#soap mactavish x ghost riley
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i'll eat you whole (ghost x soap)
summary: After a terrible accident during a race, Johnny is left abandoned and lost in the forests of Alaska. While looking for shelter, he’s cornered by a bear.
word count: 10.8k
cw: dark fic!!!, noncon sex, dog hybrid johnny & bear hybrid simon, kidnapping, trans ftm soap, degradation, forced feminization, breeding kink, bloody kisses, spanking, size difference
read on ao3 - see the pinterest board
Johnny hadn’t meant to get lost. He’d meant to win the goddamn Iditarod instead of coming in second for the fourth year in a row, but nothing in his life has gone to plan recently.
Considering how long he’d been training for this stupid fucking race, you’d think his parents would’ve had him running a half decent musher’s sled - you break your ankle one time and suddenly your parents (your managers when you’re an unlucky bastard like him) act like you’ll never run again, sell you off to the highest bidder, and wipe their hands of you.
Sure Johnny’s injury still flares with pain sometimes, but he’s perfectly capable of gritting his teeth and running through it, like a real racer. He’d even made a full recovery - cleared by a doctor and everything. It’s bullshit he’d gotten stuck with whoever put up the most money.
This year, the highest bidder happened to be some brat human who thought using daddy’s money to buy the best sled and dog shifters meant he could win the Iditarod. Idiot. A bigoted idiot, too, considering how often he’d spoken to Johnny and all the other shifters like they’re actual dogs when they’d shifted into their dog forms. Johnny had been one expectant snap from biting straight through the dumbass’s hand.
Though for as much of an idiot as he was, the brat hadn’t deserved to die. And he especially didn’t deserve to take 13 other people down with him.
Johnny can’t help but shiver at the memory of their deaths. He’d been the only one to survive, and it was pure luck. He’d never been so close to death.
Their musher had taken a shortcut - an unknown, unexplored shortcut - and it cost the rest of them their lives. Johnny can recall the exact moment he realized they were running on packed ice instead of frozen dirt, the way every dog had tried to stop as they all had the same realization, had heard the same deafening crack.
In the end, Johnny was the only one able to sink his claws into the top of the ice, the only one able to scramble out of the freezing lake and back onto solid ground. He’d been quick enough to get the little booties off his paws, lucky enough to flail in the exact right direction.
He’d tried to pull his fellow racers up, but hadn’t been able to get a firm hold on any of them. They hadn’t been able to calm their panic enough to think, and he hadn’t been strong enough to lift them up with all the struggling. In the end, all thirteen of them died, floating beneath the thick layer of ice.
He’s lost other shifters on the race before, seen frozen corpses as he’s run, but he already knows that the image of his teammates drowning is one he’s going to see for the rest of his life. The whites of their eyes, the cries so pained they nearly sounded human, the scratches and thumps from beneath the ice as the current took them… already, he sees it all when he blinks.
He’d gotten off the ice as quickly as possible, stumbled into an unfamiliar forest on four paws. Now he treks through a frozen forest, body so wracked with shivers that he can hardly walk straight. Every exhale blinds him for a moment, the clouds of white air blocking his sight of everything else white in the area.
He has no idea what to do. Instinct tells him to keep moving, that he can’t give up, but he has no idea how to get back to the track. Between the “shortcut” and the general unfamiliarity of the area, he’s got no way of knowing if he’s even going in the right direction or if he’s just wandering further away. His best hope is that they send helicopters for wounded racers early, and that one spots him from the sky and picks him up.
Johnny’s not an idiot, he knows the odds of that happening - or of him being alive to see it happen - are slim to none. What he really needs to do is try and find somewhere warm, but that doesn’t exactly seem possible in the frozen tundra of Alaska.
His pessimistic musings are interrupted by a sound - a growl, to his right and from an uncomfortably close distance.
Johnny nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees the bear only a few meters away.
It’s a big beast even on all fours, has to be nearly eight feet tall at the shoulder. Johnny can’t see much but the shape of it, but that’s enough for him to know he needs to get away as soon as possible.
He’s taken safety training courses for being lost in the wilderness his whole life, knows that if you spot a polar bear you’re supposed to move away as slowly as possible without looking away, never making any sudden or aggressive moves. So Johnny lowers himself a little closer to the ground, can’t help the soft hiss of air through his teeth at the touch of cold ice against his sensitive belly, and shuffles back as slowly as he can with stiff limbs.
If his vision isn’t failing him, the bear tilts its head. It occurs to Johnny that the bear might be a shifter, but if that’s true he should know to put the pieces together that the husky in the snow is probably a lost racer, and the polite thing to do would be to show he’s a shifter too. Of course, there’s always the chance he’s not polite.
Regardless, Johnny continues his slow shuffles backwards. His heartrate kicks up as the bear moves towards him, but it's mannerisms read more curious than aggressive so Johnny forces himself to lay still and not bolt in another direction. He wouldn’t make it very far anyway, not with the chill seeping into his bones the way it is.
The bear’s even more terrifying from flat on the ground, so tall that it blocks out the sun when it stands over Johnny. He bites back a whimper, fights the instinctual urge to show his belly to a clearly stronger animal.
The bear snuffles along his spine, its warm breath sinking into Johnny’s soaked fur. He feels a tongue poke out to stroke against a small cut on his left side, where either a piece of ice or another shifter's claws had gotten him. It’s not bleeding much anymore - Johnny can hardly even feel the sting with the rest of the cold - but the bear licks it several times anyway, almost like it’s cleaning the small wound.
Johnny’s careful to lay perfectly still, nothing more than his ear twitching as the bear continues its perusal. It’s oddly thorough, even goes so far as to try and force its snout underneath his ribs to try and flip him over. Johnny digs his claws into the snow and goes stiff as he can, and a moment later the bear huffs and moves on.
Once it’s finished looking for whatever it seems to want, it starts to shove at him again. This time it’s pushier, and manages to actually lift Johnny’s bottom half off the ground with a particularly rough shove to his hindlegs.
Eventually Johnny has to stand on his own four legs or he’ll be sent ass over teakettle. He moves a few feet in the direction the bear is nudging him, then settles back into the snow with his ears pressed flat.
That gets him an angry huff, one that has his hackles rising. He shuffles another few steps, then drops again, hoping the damn beast will give up whatever it wants - clearly it’s not dinner, or Johnny would already be torn to shreds. But the fact that he’s still got all of his limbs doesn’t make him any less nervous around the absolute behemoth of a bear.
After his third time moving a few feet and dropping, the bear seems to give up on him. It snorts out an aggravated noise and noses the thick fur at the back of Johnny’s neck before grabbing with his teeth and lifting.
All thoughts of no sudden movements fly out of Johnny’s head and he jerks, yelping at the sudden change, and nearly tears himself away from the bear until there’s a snarl above his head.
The sound speaks to a deep part of Johnny’s hind-brain, the animal part of him that commands go still when met with a predator who outclasses him in every way. Even if he wanted to fight and struggle, his body decides to go limp in the bear’s jaws and he’s left feeling like a scruffed pup.
The bear walks for a long time, Johnny’s body swaying in his hold. Eventually he takes them to a large cave in the side of a nearby mountain - another point for the shifter theory, since even Johnny knows that polar bears tend to burrow underground rather than make their dens in a cave.
He struggles just a bit when the bear walks into the cave, uncomfortable with being so defenseless in a more closed off area. But another of those menacing growls and his brain works against him, body going limp. There’s a rumble against his shoulder where it rests against the bear’s chest, and Johnny idly wonders if bears purr.
The path through the cave is long and winding, the walls slowly getting closer and closer but never so close that the bear can’t comfortably walk through them.
Finally, after what feels like hours to Johnny’s frostbitten brain, the bear steps into a more open cave. There are furs covering the stone floor from wall to wall, several layered over each other in certain spots, and a roaring fire in the center of the room.
That confirms his shifter theory. No true bear is skinning its prey for their pelts, or starting a fire in their cave. The knowledge that he’s (likely) not going to be eaten allows the last few hints of tension to melt from Johnny’s bones.
He flops like dead weight when the bear drops him without warning in front of the fire. He whines a little, shoots a glare at the beast and rubs a paw over his head in discomfort. He gets a snort in response, and then the bear curves himself around Johnny’s back, making sure to angle him so his other side is facing the fire.
As much as Johnny hates to put so much faith into a stranger, he can’t help but feel safe surrounded by the bear’s warmth. He knows he’s an idiot to trust so quickly, but surely no one with bad intentions would drag him all the way across the forest and deep into their cave? It would’ve been easier to just ignore him completely.
So, against his better judgment, Johnny allows the warmth to lull him to sleep. He rests his head on one of the bear’s paws as a pillow, gives them an affectionate huff before letting himself drift off.
———————————————————————
Johnny wakes up, hours later, in his human skin.
That’s normal - depending on his dreams, he’ll subconsciously shift between human and dog as he sleeps. It’s not odd for Johnny to wake up in completely different places after sleepwalking either, so waking up to feel his human cheek against warm furs isn’t a surprise.
The large hands running over him, the weight resting over his thighs? That’s a surprise.
He blinks his eyes open slowly. His whole body feels soft and soaked in warmth, and the idea of moving seems nearly impossible. He can tell he’s still fully clothed - a pair of mukluks on his feet, his arctic bib and long underwear, his ruff jacket zipped up tight, all the layers beneath pressing his tail down uncomfortably. The only things missing are his mittens and his scarf, but his hands feel unnaturally warm without them anyway.
The cave is dark and the walls are far closer than he remembers them being, the ceiling covered in dancing shadows that almost make Johnny forget where he is until he lifts his head a bit. Instead of the wide open cave he’d fallen asleep in, he’s laying in a much smaller alcove that traps all the heat in its walls.
The bear is definitely a shifter - either that or the human straddling Johnny’s legs is an incredible hunter with complete resistance to the cold.
The fact that he’s a naked human clicks a moment later in Johnny’s head.
“Wha’...” he moans, shifting and trying to move his elbows beneath him and sit up. He’s stopped by a sudden heavy weight over his chest, the man dropping his elbows beside Johnny’s head and giving him his weight to keep him down.
It works, Johnny’s forced back to the fur-covered floor if only because he wasn’t expecting the sudden weight on his chest. The man growls low in his chest, a pure bear sound that vibrates through Johnny.
The shifter’s handsome as a man. Broad jaw, crooked nose, thin lips, pale skin decorated in scars - just Johnny’s type when he’s looking for a night of quick fun. He’s a big motherfucker too, Johnny’s not a small man but he’s dwarfed beneath the bear.
“Puppy,” the bear gruffs down at him, severe blue eyes set in a glare. He’s intimidating, but the two fluffy white ears twitching in his blonde hair almost make Johnny’s half-asleep brain want to smile.
Then what he’d said registers, and he scowls instead.
“Puppy? Who the fuck are you calling puppy, you big bastard?” He pushes at the bear’s shoulders, grunts when he doesn’t move even an inch. “Get the fuck off of me.”
The bear listens, leans back but keeps one solid hand laid on Johnny’s chest - the damn thing is massive, his thumb and pinky nearly touching each nipple.
“Still,” he says, his voice so low it’s almost difficult to understand.
Johnny doesn’t listen, keeps squirming beneath the man. “What are you-?”
He huffs, shakes his head a bit. “Quiet.”
Johnny grunts, glaring up at him. “Can you say more than one word at once, or are you gonna keep doin’ your best caveman impression?”
The bear’s upper lip curls and he pushes on Johnny’s chest, knocking the air out right out of his chest. “Quiet. Be a good mate and listen.”
Oh, fuck no.
“Mate? Oh, you’re out of your mind, fuckin’ bastard. I’m not your goddamn ma-“
He’s cut off by another growl and a harsh press of lips against his own. The bear’s weight is back over him, heavy and suffocating and forcing him down with his chest and his face.
Johnny snarls into the mockery of a kiss, lifts his hands to try and shove the bear off by his shoulders. It’s fruitless, and the bear only licks into his mouth when Johnny tries to speak again. His tongue is thick and warm, pressing up against the roof of Johnny’s mouth and between his lips and teeth.
He growls at that, bites down hard as soon as the intruding tongue is back between his teeth. His sharp canines do the trick, and the taste of blood bursts into his mouth. Johnny’s eyes are wide open and he sees the exact moment the bear registers what he’s done, the way his face contorts itself in anger.
The growl he gets in return almost makes Johnny feel like the ground beneath him is shaking, it’s deafening and vibrates through all of his clothes and right to his ribs.
The bear bites him back in retaliation, leans up just enough to lock his own sharp teeth in Johnny’s bottom lip and pulls upwards. It gets Johnny jerking beneath him, lifting up as much as possible to try and alleviate the pressure.
He can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut at the sharp pain, ears pressed flat to his head and just barely managing to keep a whimper locked in his throat. He almost feels like his lip is going to tear right off, his entire torso lifted from the furs as he tries to follow the bear. It fucking hurts.
He can feel blood drip down his chin, a bit into his mouth, and can't resist the whine this time at the taste. He blinks his eyes open and looks up at the bear’s glare, prays that the wetness gathering in his eyes doesn’t turn to tears.
The bear drops him without warning, and Johnny can’t help but cry out when his head cracks against the ground. Even with the fur beneath him, the stone floor is brutal when he can’t catch himself. If he weren’t pinned so securely he’d curl up, cover his head with his arms until the pain faded.
As it is he tries to throw his arms over his face, but they’re quickly pinned above his head by one massive paw. The man’s other hand rests over Johnny’s throat, his palm pushing right against his pounding pulse.
“Mate,” the man growls again, nose nearly brushing Johnny’s when he bends over. “You were wandering around my territory, you belong to me.”
“That’s bullshit,” Johnny spits, lip throbbing. “I was fuckin’ lost, how was I supposed to know this is your territory?”
The bear smiles cruelly. “Not my problem, puppy. You were wandering, alone, in my territory, and now you’re mine. No point in arguin’. I’m keeping you.”
“My arse there’s no point in arguin’!” Johnny thrashes as much as he can beneath the bear’s weight, back arching as he tries to get enough leverage by planting his feet to throw the man off of him. “You can’t just decide I’m your mate! I don’t even fuckin’ know you!”
The man chuckles lowly, pressing his pelvis against Johnny’s to hold him against the furs. “You’re not goin’ anywhere. You can bitch and moan as much as you want, but you’re gonna stay right here in my den, safe and warm. Keep you stuffed full of my cum, maybe that’ll help you calm down, hm? Need a nice load in your guts, pup?”
Johnny’s eyes fly open at that, his heartbeat kicking up another notch as his squirming grows more panicked. “What the- no, what the fuck? Get off, I’m serious, I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” The bear bites the air just in front of Johnny’s sluggishly bleeding lip, the click of his teeth loud and threatening. “You’ll try and kill me? You can’t even get out from under me, pup.”
Johnny growls at that, bares his teeth and on pure instinct leans up just enough to bite the bear’s throat. The skin is warm between his teeth, and he bites down as hard as he can, the animal part of him wanting to taste blood.
Instead of the man lurching back and away, as Johnny had assumed and hoped he would, he groans and falls further onto Johnny. To his own horror, he can feel the man hardening against his thigh, even through all the layers of clothing between them.
