that your fork clattered back to your dish. You looked at Soap, who looked back at you, ears up. Then you nodded once and stood, heading to the door.

You opened the door and blinked up at the man on the other side. Muttonchops, floppy hat, stern-set mouth. Big. Broad.

Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

“You called about Soap,” he said, voice brusque, though his tone gentled a little. He also didn’t make a move towards you, which helped a bit.

“I did.” You pulled the door open further, turning to call Soap. Only to find him already right behind you. “Here he is.”

“You’re in trouble,” he said, gaze focused on Soap. “Come on.”

But Soap took two steps forward until he could press against your legs, and stopped there. Leaning a good bit of his weight onto you.

The man blinked once, one eyebrow raising as he looked between you and the dog slowly, something almost calculating in his gaze.

“What are you doing?” you asked Soap, exasperated. “This is your person, you’re supposed to go home with him. Silly pup.”

“He’s stubborn when he gets an idea in his head.” The man planted his hands on his hips, looking down at Soap. “How long has he been runnin’ up here?”

“Oh, a few months.” Something about his tone made you nervous, made you shift your weight. But with Soap still leaning against you, the move ended up almost sending you falling over, and only a quick grab of the doorframe saved you any dignity at all.

The man sighed, shaking his head briefly. “Stubborn,” he muttered again. “Should get Simon out here.”

Curiosity burned at you, but you kept your mouth shut. Instead you nudged Soap, trying to get him to leave your side.

“Go on,” you encouraged him. “Don’t you wanna go home?”

The man’s eyes sharpened suddenly. “What did you say?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Don’t you wanna go home?” You repeated, only a little squeaky.

Soap pressed harder into your legs, shoving his head under your free hand. And then the man sighed noisily.

“Right,” he grunted. “Can I come in?”

“Why?” You stiffened, hand gripping the doorframe tighter.

“We need to have a conversation and I’d rather not do it out the door.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious. This was weird. This was definitely weird. You looked down at Soap, who was still pressed up against you, and back to the man. A little lightbulb went off finally.

“Is this about those books?”

“Books?” He frowned and then shook his head. “We should discuss this inside.”

A little reluctantly, you let him inside. Soap stayed right next to you, going so far as to hop up onto the couch next to you.

“Right,” the man muttered, rubbing a hand briefly over his chin. “What books are you talking about?”

“I got these books, they were in a box on my porch. I thought it was a hoax at first, but…” You stood and jogged back to your room, grabbing the first book, the handwritten one. “I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

He took the book and flipped through the first few pages before he lifted his gaze to Soap. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Soap huffed and rested his head across your lap as soon as you sat down again.

That, more than anything, solidified things in your mind. Soap wasn’t just a dog. Soap was a shifter, of some kind. And undoubtedly this other person was as well.

“Huh.” You looked down at Soap, examining him more carefully. “Guess that’s why you kept finding your way back here, even when you shouldn’t have been able to.”

He just blinked up at you, wiggling a little closer and pushing his nose under your hand.

“What do you know?”

You pulled your gaze back to the man across from you, chewing on your lip for a moment. “Honestly? Just what’s in the books. And like I said, I thought they were a hoax at first. I’m still…” You trailed off, not sure exactly how to express what you were feeling.

He nodded, looking pensively between you and Soap. “Normally, we don’t tell others.” He paused to let that sink in, and you grimaced. “But this one found a way around that.”

Soap’s tail thumped against the couch. Clearly, he was totally unrepentant.

“So.” The man leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

It took hours to cover it all. Price, as you finally learned his name, was more or less patient with you. Less so with Soap.

The two finally left, with promises to bring you to base tomorrow. (Because, that’s right, Soap was apparently military, something you never would have guessed. And apparently Soap deciding you were his person got you some benefits? Honestly you were very unsure about all of this but Soap had given you such big imploring eyes that you’d caved.)

You would have expected that you’d be up for hours longer, pacing, working through everything in your head. Honestly, though, you just had energy for a shower, and then collapsed into bed and slept hard. Clearly, you already had too much on your mind.

You were still scrambling when the knock came at your door in the morning. “Hang on!” you shouted, hopping on one foot to shove your other shoe on, grabbing your purse and making sure you had everything you needed.

Not that you really knew what you’d need, but. You had the basics, at least.

Finally, you yanked the door open to an amused Price standing on your doorstep. Thankfully, he didn’t comment, just raised an eyebrow at you.

The drive was silent. Price kept his gaze on the road, sparing you only the occasional glance. For your part, you were too nervous to try talking.

When Price turned down a long drive to a fenced area, you swallowed hard.

“Nervous?” He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

“A bit,” you admitted, knee bouncing so at least you had some kind of outlet for your nerves.

“Relax.” He slanted a look at you as he slowed near the gate guard. “You’ll be fine.”

You swallowed again, knee bouncing as the guard lifted the gate and let the two of you through. Price continued down the road and pulled into a parking spot, cutting the engine.

You’d known, sort of, that this base was here. People talked about it - that base out of town. Sometimes military men came through to the store or the bar, although you weren’t the closest town to the base.

But being here was something else entirely. You had no idea it was so big - lots of land, all enclosed. Multiple buildings spread out around the area, and you could see a group of runners off in the distance.

“This way,” Price grunted, jerking you from your thoughts. You turned and hurried to follow him inside, fingers twisting around each other, nearly jogging to keep up with his longer strides. He stopped in front of a door, pushing it open and stepping inside. A little more slowly, you followed.

Another man was standing in the middle of the room, mohawk mussed like he’d been running his hands through it, shoulders tense. You almost asked… but you met his gaze, eyes wide.

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but smile, still holding his gaze, those beautiful blue eyes fixed on you. “Your eyes really don’t change at all, do they?”

“Nah.” He smiled slowly, taking a step closer to you.

“Still want me to call you Soap?” You smiled, tipping your chin.

“Or Johnny.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “Ye can call me anythin’ ye want, lovely.”

You warmed at the easy affection, but you didn’t drop his gaze. “Can I…?” You lifted one hand slowly, a little cautious.

Apparently that was all he needed, though, because he stepped straight into your space and wrapped himself around you. You blinked and then snorted, your hand settling at the back of his head to rub against the hairs there.

“Personal space optional?” you teased, though you made absolutely no move away from him.

“What’s yours is mine,” he quipped, squeezing you affectionately.

“Sergeant.” Price sounded exasperated, and you pulled back enough to peek at him, suddenly worried again.

“This is why he didn’t let me drive to get you,” Soap said, unrepentant, shifting his grip on you enough to smooth one hand up and down your back. “Didnae think ah’d come back.”

“No,” Price said, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d come back until tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped you at that, and you relaxed again. “So, what now?”

Price huffed something akin to a laugh. “You get to meet the other two, then we do some paperwork.”

“Speakin’ of.” Soap nodded to the door, grinning. Price heaved a sigh but walked over and pulled the door open.

“Gaz.” He stepped aside to let the other young man in, and you blinked at him. He gave you a quick smile and a little wave, though he gave you a bit of space. Something about him seemed… familiar.

“Did you come with Johnny one day?” You blinked, putting the pieces together. He kept the same bit of distance the other dog had, the same kind of reserved politeness.

Gaz blinked twice, lips parting in surprise. “How’d you guess?”

“I mean, it’s not that big of a leap.” You shrugged, ignoring Soap chuckling.

“We’ll talk about that later,” Price grumbled, shooting Gaz a look. Whoops.

Another man slipped into the room, almost as big as Price, wearing a skull mask. You blinked, a little intimidated.

“LT is a big softie,” Soap whispered in your ear, swaying the two of you side to side just a little.

“Johnny.” The big one sounded vaguely amused but also disapproving.

“This is Ghost,” Price said, since clearly he was the only one in the room with manners.

You twisted in Soap’s arms to look at him, lifting your hand in a little wave. You almost felt awkward with Soap still hanging off of you, but you were also comfortable. Sure, he wasn’t a dog, but still. This felt normal.

“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut, eh, Johnny?” Ghost sounded more amused than anything, though.

“I only told Gaz,” Soap defended, squeezing you a little tighter.

“Yes, about that.” Price raised one eyebrow at Gaz. Who immediately buckled and spilled the whole plot - the two of them going to visit you, and then Gaz writing his mum.

“So those books were from your mum?” You’d all settled into chairs or the couch. (You’d had to swat Soap a few times when he tried to pull you down to sit in his lap.)

“Must be.” He shrugged. “You still have ‘em, yeah?”

“Of course, they’re at home. I’ll bring them next time.”

He shrugged. “No rush. We’ve got time.”

And you did, you realized with a blink. With Soap crowded up against your side, the other three ranged around the room, you realized you had plenty of time. Now that you weren’t just waiting on a surprise visit from a dog. You smiled to yourself and leaned into Soap.

Yeah. You could get used to this.

#shifter au #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #f!reader

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multific · 1 year

Text

Gender Reveal Party - Preferences

Modern Warfare Men x Wife!Reader

Summary: What it is like to have a gender reveal with your husband?

John Price

It was actually your idea to hold a little gender reveal party, but John loved the idea.

Sharing this moment with your loved ones sounded like an amazing idea.

Gaz was responsible for getting the correct balloon which you will pop and it will show if you are having a boy or a girl.

You had a small party before the balloon came out to play.

Of course, the balloon would have been army themed, because why wouldn't it.

People at the party choose if they believed the baby to be a girl or a boy. You were truly blessed to have such amazing people around you.

And then, you popped the balloon.

Pink.

A little girl.

John hugged you tightly as you felt the tears of joy in your eyes.

You knew you would have been okay with either a girl or a boy it truly didn't matter.

But both of you were extremely happy to have a little girl.

Simon Riley

Simon wanted it to be a private 'reveal'. He wasn't too keen of the balloons, cakes or whatever. He would have been fine with the doctor telling you two.

It was actually Johnny's idea that you needed a party. And you were all for it. Your husband? Not so much.

But you knew he would end up enjoying it so it didn't matter. Johnny offered to even do everything for the party. He just needed Simon's credit card.

The party was simple and private. To be honest, you were rather excited. After seeing Johnny arrive with so many decorations and such great ideas for the reveal.

It ended up that Johnny preparing a small ghost-shaped cake. The inside will tell the gender.

You will never forget Simon's face when he saw the cake. You just hoped Price took a picture of it.

To be fair, Simon did enjoy the party until that cake came out. It was as if the reality of the situation came crashing down on him. He was about to become a father and soon he will know if he would have a boy or a girl. It made him nervous.

But you were just as nervous.

You cut the cake and it was blue.

You were having a boy.

You looked at Simon with a smile but he kept on staring at the cake with a small smile on his lips.

"We are having a little lad." he said as he hugged you tight.

Jonny MacTavish

Now of course it would be Johnny's idea to have a party. He planned on getting the grill out, invite your friends and have a blast.

And who were you to ruin such a good opportunity?

A pregnant woman who was very sick, that's what you were. You spent more time by the toilet than with your friends.

But you did manage to spend some time out with the others as well.

Soon, John arrived with the reveal. He said he planned it rather simple, it was a gift box and the inside would tell the gender.

You let Johnny open it as both pink and blue confetti flew out of the box. Everyone looked at John Price with a confused expressions before he pulled out a paper and handed it to Johnny.

"You are having twins." you nearly fell over as you moved to look at the paper. It was from the doctor and it said: twins.

A girl and a boy.

After about five seconds of confusion, you and Johnny started to laugh and hugged each other.

How will you deal with two little Soaps you didn't know, but you were also very happy for having twins.

Kyle Garrick

It was actually both of you who decided to have a gender reveal party. A friend of yours was given the task to prepare the surprise and she thought having smoke flares would be the best idea.

You and Kyle stood in your garden, ready for the others to pop the flares.

You were nervous but so was Kyle, his hold on your hand said it all.

Then everything went up and it was all pink.

However, something was wrong. Your friend started running around yelling.

"NO! NO! IT'S A BOY! NO!" she ran up to you handing you the paper and you read it. It indeed said, boy.

"They must have gave me the wrong colour!" she explained and apologized but you could only laugh.

"IT'S A BOY!" soon everyone realized the mistake and was laughing now.

You and Kyle shared a hug.

"We have a pink boy." he said and you laughed.

Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro preferred a silent night with some drinks. He was never into parties and having many people around.

So, he invited Rudy over to your house. Rudy was supposed to come alone.

But of course, he didn't.

Your small and silent night turned into a party.

