#soap drabble

[starwovenkiss]

your boyfriend, Soap, who has a habit of tracking mud throughout the house when he comes in from his morning runs.

it’s not intentional, he doesn’t do it maliciously, but no matter how often you scrub, there’s always flecks of dirt embedded in the grout.

so you initiate a new house policy: no shoes indoors in the hopes to protect your vintage tile floors.

and when Johnny comes back from walking the dogs, he’s thoroughly entertained by the NO SHOES. KEEP MY FLOORS SEXY. sign you have posted right by the front door.

he’s always loved a woman who gives an order.

“johnny,” you warn, watching in real-time as he strips his shirt off, and tosses it at your head like he’s performing on the world’s worst stripper stage. “i said take your boots off, not your pants.”

“aye, well.” he’s already got a hand in the waistband of his briefs, winking like the devil. “since, i’m halfway there….”

you groan, loudly, as he moves closer to you with a coy look in his eye. he’s absolutely ridiculous, but he’s yours.

“floors no’ the only thing gettin’ scrubbed tonight.” you tilt your head.

“….johnny, what does that even mean?”

“dunno. off wi’ ya clothes and we’ll find out.”

[aennasan]

When you first met Johnny, you thought he was homeless and needed help. He was a big bulk of a man, hulking on the corner, dirtied from head to toe, and everyone seemed to be diverting away from where he was sat. He was a foreigner, and in this small town, everyone knew who was who. But compassion overtook you, you knew by giving him your last money, you have to suffer from hunger that day. Yet, you were positive that you will find a way or other means to earn, unlike this foreigner, to whom no one seems to even want to talk to. So with all your heart, you offered him your money. At first, he looked bewildered, shocked, and even confused. He was about to shake his head, to say no to your help, but you insisted and forced him to take it. You have been there. It was embarrassing to receive help, and you understood him. As much as possible, you act discreetly as you open his palm and give him your remaining cash.

Anyway, it didn't take long for you to find out that he was a sergeant. Part of the military who paid for your town so they can station their camp near supplies. The worst is that your cabin, in the middle of the wood, is just a few feet away from them. And Johnny made it his hobby to visit you, and remind you that he is not homeless. He sends you various gifts. From jewelry, clothes, supplies and food.

It started as him being petty because you thought of him as homeless. But as time went by, it was known by 141 that you had become a part of his routine. Meeting and talking to you completes his day.

[starsofang]

It was hard to keep up with Johnny when he wanted to take you any time, anywhere. The shower, the couch, the kitchen counter — hell, even one time in Price’s office. Something about dominance or whatever the hell that means.

You asked for one night off from his foolish antics, one night. You should’ve known Johnny would’ve convinced you otherwise, what with those pitiful eyes of his and his silly, little please, hen, just once and I won’t ask again, cross my heart.

Where the two of you were meant to meet up with his force for a sophisticated dinner, Johnny turned it into his breeding ground, located right in the back of the car. In a dingy parking lot, nonetheless.

It felt useless to complain when you were seated on his face, though.

Laid along the backseat of the car with your thighs caging his head, his hands dimpling into the fat of them to keep you still. Breathy moans being pulled out of you every time he swiped his tongue over your clit just right, or when he’d dip lower to the rings of warmth that ached to have his cock inside instead.

“Look at ye, givin’ in so easily,” he murmured against your pussy, the sensation of his lips causing you to twitch. “Can’t even resist it, can ye, love?”

You sucked in a sharp breath at the filth pouring out of him, squeezing your thighs around his head in warning. It only made him groan in satisfaction, toying with your sensitive nub with the narrow tip of his tongue as if savoring a piece of candy.

“I asked— fuck… I asked for one night, Johnny,” you attempted to say, but it came out more whiny than intended.

You could feel him grin against you, and when you tilted your chin down to look at him, you meet a heated gaze so sultry, so devilish, it nearly made you burst then and there.

“S’nothin’ wrong with bein’ fashionably late,” he grunted, pulling away briefly to get the words out. Don’t you dare think he’d stop, though. He simply replaced his tongue with his fingers, arm wrapped around your thigh to reach.

Johnny’s grin grew when your hips stuttered and began to rock, chasing the feeling of stimulation his fingers switching between your clit and stuffing themselves inside of you.

The sight of it had him cooing, eyes dropping down from your face and to your pretty pussy that glistened in the dim light of the car with your own slick.

