#john soap mctavish

[blingblong55]

Needed me- John 'Soap' MacTavish NSFW

Based on a request:

Adding fuel to the fire with Johnny coming home to his lass cooking his favorite dish and rewarding his lass with a good fuck doggy style on the kitchen island. The lass is missing her husband after all :3

F!Reader, husband!Soap, doggy style, unprotected!sex, praise

You were in the kitchen, skirt lifting up every now and then as you cooked his meal. He watches from afar, leaning on the doorway, eyes scanning your figure. "I can feel your stare, Johnny," you say without looking back. He takes this as an invitation and walks over to you, "Yeah? Want me to show yer where exactly I was starring, my love?" his voice low with a slight growl. Hands roamed your ass. "I'm afraid you'll eat your dessert first before lunch."

"Is it so bad?" he gives you a proper spank and then massages the area. "Johnny!" you laugh. He leans onto you and turns the stove off. "C'mon, let's go and have some fun." his hand now squeezing your ass. "Johnny, you're parents-" he cuts you off and moves you over to the kitchen island, bending you over it and giving you more spanks. You whimper and try to call for his name. "Shhh, be a good girl and take me, yeah?" Your panties were put aside, spit on his hand and then he began to finger you.

"Let me open yer for me, think you can take that?" his lips to your neck as he nibbles onto the soft skin. "Johnny-" You try to stop him but the pleasure is too good. Your chest to the cold kitchen island. A hand on your hip while he thrusts into you. "It's okay, bonnie, it's okay." You hear the zipper of his trousers and then the belt hits the floor. He chuckles, "oh the things I'll do to you." he spanks you once more and then without any warning, you feel the tip of his aroused dick inside of you. The thick head parting your wet cunt. "Oh...fuck...Johnny." you moan and try to move your ass back to he could already be in you. "I'll ruin you, R/N," he promises and begins to slowly thrust into you, your cunt already used to his size still aches.

Your hands are on the cold island, trying to find somewhere to grip. "Fuck...ah-i...johnny...your par-"

He raises your shirt and without any effort unclips your bra, hands on your hardened nipples. "Let me fuck you, okay.. and then I'll be your good husband." he grins, both hands on your hips, his thick cock fucking into you, making you shut your eyes. But he wants to see your pretty face so, a hand cups your face with force. "Look at me, lass." Your back arched slightly, teary eyes on him, "That's my good girl." Your bodies collide with the other, and the slaps from his dick inside of you fill the kitchen.

Your mouth is now stuffed with his fingers, tears running down your face. Your ass is red from the slaps. "Oh...my pretty pretty girl." he kisses your neck, hand still gripping your hip. He groans with hints of growls, "oh fuck" he whispers and goes faster. You gasp loudly once your cunt drips from your sudden orgasm. You lean forward to the island, your whimpers and moans feeding into him. "Yeah, you like it this way, don't you?" he chuckles, free hand travels your back.

He slaps your ass a few other times and finally his cum leaks into you. "Oh shit...fuck..." his thrust now slow. He leans to you, dick still leaking inside of you. "Oh lass...my pretty lass." he kisses your shoulders and chuckles. "Can't talk, R/N?" he continues to kiss your shoulders then lets the cum drip down your thighs, his dick back inside of his boxers. You hear the zipper of his trousers and belt, his arms pick you up and he carries you to the bedroom. "You did so well, I'm proud of you, R/N." he kisses your forehead.

A/N: There was aftercare, but my brain is a mess atm, sorry<3

Tags: @anonymuslydumb @liyanahelena

[rejected-reapermain]

More fnf Ghoap AU doodles💕✨

[sapchat]

141 head cannon based off irl story

So my brother-in-law’s brother was telling us how he met his current wife, (he’d been married 10 years then she cheated and they divorced.) they’d been coworkers and had hung out outside of work with others and stuff. Well one day he was like “hey a group of us are going to ‘local pizza place’ after work, wanna come?” And she was like “yeah sure I’ll see y’all there!”