And soon the pinata arrived. You looked at Rudy confused.

"It's time to find out if you are having a little chico or chica!" he said as he smiled.

With a club given to Alejandro everyone took a step back.

He hit the pignata and pink candy fell out of it.

"IT'S A GIRL!" yelled Alejandro as he and Rudy danced around one another.

You could only smile as you watched them before they turned to you and your husband gave you a hug.

"We are having a little girl, Mi Amor!"

König

Now, König was definitely not one for parties so you had to get creative.

So it was only the two of you while you gave the paper from the doctor to the bakery so they can prepare you a surprise.

You ended up ordering 12 cupcakes. And one would have a little surprise inside which would be either pink or blue. All the others would be empty.

You have König 6 pieces and 6 to yourself and whoever finds the one, wins.

The rule was that you had to eat all until you find the one.

He found it, and you knew he did. It was his fourth and you were only on your second. You saw him freeze and his eyes fill with tears. You grabbed his wrist and turned the cupcake, seeing the inside had a small pink part.

You looked at him and smiled.

"We are having a little girl." you said and it caused him to break down crying.

You watched as his huge shoulders shook with each movement as he sobbed.

"Es ist ein Mädchen." he said so many times, you hugged his head to your chest as his hands went around you, holding you close.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 21 days

Text

Goodbyes pt.2: cbf!soap x f!reader

Warnings: nothing happy happens in this chapter you've been warned, sexual themes so mdni (18+)

Six months.

That was how long it had been since you had last seen and spoke to Johnny. He had told you that he wasn't sure how long it was going to be and you weren't going to fault him for that but it didn't mean you weren't any less hurt.

It seemed like every time he went away you grew further and further apart. After last time you thought that maybe things would change, that things would start to go back to the way they were but you were wrong.

You tried your best to go along with it. You waited everyday for him to call when you knew he wouldn't, you forced yourself to not get upset by the silence and tried to count down the days until he might come back.

The days blurred together and before you knew it you were starting your next semester in classes. You tried hard to not let his absence get to you, you had done this already, but something about this time just made it so much worse.

You were failing two of your classes and could hardly focus enough to get your assignments done in time.

It bothered you. Everything bothered you. It was like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, the slightest breeze threatening to push you over and bring you to a complete breakdown.

Then he came back.

Johnny didn't surprise you this time, he couldn't because he could hardly keep his mouth shut or his excitement down because the adrenaline from his first mission still pumped through him.

He felt like a whole new person and though he hadn't changed his appearance he looked like a new person.

It didn't matter to you though, not when he was finally back. You were just happy to finally feel his arms wrapped around you again.

"Let me take you out somewhere." Johnny offered with a grin as he squeezed your hips. "Go get drunk or something-"

You accidentally cut him off with a passionate kiss to his lips. You had been so overcome with emotions that you couldn't stop yourself.

He was surprised and unable to reciprocate fast enough before you pulled away with wide eyes.

You found yourself strangely shy and you nervously tried to step away from him but he wouldn't let go of you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Johnny grabbed your face and smashed his lips against yours. It turned heated immediately, all of the excess emotions that you both had melted into each other as he stuck his tongue inside your mouth to taste you for the first time in months.

You whined when his hands groped your body and held him close as he placed hot kisses on your neck. You gasped when he roughly picked you up and dropped you on the bed with desparation.

He threw his shirt off and you wrapped your arms around him. He attacked your neck and you dig your fingertips into his back, causing him to flinch and grunt out in pain.

"Sorry." You were a little confused since you didn't think you had pressed that hard until you spotted a bruise on his ribs that made your heart drop. "Johnny, what the fuck?"

He pulled back from you with out of breath and confused until he saw where you were looking. He got a little sheepish but didn't shy away as he revealed more of the bruise on his ribs.

"Ah, it's nothin'. You know me, I'm always gettin' roughed up."

The bruise was large and differently colored across his skin. It spanned from his ribs to his back and you couldn't help the horror that spread across your face as you gently moved him to get a better look at it. It was across his spine and that made your heart begin to race when you had the horrible thought of what could've happened.

The more you looked, the more you noticed that a lot of his body had bruises and that was when you noticed a couple small cuts on his face as well.

Johnny was always getting roughed up but this was entirely new. He never got hurt this bad.

"Did you get hit? How are you moving right now?" You barely touched him now as you frantically searched for any other wounds. "What happened?"

"I fell." He shrugged nonchalantly and you gave him an incredulous look. "It's just a little sore, nothing I cannae handle."

His face slowly fell when he was met with your scared face. He quickly grabbed a hold of you when you tried to get up and tried to give you a reassuring smile.

"You need ice-"

"I'm fine, I promise."

You shook your head. Your tired mind was already racing, your nerves having been fried for months now, and this was just the very thing you needed to be pushed off the edge.

"This isn't something you can just say you're fine to." You tried your hardest to stay calm but your voice shook. "You could've died."

"C'mon, bonnie, be serious-"

"I am being serious!"

Johnny gave you a look, a scowl falling across his face while you struggled breathe. He huffed and grabbed his shirt, putting it back on while he tried to continue to tell you that he was okay. When you weren't being able to be convinced he huffed and clenched his jaw.

"Why are you acting like this?" He asked and your mouth fell open with shock.

"How am I supposed to act about this, John?" You snapped and his eyes narrowed. "You show up with massive bruise on places that could've killed you."

"Okay, but I'm alive. This is normal, I'm not sitting at a desk, I'm out in the field-"

"You're actually deployed?"

Johnny couldn't help but glare at you. Deep down he knew it wasn't personal but the way you said struck something in him. It was if you had expected him to be some pencil pusher, someone who wasn't good enough for the job he actually had.

"I didn't think that'd be an issue." He said and you gaped at him.

"Why wouldn't it be an issue? You're risking your life and you expected me to just be okay with it?" You yelled at him as tears welled up in your eyes.

"Yeah, because this is the reality of the job and this is how it's going to be."

"You're not seriously staying-"

"I didn't work this hard to quit now!"

A few tears fell and you placed your hands over your face. You tried hard to control your breathing but you were so worked up you could feel the signs of a panic attack coming along.

It was too much for you. The months without him and now the looming threat that he could die and you wouldn't know. You couldn't handle that.

"I'm alive, just let it go." He said and you glared at him.

"You're a fucking prick, I can't just let it go." You yelled and he averted his eyes from you. "I spent the last six months waiting for you and you're telling me that you could've died, that I could've lost you and might lose you in the future and I'm supposed to let it go?"

You began to shake and hyperventilate. You felt like you were going to pass out, you felt like you needed to run away as you shot up from the bed unable to contain yourself. Tears streamed down your face and you let out a strained sob.

Johnny's heart dropped and he watched you with concern. He suddenly became all too aware of just how badly he had been acting just now and how he had completely ignored your current state.

He had noticed how sick you looked, how stressed you had been but thought that it was just school but he was wrong, especially now as you fought a panic attack.

It was because of him. He knew you would only get this upset because of the circumstances and for it to get to this point he knew it had been bad.

Guilt surged through him and he rushed up to you.

"Bonnie" He tried to wrap his arms around you but you weakly pushed him away. "Let me help you, you gotta let me help."

You let him wrap his arms around you tightly, enough to help ground you before he brought you to sit on the ground. You sobbed into his shoulder as he rocked you back and forth, shushing you quietly while he tried to sooth you.

"I'm sorry." He whispered into your ear. "It's scary, but I'm okay. I'm right here, I'm not gonna die. I'm always gonna come back to ya."

It was a long time before either of you let go of each other. He whispered as many apologies as he could while you let out the last six months of stress into him before you finally exhausted yourself.

Johnny couldn't sleep.

His mind was too active to let him, especially as you subconsciously cuddle in closer to him in your sleep.

This had been a wake up call.

He hadn't meant to be so dismissive of your feelings. He had been too stuck in the mindset he had when he was working to give you the proper care you needed. In the field he had to suppress his emotions if he wanted to stay alive but he was home now, he was with you now. He should've been kinder, anyone normal would've been scared seeing the bruises and he should've expected it from you but stupidly he thought you'd just go along with it.

He wished he could take back what he did but he couldn't. In hindsight, maybe it was better he had acted the way he did because it brought to light an issue he had been avoiding since he visited you the last time.

You couldn't handle this.

It was obvious that you were miserable when he was gone, to the point that you were failing your classes and putting off you responsibilities because of him. You were too stubborn to admit it to him for whatever reason, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that if he just continued things would get better.

He knew he'd continue to hurt you. It wasn't on purpose and you wouldn't blame him for it but regardless he would be the cause of so much pain for you because of his job.

Eventually you'd get sick of it. Eventually things would fall apart.

He knew what he had to do.

Tears streamed down Johnny's face as he pulled you closer into him. His chest began to hurt and he shook as he stared into the darkness of your bedroom. He had never felt so scared before in his life but he knew that if he didn't do it then he would ruin your life, he would hurt you way worse.

When he eventually got called back to work, he held onto you tightly while you cried. The words got stuck in his throat and he couldn't say anything to you while he avoided your eyes.

That was the last time the two of you saw each other.

a/n: oops

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce @pepsicolacoochie @hayleybarnesx @tiredmetalenthusiast @misshoneypaper @sodavrr @ghostslittlegf @glitterypirateduck @comeonatmebruh @mandalover2023 @blush-haze @xxshadowbabexx @infpt-zylith @sadsackssss @fandomsfanficsfantasize

#cbf!soap #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #soap x reader #soap x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish

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reveluving · 5 months

Note

don’t know if you’re still taking shy!wife requests but if you are what about soap x shy!wife where he sits her in front of a mirror and makes her watch as he plays with her 🤭 but he stops if she looks away

WHY ARE YOU ENCOURAGING FICTIONAL ME’S ULTIMATE KINK UNPROVOKED

Includes: mirror kink (minors DNI!), petnames ('baby'), fingering/fingerfu~cking, thigh-slapping, praising, teasing, edging, mentions of overstimulation

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

It should’ve hit you why he had a sinister smile when you suggested adding a large mirror in the bedroom. Just an innocent idea, you wanted to make the space look bigger.

That was until he came up behind you, toying with the hem of your shirt as he purred.

“Y’don’t possibly think we wouldn’t have some fun with it, did’ya? Just imagine; holdin’ ya in front o’me, appreciatin’ these sweet curves with nothin’ coverin’ ya.”

Your wide eyes weren’t from mortification or anything the like, far from it. But it did make your heart jump like crazy. You were already a little ‘skittish’ at the thought of fully exposing yourself under a bright light, though Johnny, bless your husband, never giving up in showing you what he sees in you, body and soul.

And as he kissed your shoulder, judging by your silence, he knew he got you.

He was leaning against the headboard, his legs spread for you to occupy—handing the spotlight for you to dominate as he worked his wonders in the background.

He had a knack for slapping your thighs whenever his touch jolted you into covering your legs. Not painful ones, not unless you were feeling a tad naughty, just surprising ones, but a warning nonetheless. It contrasted with the way he was kissing you, alternating between soft kisses, the ones where he’d leave ticklish smooches on the corner of your lips, and then sliding his tongue against yours, a sign that he could barely conceal his patience.

Sighing in appreciation each time he spreads your lips with his middle and ring finger.

Murmuring praises against your neck in between his kisses.

“Ah-ah. You know the rules.”

“Y’hear that? Fuck. Y’already clenchin’, baby? Just one finger?”

“Eyes on the mirror, baby. That’s it. Such pretty eyes lookin’ a’me.”

“Can y’feel me throbbin’ against ya? If I just… roll my hips… Oh, y’like that, don’t ya?”

The expressiveness of your husband, his eagerness to please you while making you watch yourself didn’t help. Not especially when he doesn’t hesitate to stop, to tease you further whenever your eyes roll back to the point of nearly closing them.

His middle finger was soaked, and so was his ring. The band glistened in the dim light, having played and plunged in your tight heat like his life depended on it so he could hear your whines grow at a higher pitch whenever he’d pick up the pace. Stopping as soon as you closed your eyes whenever it got too much, too good.

His ring played a huge part in it at the start, feeling you jump each time he pressed the initially cold metal against your burning skin.

He found your attempts to wriggle away from his adorable, with one of his muscular arms folding your chest. All while his hand switched between kneading your beautiful breasts and digging his fingers into your soft skin, just enough for you to feel them the next day.

