Friday night was the very godsend for a little relaxation. You're in a bar, you're a little drunk, and you're ovulating. And he's the most handsome guy here, just eye candy.
Very, very dirty dancing, you fucked him in the bathroom, in the parking lot, in the car, took him to your house.
First thing you hear in the morning when you wake up in his arms, “We need to make up a romantic and beautiful story about how we met.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I'm not gonna tell the truth to our grandchildren.”

State Trooper Price who has your car's make, model, color, and license plate memorized so he can pull you over every chance he can

Detective Riley who shows up at your door with a warrant even though he knows you have absolutely nothing to do with the crime at hand, so he just ends up staying for tea

Officer Garrick that makes sure to enter the coffee shop you stop at every morning to 'make sure he didn't have to put a missing person’s report in'

Rookie MacTavish who has no idea why all his superiors are so into this random civilian, until he sees you then he's suddenly getting "call after call" about suspicious figures in your development that he literally has to check out

State Trooper Price who has yet to actually give you a ticket

Detective Riley who tells you things you absolutely have no business knowing because he's sure you're not going to tell anyone

Officer Garrick who offers you rides in his patrol car and rides along the sidewalk talking to you when you refuse

Rookie MacTavish "accidently" mixing you up with a high-profile suspect so you end up in a holding cell under his watch for 12 hours

State Trooper Price who gives you a police escort to your destination because you were going to be late

Detective Riley who you know has been in your house while you were gone because you're down one tea bag and your newspapers have been read through

Officer Garrick who has a hand on his taser, ready to go because someone catcalled you

Rookie MacTavish who requests camera footage from the bar you were at with your friends so he can make sure nothing "illegal" (someone hitting on his lass) was happening

State Trooper Price that gives you his badge number so anytime you actually do get pulled over you can just whip it out and be let go (but when it gets back to him he'll make sure to hunt you down for his "thank you")

Detective Riley who suddenly buys the apartment right next door and need you to show him around the building

Officer Garrick who fends off every other officer for calls to your neighborhood

Rookie MacTavish who has your coffee and food order memorized so when he runs into you by chance, he'll already have it

and poor you, who can't even go to the police about any of it. (not that you really want to, you practically have the entire justice system in your back pocket and you don't even know what you did to deserve it)

“-I’ve spent every bloody briefing picturing’ ye bouncing on my cock in that goddamn conference chair, legs spread wide, skirt rucked up- oh, fuck, I can hear myself, please someone gag me-“

You almost trip over your own feet. Soap’s weight is all muscle and dramatic regret, arm slung around your shoulders as you half carry, half drag him out of the interrogation cell. Gaz is behind you, already losing it, shoulders shaking with laughter. Ghost is…well, Ghost, arms crossed, blocking every possible exit and holding all the guns out of reach.

“Truth serum’s a bitch, Johnny,” Gaz snickers. “Can’t wait to hear what else you’ve been hiding.”

Soap’s face is red. Not combat red, not out-of-breath red… just “my soul is leaving my body and it’s taking my dignity with it” red.

He stares straight ahead and groans, the words tumbling out like a confessional on speed. “D’you know I’ve had dreams- actual dreams, like REM sleep; where I’m eatin’ you out in the back of the Rover while Price tries not to crash? And then I wake up and gotta hide a boner all through briefing- fuckin’ hell, I hate this!”

Ghost drawls, unapologetic: “Don’t stop on my account, Johnny. Been a slow week.”

Soap turns to you, desperate “You believe me, right? I don’t want to say this! But my mouth’s got a mind of its own and my mind is just screaming ‘don’t mention the thigh thing, don’t mention the thigh thing- ’ oh, brilliant, now I’m thinking about your thighs. Wanna have your legs over my shoulders while I make you beg, want you whimperin’ and sayin’ my name, christ, just- someone gag me, please, before I die of shame.”

You snort, and he’s so loud the medics look up in alarm as you haul him into the clinic.

“Can I get a sedative or a muzzle?” Soap begs. “Maybe just tie me down, but not in the fun way- oh, fuck, now I’m picturing it in the fun way, shit- rope burn on your wrists, my hand in your hair- GAZ, STOP LAUGHING.”

Gaz wipes away tears. “I dunno, mate, I’m learning so much.”

Soap blinks up at the ceiling in despair. “Right, and I’ll never be able to look at any of you again. Especially you, love. Gonna haunt my nightmares, you will. And my daydreams. D’you know how many times I’ve pictured you bendin’ over the conference table? Do you?”

