#og soap

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“You. Him.”

You raise your eyebrows, glancing sidelong at the man next to you, before back at the woman who was smiling pleasantly between you, “What?”

“You. Him.” She says again, joining her hands, “Together.”

“We’re…” You furrow your eyebrows, unsure where she was getting at, “Standing together, yeah?”

“Together.” She shakes her joined hands in your face.

Task Force 141 had taken up residence in a small village in eastern Yemen, performing a recon mission for NATO. You’d been stationed for two weeks before being given the all-clear, exfil on their way with an hour eta by the time word had reached you.

You’re standing next to your captain, Soap MacTavish, when an old woman lumbered up the street to approach you. She’d been eyeing you up for days, watching your every move, especially when you were with the captain. It had raised some red flags, so Ghost had been the one tasked with keeping tabs on her. So far she hadn’t done anything other than look, but you shifted your rifle up to a ready stance nonetheless. Plenty of people liked to gawk at the foreigners in military gear.

You and Soap had stepped outside—him for a smoke break, and you just to have his back. The villagers had all mostly kept to themselves, but it was never good to be complacent. Especially with the group you’d been monitoring for the past couple weeks.

“I don’t—” You frown and shake your head at her, “I don’t know what you mean.”

The woman didn’t speak good English, and your Yemen liaison wasn’t around to help translate.

Ghost, hearing the commotion in an otherwise quiet village, steps out of the house they’d commandeered. His hulking mass has to duck under the doorframe to do so, and it gives the woman pause upon seeing him. It’s nothing hostile, he just quietly observes from his spot.

Next to you, Soap throws his cigarette butt to the ground and stomps it out, pointing down the street, “Keep moving.”

The woman only smiles back at him, and points to you, “You. Her.”

“Yeah, my Lieutenant. Now keep moving.”

The woman motions to you with one hand, and then to Soap with the other, bringing them together and saying, “Together. Good.”

“Sure.” You say with a small smile, trying to appease her enough to be on her way.

“Good!” She says, “You, together.”

“Mama!” Another woman says in exasperation, rushing across the street. The old woman looks back at her glumly, as if she’d gotten caught with something.

Soap shifts closer to you as the women get into a small spat, speaking hushed Arabic. He doesn’t have his rifle up, but you can see his hand resting on the handgun strapped to his thigh. Further down, Ghost is monitoring with his body turned so that the barrel of his rifle is pointed at the ground near the women’s feet.

“I am sorry.” The younger woman finally says, glancing hesitantly between you and Soap, “I told her not to bother you, but she got away from me at the market.”

“It’s fine, just move along.” Soap says yet again, not gruff, but assertive in the way his captain’s voice makes him.

“Yes, of course.” The young woman says, glancing over at you and then blushing, “My mother says you make a nice couple.”

There’s a snort that comes from Ghost’s way, earning a glare from Soap as you sputter out a, “Oh. No, we’re not—”

“Together.” The old woman says, “Good.”

“We’re not together.” You say, the tips of your ears getting hot, “No. No together.”

“No, Mama.” The young woman says, trying to steer her mother away, and says something to her in their language. You assume explaining that you and your captain were most definitely not a thing.

No matter how much you thought about it.

This seems to make the older woman surprised, as she says something back with a shocked expression, shoving both hands into her pockets. She glances at you, face aflame, and then Soap, whose eyebrow is arched about the whole situation.

The woman beckons him to come closer. He doesn’t move for a moment, and then glances down at you and your poised stance. With a sigh he turns toward the woman and ducks a little so that he’s not completely towering over her.

She smiles, and then abruptly takes a hand out of her pocket and holds her palm up, blowing a powder directly into Soap’s face.

He rears back, coughing and sputtering, back hitting the wall of the house behind him.

You have your rifle raised in the blink of an eye, pointing it right in the old woman’s face, “Hey! What the fuck was that?”

Ghost is at Soap’s side in two strides, inspecting the captain while keeping a watchful eye on you and the women, “Roach get your ass out here!”

