#soap mactavish x reader

[dante-mightdie]

soap dropping you off at your place after your first date, pointing out the weird guy very poorly hiding in the alleyway next to your building

it freaks you out to the point where you ask johnny to stay the night, your nerves running you ragged because what if this guy tries to break in after johnny leaves? it’s only natural that he calms you down with soft kisses and gentle sex

simon only leaves his place in the alley after he gets a text from johnny, a photo of your head on his chest, fast asleep and his fingers running through your hair

a few seconds later another picture comes through, a pair of frilly panties with a damp crotch

‘a bonus for your hard work :)’

[gloomwitchwrites]

FRAAAND

I had a sudden thought and since you're open to it, what do you think Soap would do if he saw reader or someone wearing a kilt and looking at Soap and just. "I got a new skirt." And he KNOWS it's not 'just' a skirt, not with the pattern or the material and and, hallo I'm excited don't mind me 😘

Soap is going to see this as a marriage proposal. You cannot change my mind.

written with gn!reader

mdni

Johnny’s lips are sealed. But it’s bloody fucking hard.

Do you know what you’ve done? Do you have any idea what this means? Maybe you do, and that’s why you’ve done it. Perhaps you’re ignorant, and this is a simple mistake, completely unknown to you.

But does Johnny care?

No. None of it matters. None of it is important. You’re wearing a kilt, all excited glee as you show it off. The colors have consumed him, hit him over the head like a sledgehammer. The colors. The fucking colors. They’re MacTavish colors. Not a stitch out of place. And as far as Johnny can tell, identical to the one he wears.

It’s a bad habit to assume.

But why else would you have done it?

You’re screaming at him. Waving the white flag. Inviting him to pursue.

“It’s nice,” he says.

“Like a true Scot,” he says.

But swirling in his mind is far more distracting. Of the two of you. Together. Married and happy and whole and—

Fuck.

Johnny smiles. Showers you with compliments. But beneath it all, he plans.

Thinks.

Schemes.

[chamomiletealeaf]

There’s nothing the 141 boys love more than a fat pussy. Like I’m talking no thigh gap, thick thighs, cushioning and hiding your pussy away nice and snug until they open your legs to eat you up. They’ll thank you for keeping their meal warm too.

Better yet if they’re fucking you. Holding your legs together and pushing your knees to your chest so they can watch your juicy pussy take them nice and deep.

They love when you wear bikinis, tight little shorts, anything that frames your pussy nice and pretty when you bend over.

Pussy jobs 100 percent. They love slotting their thick cocks between your puffy pussy folds and watching how cute it looks getting teased.

You bet they have cheeky little polaroids of you bending over with a cute shy expression on your face showing off your pussy. And don’t be surprised if they share them with the rest of the team 🫣

[bowtiepasta]

there are four grown men in your med bay and exactly zero of them have a legitimate reason to be here.

you’re pretty sure the only actual new injury is gaz’s paper cut, which—despite his dramatics—stopped bleeding about twenty-ish minutes ago.

soap’s sat on your exam table, kicking his legs like a kid at the pediatrician, absently munching from the emergency snack stash you’ve hidden in a drawer clearly labeled MEDIC ONLY.

“y’doin’ checkups, sweetheart?” he asks through a mouthful of granola bar, brushing crumbs off his lap. “or lettin’ us rot here while you work?”

“you’re all rotting,” you say, snatching it from him and folding your arms. “from the brain outward.”

“you wound me, darlin’,” he gasps, taking a bite despite it being in your hand. “you wound me.”

the place is technically just a converted storage room with a flickering overhead light and a radio that only plays static if you turn it past 92.7. there are at least three mugs that aren’t yours, a rotating stock of protein bars (some half-eaten. guess who), and a blanket price insists you need even though winters are your off seasons. you’re convinced it’s just for him.

somehow, it’s the coziest place on base. and somehow, you’re everyone’s favorite stop.

gaz is horizontal on your stretcher. he points at the band-aid you’ve given him when you look over.

“this isn’t even the good kind,” he whines. “where are the cartoon ones? i want spider-man.”

you sigh, giving in and letting soap have at his little snack. “gave you those last week, garrick.”

“they helped! he’s a mental health aid, i tell you.”

“well he’s not licensed, i’ll tell you.”

there’s only one not actively instigating, perched quietly at your desk like a gargoyle—arms crossed with his feet propped against it. yet even he’s not innocent. you clock the faint trace of blood on his glove at a spot you know you stitched up last week.

