John Soap Mactavish - Blog Posts

Tf 141 with an s/o who loves fiber arts!

Word count= roughly 1,750

Warnings: No! Just fluff with the lads :) Enjoy (but inly if you wanna)!!!

Kyle, who really never thought that knitting would be this hard, considering how much you raved about it keeping you both calm and properly stimulated. Now, he sits by your side on the living room floor, shakily holding two bamboo needles in his hands and trying to hold the "working yarn" (the yarn attached to the ball, apparently) the right way as you tenderly lecture him for being a dunce. "No, baby, you need to get through the stitch first before you yarn over-" Your voice is so pretty like that, trying to steer him from making another weird-looking hole for no real reason, but Kyle just whines again as you take the swatch into your own hands, finish off the whole row like some magic creature of the yarn and thread.

"You said that this was supposed to be easy, luvie." He whines into the crook of your neck, having loosely wound himself around your side as you showed him exactly what to do for the fourth time this hour. Some part of him loves the unfailing tenderness, the softness of your voice and the way you poorly hide the fact that you're laughing at him under your breath. "Sorry, i just thought-" There's a snort from your lips as giggles envelop you, your smile turns wide. Kyle's heart melts a little in his chest "I just thought you'd be better at this-"

Kyle gasps in mock offense, before pushing the needles to the floor, already planning his revenge for that little slight. "Say that one more time, and I'll give yer little magic sticks to my nieces and tell 'em they're swords." He revels in the shocked gasp you give, and grins as you bat him upside the head. "Hah, funny man. Try." Your voice is quieter, a little bit more dangerous, just daring him to do that very thing. Kyle saves his own ass by pecking your cheek, gently taking your hands into his own. "I wouldn't, babes, you know I wouldn't." There's not a modicum of lie in that statement. Kyle knows that the sweetest ones are the most terrifying, and his mum would never let him hear the end of it if he lost you. "Yeah, I do know you wouldn't, jus' wanted to mess with you." It's Kyle's turn to gasp now, but he smiles when you kiss his cheek in return, leans into you like a lapdog despite himself. Tonight's going to be good, and he knows it.

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Johnny, who remarkably managed very, very well with embroidery. You had been so happy to see him, posted on the couch next to you, working away at the hoop, having only very few questions on how he should hold the thing, if the tension you kept talking about was a little bit off. For an hour, maybe two, it was lovely. Simple silence as you leaned up on his shoulder, working a larger project as the Scot figured out exactly what he was doing on his own. Deft hands, you watched him pick apart the small knots in the thread without issue. It flooded your heart with pride. "Are you finally going to let me see the thing, Johnny?" You questioned playfully, trying to straighten your spine to get a peek before there's a big hand shoved over your eyes, and a thick accent chiding you for your gall. "No!" He squawks, you just know that he relishes in not letting you see, riling you up through your own curiosity, because Johnny is, at his core, a cheeky little shit. "Ye gotta wait, mo leannan, ye cannae jus' peek like that!" It draws a grumble from your lips, but you close your eyes, gently take hold of his wrist in your hand and nod, giving a softer affirmation before he coos at you. "Don' worry, it's almost done anyway." He soothes you with a soft peck to your temple, and just like that, you're calm again, all heart-eyed and dumb with love, relaxed. It's another thirty minutes before the finished product is tenderly set into your lap, and you gasp in surprise before seeing it. It's... stupid. An old sketch of his that really had amused him all too much, one of you from a picture at a night out (you had tripped on a root and he managed to get a picture of your face mid-fall) that he had always seemed too damn enamored with. "Oh my god." You press your hand to your face in shame, already feeling ridiculous before Johnny laughs brightly, pressed a firm, wet kiss to your cheek. "You look lovely! Don't ye? I think you look lovely." It's a sweet sentiment, enough to endear you to the terrible, terrible thing that your fiancé has chosen to immortalize and drive a too-fond sigh from your lips. "You're lucky that I love you." You grumble, giving Johnny a half-hearted glare before he swoops in to sweetly kiss your lips, because he really does know you too well. "Aye, I really am" He doesn't miss a beat, still grinning like an idiot. It makes your chest soften, your guts go mushy and fluttery. "Don't be coy, MacTavish." You reprimand. He grins, and kisses you again for good measure.

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Simon, who really didn't think this would be necessary, but here he is, sitting next to you cross-legged on the floor with the hook in hand. "Like this, right?" He speaks gruffly, and loosens his posture for you to peek over his shoulder. He feels the ghost (pun intended) of a smile pulling up at his lips when he hears your affirmative hum. "Yeah. You're doing real good, honey," Your voice wafts into his ear so nicely, floods his mind so deliciously, the only person that Simon knew he would always listen to, his angel right here on Earth. "Out of curiosity, have you ever done this before?" When you finish your question, Simon does let that smile grow on his face, lets the warmth flood into the cavity of his chest, seep into the crevices of his soul, heal the damage bit by bit. Simon leans his head on yours, and takes in a breath. The truth was, he had. One night, after a particular date when you had entirely infodumped a current project to him, he had done a little research. Then, promptly after, learned to crochet, even if it was only the basics. It paid off now, with you on his arm and impressed with his skill. "Nah. Maybe I'm just good at this, hm?" He denies that, shuffles his cheek closer into yours, soaking up the warmth that you radiate, relishes in the soft chuckle that you give. "Mmh, maybe you're gonna be even better than me, is that your plan?" Your teasing is soft, given out of affection. It makes Simon smile, makes him relieved that he's once again managed to make sure that a date went well. "No. Just pick things up fast." The mood really is dead in the water, but Simon really loves that you seem to thrive in that, that you still peck his cheek anyway despite him practically having negative game. "Smartass." You chirp at him, setting down your own piece on the floor before wholesale resting your head on Simon's shoulder. He fights a chuckle. "Better than being a dumbass, isn't it?" The joke wasn't his (he stole it from Johnny), but when you laughed, Simon knew it was well worth it anyway.

