#soap cod mw3

[druap]

xP

[lovebeatriceplz]

Soap! Who wasn't really sure what to expect from the medic who was joining the team. However, he was more than happy to introduce himself.

Soap! Who found you quite pleasant to be around. You were sweet, gentle and good at your job. This place needed a little eye candy anyways.

Soap! Who couldn't help but feel even the movements of your fingers. Every graze, every trace of his skin. You were simply doing your job, patching him up but it had his stomach doing flips.

Soap! Who falls into a mini (deep) delusion. Surely he was special, right?. There was no way his teammates received the same treatment, that level of intimacy and softness was for him only. Atleast, that's what he told Simon.

Soap! Who finds himself visiting the medbay for the most irrelevant reasons. He twisted his ankle? Medbay, He got a scratch? Medbay, He's feeling peckish? Medbay. It's really all an excuse to blatantly flirt with you.

Soap! Who only becomes more confident when you put up with it. Making bolder moves, grabbing your wrists when you try to apply an ointment, or leaning way closer than necessary.

Soap! Who thinks about you on missions, the safety of an entire nation is a lot of pressure to carry, so he worries about you're safety instead.

Soap! Who secretly beams when the squad refers to you as "Johnny's little nurse". It was even better when you tried to laugh off your embarrassment, begging him to tell them not to call you that, he wonders what else you'll beg for.

Soap! Who ends up with his hands under your vest and his lips... everywhere after a long mission. The door was probably locked, he's not too sure.

Soap! Who will always come back to you, because you're "Johnny's little nurse". His nurse, his girl.

[luminni]

Simon has a favorite jumper. It's simple, black wool, fits him well, and he wears it all the time. Only problem is, he wears the thing all the time. He's had the thing for years and it's practically all he wears when he's on leave. By this point, the poor thing is threadbare, little holes around the armpits, the neckline, and the cuffs. It's pilling everywhere and it's covered with dog hair (from where, he has no clue).

You loved the jumper on him, he looked fantastic in it, but even you could see the thing was in a dire situation.

"Simon?" You questioned, holding up the jumper in your arms, folding it after its last round in the wash (which it mercifully survived).

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever...thought about getting this thing dry cleaners?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Don't trust 'em, they'll ruin it."

It was a simple answer, one that told you the subject wasn't up for debate. But just because he didn't trust the dry cleaners with his jumper didn't mean he wouldn't trust anyone with it. And there was no one he trusted more than you.

...

Simon came home from his last deployment late into the night, trudging through the front door and setting his bag down as gently as possible as to not wake you. Toeing his shoes off and finally being able to tug off his mask, he couldn't wait to get out of the rest of his gear.

Stepping lightly through the house, dodging the floor boards he knew were going to be squeaky on his journey to the bedroom. Ready to join you in bed the moment he got into a pair of sweat pants.

When he opened the bedroom door however, he did not find you tucked away in the covers. You were crouched on the floor, humming along to quiet music playing on a small speaker. And you were bowed over that black jumper of his.

"Love?"

"Oh! Simon you're home!" You squealed, jumping up and throwing yourself into his arms, snuggling your face into his chest and drinking in the scent you had been without for so long like you could get drunk off it, and in many ways you could.

"Hey there sweet'art" he cooed, practically purring it into your ear and enclosing you in a big bear hug. "What'er ya' up to?"

"Oh just..." you turned back around, anxiety lacing your voice, "doing a little repair work." You handed him his black jumper, folding it into his hands.

He could believe his eyes, it was smooth like it was new, no pills of fabric clinging to it. The tiny, threadbare areas and holes were patched up. Now, perfectly matched black wool was weaved in to fix it. He stared at you, wide eyed, in disbelief while you just grinned nervously. He brought it up to his face, no dog hair to be seen and it smelt like you had just picked it up off the shelves.

He kept on staring at you "how..?"

"I just," you turned back around, grabbing the sweater trimmer, the replacement wool, the sweater scent spray, and the lint roller, all in your hands. "Used a couple things" You grinned

Simon could have sworn he never felt this way before. There was this weird tightness in his chest, it felt like it was going to explode. He had owned that sweater when he Tommy was still alive, that sweater had seen the first pub crawl with the 141 boys, he wore it on your first date. The sweater was more than just something he wore often, it was his good memories wrapped up into one piece of soft and comfortable wool. His arms moved before he could stop them and he buried you in another hug, squeezing you (and his jumper) into him.

"Oh- Simon!" You giggled, dropping your supplies.

He buried his nose into you shoulder, lifting you up into him, off your feet.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice cracking a bit, "thank you."

[bejeweledblondie]

When I tell you I was pissing my pants laughing at this.

“This wallpaper is so cute, we could live here” ME IN A NUTSHELL I have ADHD (I’m medicated for it) but when I’m off it this is me 😭

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Soap: You’re 37? You look younger!

Ghost: I let a demon possess me in exchange for eternal youth.

Soap: Haha, you’re so funny, Lt.

Soap leaves

Demon inside Ghost: You gotta stop saying that, mate. Someone is gonna believe you.

Ghost: I’m getting tea.

Demon inside Ghost: Oh, with biscuits?!

[fludderpy]

Soap’s boots barely made a sound as he walked down the hallway of the safehouse. The corridor was dimly lit, with only a soft glow spilling out from the slightly open bathroom door.

