#puppy!soap

[whinesandwhimpers]

puppy!johnny being selfish during sex and owner!simon immediately picks up on your sad noises and pulls johnny off, grabs his jaw roughly and scolds him on neglecting the kitten before simon pushes him away and settles between your legs.

"'s'alright, kitten, I'll take care of you, my good kitty," he coos, large hand on your cheek as you nuzzle against it and stare up at him with wide eyes, before he turns to johnny. "bad dogs don't even get to watch. go sit in the corner and face the wall."

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆Pink Milk ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

✧*̥˚ 18+mdni *̥˚✧

✧*̥˚ Master List *̥˚✧

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ series will contain the following kinks. Objectification. Somnophilia. Pet play (this is a hybrid!au). Dacryphila. Spanking. Orgasm control/denial. Exhibitionism. Mixopilia. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Summary: In a world where hybrids are second-class citizens, you struggle with the fact that you're on your last chance at being owned. Your new owner is clearly excited to have you, but the gag is that you're an F1 cat hybrid, and your wild side is hard to tame.

Kyle was counting down the minutes until he could leave work for the day and get home to welcome his new pet. It was a long and tedious process to get cleared for a hybrid, and he knew he wanted the companionship after working with Ghost and his military grade hybrid Soap. He had watched those two out in the field and had seen them in private. Practically joined at the hip, the hyperactive golden shepherd was known for his loyalty and work ethic, and when he wasn't up under Simon, he was begging to play with Kyle.

And while Kyle adored Soap and appreciated his companionship, he wanted his own little hybrid. Something loyal, sweet, energetic, smart, and could be trained easily enough.

There's a process when getting approved for owning a hybrid legally. You have to do interviews, your home has to be inspected, and then you get to view the ones available. He knew he didn't want a young hybrid. The idea of separating a young hybrid from their dam didn't sit right. He also didn't want the trouble of housebreaking a little hybrid. He had looked high and low, sure he was going to get a dog hybrid, maybe a female, so he could try and convince Simon to let him breed Soap with her.

What he found, however, was a gorgeous Serval mix. First generation, certified pure, dam is a wild serval hybrid and sire a main coon hybrid. Suddenly he didn't want a dog hybrid, he wanted the challenge of a pretty kitty that would have a wild streak. He read her profile, smart, mostly even tempered, recommended for owners who are experienced in training F1 hybrids.

Kyle thought about his time with Simon and Soap, and he had watched those two teach other handlers and hybrids how to work together. He himself has often assisted in these training sessions. So, in theory, it shouldn't be that hard if he has Simon for help.

Kyle was busy finishing up his reports for the last mission they all went on, and he was just about ready to run home. The door to the office opened up, and Soap had practically jumped him. His ears tipped forward, tail wagging so fast that he was vibrating. He licked and kissed all over his face, drawing laughter from Kyle.

“Down Soap.” Simon stood in the doorway, arms crossed as he watched his partner jump Kyle.

“He's fine.” Kyle said as he scratched the pup between his ears.

“Yeah Si, I'm fine!” Soap smiled, “This is mah last day gettin’ Gaz to mah self.” He whined just a bit.

“You act like I'm abandoning you.” He rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Ye might as well! Wot if tha other pup is cuter than me and ye like ‘em more?” He nosed at Kyle's cheek, a pout on his face.

“Well one…she's a cat.”

This made both Simon and Soap pause. A cat? How on earth was a cat useful? Soap tilts his head to the side, genuinely confused, because how is he supposed to play rough with a cat? Simon just hummed and leaned against the doorway.

“You got a cat on purpose?” Simon asked, quite curious, really.

“She's a F1 Serval Main Coon mix. She's gorgeous really.” Kyle showed them a photo of her from his phone. “I'm gonna call her Poppi. She looks like a Poppi right?”

It's a photo of a cat hybrid. She's pretty in a sleek and regal way. Her ears perked up high on her head, hair a wild mess. She isn't small by any means, quite curvy and plush, her tail slightly bushy and wrapped around her waist. She stares at the camera with lidded eyes. It almost looks like she has on eyeliner with how there are dark rings around her eyes.

Soap squinted his eyes, “She looks like trouble. Cats cannae be trusted Gaz.”

“Soap.” Simon scolds him, “an F1? How did you manage that?”

“I put down that I worked in the military. Besides, it's a cat hybrid. She can't be that hard to train.” Kyle laughs as he gathers his things. “Simon, I'll give you a call when she gets settled in.”

