Thinking ab how much of a tease Johnny would be around the team after you two fucked once. You’d walk into a room with them in it for briefing and immediately he’s got a devilish smirk on him and you look away, blushing, avoiding eye contact with him. You sit down, taking the farthest seat from him, trying to ignore the discomfort of knowing he’s watching you like prey.
His eyes boring into you, smirk still on his face, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. It’s evident to the others paying attention that something is going on with the way he looks so proud of himself; so… triumphant.
Johnny turns to Gaz and whispers to him, not taking his eyes off you:
“You know, she’s got a real pretty pussy.”
And poor Gaz’s eyes widen and he looks at Johnny, making sure he heard him right.
But Johnny isn’t paying attention to Gaz anymore, since his gaze is back on you, trying to hide your burning cheeks as you shift in your seat.
And if Johnny’s lewd comments and cockiness don’t give away what happened, then the clench of your thighs in your seat when you glance at the way his biceps bulge in his shirt will.
Fluff with an open ending
Werewolf Johnny Soap MacTavish x handler f reader
AN: thank you to @lialucis for making this happen.
An average handler in the army deals with around a dozen Werewolves throughout their career, a good one - with four or five. That's because werewolves, despite being much more capable, fast and strong than the best human soldiers, don't last too long. They handle the toughest tasks, they are thrown to the most inhuman circumstances. They fight full squads, don't back away before the heavy machinery. Their line of work rarely lets them meet a peaceful old age in the comfort of their beds. When one werewolf doesn't make it back from the battlefield - a handler usually gets assigned to the next one. An average handler has around a dozen werewolves left behind when he retires, a good one does everything possible so that this number doesn't grow over four.
Captain Price promised Soap the best handler. Of course, some werewolves could work alone, like Ghost did. But Johnny was far too socialized to reject that essential bond, only a handler could provide. He needed a mentor, a guiding hand, a new perspective. Soap didn't notice that, but without a handler he gradually grew irritated, caught up in a lap of frustration and a blind search for something. Something very important, that Johnny couldn't put a name to. But when Price brought him and you together in a little briefing room, a simple idea stroke him from the first sight.
Soap needed you.
Even before you opened your mouth, even before Price introduced you to each other - Johnny already knew. You exchanged standard courtesies, Soap thought, you would want to shake hands, but you straight extended your open palms towards his face and froze, allowing him to sniff you.
That meant Soap was not your first wolf. A good sign.
He cautiously inhaled your scent. There was something homely in it, something strangely familiar. And not even a trace of smell of fear or anger. You trusted him right away. Even a better sign. Soap nodded and smiled widely. After that minute you two became almost inseparable.
***
Usually, it takes a werewolf some time to ease up around a handler enough to show them their beast. Soap showed you on a second evening. You two were approaching the close combat polygon, when you dropped the inevitable question.
“Why ‘Soap’?”
He asked you to remind him, what's the time record for completing the longest route on polygon, neutralizing each target. When you answered, he tilted his head to the side and grinned. And that was no more his usual wide smile. Something new emerged from deep inside to his face. Something uncanny, predatory. Something wolfish.
“Watch this.”
Soap shifted in one long and swift stride, your eyes barely caught the smooth outlines of dark furred back as the massive beast disappeared in the tight corridors of the polygon without making any noise at all. In a mere seconds the automatic screen at the entrance began to flash with increasing numbers of neutralized targets. Soap didn't just beat the human time record, he cleared the area two times faster than the best soldiers could. Effective and unstoppable, he startled you with his incredible skills. But as soon as you checked the targets and exited the corridors - you were greeted by the happiest puppy in a body of a 200 kg beast.
“You did so well, look at you!” You reached out to his enormous head, not caring about rows of massive sharp teeth, that he proudly demonstrated you in an animalistic grin.
Soap was glowing with pride and eagerly offered his wide forehead for scratching. His tail was wagging in agitation, his electric blue gaze never left your eyes. You two knew each other just for a few days, but hugging his furry neck and scratching behind his ears felt so natural.
As if you both craved something as bright as this moment for a long time already.
Later that night his squad mates surrounded him in the common room.
“Had a good day, Sergeant?” Ghost glanced sideways at Soaps wagging tail, which never disappeared, even in human form.
