#Johnny mctavish imagine

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Just a Taste | Johnny "Soap" McTavish x Reader

Follow up to Boyfriend!Soap drabble. Summary: You've given Johnny permission to fuck you while you sleep. He needs a little encouragement. Warnings: Somnophilia, consensual somno, pussy eating, dirty talk, PiV (unprotected, wrap it up folks). Wordcount: 1.8k [AO3]

CoD/141 Masterlist Main Masterlist

Johnny can’t sleep.

Ever since you told him he could fuck you while you slept, it’s been on his mind every time the two of you go to bed. But every time he tries to muster the courage to do it, he chickens out. It’s like an itch at the back of his brain, taunting him mercilessly.

He rolls over, looking at you as you sleep with your back to him, stark naked with the covers loosely draped around your middle. He watches you for a few minutes, trying to ignore the way his dick twitches when you let out a soft whine in your sleep as you stretch.

“Depraved cunt,” Soap groans, reprimanding himself as he wraps his thick fingers around his shaft.

He lets out a pained moan as he pumps his length at a leisurely pace. His fingers are coated in precome already and he blushes at the realisation of how keyed up he is.

“You’re a fuckin’ siren, temptin’ me with that kinky little idea,” he breathes into the space between you as he picks up the pace, breath coming in ragged bursts as he tries not to jostle the bed too hard.

“Just wanna stuff my cock in yer slick little hole,” he groans a little louder this time as he feels his stomach flutter with his impending release.

He’s about to whisper more filth when you move suddenly.

Soap watches in awe as you roll onto your back, tits jiggling in the moonlight that spills in from the window. He tries to stop the inevitable, gripping the base of his cock as a sweet, soft sigh slips from your lips.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he rolls onto his back, exploding over his abdomen as he comes hard. His balls tighten as hot ropes of come splatter across his skin, his chest heaving as he sees stars. He huffs despondently as he feels his come cooling uncomfortably on his belly as you let out a soft snore.

He laughs to himself as he tries to muster the energy to get up and clean himself off.

“Temptress,” he growls under his breath as you sleep seemingly oblivious next to him.

~*~

You sigh as you hear the faucet running in your en-suite. You were certain Soap would do it this time. Ever since you told him he could fuck you while you slept you’ve been desperate for him to just do it already.

But there’s something painfully sweet at the way Soap is struggling to take the plunge and just use you. Last night you slept in just a pretty pair of pink cotton panties. He’d gotten as far as grinding against your ass before ducking out to wank in the bathroom.

Tonight, you thought sleeping nude would have tipped him over the edge. If anything, he seemed even more hesitant to touch you. You need to get creative.

~*~

Every day since, you’d put on a show for him. When you came home you had stripped bare, before putting on one of his old ratty t shirts and nothing else. Every other movement meant Soap had a front row seat to your ass, or your bare pussy, or sometimes a combination of both.

The worst part: You wouldn’t let him touch you.

Tonight, you had been sprawled out on the sofa, legs spread as you had your head in his lap as you watched TV. He’d tried to subtly cop a feel, his dick achingly hard as he trailed his fingertips up the inside of your thigh.

“Not feeling it babe,” you had whined, batting his hand away just as he reached the apex of your thighs.

“Hen, come on,” he had groaned, looking down at you with a pained look on his face. He had felt the damp evidence of your arousal, you made sure of it before batting his hand away.

“Going to go to bed,” you had yawned dramatically before sauntering off to bed, making sure to raise your arms up in an exaggerated stretch, baring your ass to him before disappearing into the bedroom.

Now, Soap is curled around you, dick pressed against the valley of your ass as you rock backwards on it, seemingly fast asleep. You’re still in his t-shirt, and he knows he won’t be able to hold back tonight. He can smell himself on you as he buries his nose just behind your ear.

“Hen?”

You grunt noncommittally as you feign sleep, wriggling away from him a little before turning on your front, purposefully riding your shirt up to expose your ass and lower back.

You hear him exhale heavily behind you and you panic, worried he’s about to give up and either wank alone or just go to sleep. You make a split-second decision and hitch one of your knees up, gasping sleepily as you feel cool air hit your cunt.

“Fuck it,” you hear him growl and you have to stop yourself from reacting as you feel the mattress dip behind you as he repositions, “Goin’ to hell for his.”

You feel him gently, gingerly, drag his calloused fingertips along your skin. They catch and drag over the backs of your heels, scraping up and over the meat of your calves. You can’t help but shudder as they weave over the tender skin on the back of your knees.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this, can’t help myself,” Johnny groans low as you feel his broad palms press into the backs of your thighs, spreading them out to expose your dripping cunt to him. You bite your lip, desperate to keep up the act of being sound asleep as his thumbs push your pillowy cheeks apart.

“Look at that bonnie little cunt,” he whispers, and you clench, unable to stop yourself reacting to his slurred praise, “Just a taste, that’s all I need.”

You tremble in anticipation as you feel his broad form settle between your spread legs, hot breath fanning against your thighs as he inches his mouth closer to your dripping folds.

Johnny’s tongue swirls around your entrance; the blunt tip teasing and cruel in the way he presses hard enough to make you clench, but not deep enough to breach your hole.

“Like fuckin’ honey,” Johnny groans as he continues to tease you, lapping up your slick as he settles further into the apex of your thighs, “Still asleep hen?”

You bite your lip as you shudder, trying to stay as still as you can as you feel him kiss your folds gently. His soft lips and tender tongue devour your slick cunt as he takes a heady inhale of your cunt.

“Wonder if I can make you come like this lass? Yeah, I bet I can.”

You try not to squirm as you feel his tongue flick over your clit. It’s probing, teasing, torture as he sucks it between his lips. The wet push and pull of his mouth on your sensitive bud is almost too much as you let a soft moan slip from your lips as you try and muffle it in the pillow beneath you.

“Yeah, you like that?” Johnny mumbles against your cunt as he brings two fingers up to your core, “Dirty lass,” he huffs as he pushes them deep inside you. You whimper as you feel the spill of arousal flood through you. You can’t hold back with the way Johnny is pumping his thick fingers inside you, suckling at your clit, and groaning deep as he ruts into the mattress below him.

“There you go, good lass,” he growls as he rakes his teeth over your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge, “Come for me hen.”

And you do.

Your whole body quakes with ripples of pleasure as you clamp down on Johnny’s fingers. Your teeth sink into the pillowcase as you stifle the scream that bubbles in your throat.

“Such a nasty girl,” Johnny groans as he eases his fingers out, “Be a shame not to fuck your desperate little cunt right now.”

You try not to squeal in anticipation at his admission. You’re so ready for this, so desperate for him to use you.

“Johnny,” you sigh, trying to sound sleepy as you squirm beneath him, and you feel him freeze behind you. You smirk to yourself as you wriggle beneath him, your knees pulling up under you as you bare yourself to him, silently begging him to fuck you.