“simon,” you say sharply.

his head tilts, slow as his attention pans from your suture box to you. “yeah, doc?”

“you’re bleeding.”

he grunts. “tiny cut.”

you hold out your hand. “show me.”

simon sighs like a teenager, but obeys. the moment your fingers brush his, his shoulders relax the slightest bit. the old injury is just as you suspected, split open and just as easily patched up.

price strolls in last, of course, completely unapologetic and somehow already holding two mugs of tea. he takes a look around the room, raises a brow at you.

“crowded office you’ve got, love.”

“don’t start, captain,” you warn. “you’re next.” you say, even though you had absolutely zero intention of working at all today. seems to be something you get roped into often, anyway.

“i’m not hurt.”

“yet you’ve been limping all week?”

“old age,” he shrugs, sipping. “comes for us all.”

you look around. four soldiers. mud on their boots. scars on their skin. loud, ridiculous, and entirely too large for this room.

you grab your clipboard. “get on the table, cap.”

he smiles, obliges you.

“i’m all yours.”

[babyybrii]

soap’s the type of guy who teases you till you’re red in the face just so you’re extra shy and whiny when he finally pulls you onto his lap. the type of guy who buys you a little stuffed animal from the airport, hands it to you with a shrug, “thought she’d keep you company while i’m away” like you’re not tearing up in front of him. the type to finger you under the blanket during movie night with the team, whispering in your ear the whole time, “quiet now, bonnie…don’t want them knowing how needy you get, do you?” the type to act casual after, too—rubbing your thighs under the table like he didn’t just wreck you with two fingers and a filthy smile. soap’s the type to fuck you against the door the second you’re alone again, hands gripping your waist like he’s starving for it. “no more hiding from me,” he growls, breath hot against your neck as he keeps you pinned between the door and his body. “next time you need me that bad, you ask. understand?

[myladyship]

"Here," you said handing over the baby. "You left this in my vagina!"

"You begged for it." He casually said, holding the baby.

[kieranduffysgirl]

MACTAVISH: a trust ˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹.

johnny 'soap' mactavish x f!nurse reader ˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹.

After Soap's injury, he falls for the sweet little nurse on his case...and so does his family. So, when she moves in to be his full time career, the entire family loves the new member of the family.

warnings: call of duty modern warfare spoilers, hospital environments, head injury, bullet wounds, affection, large family environment, badly written scottish accents (sorry!!), kissing, cuddling, angsty confessions, jealous Johnny, sweet/cuddly Johnny too 🫶

wc: 2.5k

Trust. A firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something.

Trust. Something Johnny lacked with almost everyone. The only exceptions were his family. And his team.

That was until you arrived.

When he was first admitted to the hospital after the bullet wound, he was fragile and scared. A shell of the hardened soldier he had always been.

Unable to speak or smile or laugh or move, he was stuck. It took several surgeries to fix him and he wasn't allowed a single visitor.

Except for you.

“Morning, Sergeant MacTavish…” You’d murmur every morning as you gracefully waltzed in with a warm mug of tea, and a stack of paperwork to run through. A softness hung in your aura and a loving warmth filled every room you entered.

He knew you were there, the way you leant over to check his breathing and vision, take his heart rate and vital information before just sitting for a moment sipping your coffee and whispering to him. He could feel the warmth and love radiating from you and he so desperately wanted to bask in it.

“Moved out of Ben’s house last night…ended up sleeping here, but the new old lady next door to you is sweet…her grandchildren visited so I had some company this morning…” You whispered softly, it was the first time he could hear the words clearly. He had been undergoing treatment for weeks and you seemed to have been on his case the whole time.

But the next morning he found his voice.

“Good morning, Sergeant MacTavish…I know you're probably sick of me now…” You laughed softly as you rifled through a draw for a clean dressing.

“Mmm…no’ sick of y’yet bonnie…” He mumbled gruffly as he shifted in bed slightly. His bed creaked under his weight and his limbs sore from various treatments.

“Jesus Christ…you’re awake?” You replied in a bit of a shock as you hurried over to the bedside to check him over. Your hands were gentle as you pushed his hair from his face to check his temperature.

“...’m awake, lass…can you whisper f’me though…go’ a bangin’ ‘eadache…” He mumbled as he leant into the touch like a kitten, all of a sudden feeling a need to be close to you. Like he knew he was supposed to trust you.