“Mhm,showed her, where does mah callsign come fae,” Johnny didn't even try to mask his excitement.
“You look like she showed you, where does her callsign come from, in return,” Ghost leaned against the counter, while Soap roamed around the basket with snacks.
“Her ca' sign, what is it?” Johnny asked, taking a sip of coffee.
He regretted it a second later, when Price named it and Soap nearly chocked in surprise.
***
“Is it awfy much... If I ask ye how come dae thay call ye ‘Kiss’?”
Soap was slightly worried about asking you this, but when you answered ‘I can show you, just not here’ and lead him away from the cafeteria - the adrenalin fully kicked in, and his heart began racing.
This wasn't a childish anxiety before a possible kiss, oh no. The wolf in him sensed something off. And when you stopped in a deserted hall and lifted your fleece shirt - his suspicions were confirmed.
The nasty scar sprawled across your side and stomach like a relic of a battle, human could never win. Jagged and uneven, it was a map of chaos carved by fangs too wild to obey symmetry. The marks were deep, the flesh long since healed but forever transformed. Soap would distinguish wolves canine marks from any other type of scar.
“This is the kiss. Well, a goodbye kiss, to be more precise. Badass isn't it?” you tried to play it cool, but Soap didn't follow your lighthearted tone.
“Who?” He barked in response.
Johnny ignored your attempts to change a subject. His attention was drowning in paling conclaves, surrounded by puckered, pinkish, slightly risen flesh. When he repeated the question, you reached out with an open palm to his face level in a barrier gesture. An unspoken command, he wouldn't dare to not follow. This meant ‘stop whatever you are doing”’.
“It was my fault. My wolf. I had it coming.”
You gesture didn't hurt him, but this? This felt like a slap in the face. Your wolf? Dared to attack you, his handler? Now, this was low. Of course, there are bad handlers out there: stubborn, violent, or straight stupid. But a werewolf is a few times bigger than any handler. He can always walk away, escape a handler. Attacking one is an absolute bullshit for Johnny.
And also that ‘my wolf’. Soap didn't like the sound of it. Weeks beside you turned into months of training, working side by side on a battlefield and occasional leisure time. You were kinder than his previous handlers, you praised Johnny a lot. Yet he was always a ‘good’ wolf. And with time, Soap realized with bewilderment:
‘Good’ was not enough - Johnny wanted to be ‘your wolf’.
***
He thought about smile first thing every day. Soap loved it, how you grinned when he made a good joke or when you two goofed off after work. Sometimes you just made a sudden short jump or barked and his inner wolf immediately got into the game. You could pull over some rag with Soap in his wolf form and he loved every second of it. Not only because of the fun, but because of your wide smile, he could witness.
But that was not enough.
You were much more open to accidental physical contacts than other handlers. You let him sniff your neck and hands each time you came back to the base. Johnny needed to know, where you've been, what you ate, how you felt. He also lowkey needed to check if other wolves didn't get too close to you. Other handler would get mad in your place, but you just laughed as he buried his face in your collar and inhaled frantically.
But that also wasn't enough.
You praised him, made him the proudest wolf out there. Others would mark only his achievements, but not you. You praised Johnny for just being himself. Once you two were walking in the forest at the end of one evening. It was cold already, but Soap didn't notice that - he just hovered around you, not pausing friendly banter for a second. He didn't think about it too much, he just got a sudden urge to howl, which he immediately did. Soap stopped and stood still, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of untamed joy. His eyes, brighter than any human’s should be, were fixed on the glowing orb above. The first sound was low, a rumble from deep within his chest that hummed like a string being plucked in the marrow of the earth. Then it rose. His howl wasn't mournful, it was a cry of elation, an outpouring of gratitude for the night, the moon, the stars, and for you.
“So beautiful, Johnny!” you ruffled his hair, when Soap went silent. This was such a bright moment.
And even that was not enough.
Johnny painfully craved more. He gradually developed a sharper reaction at other wolves approaching you. Deathstares got replaced by guttural growls towards random soldiers turning to look at you. He had to force himself away from you after every greeting, because he started spending way too much time pressing his face against your skin.
