I feel like I’ve either seen the concept or seen a fic where it’s Soap x reader x Ghost, except it’s Soap + reader both being whiny needy subs and Ghost being the dom that’s instructing them what to do.
please for the love of god someone tell me that this is a thing already, and please point me in the direction to it 😭
Cold Love, Hot Blood(Kinktober Day Four- messy sex)
John "Soap" MacTavish/reader
A/N: Soap's my favorite nasty dog. Again, I will never stop with the dog metaphors(occupational hazard, sue me). If you really want to, you could read this as a companion to It's Time For Me To Strike Again. Another short one, sorry. -Bambi
C/W: smut, 'dry' humping(nothing here is dry), oral, unprotected sex, gn!reader, no use of Y/n, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
For someone with the callsign ‘Soap’, Johnny had a bit of a reputation for being a hot mess of a man. Ghost didn’t like to call him a ‘nasty Scottish mutt’ for nothing.
Sex with Soap was downright filthy. If someone didn’t end up bleeding or covered in some form of bodily fluid, it was considered a ‘vanilla’ session. One particularly memorable time, he ended up in medical with a shallow chunk missing from his bicep(his own fault, really, he shouldn’t have dared you to bite him after edging you until your head was spinning).
This time, it was like he had something to prove, fresh off a mission with his blood singing hot and wicked in his veins. Your sheets were ruined, no doubt about that after the third(fourth?) time he made you cum on his face.
“Aw, ye missed me.” He grinned up at you before dipping his head to press a tender kiss to the inside of your thigh that was enough to make your trembling legs jerk. He chuckled, low and sinful, before prowling up your body to run his tongue up the pulse in your throat. “Dinnae worry, missed this too.”
If death came for you while John MacTavish had you trapped under him, somehow, you’d probably be alright with it.
He was drooling, or maybe that was just your cum still smeared across his lips. It didn’t matter either way when he slotted his mouth over yours and began rutting his hips against the plush softness of your thigh, his cock drooling pearly precum across your skin with every needy buck of his hips.
“Steamin’ Jesus.” He groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder as he continued rutting into you. “Fuckin’ close already, shit.”
Of course he was close already, he’d been humping the mattress the entire time he was between your legs and, by the size of the sticky puddle he’d left behind, he’d been having just as much fun as you had. Maybe more.
Time was a fuzzy thing when he was draped over you panting like an animal, maybe it was hours until his hips stuttered and he came, maybe it was just minutes. Either way, he didn’t stop rolling his hips, whining like a beat dog as he kept rutting against your skin like you weren’t squirming under him in a desperate attempt to either seat him inside of you or to escape the maddening feeling of too much and not enough all at once.
“Johnny-” His name came out high-pitched and strangled, your entire world narrowed down to him and the burning ache where you wanted him most.
He shushed your whimpers with enough sweetness it made you want to sink your teeth into him, murmuring as he finally hiked your legs up so he could slide into you. He barely got the first inch inside you before his head rolled back with a groan, his brow furrowing as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Fuck me, that’s it.” He dropped his forehead against your collarbone, holding very still as he tried to steady his ragged breathing and calm his racing heart. “Always take it so well.”
He offered a rough chuckle at your responding mewl, slowly rocking his hips just enough to rub the head of his cock against the spot that made you see stars.
“Dinnae worry.” He cooed, his words far to sweet for the sharp drag of his teeth against the vulnerable skin of your throat. “‘M not done yet.”