He bites harder, growls and squeezes his eyes shut while he shakes his head like he would to a rabbit he’d just caught hunting. It doesn’t do anything to the bear, only has him working his hips against Johnny. The moans rumble so loudly in his throat that Johnny’s teeth feel like they’re vibrating in his mouth and leave his gums and tongue tingling.
The bear’s hand moves from his throat up to his face, cupping one cheek in his palm. His hand is so large that his thumb rests on the cleft of Johnny’s chin while his fingers cup the back of his skull, nearly wrapping around to the other side. He doesn’t even try to pull Johnny off, only holds him securely in place.
That gets a little confused noise from Johnny, and when the larger man doesn’t do anything but seemingly appreciate his attack he lets go and reverts to trying to struggle away. The spot he’d been biting glows bright red in the firelight, a clear ring of indentions and individual teeth marks so deep that they’d be impossible to mistake as anything else.
To his own frustration, the bear looks pleased above him. “Already claimin’ me, huh?”
Johnny sputters, rearing away from the man and his grinding hips. “Claiming? Fucking attacking, you goddamn oaf.”
Another rumbling laugh. “You think that’s an attack?” The bear’s hand shifts to give Johnny’s cheek a condescending pat. “That’s real cute, pup. Don’t think I’ll mind so much if you wanna keep attackin’ me, then.”
The nonchalance has Johnny’s temper flaring more than it already was, his booted feet scrabbling against the furs as he tries to rip his wrists away from the man. “You fucking arsehole-!” He grunts when his hands are freed without warning, the weight over his chest disappearing.
He’s quick to throw himself back and away from the bear, hitting the wall of the cave and bringing his knees up to his chest.
The bear somehow looks bigger than he had hovering over Johnny. He blocks the one opening out of the small cave, the roaring fire casting a warm glow around his body. His skin is pale, nearly snow white, and covered in a myriad of scars - claw marks, bites, what might be arrow wounds, what are definitely bullet wounds, all sorts of markings covering him from head to toe.
The way he sits - knelt back on his ankles, knees spread wide with his arms crossed - leaves his cock on display. Hard as Johnny might try not to look, it’s right there. He can’t exactly avoid it.
His cock is thick and ruddy, rock hard despite the little stimulation he’s gotten from himself or Johnny. It curves straight up toward his stomach, nearly touching the bear’s belly button. If Johnny had to bet, he’d guess his fingers wouldn’t touch if he grabbed around the shaft. His balls hang low and heavy between his legs, and Johnny can trace a vein on the underside of his shaft even from several feet away.
He has to fight to tear his eyes away from the bear’s lower half. The man’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’s getting that weapon anywhere near any of Johnny’s holes.
The bear’s wearing a small smirk when they lock eyes and Johnny’s cheeks go red at being caught staring.
“No need to be embarrassed, puppy,” he chuckles, shifting to rest more fully on his heels. “You can look all you want. Gonna be inside you real soon, might as well get used to it.”
Johnny scowls at that, pushing himself further into the brick wall. His ears twitch where they’re pointed forward, and he has to make a conscious effort to keep them from pinning flat to his scalp. “In your goddamn dreams. You’re not putting anythin’ inside of me.”
The man’s smirk grows. “That a challenge?”
“It’s fucking true! I’m not letting some hermit in the middle of nowhere fuck me! We’re not goddamn mates, you’re just some freak who found me in the forest after the worst goddamned day of my life, that doesn’t give you any right to-”
“Alright,” the bear sighs heavily, speaking over Johnny’s continued ranting. “Don’t get yourself so worked up.” He leans forward, arms uncrossing and ignoring the way Johnny jerks away.
“What’re you-? Hey!” He shouts when the bear grabs his ankle, tugging firmly so his leg is laid flat, then working to loosen the laces keeping his boots tight. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
He tries to kick the bear in the chest with his free foot, but it’s batted away like nothing more than an annoying fly. “Calm down,” the man grunts, finally getting the first boot undone and tossing both it and his thermal socks over his shoulder, then grabbing Johnny’s other foot and working on it. “Need to get you out of all these damn layers. Has it even occurred to you you shouldn’t be out in the snow if you need all this with you?” He looks strangely disapproving as he gets the other boot off.
“No,” Johnny grunts, wriggling like a fish on a line as the man moves up to his jacket. “Because I don’t take advice from fucking kidnappers who live in caves!”
The man grunts as he starts unzipping Johnny’s jacket, ignoring the hands desperately trying to shove him off. “You will now. You’ll listen to your mate when he tells you to do something, won’t you?”
“No!” Johnny bellows, red in the face from anger. The laugh he gets in response only has him shouting again, his struggles hindered as the man yanks his jacket off and temporarily gets his arms stuck. “I’m not gonna listen to shit you say!”
“Oh, you will,” the bear rumbles. It sounds more like a promise than a threat. “You’ll learn that things will go easier for you when you listen.”
“Oh will they?” Johnny snarls sarcastically, baring his teeth when the man tucks his jacket to the side and starts to work on his arctic bib.
“Yes.”
“No! They won’t! Because I’m not fucking staying here! And will you quit trying to get me fucking naked?!”
The bear huffs a laugh, pulling the top half of the bib down so it hangs over his thick pants, leaving just a long-sleeved shirt on his torso. His tail unfurls beneath the shirt, folded uncomfortably beneath his body. “You’ll overheat in all these layers. The den is more than warm enough to keep you comfortable, no need for your silly human clothes.”
“There is a need!” Johnny grouses, finally lifting his foot enough to plant it firmly on the bear’s chest and keep him back, even for just a moment. “It’s my need to keep myself covered from a pervert like you!”
“Pervert, freak, hermit, kidnapper… not very kind names for your mate, pup,” the bear hums, one hand lifting to hold Johnny’s ankle loosely and running his thumb over the top of his foot. “The locals call me Ghost. But you can call me Simon.”
Johnny scowls again, the expression carved deep into his face at this point. “I’ll call you whatever I fuckin’ want.” He runs through his knowledge of local legends mentally, but the name Ghost doesn’t ring a single bell. If he’s actually known at all, it can’t be by much more than one or two tiny towns.
“Sure you will,” the man smiles, leans forward into Johnny’s space and tightens his grip on his ankle. “I’ll call you whatever I want, too - mate, puppy, mutt, bitch, hole, fucktoy…”
Johnny’s sure steam must be coming out of his ears as he pulls his leg back and kicks the bear - Simon - solidly in the chest. It doesn’t even make him flinch, and Johnny only manages to frustrate himself more, ears straight up in his anger. “Oi, fuck you! I’m a fucking person, not just some thing for you to take and keep, you big bastard!”
“Take and keep and fuck,” Simon corrects, the grin on his face sharp and mean. He shoves Johnny’s foot out of the way, crawls forward until he can lean both hands on either side of Johnny’s head and block his view of anything else. “Now, what should I call you, hm?”
“Nothin’,” Johnny growls, ducking his head low to avoid being nose-to-nose with the man. He’s so hot in close proximity like this, it’s almost suffocating. “You should let me go.”
“Let you go?” Ghost purrs, one hand moving from the wall to Johnny’s neck and stroking the tan skin there. “Out in the cold again? Thought you were lost, pup, you want me to send you out there all alone to find your way back to town? Send my puppy wandering out in the snow?”
“You could give me directions to the nearest town,” Johnny counters, not allowing himself to work up any hope that the bear was doing anything more than playing with him. Still, he can’t help but glance up through his lashes to watch his expression. It’s mocking, like he’d expected but naively hoped against. He curses himself for the spark of disappointment in his chest.
“Nearest town’s miles away. I’m not makin’ that trip just to get rid of my pretty new mate.” Ghost ducks his head down, burying his nose in Johnny’s mohawk in between his ears and breathing deeply. “No, I’m gonna keep you right here with me. You’ll be just fine.”
Johnny can’t help but shudder. In this position - bent in half, legs folded up to his chest, big naked behemoth of a man covering him - he feels oddly submissive and vulnerable in a way he usually doesn’t. It’s been a while since he wasn’t one of the top dogs in a pack, and he finds he deeply dislikes being lower on the totem pole. He has to fight the urge to tuck his tail, only really managing to resist the urge because it’s trapped beneath his body.
“You don’t even know me,” he tries to argue, fighting back a flinch when the face against his head moves down to his cheek, hot breath gusting over his face.
“That can come later. Why don’t you start by telling me your name, huh pup?”
He doesn’t want to. Giving Simon his name, obeying his command, feels too much like giving in for his comfort. But the other names he’d used… mutt, bitch, fucktoy… he has to fight back another shudder at the thought of being called any of those words again.
“Johnny,” he finally says, voice hardly more than a whisper in the shadowy cave.
“Johnny,” the bear repeats, voice dropping lower and rumbling through the side of Johnny’s head. “That’s good, puppy. Good boy for listenin’.”
He just barely manages to trap a whine in his throat, eyes squeezing shut for a moment at the praise.
“Now,” Simon continues, finally leaning back and nudging Johnny’s chin up with the hand not against the cave wall. “Let’s get the rest of these clothes off, hm?”
“No,” Johnny grunts when both of Ghost’s hands drop to the laces of his pants and make quick work of loosening them. “I don’t- stop, you can’t-”
His words go ignored and his thick pants are pulled down quickly, left abandoned to Simon’s side as he then starts on pulling the arctic bib the rest of the way.
The only things left to cover him now are the long underwear and shirt, but he already feels naked. Johnny forces himself to start fighting again, trying to push at Ghost’s shoulders and keep him away. His tail wraps tight around his thigh, fur rising in fear.
“No,” Ghost scolds, catching both of Johnny’s hands in his and holding them still. His glare is stern, but not mean like it had been earlier. “Stop struggling, pup. Let your mate do what he wants.”
“No,” Johnny protests, his voice weaker than it was before. “I don’t want you to touch me, just… just let me be, okay? I’ll find my way to town on my own, you don’t even have to give me directions!”
Ghost sighs, shifting both of Johnny’s wrists to one hand and cupping his throat with the other. “Johnny,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over his pounding heartbeat. “How many times do I have to say it? There’s no point in fightin’ me like this. You’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna stay in my den, let me fuck you, and I’ll take good care of you.”
Johnny can’t help but whine a little, unable to break eye contact with Simon. “I don’t want to.”
“I know,” Ghost hums. “But you will. And you’ll see how good it can be when you behave.”
He lifts his hand enough to pat Johnny’s cheek, seemingly done with the conversation. “Now, no more arguin’ and whinin’. We’ll see if a good dicking helps with your attitude at all, hm?”
Johnny’s never felt quite so much like a doll as he does when Simon removes the rest of his clothes. No matter how much he writhes and complains, he’s still stripped naked and left bare beneath the shifter, struggling limbs held out of the way like they’re nothing more than a slight annoyance.
Ghost hums as he sits back again, takes a long look down Johnny’s body. He tries to cover his groin, self-conscious under the bear’s probing stare, but his hands are caught and held to the side of his body by just one massive paw.
“No, no,” Ghost chides, tone light despite how secure his hold is. “I wanna see your pretty body, pup. You got nothin’ to hide from me.”
Johnny whines a little at that, squirming as Simon slowly pushes him down to lay flat against the furs. The bear slides one knee between his legs, nudging them wider and leaving his sensitive core open to the air.
“Oh, look’it you,” he coos like he’s seeing something cute, keeping Johnny’s hands pinned as he leans down and noses at Johnny’s stomach, taking big huffing breaths in and slowly making his way lower. “You’re so soft here, pup.” He praises, running his nose over the meat of Johnny’s cunt.
“S-stop,” Johnny whines, hips shifting against the furs to try and move away. “Don’t- don’t touch me.”
“Hush,” Ghost says, leaving a hot kiss where he’d been nosing and ducking a little lower, tracing Johnny’s folds with his nose and breathing in deep. “Let me get to know your pretty pussy, gonna be spendin’ quite a bit of time with her.”
Johnny whines at that, high and loud, echoing against the stone walls. “Not a- not a her.”
“No?” Ghost laughs a little, spreading Johnny’s legs wider and settling himself between them. “She’s pretty like a girl. Pink like a girl. Nice and clean for me like a girl, not furry or messy at all. Let’s see how she tastes.” He laves his tongue, thick and warm and wet, up Johnny’s center from hole to clit. “Yeah, she’s sweet like a girl, too.”
Johnny whines again at that, eyes squeezed shut and a little teary. He can feel sparks of pleasure low in his belly, sharp and unwanted. “Please,” he tries, incapable of much else when Ghost licks a few times at his clit.
“Hm?” The bear rumbles, the noise vibrating through his sensitive nub and straight to his head. Johnny whimpers again. “Please what, pup? Please lick her again? Y’think she wants that?”
He does just that, mimics his movement exactly and adds to the gathering wetness at Johnny’s hole. As much as he fights it, the action feels good and Johnny goes a little boneless against the furs. He keeps his eyes closed, isn’t quite brave enough to look down at Ghost between his legs. His tail falls limp, resting next to him, but his ears stay pinned to his head in fear.
“Y’like that?” Simon rumbles, his thumb stroking over both of Johnny’s wrists slowly. “She sure does. Gonna focus on keeping her happy for a bit, I’ll come back to you later, alright pup?”
He doesn’t wait for Johnny to answer - he doubts he’d have been able to - and instead dives tongue-first into Johnny’s core. It doesn’t take long for Ghost to warm him up, the rhythmic work of his tongue against Johnny’s little cock enough to have him dripping slick in moments.
He moves a little lower to tongue at Johnny’s hole, thrusts shallowly in and out and scoops any slick he can into his own mouth. Johnny’s reduced to just a moaning thing beneath him, hips writhing as his body and mind war between the urge to get closer and further at the same time. Ghost’s nose rubs right against his clit when he works at Johnny’s hole, and the dual stimulation leaves him slack-jawed and moaning.
Ghost’s free hand creeps from his thigh up to his cunt slowly, so slowly that Johnny hardly realizes it’s moving at all until there’s a finger right at his hole. He can’t help but jolt when the finger presses in, the sudden feeling only heightening his arousal. It’s an unexpected stretch - just one of Simon’s fingers is at least as thick as two of Johnny’s.
“Need somethin’ to clench on,” Ghost mumbles, almost to himself more than to Johnny.
Or, it hits him a moment later, not to Johnny at all. Just to his cunt.
He nearly wails at the realization, the mix of humiliation and the feeling of that finger curling inside of him a cocktail of sensations that has him inching closer and closer to an orgasm.
“There ya go,” Simon soothes, giving his clit languid strokes with his tongue. “We’ll get you off once, then work on stuffin’ you full of me. Attagirl.”
Tears slip down Johnny’s face as another finger slides in, the stretch not quite painful but definitely noticeable. His hips grind down on the intrusion against his own will, the constant flicks against his clit crossing every wire in his brain. His eyes stay closed, the dark a comfort when he feels so untethered.
“Let's find your sweet spot,” Ghost murmurs quietly, his fingers crooking and searching inside of Johnny. The burn of the stretch leaves him mewling, toes curling against the furs. Ghost hums, gives his clit a few sucks to quiet him down a bit, reducing him to just pants.