Guys she got there and it was just him. Was a complete set up and he was just chilling. But she was like “eh whatever let’s eat”

He moved in with her 2 weeks later and they’re married with 2 kids.

It’s 141 coded. You can’t tell me that Soap wouldn’t be like “hey lass me and the boys are going to the pub later, wanna join?” And showing up to Johnny just sat at a table like ‘😄’

Gaz is a little more subtle… he invites you out but when you show up and no one else is there he’s just like “☹️ they ended up not being able to make it…” ‘😏’.

Price is also a little more subtle, he’s all “hey we’re gonna try and go try this place! I’ll even drive you!” Just for people to slowly start dropping out/getting called back to base until it’s just you two.

Simon honestly probably doesn’t even give it 2 weeks until moving in. He’s probably putting his socks in your dresser that night. He isn’t subtle about the invite either, “going to the pub later, wanna come?” Not his fault you just assumed the others were coming too…

[toomanywordsnllines]

Going through the requests I've recieved, and starting with some kisses <3

These were really fun to do and amazing for my creative brain juices

[lanialania00]

[swordsandholly]

Been thinking about the 141 boys coming to visit your southern family…

Price ends up out back with your papaw and uncles staring at a riding mower that they haven’t been able to get back up and working. Beer in hand, hip cocked, mimicking their ‘uh-uh’s and ‘yep’s. He tries to help with grilling but your dad won’t let him anywhere near it because “damn brits can’t cook out to save their lives. I’ve seen what y’all eat.”

Ghost gets a little overwhelmed by the women fussing over him. He’s on his third plate of food and your mimi is still loading him up with more mac n cheese because “He’s just such a big boy - he really needs to fill up! Are you sure you’re feeding him enough?” Luckily Simon is a literal human vacuum - a total garbage disposal. He drinks about a pitcher of sweet tea by himself because you can’t tell me that man doesn’t have a deadly sweet tooth. You have to drive home after the food coma they put him in.

Gaz is the decided favorite son-in-law (never mind that you aren’t married yet.) He’s just so polite, happily helping wherever needed. Quick witted and more than prepared to participate in the small town gossip. Giving genuine, dramatic gasps at the news that the preachers son of your family’s rival church took a trip (went to prison). It just makes sense that boy always had a screw loose, after all. He picks up on the cooking easily enough, asking your mom for all her recipes to make both you and her a lovely custom cook book of family recipes.

Soap goes absolutely hog wild on the four wheelers with your cousins. Regaling the younger ones with stories of his ‘adventures’ (pranks on the other 141 members.) He picks up some of your slang for the fun of it. After all, sigogglin’ just works with a Scottish accent so well. Unfortunately he can’t handle the jalapeño corn bread - it’s just too spicy for the poor boy.

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Imagine Johnny coming back from deployment and he goes to open 'er (your legs) up and then all you see is horror on his face.

You shaved. That's it. No period, nothing scary down there. But to him?

Guys he's fucking BAWLING. I think if this was his first time since coming back from deployment he'd lose his shit AND ACTUALLY CRY.

"bonnie... Ye shaved 'er bald," he says, having to keep from crying, "what'll keep 'er warm in the winter?"

[vampiradelmal]

Boyfriend!Soap who just loves his girlfriend. Carries a photo of you with him in his wallet. Also, has a photo of you in a heart frame on his office desk on base.

“Yeah, this is my wife 😼”

Some of his coworkers on base genuinely believe you two are married. No ring, no ceremony, but spiritually Soap is devoted to his missus MacTavish.

Bonus: a rookie was crying over his girlfriend breaking up with him, so in turn Soap did what he does

“Awww man, that’s tuff… my wifey would never!”

[rebeza]

hi <3

[ellenchain]

my canon

[yawnderu]

cw: creampie, threesome, deepthroat, hybrid!cat!reader

“Hell's fuckin' bells.” Johnny grunts out, his rough hold on your hips tightening up as his hips slam against your ass, your tail wrapped around his meaty, hairy thigh.