Your voice came out in a long, pathetic whine before you forced out his name, “Nghhh—Johnny…”

Music to his fucking ears.

His fingers were relentless, continuing to rub your clit feverishly, even when you were already three orgasms in. There was something about the way your lips parted every time, or how addictive how juices felt as they smeared most of his fingers or how ruined the sheets were.

Just how he liked it.

And unless you used your safeword anytime soon, he was already planning on laying you on your back, longing for a taste. The mess you had made on his fingers was just the start, shamelessly licking them off by your ear, and with a pop while locking his eyes with your glassy, fucked-out ones in the mirror.

He wanted, hell, he needed to taste you. The real deal. To flick your clit with his tongue, to tease along your lips from your tight hole and up, to nose at the stain you had left on the blankets from just his fingers stretching you.

Oh, his cock swelled just as his mind grew lighthearted just at the very thought of it.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

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sofasoap · 9 months

Text

Little first meet

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: How a mohawk Scottish man meet his bonnie bear

Warning : M rating. use of alcohol. flirting. A/N: Three glasses of wine in, half asleep I just want to spew their awkward first meeting out.

Part 7 of Little Bear series Masterlist

“Hello bonnie, are you new here?”

Glancing to the left, and to the right. There’s no one else sitting beside you. Is he talking to you?? There must be some mistake. Surely this handsome stranger with a very exaggerated mohawk hair right in front of you isn’t trying to start a conversation with you. Or God forbid, trying to flirt with you????

“... You talking to me?” you asked in a weak voice.

He chuckled as he flashes you a wide toothy smile, “Who else would it be? The most beautiful person in the whole pub.” gesturing to the stool beside you, “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Um, sure?” You can feel the tip of your ears starting to burn. Fidgeting with the pint of beer in your hand, your mind started racing. Maybe he is just bored, or maybe he had a bet with his friend on how many people they can chat up with tonight in this pub.

This is the first time you left your hometown. First time in a brand new environment and you are a nervous wreck.

You only moved to Credenhill a few weeks ago after getting a new job with a civilian company that has connections to the military that is stationed in the area.

You have thought deep and hard before deciding to make that huge leap in your life, after seeing all your friends moving on with their life, achieving so much. And there you are, still living in your comfort zone.

Tonight, you decided to check out the local pub that your new workmate had suggested with a good atmosphere and food. You had nothing better to do anyway on a Friday night.

“Maybe you will get lucky and some soldiers will hit on you!” They joke. “I had quite a bit of luck meeting some quite sexy soldiers. And I can assure you they have pretty good … stamina.” Winking and giggling away as you lower your head in embarrassment.

Awkward silent bubble surrounded both of you as the bolstering noise of drunken pub goers around you continued. You never had anyone hitting you before (He is flirting with you, right?) What do you do in this situation? Who should start a conversation? Is it proper etiquette to look into their eyes or should you look away?

As your brain runs through all the possibilities and solutions, the mohawk man broke the silence and restart the conversation.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you here for a visit or?? I don’t imagine anyone will be here for sightseeing purposes.” Taking a sip from his own beer, he asked. “And it doesn’t look like you are waiting for anyone to join you either.”

Good observant skill, you noted. “Um.I just moved here. Few weeks ago.” Shyly taking a peek at him as you bring your glass up for a sip for a drink, you realise you have a set of steel blue eyes. Beautiful steel blue eyes, drawing you deeper into his soul.

Great, now you are gawking on him.

His eyes brighten up as soon as you mention you are a new resident here.

“Well I hope you are settling in well. I must apologise that this little village has nothing to offer apart from basic amenities and boring soldiers.” he chuckles.

“ And you are one of them?” you blurted out as your eyes caught a glimpse of his dog chain in his half buttoned up shirt. You slapped your mouth as soon as the sentence left your mouth.

“Sorry. Not meaning to be so rude..” Embarrassment and anxiety starts bubbling up. That is one thing you are not good with. Socialisation. It’s either you don’t know how to carry on a conversation or letting your mouth run without thinking. Way to make a good impression with people. You thought.

Mohawk stranger laughed. “ I am indeed one of them. One of the best at boring your brains out. .” he smirked, “Although I am not as boring as my team mate Ghost.”

“Ghost?” “Not his real name. That’s his call sign. He usually bored us to death with his dad jokes. Or our Captain. Nagging non-top most times like a mother hen. Don’t get me started on Gaz. He is too stiff for his own good sometimes.”

“They sound like very interesting people.” You let out a little laugh.

“Depending how you look at it.” He smiled. Pausing slightly as he thought for a second, “If you like, I can introduce them to you. Next time.” He looked at you in earnest.

“Next time?” Your eyebrows arched up. There’s next time?

“Only if you want, bonnie.” smiling softly, “You look like you need some friends.” Noticing you stiffening, he winced as he straightened his back slightly. “Sorry. I meant no offence with that. I just thought you might want to make new friends in this new place.”

You fidget in your seat even more. Can you really trust this man that you only just met tonight?

And what is that good old warning people kept saying to you, never get involved with military personnel. They will surely break your heart.

Still noticing your hesitation and discomfort, he hastily added, “If it makes you feel more comfortable, my sister is visiting soon. I can bring her along too. She is the one who usually keeps us all in check. Also to keep my blabbering mouth shut as well.”

“But.......”

“But?”

“... I don’t even know your name.”

Mohawk man opened his mouth for a second and closed before he slapped himself in the forehead.

“Where are my manners? Let’s start again.” holding his hands out,

“John MacTavish. But people either call me Johnny or Soap.”

You later find out Johnny isn’t usually the type to introduce his close knit group right from get go.

“I fell hard for you that day, Bonnie bear. Something in my heart tells me I must approach that lonely bonnie that is sitting in the corner all by herself and woo her with all my might.”

“Well luckily you didn’t use any of your lame pick up lines..”

“Aww Bonnie bear. I am sure you will still fall for the charming me nevertheless.”

“Sure sure… “

Taglist: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator

@random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @roosterr @brewed-pangolin @groguspicklejar

#johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x fem reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish xf!reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #Little bear series #sofasoap writes #call of duty #johnny mactavish #john mactavish fluff #johnny soap mactavish x female!reader #johnny soap mactavish fluff #comfort fic

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multi-fandom-imagine · 6 months

Text

Day 30- Window Sex

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Character: Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

Warnings: sex against the window, playful Johnny{ this man is a tease}, doggie style ?, dirty talk.

Letting his fingers trail down your spine Johnny let out a small chuckle. “Look how beautiful you are love.”

Your hands pressed against the window, your gaze glued to the bright stars as you felt Johnny trail his lips across your neck. He wanted it take you out for your second anniversary but the man couldn’t keep his to himself which lead him into booking this hotel, you looked it good in that dress for him not to take you.

Said dress now bunched at your hips as Johnny messaged your inner thigh, his fingers reading your slit, teasing your clot until you were a whining mess, rubbing yourself against his hard on.

You could hear a fumble of his jeans, the tell tale sign of his zipper being pulled. A shudder ran down your spine feeling his cock tease your clit until he pushed himself fully into your warmth.

A deep groan leaving his lips as he started to slowly thrust, his accent slipping out. Hands tightly on your hips, you could feel Johnny nip and suck at your neck .

“Fuck, you feel so good love. Such a good pussy you have.”

Giving your neck another nip, Soap dig his nails not your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock. His free hand running down your spine, his touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your veins.

A wave of ecstasy crashing over him. He moaned, his hips instinctively thrusting forward to meet your movements, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony.

The sensation of your tightness enveloping him, the way you gripped him with a fierce hunger, was unlike anything he had experienced before. He surrendered himself to the pleasure, his fingers digging into your hips as he guided your movements. “Such a good little lass you are and it’s all mine.”

Your bodies moved with a primal rhythm, a dance of desire and pleasure. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and gasps, mingling with the sound of skin slapping against skin. You were both lost in the moment, consumed by the raw intensity of your union.

Johnny’s hands roamed your body, his fingers tracing patterns along your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He reveled in the feeling of your soft curves beneath his touch, the way you responded to his every movement, your walls gripping him tighter with every thrust.

As you both approached the edge of climax, your movements became more urgent, more desperate. The tension built, their breaths mingling in the air as your chased your release. And when it finally crashed over them, a wave of pleasure washing over your bodies, you crying out as Johnny let out a deep groan, your souls merging in the heat of passion.

Falling back into Johnny’s chest, the man chuckled deeply nuzzling into your neck. “The night is far from over, happy anniversary love.”

Smiling, you captured his lips in for a lazy kiss giving his hand a squeeze. “Happy anniversary handsome.”

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

Text

don't leave me locked in your heart (chap 2) - ghost x soap x reader

word count: 8.2k

cw: NONCON!!!! dark!!! light petplay (ghost calls soap mutt/dog/puppy), dom!ghost, switch!soap, sub!reader, restraints, gags, ghoap are a little deranged

chapter 1/2 here, read on ao3, see the pinterest board

He could’ve fucking warned you.

“Simon” is terrifying. His eyes are locked on yours over Johnny’s head, and they’re terrifying.

He’s nearly a full head taller than Johnny, who was already the biggest man you’d ever gone home with. And on top of that, Simon looks like he’s twice as muscular. His arms bulge in his sleeves and you can literally trace his abs. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and you can trace his abs.

You’ll die if this man tries to fuck you. There’s simply no way his dick isn’t monstrous, and if it’s even proportional to the rest of him you’ll surely split in half. And considering the fucking bulge in his sweatpants? It’s a hell of a lot more than just proportional.

The skeleton mask and eye paint certainly don’t make him look any less intimidating. They clash with the short bit of dirty blonde hair he’s got, but it hardly matters when half of the face he’s revealing is literally painted black.

After a moment of eye contact you couldn’t break if you tried, he lets go of Johnny, taking the few steps to the bed in long strides and standing at the edge without brushing it. You’re frozen in fear, some ancient animal instinct in your head begging you to lay still and submissive in the face of a predator.

His head tilts a bit to the side, gaze sliding over your body in a way that would offend you, were you in any other position with any other man. He’s silent as one hand reaches out to trace the trembling muscles in your thigh and you can’t hold the small noise of fear back with your mouth held open. His hand doesn’t stop, just continues tracing up and down, up and down.

Johnny slides behind Simon, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist and leaning around to look at you. “Yknow,” he starts, nuzzling into the side of Simon’s arm. “She squirts when you fuck her right.”

“That so?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And you managed that?”

Johnny makes an offended little noise but there’s a smirk playing on his lips, and you cannot believe the nonchalance.

Johnny moves from behind Simon to kneel between your legs again. Your eyes follow him and his eager smirk as he bends his head towards your core, and you can’t help but up.

Then there’s a hand in his mohawk, yanking his head straight back so he’s staring at up the ceiling. No, not the ceiling - Simon, where he’s bent over the smaller man.

“Now, who said you could do that?” Simon rumbles, his hand continuing its slow stroke up the inside of your thigh. “Hm?” He asks again when Johnny doesn’t reply, jostling the man’s head in his grip.

“S-sorry, L.t.,” he pants, pupils blown wide and mouth dropped open just enough for him to poke his tongue out.

Simon only makes another low noise in his chest, neither approving or disapproving, and tugs Johnny back off the bed. The man follows easily and your eyebrows furrow a bit - the Johnny you were with last night was dominant through every round, but this Johnny? He’s falling to his knees at a man’s feet with just a nudge.

Simon pets his hand over Johnny’s head where he now rests, then brings his eyes back to yours. “Better. Now stay.”

Then he leans forward.

You make a high noise in your throat, irrationally trying to wiggle away as the man becomes all you can see. But he doesn’t go for any of your very available vulnerable places, instead reaching up to… untie you?

To your shock, that’s exactly what he’s doing. His fingers make quick work of pulling the rope from the slats of the headboard, but when you go to yank your hand away from him, you realize it’s still tied securely to your ankle. He lowers your limbs surprisingly gently to the bed, then frees your other bound wrist.

When he’s done he scoops you under the armpits, lifting you entirely off the bed for a moment and dropping you on your knees. You crumble as much as you can, back bending and head dropped low so you don’t have to look at him, don’t have to think about what you know he’s about to do to you.

“Head up, doll,” Simon grunts, but you can’t bring yourself to listen, watching little drops of spit drip from your mouth. You can see Johnny’s naked knees on the floor. There’s a sigh above you, then Simon’s hand reaching down and grasping firmly under your chin, forcing your head up and holding your eyes again.