Then, without warning, Simon’s fingers zero in on Johnny’s g-spot and press.
His back arches automatically, a loud cry tearing from his throat when Ghost only presses harder at his reaction, giving the bundle of nerves heavy rubs and milking Johnny’s pleasure. He wraps his lips around his clit, sucking hard and long.
“There she is,” he rumbles around the nub. His voice vibrates through Johnny, sending him reeling.
“Oh, oh, please- please, please, please, fuck, that’s- oh God-” Johnny babbles, body tense and pleasure ridden as every part of him fights to get away from the overwhelming sensation. Ghost’s fingers don’t let up, the pressure more than Johnny’s ever felt before, and he flicks his tongue over the clit locked between his lips. He’s never felt pleasure like this, has no defenses against the way it ravages his body.
“Fuck- fuck! Simon, please, oh, oh G-God, oh, fuck, fuck…. Please!” Johnny shouts, eyes flying open to stare at the stone ceiling as he’s finally thrown off the precipice he’d been hovering over, pleasure wracking every limb and racing through every nerve. He moans loud enough to echo as his body slowly goes limp against the furs, muscles weak like all of his strength has drained from his cunt.
The pressure against his g-spot slowly eases as Ghost slips his fingers out of him, his lips releasing his clit. The bear sits up and releases his wrists, letting both of his own hands rest against Johnny’s thighs and giving him a few squeezes.
Johnny blinks bleary eyes open, drawn to the bear’s face against his will. The man looks nothing but smug, chin soaked and eyes bright.
“Hey, Johnny,” he breathes, leaning down and moving his hands to rest on either side of Johnny’s head. He hovers right above him, breath ghosting over his face in warm puffs. “That feel good, comin’ for me?”
Johnny makes a little complaining sound, not quite capable of speech yet. His ears flick out to the side, reflecting the weird mix of displeasure and satisfaction he feels.
“Aw,” Ghost clicks his tongue, dips just low enough to press a closed-mouth kiss to Johnny’s lips, unbothered when it’s unreciprocated. “Yeah, I know it did. You taste real sweet, love. Gonna have you for dessert every night.”
Johnny huffs at that, the reference to a future together dragging his brain back down to his body. He doesn’t have a chance to get himself worked up as Ghost keeps pressing kisses to his lips. He shifts a bit every few kisses, decorating his cheeks and chin too. His lips brush nearly every inch of Johnny’s face, leaving him blushing and a little soft.
This- this isn’t so bad. Johnny doesn’t mind the kisses, the warmth and the pleasure. But the idea of Ghost trying to sheath that cock inside of him… just the thought has him whimpering a little, eyebrows furrowing.
“What?” Ghost whispers, lifting himself just enough to meet Johnny’s eyes, bumping their noses together. “What’s got you cryin’ now?”
Johnny inhales deeply, doesn’t feel any better when it shudders into his lungs and whooshes right back out.
“Please,” he tries, voice quiet between the two of them. “Please don’t fuck me.”
Ghost sucks his teeth, his face a horrible mix between smug and condescending. “Aw, puppy,” he shifts his weight, one hand moving to stroke his cheek. He doesn’t do much actual stroking, considering how large his hand is compared to Johnny’s face. “‘Course I’m gonna fuck you. It’s what good mates do, hm? Gotta give you a few cubs.”
Johnny whimpers at that, a little pained sound at the image that conjures.
“No?” Ghost coos, tapping once with his thumb. “You want a litter of pups, then?”
Johnny’s voice cracks on a sob, a horrible hurt sound punching from his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut against the humiliation, turning his head to the side and pressing his face into the furs.
“Aw, pup,” the bear whispers, nose nudging at the cheek available to him. “You’re alright, you’re alright. You’ll like it, promise. I’m not gonna hurt ya, you’ll be taken care of here. Gonna make such a good daddy, I don’t even care if they come out as silly little mutts like you.”
It’s a conscious effort to breathe. His chest hitches on every inhale, and his nose is blocked up from all the crying. His throat burns. He can hardly think.
“Needed a mate for a while now,” Ghost continues, speaking into Johnny’s skin. He alters between kissing and licking, but never leaves more than an inch of space between his lips and Johnny’s head. “Knew it, but there’s no one around any good to raise my cubs. But I think you’ll do well, won’t you?”
“No,” Johnny finally says, voice weak. “No, no, I don’t want… you can’t.”
“You’ll look even prettier,” Ghost continues, heedless of Johnny’s whine. “Round with me and mine, soft and perfect for me. Maybe these will swell up a little.” His hand strays to Johnny’s flat chest, fingers working at his nipple. Little pinches and pulls, a bit of pain that still manages to feel good.
“Stop,” Johnny tries again, tears slipping down his nose again. Every exhale is shaky, a little whimper in his breaths.
“I’ll provide for you, don’t worry.” His fingers massage Johnny’s pec, like he’s trying to coax something out of the nipple. “Take such good care of my mate. Get him whatever he wants, never let him leave…” Ghost’s voice dips so low that it’s near incoherent as he licks broad stripes up the side of Johnny’s face between sentences, words almost slurred. “You’ll be perfect.”
Johnny can’t hold back the sobs anymore, one ripping from his throat against his will and unblocking the dam he’d built in his head. He’s left nearly bawling into the furs, body tense as a bowstring, eyes stinging, ears flat and tail tucked. He can’t even begin to imagine how pathetic he looks.
“Oh, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, a little bit of clarity reentering his voice. “Alright, sweetheart, deep breaths. I think you need a fucking, hm?”
“No-ooo.”
“Hush, you’re alright, A nice cock in your cunt will make you feel better, I promise. Just need to give you what you deserve. On your stomach for me now.”
He’s already halfway there, it doesn’t take much work for Ghost to flip him entirely. He hefts Johnny’s hips up like he’s a doll, settling him so his knees are spread wide but his weight is left on his chest and face, pressed into the furs. He ends up with his face buried in his folded arms, tears dripping down to the floors
“Hips up, puppy, c’mon. Present for me.”
Johnny doesn’t listen but that doesn’t deter Simon from pushing on the small of his back, forcing his hips higher into the air and leaving his holes displayed. Ghost tsks at the way Johnny’s tail is tucked, blocking all of his vulnerable spots.
“No hiding, now,” he chides, tugging his tail out of the way just roughly enough to make him yelp. Simon holds it by the base, keeps him from tucking it again immediately with a firm grip. “There we go, look how pretty,” Ghost hums, stroking his free hand fully down the split of Johnny’s body, spreading his slick. “Nice and soaked for me.”
“Not-” Johnny hiccups, trying to take a deep breath. “Not my fault.”
There’s a laugh behind him, loud in the small alcove and just patronizing enough to make Johnny’s heart sink even further. “No? I think it is, pup. Who else’s fault would it be?”
“You. Can’t-can’t help it when you keep touchin’ me.”
He knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as Ghost rumbles a low, pleased sound. “Can’t help it? Can’t help that you’re so needy, such a slut for my touch?”
Johnny whines, tail flicking nervously in the air.
“Oh, you’re sweet, pup. Real sweet. Your puppycunt just can’t help getting wet for her mate, yeah? She knows who she belongs to, knows ‘m gonna take real good care of her.”
Johnny bites his lip to hold back the whine, his sharp canine digging into the cut Simon left and reopening it. He focuses on the drops of blood dripping to the furs, tries not to think about what Ghost is saying, but it burrows deep into his head. He can feel his cunt twitching, clenching around nothing.
“Don’t worry, I won’t make you suffer much longer - what kinda mate would I be if I left you empty when you’re dripping for it? I’ll take care of you, pup, just relax.”
As much as Johnny hates everything that’s happening, hates everything that’s brought him to this moment, he can’t help but feel the tiniest bit grateful when Ghost slips two fingers into him instead of his cock. He’s still not sure he’ll be able to take it, but if Ghost is going to make him… he’s at least glad for the stretch.
Simon rubs one hand over the curve of his ass while the other scissors two fingers inside of him, his goal to stretch instead of getting Johnny off. It doesn’t make much of a difference for him, he still can’t help but rock his hips against the bear’s hand, unable to resist more of the heady pleasure.
Ghost laughs over his shoulder. “Need it that bad, huh? Be patient, Johnny. Just gotta wait a little longer.”
He whines into his arms, eyes squeezed shut. Even he’s not sure if he’s whining for more or less, but he can’t let himself think about it. He unintentionally sinks into a deeper arch, leaning more weight on his knees and spreading his cunt further, baring himself more for Ghost.
“Good boy. Just relax for me, I’ve got you, pup.”
He slips a third finger in and Johnny tries to breathe through the stretch, just barely managing to keep from moaning. The tang of blood on his tongue is a good distraction, but not enough to keep him from panting like he’s run a marathon. He can’t help it, Ghost’s fingers feel good in a way no one else ever has. He can’t imagine what his cock will feel like, barely managing to hold back a shiver at the thought.
Eventually, Ghost pulls his fingers out of Johnny. There’s an almost obnoxiously loud sucking sound, and a pleased rumble from Ghost as his free hand moves to stroke the base of Johnny’s tail softly, leaving him squirming.
“Taste so good, pup. Can’t believe I got so lucky with you.”
Johnny whimpers, shifting his weight from side to side to try and ease the slight ache in his knees. It doesn’t occur to him until he hears Simon moan that he’s literally waving his holes in front of the man’s face.
“Hungry fuckin’ bitch,” Ghost nearly snarls, voice pitching lower. “Need cock so bad, don’t you? Need your puppycunt filled? Huh?”
He lands a heavy slap on Johnny's backside and he can’t help but cry out at the sudden flare of pain, the sting quickly fading into a burning that travels right to his clit. He whines, lifting his head just enough to glare over his shoulder.
Simon looks nearly as wrecked as Johnny feels - his cheeks are flushed and his chest heaves, panting breaths audible in the otherwise silent cave. He’s got a hunger in his eyes that makes Johnny shiver, makes his tail twitch to tuck between his legs again.
“Nuh-uh,” Ghost scolds, gripping the appendage and yanking with just enough force to make Johnny yelp. He instinctually claws at the furs, lifting himself up to try and pull away from the sharp pain at the base of his spine. “What did I say about hiding, huh? Can’t fuck you if you’re tuckin’ your tail, pup.”
“That’s- that’s why-” Johnny tries to argue, teeth gritted, but he’s cut-off by a series of blows, forcing him further into the furs to try and escape the blooming pain. He makes a humiliating sound somewhere between a snarl of rage and a whine of pain, eyes flying wide open.
“That’s why what?” Ghost growls, landing a smack across the center of his ass, nearly clipping his soaked folds. “That’s why you’re doin’ it? Then why are you moanin’ like a whore, huh? Your hole’s dripping, Johnny, you’re gonna stain my furs and you want me to think you don’t want it?”
Johnny can’t speak, can only make choked, pained sounds as Simon continues his barrage. His hand is so big compared to Johnny, he covers nearly his entire ass on every spank. Johnny wants to roll over, wants to tuck his tail and show his stomach, but he knows that would only make everything worse.
“I’ve been real lenient with you, let you sit there doin’ nothing but bitchin’ and moanin’, but my patience isn’t endless, Johnny.” Simon grips his flaming cheek, digging his nails into the irritated skin and drawing a high whine from the smaller man. “All you have to do is lay still and let me fuck a little into you, and you can’t even do that right?” He scoffs, lands another blow against the meat of Johnny’s ass.
“I’m-” Johnny gasps, burying his face into the furs. “I can’t- fuck, stop!”
“Why should I? You’re still soaked, mutt. Doesn’t seem to matter much to your cunt if I’m wailin’ on you or pettin’ you. This what you need to start being sweet for me? Huh?” He reddens Johnny’s ass on nearly every word, leaving him wiggling in place and trying to crawl away. The hand anchored around the base of his tail is the only thing keeping him within arms reach, and the sharp pain leaves tears leaking down Johnny’s cheeks. “Need me to be mean for you to learn your manners, is that it?”
“No-no!” Johnny manages to get out between whines. He tries to breathe through the pain, but Simon layers his smacks in just the right spot to hit a tender area on every impact, and the effect leaves Johnny wanting to scream.
“Then where are they, huh? I’ve been good to you - stretched you out, ate your little cunt, even got you off. Didn’t get any thanks, did I?”
His palm shifts lower, focusing on the crease where Johnny’s thighs meet his ass. Simon’s fingers clip his folds on nearly every smack, leaving Johnny jolting around to try and get away and yelping at the pain.
It takes him a minute to get what Ghost’s asking for, but once he understands he doesn’t hesitate to give it. He can’t even bring himself to care about the humiliation of it all, only wants the pain to stop.
“Th-thank you!” He nearly shouts, eyes squeezed shut against the pain, ears pressed so tight to his skull that they nearly ache. “I’m sorry, so sorry, I just- fuck, please! Thank-thank you, thank you!”
“There you go,” Ghost rumbles, his hand immediately switching from smacking to rubbing across the whole of Johnny’s backside, shushing his whine. “Was that so hard?”
Johnny keens loudly, shoulders shaking as he tries to hold back his sobs.
“We’ll make a good boy out of you yet. C’mon now, back up on your knees.” Ghost slips a hand between his thighs, pushing Johnny’s stomach up and simultaneously tugging on his tail to urge him back into his position. He goes with minimal struggling, far too raw to fight anymore, left only with the instinct to avoid anything that could get him in more trouble with the bear
“There you go, attaboy,” Ghost praises, finally releasing Johnny’s tail and laying it across his back. “Bein’ good for me now, huh? Thought you mighta had a little more fight in you, Johnny.”
There’s a part of him that growls at that, that snarls and bites and proves that he does have more fight, that he’s not easy prey. But the larger part recognizes a stronger predator when it sees one, and urges Johnny to listen. That’s the voice that wins out, and he whines when Ghost laughs.
“Still wet for me, huh? Such a good mate, Johnny. Gonna give you a reward for learning, alright? Hush, pup, don’t whine. It’ll be good, I promise.”
Johnny sniffles, rubbing his nose into the furs beneath him. He whimpers when he feels something hot press against his hole, knows that it can only be Ghost’s cock.
“Be good,” Ghost says, then slowly begins to force his way inside.
Johnny feels like he’s being broken, like he’s being cleaved down the middle. He moans lowly, more pain than pleasure now as the stretch begins to hurt. He wants to crawl away, wants to dig his claws into fur and stone until he escapes the incessant push of Simon inside of him.
The bear moans loudly behind him, voice echoing through the cave as his head pops fully inside. “Fuck.”
More tears slip down Johnny’s cheeks. The push is endless, a constant pressure against his hole, the cock pushing into parts of him nothing’s ever touched. He throbs with need, his clit almost burning from neglect. He just barely manages to keep himself from reaching down, some last part of him clinging to what little dignity he has left.
“T-tight,” Ghost grunts, hips bucking forward with just enough force to make Johnny shout and push up from the furs at the shock of pain. “Fuck, you’re fine pup, get back down.”
Johnny whines at the command, but obeys when a heavy hand lands between his shoulder blades.
