#cod john soap mactavish

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

The first time you called Soap sweet boy he melted on the spot. He had needed you, coming home desperate for distraction and love, which lead to you straddling him on the sofa and making out with him.

Soap had his hands under your shirt, his fingers grabbing onto your waist, kneading the flesh for comfort. That simple touch from him already lead to goosebumps all over your body.

"You're so pretty, Johnny.", you whispered against his lips and you could feel the way his body froze. He pulled back loking at you with wide surprised eyes. His voice betrayed how unsure he was when he asked: "You mean that? You really think that of little ol' me?"

His attempt at humour to deflect didn't work on you. You knew him too well for that. So you cupped his face with your hands and started peppering soft loving kisses all over his face. Interrupting them to utter praise against his skin. Hoping it would find it's way underneath and settle to protect him from every unkind word that had ever been said to him.

"Pretty. Handsome. Kind. Brave. Selfless. Strong. Warm. Safe..." He had his eyes closed and surrendered himself to the soft hold your hands had on him. His hands still holding onto you to anchor himself.

You pecked the tip if his nose, pressed a lingering kiss to his lips and when your breath fanned over them with your next words he shuddered.

"You're my sweet, sweet boy."

His eyes opened, looking dazed, as if you'd done something way more raunchy than just shower him with kisses and praise. A small whimper left him and he nuzzled more into your hands. You could feel his entire body melt into the sofa under you.

His hands wandered up your back, and pushed you closer while he leant in so he could press his face into your chest. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him to you, gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"Need you, baby. Missed you so bad. You make everything okay again.", came his muffled voice.

Your hold on him tightened. "I'm right here, sweet boy. I've got you."

He leant back his eyes full of adoration as he looked up at you.

Your smile went from soft to mischievous as you said: "And now, sweet boy, take me to bed so I can have even more of you and ravage you the way you deserve."

He grinned back, leant in faster than you could see, and cheekily bit the skin over your collarbone. At the same time his fingers dug into your sides and you squeaked with laughter.

Abruptly he stood up, you still in his arms and strode towards your bedroom. "Aye, your highness. Show me just how sweet you think I am."

[igotbloodonmyhands]

Fluff and theft

Note: This is my first try at writing x reader, so I apologize if it is a bit cringe or weird, I‘m still learning. I also have never played the games, so I don’t have a perfect view on their personalities, but I‘ve tried to get it as accurate as possible. Word count: 619

Prompt: "Is that my shirt you're wearing?" Gender neutral reader; platonic, can be read as a bit more.

Ghost:

It wasn't your fault, really. You fell into the mud on the obstacle course, and well, that was your last clean shirt. Conveniently there was one of Ghosts giant shirts laying around in the laundry room. It was so comfy, but you could use it as a dress. Where it looked tight on him, it completely engulfed your body.

"Is that my shirt you're wearing?", a deep voice sounded behind you as walked in the common room. "No....", you mumbled. Ghost chuckled. "I give you a ten seconds head start", he said. Shit.

You ran. But it was no use, of course. Ghost was way faster than you. When he caught up to you, he quickly put you in a head lock. You couldn’t move, but you could feel he was still being gentle. „I need my shirts, (name), you know?“, he grumbled. You snickered. „Yea, and so do I“ You knew he was frowning, even if you couldn’t see it. „I‘ll get it back tomorrow. Washed. Otherwise, you’ll be doing at least ten laps around base“, he said.

„Yes sir“

Gaz:

His shirt just looked so inviting, it really wasn't your fault. When he forgets his shirt in the laundry room, oh well, he has to expect it to be stolen.

"Is that my shirt you're wearing?", an amused voice sounded from the kitchen when you walked in the common room. "Maybe", you said. Gaz chuckled and rolled his eyes. „Are you planning to steal my wardrobe?“, he asked. You looked at the shirt, which had a big „Garrick“ written on the front. „Noooo, you know I‘d never do that“. Gaz snorted. „Oh, I know you would, (name)“. You looked at him with played offence. He just shrugged. „We’re team mates, I know you a bit at this point“. You flipped him off and tugged at the shirt. „Just so you know, this is mine now“, you stated, walking out the common room. „Oh no no no, no it isn’t“, you could hear Gaz and started running. „Catch me if you can, pretty boy!“, you shouted.

Soap:

Mixed up laundry, it happens. It wasn’t your fault, now you had a big shirt in your basket, which clearly wasn’t yours. Not that that’d stop you.

"Is that my shirt you're wearing?", Soap chuckled when you walked into the common room. „Yup. It was in my laundry basket“, you said, opening the cup board. „Is that so?“, he grinned, looking you up and down. The shirt was way too big for you, not that you minded. It was comfy. „Not that you’re not looking good in it, but I kinda need that shirt“, he said. You shrugged. „You can have one of mine“. He laughed. „I highly doubt that’d work. You’re way smaller than me, shorty“. „Oh well“, you said, „then you’ll have to get a new one issued“. He rolled his eyes and got up from the couch, stepping behind you. „I‘ll get it back tomorrow“, he said. „Maybe“.

Price:

It wasn’t your fault Price left his shirt in the locker room. He should care more about his stuff.

You walked in the common room, Price sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen. He looked at you slightly confused. "Is that my shirt you're wearing?" „Yup. You left it in the locker room“. You looked down at the shirt. „Comfy. Mine now“, you stated. He chuckled. „I don’t think so, soldier. I need that back“. You gave him puppy eye „But it’s comfy“. He rolled his eyes. „I‘m not gonna get that shirt back, am I?“. You giggled. „One day“. He shook his head. „One day I won’t have anything to wear“. You smirked. „I won’t complain“

[thisfanisgonesorry]

Can you do a giggly drunk make out session with soap x fem reader and Ghost (being the observant guy he is) could tell his best friend was head I’ve rebels for the female sergeant and he catches the 2 out of the corner of his eyes making out, smiling into each others mouths?!?!

i hope this is okay!! im sorry it took me a little bit, got super AUGHH with it and lowkey not my proudest but <3

tags: fluff, love confessions sort of, making out mwahmwahmwah, depictions of drinking + smoking, simon is not an asshole for once, light use of scottish gaelic / scottish slang

☠️

Lieutenant Riley was across the room, his arms furrowed across his chest as he kept a close eye on things. His eyes squinted and focused on the duo and he sighed, shaking his head; “Idiots.”

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish, standing in all his glory, was hunched over the pool-table, a beer bottle creating ring stains in the plush green carpet. He pulled his arm back and click, the last little ball sunk into the netted hole.

“Fucker.” The other man cursed, and John accepted his humble victory, which meant chugging the rest of his beer and sending the loser to get him another while he set the table up for the next game.

During his victory, he glanced over, a grin plastering his face as he noticed my staring. “You see that?” He cheered, walking over and slumping next to me on the couch. His lackey handed him his fresh beer, and he clinked our drinks.

“Mostly saw the back of you.”

“Sure you enjoyed the view anyway, yeah?” He joked, taking my beer from my hands and giving me his fresh cold one in its place. He blinked, realising he needed to explain, but also wanting to change the topic away from his assets. “It’s gone warm.” He hummed, sipping the warm beer casually.

“I could’ve just got a new one.”

“Ain’t no point wasting beer, hen, don’t worry about it.”

“Hen?” I asked back with a short laugh, and he simply ignored it, instead his attention being dragged to the other Sergeants that were pulling him out of the couch and towards another table.

He returned back a lot more drinks later, being the ‘victor’ of beer pong. He lost, but he says that was intentional so he could drink more.

“It’s a self-proclaimed victory.” He claimed with a slurred laugh, rotating his wrist in circles, motioning blanky, moving his hands for the sake of moving them. “They think they won, builds morale, makes ‘em not sooky that I win everythin’, and I get to get drunk.” He winked.

“That’s what you call it?”

“Yeah, it’s like, uh, when you let your little bruther win a game, y’know? You let him win because it makes him ‘appy, not ‘cause he’s actually better than you, but you’re a good bruther for letting him win, right?”

“You’re an asshole.” I laughed while sipping my drink. 

A lot more drinks later, and he was staring from across the room, fiddling with the lighter in his hands. He noticed Simon staring at him, and he simply scoffed, shoving his metal lighter into his pocket and sauntering over.

“Hey, y’got a light?” He lied through his teeth despite his inebriated state. “‘M gonna go for a smoke.”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh- I’ll come with you.” I smiled, grabbing my drink and following behind him quickly as he made his exit to the fresh air outside. Hovering by the doorway, I handed him my lighter, and he placed the cigarette between his lips.

“Thanks.” He spoke quietly, trying to hide the slight slur to his voice, his eyes glued to the struggling lighter. His thumb brushed the gears, yet it would spark and sputter without a flame. 

I took the lighter from his hands, shaking it and flicking it briefly to life. “You gotta shake it.” I held the flame up, lighting his cigarette for him and he kept eye contact with his deep inhale. The cigarette barely lit before the flame died out, he got one good inhale, blowing the smoke to the side before the cigarette was burnt out.

“I think it’s about time y’get a new one.” He commented, a short grimace of dissatisfaction crossing his face before replacing it with a grateful smile, not wanting to look sour.

“Mhmhm, and what happened to your lighter?” I deflected the issue.

“Ah, Si’s got it.” He responded quickly. I leant against the wall and took a sip of my drink, and he slumped against it with me, a loud ‘thump’ as his body weight collided with the concrete. “You really should know better than to light me up.” He joked, putting the cigarette away in the pack for later.

“You’re the idiot who couldn’t do it himself.” I laughed, finding his slight frustration somewhat amusing.

“You’re the one with a dead lighter, why do I have to shake it?”

“Don’t bum yours out to people who don’t give it back.”

“He will.” He spoke, his composure faltered and he started laughing at the lighthearted argument. He looked at me and just giggled to himself. “Fuck, y’so..”

“So?” I tilted my head, stifling a few more drunken laughs.

“Pretty.” He admitted with a soft exhale between laughs. “God, you’re so pretty.” He said, leaning in closer towards me, his breath smelling of smoke and beer as it filled the short space between us, the cold air being replaced quickly.

“Yeah? You think?” I felt the heat of my cheeks rise, definitely not helped by the drunken haze. He hummed with a nod. “Well.. I think.. there’s nothing wrong with my lighter.”

“Oh my god.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, nothin’ wrong wit’ it for the 3 seconds I had to use it. Just get a new one.”

“If I need a light, I’ll use yours. How about that?”

“What if ’m not around?”

“You’re always around.”

“Y/n. You’re ruining the moment.”

“We’re having a moment?” I joked and he grabbed my face, pressing his lips into mine without any further hesitation.

He held his lips there. “That’s f’the light, smokin’ rules and all’a that.” He mumbled, pulling away for a second to glance over my face, before kissing me again.

“And that’s for?”

“Shut up, was meant t’kiss you when I called you pretty but y’ruined it.”

“So that’s for being pretty?”

“I said shut up.” He laughed against my lips, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me into him. I laughed with him, my legs feeling like jelly from the mixture of alcohol and butterflies. “Been trying to kiss you all night but just couldn’t figure out how to.” He admitted with a light laugh as his lips chased mine before he kissed me again.

He held my body up and close to him, turning our position so his large figure covered me from view, low chuckles leaving his throat and filling the tight space between us. “Didn’t even think you’d snog me back.” He teased, his hands practically glued to my face and waist, holding me as close to him as possible. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” I panted, the tone was light but it was still a heavy question.

“I mean, knew y’liked me but didn’t think it was this much.” He joked. “Thought you’d be distracted by my shite patter.”

“It was pretty shit.”

“Cheers.” He huffed in amusement, he leant in closer once again, making it clear he wanted to cut the banter, he kissed the corner of my mouth lightly. “Gonna kiss or gonna talk all through it?” He joked lightly before continuing his actions.

“Can’t do both?” I smiled, and it was met with a dramatic sigh.

“We can talk for the rest o’the night, hen, ain’t got all night for this.” He responded. “Someone’ll wonder where we’ve gone, but they’re probably glad I’m not kickin’ their arses.” He couldn’t stop laughing at his own words, evidently prideful over his accomplishment of being best at insert-any-party-game-here in the entire barracks. “Your lips are softer than I could’ve imagined, jus’, c’mon, hen, kiss me.” He pleaded.

“Johnny, you’re giggling too much.” It was admittedly infectious, the warm feeling spreading to my chest. “Someone could hear us.”

“Who cares? ’M sure no one’s listening, and it's not like we’re bein’ secretive.”

“We’re just ... Two friends havin’ a smoke.”

“Mhm, just friends.” His voice dipped, almost a whisper, his tone changed quickly. His demeanour stayed calm, and indifferent, though his words were almost sour. “Don’t know where anyone would get any other idea about us from.”

“Oh, c’mon, Johnny.” I dismissed, leaning closer to him. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” His body still covered mine like a shield, his strong arms holding me in place as his eyes flicked.

“So what did you mean?”

I shook my head, my lips ghosting over his. “Don’t overthink it.” I whispered, and his hand gently cupped my face.

“Hard not to.” He moved closer, closing the short distance, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip. My hands wrapped around his neck, tugging slightly on the mohawk and earning a short whimper.

He pulled away for a moment, licking his lips. “I could go for ‘nother drink.” I joked, and he gave a light scoff.

His ears perked up at the clicking sound of the door opening, though he simply kept looking into my eyes, biting back any comments he could have. His reaction seemed to just be to hunch himself over me fully.

“Subtle.” The Ghost commented dryly; “Real subtle.” He’d evidently only checked on us to prove something to himself, and his sarcastic attitude matched that he found exactly what he expected. The pinnacle of crude.

“What do you want, Lt?” He grinned, not pulling away from me. He tried to keep the movements going into sync, though the fogginess of the liquor and the laughter between us made it hard for him to keep his focus.

He hissed inwardly. “What’s-his-face wants a rematch.” He said matter-of-factly before continuing; “They want you inside but I can see you’re busy. I’ll, uh, let you continue this.” He thought his comment was funny, before turning quickly on his heel.

Johnny’s soft chuckles filled the air and he pulled away for a moment. “I lied about the lighter, by the way.”

“Course you did.”

[mutantthedark]

Headcanons inspired by @graveyard-party666 and @cloudofbutterflies92

Phew! That was a loooong shot. I know I wasn't tagged but I wanted to do this too.

In the future, Sigma will let her hair grow longer.

Soap proposes to Sigma when she was 28, then got married when she was 29.

Their marriage date is May 1st.

Soap let Sigma decide what filling cake she wants. She wanted coconut the most because she loves coconut.

Sigma's best friend, Michelle, helped her with the wedding dress. She choose shaped-like wings on her arms because Sigma was in the Air Force to remember her past.

Lala, Sigma's aunt, helped with the hair because she's a hairdresser 👀

Gaz, Soap and Price helped to decorate while Michelle made lots of crafts and even she prepared a bouquet for Sigma.

They didn't want to invite kids because they could make a mess and make a lot of noises while running around in places.

On honeymoon, everyone knows Soap is not a beach person. But he'll watch and listen to waves with Sigma.

Bonus!

According to Wikipedia, Soap received Gallandry medal, the Viktoria Cross and Conspicuous Gallandry Cross after an operation in Urzikstan, which his patrol was attacked by Al-Qatala. So he decided to wear them 😌

[random-thot-generator]

Dirty Little Secret + Pt. 2

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH x FEM READER

-

Summary: You've made a clean break and gone back to your roots.

Warnings/Tags: No major warnings, slight angsty thoughts/feelings, reader is coping, very light allusions to sex but nothing explicit, no use of Y/N

(Notes: No smut this chapter. Main focus is setting up the rest of the story and introducing Aunt Rue. I love Aunt Rue.

Short and inner-angsty, but with self-comfort? Anyway, she's dealing with it. Think of this chapter as the bridge between what happened before and what's going to happen next. And Kilroy is a fictional seaside village that I made up.)

Word Count: 1.3

-

The sound of the ocean had always been soothing to you. Given the chance, you would start every day this way, listening to the waves and the squawk of sea birds, the crunch of gravel beneath your feet.

As you picked your way along the pebbled shore, a bit of sea glass caught your eye and you stopped, toeing away the other rocks and detritus around it. It was a mottled Prussian blue, about a centimeter in diameter, the edges smooth with no chips or cracks. You held it up to the sun, huffing out a soft laugh at the effect. Bringing it back to your chest, you wiped away the grit that still clung to it with your thumb as you studied it. It was the right shade and size. You pocketed it and continued on your way.

You had become accustomed to taking these walks along the shore since moving back to Kilroy, a small village near Brighton. After things went tits up in Hereford, you had done what any heartbroken lass would do, you ran home. Home for you was your Aunt Rue's crumbling old cottage in Kilroy. It was where you spent your teenage years before going off to uni, working part time in her bakery while dreaming of a glamorous life in London.

That had been your goal back then, to live in the big city as a successful, independent career woman. That naive young woman would have been mortified to know that she would one day return to Kilroy, but you weren't that idealistic girl anymore.

Hereford was a far cry from London, yet you had barely scraped by on your own while living there; London would have eaten you alive. At least here, you knew people, felt a sense of community and familiarity. It had been so lonely living on your own, feeling isolated and forgotten. Perhaps that was why you had clung so desperately to Johnny, glad to receive what little attention he offered you, though what you received were mere scraps, really.

You sighed and shook your head, cutting off the thought before it had time to take root. It had been over six months, and you were finally in a decent headspace again. Getting over Johnny truly was like kicking an addiction; one misstep and you would be spiraling again. You sometimes wondered if you would ever be able to completely get him out of your system.

Even now, he still had an effect on your life, making you wary of the men who tried to chat you up. You just assumed they were out to get a leg over, so you often came off as cold and reserved, and in some cases, right down defensive. The thought of letting another man into your bed, letting another man touch you, use you, made you a little nauseous, to be honest. At this point, you would equate your love life with a frozen tundra— cold, bleak and depressing.

Meanwhile, Aunt Rue was still picking up blokes at the pub and bringing them home to spend the night. That had taken some getting used to. Before, when you were still a teenager, she had kept her love life lowkey, but since your return, she had no such qualms about it. It was nothing, now, to come downstairs in the morning and find some strange bloke sipping tea in one of her kimono robes at the kitchen table. Except for that one in nothing but his boxers. That had been a bridge too far.

Still, living and working with Aunt Rue had changed your perspective about a lot of things. Men and relationships, for one, living your best life, for another. You had come to realize that Aunt Rue was the role model you should have been fashioning yourself after this whole time.

She lived her life by her own rules, unapologetically and without regret. She didn't need a man around to take care of her, but she still enjoyed their company and sought it out without shame or guilt. She had carved out her own little niche in the world and was comfortable living in her own skin. Those were the goals you were striving for, now.

You checked the time on your phone, then made your way back towards the stairs leading up to the boardwalk. It was almost time to open the bakery, and Rue would be in full baking mode by now, and in need of your help.

The walk through the village was a pleasant one, the chill winds of spring giving way to the warmer climes of the approaching summer. There were still signs of the May Day celebration lingering about, artificial flower wreaths and arrangements kept on display in the shops.

That had been a fun day, you and your aunt setting up a booth on the boardwalk with the other businesses and vendors, selling summer-inspired treats as you watched the light-hearted chaos of the holiday unfold. There had even been a news crew from Brighton in attendance recording the festivities for a local television station.

As you neared the bakery, you couldn't help but smile at the lavender and white striped awning with the name of the shop printed across it: 'Rue the Day Bakery'. Taking out your keys, you let yourself in, tossing a hand up in greeting to one of the neighboring shop owners who was setting up a folding chalkboard sign outside their store.

"That you, love?" Rue called from the back, alerted by the bell above the door.

"Yeah. Just in from my walk," you called back, removing your jacket. You walked to the back to leave your jacket and bag in the office, then entered the kitchen, the smell of fresh baked bread the most prevalent today. You could always tell what day it was just by the smell of the bakery. Rue had just turned from an open oven, a tray of hot loaf pans clasped between her mitted hands. The rounded brown tops of bread gave off a mouthwatering aroma.

"Well, you're lookin' bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this mornin'," she greeted you, setting the tray on one of the metal tables against the wall. "Come help me turn these out, before ya get started on the front."

You grabbed a pair of spare oven mitts and set to work beside her, tipping out the loaves and placing them on a large cooling rack. "These turned out lovely, Aunt Rue. Save us a loaf for dinner. I'll make those open-faced sandwiches you like."

"Ooh! Ya got yourself a deal, love." She went back to her workstation and began to scrape the stuck dough off the surface with a pastry cutter, prepping it for the next round of baking. "Mind makin' me a cuppa? Think I'll take a break before starting on the rolls."

"Sure. Be right back." You went to the front, getting the hot water urns filled and switched on, glancing out the shop window to see Red, the postman, making his way down the shops, delivering the post. He was a regular, so you knew he would be in soon for his large to-go cuppa and buttered rolls with jam.

You stooped below the counter to grab your aunt's favorite oolong tea, but the box was empty. "Crap," you mumbled. "Should be another box back here somewhere…"

The bell above the door jingled, no doubt Red, you figured. "Be with ya in a tick," you called out, still rummaging about for the elusive oolong.

"Take yer time," was the reply, but it most definitely was not Red. This voice was deeper, a bit raspy and distinctly Scottish.

You shot to your feet, eyes wide, heart already breaking into a gallop as you gaped at the man standing before you. "What are you doing here?" you blurted out, shocked.

Johnny tilted his head, blue eyes flashing. "Hello, bonnie."

-

part 1 part 3

[amongthebooks]

Thinking about Ghost and Soap who both knew they’d end up together within moments of their first meeting. Who, despite the lieutenant’s history of being stand-offish and the sergeant’s general surface-level friendliness, immediately clicked. 

There was no worrying about ranks, or hesitation due to personal baggage. No. They were so sure of their feelings that they got together as soon as the mess with Hassan wrapped up. Their captain pointedly letting it slide when it became clear that it was more than a quick fling, when he saw how much of a positive impact they had on each other. 

Thinking about how their love for each other translated into becoming unstoppable on the field. The two were so in sync that even their other teammates thought they had help from the divine. Where one of them ended, the other began - they were extensions of each other, in such a way that even the roughest missions resulted in the two’s safe return, hand in hand.

Thinking about how the soldiers assigned underneath them always knew that they would be coming home in one piece. That the terrifying masked man would make calls for the benefit of them, first. Ensuring that no man would get left behind no matter how dire things seemed.

That the sergeant would always ensure morale was up, throwing around jokes and asking about their personal lives in a way that lifted their spirits. Making sure everyone knew that they were more than just another body to toss aside, always encouraging them to continue on so they could make it back to their loved ones.

Thinking about how many lives Ghost and Soap touched, how many years they spent spreading the legend of the 141’s success - all of it built on the back of the companionship that they found together.

Thinking about how easy of a decision retirement was to them. How, when one brought it up, the other was quick to agree without hesitation. They knew that they had dedicated years of their lives to serving, and that they should finally take some much needed time for themselves. Knowing the legacy they had left behind - a family of soldiers who were as efficient as they were kind. 

Thinking about their transition into civilian lives. How Ghost surprised Soap with a small cottage near the town the man grew up in - close enough for family visits, while being just far enough on the wooded outskirts to allow them the privacy they deserved. 

How Soap took up leading a team of youth’s football and finally had the time to work on his art. How Ghost retired into Simon, his masks becoming something he left behind as he grew more confident in letting the world see his scars. Working as a trainer for service animals, specifically for veterans - wanting to give back to the community that had graced him with his own dog. 

Thinking about Simon and Johnny finally tying the knot. The proposal happening on their yearly anniversary of their first mission together, the question asked as they laid together under the stars. Celebrating the fact that they could take the night to bask in each other’s presence - no reports, missions, or soldiers to otherwise preoccupy them.

Thinking about how the ceremony was small - Soap’s parents and two older sisters on one side, and Price, Gaz and Laswell on the other. Both having their families there to witness the most important day of their life. How both vows and first kisses were exchanged as the witnesses cheered for the happy couple. 

Thinking about their much larger reception. Where all of Soap’s extended family came to celebrate the occasion, delighted to finally meet the man who had stolen their John’s heart. How some soldiers crashed the party, the ones who kept in touch after they had served with the duo. Happy to raise their drinks in celebration of their success story - the two having managed long and prosperous careers and escaped to tell the tale. 

How Price made a toast to the newly Riley-MacTavishes, recounting multiple embarrassing stories about the both of them while they were under his command. Explaining that they were like the sons he never had, and that he was so proud of who they helped each other grow to be. Maybe even throwing in some jokes that claimed he was the reason that they had gotten together.

Thinking about Simon and Johnny finding somewhere quiet that night, taking a moment to reflect on how amazing it was that their life turned out like it did. Recounting that first mission they went on together, laughing at the thought of a younger Soap saving the seat for the superior he had only just met. Lavishing each other in soft kisses as reality sunk in. The quiet cottage, the dog, the family that loved them both - they had it all.

Thinking about how they promised to spend the rest of their days by the other’s side. 

Knowing that they wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. 

[robinthisbank]

TikTokers are such pussies when it comes to ships. “B-but they’re not canon 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😖😖” honey back in my day we shipped characters from entirely different medias uphill both ways in the snow

[yoshidatommy]

TF141 (oversimplified)

[bigguyenthusiast]

COD P★ LINKS

Yawll……dis is horny… so like fair warning

John price

Price tying you up after he catches you disobeying him by touching yourself :(

Overstimulation with John <3

Price eating you out after a loooooong mission

More price eating pussy (the guy LITERALLY looks like him or am I tripping)

Since you like using them so much, this shouldn’t be a punishment for you, correct ?

John getting you to ride his thigh

Theres a reason why they’re his favourite

Kyle Garrick

Gaz after ruthlessly fucking you for three hours ;3

What you get for flaunting yourself in front of his mates :(

Lazy night in with gaz

Shhh don’t want anyone to hear you

Late night humping with your clingy boyfriend

Roommate! Gaz getting tired of your horny whining

Simon Riley

Just a quick reminder of where you belong

Quick polishing’

A goodbye gift

A welcome home gift

Roommate! Ghost pounding you till you wake up :(

Owner! Ghost with his lil pup

Little film for later

Gettin’ crafty

John McTavish

Riding him until he’s dumb <3

Mornin sex with Johnny boy

Self restrain

Virgin! Johnny

Just his doll

Convincing your friend, Johnny to join your live 🫣

König

Hes just too big you needed a photo for confirmation

Need your colonel to reach you a lesson?

Just a quickie before he leaves for work

Quickie part 2

Good girls beg

[shkretart]

Just sketches

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Soap saying "Good doggy" with his stupid sexy raspy voice

[igotbloodonmyhands]

Alive / Part X

Trigger warning: Mentions and descriptions about sexual abuse and rape. Word count: 459

The rest of the breakfast was tasty, but awkward. Ghost felt like Molly knew. (She does). She kept glancing at him and Soap, who were sitting next to each other, a mischevious smirk on her face.

After finishing eating, they helped clean the dishes and went up to their bedroom to brush their teeth. Ghost was quiet, but he could feel Soaps eyes on him the entire time. He wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy what happened, not at all. It just felt so.... Weird. Unfamiliar. He's had his fair share of experiences, but it has been years. And in the mean time there were some.... Rather unpleasant events. He stood in front of the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. He could feel their hands on him, doing whatever they wanted to with his body, forcing him to go on his knees and please them. He wanted to puke, nausea overcoming him. "I had to , I had to, I had to survive", he repeated over and over in his mind, a tear rolling down his cheek. It had taken years before he could even touch himself again without having a panic attack. Since then no one had touched him in that way. He didn't want them to. Sometimes he missed the intimacy, but he was afraid to crave it, knowing he wouldn't be able to allow someone so close to him. But now there was Soap. Ghost damned himself for it, but he trusted the man. Fuck, he loved him. And for the first time in what seemend like a lifetime, he craved touch. His touch. His hands dug in his neck, knuckles white and leaving small, red shapes in his skin.

"You ok in there, lt?", Soaps voice sounded from outside the door. "Er, yea, 'm fine", Ghost hurried to answer, voice a bit choked up. Soap didn't say anything. Quickly wiping his wet eyes and putting on his stoic expression, he stepped out the bathroom. He was certain Soap could see that he had cried, but he luckily didn't say anything.

"So, you wanna go for a hike?", Soap asked lowly, inching closer to Ghost, putting his hands on his waist. Ghost suddenly felt claustrophobic. He loved his touch and hated it at the same time. He stumbled backwards. Soap looked confused at a bit hurt, no, more regretful.

Ghost cleared his throat. "Yea, why not. Lovely weather", he mumbled. He began to look for his cargo pants and a shirt. Soap was awfully quiet. Ghost wanted to slap himself for repulsing. He craved him so much it hurt. It scared him.

He turned around, wanting to say something. "I'm sorry, Johnny", he said.

But Soap was already gone.

Note: I did not plan for this to turn out this dark, but I wanted to bring in an explanation for Ghosts mixed feelings on intimacy, since his sexual abuse and rape are canon. I've personally never read the comics, so this is just my interpretation. I also want to mention that the reactions to sexual trauma are extremely subjective, how I described it here is just my personal experience.

[yooo-lets-go]

soap simp folder THIS, soap simp folder THAT, the question IS: does Ghost take photos??

He does

[elexaria]

when you start dating johnny, you also start dating simon. they’re best friends, which means simon is also your best friend.

he’s always over at your place, and you always sit inbetween then whenever you guys watch a movie. johnny’s hand on your thigh whilst simon’s arm chills around your shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing your arm.

so its no surprise when you end up getting furiously dicked down in bed by simon, his thick girthy cock stretching your poor cunt out while you choke on johnny’s fat dick, tears in your eyes as your muffled whimpers only spur them on more. “fuckin’ hell—“ si grunts out with each bellow and pump back inside of you, his thumb reaching down to tease your swollen clit. johnny’s fingers pinch at your nipples, chuckling as he grabs at your stupidly fat tits with a satisfied growl.

[spiltspit]

he was waiting for his goth bf to pick him up

[rowarn]

soap x reader x simon

soap doesn't know how to make you cum on his cock so he asks his trusted lieutenant to teach him how.

sub!reader, dom!simon, switch?soap, getting fucked by soap in simon's lap, wet&messy, cumming untouched, size difference/kink, threesome, fat dick!soap, MDNI

<3 just some horny nonsense that was spinning in my brain!!!

When Simon found out that sweet Johnny was struggling with something personal and even as embarrassing as making you cum, Simon’s mouth moved faster than his brain with an offer he never thought he would utter.

“I could help you out with that,” he had said, making Soap pause, mouth agape. Simon almost rescinded those words, brushing it off as a crude joke.

But then Soap spoke.

“Would you?” he asked, blue eyes glistening hopefully.

And Simon felt his cock twitch in his jeans.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t make you cum, Soap had defended on the drive over to your shared flat. Soap was good with his tongue and his fingers, could make you squirt by just rubbing that sweet little spot inside your gooey cunt.

The problem was whenever Johnny got his cock in you, he just could never get it right. The pace was wrong, the angle was off, he went too deep – anything that he could do wrong, he would do wrong.

“It’s never been like this with other…partners,” Soap shyly whispered. Though it was dark in the truck, Simon knew his friend was blushing in embarrassment, “I-I don’t know what I’m doin’ wrong this time.”

“Well, we’ll figure it out, Johnny,” Simon assured, shoving the door open the second Soap turned the engine off.

You and Soap lived on the top floor and the elevator ride up was stifling. Soap was fidgeting, clearly more than a little nervous about how this night was meant to go.

You and he had been together for a while – long enough to move in together. Simon wondered what finally made Soap reach out for help on this little problem after so long.

But Simon wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d wanted to get his fucking hands on you from the second you bounced into the room, radiant and so sweet in the way you shyly clung to Soap’s arm. You were precious and Simon’s not proud to admit he had gone home and tugged his cock fucking raw over the way you had batted your pretty lashes at him when you looked up at him – so much smaller than him.

He knew he would be a fucking wreck the second he had you within his grasp and fuck, he was right.

His hands were shaking as he held you in his lap, gripping your knees to keep you spread wide for Soap to slot his hips between them.

You were a sensitive little thing, Simon learned. You came so easily around Soaps fingers when he worked to stretch you open for him. If you came so easily then why the fuck couldn’t Johnny get you off from his cock?

You were trembling, wide eyes teary as you watched your boyfriend carefully work his cock into you. The stretch was always so good, always making your eyes roll back in your head. Your cunt was so slick and sticky, eagerly swallowing every inch of Soap. So fucking messy. It made Simon's mouth fill with saliva at the sight of how wet you were, he wanted to taste you so badly.

Johnnys cock was fat, thick and heavy, no doubt burning your poor little cunt with how wide he had you stretched around him. You creamed around him, juices dribbling down his balls and wetting his sweatpants. You even dripped all over Simon who held you in his lap.

When Johnny started thrusting, Simon immediately understood why you couldn't seem to cum. Sure, it felt good, and you were moaning - twitching and gasping every time Soap sunk in and brushed against any sweet little spot inside. But Soaps rhythm and pace were inconsistent and he didn't seem to have any idea how to aim his cock to really hit those gooey spots that would have you falling over the edge into bliss.

Simon took a few moments to admire the scene unfolding right in his lap. You, creaming all over a cock that couldn't make you cum. Soap desperately humping your pretty cunt haphazardly and sloppily. He wasn't even bothering to touch your clit. Beneath his mask, Simon grinned.

It was so cute how Johnny went so stupid the second he got his cock wrapped up in a tight, hot pussy.

“Johnny…” Simon finally spoke, “Slow down.”

Immediately, Soap did as he was told. His pace slowed, careful rolls of his hips replacing the jackhammering.

“There's a good boy,” Simon praised, eyes darkening at the sight of Soap’s ears turning red, “Go nice ‘nd deep You gotta hit all those nice spots inside.”

Soap’s pretty, blue eyes were half-lidded as he watched you writhe and twitch in his Lieutenant’s arms. With every deep stroke, both of them could hear the sticky, wet noises of your pussy swallowing every inch.

One of Simon’s hands trailed down your thigh, inching down and down. Soap’s eyes followed every movement until his fingers finally found your hard little clit. Immediately, your cunt clamped down around Soap’s cock and the Scot moaned.

“You gotta touch this cute little clit,” Simon teased, “If you really wanna know how it feels to have a pretty cunt cum around you.”

Soap nonsensically nodded, blunt nails digging into your hips as he held himself back from fucking you like a madman again. He kept Simon’s words in mind - deep and slow. Aim for those little spots. He knows where they are, he knows where it feels good. Just don't think with his cock - that's all he had to do.

With Simon’s callused fingers swirling over your sticky clit and Soap’s fat cock stuffing you full just right, it came as no surprise when you finally came.

Soap wasn't able to stand how good it felt with how tight you were squeezing around him, pulsing through every wave of your orgasm. You were gushing, creaming sticky and wet all over him. Simon could feel you clit twitching under the pads of his fingers.

With a shout, Soap filled you up with his load, “Fuck!”

As the two of you came down, Simon’s big hands carefully stroked up and down your thighs until their trembling ceased.

“You know, Lt,” Soap panted, looking up at him through his lashes, “I think I could use a little more hands on training. How about you really show me how it's done.”

Even though Simon had quietly came in his own pants, his cock was chubbing up again at those words.

“I like the sound of that, Seargent.”

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