“Sure you’re not awake lass?” He chuckles, already lining his weeping tip against your core. You feel the way his tip stretches you out instantly and you’re gushing for it. You offer him a soft “hmpf” in response that only compels Soap to press his thick cock deep inside you. You cry out at the stretch and there’s no concealing the fact you’re awake any longer.

“There she is,” Johnny growls as he slides his hands over your ass cheeks, landing on your hips as he pulls you back onto his thick length, “Knew you weren’t asleep.”

“Johnny,” you whine as he spears you from behind as he snaps his hips forward, “Jus’ wanted you to have fun, use me.”

“I know hen,” he rasps through gritted teeth, “Fucking idiot I am, next time I’ll fuck you stupid, wake you up as I split you on my cock.”

“Fuck yes,” you whine as he fucks down into you hard and fast, punching the air from your lungs as you look over your shoulder.

“Gonna come in this tight little cunt lass,” Johnny wheezes as you feel his brutal pace stutter as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck me Johnny, fuck me!” You scream as your orgasm hits you like a truck. You cry out as you come hard around his cock, clenching hard as you fall limp into the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck!” Johnny exhales with a low grunt as he empties his balls, coating your insides as he continues to rut into your sopping cunt as he fills you with his spend.

Your cunt clamps down on him as you milk him dry and it seems like a lifetime before both of your trembling, overstimulated bodies still.

“Fuckin’ bewitched me lass, that was somethin’ else,” Johnny wheezes as he falls forward, lips pressed against the back of your neck as he slides his softening cock out of you.

“Glad you liked it,” you huff as you feel his weight bear down on you as you fall forward, letting his broad form press you down into the mattress.

“Fuckin’ loved it,” he says with a huff as he nips at the column of your neck.

You lie there for some time, sleep pulling at your eyelids as you try and fight off the allure of sexually sated contentment.

“C’mon Johnny, let’s get showered and head to bed,” you say wearily as you let his large form smother you from behind.

“Aye, lass,” he breathes against your cooling skin, “After you.”

CoD/141 MasterlistMain Masterlist

#john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #soap mw2 #soap call of duty #soap x you #soap x y/n #soap imagine #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish #Johnny mctavish imagine #johnny mctavish x you #cod imagine #cod mwii #fanfic #boyfriend!soap #boyfriend!johnny mctavish #somno k!nk #soft somno #tw somno #tw somnophilia

[romanticintheory]

request rules (call of duty)

hi y'all, i'm rara! :) as of today, i'm opening up requests for call of duty! please refer to the list below before requesting from me.

characters i write for:

kyle garrick johnny mctavish simon riley john price and maybe könig (i don't know much about him)

off limits:

smut cannibalism infantilization

if there's something not listed here that you are unsure if i'm okay with, just ask/request anyway and i will respond accordingly! ok that's all, love you <3

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #tf141 x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #call of duty imagine #cod imagine #kyle garrick imagine #simon riley imagine #john price imagine #johnny mctavish imagine

[chaosandmarigolds]

“No, no no, baby-baby let mama talk-“ much to your dismay your toddler already took off with the tablet down the hall with your husband on face time. With a disgruntled huff you walk down the hall and move to open the door only to falter for a moment as you hear your husbands voice.

“Takin’ care of your mum, bubs?”

“Des sir.”

“Why you runnin’ from her then?”

“Caasaaus I wanna talk to you and when mummy starts to talk to you she doesn’t share.”

A gruff laugh, “Alright alright, well what do you wanna talk about then, lad?”

You stand outside the door for a solid ten minutes before you knocked on the door and moved your son to your lap to smile down at your husband.

“Hey, honey.”

“Hey, hot stuff.”

You see him roll his eyes and you bite back a smile.

“Lad told me you’re not sharin enough.”

You playfully gasp, which triggered your sons giddy laughter, “No! Really??”

“Really!”

#lil blerb #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #johnny mactavish #cod x y/n #cod x you #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #cod imagine #cod fluff #simon fluff #soap x reader #soap fluff #simon riley x female reader #x female!reader

[the-faceless-bride]

141 Neighbors imagine

The boys have been in a relationship for a long time. They've all taken a small break from the feiled after Johnny almost dying... they have been staying in a small and sweet place, a nice flat for them to share.

And while not out on the feiled, they still worked overtime. And weren't home often; and when they were, they always just got some takeaway and loved each other before going to work the next morning.

You had noticed this; You had lived in the flat adjacent to the four hunks. You lived alone in your cute, comfy flat with your cat "Binks,".

You didn't like that they lived off cheap takeaway and three hours of sleep at most. So you decided to be a kind neighbor and give them a good home cooked meal. You made extra for dinner that night, packaging the warm meal and leaving it at their door with a small and short note.

John slowly walks to the door after hearing the soft 'tap tap tap' outside his door. His hand rested on the gun on his hip in case things went south after opening the door.

But nobody was there, he looked down and saw a small basket and a note. "W'as tha?" Johnny asked, coming up behind his former captian; picking up the small basket and bringing it into his lovers home.

"Trying to be a friendly neighbor, I noticed all the takeaway, and I thought you'd all enjoy a nice meal," a short note and nothing more. John didn't trust it, showing it to Simon and Kyle, and Simon agreed. It was too suspicious, Kyle wanted to think maybe their was a kind soul, but knowing their line of work, he wasn't sure.

"I don' kno 'bout ye, but I t'ink this 's delicious." The three men looking to their other lover and to their shock and horror he was munching away on the mysterious meal. "JOHNNY," Simon yelled in disappointment and fear, "well, how are you feeling?" Kyle asked, unsure if this was 100% safe.

"Feel great," the Scott says before taking another spoon full. Kyle shrugs, and they all settle into a comfortable silence as they eat the dinner from their friendly neighbor.

This becomes a normal occurrence. They hear a rapping on their door, and when they open the door, there is a meal waiting, but nobody there.

They didn't know who their friendly neighbor was, but they were thankful for the warm meals. However, one day Johnny came home after a last-minute grocery run and spots you.

Placing the basket on their door quickly knocking before rushing to your door and shushing your fluffy cat as it meows at your feet. Johnny found you cute, and he knew his lovers would love to know you too.

Sorry for the poorly written and rushed little imagine, I'm very tired and I just wanted to write this down before I forgot about it. Maybe make this a real fic later, it'll be written way better I promise.

#taskforce 141 #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #cod imagine #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #kyle x reader #kyle x johnny #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 x reader

[callsignmarz]

Texting the COD Men

POV : They’re jealous

MDNI | 18+ | NSFW

#call of duty #call of duty imagine #jealousy #mw2 imagine #cod keegan #keegan cod #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap cod #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #rudy parra #rudy cod #rudy x reader #alejandro call of duty #sebastian krueger #cod krueger #krueger x you #john price #captain price #cod price #price mw2 #gaz cod

[killerpancakeburger]

Imagine not being able to spend Valentine Days with Soap so you send him flowers and chocolates to base. Johnny's over the fucking moon when he finds it in his room with a card from you.