“What was that?” You shout again, pointing the barrel of your rifle down at her hand and then back up at her chest, “Answer me, now!”

The old woman is clinging to her daughter, seemingly shocked at this turn of events. Her daughter looks terrified, frightened tears welling in her eyes as she says, “I don’t know, I don’t know, hold on.”

You glance back at Soap, who’s rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly, the whites red with irritation. He coughs once more and sniffs, clearing his throat.

Panic attempts to edge into your head—what the fuck was that, oh god what if it was poison, what do you do—but you tamp it down. You were no good to the situation if you couldn’t keep your lid. If Soap had ingested some sort of poison, it’d be on you to hold the line until exfil got there.

Roach finally comes bounding out of the door with his rifle at the ready, taking a quick stock of the situation.

“It’s, uh,” The woman says, after having another quick discussion with her mother, “it’s harmless.”

“Tell me what the fuck it is, right fucking now.” You say through your teeth, trying not to let frustration get the better of you, “I don’t give a fuck if it’s harmless, I need to know what it is.”

The woman’s face goes red.

You turn your gun on her, and she gasps, “Your mother just blew an unknown substance into my commanding officer’s face, you’re going to tell me what it is, or I’ll shoot you right fucking here.”

“It’s…” She sighs, “It helps…men. With…sex.”

The task force goes silent. Your brain doesn’t compute.

“What do you mean?” You demand.

“It gets them ready.” She says matter of factly, “Makes them want to.”

“So you mean,” There’s a hitch in Ghost’s amused voice, “the Captain’s going to get insanely horny?”

“Horny?” The woman asks, unfamiliar with the word.

You glance back at them again, and then lower your rifle slightly, “You’re telling me the truth?”

“I swear.” She says, holding up her hands, and her mother says something to her, “She says it’s to help you.”

“Help me?” You ask incredulously.

“You said you were not together, however she says she can see the way you look at each other.” The woman gives a small smile, “So she gave him this to help.”

You sputter, while Ghost slaps Roach’s arm and bursts out laughing. The other man’s shoulders are shaking too, and the red from earlier takes over your face.

“Hilarious.” Soap deadpans, turning a glare toward the women, “Is there a remedy?”

“Just sex.” The woman says quietly, which makes Ghost and Roach snort harder.

“How long does it take to kick in?”

“Within the hour.”

“And until it wears off?”

“That’s the problem.” The woman looks hesitant again, “Usually it’s given in small amounts. My mother blew a rather large pile into your face. Usually it wears off in a few hours, but with that amount, I can’t be sure.”

“Perfect.” He breathes.

“It’s also very strong in the small doses.” She explains further, “For you it may be…hard.”

“Yeah it will be.” Ghost mutters, and this time you can’t help but stifle a laugh with him and Roach.

Soap gives you all a withering look, “Get back on your way and don’t let me see you again. You’re lucky the Lieutenant didn’t shoot you.”

The group watches the woman grab her mother and all but drag her away, and you turn to look up at your captain, “You okay, sir?”

“So far.” He looks down at himself, but already you can see color creeping up his neck, “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Who wants to make a bet that Cap’s gonna be jerking it on exfil? Roach signs, letting his rifle rest against his chest.

“Wow, bold of you to assume he’ll last that long.” You quip, averting your gaze as Soap shoots you a look.

Roach snickers, Never said it would be the first time.

“Brings a whole new meaning to rapid fire.” Ghost barely gets it out before laughing. You fall in next to him, Roach bent over at the waist.

“Next one te make a joke gets te clean barracks toilets for a month.” Soap mutters, but his lips quirk as he passes you by.

“Better worry about cleaning himself up first.” Ghost mutters. More snorts ensue.

“I heard that.”

✦　✦　✦　✦　✦

Exfil finally blows in a half hour after the incident, and flies you twenty klicks to the nearest base, where a cargo-loaded C-17 is waiting to bring you back to Hereford.