“Of course…okay…right, let me get someone to take over my work this morning…I’ll stay right here okay?” You whispered softly as he yawned and nuzzled slightly against your palm like a cat. A small smile gracing your lips before gently shifting to reach for your work phone.

A few phone calls later, you were sitting next to him in his hospital bed as he talked you through the rugby match on the television. His voice was thickly coated in his Scottish lilt but his tone was gentle and quiet, as if it hurt his head when he spoke.

“Lassie…” He murmured softly as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “How long can y’stay here…w’me?” His half bandaged, half scarred head rested on your own soft tresses.

You checked your watch and nibbled on your lip anxiously, his next surgery was in 9 hours…surely it wouldn't hurt to stay until then.

“I’ll stay until you’re under the anesthetic, MacTavish…” you whispered softly before cuddling up to him, just as he was trying to coax you to do.

He nodded and sniffled against your hair and whispered, “Johnny…just Johnny, yeah?” as if wanting to let you in, to let you care for him. Little did he know you’d care for him for longer than he expected.

˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹.

“Johnny!” you giggled as he pulled at your sock again as you cuddled up to him on the sofa, “Stop being a twat and let me drink my tea!”

He just laughed as loudly and as brightly as he always did, his arm around your waist and the other reaching to try and tickle your foot.

“Aye, lassie…my ma wouldn't appreciate that language!” He teased back before pressing his lips to your cheek and squeezing your waist slightly to earn him another giggle and smile as you wiggled in his lap.

Since you had moved in with the MacTavish’s to look after Johnny, you had become a part of day to day life. But, now things with Johnny were more cosy and natural, not just giving him his injections and helping him with his daily routine.

He could cope alone most days but on his bad days he couldn't buckle his belt, hold a mug of tea properly, wash his face, couldn't find his words quick enough, lost himself in his own head. So, you’d be there to pull up his jeans (with his unnecessary comments), help him sip his drink, wash his face for him, patiently wait for him to speak, and pull him out of his head.

Today was one of those days.

He had woken up feeling sick so you cuddled him and helped him take his medicine with gentle coaxing. You had guided him to the bathroom to help him wash himself and brush his teeth as his hands gripped your waist and tried to keep you close. You had helped him pull on his joggers and a loose t-shirt and ran a comb over his messy hair.

The whole time he just blankly watched you and tried to keep you against him, wanting your warmth.

It was like he needed reminding that he was okay, just like you had done in the hospital.

So, he pulled you against him on the sofa as his mother made you both breakfast to share and warm drinks as you cuddled him and put a film on for some background noise to ease his mind.

It took a few hours but by midday he was laughing and smiling again as he pulled at your socks and kissed your hair and whispered to you, “...’m so lucky, m’bonnie lassie…”

His lips grazed your cheek as his mother walked in and smiled, “Jonathan…don't smother tha poor lass…”

“She’s m’lass though…she likes m’smothering…” He replied with a cheeky smile before nuzzling against your neck lovingly.

You giggled softly and murmured, “Johnny…” but he quickly pulled away to press kisses to your cheek as his mother just laughed and sat down next to you after gently nudging Johnny to calm down.

His mother smiled softly at you and reached for your hand whispering, “Y’need to get out the house for a bit, lass…I’ll find y’a nice date or a job?”

You just smiled softly, a wave of sadness washing over you as you realised maybe she was right. You were supposed to care for Johnny, not become his wife…maybe you should be dating or having time away.

She sighed quietly and turned away from you and Johnny to watch the film, his grip on you loosened slightly. It was as if he had realised the same thing…

˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹.

After that night, an awkwardness hung in the air and a distance grew between you and Johnny until you rang him one night.

“Johnny…’s me,” You sniffled down the phone to him as you tucked yourself closer to the phone inside the dingy bathroom inside the local pub, “Johnny…can you hear me?”

“Aye lassie, I can ‘ear ya, wha’ happened?” Johnny mumbled sleepily down the phone, clearly having been woken up by your phone call. His voice was the comfort blanket you desperately craved after the humiliation you had faced that evening.

“Need you to pick me up…the bus didn't show up, he didn't either…” You mumbled down the phone as you swallowed back your tears and sobs. The embarrassment of how pathetic you must sound was creeping in, like a child crying to their mother.

You had spent hours getting ready, singing along to your playlist, washing your hair and styling it perfectly, and spent way too long on your makeup. You had spent a considerable amount on a new dress for this date, asked Johnny’s sister a hundred times which shoes looked best, and repainted your nails several times.