“Johnny,” you gasped. Your hand slid down to his hair, locking your fingers into the dark strands. “We were late last time.”

Johnny’s eyes flickered to you once again. He took in the way you were coming undone. Forehead glossed over with sweat from the growing heat of the car, your tits bouncing lightly from the desperate grinding of your hips to his fingers, pupils blown out.

Johnny would be a fool to not want to have you anywhere he can. When you looked like a fucked out little angel, basking so sinfully in the greed of your pleasure?

That dinner with his force could wait centuries, for all he cared.

“Yeah?” he mocked. If you weren’t already looking at him, you knew you’d be able to hear the smile in his voice. “Then how come yer still fuckin’ yerself on my fingers, pretty girl?”

You couldn’t help but whine in frustration, eyes squeezing shut. Johnny took that opportunity to press his fingers deeper, toying with your gummy walls. Your mind short circuited and you cried out, thighs trembling around his head.

“Yeeeah, cat got yer tongue. Ain’t tha’ right?” Johnny snickered, his free hand soothing over your other thigh, kneading at the flesh.

The car was growing increasingly hot, sweat beading both of your bodies. Every rock of your hips sent the car jolting with you and Johnny’s head inches away from colliding with the door. If anyone were to drive through the empty parking lot, they’d have quite an unholy sight.

“You’re so fucking— shit, so fucking annoying,” you whined.

A sharp smack to your thigh had you letting out a mix between a yelp and a moan. The sting of it had you forcing your eyes open to look down at him to see him glaring in warning.

“Tha’ right?” Johnny hummed. He promptly took his fingers out of you, resting them on your thigh instead.

Immediately, you protested with a frown, wiggling your ass where it rested on his chest. “Johnny,” you complained. “Not fair. You have to finish what you started.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he assured. “Still care about bein’ late?”

You pouted, glowering down at him. He was teasing you, and you were hopelessly falling for it, just as you’d done every other time he got you soaked and needy in all places unthinkable. Really, the car was probably the most modest pick for the night.

“Say it,” he pushed, that cocky grin returning. “Say it and I’ll let ye cum all over my cock.”

You huffed in annoyance, narrowing your eyes down at him. It was a fight between morality, being on time to Price’s dinner request, and selfish greed, wanting to be stuffed so full of Johnny’s cock that you forgot your name.

“Fuck the dinner,” you cursed, choosing the second option. You were already scooting down where you sat so you could plop yourself right on top of his waist.

Johnny grinned bashfully, hands instantly sliding to sit on your waist. ���Atta girl,” he praised.

They knew. How could they not, when your makeup was smudged, hair clearly flattened and combed out with your fingers, and your dress a bit crooked from where it sat on your body? Not to mention the boyish glow that Johnny emitted like he was the damn sun.

“Give us a heads up next time,” Price grumbled, clearing his throat. “We can wait.”

The glare you threw at Johnny was deadly, but he only grinned back knowingly.

You could demand for just one night over and over, but you and him both knew you’d end up a moaning mess, crying his name all over again.

[spidehpig]

sleazy retired SAS now car mechanic Soap relentlessly flirting and leering at you every time you come by the shop. He’s gross and pushy, definitely a bit of a perv, but god is he so flirtatious and handsome you can’t even be bothered to push him away when he finally crowds you against the door of your own car to shove his tongue down your throat. Calloused fingers still covered in motor oil sliding past the waistband of your jeans as he kisses you with entirely too much tongue, all wet, sloppy and eager. He tastes like cigarettes and the cinnamon gum he’s always loudly smacking in your face :(

[hero-hoe]

Owner!Ghost with dogboy!Soap who gets puppygirl!Reader as a gift.

MDNI. 18+ ONLY

Hybrid au. Kidnapping tw, naive!reader, Fem!reader, handjobs (m/m). Ghost and Soap are a little off. Sadomasochism tw

Ghost who's had Soap ever since retiring being discharged due to injury and thought "fuck it, I need something to keep me busy", so he gets himself a retired dogboy. Nothing wrong with 'im, they just tend to cycle hybrids out after a few years of use. Any longer and they go a little wrong in the head. Something about their genetics and how they could get too into their tasks and needed human handlers on the outside.