His thumb strokes softly over your bottom lips while he considers you. You glare up at him, but he’s unfazed. He leans a little closer, then sighs again.

“Pouting won’t get either of us to let you go,” he says simply. A statement of fact - not cruel, or mocking, just… the truth. Your eyes squeeze shut as understanding finally, truly, sinks in and you feel the warm track of a tear down your cheek. Simon doesn’t give you time to dwell. “Was Johnny good to you last night?”

“Of courseI -!”

“Not asking you, puppy,” Simon growls, tone going from soft-ish to stern like whiplash, though his thumb remains soft where it wipes the tear off your cheek. “I’m asking your little stray. So?” His hand nudges your chin up, a little jerk, and you open your eyes on instinct.

Johnny was good to you last night. You came five times, there isn’t much else you could’ve expected from a one night stand. Except for the fact that he tied you up and gagged you, he would’ve been the perfect candidate for a FWB situation.

Still, you can’t really get past the kidnapping thing. So you glare down at the kneeling man as best you can with your chin held high as it is and shake your head with the little room Simon gives.

“What?” Johnny barks, raising up on his knees and shooting you a glare. “That’s not true, L.t., I was fuckin’ great to her!”

Simon hums a little, thumb still stroking. “I don’t know, Johnny. She looks right pissed with you.”

Johnny huffs, but settles back on his ankles when Simon’s free hand moves to the nape of his neck. “She’s just pissy she can’t leave. Brat.”

“You’re the only one being a brat right now, MacTavish.”

There’s a little grumble of disagreement from the floor.

“Alright,” Simon starts, standing to his full height and taking both of his hands back. “You can’t fuck her today.”

Your eyes go wide at such an explicit command, accompanied by a sharp “What the fuck?!” from Johnny.

“Don’t start fuckin’ barkin’ at me, Johnny. Shoulda been better if you wanted to fuck her again.”

“But I was good to her, she’s just pitchin’ a fit!”

Simon looks down at you, tense and glaring, about as far from “pitchin’ a fit” as one could probably be in your situation and snorts. "Bit of a reach, Johnny. And it don't matter anyway, cause you'll do as you're told."

Another unhappy noise, followed by a petulant, “Yes, sir.”

It’s good enough for Simon, who finally moves to get on the bed. He settles against the headboard, then reaches and lifts you beneath your armpits again. You can’t help the helpless noise of fear in your throat as you’re left just floating for a moment, before Simon settles you over his thighs.

He spreads his legs, spreading yours along with them. You’re forced into an arch as your wrists move with your ankles, and you anxiously shift back and forth on your knees.

“Settle, doll,” Simon rumbles, hands stroking rope to hip up your legs. “Johnny - on the bed, behind her.”

Johnny quickly obeys, and while he does Simon tugs his sweatpants down. He only pulls them far enough to hook beneath his balls, and you can’t help the panicked noises as his cock flops up against his stomach, fully erect.

You were right. He’s gonna tear you apart. Your heart beats faster at just the thought.

Simon huffs at your wide eyed reaction, shifting his legs up. The movement forces you down to sit on his dick, and his knees pull up behind your body, shimmying his sweats lower on his legs. “Panicky little thing, aren’t ya?”

You keen lowly in response, eyes still glued to the massive length this man is about to force into your body, unable to still your shaking hands. Johnny makes a low noise behind you, and you feel his hands begin to trace up and down your sides. “‘S ok, lovie,” he murmurs, head ducked into your throat. “I told you you’d like Simon, yeah? He’ll be good to you.”

It shouldn’t bring you any comfort to hear those words from the man who put you in this position in the first place, but the warm sets of hands combined with Johnny’s newly familiar weight at your back has your muscles relaxing against your will. Your eyes squeeze shut at the realization that your brain and your body are completely split when it comes to these men.

“There ya go,” Johnny rumbles, and you hate the little smirk you can feel against your skin as his teeth start to gnaw at your neck.

“Johnny, back down,” Simon says suddenly, leaning forward and pushing the other man back with a palm on his forehead. He goes easily, albeit with a little whine. “Good boy.”

Then, with no warning, Simon stuffs two fingers into your cunt.

You jolt forward with a little shriek, losing your balance since your hands are still attached to your ankles. Simon’s free hand steadies you by the shoulder and you can’t keep the moan of pleasure trapped in your chest as he crooks his fingers.

You lose track of time as he stretches you, thrusting slowly but with an almost punishing strength before eventually adding a third finger. You whine at the stretch, arching your tits high in the air as your hips try to move away from the intrusion.

“Down, girl,” Simon rumbles, hand reaching out to press solidly on the center of your chest. “Gonna fuck those wrists up ‘f you keep jerkin’ away like that.”

You can’t keep yourself from glaring at him for that, and his painted eyes crinkle above the skull mask.

Bastard.

You can feel Johnny getting antsy behind you, the mattress shifting back and forth and his breathing becoming heavier and heavier. But Simon ignores him, so you do too.

Eventually, he deems you stretched enough for him. His fingers slip out of you and his hand raises to your face, soaked fingers pushing past the ring gag and to rest heavily on your tongue. You realize why when he reaches down to grip his cock, angling the tip to your hole. Your noise of surprise is muffled by the digits.

You can’t help but clench up tight, staring wide eyed at Simon. He glances up from where he had been staring at your core, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that shocks you. “Gotta relax if this’ll work, doll.”

He must see the lack of appeal to that in your face, because a moment later he adds, “It’s happening either way, but relaxing will make it better for you. I’ll fuck you either way.”

His fingers block the mournful little noise you make. Then, when you relax as much as you can and he pushes into you, they block the sharp yelp. “There you go, atta girl,” he hums.

“Johnny, guide her down,” Simon commands, moving his hand from his dick to your nipple, plucking and twisting lazily as he fucks his fingers in and out of your mouth at the same lazy pace. Johnny’s hands are immediately on your hips, stilling the drop you hadn’t been able to slow before you can fully impale yourself on Simon.

He lowers you slowly, but without pause, and hooks his chin over your shoulder to stare down at where you sink on Simon’s cock. “Doin’ so good, lass,” he murmurs in your ear. The three of you moan in sync when your hips meet Simon’s.

You feel like he’s splitting you down the middle, like you’re being cleaved in half. His size, the position, and being held down so no matter how much you squirm there’s no escape from the intrusion, it all makes you drip like a faucet. As much as you hate your body’s betrayal, you can’t help but be thankful for the natural lubrication to ease the way. You can’t imagine the stretch had you been anything less than soaked.

They let you sit there for a second, Johnny’s hands squeezed tight on your hips and his own hard cock pressed against your back, Simon panting beneath you with eyes half lidded as he watches his hands work on you. You can’t help the way your torso squirms at Simon’s merciless pinches.

The moment of stillness passes, and Simon’s hands move to replace Johnny’s.

“Johnny,” Simon rumbles, lifting and dropping you just the smallest bit, ignoring your moan.

“Yeah, L.t.?” the smaller replies, hips beginning to hump against your back as he buries his face in your hair.

“Want your mouth on my balls. Get on your back.”

Johnny’s obedience is instantaneous. He drops to his back and you can feel his breath against your ass as he gets settled.

“Hands on my knees,” Simon commands. “This isn’t about you right now. No touching. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then get to work.”

Simon obeys his own order as much as Johnny does, setting his feet more comfortably and lifting you high off his dick. You whine at the anticipation, clenching tightly on just the tip as you hear Johnny’s mouth get to work.

Simon drops you on his dick, thrusting up at the same time and forcing a grunt from you. His pace begins in earnest, hips slapping against you ass as he fucks you like you’re nothing more than a fleshlight he’d use to masturbate.

You lose yourself in the pleasure, moans and whimpers slipping from your lips without your notice as the pleasure continues relentlessly. Occasionally Johnny’s tongue slips to your ass when Simon bottoms out in you, and every time it draws a yip from you that makes Simon fuck into you all the harder.

An eternity later he slows his pace, his own hips no longer thrusting and instead lifting and dropping you by the hips for long, slow jabs up into you. The slower pace gives Johnny a chance to move his work to you, and as the slow pace continues his tongue lingers on your back hole longer and longer on each thrust.

When Simon realizes what’s happening he lets out an angry snarl, one that nearly scares you out of the pleasure-drunk haze you’ve fallen into.

“Bad dog!” He nearly shouts, hand leaving your hip to grab Johnny by the hair and yank him up to his knees, ignoring the shocked and pained whine. “What did I say?” He grunts, hips working much faster now, pounding up into you. You hear a loud smack, and jolt at the knowledge that Simon had just slapped Johnny, and the ensuing moan that Johnny lets out. “Told you to suck my fuckin’ balls. Didn't say a damn word about eatin’ the toy’s ass out - her pleasure ain’t your concern, puppy. Get your tongue back on my balls ‘fore I lock you in the fuckin’ closet til I’m done.”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny moans, breath heavy and tone almost reproachful. When he slides back down to his back his sucking noises are far lounder, and you no longer feel his tongue sneak up to you.

“Much better,” Simon growls, still not sounding satisfied. Both of his hands lock back onto your hips and he gives you a few more harsh thrusts before dropping you completely, pushing your weight down onto Johnny’s face. He holds you there for a few moments, seemingly unconcerned with the man buried in his balls’ ability to breathe.

After a bit he hums in satisfaction, one hand dragging up to your back and between your shoulder blades, giving you a solid shove into his chest. You yelp at the change in position, now much more vulnerable. His cock is still deep in your cunt, but your chest leaning against his forces your ankles and wrists high into the air, knees dug in beside Simon’s ribs. You feel off-kilter, only balanced by the thick cock deep in your cunt and your knees, which only stay in the same spot because you squeeze them tight to Simon’s ribs.

“There ya go, doll,” he rumbles, voice rumbling in his throat where your face rests. “Just lay still and let me fuck you, hm? Good girl.”

You’re not entirely sure why he’s praising you when you couldn’t have less control of the situation, but you don’t care when he starts thrusting up into you again.

It’s infuriatingly pleasurable. His tip drills into your g-spot on nearly every spot in this position, drawing whines and squeals from you, but you still can’t come without a touch on your clit. Tears well up in your eyes as you linger just at the precipice, hips humping as much as they can to try and push over that edge.

You’re stilled by a sharp smack on your ass. “I said lay still,” Simon growls, slapping your ass for another time without pausing his hips. “You’re a fuckin’ toy right now, toys don’t wiggle around like girls do.”

The filthy words draw a long moan from your throat and you hear a muffled laugh beneath your ass.

Simon doesn’t like that any more than you do. He lifts his hips high in the air before slamming what must be his sac on Johnny’s face. “What do you think you’re laughing at, mutt? You can’t do more than suck at my balls, you gonna laugh when you don’t even get to get fucked?” Johnny whines beneath the two of you. “That’s what I thought.”

Time becomes a blur as Simon fucks you. You’re just what he said, a toy. You can’t move where he holds you down, can’t do anything other than moan at the deep thrusts he gives you. You stare through tear-filled eyes at the walls, unable to do anything but focus on the pleasure.

So you’re shocked when Simon grunts from above you, hooking his hands beneath your thighs and holding tight as he flips the two of you around. The switch leaves you flat on your back, Simon’s massive frame the only thing you can see. Johnny’s head rests between your thighs, Simon essentially sitting on his head.

Simon sits up straight, weight leaned back on his heels and pulling you with him so he doesn’t have to pull out. He reaches a hand down to adjust his balls, and now you can see the way Johnny sucks at them enthusiastically, switching between both of them with fervor. “Good boy,” Simon murmurs once he’s seemingly satisfied with Johnny’s work. His attention shifts back to you and he moves his hands up to where you’re bound, grabbing both your ankles and forcing them back to rest by your head.

You let out a sharp noise at the stretch, but Simon just shushes you and continues to push. When your hands touch the bed he shifts his hold to just one hand, holding your legs together and forcing them just to the right of your head so he can stare down at your face.

You thank God you’re as flexible as you are.

Simon makes a pleased noise in his throat as he keeps you in his preferred position. He settles more comfortably on his knees and begins his fucking again, thrusts hard and deep with his free hand gripped tight on your ribs.

You moan at the pleasure, but can’t keep your brows from furrowing as you know you still won’t be able to come like this.

After only a few thrusts, Johnny sucking noises still loud in the room, Simon drops his head closer to yours and hunches further over you. “Needy girl, aren’t you?” He asks, breaths puffing through the mask and onto your face where he hovers only inches away. “Need a lot of attention to get off, huh?” You think he might be smiling a little under the mask, able to see what you think might be his mouth this close.