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John, who was more than content to help you work on another big project of yours. He was endlessly proud of you, how wonderfully you worked on those commissions and how perfect they always looked when you finally shipped them off. But disaster always strikes at one time or another, and the cat is often the cause of that. After maybe an hour of soothing his panicking partner, John had you wrapped up in a blanket in the corner of your own office, gently taking the needle into his own hands to sew the small tear in the fabric back together as you sniffled a little bit. Were you more than skilled enough to fix this issue yourself? Yes. But John felt particularly loving lately, wanted to make sure that his lovely, hyper-competent partner knew that they could rely on him. Because they always could. When he speaks, its gently, glancing up from the fabric in his hands to look into your eyes, still a little bit bloodshot from the tears. "Don't worry yourself, sweetheart. My mother didn't raise a man who doesn't know how to do repairs." The comfort was genuine, both an assurance of his skill and a statement that you could just lay back, let him take the reins for once and allow you to calm down a little bit. "But-" you sniffle, wipe at your nose with a tissue, and John doesn't allow you to question this. "Nope. None of that self-doubt, yer therapist already said that's bad, didn't she?" You nod, John watches your cheeks flush a bit simply because he remembered, that he cared enough to stow that away in the back corners of his brain. Oh, if only you knew how much he adores you, your little heart would blow up. "I can't just let you do my work for me, John, that's not right." The small rebuttal makes him pause in the middle of a stitch, gently set the needle down. His darling had the morals of a saint, why was he surprised by that? "Who said that I was doing your work? Maybe I'm just your guest of honor, sweetness." John speaks softly, shoots you a cocky grin that finally brings a smile back onto your face. "Yeah, yeah, alright," He smiles as you stand, wraps a strong arm around your midsection as you tuck yourself into his side, calming all of the way back down, turning back into the wonderful, sweet, bordering perfect partner returning to form once more. "That means that you have to sign it, too, you know." You tease in return as John nervously swallows, knowing damn well he is hopeless to ever replicate the pure beauty that is your signature on professional pieces. "Well, I'm not so sure about that-" He uselessly stutters to the joke, feeling his own cheeks heat up more than a little bit at the invitation. "Oh, don't be like that, I could teach you." Now that makes Price melt.

Stray dog (Part 2)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Sorry it took me quite long lmao TToTT School and work deadlines are killin' me.

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and refuses to open up to 141. Soap found out something horrible going on with him and told Ghost about it.

Word count: 1910

Warnings: Smoking. Mention of attempts to self-h@rm.

The next morning you woke up with a throbbing headache. It was so bad that you felt like hundreds of needles were jabbed into your eye sockets and every time you blinked, those needles plunged into your brain, sending a sharp and chilling pain to the crown of your head. This was by no means a strange occurrence for you though, given the fact that every night the base celebrated a party you always indulged in this self-sabotaging habit. 

Still, no matter how bad the situation was, you still had training to attend to, tasks to get done, reports to compile, and a miserable life to live. You turned your head to look at the clock, silently praying that it wasn’t too late. 

It was 13:00 in the afternoon already. 

“Shit!” You threw an arm over your forehead. Nice, you missed the morning training session. It was your responsibility today to train the new recruits and now you messed up the whole Task Force’s schedule once again just because you could not handle your pathetic emotions properly. The thoughts of giving up flooded your mind yet again since it was no use in waking up anyway, it was too late to do anything useful. The other team members were already aware of how irresponsible you were as you continuously failed to be on time for training the newbies. And what about the newbies’ impression of you? Probably an unreliable man who was no longer fit to be a member of a special Task Force that was particularly famous for its efficiency. Or maybe you were never fit to be one to begin with. 

Why didn’t the others wake you up? You had worked here long enough to know how scary and irritated Ghost could get when people missed his training session. There were even times when he immediately had the unpunctual soldiers pack their things and get sent to another department because he couldn’t fuckin’ stand people disrespecting his schedule. 

“Maybe they forget about my existence. Maybe I wasn’t that big of a part of this Task Force.” You mumbled to yourself, trying to pull your tired body out of the heavy blanket. As much as you wanted to give up, the desire to be important to someone, something, or some organization, …just anything, urged you to wake up and keep trying. You wanted yourself to be seen.

Upon opening the door of your stuffy room, you instinctively covered your eyes as they were attacked by rays of blinding sunlight. Your room was too dark and gloomy, doors and windows tightly shut all day and night, no wonder you would react so unfavorably to the bright sunlight that is often associated with positive moods by most people. 

The base was unusually quiet. You didn’t meet a single soul on your way to the kitchen to fill your hungry stomach. No Soap cracking stupid jokes with his heavy Scottish accent and laughing loudly to them himself, no Gaz cursing at his jokes, no Roach laughing at the two dumb manchildren, no Price sighing and telling them to at least be less raucous. You tried to shrug the nasty nagging feelings off, but it soon became unbearable when you walked into the kitchen and saw all the dirty dishes in the sink. 

“They have finished their lunch.” And they had it without you. The people you considered to be your own family, much closer than the biological family that you had cut all contact with, didn’t wake you up from your drunken sleep, totally forgot your existence, and enjoyed a meal together like there wasn’t anything missing. You knew damn well that you were overexaggerating the seriousness of the situation, but you just couldn’t help it. 

‘What am I to them?’ That question kept spiraling inside your brain, worsening the headache that you were already having. In a brief second, all the nagging feelings were anthropomorphized into a disgusting creature with multiple heads and mouths by your ailed mind, shrilly screaming out your deepest thoughts that were fraught with insecurities. Your legs were rendered weak and you collapsed on the floor. Supporting your weakened body with all four limbs, you took heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

A few minutes later, you managed to put yourself together enough to stand up and get out of the base, on the way you didn’t forget to grab a pack of cigarettes. You felt stupid to resort to nicotine as a way to fight against all those feelings, but you didn’t know a better way. There were times when things were so bad that you had no energy left to hide your conditions from your teammates, and Price was concerned. He used to have you talk to some therapists, and not surprisingly to you at all, they could not handle you for long. No one ever could. 