Ghost is pretty sure the one he got is a little messed up anyway. Fine by him, the man had done his fair share of awful things, too far beyond being considered a good man anymore. At least having the mutt gave him purpose again, he was losing his mind trying to fit back in with polite society on his own. Johnny was Price's idea to get Simon out of his house, to take care of himself instead of wasting away in a bare bones cabin in the countryside. Take the dog on walks and all that, get a membership at one of those expensive city gyms that let hybrids in so they could both keep up on their training.

Johnny would bark his ear off about his time in the military, causing messes he never had to clean up and getting paid for it. And he didn't push when Simon said nothing about his own experience. And then they settled into a decent enough routine, too intimate to just be hybrid and handler, but Ghost wasn't a man who liked labels. They were just Johnny and Simon, that's all that mattered.

He got a good dog. Sure, he was a bit off, but nothing that couldn't be handled. He barked a lot, hated strangers, refused to sleep anywhere but Simon's room after the first few nights. And he was energetic, always bouncing off the walls or chasing down random animals in the woods. If he brought back something to snack on, Simon never minded, so long as he clean his own mess. Ghost wasn't above rubbing the dog's nose in the blood and mud puddle left on the kitchen floor. Good thing Johnny learned the first time.

It'd been a few years, Ghost hadn't bothered to keep track, but his silly pup was getting restless. Only after the third time coming home to Johnny humping himself stupid in the toy he'd gotten, teeth sunk into the pillows, did Simon finally take him to the vet. Trying to handle the situation himself hadn't helped, and he didn't like seeing his boy so miserable, even if he looked beautiful because of it. Simon swore Johnny never looked better than when he was desperate and on their sheets, fucking into a silicone pussy like his life depended on it and whimpering into a slobber covered pillowcase.

Everything was normal, the vet said, a waste of £150. It's actually a good thing, they told him, means he's healthy and happy enough to breed and is having ruts. Gave him three options: have Johnny fixed, let the mutt handle it himself every time, or get him someone to play with. Simon was offended at the idea of getting his pup snipped, immediately shutting the thought down. But he couldn't keep watching Soap sob and beg, pleading for something Simon didn't have. He held Johnny in his arms each but after that, making sure to stroke his needy pup through every orgasm needed with a hand around his neck for stability.

Johnny was a good dog, Simon relented. Never once bit without being told and made sure to moan nice and loud whenever he was hit. He deserved a treat.

So Simon did his research, went to all the shelters and breeders and even searched the parks for a new treat for his boy. Nobody was good enough, he thought, until he found you. Soft, sweet, and so, so innocent. You didn't hesitate to take his hand when he offered you a treat and some ear scratches, wandering away from your old owner and right into his truck.

You ate the special biscuits he gave you and fell asleep with a dopey smile on your face, so happy when he told you he was gonna take you home and introduce you to his puppy.

Johnny was at the door like always, waiting on his knees at the time Simon said he'd be home. He was anxious and confused today, able to smell you from outside as soon as Ghost pulled up. You smelled so good, but he hated the idea of Simon bringing another dog home. Was he not enough? He'd been so good, why would his master need another pup?

"Settle, mutt." Simon huffed as soon as he heard Johnny's whine, the hybrid kneeling obediently at the door with his ears tucked back. "Stop the damn whining. Got you somethin'." He huffed, shifting you in his arms.

Johnny scooted closer, staying on the ground and sniffing at you cautiously. One of Ghost's massive hands laced into a well maintained mohawk, tugging tight until he calmed down. The pain grounded him, a reminder that Simon was there, that he wasn't being replaced. "Fer me?" Johnny asked, taking another deep inhale along the skin of your thigh where is dangled over Simon's arm.

Ghost hummed, the sound pulling another whine from Johnny's throat. "Smells s'good." He whispered, eyes dilating as he crawled closer. "She's pure bonnie, Sir."

Straddling Simon's boot, rutting mindlessly against his shin while taking in deep huffs of your skin, Johnny couldn't wait to play with you.

[tinkertea]

i have very specific age headcanons for the 141 and yes, i would like to elaborate.

price is 42. he is not as old as everyone makes him out to be, however, the style of his facial hair, his authoritative aura and various physical ailments from previous missions age him. previous decisions weight on him but only in the privacy of his late-night office.

ghost is 38. he is often mystified by rookies, mistaken for far older due to his harsh attitude. people who work closely with him know, though. johnny first assumed he was 32. simon claims his dad jokes keep him young.

gaz is 30 (as is johnny). he's also a leo, obviously. his birthday is 29 july, making him a few months younger than johnny and also the youngest of the group. he dislikes that as it makes him feel like he doesn't get taken as seriously as the other guys. (it's not that, it's because the rookies hardly see him be as stern with them as the rest of the team. they think he is softer with them and thus, feel like they see eye-to-eye with him, not showing him the same respect as e.g. ghost)

johnny is 30, as mentioned above. his birthday is 17 april, an aries. he doesn't feel like 30, more like 22. he feels like a young man, bursting from energy and the desire to change the world. perhaps it's his adhd. he is headstrong and doesn't like being challenged by rookies. this is the military, not a playground.