“There you go, good boy. Just… fuck, squeezing me so tight. Just let me fuck you, alright? I’ll get you off too, just gotta… just gotta be patient f’r me.”
Johnny’s hardly able to understand what Simon is saying, most of the words fluttering in one ear and out the other. He’s too focused on the invasion of his body, the internal betrayal as he only grows more wet between the thighs. He can feel himself fluttering around Ghost, both of them moaning every time he clenches down on the thick shaft against his will.
Finally, mercifully, Simon bottoms out. His balls are hard against Johnny’s cock, but they feel perfect when Ghost grinds himself deep, the head of his cock nudging Johnny’s cervix. He yelps at the first hint of pain, jerking in the furs.
“Shh, shh…” Ghost soothes, stroking down Johnny’s spine in long, slow motions. “You’re alright, deep breaths, pup. I know, it’s a lot of cock for a little thing like you isn’t it?”
Johnny whimpers, nodding into the furs.
“Yeah, you’re… fuck, clench like that again, pup, God… you’re so little, huh? Tiny puppycunt hardly big enough for me, that right?”
He pulls his hips back just enough to shove in again, sending Johnny forward a few inches and drawing a high yelp at the sharp spark of pain.
“Shit, how’re you so tight?’ Simon pants, one hand gripping Johnny’s hip hard enough to nearly grind bone. “You clenchin’ down on me cause it hurts? Do I need to hit you some more to keep you tight for me, puppy?”
Johnny shakes his head as best he can, just barely managing to choke out a “N-no!” as Ghost starts to find a slow rhythm, rocking in and out of his body.
He hums, like he doesn’t quite believe Johnny, but he gives him a warm and solid squeeze to the nape of his neck, and he doesn’t hit him again. Johnny tries to breathe a sigh of relief, but he chokes on it as Ghost bottoms out again.
It doesn’t get any easier to bear. Johnny can never fully catch his breath, not if Ghost is pulling out to just the tip and thrusting back in on one fast plunge, and not if he’s just grinding himself right against Johnny’s cervix. It’s like he’s lost control of his lungs like his heart - both erratic, both making him feel like a struggling prey animal, even as he’s limp beneath Simon.
The bear is all but silent, for all of his horrible words before. Johnny would call it a mercy, but the way his fat cock bullies endlessly into his cunt could never be merciful, even in the near-silence. Johnny’s sure Simon doesn’t even know how to be merciful, not with the way he speaks, the way he takes.
Johnny can’t bring himself to be silent, though. He hates it, but the sounds are forced out of him on every thrust. Horrible, cock hungry moans, whorish whines, yipping noises that sound like they’re coming from the wrong form. His face flames, tears streaking down his cheeks, but he can’t hold anything in.
He feels unspooled beneath Ghost. Like the man had taken one look at him, found all his loose strings, and just plucked and pulled until he came completely undone. Johnny would hate him if it didn’t feel so good, but his mind works against him when it’s so overloaded.
With a hand clamped on Johnny’s nape and the other on his hip, Simon fucks him with a vigor that feels impossible - impossible to bear, and impossible to keep up with. His own drool smears against his cheek when it’s pressed into the furs, unable to do anything but take what Ghost gives.
Simon eventually finds a rhythm that allows him to pull nearly completely out and bury himself back to the hilt on every thrust, leaning what has to be most of his body weight against Johnny’s nape to keep himself at the right angle to nudge his cervix again and again.
It hurts - the stretch, the drag of his cock against slick walls, the sharp shocks on every thrust - but the pain only makes it better. Johnny can’t help but moan, humping the air in his best attempt to push Ghost for more.
“So good, puppy,” he moans, pace quickening. The slap-slap-slap of skin is audible, Johnny’s wetness only making everything sound more crass. “So tiny for me, squeezin’ around your mate’s cock so good… gonna make you feel so good, give you a reward for keepin’ yourself tight.”
Johnny’s whine is high, needy, and a distant part of him hates it but the present part is too wrapped up in the promise of feeling good to care.
“My good, tight girl. Didn’t let anyone else fuck you, huh? You a virgin, baby?”
He’s not - far from it, actually - but Ghost doesn’t answer and moans at whatever image he’s conjured in his head.
“Stay… oh fuck, stayed fresh for me? Didn’t let any other men make your cunt loose, did’ya? No, no,” he’s panting, his pace so quick, so hard, that Johnny would almost be convinced he was using a toy if not for his audible exertion. “No, my girl stayed nice and tight for me. She doesn’t have a sloppy cunt, not my mate.”
Johnny sobs at the shift of pronouns, the feminization. He feels something rise in him, a heat that comes from deep inside and feels like it might burn him up entirely. Johnny hopes it does, hopes it consumes him for long enough to forget what’s happening, what’s happened.
“She’s gonna…” he trails off into a snarl, biting roughly at Johnny’s shoulder before pulling back at his shout. “She’s gonna carry my cubs, take such good care of them. Keep my cum warm, then keep my babies warm… so good, gonna be so… fuck, puppy, I can’t… you’re too fucking good, can’t…” he huffs, trailing off into pure animal noises, growls and snarls the vibrate through Johnny’s spine.
Simon shifts a little on his knees, making his cock drive further up into Johnny’s channel and drawing a moan that sounds more like a scream from him. After that, it’s hardly any time at all before he’s coming.
Ghost’s orgasm is loud, something uninhibited and almost proud in the sounds he makes. Johnny can feel the hot cum spurting inside of him, feel it covering his insides. The few final erratic thrusts he gets are just enough for him to reach the peak too, that fire finally coming up to coat every limb, every nerve of his body. His ears fold over, flopping to the front of his head, and his tail falls limp to the side of his body.
He sinks into it eagerly, desperate to drown his brain in everything good to try and block out the bad. It works, and he’s left feeling like nothing but a brainless toy as Ghost shudders through the final vestiges of his own orgasm. Johnny lays boneless, riding the waves of euphoria and milking Simon’s cock slowly, trying to draw every drop of pleasure from the bear he can, trying to keep himself in this moment.
But it has to end, and Ghost’s breathing slowly evens out as he softens inside of Johnny. He can’t tell if it’s his own wetness or Simon’s come dripping from his hole, and he can’t work up the energy to care either.
“That was perfect, Johnny,” Ghost praises, his hand trembling just the slightest bit as he shifts from holding the smaller man down to stroking his spine again. “You were perfect, so good for me. My good boy. My pretty mate.”
Johnny whines, but even he can’t tell what the sound is supposed to mean. Later he’ll insist it was upset, displeasure but it sounds more like appreciation.
“You tired, puppy?”
He nods as best he can, unintentionally rubbing his face into his own spit and blood.
“Alright, you can nap. You’ve earned it, Johnny.”
Ghost tips him to the side with a soft grip on his ribs, keeping himself firmly lodged within Johnny and pulling his back to his chest. They’re left spooning, Simon’s back to then entrance of the cave and both of them pressed so tightly together than Johnny’s not sure they’ll ever be able to pull apart.
“Relax now,” Simon rumbles, one hand wrapping beneath Johnny’s head to let him use as a pillow and the other tucked around his waist, holding him close. He buries his nose in Johnny’s mohawk, and Johnny can feel his ears pressing against the bear’s cheeks. “We’ll figure everything else out later.”
Johnny shifts, wincing at the squeeze to his stomach and the weight still resting inside of him. “Can you…?”
Ghost grunts a low, disapproving sound. “No. Gotta keep you plugged up, make sure it takes.”
If he had any tears left, Johnny might cry again. But he’s drained, emotionally and physically exhausted from all the day’s trauma, and he’s got nothing left to give.
So he sinks into the heat at his back, the solid arms around him. He feels almost shell shocked, staring at the way the shadows dance across the wall with a heavy bear behind him. If it weren’t for the thick cock plugging him up, he’d almost call the scene domestic.
Eventually, the peaceful embrace of sleep welcomes him. He doesn’t try to fight it off, desperate to leave the cave if only in his subconscious mind.
Against his better knowledge, he can’t help but hope when he next opens his eyes he won’t see the cave at all. He knows it’s bad to hope, knows he’s only setting himself up for disappointment, but…
Well, if he pretends the heat surrounding him is from his blankets, that the pleasant scent in the air is his den, not the heavy smell of satisfaction, then that’s his business.
#we're pretending hypothermia isn't real because johnny would definitely have it#also sorry if the pic at the end is cringe! i don't care!#ghost x soap#soap x ghost#bo writes#john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley#john mactavish x simon riley#soap mactavish x ghost riley#ghoap smut#ghostsoap smut#cod fanfic#call of duty fanfic#ghoap#ghostsoap
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Soaps real tired of ghost teasing him in all his maid outfits🧼💀
#modern warfare 2#modern warfare#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#ghost#soap mactavish x ghost riley#ghost x soap#ghost/soap#john soap mactavish#soap#cod mw#mw2 smut#my art#my artwork#fandom#fanart
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COD P★ LINKS
Yawll……dis is horny… so like fair warning
John price
Price tying you up after he catches you disobeying him by touching yourself :(
Overstimulation with John <3
Price eating you out after a loooooong mission
More price eating pussy (the guy LITERALLY looks like him or am I tripping)
Since you like using them so much, this shouldn’t be a punishment for you, correct ?
John getting you to ride his thigh
Theres a reason why they’re his favourite
Kyle Garrick
Gaz after ruthlessly fucking you for three hours ;3
What you get for flaunting yourself in front of his mates :(
Lazy night in with gaz
Shhh don’t want anyone to hear you
Late night humping with your clingy boyfriend
Roommate! Gaz getting tired of your horny whining
Simon Riley
Just a quick reminder of where you belong
Quick polishing’
A goodbye gift
A welcome home gift
Roommate! Ghost pounding you till you wake up :(
Owner! Ghost with his lil pup
Little film for later
Gettin’ crafty
John McTavish
Riding him until he’s dumb <3
Mornin sex with Johnny boy
Self restrain
Virgin! Johnny
Just his doll
Convincing your friend, Johnny to join your live 🫣
König
Hes just too big you needed a photo for confirmation
Need your colonel to reach you a lesson?
Just a quickie before he leaves for work
Quickie part 2
Good girls beg
#okay yall lemme go to bed#call of duty#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#ghost x reader#captain price#ghost#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mactavish#konig x reader#konig#konig cod#captain john price#john price x reader#john price
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Caught in 4k
#ghostsoap#soapghost#call of duty#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#gary roach sanderson#amiko art#modern warfare ii#ghost x soap
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soap x reader x simon
soap doesn't know how to make you cum on his cock so he asks his trusted lieutenant to teach him how.
sub!reader, dom!simon, switch?soap, getting fucked by soap in simon's lap, wet&messy, cumming untouched, size difference/kink, threesome, fat dick!soap, MDNI
<3 just some horny nonsense that was spinning in my brain!!!
When Simon found out that sweet Johnny was struggling with something personal and even as embarrassing as making you cum, Simon’s mouth moved faster than his brain with an offer he never thought he would utter.
“I could help you out with that,” he had said, making Soap pause, mouth agape. Simon almost rescinded those words, brushing it off as a crude joke.
But then Soap spoke.
“Would you?” he asked, blue eyes glistening hopefully.
And Simon felt his cock twitch in his jeans.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t make you cum, Soap had defended on the drive over to your shared flat. Soap was good with his tongue and his fingers, could make you squirt by just rubbing that sweet little spot inside your gooey cunt.
The problem was whenever Johnny got his cock in you, he just could never get it right. The pace was wrong, the angle was off, he went too deep – anything that he could do wrong, he would do wrong.
“It’s never been like this with other…partners,” Soap shyly whispered. Though it was dark in the truck, Simon knew his friend was blushing in embarrassment, “I-I don’t know what I’m doin’ wrong this time.”
“Well, we’ll figure it out, Johnny,” Simon assured, shoving the door open the second Soap turned the engine off.
You and Soap lived on the top floor and the elevator ride up was stifling. Soap was fidgeting, clearly more than a little nervous about how this night was meant to go.
You and he had been together for a while – long enough to move in together. Simon wondered what finally made Soap reach out for help on this little problem after so long.
But Simon wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d wanted to get his fucking hands on you from the second you bounced into the room, radiant and so sweet in the way you shyly clung to Soap’s arm. You were precious and Simon’s not proud to admit he had gone home and tugged his cock fucking raw over the way you had batted your pretty lashes at him when you looked up at him – so much smaller than him.
He knew he would be a fucking wreck the second he had you within his grasp and fuck, he was right.
His hands were shaking as he held you in his lap, gripping your knees to keep you spread wide for Soap to slot his hips between them.
You were a sensitive little thing, Simon learned. You came so easily around Soaps fingers when he worked to stretch you open for him. If you came so easily then why the fuck couldn’t Johnny get you off from his cock?
You were trembling, wide eyes teary as you watched your boyfriend carefully work his cock into you. The stretch was always so good, always making your eyes roll back in your head. Your cunt was so slick and sticky, eagerly swallowing every inch of Soap. So fucking messy. It made Simon's mouth fill with saliva at the sight of how wet you were, he wanted to taste you so badly.
Johnnys cock was fat, thick and heavy, no doubt burning your poor little cunt with how wide he had you stretched around him. You creamed around him, juices dribbling down his balls and wetting his sweatpants. You even dripped all over Simon who held you in his lap.
When Johnny started thrusting, Simon immediately understood why you couldn't seem to cum. Sure, it felt good, and you were moaning - twitching and gasping every time Soap sunk in and brushed against any sweet little spot inside. But Soaps rhythm and pace were inconsistent and he didn't seem to have any idea how to aim his cock to really hit those gooey spots that would have you falling over the edge into bliss.
Simon took a few moments to admire the scene unfolding right in his lap. You, creaming all over a cock that couldn't make you cum. Soap desperately humping your pretty cunt haphazardly and sloppily. He wasn't even bothering to touch your clit. Beneath his mask, Simon grinned.
It was so cute how Johnny went so stupid the second he got his cock wrapped up in a tight, hot pussy.
“Johnny…” Simon finally spoke, “Slow down.”
Immediately, Soap did as he was told. His pace slowed, careful rolls of his hips replacing the jackhammering.
“There's a good boy,” Simon praised, eyes darkening at the sight of Soap’s ears turning red, “Go nice ‘nd deep You gotta hit all those nice spots inside.”
Soap’s pretty, blue eyes were half-lidded as he watched you writhe and twitch in his Lieutenant’s arms. With every deep stroke, both of them could hear the sticky, wet noises of your pussy swallowing every inch.
One of Simon’s hands trailed down your thigh, inching down and down. Soap’s eyes followed every movement until his fingers finally found your hard little clit. Immediately, your cunt clamped down around Soap’s cock and the Scot moaned.
“You gotta touch this cute little clit,” Simon teased, “If you really wanna know how it feels to have a pretty cunt cum around you.”
Soap nonsensically nodded, blunt nails digging into your hips as he held himself back from fucking you like a madman again. He kept Simon’s words in mind - deep and slow. Aim for those little spots. He knows where they are, he knows where it feels good. Just don't think with his cock - that's all he had to do.
With Simon’s callused fingers swirling over your sticky clit and Soap’s fat cock stuffing you full just right, it came as no surprise when you finally came.