You did all of that for him to not turn up, and when you went to call him to check if he was simply running late…he blocked your phone number.

So, here you were; in the bathroom of some shitty pub trying not to sob your heart out because some arsehole who you met whilst shopping with Johnny’s mum in Tesco. He had accidentally bashed you with his trolley, and gave you a charming smile with a sweet apology, he stood there longer than he should have talking to you. And, in a moment of bravery, you had asked for his number. What a mistake.

“Oh bonnie…I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Johnny murmured down the phone, hurling himself out of bed and pulling a jumper with his tartan pyjama bottoms on. He shoved his feet into a pair of Birkenstocks (that you had given him last christmas) and continued to coo softly down the phone as he grabbed his keys and drove to the pub, even though he knew he probably shouldn't drive yet.

˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹.

You hadn't fully registered what was going on as you stood outside the pub watching people walking along arm in arm. Chatting and giggling filled the air, before Johnny pulled up and got out of his battered car. Even though he was wearing his pajamas, he walked across the path and wrapped his arms around you.

“Johnny…” You sobbed softly, your arms reaching for him as your body was wracked with sobs. A quiet yearning for Johnny had settled in your chest hours ago, all you needed was to be held by him and comforted. Maybe his mother had been wrong, maybe you really were more than his career, maybe you didn't need to date. You only needed him.

“Oh bonnie…dinnae think ya were so sad about ‘im…” He cooed ever so lovingly and he held you in his arms, resting your head on his chest under the warm lights of the street lamps. His thick fingers were twisted into your hair as he held you so tenderly, until he lifted you into his arms and over to the car.

˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹.

By the time you reached his family home, he lifted you into his arms and unlocked the front door. “Johnny…y’know I can walk?” You mumbled softly against his shoulders as he squeezed you gently.

He chuckled under his breath and just nosed at your hairline as he carried you to the bathroom. He settled you on the counter and whispered, “Where do y’keep those makeup wipes, bonnie?”

“The second drawer down from the top, underneath your drawer…” You mumbled as you sniffled, letting him navigate the bathroom to find the wipes. A heavy silence washed over you both as he wiped away your makeup, gently pushing your hair away from your face with his paw-like hands. Letting your natural self sit in front of him, your small scars and freckles on show. He noticed how puffy and sore your eyes looked from crying, it made his heart ache and his stomach sicken.

He gently combed your soft tresses and settled the brush on the counter, slowly bringing his hands to your cheeks and leaning in to press his lips to yours. He needed you to know he loved you, he couldn't live without you, that he would do anything for you, and the idea of you loving anyone but him made him feel sick.

Your lips moved against his gently as your hands rested on his chest, drawing small circles just below his collar with your thumbs. His body pressed against the counter as he wrapped your legs around his waist to pull you closer as his kisses grew messy and needy.

You pulled away, chest heaving and eyes teary.

“N-No…bonnie, don't cry…’m so sorry…” He whispered tearfully as he pressed his nose to your neck and cuddled you, small sobs escaping him.

You began to cry too, holding him against you before whispering, “I…Johnny I think I love you…” as you let hiccup-like sobs escape your throat.

He pulled you closer and whispered, “I kno’ I love y’a…I ‘ave f’a long time…m’bonnie lassie…” His big arms lifted you off the counter to carry you to his bedroom, knowing you both needed to be close and love each other closely.

You sniffled softly as he undressed you and helped you pull on your favourite pyjamas, they were freshly washed and smelled like home. A warm mug of tea on your bedside, and his love comforting you.

He helped you into bed, letting your usual role of career and patient switch for the night, letting you curl up in his arms as he pressed kisses to your forehead. As you settled down, he turned on your favourite reality tv show that he swore he hated, tucked you up against him and sipped his tea as you did the same. Your head fell onto his shoulder naturally and the evening became more loving and warm as you shared an embrace, several kisses and a few smiles before falling asleep in each others arms.

That was the night where everything changed. The trust between you grew deeper and your love began to blossom, but that was only the beginning…

taglist: @arthur-morgans-wife @callsignpxnguin

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

lmao thinking about how the tf141 men know you're serious by the way you say their given names. like they just turn docile immediately, no matter what they're doing or their positions.