Almost the entire base makes fun of him for it - macho military culture dictates - but he's so ecstatic, he doesn't even notice the unpleasant comments and the judgmental stares. Even when some gets all in his face about it, the sarcasm goes way over his head. How could anyone think you're anything but the best partner ever and that he's elated that he gets to date you? He will brag about it and about you to any soul willing to listen - and even some unwilling.

The Task Force teases him endearingly at first, but after hearing about it for the 16th time today, they start losing it a bit. Text you their complaints. You only reply "LOL wish I was there xoxo". Price has to beg Soap to let the cleaning staff do their fucking job and throw away the bouquet that has been dried and dead for days now.

Johnny's always been the competitive type though, so when you two meet again, he dumps in your arms a bigger bouquet, a bigger box of chocolate and a plushie so huge it barely fits in your arms. That's an outcome you did not anticipated and the TF laughs when they see you struggling to carry it all - sweet revenge from when you ignored their complaints.

"Johnny wtf it's not a competition"

"Life's a competition Bonnie. Need a hand?"

"Yeah"

He picks you up instead of picking up the presents.

"MACTAVISH FOR THE LOVE OF-"

#rambling into the void #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod soap #soap cod #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod imagine #mine #im on a roll lol #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #fluff #i love the hc of soap showing off his partner every chance he gets #he likes to brag about himself cos he knows his worth and knows he deserves it #and the same way he loves to brag about you cos he knows your worth and that you deserves it. specially if youre not the type to brag #1k

[manticore-fangs]

POV: you (trying to) baby-trap soap.

cw: breeding, dub-con/non-con?? leg-locking, idk what else. you’ve been warned

johnny’s hands on your hips as he fucks into your slick cunt, moaning and groaning above you. fucking the living hell out of you. the squelching noises bouncing off the walls while you moan so sweetly like candy. though you did lie about being on your birth control while fucking johnny, knowing he has a breeding kink. you just want his kid so bad! so why not fuck him when your ovulating and off those pills!!

you throw your head back, your legs thrown over johnnys shoulders. you huff and moan, writhing around. the pleasure being almost unbearable at the fact he’s almost hitting your cervix. sore from the bruising of his grip on the back of your thighs and sore from the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot so well.

“fuck lassie. need’ya pussy so bad- need to breed ya’ pussy with ma’ loads.” he moans out with a whine. thrusting even harder with the pace he’s at now. you start to leg lock him, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking him in to not waste his cum. while locking him, you claw at his back. desperately trying to grip something and distract him from noticing how your leg locking him so intensely.

“lemme fill ya’ with ma’ babes lassie- please. need tae’ get ye’ barefoot and pregnan’ fer me.” he grunts out, slamming his hips against yours harshly. most likely to leave bruises in his way of fucking the living shit out of you. you nod your head at his words. “yes, yes! please get me pregnant johnny- want your babies so bad. promise you’ll give me your kids, promise me please.” you bet with the man, forcing him to make a promise with you while the pleasure starts to spike.

“i promise. i promise ya’. i’ll fill yer womb with ma’ babes, i promise you tha’. trust me, i’m dumpin’ my loads into ya’ as much as possible. forcing my loads inside your womb so you can give me some babies.” he rambles on. you moan loudly at every single word, grabbing at his shoulders and back. scratching him as you guys both get closer to the edge. a large wave pulling back and-

“fuck, give it tae’ me lassies, give me yer orgasm. c’mon, let johnny fuck his cum into ya’.” and that breaks you too pieces. legs shaking yet staying still as your leg is still locked around his waist. before he realizes he can’t pull out. “cannae’ pull out lassie- gotta-“ “no!” you say, tears rolling down your cheeks. “no, want you to come in me please. please johnny need to feel it.” you start to hump into him while he whimpers. nodding to you as you speak, beginning to thrust up into you to chase his orgasm.

the overstimulation consuming you as you go under, finally feeling the warmth of johnny’s seed inside your cunny. so you do is rest and lay numb in the bed. johnny rolls over, grabbing you and flipping you onto him. your feeling horribly tired from the rough fuck but right as you let sleep take you. you hear the words.

“i kno’ ya’ stopped taking yer birth control. don’t worry lass. i switched ‘em out for sugar pills anyways.”

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #soap x reader #cod mwii #cod soap #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap smut #soap x you #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish smut #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish imagine #johnny mactavish #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon

[tropes-and-tales]

Dyin' for a Taste

Day 11:  Face Sitting (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Idiots in love; pining; smut (oral, f!receiving); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4096

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: When I say this is not edited, please know it is NOT EDITED. Full of typos and sloppy typing. Tropes is a fat-fingered old crone.

It starts with a joke.

The 141 is on a covert ops in the mountains.  It’s cold—the sort of cold that burns, that makes the bones ache.  You’re posted up in a perch, your sniper’s rifle at the ready if shit goes south.  The rest of the team is in the square below, waiting for the drop.

“My bollacks are gonna freeze off,” Soap complains over the comms, and you snort at the whining tone in his soft Scottish brogue. 

“Shoulda dressed for the weather,” you reply.  “Ghost probably has a spare balaclava.”

“And cover this handsome face?”

“Won’t be so handsome when your nose turns black from frostbite.”

You hear the tsch noise he makes over the comms, the very Soap, very Scottish noise of dismissal. 

“You’ll have to sit on my face then, hen, and warm me back up,” he says.

You’re rarely stunned into silence—you and the guys are always making off-color jokes—but when you open your mouth to reply, you only gape wordlessly.  The silence over the comms grows, expands, until Gaz—fucking Gaz—chimes in.

“I think she’s into the idea, bruv.”

And you can’t respond to that fast enough either, which leaves another long beat of silence over the comms, which likely seems like enough of an answer.

-----

The mission goes smoothly.  The team splits up as planned to avoid drawing attention.  You don’t see Soap again until a few days later when you regroup at HQ.

You think, perhaps, that he’s forgotten.  Maybe that’d be better.  You and Soap get along well, and sometimes he flirts with you, but he flirts with everyone.  It means nothing. 

And yet…

And yet, it’s Soap.  You might be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself:  you’ve spent many a lonely night with your thoughts drifting to him.  Turning him over and over in your mind. 

Soap MacTavish.  Handsome, almost unbearably so.  He could be a cocky asshole, be the sort of man who knows he’s hot and be insufferable about it, but he’s gregarious.  Friendly.  He’s a happy-go-lucky sort of man—or as much as someone in the One-Four-One can be.

-----

“Been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question.  Soap corners you in the mess hall, his blue eyes peering at you without guile.  He looks almost concerned.

“I haven’t,” you reply.  You try to shift past him, but he puts a hand out against the doorway, bars you with his arm.