Soap wasn't able to stand how good it felt with how tight you were squeezing around him, pulsing through every wave of your orgasm. You were gushing, creaming sticky and wet all over him. Simon could feel you clit twitching under the pads of his fingers.
With a shout, Soap filled you up with his load, “Fuck!”
As the two of you came down, Simon’s big hands carefully stroked up and down your thighs until their trembling ceased.
“You know, Lt,” Soap panted, looking up at him through his lashes, “I think I could use a little more hands on training. How about you really show me how it's done.”
Even though Simon had quietly came in his own pants, his cock was chubbing up again at those words.
“I like the sound of that, Seargent.”
do not modify translate, or repost to other websites. reblogs welcome!
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley smut#cod x reader#cod smut#ghost x reader#ghost smut#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish smut#soap mactavish smut#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap smut
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Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc
This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright
Price
HA! Good one!
No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around
That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart
Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)
He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress
Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...
Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off
She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions
What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻♀️)
Ghost
When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so
You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants
But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on
You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.
The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move
You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love
His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise
But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?
Soap
If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap
From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas
You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine
Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)
You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!
For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle
But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?
Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some
Gaz
By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is
Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps
There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't
You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest
And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most
But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…
He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?
You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲
#wiw asks#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john price#simon riley#john mactavish#kyle garrick#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#cod x reader#cod mw3#call of duty#modern warfare 3#female reader
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ok but
being a part of the 141 (+konig) and having to dress up in disguise for a mission in some rich, fancy casino. the boys are waiting on you, talking amongst themselves.
you walk out wearing a slim black dress, low neckline exposing the top of your cleavage. the dress is fitted to your curves and loose at the bottom to hide the pistol strapped around your thigh. you’re looking down, smoothing out your dress, you don’t notice how every head snaps up at the first sound of your heels on the hard floor.
you don’t notice the way ghost straightens up from leaning on the table, arms still crossed and mask hiding the red creeping up to his cheeks. you don’t notice the way konig shifts awkwardly on his feet, blue eyes darting up and down not knowing where to look. you don’t notice the way gaz bites his lip, almost hard enough to break through the soft flesh and draw blood. you hear soap let out an exaggerated breath, a quick “godda-“ before he’s cut off by a smack to the back of the head from price.
you whip your head up at price’s chuckle, seeing soap rubbing the back of his head. “does this look alright? you can’t see my gun, can you?” you ask turning around to show them the back of your thigh where it’s strapped tightly. you miss the way ghost bites his fist, eyes rolling to the back of his head as soap nudges his shoulder giggling like a school boy.
#call of duty#ghost cod#cod#simon ghost riley#konig#john soap mactavish#john price#simon riley x reader#konig x reader#soapghost#soap cod#task force 141#kyle gaz garrick
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how’s it goin’ there
#soapghost#ghostsoap#simon riley x john mactavish#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#call of duty#cod#😳☺️
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Government name vs Military callsign
Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?
Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 0.9k
Warnings: none
John Price
Government name.
Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.
“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”
Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.
“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”
“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”
He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.
“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”
When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.
Simon Riley
Military callsign.
When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.
“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”
“Fuck you callin’ me that for?”
Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.
“We playin’ games now?”
You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.
“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”
Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips.
A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.
Kyle Garrick
Government name.
He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.
“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”
Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.
If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?
“Kyle Ga-”
“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”
You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”
He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”
“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”
He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room.
“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.
John MacTavish
Military callsign.
He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.
Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.
“SOAP!”
Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.
“JOHNNY!”
“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.
“C’mere, c’mere.”
He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”
You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”
He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”
“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”
“You called me Soap.”
“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”
Posted: 2023 Dec 10
#cod x reader#cod fluff#john price x reader#john price fluff#captain john price fluff#captain price x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley fluff#ghost x reader#ghost fluff#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick fluff#gaz x reader#gaz x fluff#soap x reader#soap fluff#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish fluff#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish fluff#cod mw2 x reader#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 fluff#cod mw2 fluff
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52% of you voted for this and I respect democracy 🫡
8.4k of ghost brainwashing soap into being his puppy without him knowing. it’s a little messy and all over the place <3
cw: explicit sex, heavy puppy play, rough and kinda mean ghost, veryyyy light dub-con (johnny is sorta coerced but he’s a willing participant), slight feminization (afab language used to refer to amab biology), super brief cbt
Ghost sees Soap in that little throat mic and just knows - that man is meant to be on all fours.
It's little things at first - he sees the way Soap is always looking for praise, the way he lights up a little at just a hint of it. A hand clasped on the shoulder, a "Good work, Sergeant" and he's beaming for the next hour.
Likewise, the lack of praise affects him the same way. He does particularly well and Ghost deprives him of what he thinks he's earned? He gets all clingy and pouty. He sticks to Ghost's shadow, leans into his space a little, tries constantly to impress him for the rest of the day. The way Johnny’s eyes flick over to Ghost every time he does something he thinks is worth praise is as cute as it is annoying.
The thing with Soap is that he wants to listen past a military point. Like yes he’s been in the military for nearly a decade by the time he meets Ghost so of course it’s sort of beaten into him that he listens to his superiors, but Soap has an innate desire to obey that Ghost just cannot ignore. And his little crush means he's looking to obey Ghost, specifically.
It's easy to make himself the center of Soap's world.
He passes him in the kitchen one morning, squeezes his front a little close to Soap’s back and says “Make me a tea, Johnny” as the smaller man pours his own coffee. He’s careful not to phrase it as a question, to walk away before Johnny can respond. A few minutes later, a steaming cup is set on the table in front of him. Johnny slips into a chair beside him and Ghost raises an eyebrow beneath the balaclava. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Johnny shoots him a look that’s almost nervous, quickly covers it with his usual bravado. “What, you mind a little company over your tea?”
“Yes. Shoo.” He turns away and lifts his mask just enough to drink. A clear dismal. He hears Johnny scoff, pout a little bit, but he disappears a moment later, shoulders a bit slumped as he shuffles over to Gaz’s table.
The next morning, there’s a cup of tea waiting next to Johnny as he pours his own coffee. Ghost smirks beneath the mask, gives an approving nod when he sees the hopeful look in Johnny’s eyes, and sits down for breakfast.
He starts to touch Soap more, when he’s been a good boy.
A “Good work out there, Sergeant” is said with a hand around the nape of the neck instead of on the shoulder. He squeezes Johnny’s thigh when he drops his morning tea off at his table, quick and perfunctory and not allowing any room for questioning. He’ll see Johnny working particularly hard in the gym and place a heavy hand on his head, running his fingers all the way through his mohawk and smoothing it down before moving on. A hand on the waist to move Johnny out of his way, a hand on the knee when he bounces his foot, the line of Simon’s body pressed against Johnny’s in meetings, all done to get his pup used to being touched by him in a way no one else has been in decades.
He makes sure they spend time alone. Johnny works out late at night, so Simon starts to too. Makes sure they’re the only ones in the gym, and usually goads Johnny into sparring so he can spend an hour or two forcing him to the ground over and over again. Follows him into the shower and uses the stall right next to Johnny, rolls his eyes at Johnny���s light complaining and smirks at his blush, the way he tries to discreetly wash his cock even though he’s been taking group showers for years now.
There’s a day he calls Johnny over to his table at dinner. A quick, “MacTavish, here,” gets Johnny’s head jerking up along with several other people in the room, has him nearly stumbling over his feet to reach Simon’s side.
“Yeah, L.t.?”
“Sit.” Johnny obeys, dropping into the seat next to Simon as soon as the command is past his lips. “Here,” he holds out an apple. “Grabbed one without thinkin’. I don’t like ‘em, but you do. Eat it.”
Johnny glances from the fruit to Simon a couple times, so he rolls his eyes and holds it a little further. “Come on, Johnny, haven’t got all day.”
Johnny finally grabs the apple with a growing smile and says, “I knew you had a heart, Simon. Thanks.” He’s smart enough to stay next to Ghost for the rest of dinner, munching away on the apple and occasionally prattling on about something or other, none of it requiring much response from Ghost.
Simon does the same thing the next evening, and the next, and on the fourth day Johnny trots over as soon as Simon looks his way. Ghost grins beneath the mask and ruffles his hair when he sits, keeps a heavy hand on the back of Johnny’s neck for a bit as a reward.
At night he jacks off to his fantasies of the future. He stares at the dog cage in the corner of his room, spits into the palm of his hand, and strokes his cock from root to tip.
He pictures Johnny on his knees, yipping and barking and begging Simon to let him suck his cock. He pictures Johnny with a collar around his neck, a leash attached and wrapped around Simon’s hand - he jerks it harshly, watches as Johnny falls face first to the ground and fucks his ass where it’s up in the air so nicely. He pictures locking Johnny’s hands into a pair of paw mitts, tells him he can go ahead and come if he wants, moans aloud at the mental image of Johnny rutting into his paws and crying because he can’t get himself off. Securing a muzzle around his face when he’s too loud, threatening him with a bark collar and watching the way Johnny’s eyes roll back in his head. Crate training his new puppy, long nights spent ignoring the whining and growling in the corner of his room, jacking off and hearing the whines pitch up an octave higher from desperation. Pouring kibble into a bowl, jacking off over it, and watching Johnny eat it up eagerly and lick the bowl for any extra taste of his master’s cum.
Johnny and Ghost’s rooms share a wall. Sometimes, late at night, Johnny gets loud. Simon can hear him moaning and whining through the wall, nothing much more than indistinct noises but they’re noises that get him hard as steel. He hears the slutty moans for hours sometimes, thinks to himself that he’ll have to end up using the muzzle far sooner than he’d thought with such a noisy pup.
His need for Johnny grows daily, with every subtle show of submission he can squeeze from his Sergeant.
There’s a mission where Johnny gets a little uppity. Gaz and Price are on the East side of a compound they’re meant to be infiltrating, while Ghost and Soap have been assigned to the West. Ghost’s plan is to wait for the civilians (suspected terrorists, but their involvement is unconfirmed, so they aren’t KOS) to leave before sneaking in and taking the intel, but Soap had made some stupid bet with Garrick about which team could finish faster and wanted to kill the suspects right then, take the info, and get out.
It’s a low pressure mission - the odds of them dying are never zero, but they’re usually lowest on a simple recon mission like this. The safety gives Johnny a little more confidence (if that’s even possible) and has him pushing against Simon’s orders. He’s hyped up, bouncing on his toes and grumbling about Ghost’s commands when he thinks Ghost is far enough away not to hear.
The last straw is when he draws his knife, moving to storm into the computer lab and slaughter the few potential terrorists there explicitly against orders. Ghost nearly growls, grabs Johnny by his neck and slams him into the wall.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He rumbles, pointer finger slipping beneath the throat mic - the fucking collar - and pulling Johnny up by it.
“Let’s just get this done, L.t.,” Johnny growls in return, his little teeth bared as he glares up at Simon. “I want to get the fuck out of here.”
Ghost nearly smirks at his little attempt at dominance. “You follow orders, MacTavish. I tell you to do something, you do it.”
Johnny rolls his eyes, grumbles a little. “I know, I know, I should listen to my Lieutenant, yeah?”
“No,” Ghost’s hand forces Johnny back to the wall when he tries to stand straight, fingers flexing on either side of his throat. “You listen to me.”
His hand creeps up from Johnny’s neck to his jaw, fingers pressing into the hinges on either side until Johnny’s mouth drops open. A second later, his tongue rolls out to rest on his bottom lip. He gives a little whine, eyebrows furrowed, and Ghost just says, “Hush.”
He takes a minute to appreciate the sight, letting his weight rest on Johnny, his cock thickening against his boy’s stomach. He tracks a little droplet of spit as it travels down Johnny’s tongue.
“Now,” he starts, giving Johnny’s head a tiny shake when he sees the glaze starting to lay over his eyes. “Are you gonna be good and listen? Or are you gonna make me put you in your place?”
Johnny tries to close his mouth to speak but Ghost just shakes his head, tsks, and Johnny mimics the movement a moment later. “You’ll be good?” He confirms, and Johnny nods. Ghost smiles beneath the mask. “Attaboy,” he praises with a quick pat to Johnny’s cheek, stepping back and letting the pup compose himself.
“They should be gone by now. You ready to go in, Sergeant?”
It takes him a moment to stand, a little pink flush high on his cheekbones, but Johnny gets his feet under him and nods. “Yes, sir.”
Ghost has to bite his lip to stop his moan. He feels his restraint slip, stays a step behind Johnny to compose himself.
They go on like that for months, Ghost slowly creeping past the few boundaries Johnny has set up and pulling the man deeper and deeper into his orbit. He starts to see Johnny looking up every time someone enters a room, suppresses a smirk when he visibly brightens at Simon’s presence.
He gets him used to being touched, to a controlling hand on his neck, his shoulder, his wrist, his thigh,a tug on his earlobe when he’s being a brat, the rare flick to the tip of his nose or between his eyes. He takes note of the way Johnny stiffens when Ghost is near, the way he relaxes completely when he finally feels his touch.
He keeps Johnny a little unsure of his feelings, sometimes even letting him feel his erection when they spar - or letting him see it when they shower - but never taking anything in a sexual direction or even implying he’d like to.
Post mission, Simon has a concussion. Johnny’s been assigned to keeping him awake, and the brat takes the job seriously, prattling on endlessly about subjects that Ghost couldn’t care less about. The pounding in his head makes him murderous.
At one point he can’t take it anymore, he slaps a hand over Johnny’s mouth where the man sits next to him (Johnny leaned against the armrest, Simon sitting in the center of the couch and spreading his thighs enough to touch Johnny’s and make him shrink away just a bit). He glares at the younger man, bites out “Just shut up. Stop fuckin’ barking, MacTavish.”
Johnny’s eyes narrow, and a moment later his tongue licks across Ghost’s palm. He only curls his lip in response, tucks two fingers into Johnny’s mouth as payback. He pushes just far enough to trigger his gag reflex, then pulls back a few centimeters. When Johnny tries to start talking around the digits, Simon stuffs a third between his teeth. There’s a moment when Simon thinks Johnny will fight back, will grab his wrist and shove it away from him. But he doesn’t. He sits there like a good boy, goes all relaxed after a moment and forces Simon’s hand to follow his head when he leans back a bit.
They sit like that for a few hours. Eventually Johnny’s teeth start chewing lightly at Simon’s fingers. He doesn’t mind, the motion helps him stay awake.
They pull apart in the early hours of the day, when soldiers around base start waking up. Simon pulls his fingers out with a rumbled, “Good boy,” and neither of them say another word about it.
It doesn’t become a regular occurrence, per se, but Simon takes the opportunities available to him to start on Johnny’s throat training.
They’re the only two in the canteen after a stressful debrief, and Simon catches Johnny staring at his fingers. He asks, “You want them?” and gets a little shocked look from Johnny. He scoffs lightly, lifts his hand and poises two fingers right in front of Johnny’s lips. “Go ahead.” They sit like that until Simon finishes his meal, and walk to their rooms together.