He wasn't opposed to the idea of getting together with a human. But it got more complicated because of a wolf-handler dynamic you two developed. You weren't particularly strict, yet you turned his attempts to flirt into an endless banter.
Johnny wasn't proud of some thoughts you awoke in him. You were perfect to him. So delicate yet so strong. Your body would fit against his as though you were two puzzle pieces meant to find each other. Soap noticed that on many occasions when you stood close to him. He needed to touch you. Not with his forehead to your palm, as he usually did, confirming, that he obeys your command. Oh no.
He needed to wrap you in his embrace, to feel your heartbeat, to taste your skin, inhale the scent your body produced in a bliss of lust. Johnny wanted to make you tremble and moan. Lose your breath and forget, where you are. In his heated dreams, Soap felt his duality most acutely: the wolf hungering, the man savoring, both aching to never let the moment end.
Oh, the things he did. Beautiful sinful things.
Yet he still remained a ‘good wolf’.
Johnny grew tired of this in November. It suddenly became too cold without you right in his hands. And Soap made a plan. An Ideal date. He planned every minute of it, every word, every motion. Sadly, he had to postpone it due to Makarov reappearing on the horizon once again. But that was just a temporary barrier. They would get him very soon. And after that, he would do everything to finally become your wolf.
So thought John Mactavish on 21st of November, going down into the tunnel under Aimsley Street, short after 6 pm.
Sometimes, you feel bad for Soap. He has no control over his mouth sometimes and it lands him in some compromising positions. Like now.
He’s on his back, you sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. You’d been edging him for hours, bringing him right to the edge and stopping.
His cock was so hard, every throb leaving the member shaking. The tip was red and angry and his balls were pulled taut as he fought desperately for release.
To make matters worse, you’d made him wear a strap on just above his own cock. The whole time he was edged, he was jerking the fake cock just above his real one, while you stroked his actual member.
He was sweating, shaking, wrecked moans leaving his mouth.
“P-please! Please let me cum already! We’ve been at this for hours! I-I can’t take anymore!”
As he begs and moans, your slow pace up and down his cock continues. Eventually, you stop, your hand resting on the base of his cock.
His hand picks up the pace on the fake dick, jerking it furiously as if it were his own. His body couldn’t take it anymore and he came, but it was nothing like a real orgasm.
Cum dribbled out weakly as he moaned through a wet mouth. He was panting hard and his face was flushed.
“Oh Johnny… you came. Now let’s see if you can do it again.”
i've read your works and they are amazing! can i request the reader being bilingual and how the reactions of the cod members would be when they found out about it? (sorry for my bad english)
thank you in advance and have a good day/evening/night <3
(141, König, Alejandro Vargas, & Rudolfo Parra x GN!bilingual!reader)
TW: bad translations, fluff, some explicit sexual imagery, swearing.
Since you didn’t specify the language, I made executive decisions. A lot of google translate because I suck. Your English is great and probably better than my terrible translations! Much love<3
“Ah! ¿Hablas español? Eso es bueno, sera muy útil aquí.” (Ah! You speak spanish? That's good, it will be very useful here.) Alejandro replied, chuckling and smiling back at you.
Simon turns slightly to look at you while Rudy is driving, trying not to show his surprise.
Once you two exited the vehicle and were out of earshot of the others, he confronted you about the exchange.
“When’d you learn that?”
“Learn what?”
“C’mon. You know what I’m referring to.”
“I’ve always known it. Just never had a reason to speak it before.”
“You n’ him seem to hit it off…”
“You jealous, lieutenant?”
He forced a laugh through his nose.
“Mmm, yeah right. Just don’t get too friendly with him, yeah? You’ve got a job to do, sergeant.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, before quickly realizing his proximity and pulling away.
“Don’t worry, lieutenant. You'll always be my favorite." You joked, earning an eye roll from him.
"Get a move on, sergeant." He replied gruffly, though you could tell from his tensed shoulders that you flustered him with your sarcastic proclamation.
You'd have to tease him later in his quarters about it. You loved making him jealous and flustered, the way his skin would flush with embarrassment. In private, he was much easier to tease. Especially when you would straddle his lap, his jaw in your hand as you kissed his neck. The quiet, needy moans he'd make just for you as you grinded against him.