“You have.”  He peers at you closer, his blue eyes somber.  “What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

You thought, perhaps, that he’d forgotten…but those somber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, then smooth out as he schools his expression.

“Maybe you think my offer was wrong,” he says.

“I never said that.”  You duck under his arm, but he lays his hand on your shoulder and stills you again.

“You’ve never said anything about it.”  You don’t look at him, but you hear his gentle snort of laughter.  “Your silence is deafening.”

You feel your face start to heat up because he’s not wrong.  Too much time has passed now to address that moment in the mountains.  You should have said something then, spat out some rejoinder to signal that it meant nothing to you, that it was just another dumb joke between you and Soap.  But something about that dumb joke conjures up the mental image of you and Soap, and your face burns in embarrassment.

So you duck from his light grip on your shoulder and it makes him laugh again, then call out to your retreating form, “the offer still stands, hen.”

-----

A month passes, then another.  You get leave for a few weeks and go someplace warm, a beach with golden sand and soft breezes where you can relax and forget the horrors of what you see every day.

Then you’re back on base, then another mission.  Over and over, the same routine.

Through it all:  Soap MacTavish, the team’s Golden Retriever.  Always with an easy grin on his handsome face, a laugh, a joke.  He teases Ghost, he does a passable impression of Captain Price.  He gives Gaz a hard time about their rival rugby teams, but it’s always good-natured. 

He jokes with you, but that joke—the one about sitting on his face—becomes just a joke between the two of you.  You don’t know if the other men have forgotten it, but Soap only brings it up when you’re alone now.

At the barracks, in the rec room, he’s sprawled out on the couch and half-dozing, half-watching a rugby match.  When you walk past, he notices, sits up.  Beckons you over, tells you to have a seat…then thoughtfully strokes his face with that damned smirk and comically waggling eyebrows.

“You’re a jackass,” you call out as you leave the room, but by now, it makes you laugh…and it lightly stokes that ever-burning flame low in your belly.

-----

Another time, he sidles up to you at the range as you study your targets with their tight formation of bullet holes.  He points out one shot, high in the corner of the paper, off of the concentric circles of the bullseye.

“Missed one,” he says.

You scoff.  “One out of….many.”

He matches your scoff with one of his own.  “Might be losing your edge.”

“I’m not.”  You know he’s winding you up, but that missed shot galls you. 

“Maybe you’re stressed out.”

You set the target down on the wooden railing.  “Maybe you’re stressing me out, MacTavish.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.  His blue eyes light up in glee, and he only gets out the first part of his retort—You know what’s good for de-stressing—before you drop to one knee and start disassembling your sniper rifle, ducking your head and hiding your burning cheeks from him.

“…nothing wrong with it,” he finishes as you shut the rifle’s case, and you realize you’ve missed part of what he’s said.

“There isn’t,” you agree.  You stand up and lean a bit on the courage that sees you through each mission.  You look him square in the eye and add, “but you’re just flirting.”

He gazes back at you, a soft smile on his face, only a little teasing.  “Not just flirting.”

“Sure.”  You roll your eyes.

He makes his Soap-branded tsch sound, then he loops his arm around your shoulders to pull you in close.  He smells like…well, he smells like soap, clean with a hint of something herbal.  It’s nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times—in safe houses after a mission, walking out of a bar on a night out with the team—that companionable way he pulls you against him.

“It makes me sad when you don’t believe me, hen,” he chuckles, and it’s low, right by your ear, his warm breath fanning over you. 

You’re not sure what spurs your next move.  You’re a natural-born sniper; you take the measure of everything around you—the curve of the earth, the speed and direction of the wind—before you squeeze your trigger.  You’re the same with people, cautious and feeling out every angle of their intentions before you make a move.  But you know Soap, and the question around his joke is the only uncertainty.

Something makes you act without much thought.  Your rifle case in your hand, your other hand tucked in your pocket, and Soap’s arm slung around your shoulders…the moment is crystalized, will be an easy memory to recall in the years to come because this is when everything between the two of you changes.

“You know what?” you ask, and you don’t allow him to hazard a guess.  Instead, you gaze at him levelly, straight into those bright blue eyes of his and add, “alright, let’s do this.”

It’s comical, how the smile drops from his face, how his mouth makes a little “oh” of surprise.  His eyes scan your face, quick, like he’s trying to find the joke, trying to find proof you’re just having a laugh at his expense.

“Bonnie,” he starts to say, and his voice has a rough edge to it.  His voice is missing its usual teasing edge, and he pauses to study you.  You don’t know if he realizes it, but the tip of his tongue darts out, licks against his lower lip, like he’s really thinking of it now that it could be a reality.

“Bonnie, are you just…are ye fer real?”  His voice is lower and his accent gets thicker, and it sets a frisson of heat shimmering through your lower belly.

You refuse to blink.  Refuse to look away.  “I’m for real if you are.”

“I was never joking about that.”

“Then I’m not joking either.”  You swing your rifle case towards the barracks, playing at bravery but willing the fluttery feeling in your stomach to calm.  “So let’s go.”

Soap—gregarious, convivial Soap—says nothing else on the walk back.  He keeps his arm around your shoulders, though, and his hand settles against your bicep, rubs you briskly before gently holding you there, like he’s proving to himself that you’re real, that the moment is really happening.

-----

Your nerve wobbles a little when you get back to quarters.  Soap’s nerves must have a similar wobble, because he turns to you and his usual boyish grin is gone, replaced by a grave expression.

“You dinnae have to do this,” he says, “if you don’t want to.”

Part of you wants to back out, chuck him in the arm and say it was just a joke.  You could still back out.  Soap is flirty and gregarious, but hooking up would irrevocably change your easy relationship with him.  It could change the tenor of the team.  And yet…

…don’t you both face death every day?  Don’t you see the absolute worst of humanity?  Don’t your bodies bear the scars of your hard, unrelenting lives—countless scars, visible and invisible both?  Don’t you all operate in your own bubbles of loneliness, sleeping alone night after night but crowded out by the ghosts you all haul around?

Is it too much to ask for even a moment of connection, of not feeling alone?

You gaze back at him.  Sweet Johnny MacTavish.  Handsome but not vain, smart but not aloof, funny without being cruel about his teasing.  Is there anyone you’d rather be with?

“I want to do this,” you tell him, and there’s no hesitation in your tone.  “If you do.  If you really were just joking around, then no harm, Johnny.”

His somber gaze softens at your use of his real name.  “Wasn’t joking at all.”  Then he opens the door to his quarters and turns to you, invites you in with a sweep of his hand, and when you walk past him, he lays his palm on your lower back to guide you.

-----

In truth, you’ve never actually sat on anyone’s face.  It’s one of those funny sex acts that you joke around about but have never gotten around to, like sixty-nine (always seemed more complicated than necessary) or food-play (always seemed too messy). 

Soap, it turns out, has never actually had his face sat on.