You were now standing in the parking lot with a cigarette in your mouth. You sighed, clearly satisfied with how strongly its bitter taste stimulated your taste buds. When you first arrived here as the newest member of Task Force 141, Soap and Gaz always joked that you’d become Price’s smoking buddy, but that did not happen. The image of you standing with Price awkwardly because you two couldn’t find a mutual topic for a conversation made you feel too uncomfortable to even try, so you kept avoiding the older man or pretending to not hear his offer until he just stopped inviting you. It was so obvious that the men wanted to get closer to you, they wanted to earn your trust, to make you feel at home and be yourself among them, yet you kept pushing them away. And now perhaps they had stopped trying all together. It was not their fault. It was yours. 

But why it was so painful? You were supposed to feel relieved that they had given up so that you didn’t have to blame yourself every time you turned their kind offer down and saw the sadness drawn on their faces. ‘Why do I keep feeling like shit no matter what I do?’

Feeling that the intense emotions that were barely suppressed by the nicotine started to get out of hand again, you cupped your head with both hands, the half-burning cigarette fell to the ground. Suddenly, your eyes caught the red burning tip of it, together with how the paper wrapping around the nicotine was slowly burnt to black. At that very moment, a dark but familiar thought popped up in your mind. You bowed down to pick up the cigarette, blankly staring at it resting between the two fingers of your right hand. Then, your eyes turned to your left hand, examining your spotty lower arm. It was full of the small round scars that were caused by burning your arms with the burning tip of a cigarette. You had noticed Ghost looked at these scars of yours many times; luckily he never asked about them. The army was a place filled with people who had different background stories and bore numerous scars, so it wouldn’t be abnormal for you to have some that were a bit funny-shaped.

‘Should I do this again?’ 

Maybe you should. It helped with the emotions. Well, temporarily, but that was good enough.

Just as you were about to press the burning tip into your lower left arm, someone threw their whole weight into you. You were hugged by two strong arms and the cigarette was again dropped to the ground.

“There you are! I’ve been finding you everywhere!” It was the Scot man. “Are you smoking? Gosh, I hate this smell! Price’s cigars are much better!”

‘The ones that smell good are never bitter enough.’ You thought to yourself.

“Have you had lunch, pretty boy?” Soap pinched your dumbfounded face.

“Not yet.”

“What? Unbelievable! Get to the kitchen with me right now, Sergeant.” The man literally manhandled you straight from the parking lot into the base, leaving you no time to object.

As you two arrived at your destination, Ghost was already sitting there, sipping some coffee. Soap forced you to sit down right next to him while he proceeded to walk to the fridge and pulled out a dish, putting it inside the microwave oven. 

“Here you are, babyboy~” He put the hot meal in front of you. You chose to ignore the pet name and his flirtatious voice simply because he had started doing it to you ever since you start working here. It was just one of his signature thing, you should not fall for it and mistake it as a sign of interest that could develop into romantic feelings. 

“Thanks, Soap.”

“Aw, don’t be so all worked up and formal, babyboy. Ya’ welcome~”

Silence fell over the three of you, until you just felt so awkward that you had to speak up, “So… how was this morning?”

“It was fine. Ghost stepped in your place and took care of the training.” Soap replied.

You carefully glanced at Ghost, just to find that the man already looked at you, which made you tremble slightly. The skull mask on his face made him too difficult to read, you couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or he just gave up on expecting something greater from you. 

Soap laughed at your reactions, “It’s okay. You were drunk so Price agreed to let you sleep. Also, Ghost volunteered to help you with the training so he probably doesn’t hold a grudge. Am I right, Ghostie?”

The masked man didn’t answer; instead, he turned back to his cup of coffee.

You quickly finished your meal and left, saying that you should do training by yourself. The truth was you couldn’t stay there any longer, you didn’t want to disturb Ghost and Soap’s rare peaceful time together. You had already made too terrible an impression on Ghost, it’s best that you did not mess up again. As a result, you also missed their conversation. It was not intended for you to listen to anyway.

“You’re right. He did it.” Soap’s voice was solemn, with no sign of flirt or unseriousness like a few minutes before.

“You mean the scars?” Ghost looked up at him from the cup.

“Yeah, the round scar marks that you’ve told me many times.”

“It was just my guess. How do you know he really did it?”

“I found him in the parking lot. He was holding a burning cigarette and about to press it into his left arm.” 

A few minutes of silence passed until Ghost spoke up, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“I asked Price about his past, I know it’s a nosy thing to do, but I wanted to help. Unfortunately, Price knows nothing either. Y/n… the boy never opens up to us.”

The two men sat quietly, exchanging worried looks with each other. If only you could know how much they cared for you, maybe you would find it easier to accept their love and help. Yet, even if they told you, even if they desperately showed you so many times that they cared and loved you so much, would your brain allow your heart to welcome them just like how it used to welcome other people you had met earlier in your life, the ones who left you wounded and made you the way you were today? 

If someone asked you that question, you’d just offer them a weak smile and simply say: “No”. You're now too tired to hold on to any crumbles of hope left in your broken soul. You'd like to give up.

to be continued i guess :")

Taglist: @aphroditeslovr @prestigeghoul @edgyboi10000 @c0nny3917 @peter-the-pan @lovecats123451

Ok, you all know the book “The Outsiders” right? Right. And I’ve been having an angst scene in my head with Ghost and Soap with this one quote. “Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone.”. Now what if Soap dies or something and Ghost goes fucking 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 and absolutely loses it. He just loses himself and nothing is helping. I welcome you all to this amazing writing prompt!

Saw this and absolutely cackled

Gaming with Soap would go like this 😭

❥ What i think y/n would have on her phone (as a coquette)

❥ Her wallpaper

❥ her notes

❥ her phonecase and her instagram

likes n reblogs r appreciated !! 💗

Simon Ghost Riley links !