The hand on your hip slips down to your clit, rough fingers rubbing roughly where you’re slippery. You can’t help the long, drawn out moan at the relief, eyes rolling back in your head as he continues to nail your g-spot with every powerful thrust.

“There she is,” Simon moans from above you, head rolling back on his neck as his fingers move more insistently on your clit.

It takes you mere seconds to come, hips shifting to try and work through the wave that overtakes you. The sound that comes from you would be humiliating if you were anywhere near conscious enough to register it, but you’re so lost in the feeling that you can’t feel anything but pleasure.

Until you come down a bit, and Simon’s pace hasn’t slowed at all. His hips continue hammering into yours, and his fingers continue on your bud.

You make a high sound, wide eyes darting to Simon’s with a panic that feels purely animal in your veins. Everything is too much, you don’t know how to cope with it.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” Simon grunts, oblivious to your turmoil. “Gimme another, yeah? Dontcha wanna soak Johnny’s face, huh? Drown him a little?” You whine in response, an almost injured noise as the pain starts turning to pleasure again. Simon only laughs, leaning down to rest his forehead against your temple. His hand shifts to collar your throat, the breadth of his shoulder holding your legs in place where he wants them. “Yeah, you’re gonna give him a little treat, doll. C’mon, cum again f’r me.”

And your body obeys. You nearly howl at the feeling, clenching down so hard on Simon that he grunts and jerks to a sudden stop buried deep in you. Distantly, in some part of your mind that exists in the here and now, you register the warmth spreading inside of you. But the part of your mind in control only feels the pleasure, only feels the insanity creeping into your head at the inescapable force of it.

It must be minutes later when you finally float back into your own head. Blinking eyes open, you register that you’re empty now, that your feet have been placed on the bed and your arms rest limp by your sides.

Johnny’s hair is soaked with your cum, and despite all the circumstances you can’t help but blush at the realization. His head is still between your legs, but now he licks at the length of Simon’s soft cock while the large man pets his head. It takes you a second to realize he’s cleaning him.

A moment later Simon pulls Johnny off, dragging himself up and flopping with a sigh onto the pillows next to you. His eyes stay shut for a moment before he opens them and flicks a glance to you.

“Johnny,” he says, looking down at the other man.

“Aye?” Johnny replies, looking fucked out despite his rockhard cock as he shifts and rests his head on one of your spread thighs.

“Eat my cum out of her, make sure she comes again. Don’t finger her, just use that tongue of yours.”

You make a disagreeing noise, hardly able to imagine even more pleasure at this point. Surely you must be dehydrated?

“Don’t complain, girl,” Simon rumbles from next to you, one hand grabbing your thigh and forcing it flat to the mattress as Johnny eagerly worms his way higher on the bed. “You’re gettin’ all the pleasure, poor Johnny’s sittin’ there with blue balls. Ain’tcha lucky we’re bein’ so generous?”

You can’t even force yourself to glare as Johnny dives enthusiastically into your worn cunt, can only whine at the sensitivity and jerk your free thigh shut on Johnny’s head. He only moans, hands burrowing beneath you as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can.

Simon’s free hand comes over to shove the back of Johnny’s head further into you, the force causing both of you to moan. “Attaboy, Johnny. Clean her out for me.”

You come quickly. Once Johnny’s tongued all of Simon’s come from your hole he focuses his attention onto your clit, and he hardly has to do any work for you to jerk and moan in place. Simon hums as he lightens up on Johnny’s head, but the smaller man continues to lick and suck at you until your noises shift fully from pleasure to pain.

You think - you hope - they’re done now. But then Johnny kneels up and you see his fully hard cock, and you can’t help but let out a mournful sound knowing you can’t just curl up and pretend it was all a dream.

“Simon,” Johnny moans, face flushed nearly the same shade of his cock, dragging himself close to the other man and flopping over his legs. “Lemme cum, please, please lemme cum?”

“Hmm,” Simon rumbles, hand moving to grip at the nape of Johnny’s neck and knead. “Alright. How about this, puppy - I’ll fuck you and you fuck the toy’s mouth.”

You voice your rejection as much as you can, exhausted as you are, but are nearly drowned out by Johnny’s loud moan and chanting of “yes, yes, yes, thank you so much, sir, thank you”.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been good.” He lands a sharp smack on Johnny’s flank urging him up onto his knees.

Simon moves the two of you to his pleasure. You end up half propped up against the headboard, Johnny hunched over you and staring wide-eyed down at you as his cock slowly sinks down your throat. You can’t help but grunt and wiggle as much as possible when Johnny’s knees nearly squeeze either side of your head.

“Stay still. You don’t start fucking her mouth ‘til I’m fucking you, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny pants. “Please.”

“Calm down, Johnny. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You can’t see what’s happening from your position, can only hear the click of what you assume is a bottle of lube and Johnny’s moans as Simon presumably stretches him out. You shut your eyes, breathing deeply through your nose and doing your best not to panic at the inescapable choking sensation.

When Johnny lets out a long moan, Simon grunting over him, you can only assume he’s slid inside. Just seconds later Simon’s head appears over Johnny’s shoulder, glancing down at you as he places his own grip onto the headboard for leverage. His free hand comes around Johnny and down to your head., stroking your hair in a move so tender it surprises you into opening your eyes.

“Alright, Johnny. I fuck your ass, you fuck her mouth. Cum whenever you need to, but I’m not stopping ‘til ‘m good and drained.”

And with that, the cock inside your mouth goes from being an almost - and you hate to admit - comforting weight to pounding so harshly you’re sure your voice will be gone. Your eyes go wide, staring up at where Johnny’s near delirious as his hips rut harshly into your face.

His balls slap your chin, moans slipping out of his mouth loud enough to make you feel pity for his neighbors. You gag repeatedly, so much so you worry you might actually start retching, but you don’t, and the fucking continues.

You can see both of their faces where they’re hunched over you, can see the way their eyes squeeze shut in almost the same way.

Johnny cums quickly, hips stuttering against your face before he buries his entire length down your throat, moan guttural. You can feel little jerks where Simon must still be fucking him as ropes and ropes of cum launch straight down your throat. You moan at the sensation, wiggling from the sensation beneath the two men, and Johnny whines at the overstimulation.

His head drops lower as Simon continues to fuck him, mouth hung open and eye glazed over. A moment later, a drop of spit falls onto your face. Johnny groans loudly at the sight, hips instinctively fucking into your throat even though he’s gone soft.

It’s not long before Simon finishes, letting out a shout of pleasure as he stills and the bed (and Johnny) stop rocking.

The silence is heavy in the aftermath.

Eventually Simon drops away from your eye line, but his hands appear at Johnny’s hips. There’s sounds of licking, sucking, and Johnny’s high pitched moans as he writhes at the overstimulation. A few moments later he slips out of your mouth, his hand moving to desperately tap at the wood of the headboard.

Simon pulls back, moving back where you can see him, and for a moment you’re offended that Johnny gets to tap out but you don’t. You shut your eyes, confident that it’s over now. You can rest, and when you open your eyes you’ll be safely in your apartment, and it’ll turn out that this whole experience was nothing but the best wet dream of your life.

A moment later large fingers - you don’t look to see who’s - brush over your face and to the back of your head, unbuckling the gag and pulling the ring from your mouth slowly. The hand softly cups your jaw, closing it when you don’t move to, and you can’t help but whine at the spike of soreness.

“Oh, baby,” Johnny coos, somehow sounding genuinely sad about your pain. Someone makes quick work of the ropes, and your joints scream in relief as they drop limply to the bed. Johnny, you assume, shifts you onto your side then slips both his arms around your stomach and tucks himself right up to your back. “I’m sorry. We won’t use that one next time, yeah?”

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything - Simon is still holding your mouth shut, and even as gently as he is you can’t open it enough to talk. You drag your eyes open to look at him. He’s just… he’s just staring, you can’t even begin to imagine what he must be thinking. He cocks his head a bit at you, then lets go of your jaw.

As he moves away from the bed you’re left stunned at your newfound freedom. Tentatively, voice quiet and hoarse, you whisper, “J-Johnny…”

The man only hums in response, nuzzling into the back of your head. His side of the mattress dips and you feel Johnny wiggle around a bit, dragging you with him, and then a new pair of hands rest on your stomach around his.

You’re fucking triple spooning. Triple spooning with the man who kidnapped you.

“Johnny,” you try again. “Please, please, I don’t…please let me go…”

“No,” he says immediately, quick and unabashed. A low, mournful noise rips from your battered throat and his arms tighten around you, legs curling up into you more. “It’ll be okay, lovie. Me and Simon are gonna take real good care of you. Right, L.t.?”

There’s a rumble in response.

You can’t help the tears, limbs beginning to struggle against your control. Johnny’s grip only gets more and more restrictive, his hands reaching to grab your sore wrists and hold them still, his thighs squeezing your knees between them until your legs stop kicking.

“Hush, lassie. Panicin’ll do you no good. Deep breaths for me now.”

You can’t. And you don’t feel particularly inclined to do anything he asks of you.

“Johnny,” you gasp. “Wanna go home. Please, please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, not a soul, I promise, please - ”

“You’re already home,” Simon interrupts, reminding you of his presence and making you jerk in their holds. “Johnny brought you here and here you’ll stay. Now sleep.”

You make a high noise of protest, trying again to struggle away from Johnny. You’re stopped by a large sigh and the feeling of Simon’s massive hands suddenly pulling you back in Johnny, holding you there securely by lacing his hands together.

“Sleep.”

Johnny makes a sound you think is supposed to be comforting above you. “It’ll be okay, lass. You don’t need to worry about anythin’ anymore. We’ve got ya now.”

“I said sleep. The both of you.”

There’s a snort of amusement from Johnny as he pulls his face away, resting his chin on top of your head and going still.

You can only tuck your head into the pillow and try to muffle your sobs.

-----

When you wake next, the room is dark. Not dim, like it was before, but dark. You’re immediately put off by the knowledge that one of them got up at some point and you were too deeply asleep to notice.

The next thing you notice is that the bed isn’t empty. You can feel the dip in the mattress at your back, but there aren’t any arms wrapped around you. You can feel the heat of someone’s body, but no skin.

You stare into the blackness as the thought sinks into your half-asleep mind.

You could escape.

Probably.

Maybe?

You have to try, right? You need to leave. You need to go back to your apartment and call the cops on these psychos.

But that means getting out of bed. Getting out of the warm bed and venturing into the pitch black and unfamiliar room, and that’s if you don’t wake up either of the men behind you.

You have to try.

Your breath hitches in your chest as you start to move, inching slowly across smooth sheets and stilling periodically. Your hands are shaking from fear and adrenaline.

You try to move as slowly as possible as you sit up, legs swinging over the side of the bed and praying to any god that’ll listen that neither of the men will notice the shift in weight.

There’s no sound as you drop to the floor. You’ve never been more thankful for carpet.

You move as slowly as you can around the bed, eyes still unadjusted to the dark and unable to see anything that might be in your way. You take small shuffling steps, hands held out in front of you.

Then you trip. You don’t know over what, but it’s solid and decently small and it sends you tumbling to the ground, elbows and knees landing with a solid thud.

Oh god. There’s no way one of them didn’t wake up.

You’re not an idiot, you picked up on the military rank Johnny used. Simon, at least, is military, and if the stereotypes about military men are anywhere near true the noise of your fall woke him.

Sure enough, you hear someone shift on the bed.

You muffle a sob in your palm, biting down on the meat of it and curling up on the carpet. There’s a noise on the other side of the bed, and you know one of them just got out of bed. You try to stumble to crawl somewhere, anywhere, desperate to not ruin what might be your only chance at escape.

Then, without warning, you’re lifted in the air. You can’t help the yelp as you’re tucked into a pair of arms, one beneath your back and the other under your knees keeping you held close to his chest.

“Hush,” Simon says down at you, and you pinch your lips shut in an attempt to stifle your sobs, tears pouring down your face and soaking your neck. He sighs, shifting you until you’re more secure and moving.

It takes you a moment to realize he hasn’t taken you back to the bed. Instead, he’s taken you into another room and nudged the door shut. He places you down on something cold and when he flicks the light on you realize you’re in a bathroom.