You were absolutely not wearing any of the clothes that your caregiver was trying to get you in. You hated clothing, it felt too restrictive, itched your skin, and every piece was clawed to shreds. So the caregiver sighed and transported you to your new home naked as the day you were born. The house was pretty, brick front, large yard, and settled in a nice neighborhood. You already hated it. If this was anything like your last home, you'd be back at the shelter before you know it or sent to a zoo or, worse, sent to a breeder facility to try and breed out the feral. The truck came to a stop in front of the house. The caregiver hopped out and met who you assumed to be your new owner. He's pretty as far as a human goes. His skin reminds you of the stories your mother would whisper to you about the males from where she was from. She had said that you hailed from the dry grasslands and that you were always going to be wild like her.

You miss her terribly.

You watch through the plexiglass window as the guy shakes your caregiver’s hand and signs some paperwork. He's all smiles, but then his eyes get wide. He runs inside for a second while the caregiver opens up the back of the truck.

“Alright now…this may be your last chance.” They say, “If they give you back, you may get sent to a zoo or breeding facility.”

You only hiss and flex your ears back. Eye narrowed and claws out. You never say words, hadn't said actual words in years, not since the first home you were in some time ago.

“None of that now.” They say as they reach in to clip the leash to your collar.

The new owner comes back, and he's holding a pretty pink fabric. It's long and translucent, with soft pink fur on the edges and sleeves. “Hey sweetie.” His voice is soft and low, non-threatening. “Don't want you bared for the whole world. Why don't you put this on, and we can get you in?”

The only response he gets is a low hiss and baring of your fangs. Your tail twitches in aggravation. The caregiver only sighs, saying something about you not liking clothes. The owner only chuckles and turns his brown eyes back to you.

“I understand the dislike for clothing, sweetie, but I would prefer you put your robe on. When we get inside, you can take it off.” He offers the robe out to you again.

Eyeing the fabric and then his sweet and polite smile. Slowly, you reached out your hand and snatched the robe, shoved your arms into the sleeves, and frowned. Your new owner nodded his head, taking the leash from, we'll your old caregiver. You hopped down out of the truck and reluctantly followed him into his home.

“Are you hungry, Poppi?” He asked as the front door shut behind you both.

The flat look you gave him said everything you hoped it would. That you wouldn't be answering to whatever he called you.

“Do you not like the name?” He furrowed his brow when you didn't answer. “I've already sorta had the tags for your collar made, and that was the name I filled out on the forms. But I'm sure you'll have lots of pet names in no time, sweetie.” He reaches to pet you behind your ears but is greeted with a low hiss. You angle your body away from him and immediately shed the frilly robe.

You don't say anything, and simply turn your nose up. The old ratty collar is taken off of you, and he then ushers you deeper into the house. It's tastefully decorated, as much as a man can do anyway. The air smells of clean linen, the TV is on, and it's some strange game with a black and white ball being pushed around. You've seen that ball back at the facility, dogs pushing it back and forth. Other things that catch your sight are a hammock nestled in the corner, plenty of blankets and pillows in it. It's set up in front of a window. On the outside is a bird feeder. There's a scratching post in the room too, next to the couch is a pink fluffy pet bed. All of these things make you bristle and also make you want to purr.

“Sit down, Poppi.” He instructed, pointing to the couch. In front of you, when you do sit down, is the coffee table, on it is the new pretty lacy collar. It has a charm on it, a pink and white paw print, and next to it, a heart tag that you assume says your new name.

It then dawned on you that he was going to put that around your neck! As soon as he picked it up, you were on your feet and over the back of the couch. Hissing at him and frowning.

“Now Poppi, you have to wear it.” He smiles, but it's a tight-lipped one.

“Hmph…no.” The first words you've said in years, and it's you telling him no.

“Well sweetie that won't do.” He slowly moves around the couch, creeping so that he doesn't startle you. “It's important so that you can be safe.”

Your tail flicks in annoyance because yeah, he's right. They drill it into you during nursery school and how important it is to wear your collar. It keeps you safe, helps you be identified, and above all else, makes your owner happy. But that was for domesticated hybrids. In your mind and in your heart, you were wild. A collar seemed to be demeaning in a way, but your years of nursery school itched at you. Clawing for a moment to at least try on the pretty collar.

“Come on, pretty girl.” He encourages you, holding out the collar and shaking it gently. The soft sound of the metal name tag clinking. “Let's at least make sure it fits well, yeah?”