I lowkey haven’t been working on the suguru story, so why not give some Simon Ghost Riley links??🍓

- you guys should definitely join my discord server, I’ll be updating about my stories and giving spoilers on there, and I’ll make bots based off my stories n shit on character ai if the majority of yall use it(i know yall do don't play). PLEASE YALL, I NEED TO PROMOTE MY DISCORD SO BADLY.

click the link or no more stories😙 (Im so deadass.) also everyone (me and two other people aside from the bots) are harmless as shit, i promise

bouncing on his dick while he’s gaming.

letting Johnny finally fuck you after finding out he had a crush on you, on one condition, he can’t have your pussy but he can take your ass.

watching you tease Johnny because he wanted to cum, though Johnny knows your Simon’s girl.

putting you in a mating press to show you whose girl you are.

putting Johnny on a leash as he fucks you while he goes to handle some business.

him fucking up into you while you're riding him

him and soap taking turns (m reader)

[A concept for a future CoD fic]

"Do you think we fall in love in every universe?"

The question jolts him awake, eyebrows rising as he peers at you in the darkness.

"I don't know," He admits. "I've never thought about things like that."

You frown, reaching out to lightly run your fingers over his face.

"What if we-"

[Do you have a favorite AU?]

John Price x Reader

Simon "Ghost" Riley doesn't have a family, not one that anyone knows about. But an unexpected event has him leaving base for the first time in a long time.

"We could all use a little break."

If only John knew that he'd end up wrapped around you.

Wow wow wow

Can you believe I wrote this in a month? 2023 was a weirdly great time for me productivity-wise

mdni

i saw a post talking about soap being an actual loser who’s never got any action in his life. growing up catholic and then serving in the military he’s never had any actual experience. he compensates by chatting up birds and lying about how experienced he is. he radiates arrogance when he’s actually desperate to be in between a pretty birds thighs for once.

so when he meets you at the pub and you fall for his lies and the both of you end up on your couch. your on top of him rutting against his jeans, whimpering against his kisses, and he feels like his on cloud nine. and then he feels himself getting close already and he wants to shoot himself in the leg right there.

“bonnie.. ‘old on—“ and then his hands are gripping your hips so tight and the most guttural groan leaves his lips, head thrown back against the back of the couch, and he’s panting like a dog. and then you have the nerve to giggle which makes his neck heat up in embarrassment.

“tsk, naughty boy.” you purred, hand going to curl at the base of his neck, gripping his hair and pushing his lips to yours again. that’s when johnny felt a wire switch inside his brain and he felt himself chubbing up again.

NEEDED this

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

☆☆☆ Reqs open! ☆☆☆

Alpha!Soap who couldn't stand how often your first alpha was neglecting you so Ghost and him spoke the night before on how they wanted you...but would you want them?

Alpha!Ghost hearing from your shitty alpha that you were in heat. Alone. Bloody bastard.

Alpha!Soap who went into your room first, to help break your oh so stubborn walls down.

Alpha!Soap who pushed you down onto the bed so gently just to get you undressed and actually had to ask how the hell you weren't being taken care of from how damn good you looked.

Alpha!Ghost who ended up joining a little after due to wanting a shower first, letting you nuzzle your face into his boxers that had outlined his hard erection.

Alpha!Soap taking you in doggy so you had full ability to also touch, and eventually choke on Ghosts own cock.

Alpha!Ghost laughing as you swatted his hand away to hold his knot so you couldn't take all.

Alpha!Soap loving each minute on watching and fucking your sweet ass.

Both men going to brain malfunctions when your heat had you begging for their pups. To be oh so full of their babies.

Alpha!Ghost praising you, "Take his knot then, doll." "Be a good boy and you'll get filled with our pups. You'd be treated so well and made happy." "Taking his cock so well, little one."

Alpha!Soap panting like a bitch as he kept trying and failing to knot your pretty ass. "Damn luv, s'tight." "Relax f'me. I wanna knot my pretty baby."

Alpha!Soap mewling like a whore when his knot finally does lock into that pretty ass so he can full you up. You'd moan but your mouth was too busy sucking Ghosts thick cock.

Alpha!Ghost prying your mouth off so he could keep his cum all for your pretty boy womb.

Alpha!Ghost getting up to switch places with Soap, but this time, he wanted you on your back. So you had your head in Soaps lap as Ghost jerked your pretty little omega cock.

Alpha!Soap letting you suck on his fingers while Ghost stretched you out a little more with his own fingers so you could accommodate his big cock.

Alpha!Ghost pressing on your tummy bulge from how deep he was inside your boy cunt. He was blissed out from how tight you were, feeling your gummy walls sucking him in some more.

Alpha!Soap praising you and Ghost, "Look how well he takes you, luv." "Don't his cock feel so good inside you?" You swear you're seeing stars from having such two good alphas you can barely understand what's coming out your mouth besides begging for them to get you pregnant.

Alpha!Ghost knotting you to hell, which makes you moan loudly, but not caring if your old ex-alpha hears it. You'd definitely be getting pregnant for sure.

Both men laying with you in between with soft promises to never let you be unhappy again, and how they'll be the best partners and how you three would be great dad's.

🧼🩷

I finally finished the Soap card ! Not completely satisfied with the background but I'm gonna leave it as that or it'll end up being a WIP forever

“are you okay” HOW CAN I BE OKAY IF MY FAVOURTIE SCOTTISH MAN WITH A WEIRD MOHAWK AND FUNNY FACE IS DEAD AND DIED IN THE WORST BUILD UP POSSIBLE

Nov. 21. 2023

The thief that only borrows in a sea with out the shark, But who protects the shadow from the dark?

⚠️CW: SUGGESTIVE ART⚠️

I’m so in love w Soap

that's the main thing 🙂‍↕️🥰

Today in the shower I was thinking about how absolutely insane soap would be in a sleeping beauty scenario

Meeting you at the celebration of your birth, when he’s just a little boy himself. Markedly unimpressed. And yet, when you’re spirited away to live with your fairies— he feels strangely robbed.

He chases a fulfillment that cannot come to pass. A soldier in many battles, many quests under his belt, all in pursuit of purpose. A stray arrow tucks itself into his skull, and the emptiness grows more cavernous and hungry.

Then, to see a gorgeous thing like you dancing with his cloak, reflected crisp and clear in the pond water of the glen… he’s just a man. Maybe something less, actually. But even if he is a beast, doesn’t he deserve to live?

He delights in how you nearly scream when he pulls you against him.