You can’t stop your flinch at the bright light, then your second flinch at the sight of Simon in just a pair of boxers and the same mask he wore earlier. How is it possible that he looks bigger shirtless than he did with a sweatshirt on?

He’s covered in scars, to the point that he’s almost got more scars than he does bare skin. And he still wears the mask over the bottom half of his face and neck, though the makeup has been washed away at some point.

The two of you only stare at each other for a second - you, hunched over and scared with distrusting eyes and him, stood tall and proud with an assessing gaze.

Finally, he sighs, moving towards the counter where you sit. You curl into yourself a bit, watching wearily as he stops when your knees brush his stomach. He lifts a hand to your face, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up to his.

“What’s your name, love?”

You almost snort. This man has fucked you, watched his partner - or whatever Johnny is to him - eat you out and fuck your mouth. And he doesn’t even know your name. You whisper it after a moment of silence, followed by a cough when you register that your throat feels like sandpaper.

Simon hums a bit, repeating your name back to you as he reaches around you, filling a small plastic cup with water from the faucet. You track his movements, unsure of what he could do to the water but unwilling to risk anything at this point.

He hands the cup to you a moment later, saying, “Drink. We worked you hard. You need to rehydrate.”

You can’t help the heat that blooms in your cheeks, and your eyes dart away from his as you take quick sips from the cup. His hand moves back to your face, nudging it up. “Don’t try to hide anything from me now, love. I’ve already seen you at your most vulnerable, nothin’ left for you to hide.”

You shudder a bit at the direct way he says it, so plainly laying out what you had thought a moment before.

“I…” you try again, once you’ve finished the cup. “I want to go home. Please.”

His hand only continues to stroke at your cheek, eyes unflinching where they bore into yours. “No. Johnny brought you here for a reason, I won’t have you leavin’ ‘im now.”

You try to resist the tears, but you have less control over your emotions than you do of the man in front of you. “Please,” you try again, reaching to grip his wrist and feeling him go still at the contact. “I-I’m scared. Please, I won’t tell anyone, I swear, but - “

He cuts you off with a deep rumble, hand shifting beneath your jaw and holding it shut. “You’re not leaving. I don’t want to hear you ask again.” His tone is uncompromising and your sore eyes squeeze shut. “But you’ll be taken care of. Johnny and me, we’ll be good to you.”

Your sobs come out against your will, and Simon sighs. A moment later you hear the water running again, then feel something run across your face. You jerk back, eyes opening on instinct and see that he’s holding a damp cloth to your face.

“Hold still a second,” he murmurs, hand holding the back of your head as he wipes beneath your eyes and down your neck. His hand is so large that his thumb rests on the side of your neck while his other fingers rest on the other. You’re tense, but do what he says, eyes squeezing shut when the washcloth gets a little close for your comfort. He’s especially tender as he swipes the rag over your eyelids, and without even noticing, you relax just the tiniest bit in his grip.

It only takes a few moments, but in the silent bathroom it feels like an eternity.

He steps away after apparently deeming you cleaned up enough, moving just a few steps away and bending over the tub.

You stand on shaky legs as soon as his back is turned, stumbling toward the door as the sound of flowing water fills the room.

As your hand wraps around the doorknob, arms wrap around your waist, gently but securely dragging you and placing you back on the counter and completely ignoring your dismayed cry.

“Wobblin’ around like a fawn,” Simon scolds, placing warm hands on your thighs and holding you still when you move to shove at him instinctively. “Where would you even go, huh? Gonna wander the streets naked ‘til some good samaritan spots you?”

You flush at his condescending tone and spit back angrily, “Better than here.”

“Really?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was offended. “In this neighborhood? Johnny and I are the best you’re gonna get, girl. We’re offering to take care of you and you wanna run off to any scum waiting in the alleys?” He grunts, disgusted. “No. You’ll stay here, and you’ll learn how much better it is. You got that?”

“No!” You burst, legs kicking out at his own before he grabs your knees and shoves into the counter. “You can’t just keep me! I’m not some… some pet for you!’

He surprises you by barking out a harsh laugh, leaning so close to your face that your noses nearly brush and wrapping a hand around your throat. “That’s exactly what you are. A little pet to wait for us at the door, to keep our bed and our cocks warm. A pretty little pet for us to spoil and take care of. The quicker you get it into your thick fuckin’ skull, the easier your life’ll be.”

You bare your teeth up at him, face flushed red from anger and from the steam slowly filling the air. When you don’t respond he grunts and nods once, leaning away from you and moving to turn the flowing water off.

You don’t move from where he put you this time, and when he turns back around he rumbles, “Good girl.”

You don’t know what it says about you that your heart beats a little faster.

He steps back up to you, considers you for a second, then pulls the mask over his head and drops it on the counter.

Simon’s hot. Because of fucking course he’s hot. He’s got scars decorating his face, little nicks that look like they were just deep enough to scar but aren’t more than an inch or so in length. His nose is curved the wrong direction, two bumps in it that make you wonder just how many times it’s been broken. He’s got a broad jaw, high cheekbones, and full lips. His eyebrows hang heavy over his eyes, giving his entire face a severe look.

You deeply resent the blush that grows on your face, forcing a scowl and glancing away. He makes a little hmph sound, and when he steps closer again you can see a little smirk playing on his lips. Ass.

He grabs your elbow, giving you a soft tug to pull you off the counter and leading you to the tub as you stumble behind him. You cross your arms over your chest and hunch your back, suddenly much more aware of your nakedness.

“You get in first,” he grunts, staring at you expectantly over his shoulder. You blink blankly at him for a moment, not moving, until he gives you a little tug closer to the edge of the tub. “Well? While the water’s hot.”

You get in the tub. A moment after you settle in the middle, stiff and mostly confused, he steps in behind you. The tub is big - surprising for an apartment in this neighborhood - and leaves him enough room to put his legs on either side of you. His arms wrap around your chest next, just below your breasts, and he takes you with him as he leans back on the edge and lets out a low moan of satisfaction.

You remain stiff, unable to relax when you still can’t see this man as anything but your captor.

He sighs another moment later at your rigidness. “Relax,” he grumbles, grumpy.

You make a high noise in your throat. “Easier said than done.”

He sighs again, like your discomfort is putting him out. “Relax, or I’ll make you.”

You scowl. “You’ll make me relax? How exactly do you plan on -” You cut yourself off with a choking noise as his left hand grips one tit and the right slides down your stomach to cup your cunt, the weight of it almost a threat.

“Relax,” he says again. When you remain stiff, maybe even stiffer than you were before, he begins to work your clit and brush over your nipple. Softly, and slowly. “Can’t play rough with you right now,” he mumbles, tucking his face into your shoulder and pressing his lips to your neck. “Stop pushing me.”

“I-I’m not,” you stutter, legs shifting and spine going a bit looser as you finally start to settle back into him. He makes a little noise in his throat, one you have no idea how to translate, and softens his movements even further, just… petting your most sensitive parts.

The silence is thick, weighted with the dynamic between the two of you, but not suffocating somehow. The warm water and calming motions of his fingers forces your body into a relaxed state without your intent.

You hardly notice when the door creaks open minutes later, Johnny’s figure shadowed by the dark bedroom. He steps into the bathroom, and you watch as a smile grows on his face at the sight before him. His clear pleasure makes you stiffen a bit, but Simon hums a soothing note that - annoyingly - leaves you boneless.

“Room for another?” Johnny asks, voice rough from sleep.

“Always,” Simon replies, face still mostly hidden in your neck. You watch with half lidded eyes and Johnny, already naked, steps into the tub opposite the two of you. He scoots in close, and leans his chest against yours, giving both you and Simon his weight. You grunt a little under it, but he wraps an arm around your back and floats somewhat, so he feels more like a weighted blanket than anything. He hooks his chin over your free shoulder and gives a great, big sigh of relief. You’re glad for Simon holding you above the water, sure that you’d sink under Johnny’s weight.

You don’t and work up the nerve to speak, a bit afraid that if you provoke them too much they’ll use sex as a distraction.

Still, their equally loose-limbed bodies and the bath has lulled you into an almost dream-like state, and you can’t resist pushing a little bit more.

“There are people who will look for me,” you mumble, staring at the steam fogging up the tiles on the wall.

“Then you’ll tell them where you are,” Johnny grumbles against you, the vibrations of his chest moving to yours.

“I’ll tell them to call the police.”

“Then you won’t get access to a phone until we can trust you,” Simon, this time, says. His fingers are hardly moving now, just the occasional twitch when you shift one way or another.

“What do you want from me?” You whisper, unable to help the crack in your voice or the tinge of desperation.

Johnny rumbles soothingly, shifting his hand to stroke up and down your back. “You just need to be like this, lovie. Soft. Sweet. Something to spoil and treat nice.”

“A pet,” you whisper, unwanted tears burning at the back of your eyes that you close your eyes tight against, tired of all the crying.

“A pet,” Simon agrees behind you, limbs tightening around you. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“We’ll be so good to you,” Johnny says, voice right in your ear. “We’ll get you whatever you want. Once we know you won’t leave, we’ll take you wherever you want to go. All you have to do is let us take care of you. It’ll be good, lassie. I promise.”

You sniffle, and get a coo from both men in response.

None of you speak again. The water cools slowly, and when you shiver for the first time Simon shifts to unplug the tub and pulls all three of you out.

You’re in a daze as Johnny tugs you to stand on a bathmat in front of him, a smile playing on his lips as he cups your cheeks and gives you a soft kiss. You don’t respond, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

They dry you methodically - Johnny toweling the parts of your hair that got wet, Simon patting down the rest of you.

It’s Johnny that carries you to bed, gripping the backs of your thighs and urging you to curl your legs around his waist.

“Did a number on her back, Johnny.”

“Lost control, L.t. You felt how tight she is - fuckin’ heaven.”

“Hm. Paradise.”

“So I take it you like your gift?

“Don’t play coy, MacTavish. It doesn’t suit you.”

“On the contrary, sir - everythin’ suits me.”

“Shut up.”

You tune out their voices, aware only tangentially of a hand stroking across your hair as you’re laid in bed. Johnny keeps you at his front, mimicking the position the two of you had taken before… everything. Your legs tangled together, his arm under your head, his head on yours, your face in his throat. The only difference is that Simon slides in behind you, wrapping his big arms around both of you and tugging you tight to his body. His leg slips over yours, and their combined weight holds you deep in the mattress.

“Go to sleep, love,” one of them mutters. “Tomorrow will be better. You’ll see.”

You close your dry eyes and fall asleep with warm, sated limbs.

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kruegerspillow · 6 months

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Soap Mactavish general headcanons — SFW

Writers note: I miss him so much 😭 I'm really trying to forgive Makarov after what he'd done to this poor boy 🥹 This is another way to cope with his deathh, I'll never get over this :( I cried so hard because of this 😭😭😭

• Definitely LOVES physical touch, he would be wrapping his arms around your waist and kiss you everytime he gets to. Loves PDA.

• Not really clingy. He likes to spend time with you if he has the time to, but he would understand if you need space or anything like that. He would still give you comfort if you let him.

• LOVES to joke. In the middle of a mission, in the evac, in dates, anywhere. He would do anything to see your smile.

• He wouldn't like sharing you with anybody else. If you're dating him, then you're his.

• Doesn't get jealous easily. He knows that he can trust you fully, so he doesn't see why he should get jealous if you're talking to another guy.

• Snores. Like really loud, especially after a tiring day. He would just come home, if you're sleeping then he'll just sleep beside you, hugging you from behind.

• Big spoon, small spoon, literally any. As long as he gets to be close to you, he'll take it.

• Loves stargazing, he'll just sit beside you, looking at the stars while admiring you at the same time.

• LOVESS your eyes, whatever color it is, he would love to stare at them anytime.

• He'd like someone who's slightly chubbier tbh. Like he can just hug them as if they're a teddy bear.

• He gets really happy to just see you at home after a long mission. Especially if you're still awake, then you'll have time to talk together with him.

• A softie for you. He has a huuuugee soft spot for you and he shows it. He loves showing affection for you and making you feel loved.

• Pet names are a HUGE yes for him. Literally loves calling you ‘bonnie’. And if you give him one, he'll melt into a puddle.

• He thinks of you every time. In missions, he has one reason to keep going further, which is you. In the airport, he'll think of you, what your reaction would be when he comes home to you.

• Definitely cried with you once or twice after coming back home. Like you could just start tearing up and he does too. His heart aches for you.