You sit next to Soap on the helicopter as you usually do, Ghost and Roach across from you. You try not to openly gawk at your captain, but the concern you have leaves you a tad on edge.

Despite the earlier ribbing, you were still wary of whatever powder had been blown into his face. What if they’d been lying and it was a poison? Or a different kind of drug? What if he had a late reaction to it? What even was it, if it were indeed some sort of aphrodisiac?

The helicopter hits some turbulence, jostling you around a bit. You bump into his shoulder, and then lurch, grabbing his thigh to keep from pitching forward. He inhales sharply, and when you turn to glance sidelong him, you find his eyes focused on the hand still gripping his leg, hands tucked into his vest like he was forcing himself not to touch anything else.

“Sorry, Cap—”

Another bought of turbulence hits, with the pilots saying, “hold on boys” in your comms. You brace your hand on the roof of the helo, bouncing as the wind wars with the bird. Your hand slips, though, and you plunge sideways over Soap’s lap. You scramble to get up, but end up dropping down to his feet.

“Goddamnit.” You swear under your breath, rising up to your knees against the jostling. Again, you use Soap’s legs as a brace, looking up at him to give a sheepish fuck me right? look, and instead get a shock right to your gut with the way he’s looking back at you.

Eyes half lidded, lips parted slightly, cheeks and neck red. Sweat dots his brow, rolls down his throat, which bobs as he swallows hard. You try not to notice the slight bulge of his pants.

“Sorry, Captain.” You say quietly, wedging yourself back into your seat as the helo levels out, “That was a bitch.”

He clears his throat, “‘S’alright.”

Your mouth suddenly goes dry, cottony with the idea that Soap was hard sitting next to you. You tried to tell yourself to be rational—that the aphrodisiac was starting to kick in, which was good really, because that meant it really was what the women said it was.

But the look he’d given you, like he was imagining something filthy in his head, wouldn’t leave yours. The giddiness that it maybe involved you made it spin.

How long had you been crushing on your Captain? Since you were a fresh Sergeant? Since the day the other recruits were ragging on you about how you’d fail the gun course, only to be complimented by him, the Soap? The guy who earned his callsign for urban ops and room clearing?

You really should have made a move when you hadn’t been under his command. When he was just the hot authority figure for a different squad. Once you were selected for the Task Force, he became your Lieutenant, and then your Captain—he became your superior officer. And despite you moving up in rank to be his second, it still didn’t erase the fact that he held rank over you, and therefore was virtually off limits.

So all you could do was let your eyes wander when no one was looking, and take what little enjoyment you could get from having his hands on you during sparring. At night, when you were alone, you’d make yourself come to his praises during drills, or the rough sound of his voice over comms, the sight of him dripping wet with sweat after a workout, Mohawk tousled from a shower, daydreams of what he’d do to you if he ever got you naked—

Yeah. You were down bad. For your fucking Captain. Who happened to be absent from the cargo bay of the C-17 where you and the others were playing cards.

“Anyone seen the Captain?” You ask, frowning as Roach won poker yet again. Truly it wasn’t fair to play with him and Ghost, the two mask-wearers.

“Probably off wanking one out.” Ghost says, shuffling for the next game, “He wasn’t looking too good when we took off.”

“Should someone go check on him?” You ask.

“Yeah, if you want a gander at his pecker.”

“Okay, so you go find him.” You say, “You had to have seen him naked by now.”

A stallion of a man. Roach signs, with a nod.

“Right, so you have.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“A man seeing another man’s dick isn’t as humiliating as a girl seeing it.”

“Depends.”

You roll your eyes, “Well someone should see if he’s okay. We don’t even know if that shit was actually glorified viagra or not.”

The three of you stare at each other, in a silent standoff about who would hunt down the captain. Dick out or not.

You’re the lieutenant. Roach shrugs.

Ghost nods, “He’s right.”

“Oh now you’re going to appreciate rank?”

“You’re Soap’s second. Not us.” Ghost shrugs nonchalantly.