“Ah’m no stranger, bonnie. Ye said yerself, nae? We met before— jus’ in yer dreams, hen.”

He has half a mind (in more ways than one) to pin you to the forest floor against your precious wildflowers and ravage you senseless, but he’s able to restrain himself when you say you want to see him again. Tomorrow, in the same place. He likes this little game of courting— the wait is bitter, but the fruit is sweet, isn’t it?

And he felt it, when he was with you. The pinpricks of a doll maker’s needle gliding between his ribs. Suturing the tear left in his chest. He’s done being rearranged inside. He’s ready to be put back together.

Thus, the lengths to which he goes to find you. The thorns that bruise and tear, the dracofire scorching his shield.

He’s going to kiss the sleeping princess if it’s the last thing he does.

It’s like lookin’ into the ocean~

Cowards

beach day💀🧼

check out my twitter: https://twitter.com/NoB0NSAI 💚💚💚

Don't mind me requesting again cuz your writing is good-

Anyway I need some older male reader that is team GHOST from call of duty ghosts and his team is fucking chaotic like they be almost killing them self's and one of them do stabby another like blowing shit up while male reader don't get enough sleep and be a dad on his team but in the end they get the job done

I just want 141 to meet male readers team during a mission and all of them see his team jumping out a window lol

I just need some chaotic shit

Ghost Soldier!Male Reader + Task Force 141

WARNING: INCREDIBLY CRINGE WRITING

While Captain Y/n is on a mission with his team, they are interrupted...

What matters most though is if they are friend or foe...

Honestly, trying to put a whole scenario like this together was fun and challenging at the same time but worth it @gamersansblog !!!

So I hope you enjoy!

°

°

°

"Midnight, Hawk, do either of you have eyes on the target yet?" Y/n asked as he let his eyes sweep over the contents in the room. Falcon followed behind him, silently with his gun raised, clearing the room himself before rejoining Y/n's side.

"No sir, not yet," Midnight's heavy feminine voice replied through the radio.

"Just a whole bunch of shit in here, Captain, unless..." Hawk drawed out slowly.

Y/n knew that tone and quickly tried to intervene, "Hawk, I swear if do what I think..."

"Calm down, sir. Why don't we just turn this place inside out?"

"Hawk..." Falcon warned from beside Y/n as he watched his Captain let out a long sigh in front of him.

"Just a little demolition, sir. That's all... it's not like anyone knows we're here anyway. With the guards dead, I doubt we'll be interrupted, " Y/n could have swore he aged faster as he listened to Hawk's suggestion.

Honestly, Y/n was too tired for this shit. It felt like he was baby sitting 3 kids and he couldn't help but wonder if other groups dealt with the same thing.

There mission was simple, take out the guards, retrieve the files, and get out. Really simple shit. Y/n could do it in his sleep if he wanted too. But noooo, the Higher Ups just had to say his team needed to be with him for this operation.

Plus, Y/n doubted that Falcon could deal with all of them if Y/n left him alone with Midnight and Hawk. So he was forced to bring his crazy pyromaniac of a man, the little assassin that would kill just about anything even when Y/n told her not to, and his only good child.

God, being a father of a Ghost Team was hard.

But even so, Y/n wouldn't change it for the world. His team was just about the best thing that ever happened to him and his career. They were his second chance, his redemption. His everything...

"Alright, Hawk, set up those explosives and see if you can find anything. Midnight, watch his back. Falcon and I are gonna make our way over there..." Y/n commanded.

"Understood, sir," and in the background, he could hear Hawk's sinister little giggle and shook his head at his soldier's antics.

"You sure this is the best idea, sir?" Falcon looked worried about this and Y/n didn't blame him for it. They both knew Hawk could go too far when it came to blowing up things.

Last time they left him alone, half of a building managed to disappear.

Y/n shook his head at the thought, not wanting to even remember that mission again.

When he caught sight of Midnight, the woman was throwing her knives at some random crate she was using as target practice.

"Midnight, Y/n told you to stop doing that. You're gonna mess up your knives and then cry about needing to get new ones," Falcon stressed.

Midnight stuck her tongue out at the man and Y/n chuckled.

"Come on Captain tell her!" Falcon pleaded.

Y/n ignored it and looked towards Hawk.

"You ready Hawk?"

"Annnnnd FINISHED!" the man exclaimed happily as he put the last finishing touches on the bomb.

"Good... get ready to...the hell is that sound?" Y/n turned to see a drone watching them outside the window.

"Shit... someone else is here... we're leaving NOW!" Y/n yelled as he made his way to the windows with their repel gear.

"WHO THE HELL ARE THEY?!" Midnight bellowed next to him.

"Doesn't matter! Hawk on my signal you blow this place to hell!"

"What about the files?!" Hawk asked.

"The Captain and I got them on our way to you two! Now hurry your ass up and get ready to repel!" Falcon hollered at him, quickly putting his gear on.

Once they were ready, Y/n didn't take the chance of the enemy spotting them from the window. If anything, these guys were definitely professionals and had yet to show themselves but it didn't bother Y/n one bit. He knew his team was just as good.

So, he turned to the other window, pulling out his P226 and aiming it at the window.

"Hawk, you remember that scene from Fast and Furious where they jumped from building to building?" Y/n asked.

"Yeah, but we don't have a supercar, sir!"

"Well we can try!" Y/n began to run towards the window, shooting it multiple times until to burst into glass shards and they all jumped out.

"NOW HAWK!"

Y/n heard that lovely sound of the explosion going off behind him as they landed on the roof.

"Hell yeah!" Hawk whooped from beside him.

"We can celebrate later...we still need to find who else is here."

Y/n turned to Midnight first.

"I got an idea..."

"Sir?" She tilted her head in curiosity.

"You see anyone even hostile take them out. Hawk fill this place with traps, take Falcon with you."

Hawk nodded and tapped Falcon's arm before leading them away from Y/n and Midnight.

"Alright, let's go see who the hell were dealing with..."

Midnight sent Y/n a smirk as Y/n moved to take point and as they set out to find the intruders.