He loves your flexible body— how easily he can force you to arch your back, keeping your soft ass up as he pounds into you, his cock getting harder with each thrust, pushing your mouth down on Simon's thick, needy length.

Your hands come up to Simon's stomach, nails slowly digging into the scarred skin as you knead the thin layer of fat, unable to tell them how good you're feeling as Simon pushes your head down on his cock, deep moans leaving his lips.

“Needy fuckin' thing.” His head is thrown back as he feels your sharp nails digging into his stomach, the purrs leaving your throat send vibrations to his already sensitive cock, making it harder and harder to hold it in.

He can feel his muscles tensing up, thrusting into your slutty mouth a few times before he's emptying his balls down your throat with a low grunt, spurts of hot cum going right into your needy mouth. Johnny's hand is quick to wrap on your hair and pull you closer to him,

“Show the LT how much of a dirty slag ye are.” He groans out, voice husky with raw desire. Johnny's free hand goes to hold your jaw, forcing you to look at Simon while he rams into you at an unlawful pace, using your cunt as a fleshlight.

Simon stares back into your eyes, his brown eyes holding a mix of possessiveness and arousal. He can see the desperation in your eyes— the need for more, and it only fuels his own desire. He signals Johnny to let go of his rough hold, easily pulling you back into his burly arms, his warm hand scratching the back of your ear tenderly, a complete contract to the way Johnny is fucking into you from behind.

“Filthy little animal.” He whispers, his breath hot against your ear. Johnny's thrusts become more forceful, his hips slamming against your plush ass with unrestrained force, leaving both of you gasping for air.

It doesn't take long for you to cum, Simon's demeaning words and Johnny's rough fucking mixing together, making your brain hazier than ever. He continues to thrust into you relentlessly, riding out the waves of your climax before he reaches his. With a powerful, deep thrust, he shoots ropes of hot cum inside you, his hips grinding against yours as he marks you as his own.

[rejected-reapermain]

Don’t touch his Soap 🧼 >:/

[lostintransist]

The gym thing ... reader fucking gaz in missionary w her strap while soap rides him?

Anon I hope you are ready for what you inspired. It is nothing but smut below the cut. MDNI 18+ Graphic and explicit sexual content.

Kyle couldn’t rightly tell you how he ended up here. Not with pleasure and pressure scrambling every cell in his body. The pillows stuffed below his low spine were compressed by both his weight and the receding and returning pressure of Johnny riding his cock. His hands are trapped. He remembered that every time he twitched to stop the torture. Combined with the pressure of your strap stretching his asshole, Kyle wouldn’t have a name except you and Johnny kept telling it to him.

He would remember later, that you had been a bitch all day. Woke up too hot and crawled out of bed snapping at Johnny when he tried to pull you back. Kyle hadn’t realized the timing of your bad attitude meant your period was coming. The week before you bled you would bite through steel and pluck an eye from a man’s skull without flinching.

That knowledge might have saved him from this pleasure-filled torture.

Those thoughts are too close to coherent and cannot find purchase in his gray matter.

With his ankles hooked around your waist, he can do nothing but be used. Any time he tried to buck up into Johnny, to find release that would send him spiraling out into space your hands would press his thighs wider.

You tsk at him.

“Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

A hand appears on Johnny’s hip. The man whines at the contact.

“Slow down Johnny. If he comes before you do, I’ll suck you off.”

The feral glee in your tone has Kyle’s asshole, cock, eyelids, twitching in time.

“Ple-ple-”

Lips appear on his; the scuff of growing hair tells him it’s Johnny. The tongue seeking entrance at the seam of his mouth finds the back of Kyle’s teeth with one sharp breath.

The slight bump of each ridge of your strap pulling back bit by bit keeps him from catching a full breath. Why can’t he breathe? He needs something beyond reach. If he could but graze it his lungs would work again.