Your ears swivel back, and you glare at him. That tight smile is still on his face, and it makes the kitten in you worry. Your mind tells you about your past owner who withheld food and comforts when you didn't listen. Didn't allow for certain things to happen. He always had that tight smile before he punished you.

Zoo or breeding facility? You weigh the consequences of not putting on that collar. You think of your mother in a breeding facility. You think of your recessive gene sister who came out snow white and how she would always be stuck there. You're reminded of the zoo your mother's brother was sent to. And shudder at the thought of that.

“Fine…but no clothes.” You sneer at him. He relaxes, and the smile isn't as tight. You see the nerves melt from him, and he approaches you slowly, afraid you'd change your mind.

“You don't need to wear clothes in the house. But when we have company, you need to wear panties and your robe.” He says quietly. His fingers brush against your skin, tracing across your shoulders as he fits the collar to you. He takes this time to look at you closely. He thought your photos didn't do you justice, your pretty bronze skin, and the spots on you made his choice in pink the best choice he's made. Maybe he could dress you in lilac in the winter months, light orange in the fall, and during spring, a pretty pale blue? He gently grabs your chin and brushes his thumb across your cheek. A low hiss rumbles through your chest, but he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, he smiles at you, “I'm Kyle, and I'm happy to have you here.” He lets go of you and takes a step back to give you your space. “I've read your file, and I know it will take you time to warm up. You don't have to call me master or owner if you don't want to. You're my pretty kitty now, and I plan to spoil you rotten.” He chuckles and heads past you to the kitchen.

You're a bit taken back by him. By now, an owner is trying to assert their dominance. Demanding that you submit like a dog would, most humans assumed that all hybrids acted like the canine kind. You look around the living room and then follow him to the kitchen. You don't approach him. Instead, you watch him as he goes about pulling food from the fridge to make dinner. On the counter is a pretty set of cutlery, all pink and white with the same script that matched the tags on your collar.

You frown. You give this new arrangement a month before he's sending you away, when he realizes he's welcomed a wild animal into his home.

a.n: sorry this is a day late lol. But my word document gave me hell and when it crashed I lost like half of my writing. I know I know, save as you go, but I was in the zone. I'm taking requests for this au. And I'm also writing somethings I enjoy also.

Tag list: @unclearblur @gazsluckyhat

[arabellasfvv]

Johnny frowns so bad when you open your own door. He dives for it everytime so you don't even get near touching it. But when you do manage to open it he feels like he just has lost his life's purpose cause what

[gothghostiie]

silly thought I had while drawing, I figured you’d appreciate it haha

dog show concept - it’s Johnny, collared and leashed, with you showing him off to the 141, “Look how behaved he is! I can leave him at home for a good two hours by himself.”. you know how dog shows are like “this is the perfect (x) breed”? it’s just you pointing out all of Johnny’s features like, “Isn’t he the perfect mutt? His biceps are great.”. Johnny having to keep his mouth shut while you feel him up, pointing out to the 141 all his features like they do at dog shows, “Chin up, Johnny, c’mon.”

mach what you call a silly thought is a literal masterpiece I am FOAMING at the fucking mouth oh my god

imagine how he must feel sitting there on his knees, muzzle over his face and collar around his neck, leash in your hand with a slight pull at all times because he will try to go and paw at the other men if you don't. he's a good dog, he really is, but just too curious and affectionate for his own good :( hes sitting quietly with flushed cheeks while you show off his features - good biceps, strong thighs, very strong and sharp canines, all while feeling him up!! hes gotta be careful, if he gets hard you will gush about how fertile he is

the other men watch in delight and amusement while the big man is shown off, even asking you questions about him.

"he listen well, bird? gotta keep ya dog under control." price murmurs softly, giving you a mock-stern look, making you chuckle. johnny does mostly listen and you're glad when he does, but maybe he does need more training. Gaz is beaming with amusement, asking if he can pet soap and of course you let him! soap is such a friendly boy, it would be a shame not to let him!!! (plus his fur (his mohawk) is so soft, it's heavenly.) Ghost is innocently asking if he can do any tricks, even if he just wants to see johnny humiliated a litte bit, knowing just how eager you are to show him off. now hes growling while giving you his paw and rolling over, the only thing holding him back being your soft praise and the treats you stick through his muzzle