You try to give Soap a dry look but it comes out amused. “Johnny, focus. Stay with me. Try thinking about something else.”

Soap, instantly, blurts out: “I’ve pictured you sittin’ on my face. I’d skip meals for it, I swear. Breakfast, lunch, dinner- just you, right here-” (he actually points to his mouth; Gaz almost collapses.)

Ghost, utterly deadpan: “Medic says you’ll live. Shame about your reputation, though.”

Soap glares. “You wanna help me, Simon? Or just stand there, looking smug?”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’. “This is the most fun I’ve had in months.”

“Love, can you at least pretend you’re not enjoyin’ this? Please? I’ve got one brain cell left and it’s losing the will to live.” Soap pleads.

You pat his chest; maybe too gently. “Almost done, Johnny. You’re doing great.”

“You say ‘good boy’ one more time, I’ll embarrass myself right here in the med bay.” Soap whines. “Already halfway there, honestly- hell, I’ve been picturing your hand around my cock since day one, every night, every cold shower, every bloody PT run- oh god, make it STOP-“

Gaz straights and grins. “Price is on comms. Wants to know what you’re confessing to.”

Soap, looking to heaven and squeezes his eyes. He genuinely tries to bite his lip and keep it inside but the truth serum spews out regardless. “Tell him I said sorry. And that if he doesn’t want me sayin’ how he calls out your name in his sleep, he best not leave me alone with this bloody serum-”

There’s a pause before Ghost informs him. “Heard that. He’s gonna kill you.”

Soap sighs, slumping on the gurney, mortified but somehow still going. “Aye. I’ll die as I lived. Horny and surrounded by bastards.”

He looks up at you, all desperate, blue eyes and a prayer. “Seriously. If someone doesn’t knock me out, I swear to god, Simon, if you don’t give me my gun right now-!”

Ghost just grins like the bastard he is. “Negative, Johnny. You’re the entertainment.”

Outside of work, you live in your loungewear, so you’ve made it a habit to immediately shed your work pants when you get home. You don't think about it too much anymore until you start dating Johnny.

The first time you strip your pants in the entryway while he’s over, Johnny takes it as an open invitation where he's between your legs before you can even explain yourself. It's a while before you make it any further into your home and even longer before your legs stop wobbling.

Johnny's like a dog now, eagerly awaiting your return and rushing to the door when he hears the lock turning. Ready to yank those restrictive pants off of you like the helpful boyfriend he is.

Top Donator (1)

Summary: Johnny is tuned in like always, until the guest moans and he realizes he knows exactly whose cock you’re drooling over

Cw: smut (mdni), voyeurism, sex work (camgirl), masturbation (male), age gap, unprotected sex, fixation/obsession tone, brief ideation of MMF threesome

Word count: 985

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reader at a bar being approached by johnny ‘my wife thinks you’re attractive’ mactavish but his wife is 6’4, 250lbs, wears a skull balaclava in public and is staring you down like you killed his mother

John "6 ft on tinder" Mactavish who has always gotten the short end of the stick from the rest of the 141 for being 5'11". who has seen and heard beautiful women excuse all kinds of behavior just because they have to look up at Ghost or Price. who has had Gaz pat his shoulder one too many times and tell the bird he's chatting up, "man's lying about his height." and who is frankly, fucking tired of it. watching with barely disguised malice as Gaz (who is barely over 6'!! the nerve of that man!!) hits on you at the bar, strikes out. and is immediately replaced by Price, then Ghost, each man taller than the last. each one gauranteed the lay if only because of his height, sulking back to their seat after less than a minutes conversation with you.

"the height not workin' out fer ya, ya deciduous bastards?" Soap grumbles.

"bird doesnt date horses," Ghost grunts.

"they what?" Soap's mouth twitches.

"don't date horses," Price grumbles, his lighter sparking pathetically as he tries to light his cigar.

"and that means?"

"Anyone over 6 foot," Gaz slumps, tipping the last dregs of his pint back and forth in the glass.

Soap nearly vaults the table, scrambling to spin you from the bar and announce,

"Ahm 5' 11"!"

you bite your lip hard against your grin, its the sweetest thing he's ever seen.

"could wear tall heels around me and ah won't complain," he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, "the horses have me well trained lookin' up."

"how about from your knees?" you laugh, reaching to hook a finger in his belt loops.

he drops before you even get the chance.

Endeavor & Tamaki❤️‍🔥🐙

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For those who didn't know, I also make custom anime and Disney clothing.