“kyle, johnny, zip it.” swiveling in your chair, you turn your gaze towards them and glare, lips set into a thin line. the two men who sit next to each other stop their quiet bickering and nod softly, focusing on laswell once more.

ghost usually avoids doing med checkups when the time of year rolls around and it just ends up making the medical professional's jobs harder than it needs to be (they usually come to you in order to get him to do it.) “simon, i’m not in the mood. now.” he sulks and broods (swears he doesn't.) but nonetheless does the med check up, that you sit in on so he doesn't run.

price isn't exempt from it either, despite being captain. during a mission including farah and her people, the two had been going back and forth on the trek to the meet-up point. annoyed you had stopped price with a hand to his chest and met his eyes. “john, leave it alone. we don't have time for this.” he’d kept eye contact for a bit but had nodded, clapping you on the shoulder. “heard, seargent.”

ppl call you the 141 whisperer 💀 lolll

[etclouie]

kiss me awhile and soap mactavish

title; kiss me awhile (Soap MacTavish x fem!reader)

prompts; “kiss me awhile” — from reuniting lovers prompts

warnings; established relationship, they kiss obvs, soap pulls reader into his lap at the end, i think that’s it but if i missed any lmk! (328 words)

one year masterlist | main masterlist

— thank you for celebrating my one year!!! | submissions are now closed

Johnny had been away on his latest mission for a month now, and today he was due to come home.

you were in the living room, mindlessly watching something on tv when the sound of keys rattled in the front door lock.

an excited smile graced your face as you sat upright, before standing to greet him at the door.

once it was finally pushed open, you meet his eyes.

they were tired, but there was an appreciative glint in them to finally be home.

carefully, you moved towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he dropped his gear off to the side.

“christ, i missed ye”

he murmured, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist while he nuzzled his face into your throat.

it was nice, finally being able to hold him again.

“c’mere, gives a kiss”

you didn’t have to be told twice.

his hands moved to cradle your face, admiring you for a minute before he was leaning in to kiss you.

Soap grunted into the kiss, the tension falling away from his shoulders the longer he remained wrapped up in your arms with his lips on yours.

he only pulled back after a minute, both of you parting with a laugh.

having him here was always your favourite thing, of course the peace was nice from Soap’s incessant talking, but nothing was nicer than being able to hold and kiss him again.

“kiss me awhile”

you breathed out, making a smirk work its way onto his face. 

“aye i fuckin’ will”

with that, his lips were back on yours in a heated kiss, walking you into the living room so he could plop down onto the couch, carefully tugging you down into his lap to continue kissing you.

his hands squeezed your hips as you got settled, his lips on yours in an instant and his words coming out half muffled between kisses.

“gonny kiss ye all night luv, promise ye that”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[lologoinsolo]

Cats and Their Men

The cat in the pictures is the reason this series started. My Bailey, the runt and the love of my life. (Bailey is her name, very self indulgent, I know :P)

This series is mainly going to be Fluff, possible smut depending on how it goes. ASKS/SUGGESTIONS/IDEAS ARE APPRECIATED. I’d love to add more to this but I don’t have a lot of ideas

I’d say for right now it’s looking POLY141 X Reader

Part 1 | A garbage kitten, A masked man, and their cashier

Part 2 | Masked man came back… he’s not happy

Part 3 | A handsome man, A spicy kitten, and their cashier.

Part 4 | A bearded man, A grumpy cat, and their cashier

Part 5 | Kyle’s well meaning try, vet appointments needed

Part 6 | A Mohawk hairstyle, an orange cat, and their cashier

Part 7 | Feverish cashier and John’s gonna make soup

| In Between Moments |

Lost Kitten

Tiny Talk About The Kitties

Petting the cats

Main Masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

hear me out. asking the 141 (+ nikolai if you wanna) if you could "hold it". :)

Well, hello you. So glad you dropped into my inbox to give me this juicy prompt. I giggled through the whole thing. I had so much fun. It's full of humor (with a hint of spicy sprinkled in.)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (f!reader on Price)

Content & Warnings (mdni): swearing, suggestive themes, fluff, humor

Word Count: 500

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Can I hold it?” you ask, peering over the newspaper John reads.

He arches an eyebrow. “This?” he asks, lifting his reading material.

“No. Your penis.”

“My penis?”

“Yes,” you affirm. You situate your arms like you’re holding an invisible baby. “Just hold.”

John stares. “You hold it constantly.”

“Not that way,” you correct. “Like how I sometimes hold my breast.”

“Need to check that it’s there?”