It didn't take long when they both heard a cry that only Hawk could make and quickly ran towards his yells. Y/n told Midnight to hide the in the grass, dropping into the dirt himself and aiming his rifle at the newfound men that had Hawk and Falcon in their custody.

He heard the gruff British man's voice question who Hawk was working with, who their team was, but Hawk wasn't one to talk.

Y/n made sure personally that they would never talk. He put then through the same exact situation he had been in now. Cornered by the enemy but except this time not alone.

"Midnight, stay down unless shots are fired. Got it?"

She nodded at him before popping up out of the grass.

"I wouldn't move it I were you..."

The men all turned back to him, guns drawn on him while he held his Honey Badger tightly to his chest.

"Who the hell are you?" The man in the skull mask questioned.

Y/n gave him a look before turning back to the man with the fisher hat on.

"You plan on fishing for my soldiers..." he drawed off.

"Captain Price." He answered.

"Ah...I've heard of you... You and your little Task Force. What was it...141, right?"

"Ye now who the hell are you?" He watched the man's grip tighten on his own gun.

"Captain Y/n and you're going to give me back Hawk and Falcon now." Y/n demanded.

"How do I-" he was cut off by another voice going through his radio.

"Yeah but-... Are you sure, Laswell?"

Y/n looked up when he heard Kate's last name leave the older Brits lips.

"You familiar with Laswell?" Y/n asked as he watched the men untie Hawk and Falcon.

"Seems so...and it seems she knows you as well..." Price commented as he watched Hawk and Falcon walk back to Y/n's side.

"Sir, are you sure Laswell said they're green?" The dark skin man asked the Captian.

"I doubt Laswell would lie to us Gaz. That goes for you two as well," Price said, turning to the skull masked man and the slightly shorter man standing next to him.

"So that's a infamous Ghost...I thought he be taller," Hawk.

"He lots pretty damn tall to me, considering he's standing near shortstack over there..." Falcon said.

The shorter man sent him a glare, obviously hearing Falcon's comment, but before he could say anything, Ghost pulled him back.

"He's not worth it, Soap."

Y/n heard a Scottish accent come from the man as he watched the two talk.

"Oh, sir... You should probably tell-" Falcon was too late to warn him when Midnight sprang up from behind Ghost and Soap.

Y/n sent her the scariest death glare in history before the woman's knife even made it near the two men. Only then did Ghost realize Y/n was glaring but not at him and turned around only to see nothing there. When he turned back, there was now a third soldier standing near him that wasn't there.

"Who she?" He cocked his head towards her.

"Midnight." and he left it there.

Price turned to look at them apologetically before letting out a long sigh.

"Sorry about the mishaps, mates. Seems we got you mixed up with someone else, by the way... you know who blew up that building?"

"We did," Y/n said quickly, watching the man's face change to confusion.

"Why did you-"

"Sorry, but we're kinda on a tight schedule so we'll see yall again sometime soon yeah? Nice meeting you, Captain and your team. Lovely bunch, really! Sir, we have go to go." Falcon said as he pulled Y/n away, the man shaking his own head and chuckling himself, with the other two laughing.

"Kids am I right?" Y/n shouted as he sent a quick nod to the Captain before turning to greet his own team as they made their way towards exfil.

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-Guards

im on my König brainrot atm. What if a reader half a head smaller then König took him down? Like reader got into a bet with someone to spare with König and to get him to the ground and winning. How would König feel knowing the reader can take him down?

Hello @spookybreadbluebird !!!

I enjoyed this one a lot! It was very, different to write for me, especially the mini-fight scene...

But I do hope you enjoy it!

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König + Slightly Short!Male Reader

Y/n couldn't help but be pissed when he found himself on the sparring mat and König in front of him, looking away shyly but Y/n knew better than to underestimate his opponents.

König might have had the advantage with his size slightly, considering Y/n stood at 6'5, but it didn't matter when it came down to pure skill.

Sometimes he wondered why he ever let Soap convince him into a damn bet that was pointless at all...

It was a slow day in the 141 base when Soap had walked into his office, sweaty and tired as he sat down in some random chair. The man had just came from a training session as he took his time to regain his breathing before looking up to Y/n.

"That König, he sure is something... Feels like he was hitting me with bricks. I doubt anyone else can beat him aside from Ghost..."

Y/n let out a simple hum as he continued to work on his paperwork in front of him. The Sergeant’s face fell slightly before leaning back onto the chair more.

Y/n failed to notice the smirk on the Scottish man's face as he conjured up an idea.

"You know Y/n, I think König can even beat you too... Hell, I don't even think you could put him down if you tried."

Y/n fingers stopped dancing over the keyboard as he pushed himself away from his desk.

He sent a stern glare Soap's way, watching the man flinch in the process.

"You think I can't take down König, Sergeant?" he questioned, voice low and sinister.

"I bet you can't, sir," Soap responded looking him dead in the eyes.

"Just watch and learn," and with that Y/n got up and walked towards his door before making his way towards the sparring mats. Soap followed from behind like a lost puppy, grinning from ear to ear as he was eager to see what would be the outcome.

And now here Y/n was, facing König when he could have been finishing that paperwork that he needed to turn into Price later on.

Well, he was here now and to backing out would make him look weak, and Lieutenant Y/n had no intentions on doing so.

He took a deep breath before relaxing and finding himself into his main fighting stance, staring daggers into the Austrian's eyes.

He didn't say anything as some shouted "Go" from beside him and he was off.

König was quick to react to Y/n's right hook towards his jaw, dodging his head to the left slightly, thinking he was out of harms way.

Big mistake.

Y/n aimed a well-placed knee towards the Austrian's abdomen, knocking the wind out of the man before taking advantage of the small time to grab König's arms and throw the man's full weight over his head on the ground. From there, he put the man in an arm lock and pulled with enough force to not break it, but bask in the painful cries that feel from his lips.

Soon enough, König tapped and as Y/n let go of him.

Y/n looked back at König, watching the man sit there in shock at the loss, eyes wide underneath the sniper hood.

Y/n offered him a hand, watching the Austrian take it and pulled him into a standing position.

"How?" König asked in a small voice.

"You have a lot of openings in your form," Y/n explained, "And you're surprised easily."

König looked at Y/n in awe as he took in the words.

"I have work to do now," Y/n turned on his heel as he made his way back to his office.

Soap sat there gawking, guess he owned the Lieutenant something now.

König P.O.V.

He couldn't believe it.

Y/n made it look so easy.

So effortless.

So simple when he took him down.

He could only watch as the man carried himself back to his office like he didn't just kick someone ass with ease.

He said he was easy fo read... Was he really?

Was he that much of an open book?

After all his years of fighting, he had never been taken down so quickly.

Hell, if this were a real fight, he would have been death.

He could only stare at where the Lieutenant used to be in silence.

Perhaps, if he was lucky, he could learn a think or two from the man.

The next day, he found himself in front of Y/n's office, taking a deep breath before going in.

"Lieutenant Y/n."

"König, you need something?"

"Sir, after yesterday...would you," he hesitated, " would you be willing to train me?"

Y/n let out a low chuckle as he eyed him up and down.

"You sure you want this?"

He froze in place before grounding himself.

"Sir, I need this..."

Y/n sent him a smile.

"Sparring mats tonight, don't be late."

König stared before saluting him.

"Of course, sir."

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-Guards

The idea of Price without a beard is making ME uncomfortable-

Price comes into their shared safe house after he had to shave and all he gets is chaos. Soap's close to hyperventilating as he points at him. Gaz is screaming about stranger danger. Ghost looks like he's seen a ghost (pun intended), absolutely shell shocked

Shaving his beard was only practical for the under cover mission ahead of him considering it was his most recognizable feature. It was strange seeing himself without it. He looked so much younger. When he walked out of the bathroom after finishing, Laswell did a double take.

“Wow. Forgot what you looked like without a rat on your face.”

Price rolled his eyes, “Very funny.”

He kept feeling his face. He felt like he was missing a part of him without the beard.

“I’m sure you gave the boys a heads up, right?”

“No?”

Laswell gives him a look, “You really should tell them. Before you get stabbed or blown up or shot.”

“Kate, they’re not going to react like that.”

“John, you look like a whole different person. Have they ever seen you without the beard?”

“No? But that doesn’t matter! I don’t look that different. They’re smarter than that.”

Price ignored the face Laswell was giving him. He needed to head back to the safe house and get ready to leave for the mission. He had two meetings he needed to attend, as well. Laswell just wished him luck instead of a usual goodbye. He scoffed, she was overreacting. The boys were all grown men. They may be taken aback by his missing beard but nothing extreme was going to happen.

Price was tired by the time he got back to the safe house. It was late but he knew the boys were still up. Most likely waiting for him so they (Ghost) could lock up the house properly. He opened the door and all but slammed it shut, that way Ghost knew he was there and didn’t try to kill him. He took his hat off and hung it up, groaning as he headed to the kitchen.

Ghost was there, sipping some tea.

“Hey, Simon-“

Ghost looked at him and immediately dropped his mug. Price jumped as ceramic shards and tea went all over the floor.

“What the hell, Simon?!”

Ghost stared at him, eyes wide. Soap ran into the kitchen not long after the mug shattered.

“Si! Are you okay-“

Soap cut himself off when he saw Price. His mouth hung open and he lifted his hand and pointed at his face. Price instinctively rubbed his face.

“I shaved.”

Soap gasps and stumbles back towards Ghost. He only stops when his back hits the man’s chest. He kept trying to speak but nothing comprehensible came out. He started breathing heavy as Ghost stood there like a statue.

“Breathe, Johnny-!”

“What’s going on in here-“

Price turned as Gaz walked into the kitchen. The man took one look at him before he just screamed at the top of his lungs. Price winces as Gaz screams bloody murder, Soap dropping to the floor. Ghost continued to stand, unmoving.

“Bloody- I SHAVED! IT’S NOT THE BIG OF A DEAL!”

“YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’RE GOING TO ASK ME IF I HAVE TIME TO TALK ABOUT JESUS!”

It took two full hours to get the three to calmly sit in the living room. They stared at him as he explained the mission he was going on, not hearing a word he was saying. Price stopped talking when he phone started ringing. He winces when he sees it was Laswell.

“Kate, hey-“

“I told you.”

Price blinks, groaning when he remembered that Laswell had full access to the security cameras around the safe house. He rubs his face, missing his beard.

“Yea… you did.”

Getting into a verbal spat with a nearby stranger (Soap) over something inconsequential when you’re forced to overhear the loud, very confident, and horrifically wrong point he’s trying to make to his buddy.

He seems quite annoyed to be interrupted at first, but then he actually gets a good look at you, and suddenly he’s more than happy to engage with your criticism—you’re tenacious. The topic far too stupid to deem either of you the clear winner beyond personal preferences, so it ends up being a fight to see who can outlast the other, and neither of you are willing to let up.

You’re jamming your finger into his puffed out chest, missing the dangerous glint in his eyes that he gets as the digit makes contact with his shirt when an uninvolved party jeers at the two of you to get a room.

Your eyebrows nearly fly off your face when your Irritating opponent snaps back with a frustrated “-ah’m tryin’!”

hi um so two of my fav writers on this platform literally reblogged another of these drabbles as i was writing this one so?? I'm buggin.

It’s the long-drawn snapping of neurons that prickle at you, eyes closed and forearm thrown over your face. A slow peel of eyelid after eyelid, foggy thoughts wisping away at a moment’s notice in the blackness of the bedroom; the ceiling is more a theory of shapes inferred from moon-coerced shadows than its usual cragginess, and you unhook your arm from the dip between your nose and forehead to reach up. Comb your fingertips through the air. 

Was it the breeze through your ever-closed window? Open now, a new development, but surely one that would rouse you like a bear from slumber. You feel large enough to be a bear, warm enough to feel tarped in fur, lethargic enough to clamber off your mattress and land on all fours and grunt like an animal. 

Maybe it was the slice of light underneath your bedroom door. You never forget to turn off the switches in your living room, the LED bulbs too glowy and insistent to sleep the way you do, curled up on one side and facing the doorway. 