“Unbelievable.” You gripe, rising to your feet, “I’ll remember this.”

“Careful of any accidental weapons discharges.” Ghost calls, and you can hear Roach slap the table.

You flip him off as you go.

✦　✦　✦　✦　✦

Turns out, C-17s are fucking huge. You spend almost the rest of the flight wandering around aimlessly, trying to find MacTavish.

A few members of the crew point you to various locations they spotted him, but none pan out. You seem to just miss him every time.

You decide to finally head back to the cargo bay to see if he’d finally turned up there, lost in some back mazes of storage rooms. It’s when you turn a corner, wondering if you’d gone in one big circle, that you finally catch a glimpse of Soap.

“There you are, Captain.” You say, shoulders slumping with relief, “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

His back is to you, facing the wall of the plane. One hand is braced up against it, the other moving in front of him, shoulders heaving like he was breathing hard. He jumps when he hears your voice, twisting to say, “Fuck me, just—wait there lass!”

You, in a turn of events, don’t hear him over the rumble of the C-17, and continue on your merry way toward him. It’s only until you see him hastily shoving himself back inside his pants, that you grasp what he’d been back here doing.

“Oh fuck, sir!” You freeze, covering your eyes with your hands like that would fucking help. Behind them, you can feel your face burning, “I’m so sorry. I’m—so sorry!”

“What did you need, lass?” He asks, sounding like he hadn’t turned around yet, as if just as embarrassed.

“I, uh—I…uh.” You fumble, hands still over your eyes, “Came to see if you were doing okay?”

“Just fine.”

You crack your fingers to peak through, and find that he is indeed still facing the wall, “You sure, sir?”

“I’m…” He sighs, head tipping back as he lets out a little laugh, “Canna fuckin’ think straight, if I’m being honest.”

“Anything you need?” You ask without thinking, “Anything I can do?”

“Lass…” He chokes, finally turning his head to look at you with half-lidded eyes and blazing cheeks, “Don’ ask me that question right now.”

Your eyes widen at the gravity of it, and you swallow, finding the courage to say, “Why not?”

“You canna help me.” He says quietly.

You take a slow step toward him, and then another, until you’ve crossed the deck and are right behind him. Reaching up, you put a hand on his forearm to twist him toward you, body burning underneath your palm, “I think I can, actually.”

“Don’t.” He sighs, eyes dazed, “I’m barely holdin’ back, here.”

“Let me help, sir.”

“Help me how?”

“You know as well as I do what the answer to that is.”

His eyes smother you, taking your breath away with the intensity of his gaze. It always had been intimidating having his full attention, especially now, when the tension was so thick it clogged your throat. But you gaze back without backing down, trying to be just as large of a presence as he is.

“Fuck me, yer fucking something when you get like this.” He breathes, “Fuckin’ piss an’ vinegar.”

“You like me like this, sir?” You ask, letting some flirtatiousness edge your words.

He breathes a little heavier when you call him sir, still looking like he’s trying to be the rational CO he is, “I like you a lot of ways. My Lieutenant being one of them.”

Ouch, okay. But you don’t back down.

“Then as your Lieutenant, aren’t I supposed to assist you in any way I can? Captain?” You tip your head thoughtfully, “Unless, of course, you don’t want it—my mouth.”

“‘I don’t want it’.” He repeats, shivering, and at first you think that’s what he means, until he huffs out a laugh, “I’m so far out my fuckin’ heid I canna even lie te you.”

Your breath catches as your stomach lurches, and you reach up to put your hands on his chest, feeling his heart pounding under your touch. Again, he’s burning up, skin flushed and clammy, shirt damp.

“I’ve got you, sir.” You say quietly, feeling him shudder under your hands, “Just relax.”

Without another word, you sink down to your knees in front of him, reaching up to unzip the pants he’d crudely tried to do up when you caught him. Your fingers find the elastic band of his briefs, and you look up at him in question.