“Could have got up and left,” you shrug. “Just making sure it’s in the right place.”

John enthusiastically discards the newspaper, and starts to wiggle off his pants. “Come and hold it, love.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Is it okay to hold it?”

The middle of Kyle’s brow creases in confusion. “The spatula?” he asks, holding it up in front of him. Small wisps of steam rise from the bubbling water on the stove.

“No,” you reply with a little shake of your head. “I want to hold it.” You emphasize the word, pointing at his crotch.

“You—” Kyle’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “What?”

“You know,” you say, cupping your hands in front of you like you’re collecting water. “Hold it.”

Kyle mimics the gesture. “Hold it? Like this?”

You shrug. “Sure.”

“Oh my God.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I can hold it!”

“Oh, aye. Can hold it as much as you want,” smiles Johnny.

Your question was innocent, but from his smirk, you know Johnny’s head is elsewhere. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth, wearing nothing but a pair of baggy grey sweatpants. You wiggle your hand beneath the band, and simply cup him, sighing with contentment.

Johnny chuckles around his toothbrush. “Enjoying yourself, love?”

“Oh, yes,” you breathe. “But you’re enjoying this far more.”

“Am I?”

You give him a squeeze, and Johnny nearly chokes. “Can hardly keep you in my hand.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon didn’t lock the door. Perfect. You open it swiftly, the wood banging against the doorstop.

Simon, the immovable rock, glares at you through the bathroom mirror. “I’m taking a wee.”

“Not without me,” you proclaim loudly, nodding toward his open trousers. “And I want to hold it.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Gimme!”

Without breaking his stream, Simon slams the door in your face.

“Simon!” you bark, knocking. “I wanna hold it.”

“No,” he growls.

You open the door again, slotting your face in the crack like Jack Torrance. “Please.”

Simon sighs. “I will never know peace.”

Nikolai (Bonus)

“Can I hold it?”

Nik pauses in unzipping his pants. His head slowly pivots, a question in his gaze. “Hold? While I…” He gestures at himself and then the toilet.

You nod. “Yes. Please.”

Nikolai considers, his expression implying that it’s a weird request but he’s open to it.

He places his hands on his hips. “Go on.”

With a delighted cackle, you approach, lightly holding his penis between thumb and forefinger. When the stream starts, you bounce on your toes, giggling the whole time.

“You’re an odd one, rabbit.”

“Hm,” you agree. “And that color tells me you’re dehydrated.”

[girl-lostconnection]

Eating my orange in the dark and thinking about fruit bat hybrid!Reader x hybrid!141.

When they don’t exactly realise that she is not a usual bat and still joke about vampires and drinking blood while their new addition to the team is fucking vegetarian.

Wolf!Ghost makes a joke about bloodsuckers and Reader just gives him a slow blink and says “Lieutenant, my species are frugivores” and leaves him floored because first of all, what the FUCK are frugivores???

Komodo Dragon!Price opens their file back because he thought he was sent a bat as the new underling and the file is like yeah, you got sent a bat. A FRUIT bat, you old geezer.

Harbour Seal!Soap is just astounded by how much fruit they eat (fruit bats are known to eat anywhere from 50% to 150% of their body weight in fruits) while Harpy Eagle!Gaz is thrilled to have someone who finally GETS him (harpy eagles have the largest talons of any living eagle and males have been seen to carry prey roughly half of their own body weight).

Later the pack finds out that fruit bats have not one but two breeding seasons. Reader will need to fight them off with a stick because “back up, lads, I said BACK UP”. After all they are a hybrid, not an actual fruit bat.

[superhoeva]

you wake to a shaking mattress.

peeling open your eyes and slinking your stare to the right, there's soap–head pressed halfway into the bed and drooling onto the bed.

"mornin', bonnie," he pants with a little smile, simon following with a grunted greeting of his own. "didnae wake ye, did we?"

simon cuts of johnny's joke with a loud spank, and you let out a short, sleepy giggle at the way soap eyes roll. gaze dancing, you watch the two men for a long moment, your throat bobbing with a thick gulp at the wet sound of slapping skin. the older man pounds into soap with a good grip at his hips... just like he'd done you the night before.