[starry-eyedblog]

currently imagining johnny with a muzzle strapped to his face, drool slowly dripping off the metal and down onto your poor shivering form. he’s rutting into your thigh like a dog in heat, panting and growling as he rolls his slick cock against you continuously, hands gripping at you too tightly. he’s using you to get off, uncaring of your pleasure. that’s until a large hand is clamping down on the back of his neck, yanking him back and tutting loudly, “bad dog.” it’s simon, your owner, saving you from the naughty, dirty dog :((

[x-snickersnap-x]

johnny's "please? for me?" must be DEADLY

[tradaviahe]

eepy ouppy soap

[justanofficeworker]

Sneak peek for “man’s best friend “ :

“Yur just needin someone to treat you sweet, don’t ya lass? I can do that f’r ye. Just let me taste ya. Tha’s all i want , win’nea ask fer more.” He begged from outside the cage , fumbling with lock .

[starlight-shades]

Couldn’t decide what to draw so I drew the boys

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[whinesandwhimpers]

sorry guys but puppy!soap deff has a piss kink and pees on u to 'mark his territory'

[aary-soap]

reunion :)

(heavily inspired by “all that’s said in the low light”)

[littlelunababi]

Dating Mctavish 🧼

I imagine he’d be just a bit tame at first. He didn’t want to scare you off with his antics. He’d be a gentleman nonetheless. He’d hold and open doors, help you with your heels, all the works because he’s in love.

He would then, start getting comfortable, and you’d see he’s a bit of a tease and an asshole, but you love it though. It’s kinda cute when he does it.

I also feel like he’d be handy and handsy. The door is squeaking? No problem, but he WILL grab a handful of your ass on the way to fix it. And on the way back to grab his tools, after seeing what he needed. And when he finished. And when he went to put his tools away.

I also feel like he’d be the type to DOG you out and count that as one round, and be ready to go again. Like- you cannot tell me his drive and stamina are not high.

He would have your hands pinned above your head, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you into the broken bed. He’d bite your neck and lips before kissing you. He’d mutter in his accent too, “ya feel tha? Yeah? It’s makin’ ya drool Bonnie”, and trust he licked it right up too.

After you both came, he would slide between your legs and eat you quite literally like a starved dog. You’d grip his hair trying to pull him away, your cunt raw and sensitive but nothing is stoping this man, not unless you actually tell him to and you haven’t so.. womp womp.

Later, you’d be lying with your legs spread, letting the air cool your freshly cleaned body and sore cunt. He’d be grinning at you. Not at all sorry at your state and quite ready to worsen it. Yes, he’s addicted, and no, he can’t get enough, and yes he is a hound about it.

One thing he would LOVE though, is when you’re both in bed, and you ask him stories about some of his missions. More so, the blowing up bits. His eyes always sparkled a little when talking about it.

A cute little pyro-puppy 🥹

[s3rrrpentine]

kissy kissy for pupperoo

[lushrue]

something something johnny being a giant showoff (nsfw, 18+)

will come home all sweaty from the gym, the length of his mohawk stuck to his forehead. he doesn’t hit the showers first, though. no, he comes straight to you and shoves his fat fucking bicep in your face. “hit a new PR today, bonnie. like wha’ ya see?”

tells you all about the shit he blows up on missions. he doesn’t really care if it’s all super classified and everything, he wants you to know just how impressive your man is. gotta make sure you know you’ve got a capable defender. always makes himself sound like james bloody bond. “ya shoulda seen it! got there right in the nick o’ time, i did! and then, kaboom!”

milks as many orgasms as he can from you when you fuck. he’s not satisfied until you’ve cum on everything he can give you. tongue, fingers, cock. he wants it all, wants you to be drunk off the pleasure only he can give you. licks the tears from your cheeks when you cry from overstimulation. “i know, lass, i know. johnny’s makin’ you feel so good, aye? you got one more in there, i know you do.”

loves to hear you babble about how big and thick he is when he’s plunging deep in your cunt. he hits all the right spots, tip nudging your cervix and making your back arch. he almost loses it when you tell him how much he’s stretching you out, how you can feel him low in your belly, carving himself a nice little space in your guts. “yeah, tha’s fuckin’ right. no one else can make you feel this good, no one else can fill up this tight fuckin’ pussy like i can.”

and you let him fill you up because you know, deep down, no one will ever compare to your johnny.

[justanofficeworker]

So im not sure if i want to name my insert character for this ghoap x reader fic im writing so imma ask the people