He’s watching you intently, blue gaze swallowing you whole again. He gives a slight nod, hand lightly skimming across your cheek before tangling in the hair on top of your head.

You pull his briefs down, freeing his cock, and let them and his tac pants settle around his thighs. Saliva floods your mouth at the sight of him, flushed red and painfully hard, dripping with precum. The happy trail leading from his navel had been what you’d always dreamed of, disappearing into neatly trimmed hair around his cock.

Your fingers wrap around the base of him, and he lets out a shaky sigh from just your touch, cock throbbing in your palm. It goes to your head a little, makes you more confident in what you’re doing. You trace your tongue in a slick path from base to tip, before twirling it around his slit to lap up the beads of precum that were nearly continuous now.

And then you part your lips to wrap them around his thick head, sinking down little by little, inch by inch, eyes closing at the salt-slicked taste of him. His entire body jerks, and he lets out a breath through his nose, long and heavy, like you’d knocked the wind out of him.

You moan around him, soft and pleased, and it makes his hips twitch. He’s trying to hold still for you, you realize. It’s evident in the way his thighs tighten under your hands, and the way his hand bunches in your hair but doesn’t push.

He hasn’t said a word, but he doesn’t need to, his body tells you everything on its own. Every hitch of his breath, every tremble, every time his fist clenches your hair, it’s all because of you. A show of crumbling restraint. Limited control. A short fuse.

You bob your head on his cock, pace slow and deep, using your fist for what you can’t fit, because he is huge. Saliva drips down your chin, tears pouring out of the corners of your eyes as you push him deeper into your throat. It works around him, and you gag as it tries to adjust to his girth.

He tips back, back hitting the wall behind him, and you knee forward to take him all the way this time. Your nose buries itself into his neat hair, and you gag again, tears sliding down your cheeks.

Soap groans, low and broken and breathy, his cock throbbing in your mouth. The hand in your hair slips down to stroke your face, thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Look at me.” He finally rasps, voice hoarse and heavy with need. He cups your chin in his fingers.

You obey and look up at him, eyes rimmed with tears, chin slick with saliva, lips swollen, face flushed, mouth still full of his cock.

And that’s when his infamous control finally slips, losing the restraint he’d tried so hard to show. His hands find either side of your head, holding it still as his hips start to thrust shallow, needy strokes into your mouth.

“Fuck.” He breathes to himself, “Fuck me.”

You moan around him at the thought, and his hips stutter as his pace quickens. His breathing is audible, the barest hint of a whine underneath the rasp of it. His hands find the back of your head and bob it in time with his thrusts, completely at his mercy.

His eyes capture yours, craning your head up to hold your gaze as he fucks your mouth. His thighs stiffen under your hands, body going rigid, and he lets out a deep, guttural moan as he spills down your throat. He pushes his cock as far as he can, holding your face against him as his entire body quivers.

You swallow everything he gives you, eyes locked on his as your throat coaxes everything out of him. He finally lets you go, and you release him with a deep breath, coughing and sputtering, trying to wipe all the tears and saliva off your face.

“Fuck, I—” He kneels down, handing you a kerchief out of one his pockets, “I dinnae mean to that at the end. You alright?”

“Yeah.” You give him a smile as you wipe your face, “You?”

He nods, not quite meeting your gaze, “Aye.”

“Good.” You rise to your feet and pull him to his, doing your best not to make the whole thing a big deal, “We best go find Ghost and Roach before they get any funny ideas.”

Soap tucks himself back into his pants, huffing, “Right. No funny business here.”

You brush off your hands and knees, smoothing down your pants, and then step in close while you still can, while you still have the courage. Soap’s hand naturally comes to rest on your hip, your hands snapping his tac pants closed and sliding his belt until it clicks shut.

“None at all.” You murmur, pressing a quick kiss to the scar splitting his jaw, lingering for just a second longer than you maybe should have. You hold his gaze as you had before, his eyes dark and unwavering as his body winds tight under your hands.