[mockerycrow]

Hi! I'm such a big fan of your undercover series! Can I request a soap x reader drabble where the reader is kidnapped and is rescued or something along those lines, have fun with it! Thank you, and im excited to keep reading your fics ❤️ - H

➸ anything (soap x gn!reader)

a/n; this is slightly different than what you requested and im sorry :( i tried writing what you gave me to a T and nothing felt right. pls take this instead! it's how he feels about you and you getting kidnapped. i also really appreciate your words :') your love for undercover means a lot!!! i promise im working on part viii!!!

Johnny’s hands ached to maim and kill. They shook with anger and a deep, animalistic desire to desecrate in order to protect. He loves like a damn dog, and he’s sure as hell as loyal as one. His blood runs hot like his mouth does when he’s angry—but he has the right to be when all the proof that he has that you’re alive is a grainy photo taken on some sort of disposable camera. It’s blurry and not very good proof of life, but he can make it out that it’s you.

The picture makes his chest ache with worry and his heart burn with hate. You’re covered in filth, mostly your own blood it seems. You look off—your eyes are dull, disconnected and it fucking kills him to see. You never deserved any of this. His side aches and burns like his mind does. Johnny would do anything to get you back—and he fucking means anything. His hands are barely able to hold back crumpling up the picture between his fingers.

His knee hurts so badly; his whole body always hums with energy whenever he feels something so strongly. He’d go through Heaven and Hell to grab both God and Satan to get them to release you from wherever you are. Fucking hell, if any Gods exist at all, he’d go through every trial and challenge just get you home safe—warm and happy. 

Johnny bows his head, praying for the first time in years, his face wet like the bandage tied around his torso is.

[maryangelex]

your childhood best friend Johnny, who’s been your friend since you two were in nappies and got each other through your rather rough teen years. Johnny who joined the military fresh out of school and you thought you’d never hear from him again. but no way in hell he’d leave his best girl behind. Johnny who has stayed in contact with you in any way possible since the beginning of his military career; texts, calls, letters, postcards, anything and everything, because you’re too special for him to let go of. Johnny who moved in with you when shit got especially difficult for him, when he found himself without a family to fall back on, to come home to from deployment. all he had was you, all he needed was you. Johnny who confessed to you when you two had way too much to drink in your shared flat that he’d loved you for years. that for as long as he could remember you’ve been the only girl occupying his mind and owner of his heart; that no other woman he’s been with has come close to making him feel like you do. Johnny who took you to your bedroom in the heat of sloppy drunken kisses and fumbled to peel your clothes off, a mess of hands and tongues on each other’s skin. who laid you in your bed and fucked you, rolling his hips against yours and burying himself deep inside of you. who had you cum around him twice, three times, you couldn’t keep track that night. who slurred sweet nothings and praises and curses about how good you felt, how much he’d craved you, how much he’s needed you like this. Johnny who you woke up with the next morning and realized what a mistake you’ve made by crossing that line, and how you couldn’t risk losing him if the two of you started dating. who with a heavy heart agreed to forget it ever happened because it was too complicated and to just go back to how things were. Johnny who let you into his room every night after that when the ache between your legs was too much for you to deal with alone and reassured you that it’s “just what a good friend would do.”

[homicidal-mother]

Warnings: Dragon Hybrid!Soap, Dialogue Prompt 7, MDNI

-

For @glitterypirateduck Soap It Up challenge.

-

Puffs of golden smoke curl through the air, the wisps floating past your face as you feel the familiar large frame of Captain Mactavish hovering behind you. His hands find your shoulders- calloused fingers providing a nice and deep massage. Those little patches of scales settled in spots across his flesh, scars drawing their own unique patterns around the spots that are like his own personal shimmering armor. Close calls that set you on edge... Yet he wears the marks with a certain pride and confidence that you are jealous of.

"Good morning, sir."

"Johnny. It's Johnny to you."