And it’s adorable, how he sheepishly runs his hand through the longer stripe of his short-shorn hair and admits as much.

“Figured it cannae be that complicated though,” he says.  He huffs out a breath, and you realize how nervous he must be, and it gives you courage to take charge.

“Kiss me first.  Then we can figure it out from there.”

The tame command makes his face light up and he murmurs, “yes, ma’am” in his brogue, and then he does as you say.

If Soap MacTavish is generally the team’s Golden Retriever, bouncing around with a wagging tail, he kisses with far more finesse.  He cups your face gently, reverently and leans forward, brushes the lightest of kisses against your lips like he’s testing the waters.  Like he’s waiting for you to pull away, and when you don’t, he kisses you again.

It’s awkward at first, but only because you’re both so tentative.  It’s uncharted territory.  He must be aware that you’re crossing a line in doing this, you think, and he must not care either.  But the awkwardness melts away quickly because Soap is a damned good kisser, skilled in how he moves his mouth against yours, his tongue against yours.  One of his hands stays on your face, cupping you gently and steering you, but the other hand touches your waist, your hip, slides around to squeeze your ass gently before returning to the dip of your waist.

He tastes like something warm and spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg.  Everything about him is warm, really:  the way he cups your face but runs his thumb over your cheekbone, the way his other hand holds you steady as he kisses you.  And the way he looks at you when he breaks the kiss, the almost-shy way he tugs at the hem of your shirt and asks if he can take it off.

He’s warm too—his body, his skin as you bare it with each article of clothing shed.  You strip each other in tandem, and the sight of him leaves you breathless.  He’s like something carved by a Renaissance sculptor, but when you smooth your palms over the dips and swells of his muscles, you find that he’s warm to the touch, wonderfully so, and a wave of lust almost takes you out at the knees by how much you want to feel his body against yours, under you or on top of you, every inch of you pressed against him.

Soap must feel the same way about you—he touches you just as gently as before, almost reverent, but his goddamned eyes practically shine when he looks at you, then groans out, “fuck, but you’re stunning, hen.”

He maneuvers you both towards the bed, and then he stretches out across it, and this is precisely why your sexual repertoire has always been lacking:  when a brutally handsome man is stretched out in front of you like a damned buffet, your mind singularly focuses on one thing, and you rarely remember that there’s other, more adventuresome things you could do.

You’re already turned on.  Ever since the two of you walked back from the range, you’ve been on a low simmer of lust, and the desire has ratcheted up with each kiss, with each little grumbling groan of Soap’s, with each sweep of his big warm hands along your body.

So you’re already turned on, so why sit on his face when his beautiful cock—perfectly sized for you, the ruddy tip already leaking precum—is also an option?

And Soap is no dummy.  He must guess at your internal battle because he says your name softly, pulls your gaze back to his face where he smiles that brilliant Soap-smile at you.

“Alright then?” he asks.  He pats his upper chest.  “You can sit right here, to start.”

It hits you all at once how intimate this is.  Fucking, hooking up—that’s one thing.  But sitting on your teammate’s face feels like you’re taking a further step into the unknown.  Oral sex, to you, is already more intimate than regular ol’ intercourse, but sitting on his face feels…even more intimate.  There’s a lot of trust on both ends:  he has to trust you not to hurt him, not to put too much weight or force on his face or neck.  And you have to trust him too, since you’re basically smothering him you with your pussy, and many men are precious little babies about eating pussy.

“I could just…”  You trail off and gesture vaguely at where his erection strains and bobs against his belly, and Soap snorts before he replies, “we could do both, hen.”

When you don’t say anything, when you don’t move, he adds, “c’mon, sweet girl.  I’m dyin’ for a taste of ye.”

The accent is unfair, you decide.  The accent is not fighting fair.  Soap’s Scottish brogue is charming in the best of times, but his bedroom version is thicker, at a slightly lower register, and it’s entirely unfair.  It easily dismantles the rest of your meager defenses, so you nod and then kneel on the bed.  But when you start to awkwardly clamor on top of him, he stills you for a beat and taps his mouth, says, “give me a kiss first.”

And the kiss is unfair too because it reminds you that it’s just Soap, one of your dearest teammates, a man who often holds your life in his hands and whose life you hold in your own.  His now-familiar taste of spicy warmth on your tongue, and his lips curving in a smile against yours when he whispers, “climb on up, hen  Don’t keep me waitin’ anymore.”

There’s no sexy way to climb on top of him.  Do you just kneel by his chest and throw a leg over him?  Do you straddle him lower and scoot up?  You split the difference, try to straddle him on his lower chest and scoot up, but then his one arm gets pinned.  Any other man?  It might be a deal-breaker being so clumsy, but Soap laughs underneath you—a genuine belly-laugh full of warmth that makes you giggle too.  He wrangles his arm free, then lays both hands on your hips and guides you the rest of the way.

This is unbearable intimate too, being so exposed to his bright blue-eyed gaze. You probably have tons of issues around previous men who didn’t eat pussy, who were grossed out by it, but Soap’s eyes practically glitter black with how blown his pupils are.  His face rarely hides its emotions very well (he’s a shitty poker player), and there’s no disgust in his expression at all.  There’s only desire, naked and apparent.

“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that sends that frisson of heat straight to your core.  “Tell me what is working for you, yeah?  Don’t go quiet on me.”

You nod, and you wish you could think of something cool or funny to say, but Soap lifts his head a little and presses a plush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, where both are splayed in front of him, and before you can even beat yourself up for failing to think of something cool or funny, his mouth is on you in earnest.

Soap, a damned good kisser.  It translates to this, his skilled tongue and lips licking at you, suckling at you, swirling against you before he breaks up the pattern with an outright kiss, then resumes his routine.  He traces the tip of his tongue around the firm bud of your clit, the perfect amount of pressure before he snakes it lower, lapping at the arousal leaking from your entrance.  He’s unabashed about it, groans against your feverish skin, and you love him in this moment—love that he wasn’t joking after all, love that he had led you here, where you sit perched on him while he feasts on your cunt and seems to genuinely enjoy it as he does. 

Any other position, you’d lean down and kiss him, or pull him to you and kiss him.  Now, as he groans against you again, you reach down and run your fingers through the longer stripe in his hair.  He must like that, because he groans a third time, and his grip on your hips spasms tighter.

You remember what he asked of you, so when he purses his lips and suckles against your clit, you gasp out a startled “oh!” but then add, “fuck, Johnny.  Just like t-that.”

“Good?”  It comes out muffled against you, and he pauses his mouth long enough to gaze up at you with a smile.

“So good.”  You shift your hand, cup his stubbled chin slick with your arousal—a gentle movement that makes his smile soften too. 

“Like when you call me Johnny, hen.”  Now he sounds a little shy, like he’s edging close to something beyond a random hookup with face-sitting.

“Keep using your mouth like that and I’ll call you Johnny all the time,” you tease.