• If he comes back injured, he'll deny that he's in pain until the fact that you had to help clean his wounds up for him. He loves it when you care for him like that.

• Hates seeing you cry. Like he would get really mad at the person who made you cry, or he'll stay by your side until you fall asleep or stop crying. He'll let you cry onto his shoulder until it's wet with your tears.

• Falls asleep in the middle of movie night. He tries so hard to stay awake but his exhaustion takes over sometimes, and if you let him sleep on your shoulder, he'll literally hold his tears the next day.

• Loves holding your hand. He likes your presence in general, because he feels comfort and love from you.

• Would adopt a dog tbh, he'll take care of them so we'll and he would literally be so happy to see you playing together with his dog.

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod mw2 #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #Johnny Soap Mactavish headcanons #cod headcanons #cod fanfic #call of duty warzone #cod #johnny Soap Mactavish x you

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gogh-with-the-flow · 1 year

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Blood in the Wine-4

Chapter 4: Botanicals

A/N: I know it’s been a damn long time coming, but here it is! thank you all for your continued patience. i hope you like this chapter. it was a labor of love for sure.

Reader x Vampire!141

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: descriptions of vomiting and sickness, knife mention, vampirism, Soap gets what’s coming to him, suggestiveness (barely)

Song for this chapter: In Bottles by Aurora.

MASTERLIST, CH1, CH2, CH3, CH5, CH6, CH7

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You woke again in the same bed, but with none of the comfortable peace of the last morning. You jolted awake, blood running cold, and sat bolt upright. You were alone in the room this time, and sunlight was streaming through the window. It must've been around midday. They had done it to you again. You were haunted by that underwater feeling, that loss of control; the violent peace that was forced upon you by honey-dripping lips.

You felt sick.

You ran to the bathroom as you felt the telltale sign of your mouth salivating as your stomach turned; stinging nettles stabbing their way up your esophagus. You barely made it to the toilet before your abdominal muscles clenched painfully and you emptied the contents of your stomach into the bowl.

It was bitter, the acid biting you the whole time while you heaved and heaved, until you had nothing left to give but thick, green bile. You closed your eyes and flushed. Maybe that cheese wasn't so edible after all.

But it wasn't the cheese- or maybe it was, it probably was- but that wasn't all. You felt sick from the way Soap had controlled you like a puppet, shoving his fist into your chest and manipulating your very emotions. You felt hollowed out, mummified. You wouldn't let it happen again.

You stood on shaky legs and hobbled over to the sink to rinse out the bad taste left in your mouth. You still felt sick. The only food you had eaten in four days was now making its way down the drain. How were you even still walking? Maybe it was some sort of residual healing from Soap's mouth on you. Yeah, that had to be it.

You couldn't let them do that to you again. They'd told you that today would be your rest day, but they would feed on you again tomorrow. You couldn't risk it. You couldn't have their mouths on you like that again. You had to get out of there- tonight.

You hurried back to your room and went straight to the window and wrenched back the curtains to find- bars. The windows were barred with intricate cast iron. Of course they were. You cursed loudly to yourself. You'd have to find another way. You'd just have to wait a little longer.

You went to try the door next, and found it unlocked. You stepped over the threshold slowly, glancing back and forth and listening, trying to determine if any of them were nearby. Nothing. Down the hall was a staircase which you descended before pausing once again. You heard two distant voices talking down the hall somewhere. Two voices you recognize: Gaz and Soap. You heard them laughing, and the sound of it made your blood boil.

You followed their voices, bare feet padding ever so softly as you crept up on them, picking up bits of their conversation.

"... bet you had fun…"

"...tasted so good…"

"...good as me?..."

"Even better."

"Don't be a fucking tease…"

You heard a clatter and a groan, and you rounded the corner into the kitchen, where Gaz had Soap pinned against the counter. Gaz's hand was hooked on a leather choker around Soap's neck, pulling their faces close as Gaz pushed his body flush against the other man. Soap was shorter than Gaz by a few inches, but Soap had Gaz beat in muscle; the taller man was more of a lean build in comparison to Soap's bulk.

Gaz was smiling wolfishly down at Soap when he noticed your figure hovering in the doorway and his smile faltered. He stepped back from Soap, releasing his hold on the collar.

"Your girlfriend's awake," he muttered. Soap turned to you with a wide grin, approaching you with arms wide open.

"There's our bonnie las-" His words were cut off by a sharp smack against his cheek. He froze just a foot away from you. Your palm stung deliciously. You felt vindicated. He slowly turned his head to look at you, absolutely stunned.

"How dare you? You fucking bastard!" You were livid, just looking at Soap's annoying face. Soap. What a ridiculous name for such a horrid man.

"Calm dow-"

"No!" you cried, snapping your hands up to your ears and scrunched your eyes shut to block the syrupy words from infecting your mind again. "Don't you dare! Not again, this is my turn to talk, understand?" You paused for a moment, your own heartbeat drumming away in your plugged ears. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes and met Soap's hard eyes.

"You don't get to do that to me anymore. You can keep me here, and you can feed off of me, but don't you dare try to control my fucking emotions! You don't get to just- just fucking hypnotize me into being happy with all of this! That's bullshit!"

You finished with a huff, breathing hard after your outburst. Your face was mere inches away from Soaps, both of you fuming. Gaz was off to the side, just watching- always just watching- but you paid him no mind.

"Anything else?" Soap asked, voice clipped and measured as he tried his damnedest to remain calm. You both stood in wretched, furious silence, each waiting for the next shoe to drop. And by God, you weren't just going to drop it, you'd throw it right in his face.

"Soap is a stupid name for a vampire."

"Alright ya wee cun-"

"Soap, settle down-" Gaz finally interjected and threw an arm between you two.

"No, no! Let him finish, what were you gonna say, huh?"

The kitchen quickly dissolved into chaos. Soap throwing words at you that you could barely comprehend through his accent; you egging him on, ecstatic to finally give him back a taste of his own medicine; and Gaz, poor Gaz, in between the two of you, trying and failing to get you both to calm down.

"What the bloody hell is going on in here?!" A booming voice rang throughout the kitchen shocking you all into silence. Soap quickly composed himself, barely putting a lid over his simmering anger, as Price approached the three of you. Gaz stepped away quickly, but Soap was reluctant to move, and so Price pulled him back with a rough hand on the shoulder.

"Yeah, Soap, what is going on?" You teased. Price shot you a warning look, but you didn't care. They'd promised not to hurt you, right? So you were going to push as many buttons as you could get your vengeful little fingers on.

"She just walked in and hit me!" Soap complained.

"Did you deserve it?"

"No!-" "Yes!-" you both answered at the same time. Price sighed.

"Gaz, did he deserve it?"

"I have no clue what's going on, sir" Gaz answered, putting up his hands in a mock surrender.

"Soap, explain."

"No, I'll explain," you interjected before Soap even had the chance to open his mouth. Soap glared at you. Price turned toward you expectantly. "Last night, after our meeting, I let Soap feed on me. I held up my end of the bargain. And what does he do? He gives me food poisoning, yells at me, and then fucking hypnotizes me when I cried, and then- and then forces me to sleep!" You vented, getting your heartrate up once again. You almost thought you saw Price's nose flare as he listened to you. Maybe he was listening to more than your voice.

"Is this true, Soap?" Price asked without taking his eyes off of you. Soap shifted uncomfortably.

"She was hungry and tired. Was only trying to help, sir."

"So you compelled her to get her to stop crying?" Price clarified, taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose. Soap remained silent. "Yeah I'd say you deserve a lot more than a slap in the face for that."

"Sir, I-"

"Take a walk, Mactavish. I'll deal with you later." Soap hesitated, looking between you and Price in frustration. "Now, Soap," Price added sternly. And with that, Soap turned on his heels and exited the kitchen without another word. You stared daggers into his back as he walked away. Price turned to you once he was gone.

"I apologize for him. You'll have to give him time, he hasn't had a meaningful conversation with a human woman since the 80's."

"That explains the hair," you snarked.

"You're one to talk," responded Gaz from across the room. He had a point. Throughout your adolescence and into adulthood, your hair had been dyed nearly every color of the rainbow and cut to various lengths. Currently it was a navy blue, cut into a shoulder-length shag. Still, you weren't about to take any lip from him. You still hadn't forgiven him.

"Oh shut up, Kyle. You sneered his name like it was a bitter taste on your tongue.

"It's Gaz."

"You told me your friends call you 'Gaz.' We're not friends, Kyle. Friends don't kidnap each other to recruit them into some fucking- I don't know- undead death cult!" You had rounded on him now, the hatred that was aimed at Soap moments ago now laser focused on the man who had betrayed you.

"That's quite enough," Price demanded, stepping between the two of you. "Gaz, get out." Gaz took a deep breath, giving you one last regretful look before exiting the kitchen, same as Soap.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him. He cares about you," Price said with a sigh.

"He lied to me!"

"What would you have done if he'd told you the truth, hm?"

"I'd be home safe," you bit back. Price just looked at you, expression unreadable. A tense moment passed before Price spoke again.

"Let's get you something to eat," he suggested as he turned and walked further into the kitchen.

"If it's moldy cheese again, I'd rather starve," you mumbled. Price tossed you a look, and muttered a fucking hell, Soap under his breath.

As he moved about the kitchen, you saw what Soap and Gaz must have been doing before you'd interrupted. There were bags of groceries littered across the counters: fresh produce, dried pasta, frozen dinners, anything you could've been craving was laid out in various stages of organization.

Before you could stop yourself, you hurried over to one of the bags and grabbed an apple, immediately biting in. Fuck, you were hungry. You ate ravenously, barely chewing before diving in again. Juice was running down your chin but you couldn't care less. How the hell had you gone so long without eating? Especially after being bled last night.

You barely registered Price's eyes on you. He watched your mouth working, chewing, eating. Once you noticed, you stared at him- stared at him staring at you. Then he noticed you staring, and he cleared his throat with a nervous smile.

"Sorry, just- haven't done that in a while. Eat, I mean." There was something in his eyes as he averted his gaze. Longing, maybe? He went back to putting away the groceries.

You finished your apple- core and all- and moved to dig through another bag. You found a microwave pizza and ripped open the package without hesitation. You pressed a button on the microwave, not caring about the cooking instructions. It would probably be cold in the middle, but you couldn't find it within yourself to care.

As you waited for the microwave to finish, you took in your surroundings with greater detail. The kitchen was clean, lacking any grease stains or food splatters anywhere; but at the same time, it wasn't clean at all. A thin layer of dust covered nearly every surface. There were no signs of life in this room, save for the new addition of human groceries. It made sense. Why would vampires have any use for a kitchen? Price continued to work quietly beside you.

The microwave beeped, and you snatched the pizza out, immediately taking a bite and burning the roof of your mouth. You dropped it on the countertop.

"Easy, love. Food's not going anywhere," Price scolded. He handed you a glass of water, and you gulped it down greedily. Fuck, you were thirsty, too. You were so dehydrated. You felt Price's eyes on you again, and as you finished the water and set the glass down, you turned to him.

"Could I just have a minute, please?” you asked. You tried to find the right words. "You keep watching me eat, and it's a little… it's making me nervous."

"Right, yes, of course," Price said, appearing just as flustered as you were. "I'll just… I'll give you some time to yourself. Be back in a bit, give you a tour of the place. Eat up." And then he left you alone.

You filled the glass with water again, and then went back to your little pizza. You settled on one of the barstools at the kitchen island and let your mind wander as you ate.

You needed to get out of this place. You weren't safe here. Sure, Price had promised they wouldn't hurt you physically, but they were clearly still capable of compelling you to do whatever they desired. And who knew how long they'd keep their promise, anyway? You haven't even met the one named Ghost, the one who had come the closest to killing you. It was only a matter of time before one of them lost control and bled you dry. This was the last day you'd stay here.

You wracked your mind trying to think up a plan when your eyes landed on the knife block. You thought about taking one but hesitated. They'd surely notice it missing from the display. So you set about digging through the drawers looking for silverware. One, two, three drawers you opened and then you found it. You retrieved a butter knife and slipped it into your pant leg. You prayed to whatever was listening that they wouldn't notice it. This house was old, maybe the locks were too.

You slipped back onto the barstool just in time, because soon after Price marched into the kitchen once again as you finished the last few bites of your food.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you were sure he heard it, judging by the quirk of his eyebrow, but you hoped you played it off as surprise at his arrival, rather than from getting caught doing something you're sure Price would not approve of.

"Alright?" He checked.