You are one of very few people with the right to call him that, though sometimes you still tease the man by calling him Sir instead... Yet here you are- his most precious jewel, something he holds oh so dear.

"Alright then... Johnny."

"Aye, that's better..."

"Why do I get to call you that and not the others?"

"I am yours, bonnie."

Your heart stuttered briefly in your chest. He's yours just as much as you are his. In his eyes no amount of treasures could amount to having you, you have the right to call him 'Johnny' because your bond runs as deep as the river below the mountainside.

-

{@sofasoap @gothgirl6-6-6 @soupbinsoup @sarraa-26 @caramlizedtomatoes-deactivated2 }

[starwovenkiss]

(minor smut / suggestive content)

Frat boys, Soap and Gaz, who take an interest in the pretty TA for their econ 101 class.

The one that shows up with sweaters and jeans and glasses while marking through their tests with red pens and frustrated sighs.

Showing up to you after one class one day with mischevious grins in their matching fraternity t-shirts.

“Bonnie, y’gotta convince the professor to bump me up to an A,” Johnny pauses at this. “Or at least a C.”

You roll your eyes. “Johnny, you spelled your own name wrong on your last test.” He at least has the decency to look ashamed at this.

“What Soap is tryna say,” Kyle cuts in, smooth as ever. He really shouldn’t be here, making A's on every exam this semester, except that he’s been caught cheating and has been placed on academic probation. “is that we really think we could benefit from some tutoring. We do so much better with 1-on-1 attention.”

Both he and Johnny tilt their faces into something pouting and begging, and you want to laugh. Throw the scantrons you're grading at their muscled chests and storm out of here for wasting your time.

“Yeah, 1-on-1 would be great,” Johnny echoes, and you nearly scream.

Dealing with late nights in the library where they're more interested in getting you to go out with them then learning the diffrence between macro and microeconomics.

"So the difference between absolute advantage and -" You tense as Kyle tugs lightly on your ponytail.

"Darling, why don't you ever come to one of our parties?"

“We’re having one this Friday.” Johnny suggests, and you wonder if a part of their stupid initiation is to learn how to complete each other’s sentences like some sort of greek Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. "It’s not really my vibe,” you say, hoping that will be enough to get back to learning what GDP stands for (and not ‘great dick’n’pussy’ like Johnny suggested.)

“Aw, that’s because you’ve never been, bonnie.” Johnny fights back, and Kyle nods eagerly. “Tau Mu is everyone’s vibe.”

And to your horror, they break out into song, singing about the fraternity’s history and legacy. Your eye twitches, and you grip onto your pencil tighter to keep from sticking it in their throats.

”How about this,” you say loudly enough to cut over their caterwauling, and they smile. “if you both get an A on this next test, I will go to your party.”

They both have cheshire grins.

“Deal.” Kyle winks.

Them coming up to you on Thursday looking proud as ever when they have Canvas pulled up on their phones to show off their matching 100s.

“You guys must have cheated,” you say, dumbfounded.

“We would never.” Kyle proclaims, affronted and mocking. “’Sides, even if we did, you have no way to prove it.”

“This whole conversation incriminates you.” you say.

“Incriminates? We’re not under trial here.” Kyle laughs.

"No cheating.” Johnny promises. “It must’ve been thanks to your impressive tutelage.”

“Johnny, spell tutelage.” You deadpan.

There’s a pause. “… That doesn’t matter. We’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiles brightly.

“Make sure to wear red.” Kyle adds on before they both walk out of the classroom.

You showing up to their party, looking like you don’t want to be there and definitely not in red, only to find out it’s a stoplight party, and red screams that you’re taken.

Both of them in their element, shirtless and streaked in red black light paint, as they jump around and body surf in neon sunglasses before seeing you disappointed.

“Bonnie, why aren’t you wearing red?” Johnny asks.

"Johnny, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“So, what do you call all of those late nights in the library?” Kyle asks, putting an arm around you as he leads you to get jungle juice.

“Tutoring. To help get both your GPAs above a 2.5,” You reply.

“Sounds like foreplay to me.” Johnny smiles down at you while wrapping an arm around your waist, and suddenly you feel flustered by the two attractive men who seem enamored with you.

You pick up a solo cup as a distraction and notice that it has “You’re Hell” written on it. “Who wrote this? There’s a typo.”

They both groan, “We were trying to be clever.” Johnny replies.