“Deal.”  And then he’s on you again, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue, his bit of stubble raising a warm burn against your inner thighs.  His hands on your hips pull you closer, and he encourages the slow, careful rhythm when you start to actually ride his face—a languid back-and-forth, mindful of his need for oxygen, while he eats your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.

Your orgasm approaches faster than you thought; you thought you might have to fake it, since you rarely come from oral alone.  But there’s something about this position.  You feel powerful in a benign way, in charge, but mindful of the man underneath you.  You run your fingers through his hair and Soap preens at the touch, just as he preens when you pant out praise for him, tell him how good you feel. How good he is making you feel.

He must sense it because his grip tightens on your hips, but his tongue moves faster and focuses solely on your clit—teasing with the tip of his tongue, then laving it with the flat of his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

“F-fuck,” you choke out.  “Johnny…fuck…I’m gonna…” but you don’t finish the sentence, you keen out a garble of nonsense as you come.

The heat in your belly pools over, spills over in a brilliant wash that courses through your veins, into your trembling legs and up through your body, makes your vision shimmer and crackle with sparks.  Your heartbeat, your panting breath are loud in your own ears, and you hear Soap groan but he sounds faraway.  He teases your orgasm, prolongs it by licking against you until you grip his hair tighter and hold his head still while you clumsily dismount, then flop gracelessly onto the bed beside him.

You feel boneless.  You feel heavy, sleepy, like you could sink into the mattress and sleep for days.  You close your eyes and feel the bed shift, and Soap disappears for a moment.  You hear running water—he must be cleaning his face, you think—but then the mattress dips again and he’s curling his warm body around yours, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you to him, then settles the blanket over both of you.

“Good, yeah?”

You laugh.  “Yeah, that was good.  Especially for someone who’s never done it before.”  A beat.  “Give me a moment to catch my breath and then I can help you out.”

Soap chuckles above you, and you feel him press his lips to your forehead before settling again.  “No need.”

“But I—”

“Already came.”

The gears in your head turn slow when you’re sated from sex.  Coming makes you stupid.  “Huh?  When?”

Another chuckle, another kiss to your head.  “When I was eating you, hen.”

You turn your head and try to peer up at him.  He looks comfortable and sleepy too, content and sated.  “Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told ye I was dyin’ for a taste.”  He shifts a little, pulls you closer to him.  He tugs the blanket more securely around your shoulders.  “If ye want a second round, I’ll need a few minutes.”

You appraise the situation:  the warm scent of Soap, the feel of his naked body pressed to yours, the warm little cocoon he’s created here in his bed.  Of course you want a second round, but you’re sleepy too, and the thought of sleeping with Soap doesn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it might have seemed before he had his mouth on your pussy.

“Or we could sleep,” you offer.

“Sleep,” he agrees.  “Round two tomorrow.”

The doubts from earlier start to surface in your mind, but they seem tiny and inconsequential when you’re wrapped up in Soap’s arms.  You feel sleep tugging at you—he’s already asleep, you think, breathing deep and even against you—so you chance to brush your lips against the bit of him you can reach and whisper good night to him.

But he’s not quite completely asleep yet because he kisses you back, another press of his lips against your head, and he whispers back, “g’night, hen.”

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap imagine #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish imagine #soap x reader #call of duty modern warfare #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

[brainrotbrainrotbrainrot]

Shitpost

Soap in a relationship hc:

#john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #soap mctavish #soap imagine #johnny mactavish #soap headcanons #Johnny MacTavish headcanon #soap relationship headcanon #cod headcanons #cod x reader

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

COD/ T141 | Masterlist

Updated 30th April 2024

My blog is an 18+ space: minors DNI.

A reminder that I’m on AO3

Please check out my ko-fi if you fancy buying me a black coffee, no sugar, no milk. 😅

Captain John Price

Darling, Please | Husband!John Price x Wife!Reader | Angsty smut. Read the Warnings.

Napping with Captain John Price | Fluffy Drabble about napping with Price.

Grocery shopping with Price

Simon “Ghost” Riley

A Man of his Word | Ghost x F!Reader | CNC, roleplay, read the warnings. [AO3]

Boyfriend!Simon | Smutty x Reader Drabble pwp | [AO3]

Possessive!Simon blurb | smutty x GN!reader

“Just resting my eyes” | Napping with Simon x GN!reader

Grocery Shopping with Ghost | Fluff x GN!Reader

Possessive!Simon x reader | smut/pwp [Coming Soon]

Survivor guilt | GHOAP Angst I wrote while sad.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Sing My Praises | Praise Kink Smut with AFAB!Reader x Soap [AO3]

Boyfriend!Soap Drabble | Soap x F!Reader | Somnophilia smutty imagine. [AO3]

Just a taste | Soap x F!Reader | Somnophilia [AO3]

The Kilt Stays On | Soap x F!Reader | PWP [AO3]

Napping with Soap | fluffy soap x GN!reader

Grocery Shopping with Soap | Fluff x GN!Reader

Angsty Drabble

SoapGhost

Sex Pollen Ghoap x Reader | WIP snippet | [Coming Soon]

Soap x Ghost x Reader Throuple AU | [Coming soon]

A Beast, By Any Other Name | Multi-Chapter Ghost x Soap horror/Monster AU | [Chapter 1 Coming Soon]

Poly TF-141

Cuddle puddle/ Poly-141 Drabble Part One

Cuddle puddle/ Poly-141 Drabble Part Two

Cuddle puddle/ Poly-141 Drabble Part Three (Smut)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Napping with Gaz | Fluffy Gaz x GN!Reader

Grocery Shopping with Gaz | Fluffy Gaz x GN!Reader

König

Napping with König | Fluffy Drabble

Grocery Shopping with König | Fluffy Drabble

Smutty Drabble | Somno/sleepy sex

#soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mw2 #soap call of duty #soap x you #soap x y/n #soap imagine #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish #Johnny mctavish imagine #johnny mctavish x you #cod imagine #cod mwii #fanfic #boyfriend!soap #boyfriend!johnny mctavish #somno k!nk #soft somno #tw somno #tw somnophilia #CoD Masterlist #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #Ghost x you #ghost x reader

[alwaysshallow]

fake dating with Soap will include him going "let's practice kissing. you know, so it seems more real." and him kissing you like you're the love of his life, leaving you both dazed and minds fogged up. then he does it again because "that wasn't quite right. lemme try again." and cue to both of you falling off the couch and kissing on the floor *giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of this*

anon. i had to write something more for this

"'st for practice. It has to look real." he begs you.

You start to think you don't really get the terms of this deal. As Soap determined the meaning of this fake dating thingy, it had to be strictly casual. Every little hug now and then, holding hands, casual kiss on the cheek so his aunts wouldn't suspect him of lying right in front of them (ironic, isn't it?). It worked at the beggining – to be strict, two birthdays, his aunt's and grandma's – but now, he's in your apartment, saying something about this relationship being fake.