Another time Johnny is overhyped from a good workout. A long day of training rookies ending with loss after loss on the sparring mat with Ghost leaves his body near vibrating with energy. Simon corners him after his shower when he sees Johnny start scratching at his arms. Pushes against his shoulder, gets him pinned against the wall, the only things between the two of them the matching towels wrapped around their waists. Ghost doesn’t explain, just shoves a few fingers in Johnny’s mouth and gives him a stern look when he reaches for his wrist. Johnny gives in a moment later, and they spend nearly half an hour just like that. Johnny’s calmer when they seperate, that volatile energy just beneath his skin soothed for a bit.
His breaking point comes after a rough mission. Price had taken a knife to the thigh, Kyle’s arm was strained enough that he needed a sling, Ghost had nasty bruises across his ribs, but Soap had managed to escape the mission completely unscathed - a fact that left him restless and angry.
He paces endlessly when they get back to base, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth in the abandoned common area of the 141’s wing. Ghost tracks him from his spot in Price’s recliner, notes the tension in Soap’s shoulders and the twitches in his fingers.
When Soap starts scratching at his hair, hand running over his scalp endlessly and leaving light red lines in his wake, Simon sighs and decides he needs to step in.
“C’mere, Johnny.”
His Sergent jerks up at Ghost’s voice, almost like he had forgotten he wasn’t alone. He’s moving just a heartbeat later though, steps right up between Ghost’s thighs and trains his eyes on the chair over his shoulder. Simon leans forward, bites back a groan at the ache in his ribs, and uses a finger to push Johnny’s chin up.
“Eyes on me, pup.” He examines his boy closely, takes a few long moments to try and read his thoughts through his eyes. “Need me to help you relax?”
Johnny’s brows furrow for a moment before he speaks. “I-” he tries, but stops and jerks his head to the side a bit. “I- yes. Yes, sir. I don’t know… I can’t fuckin’... I-”
“I know,” Simon reassures, running a thumb over Johnny’s bottom lip. “I know. I can help you. Go ahead and kneel for me, Johnny.”
And he does. Perfect boy that he is, he drops right to the floor between Simon’s knees without hesitation. He can’t help but smile at the sight of a stressed Johnny right where he’s meant to be, relaxing back into the leather with a grunt.
“Now. You want somethin’ in your mouth? Somethin’ to suck on for a bit?”
Johnny nods, relief palabale in his expression, and reaches a hand towards Simon’s wrist. “Uh uh,” he scolds, moving both hands from his thighs to the arms of the chair. “I want to keep my fingers tonight. Might have a smoke in a bit, read the paper. Can’t do that with you slobberin’ on ‘em.”
Johnny gets that confused look on his face again. “What else then?” He asks, a hint of frustration bleeding through.
Simon doesn’t give him the stern hand he’s subconsciously looking for, just tilts his head a little and telegraphs his expectance with his eyes.
“Nothin’?” Johnny spits, lip curling a little in his own anger.
“You can figure it out, pup. Don’t think too hard.”
Johnny huffs, falling back to sit on his ankles and scan Ghost’s form. His eyes stop right below his belt, before jerking up to his eyes again and tilting his head a bit. “Well?” Simon asks.
“Your…” Johnny swallows, then continues. “Your cock, sir?”
Simon just tilts his head a little more. “What about it?”
Johnny huffs. “Can I suck your cock, sir?”
He smirks beneath the mask. “Try again. Ask nicely.”
A little whine spills from Johnny’s lips, his hands moving to rest on Simon’s thighs. “Fuck. Please, can I suck your cock, sir?”
Simon lets his head fall back to the seat. “Sure. If you really need to, puppy.”
He’s hardly gotten the permission out when Johnny starts pulling his belt off, his cock in his mouth a moment later. Johnny groans when he sinks down, taking his full shaft in one go.
Simon jerks a little with a curse. “Fuck, Johnny. Where the hell did you learn to do that?”
Johnny winks up at him, a little upturn at the corner of his lips. Brat.
“Fuckin’ slag,” Simon sneers, one hand locking in Johnny’s hair and holding him down so his nose is buried in Ghost’s happy trail, ignores his muffled gagging. “Shoulda known you’d be so experienced. Sucked every cock on base, soldier?”
Johnny whines a little at that, tries to shake his head but Simon’s grip prevents it.
“Quiet,” he growls, pushing Johnny deeper for just a moment before letting up. “You wanted somethin’ to suck on, so suck.”
And he does. They sit like that for a while - Simon smoking a cigarette while receiving the slowest, most torturous blowjob he’s ever had. Johnny’s sucking lessens as he realizes Ghost won’t let him move his head, and as the minutes pass he moves on to truly cockwarming him. Just a soft wet heat around Simon’s dick. His eyes glaze over a bit, go half-lidded as Ghost’s fingers shift to stroke his hair.
And then Johnny fucking bites him.
Simon’s got him thrown off his dick as soon as his teeth press down, his own teeth bared in a snarl. He opens his mouth, ready to put Johnny firmly back in his place, when he sees the confusion on his pup’s face.
He’s fallen back on his ass, and his eyes are still only half open. He looks up at Ghost like he hasn’t got a single clue what’s going on, like he’d do anything Ghost says in that moment because he can’t quite think for himself. And he sticks the tip of his tongue beneath his little fangs, starts gnawing a bit.
Ghost sighs as he falls back into his chair, hand coming up to pinch his nose. “Johnny,” he rumbles. “You dumb fuckin’ mutt. I said somethin’ to suck not somethin’ to chew.”
Johnny doesn’t respond - Simon isn’t sure he could respond, even with clarity slowly coming back to his eyes - but he does move back between Simon’s legs, hands tucked onto his own knees as he rests his cheek on Simon’s thigh. He sighs, reaching forward to rub Johnny’s ear as he considers what to do next.
“Pup,” he hums, giving the ear between his fingers a harsh tug to try and get his attention. “That was very bad. What do you say when you’ve been bad?”
The glaze over his eyes disappears more and more, but genuine confusion still seeps into his expression.”What?”
Ghost sighs, like he’s going through some horrible inconvenience. “C’mon, puppy. Use your little brain for just a second. What do you do when you’ve been bad?”
Johnny leans back a bit, hands coming up to push at Ghost’s shins. “Lieutenant, what-”
Simon cuts him by yanking his head back by the roots of his hair, leaning over until his face hovers right above Johnny’s despite the pain in his ribs. “It’s a simple fucking question, Johnny. What do you say when you’ve been bad?”
There’s a spark of panic underneath the confusion, but Ghost only leans closer. “I- I don’t-”
Simon blows a sharp breath through his nose, uses his free hand to give Johnny a harsh little smack on his cheek. “C’mon. You can go dumb on my cock again in a minute, but answer me first.”
“I-I’m sorry,” he finally gets out, looking up with a wounded expression on his face like he’s been done all kinds of wrong.
“Good. What are you sorry for?’
“For…” Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, and Simon gives him the time he needs to piece things together. “For biting you.” A sharp look from Ghost, a lifted hand, and he’s quickly correcting himself. “I’m sorry for biting your cock. Sir.”
Simon finally leans back in his seat, moves Johnny’s head forward with him. “There you go. Shouldn’t’ve been so hard to figure out, but we can work on that. Now - why don’t you apologize properly.”
Offense colors Johnny’s expression, lips opening to protest, but Simon just tugs him right up to his spit-slick erection. “C’mon,” he instructs. “Kiss it better, pup.”
Johnny winces a bit, but dutifully opens his mouth wider and leans to take Simon’s cock between his lips.
“Nuh-uh,” Ghost scolds, pulling Johnny to the side of his member instead. “I don’t trust those teeth of yours right now. Kiss it right.”
He winces more, but purses his lips and presses them to Simon’s skin while casting a weary glance up to the bigger man.
Ghost shakes his head again, grip tightening a bit in Johnny’s hair. “Nope. Kiss it like a proper puppy, go on.”
It takes a second for Johnny to understand, then to come to terms with what Ghost is asking. He squirms a little on his knees, tries to pull away from Simon’s grip for a second, but eventually he sticks his tongue out and licks the side of his cock.
“There you go,” Simon praises, loosening his grip and petting Johnny’s head in reward. “Good boy. Go ahead and show me how sorry you are, maybe I’ll let you have a few of my fingers if I think you’ve earned them.”
He makes Johnny apologize for ten minutes, watches the clock on the wall when he can stand to tear his eyes away from Johnny’s display. It doesn’t take him long to get into it, licks and kisses becoming more and more enthusiastic, even slipping down to lick at Ghost’s balls. It’s quite the apology.
“Alright,” he eventually groans, guiding Johnny’s lips to the head of his cock. “Go ahead and suck me off. Let’s see if you can earn a reward.”
He gets Simon off in record time. That same glaze covers his eyes again but the lethargy doesn’t return - instead, Johnny bobs his head rapidly, taking Simon all the way to the hilt nearly every time and massaging the underside of his cock with his tongue. He doesn’t bite again, but the intentional little scrapes of his teeth have Ghost fighting not to buck his hips. He’s clearly enjoying himself too, because his little moans and groans send vibrations down Simon’s cock that leave him curling his hands into fists against the armrests.
Ghost guides his head for his last few thrusts, holds Johnny down on his cock and comes right down his throat. He moans a little louder than is probably wise considering they’re in a public space, but watching Johnny’s eyes flutter shut at the sound is worth the slight risk.
Simon lets him pull off in his own time. Johnny takes a few seconds, swallows on his way back up, but he sits back on his heels a few moments after Simon’s finished.
There’s a heavy moment where the only sound is both of them panting. Ghost holds his fingertips in front of Johnny’s lips as an invitation, flicks his eyes down when they aren’t soaked immediately.
Johnny’s restless on his knees, shifting back and forth a little nervously and staring at the center of Simon’s chest.
“What is it?” Ghost finally asks, when the silence stretches long enough for it become clear that Johnny won’t be speaking first.
His eyes dart up to make eye contact, then down to his chest again. “Sir… I want… can I get off too? Please?”
Ghost nearly moans louder than he had when coming.
“Good boy for asking, Johnny,” he praises, petting the pup a few times and cooing at the way Johnny leans into his hand. “You need permission to come from now on, yeah? Here,” he moves his still-booted foot between Johnny’s spread knees, lifts his heel to push into his crotch a bit, smiles at the sharp jerk and whine it elicits. “Grind on this puppy. Take as long as you need.”
Johnny’s pupils are fully blown when he looks up at Ghost, the saddest little crease in his forehead and pout on his lips. Simon’s glad he’s got the mask, so Johnny can’t see the way he beams. “C’mon,” two taps of his steel-toes on the ground. “Thought you wanted to get off? I’m not stayin’ here all night, pup.”
That gets Johnny jolting forward, one hand curling up behind Simon’s knee to anchor himself and the other resting on the chair between his thighs. He thrusts tentatively a few times, eyes squeezed shut and forehead pressed deep into Simon’s knee. Doesn’t even think of wrapping a hand around his own cock.
Ghost lets him hide for a bit, but once Johnny’s hips start really working, once he starts letting out little moans and his hands start twitching, he grips Johnny’s chin and rests it on his knee, so he’s looking up at Ghost and his scrunched up face is easy to see.
“Hmm,” Simon hums, running a hand over Johnny’s head and scratching a bit behind his ears. “There you go. Good boy, Johnny, humpin’ my boot. So good for me.”
He gets off quicker than Simon expects, only a few more thrusts and Johnny’s hips jerk to a stop, a moan falling from parted lips.
They both stay like that for a bit. Ghost, relaxed back in Price’s chair with a hand on Johnny’s head, and Soap, knelt between his Lieutenant’s knees and leaning most of his weight on his calf. Eventually Simon pulls them both up, guides a drowsy Johnny to his room, sends him off to bed with an affectionate squeeze to his neck and a final, “Good boy.”
Johnny avoids him for a few days. He still makes Ghost’s tea in the morning, but instead of lighting up when Ghost enters a room he’s quick to leave it, standing across the room from him during briefings. His sudden aversion and nerves pisses Simon off a bit, but he tells himself to just be patient, to let Johnny work through his thoughts on his own time. Or at least for another day or two.
It takes three days for Johnny to break. It’s that third night that he knocks on Ghost’s door, the halls already empty and silent.
He looks disheveled, hair completely askew and his worn t-shirt and pajama pants both sitting awkwardly on his frame. He’s got this stressed look in his eyes, pin-sized pupils, and a harshness to his breathing. Simon doesn’t have to do more than raise an eyebrow - no mask this late at night - for him to start begging.
“You fuckin’… you said I had to ask.”
Ghost plays at confusion. Cocks his head to the side a bit. “Ask for what, Johnny?”
Johnny snarls, hands fisted where they rest on the doorway. “To fucking… fo fucking come. You said I had to ask, and now I can’t- I can’t fuckin’ get off, L.t.”
He looks so desperate, the poor thing - cheeks ruddy, eyes a little teary and red, the harsh line of cock clear as day in those flannel pants. He looks a bit like he’s coming apart at the seams, so Ghost has mercy and finally steps aside to let him in, locking the door behind them.
“You need permission.” Ghost leans back on the wall, crossing his arms across his chest and one ankle over the other.
“Yeah,” Johnny scoffs with a little half-laugh. “My bloody cock seems to think so.”
“No. You need permission, because your pleasure is mine. Because you are mine.”
“My pleasure is- what?” Johnny’s forehead creases and his lips curl. “What the fuck are you on about? I don’t fuckin’-“
“Then how come you can’t get off?”
“Because- it’s- och, awa’ an bile yer heid, I can get off just fine on my own any other day, don’t need permission- “ he sneers at the word “- from any bastard. ‘Specially not you.”
Cute. Puppy’s throwing a little tantrum.
Ghost just raises an eyebrow, glances down at the tent in Johnny’s pants. “Go ahead then.”
Soap’s head tears back a bit. “What - get off? Here?”
“Do you need it in Spanish?”
Johnny just scowls, glances away from Simon and pushes his pants down just enough that the waistband hooks under his balls - it’s a testament to his own desperation that he hardly even thinks about Ghost’s order. His cock bounces straight up to his stomach, a dark red that’s nearly purple.
“That looks like it hurts, Johnny.”
“Cause it fuckin’ does,” Johnny snarls, wrapping a harsh hand around his noticeably slick cock. His strokes are tentative at first, but quickly become fast and almost careless.
Ghost watches with a careful eye. Johnny’s got no finesse when locked in his own need like this, doesn’t bother to tighten his fist at all or even twist his wrist on the downstroke. Just holds his fingers together and fucks the little hole.
Notably, he doesn’t finish. Keeps glancing up every time he seems to get close, and it’s like the sight of Ghost brings him back from the edge, stuck unintentionally edging himself again and again. It makes him feral, makes him whiney and a little teary, and Ghost wants to swallow him whole.
After a few minutes Johnny rips his hand away from his cock with what seems like a Herculean effort, smacking his palm against his thigh. “See? I can’t fuckin’…”
“Come,” Ghost finishes. “It’s because you don’t have permission. That stupid little puppy brain of yours knows that, even if you want to pretend you don’t.”
“Then-“ a little animal noise of desperation, and Johnny gives himself a fast and hard stroke before throwing his hand off again. “Then gimme permission.”