You shook your head and regained your focus, looking forward to your time alone with your lieutenant.
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish
“Dos francotiradores en la azotea oeste, Alejandro. Ten cuidado," (Two snipers on the west rooftop, Alejandro. Be careful.) you warned, peering around a wall.
Soap turned to look at you as you awaited orders.
"Since when could you speak spanish, love?" He inquired.
"My whole life?"
"Oi! And you never thought to tell me? An' you waited til now?" You could hear Alejandro chuckle as he listened over the comms.
"Surprise" You answered sarcastically, shrugging.
"Perhaps there's more things your partner didn't tell you, Sergeant MacTavish?" Alejandro teased.
"Aye, I'm gonna learn every last bit of you when this is through." Soap said, gazing at you suggestively.
He let his free hand graze your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek, all while looking deep into your eyes. You wanted to be off duty with him, making him moan into your mouth as his fingers curled in your hair. He was always so vocal and expressive, you loved it. As he leaned over to kiss you, shots rang out.
"Ah, shite. Goddammit." Soap whispered.
"Raincheck, Soap." You said, quickly pecking his cheek before leaving your shared cover in favor of hiding behind a truck.
He smiled and gave you a two-finger salute, turning in sync with you to clear the road.
Captain John Price
"'Ze komen om middernacht aan.'" You repeated quietly to yourself, translating what you overheard the smugglers say.
"Their contact is arriving at midnight, 0-6." You said to Price through comms.
"Copy, 2-6," Price responded quickly.
"I'll meet you on the boat as soon as Gaz takes out the patrol." You announced, waiting for Gaz.
"On it, 2-6," Gaz responded.
You finally made your way to the boat, meeting Price at the locked gate. Once the boat was cleared of narcos, he turned to you.
“Care to share with me how you knew when they were coming?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.
"Well, there were a few people speaking Dutch around the docks." You replied, not realizing that you had never told him about learning Dutch before.
"And you didn't care to mention you knew Dutch when we found out we were going to Amsterdam?" He pressed, clearly confused more than frustrated with you.
"Honestly, I'm so exhausted that I forgot I even could. I didn't think about it." You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.
His eyes filled with a mixture of pity and love as he finally looked over you, noting your slumped posture.
"I'll tell you what, you 'n me can head to a nice spot and get some rest before we head out in the morning. Get you a nice bed to sleep in for the night." He decided, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, careful not to press you too hard into his bulky vest.
"But if we have a nice bed, there's other things I'd rather be doing," you teased, grabbing his ass and pulling him further into you.
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you fully and resting his head on top of yours.
"We'll have time for that later, love. Don't you worry," he assured you. "You rest up first, then we'll see about that." He stated, finally pulling away to make his way off the boat as you trailed behind him towards your reward.
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
"What're they doing here?" Gaz wondered aloud.
"They're a narco smuggling hub" you replied simply, popping out of the water next to him.
"How do you know?" He asked.
"They're talking about an outgoing shipment to Las Almas." You remarked, watching the smugglers walk their patrol routes along the docks slowly. "Who else from Las Almas would be picking something up here?" You pointed out, proving your point.
"Since when do you understand Dutch?"
"Since I went to college for a year abroad."
A whole new side of you was revealed to Gaz in that moment. You never really mentioned anything about your past. What led you here, why you joined the military, what your life was like before. You joined the military unusually late, but no one had ever asked you why. He'd have to finally inquire about it after the mission.
"What else have you been hiding?" He teased, turning you by the shoulder to face him.
"Mmm, I'm actually a Russian spy that knows 5 languages and was assigned to infiltrate 141." You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him.
"Well they picked the best one for the job, with you being that sexy and all. We never stood a chance." He chuckled, pecking your cheek.
Alejandro Vargas
“Me encantaría tener una cita contigo, Alejandro.”(I’d love to go on a date with you, Alejandro.) You finally said, taking advantage of 141’s and Rudy’s absence. You didn’t feel like pretending you didn’t understand him anymore, as funny as some of the things you got to listen in on were.
“Me entendiste todo este tiempo?” (You understood me all this time?) His jaw practically hit the floor.