Then you smile and step away, headed for the doorway you’d spotted that hopefully lead back to the cargo bay, “Just helping out my CO, sir.”

He mutters something in Scottish under his breath, readjusting his belt and pulling up his zipper before following you back.

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For the next three parts (or really 2, I split them into 4 for tumblr because each part was almost 10,000 words) check me out on AO3! 🧼

ESTP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good / Chaotic Neutral

Pisces Sun, Aries Moon, Sagittarius Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・He is the complete embodiment of 'gruff, rugged, protective, knows what to do at all times.'

・Yes to others he comes off as ... intimidating, dominating, and even a tad controlling. But that's not how you see him. Not anymore. He's different with you.

・And that's because he's yours and you are his.

・So, since capturing his heart. The game as been over.

・There is no one else for either of you.

・And you see a very different person than the public.

・Because this man is your husband. You know he would do absolutely anything for you.

・For a long time, he thought he wasn't worthy of softness. Of a life of peace.

・The things that he's done keep him awake at night, struggling to see himself as anything other than a monster.

・But you're there. And it's as if you are his tether to the light. The warmth. To living.

・You never have to drive yourself anywhere; John MacTavish does it for you.

・He also opens every door for you, keeps a hand on your back when walking through crowds and always puts himself in front of you if there's danger.

・You are so protected. John would never let anything happen to you. And if something did, then he would rage.

・He isn't great with expressing his feelings, but he does things to prove how much he cares:

・Fixing things around the house (even if it's just 'squeaky' he is on that shit)

・You want renovations done? Then baby he's on it

・He also remembers everything you love. Whether it be a tv show, movie or piece of jewellery. That man would buy anything for you.

・Captain MacTavish is a very commanding, confident, and action-oriented man. That doesn't stop around you; you're just able to tell him when enough is enough...

"John, honey, sit down and have some tea. You're doing my head in love."

・The banter between you two is caused because you - sometimes - like being told what to do, while John is so used to barking orders and having them done.

・But it is John who does the laundry (apparently you don't fold the clothes the right way.)

・He's an alright cook; food that fills your belly. That's all that matters when he's on deployment. So it's just what he's used to.

・Loves when you frame photos of the two of you. He always straightens them when he walks by

・Quite affectionate when he wants to be. And he wants to be while he's at home, alone with you.

・Forehead kisses, running his hands through your hair, kisses your knuckles and moving you into his lap

"Yer mine, alrigh'. Fuckin' mine.'

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

“Shut Up” x “Make Me”

Cheerful Optimist (honestly, anyone looks cheerful compared to him x Grumpy Asshole (Soap, through and through)

"Being With You Makes Me Better"

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Healing and Rebuilding Together

Constant Banter

Sun x Moon

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Let The Light in by Lana Del Rey

Shrike by Hozier

Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞

・Sex with John, is ... overwhelming, claiming and yet, still reverent. John both feels and shows deep and sincere respect for you, your body, your feels and wants/needs.

・Doesn't want you to ever feel like you can't come to him with ... new ideas or how you want to be handled.

・Loves spending time worshipping your body. Licking every part of you, from your feet to your neck.

・Whispering one word over and over again, "mine, mine, mine."

・MacTavish becomes ... feral.

・Holding you down and playing with you; not even needing to be inside you to bring a climax.

・He's obsessed with your chest. Your nipples and how they're so sensitive. A pinch, a bite, a suck; and you unravel before him. Whining and wiggling.

・And by gods, does he love hearing you beg.

"Please, please Captain! I need you. I - I need your cock."

・When he feels pleasure, the noises he makes are fucking filthy.

・Deep groans, growls, low grunts. And the first time you moaned his name? He growled so deep it made your legs weak.

・His favourite positions are: the mating press, doggy and cowgirl/cowboy.

・And his favourite place to cum is inside you. Filling your body with his essence, cumming over and over again until he can see it seep out of you.

・That's what he like to see.

・Feels a pang of pride everytime your legs are too sore after sex