“You need to relax, darling. Can’t be good for you to be so uptight all the time.” Kyle responds moving to rub your shoulders.

“Yeah, Gaz.” Johnny smiles at him, and suddenly you feel like you’ve walked into some trap. “Relaxing would be good for the lass.”

Finding yourself upstairs in a private bedroom, naked, sprawled out in Kyle’s lap as he holds your legs open for Johnny to examine you.

“Think it’s time we teach her a thing or two, right, Soap?” Kyle whispers, voice low like honey in your ear and you shiver.

“See how well we can make the teacher’s pet behave.” Johnny responds as he grins like the devil, breath tickling your fluttering cunt.

“Bet she’s never had this pretty pussy licked before.” Kyle snickers, and you finally feel the need to speak up.

“Yes, I have. I’m not a prude.” You whine, and you feel like the pastel pink underwear with a tiny bow that Johnny has stuffed in his pocket isn’t doing you any favors.

“Aye, well. Not like this.” Johnny replies before licking into you like a man starved.

[aennasan]

Soap forgetting to buy you a Christmas present and so during opening the presents, he asked you to close your eyes and wait for his "gift".

Turns out his gift was just him wearing nothing but a red bow.

The surprise would have worked if you didn't laugh and asked him again, "Seriously, Soap, where is my gift?". After all, you went to a lot of trouble finding his.

Let's just say someone slept on the couch throughout the night. Bothering 141 through a video call on how to make it up to you before you wake up.

[starsofang]

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon, Johnny. Please? Halloween only comes once a year.”

Johnny eyed you suspiciously, taking in the request you’d laid out on him, which in retrospect, was something he wouldn’t normally deny—he was a kinky guy. But wearing a mask to fuck you, when you could just look at him the whole time instead? Nuh-uh.

“Is this one of yer book things?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

You frowned at him, darting your eyes away. “No.”

“It totally is.”

“Okay, yes, it is, but I think it’d be hot! You don’t?” you tried once more, pleading.

Johnny snorted, shaking his head. “What’s not to enjoy about my face?”

“Your face is wonderful, Johnny.”

“…But?”

“You in a mask is sexy.”

Johnny groaned, throwing his head back and blinking up at the ceiling.

Really, the idea was growing on him. A mask, yeah, he could do that for you—might even find it hotter than he thought—but the deep rooted thought of a familiar mask popped up in the midst of it, tainting his mind.

He rolled his head lazily to look at you, narrowing in on the pout on your lips. It was always hard for him to deny you, especially anything sex-related you wanted to try. Hell, he was practically like a dog being thrown a bone at the opportunity.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he murmured, a sadistic grin curling on his face.

It was your turn to stare suspiciously, slowly deflating from your previous excitement and dying down to a curious hesitation. “That’s never good,” you muttered.

“Mm. I think ye might like it,” he replied cheekily, taking a step closer to you. His arm slipped easily around your waist to rest on your back, tugging you into his warmth. “Ye remember Ghost, don’t ye?”

“Ghost?” you breathed, shivering when you felt his lips tickle your ear and drift down to your neck. He hummed against your skin.

He wasn’t serious, right?

He was incredibly serious, unfortunately.

“Happy Halloween, love.”

You could barely peel your eyes open to look at Ghost, only humming a noise of acknowledgment as he got up to leave, Johnny walking him out.

As for you, you were suffering the severe consequences of their bound agreement, body limp and sedated in the comfort of your blankets that Johnny gifted you to boost the ‘Halloween spirit.’

Johnny gave you what you asked for with little struggle, granting you the sweet taste of fucking with a mask on. Ghost was there for encouragement, pulling out his old, trusty mask and sliding it on just for you.

Fucking into you until you were a weeping, blabbering mess to a masked Johnny wasn’t what you pictured when you initially asked the Scot about your fantasy, but all hesitation was quickly snipped from your mind the moment you got a sample of both of them, their eyes peering down at you like you were prey from the narrow slits of the holes cut out for their vision leaving you begging for more.

“Maybe for Christmas, we could be Santa and ye could be our li’l elf,” Johnny teased when he returned, sliding into bed. “‘Tis the gift of givin’ soon, aye?”

He only snickered loudly when that earned a sharp kick from you, hunkering down into bed on Hallow’s night, murmuring about how he wasn’t kiddin’. They definitely could, if ye want.