"It... is, fake." you say, absolutely bamboozled, which causes Soap to groan and shake his head.

He invades your private space, as he traps you between his arms, his palms on the cushions beside you. If it wasn't a fake thing, you'd probably start making out with him, but it is fake. You have to be professional to not cross a boundary that you set for yourself.

"Come on, hen" his voice drops an octave; you shiver at the feeling of his cold fingers touching the side of your neck. "We have to kiss, eventually. Happy kiss, happy couple."

You want to correct him, but when your gaze crosses with his, his absolute blue, puppy eyes convince you. It's nothing. You've done worse things for the missions, almost had to sleep with the enemy for an intel. It's not like you can't do kissing practice for a simple friend.

The moment he kisses you, you know it's not going to be a practice. It's far from it, he kisses you so deeply, so sensually, like he was a man starved – maybe he is, just like he's a fighter when his tongue absolutely dominates yours, and he lets out a satisfied groan.

You really want to end this. You do, in fact, end it, when you pull away from the kiss, panting, when he looks at you. This look is different than the last; full of lust, there's nothing of that crystal, royal blue that was here a while ago. His pupils are almost black, and you gulp, backing off a little. Trying because he's at you again.

"That... wasn't quite right. Lemme try again, eh?"

Johnny absolutely kills the last willpower you had, when he grabs your neck forcefully, causing you to gasp at the sensation. His lips are hot on yours, and you two land on the floor eventually because there's not enough of space for him – your hiss of pain causes him to laugh at it, and it's the meanest laugh you've ever heard from him.

"Aww, yer ass needs a little kiss too? To hurt less?" he whispers the question right against your lips, when your cheeks are heating up. His actions speaks louder than words, though; his hand is at your ass, and you don't try to correct him.

It's just the beggining.

another brainrot about them

#fucking hell are we really dragging him into this #call of duty #cod x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap fluff #john mactavish x reader #cod mw2 #soap mw2 #soap x reader #soap x you #johnny soap mactavish #imagine #john soap mactavish x female reader #soap cod #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mactavish #fake dating

[chaosandmarigolds]

(Sips tea) more mechanic! reader bc I have ten minutes between classes and WPM of 120

shifts? those do not exist here, you will happily sleep on the ground of the hangar if it means you get forty extra minutes, only to wake up to be slung over someones shoulder

"LT?"

"I tell you ten times, your room is thirteen yards away-"

"but my bed is clean and i'm dirtyyy-"

"Shut the hell up."

Missions? more like extends breaks for you

over the coms- (Price)"Where's tink?"

"'m takin a nap in the HUMVEE."

"We need you to -"

"Can you do it?"

"We could?"

"...are you ordering me?"

(long sigh) "You get your ass out here or I swear-"

"I'm coming! I'm sorry! I'm on the way."

That one time you got shot?

"Oh whoa...uh..Suds- Suds, my hip? My hip kinda hurt- Suds, I don't just want attention right now-Hey-"

Soap is staring at you with wide eyes, "Holy-o' my god-Cap-Cap tink got hit."

"Nuh-huh, I'm fine."

"THE FUCK YOU MEAN-"

Oh! And card games

"I bet I'm winning."

Kyle staring at you with his hand hidden, blinking a few times, "That's the point of poker-"

"I bet...I bet my whole shift this week."

"Switch places?"

"yuh-huh."

....

"You wouldn't last a day in my shoes, garrick."

"Fine. let's do it."

NEXT DAY

"Tink, why are you here?

You smile to the captain, "He lost. I cheated but still-"

(Annnnyway thats it for my lil rambling, feedback and comments make my day <333)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley fanfic #simon riley imagine #cod x you #cod fluff #john soap mactavish #johnny mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #john price x reader #john price #simon ghost riley x reader #coco's chaos <3

[milf-murdock]

Feels Like Home

Ghost x Soap x Reader // Established relationship

Summary: Your boys come home to you.

Warnings: none, just the fluffiest of fluff

“S’late,” Johnny murmured in the dark as he nudged off his boots beside the door. Simon offered up a small hum in agreement as he slid the locks into place, ensuring each and every one clicked firmly. “Try not to wake her this time, Johnny,” he warned as they made their way through the shared flat and towards the bedroom. “No promises,” Johnny whispered. “Just missed her so fucking much.” Simon rolled his eyes affectionately, but there was no denying that he felt the same way. The deep-seated ache they both felt when they were apart from you, it was damn near debilitating.

The bedroom door let out a quiet squeak as they carefully opened it, and Simon made a mental note to grease it in the morning.

The two men paused in the doorway, their breath momentarily taken away by the sight of your sleeping form. The soft glow of the lamp you’d accidentally left on washed your body in a warm hue. You were in one of Simon’s oversized sweatshirts, the well-worn material draping your frame as you cuddled close to Johnny’s pillow. The soft rise and fall of your chest let them know that you were still peacefully asleep, and for a brief panicked moment, Simon felt his chest constrict as he thought about how easily it would be for someone else, someone with more sinister intent, to sneak in here with you completely unaware. He pushed the thought out of his mind, reminding himself of all the security measures he and Johnny strategically put into place to assure your safety at all times.

The moment of quiet of short lived as Johnny all but bounded to the bed, unable to curb his enthusiasm for a moment longer. To be fair, he did try his hardest to be quiet and smooth, but he couldn’t stand the look of you curled around his pillow when you clearly needed to be resting against his own body. He lifted the covers back and slid into the warm sheets, carefully untangling you from the pillow and coaxing your head onto his chest, the soft patch of curls gracing his burly form have you instinctively curling inwards, burying your face in the soft warmth.

You let out a contented sigh and for the first time in nearly four weeks, Johnny feels like he can finally breathe, like he is finally whole once more. As he wrapped his strong arms around you, realization slowly pulls you from your slumber as you wiggle against his hard body, your body torn between falling back into sleep and knowing that something has changed.

Simon stepped closer to the bed, looking at you and Johnny with pure unadulterated affection. “Hey love,” his deep voice was soft in the darkness, not wanting to startle you. “We’re home.” A single finger traced the outline of your face, trailing from your temple to your chin, as your eyelashes fluttered open.

“You’re home?” Your voice cracked on the last word, the last dregs of sleep clearing from you as you took in the sight before you.

Johnny pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you even closer. “Aye lass,” he murmured against your skin, pressing kiss after kiss. “We’re home. Missed ya.”

As much as Simon enjoyed watching the sweet moment between you and Johnny, his own exhaustion was slowly overtaking him. He does his best to juggle taking care of you and Johnny, especially looking after Johnny when they’re on missions together—not just as his lieutenant, but as his partner.

Simon slid into the bed from the other side, his large frame coming up behind you and his arm hooking under Johnny’s neck, enabling him to pull you both close to him, your pliant body wedged between the two men. Simon took a deep breath, breathing in the subtle mix of your shampoo and a faint whiff of musk that was distinctly Johnny. Nothing compared to the feeling of being home with his loves, both of you safe in his arms.