When the tip pushes in and out, again, the tears begin to streak down his face. Weird wet sounds beyond Johnny are the only warning. You had added more lube to the silicone. That became clear as you bottomed out. Kyle’s back arches as much as possible with Johnny nipple to nipple with him, tongue still sweeping his molars.

Kyle wouldn’t have ever guessed he was a screamer. He did then. The guttural cry ripped through him as every muscle tightened. His bones creaked from the weight of the orgasm. Johnny let out a whine as he felt hot seed fill his ass. He started to lift his hips, thighs flexing around Kyle.

“Johnny, stop.”

The command from you is sharp and still barely heard over the roaring of blood through Kyle’s ears. Johnny pulls back from Kyle’s face, panting against his lips. Neither man is able to articulate a thought, eyes wide and unseeing.

You remove the silicone from Kyle with a delicateness he had not had from you all day. It is replaced with a wet cloth. The scrape of the fibers against his skin is too much and more tears leak from his eyes, settling into his hair. Johnny leans to the side slightly, tongue tasting the salt from Kyle’s eyes. After a small ice pack has been nestled between his ass cheeks you disappear from his senses. Kyle hadn’t been this disorientated since the time he fell from the helo.

A hand creeps between the men’s chests. You lift Johnny to his former position; both men whimper at the sensations. One knee settles next to Kyle’s ribs before you swing the other over. Straddling his chest you face Johnny. Kyle didn’t know when you had stripped naked, Johnny also looked surprised. You glance back.

“Get that wicked tongue ready.” It’s the only warning either of them gets.

Bending forward you rest your elbows on the bed outside of Kyle’s hips, sucking Johnny’s weeping cock into your mouth. One hand cups Johnny’s balls and the other traces patterns in Kyle’s pubic hair.

He can breathe again. A sharp inhale brings only the wet scent of you. Kyle dives in, murmurs, and pleas for this torture to end even as he hardens against the strong ring of Johnny’s asshole shrinking on him as the man finds his own release.

You aren’t satisfied until both men have left tears on the bed and your orgasm shook all three of them. This is the reason they bought a flat with the largest damn tub they could find, then ripped it out and installed a bigger one. Your legs find strength before either of your lovers and stumble to run a bath for them.

“Her…period…is next…week,” Johnny wheezes.

“That would explain,” Kyle paused, blinking as he searched for the triggering event, “the breathing too loud.”

The men laughed breathlessly. Each thanked any power that could hear for their good fortune of meeting you at the gym and for the cocky asshole who sparked a conversation between the three of you.

SoapGaz | John Price | Simon | Phillip Graves | Ghost | SoapGaz/Reader NSFW | Phillip Graves NSFW | AO3

[lanialania00]

Priorities

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

[lialucis]

One two three word vomit goo~

Johnny walking into the common room, cause fuck logic, and seeing one of the little bits from the office sitting on the floor with a book in their lap. Messy hair, heels next to them and just relaxed. It was after hours, no paperwork to compile and prepare for the next day. Just some 'me time'. Being the resident busy body he crept closer before leaning on the larger copier machine. Blue eyes widening and trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. This wasn't any bird. But the new little intern recommended on Laswell's dime. A very much 'Soap no touch' personnel. And God's could he see why now. A little baby bird copying a book of old recipes, clearly hand me downs. Bobbing her little head as she commented on which one she thought looked the best. Maybe she'll try this one, and a giggle when she shook her head. There was no one to share it with.

"I'd love tae be yer taste tester lass."

"son of a mother fuckin' bi- don' ya know how to knock?!"

Oh this bird was far to cute when spooked, hands flailing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. And pouting like a wet kitten. Definitely checking all the boxes of the 'Soap do not touch' category.

"Sorry lass, didnae mean tae. But my offer still stands. If ya wan' a taste tester."

A scowl, lips moving in such an enticing manner as the little baby bird thought the offer over. Huffing before turning her back to him.

"Maybe, if you don' scare me again... Dick..."

Oh how Soap can't wait to taste... And maybe touch.