[spidehpig]

can’t stop thinking about soap being the kind of boyfriend that takes you on arcade or carnival dates. he definitely takes all of the games WAY too seriously. absolutely smokes everyone at skeeball. probably does those stupid punching bag/hammer strength tests just to show off in front of you. he doesn’t even let you win he’s that competitive. but it’s kinda funny and endearing. he wins a TON of tickets and then gets you the biggest fucking stuffed animal they have even as you protest and tell him that you have no place to put it.

his little mohawk popping around the head of the giant puppy stuffed animal he won you boyish smile plastered on his face while he ignores your protests. you’re stuck with the thing forever now.

[hero-hoe]

For the #1 Captain MacTavish enthusiast @brewed-pangolin after talking about that bubble butt 🥵🥵 I had a brain worm

MDNI 18+ ONLY. Vague smut, marriage kink, body and chest hair worship. PiV. Fem!Reader.

Captain John MacTavish who knows exactly what his body looks like, heavy muscles with a healthy layer of fat and even warmer layer of hair all over his body. The man is damn near furry, and he knows exactly how it makes you feel. You, the bonnie lass he met after retirement who he immediately had to wife up.

You, the sweet little thing he loves waking up to long after sunrise on lazy Sunday mornings Cuddled together in bed with you wearing his shirt, your soft thighs thrown over his thick ones, knees cradling his defined waist. One hand behind his head, tucked up under the pillow for extra comfort while the other guides your rocking hips. Letting your delicate hands grope at his chest, knowing you love his "hairy tits" as you once called them.

"That's it, hen. Doin' so good fer me." He groaned, eyes half lidded yet so full of love as he watched you grind yourself on his shaft so lazily. You'd both been at it all morning, the dark brown hair of his thighs now slicked to his skin with your juices. He loved seeing himself covered in you nearly as much as you loved toying with his hair.

Your deft fingers were carded under the loosely curled hairs on his chest, groping at his pecs for balance with every motion, tugging on the pelt of your warrior.

"Atta girl. Can feel ye gettin' close again." The hand comes out from behind his head, moving to cradle yours instead and push your face into his chest. A low moan left his throat when your teeth bit into his flesh, just hard enough to leave an indentation on the side of his breast. "C'mon, lass, be jus' let go fer me." He insists, moaning as you tug the hair on his chest once again in desperation. "Shh, ah ken is a lot, hen, but ma wife can take it, yeh? Ma perfect girl can give me one more."

He finished after you did, a few lazy bucks of his hips into your wet warmth while you bit and drooled into his chest, making a mess of the hair you had so neatly finger combed earlier that morning. He kept you on his lap once you were both done, reaching onto the nightstand for the water bottle you had left on his nightstand and encouraging you to drink.

A scarred hand smoothed down his frazzled chest hair once you were both adequately hydrated, letting out a disapproving tut. "Look at the mess ye made, love. Ma gorgeous wife had me all groomed and ready, and ye fuffed it up. How about ye fix that, hmm?" He teased, knowing just how much you loved getting his hair in order. Be that his mohawk, now musch longer than it was in his service days, or the hair adorning every inch of his powerful body.

Your fingers worked with expert care, straightening out the tangles you had made, arranging the hair of his chest to point inward and downwards towards his stomach. You smoothed out what you could of his comfort-softened tummy, but his grip on your waist wouldn't let you go far enough to reach below his navel.

"Much better, love. Ah'm lucky to have such a caring wife, no?"

[inwhosereverie]

imagine how johnny would react to the way you smell when you have already flooded his mind. how you have completely altered his perceptions of a certain smell because they had caught a whiff of: maybe the shampoo you used, or the soap you had bathed yourself in, any smell that radiates from you. your cologne. The way it fits you so well.

how that specific perfume, shampoo, or soap would just be a reminder of you, and just you and would be owned by you.. whether his nose have caught that familiarity in public even if he wasn’t with you the first thing that would pop into his head is that it’s your scent.

the way he would snake a hand down your stomach to pull you from behind, your back against his chest, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck, softly inhaling the fragrance you use. “smell so good..” he’d utter whilst showering your neck with loving pecks.

“fuck, aren’t ye just addictin’?”

[shanakin-skywalker]

Not-So-Dry Mouth

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x f!reader - 18+ MDNI!!! -

I feel like Soap would get a hold of those mints that increase saliva production and he would just pour the entire tin into his mouth because he is obsessed with making you dripping wet, sloppy, and messy when he eats your pretty cunt.