#johnny cod

[homosexualgirlandbags]

Simon Riley, who didn't believe in the afterlife until Johnny.

He's not a religious man by any means. He had never stepped foot in a church, and never understood why do people devote their life to religion anyways.

And then a summers afternoon, and Johnny's gone. Simon's His dog tags and cross hanging from his neck, stained with the aftermath of Johnny's sacrifice.

Simon has never understood the concept of an afterlife, never bothered to think much about it even.

But now that Johnny was gone, he could see how people stands in front of an altar for hours now, praying for peace in a god that might not even exist. He could feel the desperation trying to crawl out of his heart whenever he kneels in front of a cross, hoping, trying to believe in an afterlife where Johnny was better off in.

Because he doesn't think he could handle the truth that the man who had painted his life in colours he never knew exists now laid in the bottom of the Scottish Highlands in the form of ashes, his dog tags now just a scrap of metal laying next to Simon's heart, with nobody associated with the name Johnny Mactavish now.

[hidingwhere]

John Prices wife coming to pick him up at the airport after he returns from a mission, but the car is now full of military men.

One look at the three boys, completely exhausted and pulling their phones out to book a taxi had your heart crying. Without thinking, you offered them all a lift to yours and Johns home for them to stay overnight.

So now there’s three men cramped onto your three backseats, John having the luxury of sitting in the front. Simon is on the end (still in his balaclava but luckily not the skull mask because you’d be a little creeped out seeing that every time in the rear view mirror), Johnny in the middle and then Kyle on the other end. Johnny complains for about 10 minutes that he’s squished in and has no room to move but after that he’s completely zonked out on Simons shoulder.

Your music plays quietly through the speakers and they’re happy to listen to anything that isn’t gun shots or explosions.

Once you arrive home, they all climb out the car, grabbing their bags from the boot and dumping them down in the living room.

“Place looks less lifeless than last time I was here,” comments Johnny.

“Finally got a woman’s touch to it,” adds Kyle.

You smile a little at the non-direct compliment. Price also looks around, noticing the little details that have changed or the things that have been added around his house, keeping a hand on your back. He leans down and kisses you gently, mumbling “I missed you” against your lips.

“I missed you too. But it looks like you’ve lost weight.” You glance down at his body. “I’ll fatten you up again,” you tease with a little giggle as he chuckles.

It’s around 9pm by the time you’ve cooked dinner for four people who have appetites of bears. They all look at you as if you’re an angel sent from heaven when they see the food, sitting down at the dining table silently and scoffing down the meal.

By 10pm, you go into the living room thinking they’re all watching TV but instead they’re all asleep. You grab some spare blankets from beside the sofa and cover them up except for John. You shake him awake and make him move upstairs into bed with you. There’s no way you’re letting him sleep on the sofa and not with you after weeks apart.

[druap]

some recent sketches from twitter

[lyeofhell]

╰┈ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ MDNI, banner cred: @/cafekitsune

I just know Soap would be an amazing brat handler. His intelligence and penchant for chaos keep him attentive, and his charisma and humor make him incredibly quick-witted. All of it lends well to being able to anticipate his brat’s behavior and beat them at their own game, all while maintaining a playfulness and lightheartedness that still makes his brat feel safe and secure.

He holds you to your mistakes, following through with punishment when you need structure and stability to beat yourself against. But he also knows when to let things go, opting for comfort with open arms over correction when you need something a little softer to fall back on.

Biting, kissing, chasing, wrestling, tricking, outsmarting, laughing, playing - it’s just so natural. It comes so easy to him. And as someone who might struggle a bit with racing & jumbled thoughts, a bouncing leg and a need to be perfectly stimulated, the push and pull between him and his brat satisfies his needs so well. He’s kept on his toes in the best way possible and his brain loves you for it.

A dynamic like this allows him to love you wildly, chaotically, boundlessly; in more ways than one - from gentle to brutal and everywhere in between. Johnny wants no limit on the ways he can love you, and no matter how much you throw at him, or how much you restrict yourself to fight and snap and disobey - he can handle it. He wants to handle it.

christ, bonnie just let him handle it

[musouie]

cw ⊹ ࣪ ˖ dacryphilia, overstim | ib: @deargaz's drabble !

johnny gets so turned on when you cry.

he realises this while you’re both watching some shoddy film, something about a dog dying — he can’t remember, because the second he sees tears well up in your eyes, his cock is straining against his trousers.

it’s the way you sniffle, the way your eyes go all red and puffy...

and the more you sob, the harder he gets.

his hands start to wander, and it’s not long before they’re slipping between your thighs. you’re not quite paying attention, too caught up in the film, and you don’t notice that his fingers tease the soft skin below your fuzzy pyjama-shorts until his calloused thumb grazes your clothed clit.

“johnny,” you whisper, voice warbling, eyes snapping to his. “w-what’re you doing?”

“shh, don’t worry, bonnie,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “’m just tryna make ya’ feel better.” (the film continues, now background noise to his fib, to his want)

he slips his hand past your underwear, and his fingers are cold, but they quickly warm up as they slide through your folds. he rubs the pads of his digits against your sensitive bud, and your hips buck forward, a soft whimper tumbling from your lips.

the pleasure of it all causes your head to fall back against his shoulder, and he can see the wetness glistening on your cheeks, the way your eyelashes stick together.

“yer so fuckin’ pretty when ya’ cry,” he growls, his free hand reaching up to cup your jaw, tilting your face towards his to offer a better view. “so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

he presses his lips to yours, and the kiss is hot and messy and desperate, tongues sparring and teeth clinking as you both fight for a rise. he pulls away to lap at the seam of your lips, the warm muscle straying to your cheek...

you taste like salt, johnny notes, as he rolls the flat of his tongue over your wet skin, humming contentedly at the taste. he repeats the movement, drawing out a keening whine, and he feels himself growing harder and harder at the salty sting on his taste buds.

as he savours you, his fingers continue their ministrations, rubbing tight circles around your clit. it isn’t long before you’re trembling, your thighs clenching around his hand.

“that’s it, birdie,” he coos, his voice low and rough. “cum for me.”

and you do. with a choked sob, your body shuddering as your orgasm washes over you, you do.

but johnny isn’t finished.

he keeps going, his fingers working your clit, and the stimulation is too much, too intense, and you try to squirm away, but his other arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you in place.

tears of overstimulation leak from your eyes, stinging, blurring your vision. and there it is again; his tongue licking them away, lapping them off of your heated skin, moaning softly.

you sob as he works your little bundle of nerves, bringing you to climax two, three, four times, before you finally tap out. his digits are covered in your slick, and you watch with wide, bloodshot eyes as he slides his fingers into his mouth, humming contently at the flavour, cleaning them one by one.

and when he finishes, he takes a spit-soiled thumb and runs it across your cheeks, gathering the remnants of your tears before sucking his finger back into his mouth.

(can you blame him? he just wanted to hear his pretty bird cry... )

masterlist <3

[solrabi]

Werewolf!soap and human graduate student reader where her thesis is about how certain geographical locations affect werewolf behavior.

Your research grant can only pay you so much so you resort to living with one of the townspeople to save up for examination equipment. Not to mention getting all the way to a remote werewolf town in Scotland and receiving permission to study them took up a large sum.

Enter, Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish who’s temporarily retired from the military (he just hurt himself a little too much). He’s agitated and has nothing to do all day. Until he’s asked by the town’s mayor to let a certain human graduate student live with him while she does her on-site work.

Except he has never mated with anyone. He let alone does not know what it means to go through a true rut where all you want is your mate.

Now here you were, in the middle of bumble-fuck-nowhere, Scotland, a single suitcase in hand and a brick of a laptop weighing you down. You’re gross and sweaty after taking two flights, a train and a four hour bus ride to get to the town. Not a lot of the townspeople are too keen on you until Soap greets you with his signature boyish smile.

Only, he’s hit with your delicious scent. Intoxicating him. Mate, is all he can think.

Mate, is all he can think when he sees you sitting by the kitchen counter, typing away your experiments on your laptop. His cock growing hard at the sight of you looking so small in his t-shirt after your suitcase had been unexpectedly stolen. Werewolves are hostile to those outside their pack after all.

Mate, is all he can babble to himself when he sees you having dinner with his family in the next town over so you could study regional family dynamics. He was wondering what it would be like if he brought you under the pretense of announcing your engagement.

Mate, is all he can think when he breaths in the scent of your unwashed clothes after you’d been too muddled in work to do your laundry. He just wanted to be a nice host and do your laundry for you. Nothing perverse.

The mayor often pats his back and thanks him for being such a good person. Especially to a stranger outside the pack.

Yeah, good person, even when all he can think about is having you wrapped around him, his name spilling off your swollen lips, and scratches on his back.

Your final conclusions were definitely going to be a little skewed.

I’m not a Soap fan but I’m def going to write about this some day

[call-of-daydreams]

You: When did you fall in love with me? Johnny: The moment when you threatened to break my kneecaps baby.

[emmster]

I think I’ve decided to make the comic with Ghoap in mind

[juullllssss]

141 x Goddess!reader

First thought about this, inspired by the many animations from the musical epic.

The guys needed something to do after their retirement. More like Johnny got discharged after the mission which led him into the tunnel, and they followed, not wanting to leave him alone in the world. Not being able to be apart from each other for long. Slowly each of them requesting honorable discharge. Staying long enough so the space they left can be filled again.

They bought a Fischerboot, making some money on the side with what they caught. But more then that they enjoy the sea air and the labour which keeps them in shape, their thoughts occupied. One of the many days they were out on the sea, drifting aimlessly, taking a short break from the work of the morning.

Johnny is just leaning on the railing when he hears a bigger wave slam against the boot. Surprising, the sea being still most of the day.

Turning around he stills, looking around, blinking rapidly. Not sure if his fantasies have finally start bleeding into his waking hours. A small head popping out of the water. Clear eyes studying him. He inches closer to the railing, not wanting to spook whatever you are. He starts cooing at you, like at a frightened animal, beckoning you closer. But you stay were you are, head half under water when you disappear into the waves.

Johnny leaning over the railing as far as possible to see were you went. A big hand in his neck jolting him back. Simon looking quizzingly at him. A slight shake of his head when Johnny tells him what he saw. A mermaid? Here, in this bloody sea? Disbelieve from the others as well. Maybe he has lost his mind out here.

One thing is for sure, it wasn't a mermaid.

The next days small things keep happening. A sudden breeze, warm and strong enough to guide them in the right direction. Lasting long enough that they don't need to adjust the sails to much.

A enormes catch, more then they ever got. Fish so fat it makes them wonder where they came from, what they were eating. And Johnny is sure it has something to do with you. Could swear little eyes were watching them from a distance. Sometimes he lingers on the railing, at the side he first saw you. Keeping an eye out, scanning the water surface, hoping to see you again. His dreams being full of you and your eyes. Sinking into the water next to you.

[grossitsluca]

queen. i loved the johnny & parcel girl fic so much. may we know if she did end up giving him wee bairns 🥺

thank you queen! i was looking for a reason to keep writing for this one 😭

pt2 to this

The sound of the front door being shut felt like being tossed a buoy while drowning in the sea. You closed your eyes in relief as you stood up from the carpeted floor, back aching and knees cracking.

“Johnny! You back?” It had been a long day of you watching the kids while your husband was at work and you now wanted nothing more than to put your feet up and just relax. Your youngest girl wasn’t old enough to go to nursery, and the thought of separating her from her older sister seemed unfair. Besides, you were on maternity leave now, and there was something so rewarding about looking after them both as they played and grew.

“Johnny?” You yawned, as you bent over to pick up the youngest, the other one content to play with her light up toys on the floor. “Are you back yet?” There was no reply. Usually he comes in shouting about how he much he “missed his three lassies” but today, there was no noise. A slight shiver ran up your spine. What if that wasn’t your husband? The feeling of nausea crept its way into your stomach, your throat closing up as you slowed down your breathing.

You whispered to your other girl, to stand up, slowly and quietly, telling her not to make a sound, there’s a new game you’re playing about who can be quietest the most. Keeping your eyes on the door, you usher for her to go sit behind the sofa in the room. But then the door starts to open, ever so slightly, and you freeze. Your grip on your baby tightens and your hand on your toddler becomes firmer. The door continues to move, the creaking sound growing louder and louder, more and more light flooding into the room, until the door suddenly widens, a sharp sound of fear leaving your mouth. And you see him.

“John MacTavish, I hate you.” And the sound of his cackling fills the room. He spends the next minute or so, laughing at himself, doubling over and even holding onto the door frame for support in his laughing fit.

“Sorry, lass, am sorry, didnae mean to scare you so.” He says after he calms down, even though you can tell from the smirk on his face that he absolutely did mean to scare you like this. Here you were, tired and now scared shitless and he still thinks he’s funny. Well, two could play at that game. You leave him in the doorway, still feeling smug and just simply walk past him, into the kitchen.

Half an hour goes by and Johnny has started to realise that you’re serious, probably due to the fact that you plated everyone else’s dinner but his. It’s not like you didn’t let him eat, just that you let him do it himself for once. Another half an hour and Johnny has began to panic. He wouldn’t have pulled such a stupid joke if he knew you’d be giving him the silent treatment.

Two hours later and you’ve settled both the kids in for bed in their room, adjusting the baby monitor, just to be sure. You walk past Johnny, not sparing him a second glance as you head towards the bathroom. A twenty minute shower later and another ten minutes spent on your skincare, you decide it’s time to head back to your bedroom. You could have been back earlier, but you purposely dragged it out to teach Johnny a lesson.

You turn off the hallway lights before opening the door to yours and Johnny’s bedroom, only to be met with the sight of Johnny kneeling on the floor, blocking your way in.

“Excuse me.” You say pointedly, and try to shift that mountain of a man with your leg. Obviously, you failed. But that’s when he starts.

“Am so sorry lass, wasnae thinking, shouldn’t have done tha’ to you. Wasnae thinking about my beautiful wife who spends her day looking after our family. Won’t do it again, ah swear.” The worst part is he actually sounds sincere, because for you, the look on his face as he watches you walk by him without any acknowledgment was rather fun. He looked scared shitless when he understood the gravity of the situation, which you have to admit make you laugh inside. But if he actually means this apology, then you have no choice to forgive him. Shame.

“Johnny get up.” His face lights up once he hears you call his nickname, and he knows he’s in the clear now, which he celebrates by immediately pouncing on your lips, murmuring about he’s been thinking of kissing you all day. To be honest, so have you, but you don’t tell him that.

“You know, if you hadn’t apologised, you would have slept on the couch.” And that scared look on his face returns.

[rottingoranges]

And some johnny aswell

[homosexualgirlandbags]

Also, also. I think Simon is going to be possessive about Johnny.

I mean, after all, he did spend a majority of his life alone and constantly jumping around from home to home. It's hard to find someone who actually cares and is willing to stay. And so when the sunshine to his life, Johnny walks in, it's almost hard not to keep him all to himself. You're telling him, that he finds a man that's practically the sun? And the man likes him back too??? Nar, you're most definitely joking. Except we're not. And Simon does find Johnny in his bed every night when schedules aling.

And much like a dog resource guarding, he's keeping Johnny next to him, preferably tucked by his side under a blanket. He's only human, with weird chemicals in his brain making happy chemicals whenever he sees Johnny after all. So what if he actually ends up buying flowers for Johnny on their first date (unaware that chrysanthemums means death in the flower language), it's his problem to deal with.

(Johnny thought it was a promise of death from his lieutenant, ends up almost switching teams because the fuck is he going to do against the 6"4 -193cm- man?? Try to bite him?? Fuck him??)

Simon doesn't even realise he has grown accustomed to Johnny being next to him until Johnny ends up training a new batch of recruits on a different base. He quite literally rots around that month on base, calling Johnny whenever he can to get life updates. (And maybe collect wank material. There's something about his heavy Scottish accent coming out after training that Simon shamefully finds hot). He also damn near scares the recruits when he shows up on the last day of Johnny's absence, standing by the doorway as he waits for his husband boyfriend to finish early.

His veins damn near pops when a recruit kisses Johnny on the cheek as she is leaving. Simon might have left finger sized indents on Johnny's hips from the resulting kiss he gave him.

He really is no different from a dog from how he was hoarding Johnny at that moment.

Oh well, god didn't give him puppy eyes for no reason, he supposed.

[hidingwhere]

Task Force 141 when you fuss over them after coming back from a mission:

John Price-

Gently reassures you that you don’t need to do anything for him and having you in his arms again is the best possible thing to make him feel better. Even when you pull away and insist on making him a quick meal, he swiftly pulls you back into a hug again before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you upstairs. He refuses to let you leave and kisses you sweetly to convince you to stay.

Simon Riley-

Knows the minute you ask if he wants something to eat or drink that he’s going to marry you one day; sooner rather than later. Lets you fuss over him happily but pretends to hate it, muttering that he doesn’t need you to turn on the shower for him. However, he lets you do whatever, knowing it makes you happier and more relaxed when you take care of him.

Johnny Mactavish-

Literally refuses to let you leave his side. No, he doesn’t want a meal or a drink, he wants you. He’ll hold you so tight it feels like your bones are being crushed and only when you comment on the uncomfortableness of the embrace does he relax his grip. He doesn’t have a shower which earns him a number of complaints from you because he smells bad but he doesn’t care- says he’ll have one tomorrow morning which causes you to grumble.

Kyle Garrick-

Acts like a puppy and lets you do everything for him. Grins happily when you cook him a simple meal and set it down on the table for him. Thanks you profusely and gently runs his hand up and down your waist while you lead him upstairs. Watches you help remove his clothes and sighs against your shoulder in content when you rub his arms.

[druap]

xP

[hunter-hears-all]

im working on a kinda punk soap!!! be prepared for the final sketch to be posted soon

[solrabi]

Gaz has been your best friend since the day you had entered the world.

Both of you were siblings without blood ties, losing your first tooth together, fighting each other’s bullies, and looking out for each other when times got tough.

So you weren’t surprised when Gaz had asked you to be the godmother of his newborn son. You, of course, happily went through with his request. He also told you that he had appointed one of his military buddies to be the godfather.

You just never expected the godfather to be so…imposing.

The man immediately walks up to you, and clasps a hand around your waist, dragging you up to the altar at the church. “Name’s Johnny. Ye’ look beautiful in white,” he said as he winked at you.

And all while you’re intently listening to the priest, his eyes cannot help but see you in a different light. You were already wearing white, and the only thing you needed to do was hold a baby that belonged to both you and him.