“Morning, LT. I’m heading to the others, you comin'?” he asked as he passed by the door.

“Morning. I’ll join you in 10. After the mess from last night, I need a fucking shower first...” Ghost replied.

“Alright” Soap said as his gaze shifted to the crack in the door that his Lieutenant had probably left open by accident.

A moment.

Ghost stood in the shower, his back to the door. Water ran in long streams down his body. The overhead light illuminated the scars on his skin, each one a testament to battles fought and survived, like pages from a war diary.

Soap had seen him naked countless times—changing, patching wounds, washing off the grime of missions.

Get a grip, Johnny. It’s just Ghost. It’s always been Ghost.

But this time, it felt... different.

(More exclusive art on patreon <3)

[noahdrawsalot]

“THE PINK FROSTING JOHNNY, PINK!”

“I’m TRYING SI-!”

“ARE YOU COLOUR BLIND SERGEANT?”

“HAUD YER WHEESHT-!”

Cue some homoerotic cake making

[chamomiletealeaf]

Being so sensitive to squirting that the 141 make fun of your for it and have little competitions to see who can make you squirt the fastest :(

Johnny holds the record of 37 seconds from fingering you so fast you couldn’t tell when his fingers were inside or out of you.

After their little competition your poor pussy was so swollen and sensitive that all it took was a few rough spanks to your pussy from Price to make you squirt again.

“Oh well look at that? Seems we got a new record holder hm?” Price teases you and Johnny.

“That doesn’t count the competition is over!” Johnny exclaims angrily at Price.

Meanwhile Simon and Gaz are fucking rock hard from watching you squirt again so quickly.

[al4thea]

I would like to think that Ghost & Gaz tried their best to get to Soap as quickly as possible

Inspired by this image

[yuriko240]

“johnny?”

“who’s johnny?”

[naditwombly]

"Can i have your sweater LT?"

_________

PRINTS on my shop: link in bio 🫶🏻

MORE ARTWORKS [NSFW Stuff] and RENDERINGS on p@treon: link in my bio 🫶🏻

[cicadabeats]

How Do I Show You... (Part 2/2)

[witchthewriter]

Gaz: I sleep with a knife under my pillow.

Soap: Weak. I sleep with a gun.

Y/N: You’re both pathetic

Soap: What do YOU sleep with?

Y/N: Simon.

[luminni]

Can’t stop thinking about how much Simon “Ghost” Riley loves his American girlfriend.

(sorry for this being a 3rd repost, I had an account called Lumi_bunsblog but that one got deleted for some reason so this is the new one now ig lol)

Unlike the other 141 boys he wouldn’t poke fun at you or tease you about the different words you use. Kyle loves to correct you,

“Whens the soccer game on tonight?”

“Its football love, not soccer, ‘cause you kick the ball.”

“You kick the ball in American football as well.”

“Yeah but...ours is better”

Johnny’s a tease

“Have you seen my swimming suit?”

“You wear a suit to go swimming?”

“I’m not calling it a costume”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t a bloody suit”

Even Price gets in on it by pretending not to hear you,

“Can you grab some chips from the kitchen?”

“Hm? Sorry dear can’t hear ya’”

“Grab me some chips!”

“Gunna’ have'ta repeat that”

“....crisps”

“There ya’ go, really outta speak up more sweetheart”

Never mind the fact he was right beside you on the couch.

But Simon, Simon is different. Never once has he corrected or teased you, to the point where its become a bit of a hindrance.

“Can you stop by the gas station on your way home?”

And he’ll just stare at you, an almost blank expression on his face, only the fidgeting of his fingers give way to what he’s thinking.

“The petrol shop Si’”

“Right.” 

Is it because he doesn’t care? Or maybe he’s too frightened he’ll scare you away if he corrects you? Whatever it is he’ll never say, but one thing is for certain, he’s absolutely elated when you start to pick up the British dialect.

You tell people your boyfriend is a leftenant instead of a luitenant and he’s looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.

Ask for a “wife beater” while pointing at the bottles of Stella Artois in his fridge and he swears his heart just skipped a beat (despite the crude connotations of the nickname)

Ask him to pick up ‘Maccies for you bolth on the way home and he almost causes a 20 car pileup because he has to hide his burning face.

Tell him you like the black jumper he’s wearing and theres three more in the online cart already.

And when you start swearing like a “proper brit” he’s ready to get down on one knee. He hears you mutter “bloody hell” from across the flat as you listen to news report an expected  10cm of rain for today and for the first time in his life he’s thanking god Manchester is such a dreary place.

You’ve become part of his life, he hadn’t scared you off, you hadn’t gotten tired of him. You wanted to be here, you wanted him. You’ve been here long enough to pick it up, you’ve spent enough time together even your words are beginning to match each other, and theres nothing in the world that could make him happier. So he’ll never once correct you or tease you when you ask to go on a vacation even if he’s blindly nodding along to your requests and scurrying off to the bathroom later to look it up and figure out you wanted to go on holiday with him. Cursing under his breath while he fishes his phone from the sink because he dropped it in his shock at the revelation you wanted to go on holiday with him. Give him two days and he’s already bought the tickets

[spiltspit]

grounding

[temeyes]

hair pulling (extra under the cut!)

you brought this to yourself, soap...