Ghost tilts his head back, shows off the long line of his throat. “Why should I? You haven’t been very polite tonight, puppy. Most I’d give you is my leg to hump, but with your attitude I’m not sure you even deserve that.”
Johnny stumbles forward a bit, falls to his knees a step away from Ghost. “No, no, L.t., please, I’ll take anythin’. Need to come so fuckin’ bad.”
Ghost just shakes his head with a sigh. “That’s not my problem. I’m still not seeing anything in this for me.”
A high keen slides from Johnny’s throat, one that lights his face up red and makes him avert his eyes until he works his courage back up. “I’ll… I’ll suck your cock?”
The scowl on Ghost’s face isn’t manufactured. “That’s something you ask for, Johnny. Suckin’ my cock is a prívelege for bitches like you. You askin’ for that?”
Johnny scooches forward on his knees, balls hanging low and heavy beneath his thick cock. “Ok, ok, fine - please, please let me suck your cock, sir.”
Ghost tuts and shakes his head slowly, but sets his feet at shoulder width and stands from the wall. “No, Johnny. You get to beg like a dog. Y’know why?”
Little tears bead at the corner of his eyes, but Johnny only shakes his head a little in response. Ghost bends down, locks a hand around his boy’s throat and keeps his face directly above him. “Tell me why, Johnny.”
“L.t….”
“Don’t whine. Tell me why you’re gonna beg like a dog for me.”
Johnny stares up at Simon like he’s destroying his whole world and rebuilding it at the same time, like there’s nothing that exists outside of them in this moment.
“Cause… cause I’m a dog?”
“That’s right,” Ghost purrs, stroking his hand up and down the column of his boy’s throat. “You’re my dog. So go on. Beg like a good boy and I might let you have a taste of my cock.”
Johnny’s eyes squeeze tight for a moment when Simon stands back up. He takes a minute, then opens them and flicks his gaze from Ghost’s cock to his face.
He lifts his hands, folds his fingers in half and tucks his thumbs to his palms, and holds them out in front of his chest, hanging limp like a pair of paws. His knees spread a little, lowering him further to the ground, and a moment later he opens his mouth, little pink tongue unfurling to rest on his lip.
“There ya go,” Simon rumbles, reaching to massage his cock through his sweats. “Go on. You’re doin’ so good, boy.”
Johnny whines at that, catches on to what Ghost wants when he tugs his pants down and pulls out his heavy cock. A heartbeat later he starts whining endlessly, little high pitched noises straight from his chest, wiggling around on his knees and leaning forward like he’ll sneak a taste.
“You want this?” Ghost asks, grabbing Soap by the hair and pulling his face to his dick. “Huh?” He doesn’t let him lick it, but thrusts his hips so he’s covering the mutt’s face in his precum. Johnny keeps up his begging, eyes desperately tracking the head as it rubs around his face.
“Alright,” Ghost snickers, pulling Johnny back and lining the tip of his cock with his lips. “Paws between your legs, puppy. No touching.” His first brutal thrust past Johnny’s lips muffles his whine.
He takes control of the blowjob this time, less Johnny sucking his cock and more Johnny getting his face fucked. Ghost doesn’t take into account his pup’s comfort, just pushes and pulls his head in the ways that feel best. He lets it drag on longer this time, enjoys the cockdrunk look in Johnny’s eyes.
The gagging sounds are salacious in his otherwise silent room. Johnny might be an experienced cocksucker, but Ghost knows how to push past his boundaries in any context. He doesn’t give him a chance to breathe, let’s Johnny find the ebbs and flows of his pace on his own. If Ghost cranes his head to the side he can see a little puddle of drool on the ground beneath them.
He doesn’t come down Johnny’s throat this time. He pulls out and jerks his cock quickly, watches the spurts of cum cover Johnny’s flushed cheeks and long eyelashes. He squeezes every last drop from his cock, gives his boy a proper facial.
It doesn’t take long for Johnny to start squirming around. He doesn’t speak - smart boy - but he whines and moans, looks up at Ghost with those pathetic puppy dog eyes and ruts into the air.
“Alright,” Ghost sighs once he’s come down a bit from his high. “Go ahead puppy, you can hump. No touching yourself though, be a good boy for me.”
Ghost is nearly knocked into the wall behind him with the force of Johnny mounting his calf. He gets both arms wrapped tight around Simon’s thigh, his face buried into his wet cock and his hips working furiously to get himself off. Ghost can feel Johnny’s dick through the fabric of his pants, feels his own cock twitch a little at his pup’s desperation.
Johnny finishes even faster this time than he had last time - only to be expected after three days of edging himself. His pupils are blown wide, jaw hanging loose and drool slipping from the corner of his lips.
Ghost gives him a second to recover, then steps away. Poor Johnny falls forward, nearly smacking his head into the wall before Simon catches him by the neck.
“Clean up your mess, puppy. You slobbered all over the floor.”
It’s a testament to how far gone Johnny truly is that he doesn’t hesitate, ducks down on his hands and knees as soon as Simon commands and starts licking the filthy floor.
Ghost hums, runs a hand down Johnny’s back and to his ass. He crouches down behind the boy, pulls his pajamas the rest of the way off so they’re loose at his knees.
His hole is a little slick, like maybe he wormed a finger or two in there when he tried to steal an orgasm. Not very well stretched, though, the little rosebud looks virgin-tight.
Ghost rumbles audibly as he spreads Johnny’s cheeks, blowing a little breath over his hole and relishing the sudden yip, the little buck of his hips.
“Nice and clean back here, Johnny. You’ve got a right puppycunt.” He emphasizes his words with a harsh slap to the little hole, using the flat of two of his fingers.
Johnny moans, a mix of pleasure and what’s probably humiliation. He starts to lift his head up, but Ghost shoves him back down by the back of his neck. “You’re not finished with your job, dog. Keep licking. What I do with your pretty little hole shouldn’t distract you from your orders.”
Another whine, another smack. Ghost appreciates the slight redness on his crack starting to appear, gives the vulnerable area a few more harsher taps to emphasize it. The puppy moans and groans away, but he doesn’t lift his head again so Simon lets him be.
He spreads his cheeks again, leans in and licks from Johnny’s taint to his hole. He digs in there, tongue prodding into the tight little bud and spitting so he can slick his own way
Johnny’s squirmy beneath him, but Ghost’s tight grip on his ass keeps him still enough, so he lets him be. He stays head-down-ass-up, and that’s all that really matters.
Ghost eats his boy out as sloppily as he can. He doesn’t plan on going far enough to grab lube, so what Johnny gets from his mouth is all he’ll get to ease the stretch.
He slips a finger in eventually, a stretch that has Johnny moaning like a bitch in heat. He can’t help but smile, bites the meat of Johnny’s ass to keep from laughing. A second finger slips in easily, and Ghost takes his time properly stretching him for a bit. Wouldn’t want to hurt the new puppy so soon.
Johnny isn’t content with the pace for long. As soon as he’s adjusted to the stretch of Ghost’s thick fingers, he’s wiggling around again. This time he pushes himself up on his hands, tries to glance over his shoulder.
“Pl-please, please, sir, need you, need your cock so bad-“
A snarl tears from Ghost’s throat. He leans forward enough to slam Johnny back to the floor, ignoring the shout of true pain from the man. He quickly moves back and grabs Johnny’s half-hard dick, tugs the useless thing straight up to his stomach with one hand and uses the other to land a series of blows against his balls.
Johnny starts wailing, face still on the floor but the rest of him clambering to get away. “Si-Simon-!”
“Shut the fuck up, boy. You don’t get to fuckin’ talk. Dogs don’t fucking talk.” He punctuates nearly every word with a slap, relishes the way he starts to sob and go limp from the onslaught.
“Bad boy, Johnny,” he finally says, stops the mini-punishment with a final open-palmed smack. He keeps Johnny’s balls in a tight grip, tugs them down another minute. “Very bad boy. You don’t speak without command, understood?”
He can see Johnny nodding against the floor, can see the whites of his eyes and the stiff line of his shoulders. But he doesn’t make a sound.
“Not good enough. Tell me you understand - properly.”
Johnny whimpers a little, shuffles his knees back and forth and looks over his shoulder at Ghost with the most confused look in his eyes.
Ghost decides to take mercy on him. With a sigh, he explains, “Bark, MacTavish. Bark for me.”
And he does. Perfect, sweet boy that he is, he opens his mouth and starts barking for his master. Little puppy sounds from a puppy boy, music to Simon’s ears.
“There it is. Alright, you’re forgiven, puppy. Keep workin’ on your mess while I stretch your pretty pussy for my cock.”
There’s another moan at that, but Ghost sees the way his cock twitches up against his stomach. With a smirk he goes back to work, skipping a third finger in and drawing a moan from Johnny.
He doesn’t waste much more time stretching Johnny, spreads his fingers wide a few times before pulling out and shuffling closer - his knees between Johnny’s spread thighs so the smaller man can’t close his legs.
He strokes a hand over Johnny’s hips, gets a good firm hold at his waist and gives him a little shake. “Be good now, Johnny. Keep your cunt loose for me.”
He slides into Johnny’s heat in one long stroke, head rolling back on his neck and a groan coming from deep within his chest. Johnny tightens up almost immediately, moaning beneath him, but Simon keeps a steady pressure and sinks balls-deep in only a few seconds.
He doesn’t give Johnny any time to adjust to the stretch, tightens his grip on the pup’s hips and fucks him at his own pace. He isn’t nice about it, punching himself deep into Johnny’s guts and carving a space in his cunt that’s Simon shaped.
Johnny yelps a little, wiggles in his spot, but Simon’s got a good hold and he isn’t going anywhere. Keeps fucking him how he wants, and a few thrusts in Johnny goes limp beneath him.
“Like that, boy?” Simon growls, hunching over and placing his lips right at Johnny’s ear. “Like me fucking you deep in your puppycunt? Huh?”
Johnny doesn’t even need any prompting to start barking again. Ghost knew he’d be the perfect puppy once he had someone to show him how he’s truly meant to act. Just a needy little bitch, begging for cock and someone to keep him in his place.
Ghost tucks a hand into Johnny’s hair, holds his face to the floor and puts his back into fucking him.
“That’s a good fuckin’ dog, my good boy, Johnny. Feel so tight around me - perfect little hole for me, huh? Little limp doggy for me to fuck? God, you feel so good around me. Fuckin’ perfect cunt, made just for me. Bark for me some more, Johnny, go on - yes, yes, just like that, c’mon, good boy, such a good boy for me, fuck-”
Ghost’s hips jerk to a stop deep inside Johnny, his cum planted as far into the boy as he could get it. He rests his forehead against Johnny’s shoulder while he catches his breath, the sound of Johnny’s whimpers and moans fading in and out.
He gathers himself a few heartbeats later, straightens up and pulls out. He watches the way his come slides out of Johnny’s fucked open hole, pushes his thumb in the stop the drip for just a moment.
He gives a perfunctory little pat to Johnny’s ass, commands “Stay” before standing and ambling over to his dresser. He tucks a few things into the pockets of his sweats, twirls a little tail plug around in his hand.
“Good boy,” Ghost praises when he turns back and sees Johnny hasn’t moved a muscle. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, but instead of moving to jerk himself he just lays there, looking a little dazed and confused. “Listen so well once you’ve been fucked dumb, huh, Johnny?”
There’s a little whine in response, and Ghost just chuckles as he kneels behind Johnny again. It takes no effort to slip the tail plug into his hole, keeping all of Ghost locked right inside Johnny - right where he’s meant to be. The pup hardly even notices past a little shift on his knees.
Ghost sits him up slowly, grabs him by the shoulder and pulls until he’s resting back on his heels and looking up at Ghost. The tail hangs low between his legs, right beneath where his dripping cock bobs in the air.
Johnny opens his mouth, starts to speak before Ghost hushes him to keep him out of trouble. “You been so good tonight, Johnny. Gotta be good a little longer for me, yeah?”
Johnny nods a little, brows scrunching together. His hand creeps toward his dick seemingly unconsciously, and Simon bats it away like it’s nothing more than a bothersome fly.
“No touching. Now - do you want to stay the night with me, or go back to your room? Bark once for my room and twice for yours, puppy.”
It takes a minute, a little tap to Johnny’s cheek to bring some coherence back to his eyes, but he lets out a little woof eventually.
Ghost doesn’t bother to hide his smile, strokes over Johnny’s head in soft little pets. “That‘s my good boy. C’mon, let’s get you ready for bed.”
He’s careful not to let Johnny move out of his puppy headspace. Keeps him on his knees with a hand on the shoulder, guides him with soft little taps to the side as he crawls over to the crate in the corner.
Johnny pauses at the sight of it, breath hitching as he looks up at Ghost. He’s got this look on his face - a mix of confusion, fear, and arousal - that makes Ghost think he might be able to come another time. Again, he opens his mouth to say something but Simon stops him before he can.
“You’re doing well, Johnny. Don’t fuck it up now, yeah? Now, puppies sleep in their crates before they’re trained - you sleep in my room, you sleep in the crate.”
Johnny keens, leaning away from Ghost’s hand on his neck a little and ducking his head low. Ghost just tuts, kneeling down in front of him. Johnny’s already made his decision - the correct one - and he’s not letting him go back on it.
“You’ll be fine, Johnny.” He soothes. “I’ll be right there in bed, not even six feet away. Crate’s got all you need - a nice mattress, a blanket, even some puppy pads if you can’t make it through ‘til morning. You can be good for me for one night, yeah pup?”
He doesn’t get much more than a slow blink and a hesitant nod, but it’s enough for him.
“Good. Now let’s get you in the right gear, so you don’t do anything silly like try and jerk that useless little cock of yours. Gimme your paw.”
Johnny whines at the derogatory language, but doesn’t fight when Ghost manhandles his hand into a black pup mitt, one that covers his skin from fingertip to wrist and doesn’t allow him to uncurl any of his fingers. He repeats the process with Johnny’s other hand, can’t help but smirk a little as he gets used to the weight and feel of them.
He gets a feel for them with his nose, brushing against the entirety of the glove like a real puppy might sniff a hand. Ghost lets him gnaw a little at the rounded tops, quickly locking a cock ring around Johnny’s rock-hard dick.
That gets his attention, gets Johnny jerking up and whining.
“Settle,” Ghost rumbles, letting a bit of sternness into his tone. “Your orgasms are mine, and I don’t want you coming again tonight. I’ll reconsider in the morning, but I’m not dealing with your humpin’ and moanin’ while I’m trying to sleep. Don’t pout.”
Johnny pouts, but Ghost is a generous owner, he lets it slide. This time. His poor pup’s done well with everything Simon has had him do so far, and he’s got a long night ahead of him.
He swings the crate door open and gestures to the dark interior. “Go on, boy. Go ahead and get comfy.”
Johnny goes with just a little pressure at his nape, but he can’t seem to resist whimpering and whining the whole time as he crawls forward. Simon locks the door, hooks a combination lock on the bars to make sure his puppy won’t get out before Ghost lets him.
He draws a blanket over the top and two sides of the crate, leaves the front open so Johnny will be able to see Ghost in his bed. He hunches over the crate one last time, dips his fingers through the bars to scratch at Johnny’s head.
