#johnny mactavish x you

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one. Soap's heard that saying once or twice.

and here you are. claiming to be his... issuance.

you tilt your head. "you don't remember signing up for the program?"

no. no, he doesn't. his eyes dart down to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. he'd remember that. more to the point, he'd remember whatever he did to deserve this. he looks you up and down again, disbelief and desire flashing across his face, and not in equal measure.

you’re like if someone wrung the starry slurry of thoughts constituting what makes a perfect woman directly from his brain matter, let it ferment and clarify like honey wine, put marriage papers in her hand, and dressed her in a… in a fucking… are those stockings stretching up under your skirt?

hell’s bells. you’re one part girl next door, one part muse—the one his hand can never quite shape on the page to match what’s in his head—and several shades of his favorite porn star. an old-fashioned pin-up doll in the flesh.

"you're not John MacTavish, then," you say, peering down at the papers in your hand with a small frown. "so sorry to bother you—"

“no, hold on.” he takes a step closer. “i’m him, aye. but the program...” the application questionnaire. filling it out was nothing more than a drunken bet with Gaz, but yes, he dimly remembers it. doesn't recall turning it in, but maybe he was drunker than he thought. “it's real?"

“completely real. i was selected for you based on the preferences you specified,” you tell him. you shift the clipboard into your other arm, pleasant smile turning into a frown. "but i couldn't possibly ask you to sign a marriage certificate sponsored by a program you don't even remember applying for."

oh, that is rich. you don’t seem to see the humor here. it’s absurd. have you not seen yourself? he'd be daft to pass on someone as bonnie as you.

not to mention you seem more than a little disappointed at the idea of being turned down. that fuels his ego even more.

 "you're sayin' you're a part of that military partnership program, aye? and you were handpicked as my spouse based on a few questions?"

you helpfully produce a copy of his responses in pink triplicate. sure enough, he recognizes his own drunken scrawl.

none of the questions have anything to do his preferences looks-wise. career aspirations, communication preferences, hobbies, his ideal saturday night. his sleeping habits. this is a psychological profile. CIA shite, as Gaz would say.

he doubts his drunken self read more than a few lines of this paperwork while he was constructing his dream girl in the survey blanks.

as he studies the page a little too closely, your small frown turns into a frustrated scowl. "john? um, i mean."

it instantly pulls his eyes back to your lips.

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger. "it’s nice to meet you,” you say in a tone that makes it clear what you’re really saying is ‘hey, stud, i'm looking forward to the honeymoon.’

that’s your attempt, at least. but Soap sees more than you mean to show. the way you play that card--the way you twirl your damn hair--is the clumsiest, most blatant attempt to flirt. somehow, that's what catches him off-guard the most. It makes his heart squeeze. god, are you nervous? you?

he runs over the back of his teeth in the split second before his signature lazy smirk slides back across his face. "happy you got paired up with a bloke like me?"

he hands the paperwork back to you. you take it back with great relief and nestle it securely into the crook of your elbow. you’re certain he didn’t sign every single blank he was supposed to, but he won’t remember that. you’ll check the signature lines later and forge his handwriting to finish it.

you smile prettily at him. then you make it a little more coy. you should be bashful--he's handsome. "i'm lucky. you're special forces. i’m a nobody, really. if you want, you could try filing for a spouse upgrade. if you want a really good fiancée..."

“fiancée." Soap rolls the word around his tongue. "is that what i should call you?”

"well. you saw my name on the paperwork," you point out. you know very well he didn't.

before he can ask any more questions, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek and pull away, walking down the hall with documents in tow. his gaze is heavy on your back.

the documents in your arm are real enough. Soap really did complete that questionnaire, just like how he remembers. getting the application turned in is what required a little creative effort.

but as long as nobody looks too closely at the military ID photocopied in the application file, they won't notice that the mostly-obscured face of the soldier who turned the application in doesn't look much like Soap at all.

...

more Soap / masterlist

[caffieneaddictt18]

little idea: poly!141 caring for a chubby reader who doesnt understand what its like to have someone care for them

like, Price makes sure that you eat, especially on the days where your body dysmorphia hits harder than normal. You always look confused while pulling out your own lunch, saying you brought it with you. Its a salad with no nutritional value other than barely any calories. John takes it and gives you the lunch that he got for you: a filling lunch with plenty of calories, carbs, and protein to keep you going for the day. Just listen to him. Trust me.

Simon who likes to workout with you: doing push-ups with you on his back, hip thrusts (😉) as you sit on his lap, etc. “Luv, I do my cardio at home” as he winks at you from behind the mask type shi

Gaz who loves to go shopping with you and will actually pay attention to the clothes you try on, complimenting you and even picking stuff out that he likes and wants to see on you. You blush from not having the same attention from exes and tell him that he doesnt have to be here while you try your stuff on. That you can find him if he wants to go look at stuff. He VEHEMENTLY denies leaving. “Why would I leave when I have a pretty darling to look at?”

Johnny who cannot get enough of your soft skin. His hands are always on you, always on the plush parts of your body. If you have hip dips, his hands like to rest there. He claims thats theres no better place for his hands to rest when he’s not groping at your tummy, thighs, rolls, tits- You blush every time his hands rest on the plusher parts of your hips or on your tummy, pushing his hands off just for him to put them back on. “Johnny, you dont need to touch that.”

“‘N why no’?”

“I know it can be-“

“Bonnie, Im keepin my ‘ands on ya until yer understand that I don’ want em off ya.”