The three of you drifted off to sleep just like that, limbs thoroughly entangled, steady breathing soothing every last one of you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #soap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #simon riley x john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish

[v1x3n]

♡ drunk 141 texts

141 x reader ┃ navigation ୨୧ tags : suggestive

୨୧ taglist: @xxshadowbabexx // @wonyoungloversblog // @ambitiousabi4288 // @royaltysuite // @tiredlittle-wallflower // @nic-stars // @snowyaddiction // @pinkslaystation // @hilmiponken

comment to join main taglist!

#call of duty #cod mw2 #character x reader #reader insert #cod #cod mwii #x reader #mw2 #cod x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #kyle garrick imagine #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle garrick cod #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mctavish x you #captain john price #john price #captain price #captain johnathan price #john price x reader

[killerpancakeburger]

Imagine: Ghost giving you the shovel talk after Soap and you made your relationship official

It's the evening, you two are smoking outside in companionable silence, taking in the star-spangled sky. Suddenly his voice pulls you out of your daydreaming.

"So... you n' Johnny, eh?”

You feel an ominous shiver run down your spine - you do not like the turn this conversation is taking. His tone is steady, like it usually is, but it means nothing when that specter is involved. He could be slicing a throat and his voice wouldn't waver a iota.

If there was anything you learned about The infamous Ghost, in the absence of his identity and the face beneath the mask, it was that the names he used for the people he considered his family were anything but random. Soap was the most common way he refered to his Sergeant, but a Johnny could slip here and there. "Johnny" was personal; intimate; vulnerable; and possessive all at once. Not in the way an insecure lover would act - although...? Maybe...? -, but in the way a pack member would bare his fangs at a newcomer to protect his mates.

There was something animalistic buried within him that would resurface from time to time, when the risk was too great, when the survival of the 141 or of any of its members was jeopardized. Something you would not risk to vex. Simon was extremely protective behind closed doors, it wasn’t a scoop, but you thought yourself safe from his fangs... or at least you did until now.

"Yeah?"

How you hate the interrogation in your voice. As if you were seeking his permission. Like a child knowing they're asking for too much but doing it anyway.

You busy yourself with your cigarette, trying to look unfazed.

"He may sound like a fuckin' playboy most of the times, but he's actually a sensible kinda fella. Doesn't go around givin' his heart to just anyone, y'know?"

You gulp. Take a deep breath. The only way out is through. Might as well be done with it.

"So, is this the part where you swear that no one will ever find my body if I hurt him?"

You're proud of how casual you managed to sound.

He actually chuckles at that. A relaxed, raspy, unbothered kind of sound. Maybe you will walk away with your life tonight after all.

"Got it all figured out, don't ya? But that's good. Saves us some time."

He tosses his cigarette and, for the first time since you’ve been outside, he turns to you and look you in the eye. His stare is as intense as ever.

"We're in agreement, then? Ya'll treat mah boy well?"

"Wouldn't dream of anything else."

"Good lass."

A pause, then:

"This works both way, y'know that, right?"

"Hmm?"

Too busy celebrating your escape from the valley of the shadow of death, you haven't been completely paying attention.

"If he gives ya trouble, I'll knock some sense into that thick head of his."

You look at him again, your face beaming and your chest tingling with a newfound joy.

"Thank you."

You smile, unable to stop the motion of your lips. Your gratefulness is not for the threat he proclaimed, but for the friendship he extends to you.

He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to.

Suddenly a burly arm wraps around your neck.

"What were ya guys talkin' about!? You’ve been there for ages." Pouts Soap.

Glancing over at Ghost, you can see that Johnny has tried to grab him by the neck too, with a lukewarm success, considering the height difference between the two of them.

"Nothin' ye need to concern yerself with", retorts Simon, lying as easily as he breathes.

As Johnny turns to you in hopes of finding an easier target that will confess everything, you nearly miss the conspiratorial wink Ghost sends your way. The action is so far removed from his usual character, you understand that the discrepancy is made to amuse you. So you giggle.

Tonight the sky is full of stars, and your heart full of bliss, the way you feel like your chest might burst with happiness at any moment, with those two men at your side.

A/N: Platonic!Reader x Ghost my beloved 😫 🖤 Tried to make Ghost the less OOC as possible, as usual >_< but man its not a walk in the fookin park.

Trouple potential tho? 👀 sorry not sorry, I can't help it, I love the ambiguity...

#mine #cod imagine #cod hcs #cod headcanons #ghost headcanons #soap x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty headcanons #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mctavish x reader #is this a fic. a hc. or an imagine #idk anything anymore #spent waaaay too much time on this. it was supposed to be 3 paragraphs long 💀 #cod fanfic #cod x reader #x reader #cod fic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #soap fanfic

[manticore-fangs]

part 2 of this.

cw: none really, just slight angst

“it- it’s me, johnny. i’m- i’m your wife.” you look at him and he looks at you, with a frown. “i’m sorry bonnie, i dunno ya’.” you start to whimper and cry, going down on your knees from your husband johnny not knowing who you were, he looked away as the four boys look at him then you. simon spoke up. “johnny.. you remember us.. but not your wife?” johnny all but shakes his head. “i’m sorry bonnie.. i really am. i just.. can’t remember.”

you look at him and waddle you way up to his bed. “please johnny. i love you a lot, please tell me this is a joke.” he shakes his head while you cry and whimper. you look at simon. he sat down next to you on the bed, you rest your head on his shoulder. crying before falling asleep from how tired you were.

•

the few days passed and you frequently visit johnny. though he may not remember you, you still make an effort to see him. this day, you both were alone as you put his favourite flowers near the window and he watched you intensely, watching how you move. you here sheets moving and wheels squeaking around the ground. you though it was nothing, just looking at the daisies and rubbing their petals.

then you felt a pair of arms around your waist. “i kno’ tha’ i cannae remember ye’. but i do kno’ that i still love ya’. your my wife after all and i married ye’ for a reason.” he spoke. his warmth engulfing your cold body from how freezing the hospital room was. “i know johnny.” you turn around in his hold and face him. you both hug for who knows how long, needing to feel that your johnny was safe and with you.

“i know.. you don’t know me but..” you stop talking and he looks at you, urging you to go on. “i want.. just one kiss. please..” you look down, tears welling up in your eyes. just waiting to get denied, but you feel his rough hands move your jaw up. he nods at you and you both move in for the kiss. it was a passionate kiss. tears falling down your face, leaving streaks of salty warm water across your cheeks.

you try to move away but johnny stops you from moving. he inches you closer and holds you tight, you put a hand to his chest and move back. breathing in fresh air as he looks at you, endearingly. “i think i remember you now.”

-

(short, sorry i have no motivation atm <\3)

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish imagine #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish