#john mactavish cod

Price: reader who takes one of Price's cigars and shotguns the whole thing with him. He doesn't get to start talking about insubordination when you take a sip out of his whiskey glass and thank him for a good time. He spends the next 5 minutes eyeing the lipstick mark on the glass and downs the whole thing in one gulp. When he purs another drink he makes sure to put his lips on the mark as if tasting something else, the tips of his ears are a little red.

Gaz: you see him a little down the last few days, the last mission still weighting heavily on him so you invite him to a drink at one of the bars on karaoke night. You let him speak, being supportive and offering advice here and there. Over the hours his shoulders are relaxing and you get him laughing at terrible jokes. When it's time for a new song you get on stage singing mostly on key, getting a little lost in the verses while gently swaying your hips to the melody. Kyle watches you from the corner booth, smiling a little shepishly when you wink at him and takes a sip of his drink.

Soap: he mentions missing his grandmother's cooking, lamenting the the lack of desserts and the overall taste of food canteen. That's why on his next day off you invite him to your apartment, a feast spread on the table with his favourite dishes including his grandmother's famous dundee cake that she instructed you how to prepare it step by step on the phone. He takes a bite and there's tears in the corner of his eyes, when he leaves and you give him the packed leftovers he looks at you like he's gonna marry you, pointedly staring at your ring finger as if trying to guess the size.

Ghost: somehow you find out his birthday and gift him a bottle of his favourite bourbon. You spend the next hours drinking and talking his ear off, but getting out a few chuckles when you make a few morbid jokes. You get up from your seat and give him a kiss in the corner of his mouth wishing him a "Happy birthday, Simon" on your way out. He slowly touches his face looking at the door as it it holds all his answers.

CW: NSFW (MDNI) — Soap being versatile (and he equally loves to breed).

—

Soap’s a versatile kind of man.

One night he’s the one pinning you down, rutting into you like there is no end in sight.

The next night, though? He’s letting you pin him down and take what you need. He’s the one whining and pleading. Because sometimes he likes to be the one to let go.

Laid out on the bed as you sink down onto his cock, already whining like the pathetic man he is. Hands grabbing for your plush hips, trying to get you to move faster, sink down onto him completely.

When you swat his hands away, he’d whimper, look up at you with glossy blue eyes and beg.

“Please bonnie, I cannae handle it.”

“Need tae feel y’r cunt wrapped ‘round me, baby, please.”

“‘M losin’ it for ye bonnie, y’cannae see how badly I need ye?”

You finally sink down onto him and he’s moaning, head tipped back, hands clutching at your hips, at the sheets, at anything to try and keep himself afloat.

Your hips roll and he nearly busts right there.

He’d have to bite his lip, squeeze his eyes shut and focus so goddamn hard on not letting go because your pretty little pussy’s squeezing around him in ways he’s been dreaming of. Ways he’s needed.

You can always tell when he’s close. His brows knit together, his chest flushes all the way down past his nipples and he’s still fucking whining. Hands shaking, hips stuttering against yours.

Soap might be versatile, but he’s absolutely the type to beg to let him breed you. All flushed and whiny, looking up at you so pleadingly it makes your wet walls clench tight around him.

“Please baby, please- I-I need tae cum-“

“Can I cum inside ye please bonnie? Please ‘m dyin’ here.”

“Wanna fill y’r pretty pussy please-“

Broken off pleas until you give him the go ahead. And he’s moaning through it, head tipped back, jaw slack, thighs shaking. A proper mess of himself as he fills your squeezing cunt.

he’s rutting against your slick cunt, listening to your own whines and ‘please’ before johnny slips practically fucks you sideways. resting your leg on his shoulder and pressing his thumb against your clit.

“so tight, so pretty for me bon..”

johnny whispers, his eyes shut as he fucks up into your pretty pussy. you’re whimpering, feeling the warmth of his dick against your walls.

“jooohnny, baby, so good..” your voice trails off, hands in the sheets, and your eyes on johnny.

god, he looks so fucking good above you.

before you feel johnny’s hips stutter. you groan, feeling the warmth of his cum fill you up wonderfully. you’re both breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath.

“morning, bonnie.” johnny says, a huge grin on his face before he presses a sweet kiss to your temple.

“gmornin’ love.” you smile, whimpering at the feel of him pulling out. johnny lays on his side, pressing kisses up against your shoulder as you sigh. johnny eases up, smiling and draping an arm around your waist.

Johnny (crying): "Si! Look! She rolled over!

Simon: “Would ya look at that, I can’t believe how big she’s gettin’.”

Johnny (sobbing): “How’s she so big already?!”

Simon, seeing how much Johnny is losing it: “Ya alright, luv?”

🚨CW:🚨 Light smut (it’s mentioned but not in great detail), miscommunication, a reference to struggling with conception, just Johnny trying his best to take care of the wife and in turn failing miserably to educate himself about the basics.

Everytime you come onto him he awkwardly shuffles away, distracting himself with work, which he usually avoids like the plague while at home with you. Fumbling with his clothes each time you dress in something even remotely revealing, making up excuses like “I gotta shower.” Or “I’m too tired right now Doll.”

With each time he rejects you feel as though your worst fear is coming true. You doom-scroll through threads on the internet, Women whose husbands find their pregnant wife’s body a turn off and refuse to touch them and you feel like your about to one because never in your thirteen years with Johnny did you ever think he would be that type of man. Sure, John had a few things about him that may seem unappealing to other women but he was a raging green flag in the department of love and desire, he’d always had the perfect balance of both.

Johnny knew how to make you feel all sorts of things. Cute, pretty, beautiful and sexy. The way he complimented you, always detailed and making you view yourself in a specific light he turned on for the rest of the day. The extravagant compliments didn’t seem to disappear and nor did his physical touch. He gave you everything, hugs, kisses and back rubs but was as dry as the desert when It came to sex since the moment you’d showed him that pregnancy test with the two pink lines. It felt as though his words weren’t being backed up by his actions like they usually would. Johnny would die before not showing you how much he desired you through actions usually when calling you cute, he’d immediately cement those adoring words with two fingers in your cunt, prodding at all the soft spots that made you buck mindlessly, cooing at the way your body looked writhing in his palms.

Meanwhile, Johnny’s been terrified when you come onto him. Anxiety building each time you’re wearing those silky nightdresses of yours that hugs that swell pregnant belly in a sinfully delicious way, making his eyes morph into heart shaped emojis like a damn cartoon and of course his cock chubbed against his jeans, painful and just as desperate for his wife as the last time. Only for Johnny to run into the bathroom to rub one out instead of pouncing on you like a damn jaguar like he so often did.

Eventually you can’t take it, breaking down sand questioning his love for you, demanding a reason why he doesn’t want you anymore and oblivious Johnny just stands there dumbfounded as if you’d dropped a ton of bricks on his head, his own heart visibly breaking at your emotions that didn’t alive with his thought process or the way he viewed his perfect little wife. Oh and the embarrassment you felt, knowing damn well hormones were playing a part in your whines and sobs was humiliating.

Johnny, being the stupid idiot he was panics falling to find the right words. As he searched his pockets, incapable of keeping stop whenever he was in a high tense or uncountable situation, especially when it came to arguments with you. “No, no, no- That’s not. Fuck. We can’t have sex, Doll. It’ll hurt the baby.”

And when he says that you pause looking up with tears still leaking from your eyes like a broken faucet and a face of pure and utter confusion because what the hell was he talking about? You wipe your eyes as you come to the realisation your husband may have been lead to believe something completely wrong. Of course John had, that was so him.

“For fuck sake Johnny. Are you telling me you haven’t had sex with me for seven months because you thought it’d hurt the baby?” You can’t help but be slightly frustrated. More at yourself than him because Of course your wife-obsessed husband would never not find you attractive, The man called you a ‘Hot piece of ass’ when you were still high as a kite after your wisdom teeth were removed all while disgustingly drooling in the front seat of his car he adored more than his hair.

“Wha- well yeah? Isn’t that… am I wrong?” Johnny sputtered over his words because now he’s just as confused as he was two minutes ago, running his hands through his short Mohawk, eyes darting around the room as if he’d missed something all while you just stared at him for about a good solid five minutes before bursting into laughter shaking your head. Poor man had gone cold turkey for both his babies. It was sweet when you really thought about it.

“No Johnny. I don’t have any complications with the pregnancy so the OBGYN said I could have sex.” You pull him into a tight embrace because God if you didn’t hug him right now you might just start to bawl your eyes out again. This sweet, sweet, stupid man has treated you like the damn Virgin Mary thinking it was protecting both you and the baby like some honourable priest castrating themselves in loyalty to their god and now he stood there brows furrowed so deep he looked like he had the face of a slapped ass before turning to you, baby blues looking at you ever so puzzled at the fact he was wrong and held out for seven months with no sex.

“Seriously?” He squinted at you almost accusatory because he swore he had heard the doctor say something different. Or maybe it was because of the high stress situation. He’d never gotten the love of his life pregnant and the first appointment was horrifying, the fear of them turning around and telling him ‘false positive’ had made his ears ring the whole time. The image of going through another three years of trying with no luck may have blurred out any background noise.

“Seriously.”

Suggestive fluff

Johnny came home last night after months away on deployment. It’s the biggest gap you’ve had from each other since you’ve been together. Which also means it’s the most grown out Johnny’s hair has been since you’ve been around.

Which brings you to the present. Johnny sits on a stool shirtless in the bathroom, looking up at you expectantly with a sneaky grin.

“Johnny, I really think I’m gonna fuck it up.” You mumble, attaching the razor to the electric shaver.

“Don’t be so humble, love.” He brushes you off in response. “It’s easy to do.”

“Then you do it!” You retort, giving him an annoyed look.

“Aye, I want you to do it though.”

You sigh. Fine. It’ll be fine. He’s not gonna break up with you if you accidentally shave him bald. Probably, anyway.

Your cold sockless feet moved towards him with the razor. You flick it on.

“Just go along the pattern that’s already there, love.” Johnny reminds you, a teensy bit gentler than his usual playful tone.

So you do. You trace along the more grown-out strip of hair in the middle of his skull. Then the other side. You step back and giggle. Currently, he has two stripes of almost bald head, still having yet to shave the sides.

Johnny smirks at your giggle. “Alrigh’ no need to take the piss out of it.“

“Sorry, Johnny.” You stifle your giggles in order to finish the job. You carefully round his ears and clean up his sideburns. It doesn’t take long at all to finish.

You flick off the razor and take his chin in between your fingers, cooing. “Oh, so handsome now~”

Johnny, meanwhile, looks up at you with big round eyes as you coo, chubbing up at your praise without meaning to. His smirk is more of a melty smile. “I told you that you could do it.” He murmurs, leaning into your hand.

You sigh at his audacity to say ‘I told you so’ when he was just being so cute. “You ruin everything.” You huff, taking away your hand. But he laughs, standing up are wrapping his arms around you in a bear hug.

“Why’re you hard?!” You whine, squirming with fake displeasure on your face.

“Aye, you called me handsome. All it takes, love.”

You scoff. He kisses your lips in response.

John would definitely be a lumberjack, no question in that. He loves the forest and the woods, as if he always belonged there. Flannel shirts suit him like second skin, just like the axe swings as easily as breathing. The best part is when he gets all sweaty and breathy after hours of work and comes home to you.

Soap would be some kind of trainer. Keeping himself fit and helping others in the same time is a great deal. Always says that the figure is the first thing to get noticed and everyone is perfect the way they are. Runs with him are amazing. Would be the kind of a personal trainer that leaves you half passed out by the end of the session.

Gaz would be a cook or a chef at a restaurant. He likes the calm. When he met you, the table was almost never empty, and when he’s at work, he makes sure everything is as clean as it can get. Just him behind a table with an apron on, delicately deboning a big fish while the other cooks and assistants fly around him preparing other meals.

Ghost would be a butcher. Similar to Gaz but also pretty opposite. Him behind the counter with a bloody apron, dismembering a pig while his chest heaves. Thick forearms flexing every time the butcher knife slams down to cut through the bone of the animal. He can be delicate too but you can’t delicately break bones. All while you stand by the register with raised eyebrows, observing while he prepares what you asked for.