Just a poly!141 taking care of you by also doing simple things around that house like chores when its your chore day, dishes when you cook, etc. JUST POLY!141 TAKING CARE OF YOUR STUPIDLY INDEPENDENT AND SLIGHTLY INSECURE SELF

[reveluving]

Ok, so Soap and shy wife. We all know he's the definition of sunshine/happy puppy and has the energy of an entire class of kindengarden. Imagine when they first meet the couple and he's all loud and jolly, and wife quietly shakes their hand and says "Nice to meet you" and he INSTANTLY quiets, because he's proud of his Darling to meet his friends/family, also because they're all wondering how she puts up with him🤣❤

LOSING MY MIND AT "they're all wondering how she puts up with him" BECAUSE THAT IS BASICALLY THEIR DYNAMIC 🤧💗💗

Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

You just know this man does not shut up about you every time he meets up with his team for work. 

And then, one day, he surprises them with a “she’d love y’all to come over one day.”

“Didn’t you say she’s a lil’ shy?” Kyle voiced out everyone’s thoughts, so to be offered not by the man himself but the meek lady in question was a little surprising, to say the least.

“She is, yeah, but she’s open t’meeting a few pals o’mine.” Johnny meant it to sound casual, but with his mates knowing him for a long time, it wasn’t hard to catch the hint of care in his voice.

And, well, it would be rude to decline a lady’s generous offer, now, would it?

Johnny’s hyped, no doubt, his friends—no, brothers, and his other half finally meeting in person. They didn’t even have to ask, just by the way he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel or the way he hummed to the radio, likely a playlist the two of you shared.

And with the boys holding some sort of gift for you, just as a thank you for the invite, you greet them by the door as soon as your husband announces his and his friends’ arrival. 

With Simon physically being the closest to you, you wiped your hands on your apron before holding your hand out. Simon nearly struggled with his strength, not expecting your lack of hesitation to greet him, out of all of them.

You introduced yourself, “It’s nice to finally meet you guys.”

Ah, such a sweet voice. So sweet that had Johnny not gone on and on about your shyness, they would’ve thought you were scared of them. But, you weren’t and the proud smile on Johnny’s face says it all. 

Why wouldn’t he? With your warm smile and even willingness to shake Kyle and John’s hands as well. Albeit, you had a habit of looking down every once in a while, especially if they tried to show their respect, i.e. complimenting your cooking, the decor or you in general, it was hard not to find you endearing.

But God knows how you, of all people, manage to put up with his nonsense. 

In the words of Johnny; “Opposites attract, after all.”

And seeing it now, to say Johnny was whipped…. Was putting it lightly.

It’s funny to see Johnny trying his best when it comes to lowering his gruff voice for you, even if you loved it just the way it is.

Though he has a lot of things to tell you, so much love to give you, you have his full attention the moment your lips part.

Each time you open your mouth, he closes his. As if fearing that one word from him would mean talking over you entirely, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. The hearts in his eyes were tough to miss. He’s expressive, too, hanging on your every word like you were giving him a task when it was just you talking about how you learnt to make the lasagna you served for dinner.

‘SHUT UP, MY BABY HAS SOMETHING TO SAY’ type of beat, but it’s the man who’s saying it that has the loudest voice (and the gentlest heart).

But they’d be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy listening to the stories of how you met and how emo Johnny gets when the dates or outings don’t go his way, even though it all went well in the end.

Why wouldn’t they enjoy seeing his soul leave his body when you mentioned his baby pictures that his mother not only showed you but gave some to you as well?

“Johnny, c’mon, now, she’s a part of the family! She’ll need some photos o’you for when you move in together soon.” Says his mother, gifting you probably a stack of them, as if unfazed by the sight of you and Johnny covering your faces, the temperature of your body heat rising that even you feared you might pass out right then and there. He couldn’t even find the energy to stop his sisters from teasing him.

But besides allowing you to embarrass him a little, even if it wasn’t your intention, your home is another.

A small unit, located on the second floor. The candlelight colour, the cute indoor plants in each room, and the seats. 

Oh, the seats.

John nearly passed out just moments after he sat on it. 

Just by the way you maximized the apartment space, it’s no wonder Johnny always looked forward to returning home. Not necessarily the apartment, but to you. 

Dare they say, the visit felt like a ‘cultural reset’ (is that what the kids are saying these days?). Largely because one; they were able to finally confirm that Mrs MacTavish is a real person and two; one cannot simply ignore the dynamic you and Johnny have. It may be eye-roll-worthy to some, but Johnny learns it isn’t something worth fighting about. So long he has you, those people can yap and nag about it all they want. 

Bonus: John’s definitely the type of person to tell Laswell about it like it was some kind of a mission—like it was almost unbelievable to see you, well, you!

“M’tellin’ ya, Laswell. As soon as his wife had something t’say, he shuts up faster than when I tell him to.” He chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.

“Sounds like a keeper to me.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[inkbybambi]

soap has a piss kink, but not in the way you would think.

he doesn’t want you to piss on him, though he certainly wouldn’t deny the opportunity. more so that he likes watching you pee. he’ll follow you to the bathroom like an obedient puppy, sit at your feet while your panties lay by your ankles. he’ll squish his cheek right up against your knee and spread your legs, gazing lovingly at his favorite part of you. it makes you uncomfortable, at first, trying to press your knees together to hide him from your view. but he's stubborn in the way he's stubborn about how he takes his coffee, in the way he makes you kiss his cheek before he leaves for the day.

so you relent and spread your legs, feel the warm flow of piss as soap’s eyes dilate, watching with rapt fascination. you don’t get it, you mumble to him as he reaches for the toilet paper to wipe you dry. all he does is press a fond kiss to your knee and helps you up, panties snug on your waist when he’s done.

it becomes a habit to go with you to the bathroom when he’s home. when he doesn’t immediately get up to go with you, you’ll wait, hand outstretched. it becomes a comfort, that he’ll be with you no matter what. you miss him when he’s away, the spot on your knee where he would press himself seemingly colder than the rest of your body.

—

you start to take videos for him. you feel a bit silly, a bit dirty in a way that scrapes at your brain unpleasantly, but you’d do anything for him so you take a deep breathe before you start, and then click record. it’s awkward, at first, getting the angle correct. making sure your arm wasn’t in the way, that it wasn’t focused only on the toilet itself.

it took a few tries but when you were finally satisfied with it, the lighting and the volume just right, you send it off to him with trembling fingers, heart rabbiting as you wait for him to reply. you don’t know why you’re so nervous, he was the one that started this.

you didn’t have to wait long, a little heart reaction on your video followed by so many heart emojis, you had to scroll to reach the bottom. you giggle, heat flooding your cheeks at the caps locked praise, absolutely chuffed with his reaction.

as you wait for him to get home, you bite at your nail, suddenly shy about what you’ve done. he’s quick to abate the worries you didn’t even have a chance to voice when he comes in, large paws cradling your face so sweetly, pressing kisses across the bridge of your nose and cheeks, finally melding his mouth with yours to swallow your happy sounds.

“ah love ye so much,” he presses his adoration into your skin, burning like a brand, warm like the sun. “ah don’t know what ah did to deserve ye,” he says, awe laced into each word.

you wrap your arms around his neck to cradle him close, nails scratching affectionately at the nape of his neck. “i love you too,” you whisper into his skin, burying any reservations you may have had left into the confession, feeling like you swallowed a star with how he crushes you back.

—

it’s dark when you wake, the glow-in-the-dark stars faint on the ceiling. you’re not meant to be up this early, and you pout a bit into your pillow when your attempt to fall back asleep doesn’t work. soap’s arm is secure around your waist, an anchor in the black of the room.

“johnny,” you whisper, shaking his arm as you try to wriggle from his grip. you need to pee and you’d rather do it in the bathroom.

“johnny,” you whine, when he doesn’t show any sign of waking up. now that you’ve thought about how badly you need to pee, you can’t stop thinking about it, making it worse.

“ugh!” you huff as you shove his arm off you, almost near rolling out of bed in your attempt to free yourself. you stub your toe on his boot next, and you silently curse him as you hobble to the bathroom, hands along the walls as a guide.

you settle yourself on the toilet, sighing as you wait for the warmth to start. but it doesn’t, and you get even more frustrated because you’re sleepy, your toe hurts, and you just want to crawl back into bed with johnny.

“y’abandoned me,” comes from the doorway, the light flickering on as you startle, a noise between a gasp and a whine caught in your throat — not only by the light, but also the pouting scot that slinks his way to the floor between your legs, cheek nestled on your knee.

"s'too bright," you complain, bowing your head to rest on top of his mohawk, flattened by the pillows. he hums in agreement.

"you didn't need to join me," you say, after a moment's silence, and still unable to go to the bathroom.

"ah missed ye," he speaks mostly into your skin, and you relax back against the seat, cradling his face for comfort. "now go 'n be a good lass 'n pee so we can go back to sleep."

you snort softly, and you finally feel the relief of warmth from between your legs, keeping soap close as you slip back into a gentle sort of sleepy consciousness, content to have him there.

"tha's my girl."

[elysianightsss]

Okay I know this trope has been done time and time again but it’s a fuckingggg classic okay? Okay.

Best friend Johnny who keeps a photo of you in his pocket so he can remind himself what he is fighting to get home to.

Best friend Johnny who’s face lights up as soon as he sees you waiting for him at the airport with one of them big signs saying Johnny on it. It looks like you spent a lot of time hand decorating it.

Best friend Johnny who doesn’t argue when you ask him to stay at your house his first night home, he simply smiles with a nod because why would he ever refuse you.

Best friend Johnny who already has some of his clothes in your drawers for whenever he stays over. Brought over a duffle bag full of some a while ago and just stared filling your drawers.

Best friend Johnny who snoops around after he gets out the shower to see if you’d gotten any new toys while he was away. (You had) he grins while inspecting the new one, not a vibrator this time. No this one was moulded like a real man, very detailed he noticed. He would never tell you how he held it next to his to see the size difference.

Best friend Johnny who grins at you when he comes out of your room freshly cleaned and in new clothes to find you in one of his shirts and just underwear, dancing to the ABBA songs you were playing through Alexa.

Best friend Johnny who dances with you just so he had an excuse to have his hands on you. And oh boy does he, his thick fingers running over your body. Hot breath on your neck as you both laugh.

Best friend Johnny who feels on cloud nine while he makes dinner with you, the domesticity of it all making him yearn for more. The way you’re both moving around each other, flowing and fitting in with each other perfectly.

Best friend Johnny who even though is eating the same thing as you, still tries to feed you with an “Op’n up fa me lass.” Spoon in hand resting softly against your lips waiting patiently for you to accept, “K’mon bonnie.”

Best friend Johnny whose face drops when you tell him all about the date you had been on with a complete and utter douchebag while he was away. You don’t notice the way he freezes at your words, you don’t see the fire behind his eyes.

Best friend Johnny who finally finds the courage within him to say you don’t need to date anyone. You have him. He’s yours, always have been bonnie.

Best friend Johnny who goes crazy when you finally let him touch you. Desperately laps at your pussy, clit swollen and aching as the Scot wraps his lips around it wanting nothing more than to show you how well he can take care of you. How quick he can make you cum all over his tongue.

Best friend Johnny who is the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. He’s all over you, he’s in your every thought, your every breath. You feel him in your throat when he slides his thick cock into your slick pussy. You’re dripping a mixture of cum and Johnny’s spit.

Best friend Johnny who’s so hot the way he’s desperate for it, pathetically desperate to slap his hips against your ass. The shlick shlick shlick sounds loud in the air with the way his heavy balls slap against your clit sending rolls of pleasure through you with each thrust. “Fuck lass, so pretty! Do ye ken what ye do to me? Dis wee cunt is addictive!”

Best friend Johnny who makes love to you well into the early hours of the morning. You’re a complete dishevelled mess by the time he’s done. Hickies anywhere his mouth could reach, hand marks on your hips, hair a mess, drool on your chin, throat dry and sore from screaming his name and your cunt dripping with his cum. But you fall asleep satisfied with a smile on your swollen lips.

Boyfriend Johnny who kisses you softly all over, whispering praises and I love yous into your skin as he uses a warm flannel to wipe away the sweat and cum from your body.

Boyfriend Johnny who makes you breakfast in bed, all your favourites and some pieces of fruit for healthiness. Who delivers it to you on your bamboo tray, an apron wrapped around him that says ‘I’m cute’ on the front. His naked arse out of full display.

Boyfriend Johnny that watches you eat with a smile on your face and happiness bubbling in his chest.

[forsworned]

cw: sexual content, pnv sex, scratching, biting, marking, you being shameless as fuck about your sex life in front of the others, also not proofread

Johnny can't help but overhear the conversation you're having with Kyle about your hook-up gone wrong. About how "men just aren't men anymore", and "they don't make them like they used to". He chuckles, shaking his head as he watches his brew pour in his cup, but his ear perks up at your voice again, echoing from the hallway to the living room.

"...he literally stops me mid-stroke to whine about not scratching him! Can you believe it!" You huff, plopping down on the couch.

Kyle watches you with amusement, taking a seat next to you while he sips at his mug and glances up at Johnny. "He's unbelievable."

"And then he tells me that it hurts when I bite him!"

"Oi! Quit y'er moanin'! It's too early for allat." Simon grumbles, and you feel a touch embarrassed at his sudden outburst.

You pout. "Sorry." You apologize, deflating like a balloon on the couch and Kyle chuckles at you. He ruffles your hair to comfort you and you sigh. "You get what I mean, right?"

He nods, and then gestures for Johnny to 'solve' your little issue.

"What seems to be the problem?" Johnny leans against the counter next to Simon who is a bit vexed about being woken up to the sound of you bitching about a guy.

And then begins your tirade of how men just aren't as visceral and moonstruck by women anyone; how they've lost their passion and chivalry when it came to romance and you're starting to lose hope. Johnny pouts for you, but there's an amused look on his face.

He's so understanding. Truly, a gentleman when it comes to these sorts of things. So, it really doesn't come off as a surprise when he's offering to help you resolve 'said' problem.

Of course, you laugh in his face. You don't take him seriously. You never take him seriously.

"Up to you, obviously." He sits on the edge of your bed and you toy with the memorabilia that lines your worktable. You turn to him and he sits there looking like he got ready to fuck you.

Like no seriously, you can smell his aftershave, you can see that he's trimmed down his stubble and neatened up his disheveled mohawk. He smells like spearmint and cypress when he speaks and it's alluring to say the least.

"You're serious?" You quirk an eyebrow, fiddling with the little green toy soldier.

"As a heart attack." He smiles sincerely at you. "No pressure."

You set the toy down and silently move toward him. His baby blues never leave you as you reach out to grasp his shoulder, touch as light as a feather. Your legs straddle his hips and his arms instinctively wrap around your waist and you lean forward to place an experimental kiss to his lips.

They're soft and a bit raw. Like he's been scrubbing at them with a toothbrush for ten minutes straight and you giggle at bit.

"What?" His dark lashes flutter up at you, barely breaking the sweet kiss you've placed upon his lips.

You shake your head and smile. "Nothing." You hotly slot your lips against his and he collapses back against your bunk, easily maneuvering you against your mattress, and you feel a thrill run up your spine when he easily finds the sweet spot on your neck.

A moan easily escapes your lips, your spinal column curving as your chest presses up against his burly one. And soon your clothes are accumulating into a little pile next to your bed.

For a moment, you both analyze one another. It wouldn't be the first time you've seen Johnny naked. He shamelessly prances around the living room with his cock out because he seems to always forget his towel in his bedroom, but this is the first time you're seeing him rock hard. And fuck it's thick and veiny, uncut and weeping at the tip.

And he's sure as hell never caught a glimpse of your bare form, maybe clad in a towel, but surprisingly you've never sported a wardrobe malfunction in front of him.

"God, lassie--"

You cut him off, covering his mouth with your hand and shake your head. "I want you to show me that you're capable of fucking me right. No whining, no complaining."

He grins. "Right, just the visceral fuckin' you crave, huh?"

And that makes your pussy clench. From the minute, he enters you, you're clawing at his skin and he's groaning at the snugness of your tight wet pussy as he takes pleasure in the pain. It's addicting.

Your sharp nails against his shoulder blades, biceps, and the nape of his neck and your teeth buried in his neck as he fucks you so good. It's a deep, fast, and ravenous rhythm that makes you cum in two minutes. The orgasm he gives you is unlike any other you've experienced. Maybe because it was wrong. Using company time to fuck your teammate wasn't the best decision in the world.

But the way your body spasms, seeking purchase in his dark locks as he thrusts deep into you, getting at that sweet spot beyond that spongy area. Oh man, it's like a seventh heaven as you moan out his name.

And Johnny? Mans is on another planet. He can't even believe you're letting him fuck you. And the way you cum so quickly on his dick? He can't even hold out any longer, quickly following suit, but he's still hard. His dick molding your insides and you wipe the sweat that forms at your brow before stretching out your arms and giggling.

"Fuck, that was...that was really fun." You breathe. A grin stretches across his lips and he peeks down at the milky ring around his cock.

"Looks like ye had a lotta fun." He retorts, and you chuckle at his obvious remark.

You study the marks you've left on his body and he's more than happy to parade them around. "

"I loved it." He reassures. And he did. It was worth the two minutes, and maybe even more if you'd let him.

"Good." You grin before kissing his chin, and nipping at it. He groans in pleasure.

"Keep doin' tha' and I'm gonna have another go at ya."

You bite your lip looking at him with mischief brimming in your eyes. "Try me."

masterlist

[dmitriene]

cw: exhibitionism and voyeurism.

johnny mctavish is as horny as a dog during rutting season, but instead of humping legs he humps your pussy, any time he wants and everywhere he pleases, eyes glistening blue and wrinkling with melted smile, his hand shoved unabashedly between your legs, cupping your mound in his warm palm.

he ain't ashamed to finger your tight cunt until you're drooling on the wooden table of the café you sat in, thinking naively that you'll stop here just to drink some hot drinks and enjoy the treats, just until his fingers moved towards the zipper of your pants, teasing across the sewed line of fabric.

not even the possible public can stop johnny, he'll just snatch you away from the table you sat at, during some chilly evening in the pub with his mates from the task force, since you're too pretty for just to look at, with his cock swelling hot and throbbing beneath his pants, unable to wait any longer.

he'd fuck you in the restroom, in the locked toilet stall with your cunt stuffed full of his thick cock, dripping slick that seeps down to his trimmed pubic hair and tight balls, pulsing walls painfully tight around the throbbing girth of him as he pummels in and out of your gooey warmth, little muffled moans still escaping your lips.

piercing the air in the restroom, making men that just went in there to wash their hands freeze, understanding very well what happens in one of the stalls, rumbling out so you'll find a room, but the way your blood pressure rise, pussy tightening up, johnny is quick to whine a husky moan and scare them off.

it's should be humiliating to be caught like that, but you can't stop your eyes from rolling back at the frantic movements of johnny's hips, making your pussy so wet that each glide of cock inside of you is squelching, the pitchy mewls that escape your lips is making everything too loud, but johnny purrs it's their problem for listening.

and it is, it's also simon's problem for slipping in the stall next to yours, fisting his rudy cock in a tight grip of calloused palm that stains his calloused fingers with pearly precum, chewing at his stinging lips to silence his groans, rippling out to answer your little breathy sounds, cock throbbing when he hears the lewd slap of skin on skin, wishing he could do more than jerk off.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[leyavo]

Johnny Mactavish looking after your cat whilst you’re away for a girls trip.

He’s fought off worse than your bloody cat Biscuit. It’s only three days, how hard could it be?

The ginger cat biting his nose at 05:45 each morning, the little bugger keeping him to your routine.

Trails after Johnny whilst he stumbles down the hallway, nearly tripping him up as he enters the kitchen.

Johnny finds the ginger fur everywhere, just when he thinks he’s brushed it off of his clothes he finds his coat on the sofa. Looks more like a fur coat, Biscuit using it as a bed last night.

Biscuit does not leave Johnny alone. Doesn’t know what personal space is, he’s jumping on the sink as he brushes his teeth, pushing the bathroom door open as he tries to use the toilet. Sitting at the edge of the shower as Johnny washes, not even bothered when Johnny flicks him with water in hopes he’ll leave him alone.

Johnny thought you were clingy, but Biscuit…he’s clawing at the hem of his jeans, leaping on his lap when he’s watching the rugby on the tv. Whining as Johnny pushes him onto the sofa beside him, so he picks the cat back up after a while and just surrenders his lap.

Fights Johnny whenever he tries to break away from your routine. His arms covered in claw marks, so he sticks to the scheduled feeding times when realises Biscuit gets hangry just like you do. Can’t believe how sweet and loving the cat is after eating, nudging his head on Johnny’s clench fist.

Likes to play with a tennis ball, Biscuit drops it on the floor repeatedly during the second night. Johnny feels likes he’s being tortured for intel, no the bloody cat wants to play at 1am just like he did this afternoon.

When you finally do come home, Biscuit has no need for Johnny. He’s getting in between you both, little meows stealing your attention away from Johnny.

But each time Johnny visits you after, Biscuit is searching for him. Waking him up on weekends, dropping the tennis ball in front of him so he can roll it across the floor and chase it. He’s whining behind the door whenever he leaves.

So when Johnny finally moves in with you, he can’t help but like playing with Biscuit. You watch him from the kitchen, a box of toys Johnny got for Biscuit that he thought he’d like.

He lifts the ginger cat up to the ceiling to eat bugs or spiders, chases him through the house whenever he finds Biscuit sitting on his coat in the wardrobe, smile tugging his lips.

Johnny complaining about having no privacy and you shrug, “no difference to you babe.” Him and Biscuit both in the bathroom as you lay in the bath.

Cat series: [Ghost] [Price] [Gaz] [König]I wanted to do one for each of the guys 🥲 I love cats.

[kiss4tell]

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒, johnny mactavish.

summary: johnny forgets his lunch, so you surprise him at work in his favorite sundress, bringing him a homemade meal. but before you leave, you decide to give him something extra to get him through the rest of his shift. cw: blowjob, semi-public setting, johnny being utterly whipped for you, explicit language, established relationship. wc: 550 note: a tear just ran down my leg, no joke.

The moment Johnny sees you walk into his office, all sunshine and sweetness in that pretty pastel yellow dress—the one he loves so much—he knows he’s in trouble.

You place the neatly packed homemade lunch on his desk, grinning as you flip open the lid to show him the heart-shaped sandwiches you made. “Figured my handsome soldier might be hungry,” you tease, tilting your head, watching his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly.

He is hungry, but not for the damn sandwiches.

“Sweetheart…” His voice is low, warning, but you just step closer, sliding your hands over his broad shoulders as you lean in. “You showin’ up here in that pretty thing—s’not fair, y’know?”

Your lashes flutter innocently. “Just wanted to take care of you, Johnny.”

And fuck, if that doesn’t go straight to his cock.

His fingers twitch where they rest on the arms of his chair, restraint hanging by a thread when you sink to your knees between his spread legs. You’re teasing him, delicate fingers trailing over the bulge straining against his pants. “Bet you missed me,” you murmur, popping the button, lowering the zipper with agonizing slowness.

“Fuck,” Johnny rasps as you pull him free, stroking the thick length of him, hot and heavy in your soft hands. He’s already leaking, so pent up from the sight of you, the sound of your voice, the feel of your fingers wrapped around him.

And then your lips wrap around the tip, and Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

His head thumps back against the chair, fingers gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles go white. Your tongue swirls, your lips slide down, taking him inch by inch until the head of his cock nudges the back of your throat. He lets out a strangled groan, quickly biting down on his fist to muffle it, chest heaving.

“Fuckin’ hell, love,” he grits out, eyes squeezed shut. “You tryin’ t’kill me?”

You hum around him, sending vibrations up his spine, and his hips jerk involuntarily. His free hand flies to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, not pushing, just holding, just grounding himself in the feel of you.

Outside, he can hear his men laughing, talking—working. If any of them walk in right now, he’s screwed, but he doesn’t care. He can’t care, not when you’re looking up at him with those big, fuckin’ sinful eyes as you hollow your cheeks and take him even deeper.

His thighs tremble. His breathing shudders. He’s so fucking close.

He pants, sweat beading along his brow. “M’right there, love, keep goin’—just like that—”

Your fingers tighten around the base, stroking in tandem with your mouth, and it’s too much. His stomach clenches, his grip in your hair tightens, and then he’s coming, spilling down your throat with a silent cry. His entire body shudders as you take everything he gives, swallowing around him like the perfect little angel you are.

When you finally pull off with a satisfied little smirk, licking the corner of your lips, Johnny groans, chest still heaving. “You are tryin’ to kill me,” he breathes, voice hoarse.

You just giggle, standing up to smooth out your dress. “Guess I’ll have to do it again tomorrow, then.” And fuck, he might just let you.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

TF141 + cars

SOAP is a car guy in the sense that he drives a junker manufactured the same year he was born (the significance of which, he says, speaks for itself). 

refers to the car as she and loves bringing up how sexy she is when she chugs to life. you think it's a weird flex until you realize he's not talking to you; he's talking to the car. 

often tells her he's gonna get her all fixed up as soon as he has the money.

GAZ is a car guy in the sense that he drives a sleek, sporty, low-ass car. a convertible. keeps it pristine enough that he can keep whitewall tires on his baby and they stay clean.

cream interior. all the bells and whistles because if he's gonna cruise around london when he's off-duty, he's damn sure gonna do it comfortably. 

pays to keep it protected in covered parking while he's gone on leave.

side-eyes Soap's mismatched aftermarket parts; can't help but respect his dedication.

PRICE is a car guy in the sense that he's had his since Gaz was in diapers. the thing can't possibly have any resale value anymore but it's the first and only new car he's ever bought.

uninterested in getting her fixed up because she's no ship of theseus. no sir. he fixes only what need fixing when it needs fixing. the rest is original parts. no need to fix what ain't broken and all that.

she's almost come back into vogue as a classic car. wasn't his intent, but he's glad to see so-called collectors putting respect on her name again.

GHOST is a car guy in the sense that he's a motorcycle guy.

scoffs at Soap and Gaz preening over their rides. they don't know what it is to love their rides until they've squeezed their legs around it while it purrs.

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Johnny brings you to base for inspection by his superior officer.

When Johnny brings you to meet his friends on base, you're a little nervous, sure, but it's nothing you can't handle.

Of course, military men are brash, but they're nothing on your Johnny, and when they make their jokes, you're more than able to give back as good as you get.

But then Johnny tells you it's time to meet Ghost.

"My lieutenant, hen. My boss."

And you think that's why he sounds nervous, that he wants to impress the man, so you go with him to his office, knock and are told to come inside.

Find it very sexy when Johnny stands to attention in front of the man, actually.

Ghost is ... something else and you don't want to ruin anything for Johnny by ogling, but ... you've always had a thing for masks and dominating men, so seeing your own man submit to another is doing things to you.

"This her?" the man asks, jerking his head at you.

"Yes sir," Johnny says, not moving, even as his superior stands and comes around the desk to lean against it. He clicks his fingers at you.

"Here. Now." You blink and look at Johnny, not sure how to respond to being talked to like a dog, but he doesn't say anything.

Suddenly the man on the desks stands to his full height and strides towards you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

"Don't look at him. I gave you an instruction,"  he almost snarls. "Do y'know why you're here?"

You shake your head jerkily, suddenly sure that "to meet Johnny's friends" is not the right answer.

"Well, Johnny here kep' on about his new pretty bird and I decided I had to check things out, make sure you were good for him. Told him to bring you right in for inspection."

"In-inspection?" you squeak. Ghost leans down so he's looking at you directly through the slits in his mask.

"Said you wouldn't mind. Said you were his dirty girl. Tha' right'?"

And the thing is, Johnny has called you that before and nothing gets you going more. It's no different now. So you just nod dumbly, seeing the edges of his mask lift when he smiles.

He leans back against the desk, leaving you alone in the middle of the room.

"So strip."

And you do, pulling your jumper over your head and slipping out of your shoes, tights, skirt. You're wearing a matching bra and panties, had some vision of what you and Johnny would do when you got home.

Ghost circles you slowly.

"Hmm, nice lil' set," he says, pushing his finger under the strap of your underwear and letting it go so it snaps back against your leg.

"But not very good at following instructions," he rumbles. "Told you to strip, darlin'. Why'd you stop?"

You shiver and, with shaky hands, undo the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the side. Finally, you push your underwear down, stepping out of them.

Ghost watches you, eyes unfathomable. Then he speaks again.

"Bend over the desk."

When you do, he leans over you, letting his hand run down your side and over your ass.

He tuts.

"No marks, Johnny? Not even one little bite?"

His hand flashes up suddenly and comes down hard on your ass, making you gasp. He leans over you, front pressed to your back so he can reach your ear with his mouth.

"We better fix that."

[caffieneaddictt18]

just a little thought: chubby!reader has sex with someone who has feelings for her, and of whom she has feelings for. Afterwards, she goes to get up and get her clothes on. She is sad and whatnot, but no one wants to care for a 'fat girl', and she is beating herself up about sleeping with someone she has feelings for because she knows she can't ever go to another person now. But then he reaches out, asking her why she's leaving.

“I figured you'd want me gone…” Leaving the implied hanging in the air. That she's chubby. People don't like chubby women. “I never want you to leave this bed. I want you to stay here with me so I can satisfy you over and over again. And after every time, I will take care of you. Every. Time.”

She is stunned into silence, and he helps her get undressed again, providing an aftercare that she has never experienced before. showing her that she is worth not just the sex, but also the love and care after.

[joonieskinks]

au where you were married to Cpt John MacTavish, but wake up to find yourself married to Sergeant Johnny MacTavish (original vs remake Soap)

“No,” you state coldly. The shock was still sinking in.

“No, Price. That’s not my husband.”

Price’s gaze puzzles. “You asked for Johnny MacTavish, this is Johnny. Our Johnny.” He gestures to your supposed husband, who is taking this all in himself, but he sits just staring at you.

Johnny, who couldn’t stop admiring your face, your body, your ring on your fourth finger. He gave you that. Well, sort of.

Johnny, who was your husband. You, his wife. He had a wife in another life. Gods, what a catch you are, how did he manage to bag you? he thinks.

Wait. Gods, does that mean he gets you too?

“I asked for my John, my John MacTavish, my husband. He-“ You state and finally look, really look at the man before you, this Johnny.

“He’s too young, it’s not the same. It’s- it’s off.” You look back down to the floor, you’re utterly confused. One moment you’re in bed at home, the next you’re on base in a room that’s designated for “MacTavish”. At first you thought it was a dream, so of course you went asking for your husband just to see his face again.

You didn’t expect to actually see him, well- a younger version of your husband, much less an alive one. You had to pinch yourself, you really were here. This was real.

Maybe it was a second chance, maybe it was a cruel trick of fate. You couldn’t tell just yet. You were hesitant, scared.

But Johnny on the other hand, he was having a hard time keeping still and his hands to himself with the likes of you in front of him.

“Cap’, can ye give us a moment?” Johnny asked his superior, who happily obliged. Price eyed you as if to warn you not to do anything stupid, but still be backed out of the room.

You could still barely look at Johnny. He’s your husband, but so much younger, he’s still just as handsome, he’s technically yours but- it was all too weird. Would he even want you? What if he had someone else already?

“Bonnie? Will ya look at me?” Johnny comes straight up to you, holding your hands in his. His fingers playing with your wedding ring, he already loves the idea of it, of you as his. That ring to call you his and his alone. Never did he think he’d have anything remotely close to this, so he considers you a blessing if anything.

You reluctantly keep your head down so Johnny brings one hand to cup your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face.

The sight of his concerned face nearly breaks your heart. It hurts to see him yet it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of since his passing. To have him before you again. It’s all so overwhelming you can’t help but tear up.

“No need for that, bonnie.” He smiles as he cups your cheeks. It feels so good to have his skin on yours again, you close your eyes at the feeling.

“If you’ll have me, I’ll certainly have you. Even if ye are a cougar now.” He jokes and your eyes shoot open at his words. You hit him lightly out of annoyance, but he just smiles. You can’t help but begrudgingly smile back, rolling your eyes.

Same sense of humour. Maybe he is your husband after all.

“I missed you so much, Johnny.” You admit, bringing your fingers to graze across his face. To actually feel him again, it really feels like you’re getting your second chance at love.

“‘Ts nice to finally meet my missus.” He says softly as he brings his forehead to rest against yours, but it’s you who brings your lips to meet his, losing yourself in his touch after all these years alone…

Then it hits you that this younger version of your husband might have even more stamina and strength- so naturally you waste no time getting him back into his quarters and testing that theory.

At first you feel a little nervous that Johnny might not like what he sees. After all, you are a couple years older than he is now, but he’s utterly entranced as you stand bare before him. His hands all over your body, exploring every crevice, kissing you up and down. He can’t get enough.

“My wife’s so beautiful”, “my wife’s all mine”, “gonna make ya feel so good, show ya what a good husband I’ll make for ya.”

[inkbybambi]

john “take it like a good girl” price

simon “ride it just like that” riley

kyle “feels so fuckin’ good, sweetheart” garrick

johnny “please let me cum inside” mactavish

[elysianightsss]

Something something Johnny returns to the highlands whenever he’s on leave. It’s freezing and stinks like seaweed but it’s home and he loves it all the same. Plus there’s something laughable about seeing a beefy SAS sergeant wearing a duck feather stuffed coat.

He helps his parents out, fixing things around their old house, cooking in the kitchen at their pub and just being around for them. It’s the same routine every time he’s home, he likes it, likes the steadiness of everything being the same.

But this time when he comes home on leave, arriving at his parents pub to help out, he sees you there. A new person taken in under his parents wings. You’re just arriving to start your shift with a cheery “Evening all!” Johnny’s instantly drawn to you.

Like it’s not even funny. Whenever you enter the kitchen in your cute little black apron tied around your waist, he’s looking up from the fish he’s grilling to stare at the way your hips sway side to side as you walk. He burnt so many meals that night.

Johnny doesn’t recognize you until his mum asks if he remembers the girl who used to push him in the sandpit all the time at preschool. Then it clicks who you are. His childhood crush, all grown and so fucking gorgeous. You used to live there when you were young but when your parents drowned after a trip on a boat, you were taken away by your aunt.

He wonders why you’ve come back now but puts it in the back of his mind. He’s more focused on how prim and proper you are, sticking out like a sore thumb in the pub. Johnny’s learned you’re feisty and a little bitchy the hard way, but he fucking loves it. Makes him so damn horny. Your Scottish accent is still there but soften by years in the English countryside.

And of course he flirts with you, woos you, asks you on a date and you end up sleeping together. The little cottage you’re living in for the time being is luckily far enough away from town that no one can hear you screaming Johnny’s name. The headboard hitting against the wall with each punishing thrust. His thick, slightly curved cock pumping in and out, in and out, in and out after he spent a good hour with his head between your plush thighs. Best night of your fucking life.

When you wake though he’s gone, a note left on your pillow explaining he’d been called into work. An emergency. Worst day of your fucking life.

He’s back to saving the world, fighting to survive, living on base, joking with his task force. It all seems so mundane to him. He can’t ignore the itch in the back of his head, the knot in his back he can’t reach. He can’t rid you from his mind, not when he’s training, not when he’d just sniped someone’s brains all over the wall, and especially not when he’s in his bed, hand wrapped around his cock.

He cries out your name when he finishes in his hand, globs on stickiness coating his stomach and he prays you’re there waiting for him when he returns.

But when he does returns home, he doesn’t see you at the bar or the cottage and his mum is scowling at him like he’s kicked a puppy and his dad has this disappointment in his eyes that Johnny is transported back to his teenage years when all he saw in his dads eyes was disappointment.

He asks whats happened, what he’s done wrong but his parents shake their heads and stay silent. It wasn’t their story to tell. Johnny’s confused and hurt, thinks about just going back to base. Would brace the drive back over dealing with the icy stares from everyone in the pub.

Needing a drink to dilute his feelings, he heads to the local little market to grab a pack of beers when he sees you standing in front of the milk aisle, a sad look on your face as you decide if the three pounds you have left will be enough for both chocolate milk and strawberry milk. Even though they are two pounds each.

He starts towards you, but as soon as you turn back to your trolley he stops in his tracks. Your hand strokes over your swollen belly, a bigish bump there for five months pregnant. You know your baby is gonna be big headed just like his father.

Johnny feels as though he’s been shot. His world spins and he’s nearly sick. He knocked you up and left you. No wonder he’d been receiving so much hate everywhere he went. He hesitates, wondering if this is the best place for you to see him again, thinking up the different scenes that might take place. But he’s too late to make a plan when your eyes move to his.

He’s frozen in place watching the way your face contorts, all manner of emotions buzzing through you until they land on one that Johnny knows well. Anger. You rush forward and he gets this need to run niggling in his chest, but he stays rooted to the spot even when you slap him hard across the face.

He bites back a grin, you slap harder than Simon.

Oh yes, he’s gonna keep you for sure.

[forsworned]

cw: sexual content, pnv sex, cunninglingus

“This is wrong.”

“So wrong.”

You moan out as Johnny’s calloused fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear, peeling off the fabric to feel the wetness pooling between your thighs as he lifts your pajama shirt to reveal your braless chest. His lips immediately find your nipple and they harden at his tender touch. A stark contrast between the rough pads of his fingers that caress your naked skin. And soon he's between those sweet thighs, supping up your drooling folds, immediately clenching at his touch as you squeeze his head between your thighs. The feeling of his scruff and shaven head scratches at your inner thighs, but it's a pleasant feeling. His hair is soft, silk-ladden-like as you trace over his scalp, scratching at the follicles with your nails which causes him to moan against your pussy.

And before you know it, you're being turned onto your stomach, ass being pushed back against his pelvis as he aligns with your core. He slowly pushes into you and you arch like a cat, stretching your arms as you claw into the sheets. It's not even moaning at this point, just straight whimpering enmeshed with incoherent words. Fuck, it feels sooooo good, especially knowing that you two weren't supposed to be doing it. Or at least you think so. Was it entirely inappropriate? Definitely.

But the Captain has always made it clear that what you do outside of missions is entirely your business. So a little fun here and there isn't gonna kill you. At least that's what you told yourselves, after having euphoric orgasms, tucked under damp sheets as you cuddled against one another. You suppose everyone has a vice...this one you just so happen to share with Johnny.