#niksoap

Johnny uncrossed and recrossed his ankles, palm patting against his own bicep. "Oh aye? How'd ye figure that?"

They had been watching Nik work on his Black Hawk while they scoffed some lunch and puffed on a cheeky fag between meetings. He was in jeans rather than his baggier flight suit, and the denim was putting up a valiant effort to contain what was usually a fleeting glimpse behind billowing material.

Simon blew smoke skyward, tapping ash onto the concrete. "Fifty, ain't 'e? Everyfin' drops as you age..."

"Naw tha' fuckin' much."

"I'd put a oner on it."

"A oner? Bet." Johnny pushed off from the wall and rolled his shoulders.

"Discovered yer work effic?" Simon asked.

Johnny turned and gave Simon the finger guns with a wink. "A oner, ye said."

Simon watched his sergeant swagger over to their pilot and wished he had planted a listening device on Nik's Black Hawk as he'd always planned to do. The big Russian turned when Johnny called him, his lopsided smile and raised eyebrows as warm as ever. Handsome cunt.

That expression turned to open mouthed amusement as Johnny waffled on, hands moving in outrageous gestures, and then... a nod, lower lip pushed up. They began to walk towards a utility cupboard and Johnny spun around briefly to wriggle his eyebrows before the door closed.

Simon's fag burned down to a stub as he stared at the door. An eternity crawled by on its belly. Lunch was almost over. Simon thought about striding over there and... interrupting, but his boots were rooted to the floor.

And then, the door opened. Johnny stepped out first, thumb stroking from the corner of his mouth across his lower lip, flushed in the face, his mohawk ruffled out of place. Nik followed, threading the end of his belt back through the buckle, a rosy tint to his cheeks.

Simon watched Johnny swagger back without blinking, his head completely empty of any thought but the mental image of Johnny on his knees and-- "Well?" he croaked.

"Happy tae take payment as a booze order or bank transfer," Johnny said, a roughness in his throat. "S'ah fuckin' beast."

"Yer a fockin' slag," Simon growled, his cheeks burning under his bally. To his chagrin, there was no heat to his words though; he sounded bloody petulant.

Johnny smirked, showing his teeth like a shark scenting blood in the water, but he didn't say anything. It was far more satisfying to let Simon stew in it as Johnny walked away, his palms spaced a whole eight inches apart before he disappeared into the corridor.

It's not a criticism. If anything, Nikolai is amused as he offers Johnny a pointed look. In all fairness to the pilot, the Scot has only taken his eyes off the man's tits to give him lip throughout the night.

"Aye, an a could suck a golf ball through a hose pipe. This mouth hus many talents."

Nikolai doesn't choke on his drink like many would, in fact, he's calm as he drains his glass. He's the picture of nonchalance, standing from the table and pulling Johnny away by the scruff of his neck like he's merely an unruly kitten.

The best the sergeant can offer him is a vaguely questioning hum.

"You're going to put your money where your mouth is and give the captain a show."

just old school fully tatted up price in a white tank showing off his arms, wearing black nitrile gloves while he inks johnny’s virgin skin, listening to his cut off whimpers as he fights not to squirm. he sits so well for him, even during the sharper lines that make him struggle, just hangs onto the chair and bites his bottom lip, and all price wants to do is find out what other noises he can get him to make, his jeans barely hiding his hardening cock as he drags the tattoo out

price pulling out his glasses for the finer line work, lamenting how he never used to need them but that’s what you get tattooing in the basements of clubs, half cut on alcohol and anything else he could get his hands on. he pauses midway through the tattoo to pull his belt line down and show off the faded, choppy lines in his inner pelvis he did as a dare, snickering to himself as he tells johnny that to this day he has no idea what it’s supposed to be; can barely remember doing it, he was so off his face and it’s so blown out it’s completely illegible anyway

johnny gives a weak laugh and can’t even pretend to look at the tattoo when he’s so captivated by the thick, wild mess of price’s pubes next to the faded ink