“You’ve been a very good boy, Johnny. We’ll get you something nice in the morning, yeah? Just gotta stay here, quiet, for the night. Can you do that for me?”
Johnny gives a little nod, but a quick yank at his hair quickly has him correcting himself and barking once instead.
“There’s my good boy. Alright, sleep well.”
He gives one last little scritch to his boy’s scalp, then turns and gets into his own bed. The sound of Johnny shifting around and trying to get comfortable, his little whimpers when (presumably) his cock brushes against something - it’s the perfect lullaby for Simon to fall asleep to.
#this got so out of control#it was supposed to be like 3k#but NOPE#someday i will write something without puppy play just to prove I’m capable of it#soap x Ghost#bo writes#ghoap#johnny mactavish x simon riley#soap mactavish x ghost riley#johnny mactavish#soap mactavish#simon riley#ghost riley
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#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#soap mactavish x ghost riley#ghost x soap#ghost/soap#ghost fanart#ghost art#ghost#john soap mactavish#soap#my art#my artwork#fandom#fanart#modern warfare#modern warfare 2
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Thought of this at work today lmao
#cod mw2#ghost cod#cod x reader#cod mwii#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#john soap mactavish#captain john price#modern warfare x reader#modern warfare 2#call of duty#real#john price#soapghost#soap mw2#soap x reader#task force 141#call of duty mw3#call of duty mwiii#captain price#kyle gaz garrick#gaz cod#gaz mw2#kortac#specgru#cod mw3 spoilers#mwiii spoilers#mw3 campaign#mw3 spoilers
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task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.
-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)
thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.
one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.
cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.
he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.
"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.
you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."
his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."
you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.
johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.
three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.
manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.
"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.
you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."
a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"
you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."
the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.
"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.
"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.
"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.
"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"
it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.
johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.
"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.
johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.
"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.
"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"
you shudder.
"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.
he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.
"forty-three."
your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.
all you can manage is one question.
"take me home?"
#⌨️ : love's writing#will defs continue this later#just#ughhhhhh#call of duty#cod mw2#cod x reader#ghost cod#mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#soap cod#polyamory#poly cod#poly tf141#tf141 x reader#tf 141#captain price#johnny soap mactavish#john price#captain john price#cod x you#call of duty x reader#soap x reader#price x reader#gaz x reader#gaz x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you
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that one scene in treasure planet
#ghostsoap#soapghost#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#soap x ghost#ghoap#cod fanart#doodle#my art#Ghost: “I love u.” Soap: “Are u dying?????”#Ghost who gets a concussion and forgets that he's supposed to hide how he feels for Soap >>>>#ive had this idea in my head for a year but kept forgetting i hadn't actually drawn it#someone’s probably already done this but I haven’t seen it#so here ya go
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The 141 getting you to stay in bed
It gets a little spicy towards the end so 18+ please
Soap
Waking up to the feeling of a numb arm is extremely unpleasant, but you suppose it comes with the territory when trying to cuddle 200+ pounds of rugged Scotsman
You manage to free your trapped limb and roll to the other side of the bed, but that space behind you remains empty for only about three seconds before Johnny's pressing himself flat to your back
Now with his arms around your waist, he holds you tight to him, mumbling unintelligibly against the back of your head
He drifts back to sleep quickly enough, his grip on you starting to loosen, only for it to tighten again when he feels you try to wriggle out of his hold
The incoherent grumbles from his throat grow increasingly displeased the more you try to shift away from him, until finally he huffs a grumpy, “Quit it,” into your scalp, hooking his leg over yours
If you still don't listen, he'll have no choice but to take drastic measures to keep you still. Fed up with your squirming, he simply rolls on top of you, pinning you to the mattress below him
You can try beating on his back, telling him that you can't breathe, but he just shrugs and says, “Use my breath.”
Don't even bother trying to explain how oxygen doesn't work like that, because he doesn't care. “Tough,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck. “‘Cause I'm no' movin’.” And by extension, neither are you
Gaz
Kyle is also a stage 5 clinger, but he's less boa constrictor and more baby koala
So when your alarm goes off at 8am precisely, it's no surprise that the man behind you grumbles in protest
“It's Saturday,” he bemoans. “Why you getting up so bloody early?” When you tell him you like to keep your routine even on the weekends, he just groans and mutters, “Five more minutes.”
You can try to squirm and wrestle out of his hold, but he'll just tighten his arm around your midsection, keeping his front firmly glued to your back
But you need to get up! You have to pee for goodness’ sake!
“Use the empty bottle on your nightstand,” he mumbles into your hair, peeking an eye open as you crane to look back at him. The look you give him at such a horrid suggestion has him sighing. “Alright, fine,” he relents and releases you. “But be quick. Bed gets cold without you.”
Once you've answered the call of nature, don't be surprised to find Kyle waiting for you directly outside the bathroom. He's wrapped up in your comforter like an oversized burrito, only his face and feet visible as they peek out from under the plush cover
With a sleepy pout, he holds his hand out for you, tugging you back to bed with him. Oh, he’ll make sure you get those five more minutes alright. Even if he has to drag you kicking and screaming
Ghost
First of all, don't even kid yourself into thinking you'll stand a chance of waking up before him or sneaking out of bed without him knowing. This man is the epitome of a light sleeper, whenever he does sleep, that is
So when you do finally wake up, it comes as no surprise to see Simon already up too. But just because you're both awake now doesn't mean you have to immediately be productive; quite the opposite, in fact
With how busy and stressed he is all the time, Simon loves nothing more than to just lie in bed with you and do nothing for hours
If you try to get up, he's stopping you with a gentle hand on your wrist, his voice quiet but firm as he commands, “Stay.”
You'll lay back down for a bit to appease him, but it won't be long before you feel guilty since you have so many things you should be doing instead
But actually, no, you don't have anything to worry about. He's already taken care of everything before you woke up, he humbly informs you
The cat's been fed, the bin’s been taken out to the curb, he's even gotten your breakfast typed up on his phone – just give him the word and he'll place the order
So now when he opens his arms for you, having you bury your face in his chest, you've got nothing to worry about except savoring this moment with him
Price
John is also a very light sleeper, so it only takes .02 seconds of you trying to stand from the bed for his bear-like snores to cease and his eyes to flit wide open
He'll grab you by the shirt hem, mumbling, “Where’re y’ goin’?” But it doesn't really matter what your answer is because his response is always the same: “No y’r not.” And pulls you back down. “Y’r stayin’ right here.”
He'll lie on his stomach, face smushed in the pillow, a big, warm hand tucked under your shirt resting against your belly
With nothing better to do, you scroll through your phone, catching up on your socials, the news, etc., but it's not long before you hear him grumble, “Put that away, will ya? ‘S too early to be meltin’ your brain with that thing.”
Well, what does he expect you to do? Lie there and stare at the ceiling for an hour? “Expect you to be good,” he tells you. “Don't make me get the handcuffs out again.”
Now that you have to laugh at. If he thinks it's too early to be on your phone, it's definitely too early for that
He smirks, opening his eye just a sliver, and the hand on your stomach begins to rub soft circles. “Is that so?” he taunts, his touch sneakily edging downwards. And when he slips beneath the band of your shorts, well…
Let's just say you're not leaving that bed anytime soon
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon riley#john mactavish#kyle garrick#john price#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2
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[Touchy feely] [tf141 headcanons]
(Romantic impied Task force 141 boys x gender neutral!reader headcanons :))
Summary: Being the sweetheart of the task force means the boys are not shy about the fact that they're all simps and always want some sort of contact with you at all times.
Consists of romantic/suggestive headcanons for each of the guys and little things they do with you <3
Words: about 1.5k (this was supposed to be short, whoops)
Warnings/Info: Can be read separately but it is intended that they all harbor feelings for you at the same time, possibly out of character for everyone, some swearing, the guys manhandle you, as always, let me know if I miss something!
Thinking about how each of the boys is so touchy with you, it doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, they're shameless.
Other units and teams who will sometimes share the base with 141 know better than to ask questions or directly say anything to one of the guys or you for that matter. Not that they could anyway, seeing as you always have at least one of them attached to your hip.
Price:
Anyone who walks into Price's office late at night to turn something in is used to seeing you next to the Captain on the little dingy loveseat he has in there.
John is usually smoking a cigar, taking care to not blow smoke your way while your head is resting on his shoulder. Your eyes closed as you hum at his words. It's terribly domestic for a military base.
John likes to gently play with your hair while he speaks about missions he's been on, always somehow trying to braid despite not knowing how to for jack shit, whether it because it's you or just the mindless motion, he's not willing to say.
John will usually walk you back to your room after dinner or time in his office unless he's swamped with work.
A small hand on the small of your back while he leads you. It's always a respectable touch, though he tucks you into his side, nodding at everyone you may pass.
If you're comfortable with it, he likes to press a kiss to your head, smiling that goofy ass smile, and tells you to get a good night's rest.
He lets you help him trim up his beard, he won't let you do all of it but he likes the closeness of it, him sitting down while you gently shape it up, tilting his head up and he tries his best to not stare directly at your chest.
The fact that he's letting you this close to his neck with a razor is a sign of trust, maybe small for others but for a man that doesn't drop his guard and doesn't truly trust others, it speaks volumes.
The first time he let you, you were barely putting any pressure and he grabbed your hand in his and showed you. "You're not gonna hurt me, put more force into it, yeah?"
Don't get me started on going out on walks in London with Price, he wraps you up in his beanie and some big leather jacket he has that dwarves you, helping you move through crowds by once again holding the small of your back, or taking your smaller hand in his. (He doesn't correct anyone if they mistake you as married)
He likes to kiss the back of your hand and laughs when it makes you blush and sputter out that his beard is scratchy.
Ghost:
Ghost is a subtle one, he won't actively reach for you or your hand but he does have some part of him against you most times.
Whether it be his leg, arm, or thigh, anything works. A normal place yall will be seen together is in the dining hall, you've both learned to ignore the stares from everyone else.
Simon never eats there, just sits with you until you're finished and then you both move on to either his quarters or somewhere else so he can peel his mask up to eat a bit.
However, while you're eating and telling him about anything under the sun, he'll lean over and wipe some crumbs off of your mouth with his thumb softly, which again, you're used to so okay whatever but Recruits always are taken aback in their seats.
Ghost's reflexes kick into overdrive with you. His hand going to cover a corner of a table 9/10 times before you completely wreck your shit, but when he does miss (sometimes on purpose).
He'll bring a hand up to rub at your head for you, chuckling under his breath before cooing down at you "That hurt pretty? Sure look like it did."
Whenever you two specifically are paired onto a mission, doesn't matter if any of the guys complain, he will share a cot/tent with you. He claims he runs the hottest (he doesn't, it's Johnny but he will not lose on this) and can keep your body the warmest.
He pretty much lugs you on top of him and wraps his arms around your waist, he'll press a hand against your head if you keep fidgeting, rasping at you to go to sleep. He takes great pride in the fact that you're usually out like a light very shortly.
I've said it once and I'll say it again, Ghost likes to hook a finger into your body straps and pull it really hard and let it smack you to get your attention if you're not actively paying attention to him, he'll soothe the area but he's smirking behind that fucking mask.
On that note, he definitely does the "You got something right here." And points at your chest and immediately pull up to flick your nose hard as fuck, he KNOWS his own strength but sometimes your eyes water and he immediately feels bad.
Ghost rests his head on your chest a lot, he finds your heartbeat to be soothing and reassuring, also grunts if you don't wrap your arms around him in return, bro literally shoves his head into you and groans
This is a grown man but it's cute so you let it slide bc he'll never ask for it outright, he just assumes you'll cradle his head.
Soap:
Johnny is the most shameless motherfucker here, I'm talking about draping himself over you, grabbing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair, kissing you dangerously close to your lips (it drives the others mad), he's the most unapologetic about it and will gloat to the others.
Manhandler #1, isn't above grabbing you by your hips and picking you up to move you somewhere, he's literally gone and grabbed you from some rookies side to come stand next to him with a smile and you're just so used to it that you just shrug and go along with it. (He gets slightly jealous, why would you stand next to some random ass dude and not him??)
Throws you over his shoulder, or likes you to cling to his front or his back and just carries you, he says it's a comfortable weight. If you ever dare say you're too heavy, he's gonna go to the gym and work out even more to PROVE to you that he simply doesn't care, he will carry you.
Extremely bad habit of sneaking into your room to fall asleep with you, Price has come into your room many times to see Soap sprawled on top of you, he's drooling and snoring and you're knocked the fuck out (he's like a glorified weighted blanket).
I've touched on this before but he only wants you to cut his hair for him, yeah he can go to the barber on base but he much prefers you and loves it when you scratch at his scalp. He also likes to just have his head in between your thighs but that's something else for another time-
Soap specifically slings you over his shoulder a lot, especially off base where he truly doesn't have any fucks to give.
You're not going to bed because you have other work?? Too bad, shoulder time you go. You're not willing to get up and make yourself food? Good thing he's here, either pick what you want from the kitchen or throw some clothes on bc he IS dragging you out of the house.
Johnny likes to draw on you a lot, it ranges from scribbles, to sometimes his name if he's feeling cheeky (he's drawn it on your thigh before and you didn't notice until Gaz shot you a look), to intricate drawings of whatever he can think whether it be a landscape or an animal.
He always holds you steady and it isn't uncommon for your limbs to fall asleep but it's worth it, if only to see him smile.
Gaz:
Gaz is probably the most secretly clingy person out of the four, he CAN function without your touch but does he PREFER to? No.
His first instinct in any situation is to grab you and shield you, he's the fastest of the four so his body moves without thinking and it's saved you more times than any of you would like to count.
The one mission where you both fell out of a moving truck, he tucked your body into his despite it costing him his shoulder popping out of the socket, you couldn't help but freak out while Ghost moved to pop it back into place.
"Why the fuck would you do that? Look at your arm!" "It's nothing." "Garrick what the fuck-"
When you're out anywhere off base, he's holding your hand, good luck trying to pull away bc he is not letting go. Too bad so sad, resign to your fate.
I think Gaz is definitely good at dancing, at least with you and when the right music is on, you cannot tell me this man wouldn't twirl you around and shit-fight me on it. He'll even lift you off your feet, laughing when you scramble to grab at his shoulders.
He goes stark still if you rest your head on his shoulder, not because he's nervous but because he's worried about waking you up when he knows you deserve a rest.
He'll usually wrap his arm around your shoulder to hold you in place so the heli ride doesn't jostle you so much, gentleness rubbing his knuckles along your arm to soothe you.
Gaz is the one who holds you when you have nightmares, on rare occasions when Soap isn't in your room and you just need to be held with no talking, you always without thinking find yourself in Kyle's room, his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucks your head under his chin, no questions asked.
He'll maybe hum a tune to help you relax but other than that, he lets you lead the way.
#im so tired oh my god#i hope yall enjoy kissing yall on the forehead#ghost <3#soap <3#price <3#gaz <3#kayla writes <3#call of duty#call of duty x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#john price x reader#john mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#john price#gender neutral reader#john soap mactavish#john mactavish#call of duty headcanons
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