"Yeah, just snuck up on me is all," you lied. "You're pretty quiet on your feet for such a big guy." And he was a big guy. Over six feet tall with a broad chest and even broader shoulders that looked like they could carry the weight of the world. You wondered how long he's lived, how much weight he really did carry, how many lives he's taken with his bite. You hoped you'd never get the chance to find out.

"Get enough to eat?" He asked.

"For now, at least," you confirmed with a nod.

"I'll have Gaz cook you up something for dinner later. Soap is getting the video player set up in your room so you can watch something when you're done eating."

"I don't want Soap in my room," you protested. Price gave you a pointed look, clearly getting fed up with your non-compliance. He ignored your protest.

"Come on, I'll show you around the place. He led you out the kitchen door on the other side of the room, which led to a hallway with doors along one side. "Servant's quarters. Though, we haven't had servant's living here for a century." You followed him to the front of the house. "Library in this corner. Gaz mentioned you liked to read. Use it freely."

He turned the corner into the grand foyer, an ornate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a large winding staircase led up to the second floor. The floor was marble, but was in need of polishing. Cobwebs stretched across the arms of the glittering chandelier above you.

"The staircase will lead you back to the bedrooms, or you can use the back staircase again. Either will do. Back in the day, the back stairs were only used by the servants." How long ago was "back in the day?"

He continued across the foyer to the hall on the other side. He showed you the dining room, the ballroom, and finally the conservatory. The plants were all dead. Eventually you came to the servant's stairs again at the back of the house, and you followed him up.

"This is your room, obviously. The rest of the rooms are empty. My study is at the end of the hall around the corner, towards the front of the house. If you ever need me, chances are you'll find me there," he told you. "During daylight hours, you may walk in the garden. Use the door in the conservatory." Then he turned to you with a stern look, his steely eyes hardened and cold like a glinting knife. Like the knife you'd hidden on your person.

"You must go out only in daylight. And you must never leave the garden. Don't wander off, don't try to leave. We'll know." He placed a massive hand gently on your shoulder. "I tell you this for your own safety. As Lord of this manor, I have absolute authority. But if you leave, then I can not protect you.” He was leaning over you, eyes boring into you, daring you to defy him. His face was so close to you, his breath wafted over you, and you could smell the tobacco on it. Aged. Expensive. You could practically count the individual hairs of his beard, his eyelashes.

“Do you understand?” he asked softly. You only nodded. It was a lie, of course. You were planning on going into the garden and beyond tonight. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him, right? “Good.” He leaned away from you again, and you felt something tug in the pit of your stomach- something like yearning. You choked it back down. “The last thing we need is you getting any big ideas,” he added. It was all you could do to keep your breathing steady. Does he know? But then he turned and walked towards his study, you supposed.

“Oh,” he paused and turned back to you. “There’s also a sizable pond in the garden. You’re welcome to swim if you like.”

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” you responded. Price just smiled wryly, looking at you with hunger in his pale blue eyes.

“Shame.” was all he said, and then he turned the corner down the hall. Oh.

You weren’t quite sure what to do now that you were left alone. You stood in the hallway for a moment, wondering what to do next. You decided to check out the gardens. It would be wise to get a lay of the land before you made your escape. You descended the stairs once again and soon found yourself at the glass door of the conservatory. You turned the brass handle and stepped in. The floor was smooth, cut stone. There were hanging baskets and standing pedestals with pots of dead, dried plants. Withered, wilted leaves drooped sadly over the sides of terracotta left and right. The room smelled of mycelium. The air was stale. There was an overturned cast iron pedestal off to the side. There were traces of dirt and broken pottery around it, as if someone had lazily and hastily swept it up, but they hadn’t really cared about cleaning it thoroughly. You walked forward and reset the pedestal.

You opened the french doors onto the patio and breathed in fresh air for the first time in days; since you had gone to the club with Gaz. No. Kyle. you walked out into the garden. There was a large stone fountain in between two rows of flowerbeds. The fountain looked like it hadn’t run in decades. The flowerbeds were overgrown with weeds. Further out, the garden extended down a hill. There was a creek running perpendicular to the slope. The babbling water seemed to be the only sign of life in this whole place. A small arching bridge crossed over it. As you wandered the grounds, you took note of the fruit trees planted here and there. None of them were bearing fruit.

You crossed the bridge and took the wandering path along the hillside until you came across the pond Price had mentioned. Based on the state of the rest of the garden, you had expected it to be muddy and full of algae, smelling like rotten fish and dead frog spawn. Instead, you were happily proven wrong. The water was crystal clear and sparkling in the light of the slowly setting sun. on the far side of the pond, beyond the shore, was a tree line: the beginning of a thick forest.

You decided to take advantage of your bare feet and waded into the water, just up to your ankles you closed your eyes and the feeling of the cold water lapping at your calves and the soft silt settling in between your toes. You felt… peace. You finally felt at peace, and it wasn’t due to Soap or Kyle manipulating you this time. You felt stinging behind your eyes and your breath hitched. A hot tear traveled down the side of your nose and settled in the corner of your mouth. It tasted salty.

A gentle breeze rustled your hair and tickled the back of your neck. The sound of leaves rustling in the trees across the pond. A fish splashed against the surface, probably catching a waterbug for its dinner. A moment passed and then you felt the tiny waves wobble up and down your leg. You breathed deeply. Your tear dribbled off your chin and landed in the pond. You felt electrified.

Your body always felt like it woke up whenever you were surrounded by nature like this. You’d lived in cities your whole life, but when you were able to get out in the countryside, or when you took a walk in the woods of a state park, everything seemed so much sharper. The sky was bluer, the grass greener, the flowers more fragrant. You dug your toes deeper into the saturated soil beneath you. It grounded you. Even in a barren place such as this manor, the energy of nature brought out your soul from the hardened shell of your body. You felt alive in this moment. A bird took flight from an apple tree somewhere far off to your right. Some little creature deep in the forest burrowed beneath a log, searching for seeds or bugs.

“Hey,” a voice suddenly interrupted, “sun’s setting, you need to get inside. Dinner’s ready.”

“Christ, Kyle!” you shouted as you whipped around, nearly slipping in the mud. But Kyle’s arms were there to steady you. You shrugged him off and ignored the subdued pain in his maroon eyes. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You had been so in tune with the sound of life around you, how had you missed his footsteps behind you? Maybe because he isn’t alive.

“Sorry, I thought you’d heard me.” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, refraining from eye contact. “Seriously, though, you need to get back inside before dark.”

You digested his words and looked up at the sky. Sure enough, the sun was already behind the tree line to the west. You’d completely lost track of time, lost in the magic of nature around you. You stepped out of the pond and felt that your toes had become pruney. How long had you been out here?

“Come on,” he demanded with just a touch more urgency in his voice as he turned back to the house and started up the path. You followed after him silently. Before long you were back in the stuffy old house, breathing in that dusty old air. Gaz glanced down at the expensive-looking watch on his wrist, then out again at the window, taking in the quickly darkening sky.

“Head up to your room now, I’ll bring your food up to you.” You didn’t move quickly enough for him, just looking at him with a challenging curiosity. “Hurry!” he commanded, ushering you towards the back stairs, tossing another anxious glance outside. You finally listened to him and bounded up the steps. You reached your bedroom door, but before you opened it, you paused to listen. The house was so quiet. Not even the floorboards settled to make a noise. It was like the building itself was holding its breath. You entered your room and locked the door behind you.

Walking to your bed, you fished out the knife from your pants and planted it beneath the mattress, just in case any of the boys- Soap specifically- tried to get handsy again. You didn’t think they would, not after your spat this afternoon; and Price had told you today you would be off from feeding; but you were slow to trust these men, and you couldn’t be too safe.

You stood back from the bed, smoothing the covers back over the mattress to remove any trace of tampering, when something caught your eye. A large, very large flatscreen television was mounted to the wall opposite your bed. You didn’t know the exact size of it, but it covered a greater portion of the wall. A small table had been placed beneath it with a DVD player connected to the TV with various wires. At least Soap can keep one promise.

There was a knock at your door, and slowly you moved to open it. Kyle stood there, tray in hand.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“I thought you didn’t need permission to enter,” you challenged.

“Well, I was just trying to be polite,” he countered. “But since you wanna be difficult…” he trailed off, and then he was pushing past you into the bedroom.

“Hey!”

“Here’s your dinner,” he announced, dropping the tray unceremoniously into your nightstand, not dissimilar to what Soap had done the night before. He must have sensed your guard going up again, because he turned to you with a sigh and a soft maroon look. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, taking a tentative step toward you. When you didn’t retreat, he continued forward until he was standing before you. You found yourself longing for him to touch you, to hold you like he had before this mess. He did not touch you.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he drew in a deep breath. “This is all new to me. And I know it’s not easy for you either, I just-” his hand twitched at his side. “I’m sorry. For everything.” And then he left, locking the deadbolt behind him. He left you confused and frustrated once again. He had a habit of doing that to you, it seemed.

You turned your attention to the tray on your nightstand. A ceramic bowl sat in the center with a glass of water to one side and silverware to the other. You stepped forward to get a look at the contents of the bowl: a simple bowl of pasta with pesto sauce. He remembered. You had only mentioned your fondness for pesto once over the phone. You felt the cage around your heart loosen just a tiny bit. But you wouldn't let this convince you to stay.

Without another thought, you sat at the edge of your bed and dug in. It was good, Christ was it good. Had Gaz made the sauce from scratch? Before you knew it, you were twisting the last bit of pasta around your fork. You were satiated, but not satisfied. You wouldn’t be satisfied until you were out of this dreadful manor and away from these men.

You wondered if Soap had fulfilled his other promise of retrieving the rest of your clothes. Replacing the bowl onto the tray, you stepped over to the wardrobe, and sure enough, it was packed full of ripped jeans and various tee shirts. You rummaged through the hangers until you found one of your heavier jackets and shrugged it on. You found a pair of your chunky black boots and then moved to the dresser to dig out a pair of socks, and then put both articles on. The sun had fully set by now.

You checked the door. Sure enough, it was locked from the outside, not that you’d let that stop you. You retrieved your knife from under the bed and wedged it between the door and the doorframe, wiggling it back and forth, up and down, nudging it gently to keep it quiet. Finally, you felt something shift with an audible click. You tried the knob once again, and it turned. You were right, the locks were old. Opening the door slightly, you listened for any movement, any creaking floorboard or squeaking door hinge. You were met with nothing but the sound of your own breath.

You moved silently down the stairs and thanked the deity if your choosing that the door to the conservatory was so close to them. The handle squeaked ever so slightly when you turned it, and you froze, listening intently. But no gnashing teeth emerged from the shadows of the hallways, so you continued. Once inside the conservatory, you hurried to the outside door, and breathed in the sweet fresh air once again. There was nothing holding you back anymore. You said a bitter goodbye to the old house.

You sprinted past the fountain, down the hill, nearly tripping over gravity, and down the path to the pond. The stars sparkled overhead. There were no lights of the city to pollute them away from your view. Orion’s belt lit your way, and you swore you'd never run this fast in your life. You ran and ran, around the shoreline of the pond, slipping once, twice on the soft ground, but you continued. You reached the tree line. All you had to do was get away, make it to the next town, or maybe a nearby farmhouse. You were closing in on the last base on your homerun. Then you hit something dark and unmoving.

People always talk about fight or flight responses, but few remember to mention the third option: freeze. That’s what you always seemed to do when faced with danger. You’d always hated the way you’d freeze. Your limbs would lock up, your lungs would contract. Whenever your mother screamed at you, or a customer at work would get angry with you, all you’d ever do was stand there. That’s how you found yourself sprawled out of the forest floor.

You were face-to-face with Death himself. An enormous black shadow towered over you, the face of the Grim Reaper floating well over six feet in the air. Bright, searing red eyes burned into you almost painfully. Whereas Gaz’s eyes were a deep burgundy, these eyes seemed to glow with hellfire. Its chest heaved, arms shaking as it looked down at you. You could practically feel the rage radiating off of it. You’d never felt so small, not even when your mother sat you down on the couch to berate you for whatever she’d deemed you’d done wrong.

The shadows seemed to be drawn to him, dark fog swirling at his feet, threatening to cover you, suffocate you. All you could do was sit there in the damp grass and look up at the hulking creature. Its death-face stared back at you, and it muttered only one word, its voice so deep you felt it reverberate in the dirt beneath you.

“Run.”

---

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