he’s completely done for when nik comes in at the same moment, cigar casually hanging from his lips, and crows his own loud laughter at the sight; unashamedly tugging his belt line even lower to get the full tattoo out and confessing he was the one who dared him to do it. he tells johnny as much as he can remember about that night too like he isn’t flashing the root of price’s cock just a hand’s breadth away from his face, his own hand covered in green-black ink from tattoos older than johnny is

but as the tattoo goes on, as they laugh and smoke and talk about the lives they’ve lived as alternative gay men and nik being an immigrant, coming up in communities that don’t want either of them so they built their own, it becomes about more than just lust

johnny admits to facing his own unique bigotry because of his religious upbringing, even as he beats back the twinge of shame at comparing it to what they’ve gone through. he tells them about leaving to go to uni, hoping he would find the freedom and sense of belonging he’s always wanted… just to find out even amongst these “liberated” minds, they have their own cliques and rules about who he’s supposed to be; the gay people he thought he would bond with just as prissy and regimented as his parents, telling him he’s too wild and gives the rest of them a bad name, that they’re better than those gross queers you always hear about

price finishes the tattoo and johnny struggles to bundle up the sharp sense of grief at the thought of leaving these men, of having to walk away from this burgeoning sense of safety and just how right it feels to be with them. he’s quiet as price wraps his chest, the touch gentle but for how rough and real his hands feel on his skin, and he almost flinches when nik throws his arm over his shoulders and asks if he feels up to getting something to eat; such a long session deserves aftercare, after all

his wording is so incredibly deliberate and johnny’s a blushing mess as he pushes out a meek, “sounds good”

just johnny getting taken under leather daddy price’s wing, being shown kink events and drag clubs, these “dirty” places that are more connected and protective of their own, no matter who they are, than anyone he’s ever met. nik showing him underground artists and thrash bands, singers that scream out their rage and their grief and their longing and musicians that break themselves to play with the intensity they have inside them; where he leaves shows feeling like he’d just been in a riot, so loose and bruised and free after seeing this pure display of sound and thought and artistic intent

he learns more about expression and integrity and emotion from them all than his carefully curated art class could ever hope to

johnny realising he was never going to fit in in these “proper” places no matter how much he tried to change himself. he always needed these alternative, sincere men to show him the world he was missing, the one you can only be invited to

he needed to be welcomed home instead of chasing one that would never be his

🚁💰🧼 (horny time)

genuinely can’t stop thinking about johnny trying to fit in with these high maintenance, judgemental college gays - waxing his whole body and going on a cut when all he’s ever wanted is to bulk up - getting taken in by old man nikprice who don’t count it as a fuck until they’re both filthy and disgusting; covered in each other’s spit and sweat and cum, the only reason they’re not still fucking because they physically can’t get it up any more and even then, they can’t stop groping each other’s soft cock and empty, sweat-damp balls

johnny who can’t even get head if he isn’t completely shaved and showered beforehand, staring in pure awe and longing as nik recounts pinning price down and eating his ass the night before when he got back from a three day tattoo convention and hadn’t slept or showered the whole time

all johnny can picture during his tattoo is sinking down on price’s cock, nik’s hand tangled in his hair and guiding him down, until his lips hit that old, faded ink; the two of them sharing that cigar as they indulge in sharing a new sweet young thing between them. he almost starts drooling as he goes even further, thinks about them chuckling to each other about how cute he is as he goes limp once they’re both finally inside him, his head falling back on nik’s shoulder, mouth slack as he does his best to cling to price. they wouldn’t even need to fuck him, just sit him on their cocks as his throbbing hole milks them…

both of them are just so big and hairy compared to his gym rat body, sleek and hairless since that’s what he’s been taught is most attractive. but here are these older effortlessly sexy men, their bulk and rough edges making them even hotter, and they like ruining his perfect hair and skin; the messier they get him, the better

Soap, who, rather persistently pursues Nikolai and some months in the pilot finally caves. Johnny is over the moon. He's been dreaming, and drooling, about the massive weapon Nikolai is slinging around since he first caught glimpse of it.

Imagine his surprise when he arrives at Nikolai's door, wet and loose and eager, only for Nikolai to tell him: "Well, then. Let's see if you fuck better than your Captain, yes?" as he spreads his legs.

And Johnny tries. Really, he does. He crawls between Nikolai's thighs to worship. Mouthing at his prick, down towards his balls and taint. Lapping at his scent and sweat like a dog. He opens him up on his tongue, then his fingers, taking Nikolai’s cock in his mouth again when there's no longer room to feast between his fingers. Soap is enthusiastic and attentive, chasing praise as much as he chases his orgasm, but his stamina is notably lacking when compared to Nik's.

He's on the cusp from the second he's hilted inside. Shivering without a moment's reprieve since Nikolai hooks his heels into the small of his back and forces him deeper the instant Johnny stills to ground himself – clenching down as he rolls his hips with what leverage he's got.

Nikolai's mouth is quirked in a small smile. His half-lidded eyes refusing to budge from the snare he'd caught Johnny’s in; going so far as to wrench Johnny’s head up by his hair when he tries to bury it in Nik's shoulder. He moans when Johnny hikes one of his legs up higher, lashes fluttering, and Soap gets one fleeting moment of hope before Nikolai chuckles. A bit mean, and a whole lot condescending when he drags Johnny closer, breath hot against the shell of his ear as he whispers: "Should I call him here? So he can show you how it is supposed to be done?"

The humiliation shouldn't set him off but he comes the moment the words register. He keeps going, keeps fucking into the wet hole sucking at his length until his cock grows soft, until he's trembling with overstimulation and there's tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. That's when Nikolai guides him down onto the sheets, shushing his stuttering sobs as he kisses the salt from his cheeks, hand working leisurely over his cock.

The next morning, there's a glass of water on the bedside table and a text from an unknown number with an address, date and time.

reader who, after the first ultrasound, finds out... theres 5 kids. and (it gets worse) two of them... are identical twins.

(i feel as though, if im going to make this an actual story, it should be mentioned that reader is white- for child/ genetics reasons)

Reader who assembles all of their boyfriends in the common room and tells them: "Theres five of them."

Soap, Roach, and Alejandro who immediately start asking questions. Horangi who's getting smug, thinking about how useful he could be to reader.. and how much more debt he'll get into.

Gaz who's just stunned and confused. "Five, you said?" He repeats.

Price and Nik who are just sitting there. Price smoking, until Nik takes it right out of his hands and gets a puff for himself. He needs it.

Koenig who's muttering a prayer in German before gently checking on reader. A hand on his shoulder and a kiss to his forehead.

Speaking of, consider this a soft continuation of this by @on-a-lucky-tide . As always, everyone say “Thank you, Jack!”

Too lazy for complete tag list so forgive me if I miss you. It’s not because I don’t love you, it’s because I want to post this before I change my mind: @s0fter-sin @laswells-ashtray @lialucis @gomzdrawfr @nekrosmos @whostarlockeda03 @shyravenns

Morning After

Nikolai confidently remembered a time some three or so decades ago being a scrappy teen who entered into everything in his life with the same energy as the crash that nearly killed him at 19 and barked with laughter at the nicks and bruises that should’ve have been gaping wounds and shattered limbs. His elders beat into his remarkably hard head that he’d be lucky to make it past 30; and to his credit, Nik did have a healthy respect for the Ladies Fate when he turned 49 earlier this year. Especially coming from the house he did—from the *man* he called a father—Nik knew it was a miracle to make it this long and in his business he quickly came to learn that it was a privilege to age.

But as Nik pathetically groaned into Johnny’s sofa and burrowed away from the early morning sun, Nik wondered for the first time if aging was a mistake. Sure, he had undoubtedly drank the most out of every man last night but he was hardly stumbling by the end of it—and when he was younger he was sure he had drank twice or thrice as much as hardly even felt parched the next morning. Now? It was if Nik’s brain was trying to burst out of his skull, his throat hadn’t seen a liquid in 40 years, and his everything ached like he had been stretched on a rack and pummeled by a tank.

Nik was so distracted by his body’s sudden mutiny that he didn’t notice Johnny come up behind him and warmly shake his shoulder.

“Mornin’ big boy,” Johnny purred, near Nik’s ear but not so close for his breath to be felt. “Got sumthin for ye.”

Nik bit back a groan as he shifted and tried to not look in as much pain as he was as he dragged his face out of the sofa and at Johnny. The young man had the audacity to have a cheeky grin—Nik almost slapped him for it. Before he could, a bottle with remnants of commercial wrapping that had been ripped off filled with light pinkish orange liquid in it sloshed in front of his face.

“Drink up. Ye’ll be belter in no time.” Johnny thrust the bottle into Nik’s face.

“Wha—“ Nik cleared his throat and ignored the way his head screamed as he sat up and cautiously took the bottle like it was a bomb. “What is this?”

“Fuck, even yer voice makes me wan’ ye ta bend me over and beast me.” A few of the words were nonsense to Nik but the look in Johnny’s eyes was downright filthy, so the intent was clear. When Nik’s eyes widened Johnny cackled and then finally answered his question. “It’s a special brew. Made it meself! Electrolytes, vitamins, all the shite ye need after a good night! Ah call it the ‘Mornin’ After’!”

Nik blinked at the bottle and then at Johnny. It was only now that he realized the young Scot was dressed in a low cut tank top that showed off his scruffy chest and runner’s shorts and joggers on his feet. “Where are you going?”

Johnny looked down at himself and then looked back up at Nik with a grin and a not-even-a-little subtle flex. “Mornin’ run, eh.”

Nik prided himself on keeping a cool expression, but whether it was the hangover or not, he couldn’t stop his eyes from bulging out of his sockets. “A run? You drank all through the night, no? Did you pretend?”

Johnny barked out another cackle. “Awa n bile yer heid! Ah wasnae fakin’ it! But no reason to wallow ‘cuz af a wee headache.”

Nik decided in this moment that he hated young men, actually. Could he get away with waging a global war against an entire age range? Maybe 18 to 35? He had the resources, he was pretty sure.

Johnny seemingly didn’t notice the danger he was in and patted Nik’s shoulder. “Drink. Ah’m serious, it’s magic, ah swear.” Then he grabbed a bottle full of the stuff for himself that he had left on his coffee table and headed for the door. “Get comfy if ye wan’, yer a guest. If ye stick around for scran ah’d love ta return the chivalry from last night ‘n make ye something nice.” Johnny even had the nerve to wink at Nik as he opened the door and if the look in his eyes wasn’t enough, the sway of his hips as he walked out of the door told Nik that that may have been a double entendre.

Nikolai who literally has no idea how to masturbate.

Like he gets the basics! Rub your cock, it's not that hard. But he just can't finish like that...

He's got a drive to match his partners. Ever-horny Soap? He's gone five rounds and is ready to go five more. Ace Ghost? That's fine, he'll never make a move unless Ghost starts it, even then it's mostly just groping and heavy petting.

Heck- sometimes it's like he can read people.

Gaz? Hyper sexual Gaz? He could be grinding on Nik's thigh, sexual frustration obvious, and he wouldn't even move a muscle. "Is this what you really want, Зайка?" And y'know what? Gaz had to pause because- is this what he really wants? Or is he just trying to get in Nikolai's pants because that's what everyone wants from him?

Or Roach, who just because he's short and mute, people seem to think he has no interest in sex. But Nik? Nik is bending him over every chance he gets. He spits pure filth in his ear every chance he gets, seemingly constantly in the mood.

So if he has no partner?

It's simple, he just doesn't get off.

He's gone days, weeks, months without any type of pleasure. It's not even like he's thinking about it, it just... Slips by? He just *doesn't* think about sex unless it's with someone else.