“Sí, todo este tiempo,” (Yes, all this time.) you laughed. You had heard everything Alejandro said to Rudy about you under the guise that you weren’t listening. You finally decided to reveal yourself when Alejandro mentioned to Rudy how he wanted to take you on a date after the mission was over.
He stood there, frozen, as he tried to recall everything he had ever said about you.
“You were always complimenting me and praising me when you thought I wasn’t listening. I didn’t want to just end that, you know?” You smiled, reassuring him that he hadn’t offended you.
“So you heard my plans and finally decided to tell me, hm?” He asked, regaining his composure.
“Something like that. But I wouldn’t mind pretending I didn’t understand if it means that I'll keep hearing you tell Rudy how amazing I am.”
"Ah, this will be fun. Let's pretend, yes? You can listen to all the things I want to do to you." he teased, smirking at you.
"That'll certainly keep things interesting, Ale." You blushed.
You were thinking about how quickly things had escalated between you two. How long before he actually did the things he said? His lips on your neck, whispering spanish in your ear, his hands on your ass. You wanted to grab him by his vest on the spot and curl your fingers in his hair. You could only imagine it for so long before you had to cast your thoughts away, trying to avoid getting so worked up on the job.
Rudolfo “Rudy” Parra
"This is Los Vaqueros to 141, Hassan is on the move." You stated over comms as you peered through your scope.
Rudy looked at you, confused. You realized that you didn't tell him you understood english before. When it came to talking to native english speakers, you always got too nervous and chickened out because you worried about your accent and grammar.
"Porque no me dijiste, mi amor? (Why didn't you tell me, my love?) He asked, noting how you had refused to say anything in english up until now.
"No lo use antes de ahora." (I didn't use it before now) "Tambien, mi ingles no es perfecto." (Also, my english isn't perfect.) You replied, intentionally neglecting to mention how nervous you were about being judged.
"Es bueno, estoy orgulloso de ti." (It's good, I am proud of you.) He assured you, smiling at you as you turned away from your rifle's scope.
"Gracias, Rudy. Pero, seguiremos hablando espanol cuando estemos solo, si?" (Thank you, Rudy. But we will still speak spanish when it is us alone, yes?) You inquired, hoping he wouldn't push it.
"A huevo, mi amor." (Of course, my love.) He agreed, you were pretty sure he figured out your reasoning. You leaned back into Rudy, letting his arms engulf you as you sighed. He put you at ease so quickly, almost making you forget that you were chasing down a terrorist assisted by narcos through Las Almas. But you couldn't bask in his calming presence forever, so you settle back into your previous position at your rifle.
He place his hand on your back gently, rubbing between your shoulders to keep you relaxed. You loved moments like this. No matter the situation, Rudy always did small gestures to remind you that he was right there beside you.
König
"Konig, gehst du mit mir auf ein Date?" (Konig, will you go on a date with me?" You asked, hopping atop a crate while facing him.
"What?" He asked, unable to process that you had just spoken German.
"Did I not say it correctly?" You asked, worried that your German was not up to par with your native English.
"No, no. Your German is great..." He replied slowly, gathering his thoughts.
"Is that a no?" You teased, knowing exactly what Konig was realizing.
"Shiebe, sorry, yes of course I would like that... Wait." He cut himself off, finally putting the pieces together.
"Wie lange hast du mich verstanden?" (How long have you understood me?) he inquired, panic starting to fill his voice.
"Ungefahr ein Jahr?"(About a year?) You admitted, guessing the time frame that you've known him.
"And you did not say anything?!" He panicked, thinking about everything he's every muttered about you and your body. He'd only known you for a year, meaning you've understood everything he's ever uttered.
"Well, I was gonna tell you right away, but then I heard you mutter about how pretty I was when I looked up at you... and I don't know, I guess I wanted to hear you say that more." You divulged, seeing Konig's eyes widen.
"I have said many things I shouldn't have, mein Gott..." He whispered to himself, mentally replaying everything he has ever said about you in your presence.
"If it makes you feel any better, I really like you, too, Konig." You professed, pulling his vest towards you.
A/N: I'm finally finishing my drafts, sorry for the delay! Much love. Ghost x reader x konig coming as soon as I clear my drafts!