"flip over," simon rumbles to johnny just as he pulls out, reaching for your arm and yanking your still-drowsy body with strong tug.

the two work together with ease, ghost yanking you into a sudden hover over soap's tongue, which hurries to lap eagerly at your folds. a groan rips through you at the feeling, and simon swallows it down with a messy kiss.

hands wrap at your thighs to keep you glued to the mouth beneath you and tighten their clasp when simon plunges his cock back into johnny's ass. resuming, the pointed thrusts of simon have soap singing a howling song against your clit.

he eats you with quick but syrupy licks, the flat of his tongue dragging along you every time simon hammers their hips together. diving into your hole to slick the muscle around. groaning at the big man splitting him open on a heavy cock and the gorgeous bird sitting on his face.

"jerk his tip, love," simon murmurs over the creaking bed and macking johnny. you peek down just in time to see another silky line of pre cum spout from the tip of soap's cock, simon clutching at his balls with a rolling grip. you follow the command, palm swiping across johnny's slit before wrapping with squeezing strokes.

a choking moan sounds. johnny arches his back, bucking into your hand in a grind on simon, cock pulsing in a desperate red. you're the next to make a noise, whimpering and leaning harder onto the fast flick of soap's tongue.

"fuckin' nice, the pair of ya," simon huffs, lulling his head to watch you and johnny though the blond of his eye lashes. he spread's soaps legs a little wider, tilting into a deeper thrusts that juts right into soap's prostate.

with simon's precision and the velvety skin of your palm, it doesn't take johnny long to shot his seed across his stomach, writhing under your body with sobbed wails, your legs his anchors as simon fucks him through it.

ghost reaches to grab the back of your neck when he comes, groaning with a shaking hunch as you use you unoccupied arm to hug him closer. in his heft, ghost traps you onto the suck johnny finally remembers to execute, and your hand slips from soap's cock to simon's shoulder.

your attempt to pull yourself away fall short thanks to both of the men, who pin you despite your growing whines and fidgeting hips. you ride johnny's tongue to your finish, clutching simon and crying out both of their names.

"keep lickin', pretty boy. don' stop 'til i say," ghost commands, strong grip tucked around you tight. his cock already growing half hard again inside johnny's hole.

soap drags his palms to your ass, kneading at the flesh. grinning through greedy kisses around your pulsing nub.

"aye aye, l.t..."

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[callmecoke]

“You’re mine. You belong to me.” overrated, boring, tiresome, vaguely misogynistic undertones. -5/10

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” new, exciting, thrilling, beautiful, man who respects women, soft femdom coded, 10/10

[itsstrange]

Just saw your post about seeing Neil with two little ones. I know at least one is a girl because that man has mad girl dad vibes.

Hi there!

I don’t wanna say yes or no because I’m not sure if this is just you stating your assumptions (unless of course you know), but also because he’s private for a reason. Until it’s been somehow stated by someone else or Neil himself, I’d rather not disclose the gender of his kids. I respect people who are very private and it’s not mine or anyone else’s position to share something from them that they’re keeping hidden from social media.

I also don’t wanna get attack by the COD community lmao.

[dante-mightdie]

john who’s married to reader, who’s very comfortable in her home. even when the boys are staying…

the first time they came over and you did it, it shocked them to their fucking core. everything had seemed normal up until this point. you greeted them all with a hug, a kiss for your husband, and seat them all in the kitchen. beers and dinner placed in front of then within the next couple of minutes. what a sweetie…

you planted yourself on john’s lap, your plate next to his at the head of the table. your serving already dished up by your husband whilst you took care of his men. he feeds you from his fingers every once in a while, no one says a word when you suck his fingers after, cleaning them up with your tongue. that wasn’t even the craziest part…

no, it was the next morning when they were all sat at the dinner table again. john at the stove frying up bacon, eggs and all the fixings for a full english whilst you take your morning shower. everyone turns their head to greet you when they hear your feet padding down the stairs, only to shoot out their heads when you come prancing in, naked as the day you were born

except for john, who presses a kiss to the top of your head when you grab your coffee (already made by your husband) off the counter. simon, soap and kyle on the other hand, don’t know whether it’s acceptable to look at you right now, or if their captain expects them to avert their eyes for a minute

but then john sits at the table, same place as the night before. and then you sit at the table, also the same place as the night before. stark naked for all the lads to gape it. johnny’s eyes flicking between your tits and your husband, waiting for him to wake up from what must be a wet dream

but you pay no mind to the men gawking at the scene in front of him, your damp skin glistening as you sit on john’s thigh and chow down on your toast. your husband couldn’t care less about your state of dress as he reads through the morning paper, arm hooked around your hips and thumb grazing just below your belly button…