That also means he doesn't really touch himself. Not unless he's with someone else at least. Mutual masterbation with Alejandro? Amazing, great, he loves it. Just tickling his own pickle?? He doesn't see the point.

So first I wanna make clear that I've spent more than a week already thinking about sucking Nikolai's dick every day.

Now that that's out of the way and we established that I am indeed Soap xD I'm gonna go back to my bullshit and lead everyone away from horniness and Horndog Soap trope.

Cuz yeah, duh, of course Soap wants Nik, who doesn't. And maybe I'm biased, but I'm sure Nik would match his want, pressing Johnny up against the wall or bending over the work bench for him. I see them having really energetic, full length thrusts and hair pulling sex. Also they're both so broad and strong in the shoulders, I bet they squeeze each other really tight when they fuck or hug.

But I'm more interested in the other part, in the part where Nik sees his very very past young self in Soap - he was just as eager to get into military because he believed in what they do, and he was absolutely same way reckless and defiant. Although I actually think Nik was way more of a goody two shoes at first in the army, he got to the disobedience later, because it stems from his thoughts, not just his temper. Even though obviously both he and Soap feel justified in their disobedience and have their morality behind it, I think Nik has always been less explosive, so in a way they're coming to the same point from different sides: Nik starts calm and goes to defy literally everyone who gives him orders, but still bows his head before Price in a way; Soap starts angry and explosive and finds a handler's hand in Price and calms down, matures (if we ignore his death). So they end up in this "moderated righteous defiance" state, both anchored to Price.

And I think Nik doesn't want Soap to move further into obedience and let the leash tighten. Even if it's a leash held by Price. I think Nik knows that this is how Soap dies. And I think Nik loves him enough to want to prevent that. I also think this would make Soap angry at first, because he is a stubborn bastard, and that's why Nikolai's patience will play it's role too.

Nik would be the hammer that hits slowly and repeatedly into the ring on Soap's collar, not letting him loose, because that's also how Soap dies, but deforming it enough to not let Soap get dragged into the dangerous mirky waters of doing everything for the service. He'd make Soap's boyish belief in the military clear up.

I don't know 09 Soap too well, but I assume he's more mature than Johnny we have in the reboot, and to some extent I think Nikolai could be the force that makes Johnny into Captain MacTavish. It can't happen without Price, obviously, without any of 141; but Price is Soap's death, and if anyone can beat it, it's Nik.

And on the other end, Soap is probably a burning fuse that can shake off melancholy that is always there with Nik (hi, cultural code). Nikolai has seen and lost enough to be susceptible to feeling hopeless or defeated; it's not because he lacks a spine, it's just because even a spine forged in motherland can only carry so much. I think seeing the world as it is now would shake Nik. Not break him, maybe, but he's not getting younger, and everything he's been building and doing seems futile, and there will be the eternal question - if it's all even worth trying. And Soap, second after Farah, obviously, is there to tell him that yeah, it is.

Shoving all this aside, I also think that Nik would love Soap's eyes and tell him there's sky in them; he would manhandle Johnny by his mohawk and ruffle it and sincerely adore it; he would leave Soap in his hangar next to some old manuals and come back to helicopter blueprints coloured in by one bored Scott. I think they would get drunk together and get rowdy in pubs, I think Nik would constantly have his arm wrapped around Soap's shoulders and I think Johnny would want to look like Nik. I think Soap's family loves Nikolai and they play guitars together when they're visiting Johnny's home. I also think they love to sneak into some elite experiences like five stars hotels and all this bougie stuff and make fools out of themselves (or the elites, depends how you look) by misbehaving and going against stupid customs.

I also think Soap would sit back in the dark corner while Nik has a meeting with shady people from the criminal world, with his eyes glinting dangerously - Nik doesn't bring him there as an attack dog, he doesn't use Soap like this, but that's exactly why Johnny would gladly beat a cunt to death for him.