Or maybe it’s because you’re not sleeping the way you always do. Not at the moment. Right now, you’re tipped onto your back, each limb swallowed up by an inch of cushion, flat like a slab of carbonite. Your body and the bed are inseparable—each pore on your skin is looped through with a stitch that dips into the sheets, rises back out and finishes with a double knot. 

All you can do is lay there. Willingly, you suppose, despite the spasms. 

A new ozone layer has settled around you, consistency of molasses, and hot to inhale. It stinks of past activity, like breaths that have been used up and tossed out. All of it cloys against your skin, maintaining a sheen of sweat to add to the discomfort. 

You’re awake now, though. 

Unhappy, but no longer unconscious. A bit bitter that you’re all alone. 

But a sharp trill pierces the air, and it hits you—that’s it.

That’s what had awoken you. 

Roused this grumpy, sticky, sore form of you that’s polyfoam-bound, torn too quick from a fundamental repose period. You’re too exhausted to moan, gripe, curse like you should. 

Even as the lights under the door flicker out, and something pushes it’s way inside with various scuffling movements. The room returns to stagnancy with a soft click, save for the lone gust of wind invading and receding at an unsteady tempo. 

Your next breath is a roiling mix of oxygen saturated with sodium and garlic. You hum aloud, a vague attempt to dissuade the bile crawling up your throat. Each time your tongue scrapes past your teeth, the morning grime collects and taints your tastebuds. 

You need water, and a toothbrush, and two tablespoons of toothpaste. Five minutes for an alcoholic rinse, too. 

Definitely don’t need the robust wafting of a pepperoni Hot Pocket up your nostrils at the ass-crack of dawn, as the mattress dips with a bulky outline. 

“Sorry, Bonnie,” a Scottish voice that is not apologetic in the slightest mumbles beside you. “Didnae mean to wake ye. Fuckin’ makes me ’bit peckish.”

We’re not gonna talk about how I wrote this instead of finishing part two of what’s in a virtue. We’re not even gonna talk about what this is. I’m just gonna… yeah, here ya go.

!Trigger warnings: dubcon

Body swap au with soap who just wakes up one day and says, “no fuckin’ way.”

Soap who thinks it’s the best fuckin’ dream he’s ever had.

Soap who solemnly agrees with you in the mornings that yes, the two of you do need to work together to fix this as soon as possible, but who spends his nights in front of a mirror stripped down to nothing, masturbating because it’s fucking you, and you’re so pretty when you’re panting. Soap who was always convinced that making you come would feel just as good as coming himself, and now he doesn’t have to figure that out anymore.

Soap who, fuck, has his cake and eats it, too.

Soap who grins so proud at the awkward way you stumble around in his body, too big for you. Soap who, after discovering you’d had to——ahem——relieve yourself for the first time, feels his skin fucking buzz at the fact that you can’t meet his eyes, your eyes, anymore without a schoolboy blush spreading across his own damn face.

Soap who knows you liked what you saw.

Soap who makes your body come again that night, not even thinking of your body anymore, but of your mind fumbling around in his body, experimenting with touches and caresses. Soap who imagines you knowing how to pleasure him inside and out when this is all over.

Soap who records the sound of your voice saying his name, because the lines are getting so damn blurry, and emails the video to himself. Takes pictures, too.

Would never blackmail you with them, no, no, no.

But he deletes them from your phone after sending them all to his drive.

Soap who, after everything is over, after you’ve both found your ways into your own bodies, trots after you like the dog he is wherever you go.

Soap who, after you check the deleted folder of your photos app, gets a good and proper scolding.

Soap who managed to record the entire reprimand, listening to the anger in your voice, the how dare you do that to me——to my body?! That’s so fucked up, Soap!

Soap who rewards himself yet again that night, teeth gnawing at the hem of his shirt that he hadn’t bothered taking off, just pulling up high enough to jack himself off with his back against his front door. Panting at the dash he’d made up his flat’s stairs, then panting your name, whimpering disingenuous apologies to your chiding voice.

Soap who doesn’t stop, who won’t stop until he’s got the real you screaming his name.

idk what I’m doing but call me a duckling bc I be following all the ppl who use this format and it looked like fun

Soap who meets you, a medic for the Shadow Company, after he’s injured on the mission. Soap who’s dragged by Ghost up into the chopper, who you lean over and promise you’ll do your damn bestest to make sure he looks pretty by the end of this.

“Let me know if you see the light at any point, Sergeant MacTavish. That’s usually a bad sign.”

Soap who won’t stop looking you in the eyes as you work, mumbling to himself in such a thick accent you figure it’s best to ignore him, especially while finishing a suture on his chest that draws out an excessive groan.

Soap who flirts with you the entire time. Soap who’s ignorant to the gaping wound on his chest, and is much rather invested in the way your smell washes over him as you hover, ponytailed hair dangerously close to his hand. Soap who lets his head fall onto your shoulder on accident, Bonnie, so sorry, even as he sniffs for more of that shampoo and tang of sweat, because you’d been working so damn hard to keep little old him alive.

Soap who lets you wrap around him, pressing your hands against the wall and the cushion next to his thigh to get leverage to lean him up and off the cot.

Soap who clings a little too tightly to your shoulder as you lead him down and away, safely back to his base and into his CO’s protection.

“Thank you for not dying on me, John,” you say as you guide him back to Ghost.

Soap who watches you still, dazed little grin on his face even as Ghost grapples a hand at his shoulder——to hold him steady or hold him back, he’s not really sure.

Soap who wouldn’t mind staying with you, though. For a little longer.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” And he throws you a cheeky wink despite his sickly flush.

“Screwball,” you mutter fondly, waving a dismissive hand over your shoulder as you make your way back up the Shadow heli’s ramp.

Soap who grins as you go, eyeing your ass as he leans over to Ghost with a whispered, “What ‘oes screwball mean?”

“‘Fuck would I know, Johnny? Now let’s get a fuckin’ move on.”

Favorite Character in the whole franchise 🥹💜

Love this Scottish Boy