#sofasoap drabbles

[sofasoap]

Pick up lines

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader

Side of Simon Riley x Mini MacTavish

Summary: Cringy pick-up lines by Johnny Soap MacTavish. Lamest of the Lamest.

Warning: CRACK FIC. don't take it so seriously. Mature theme, innuendos. swearing, alcohol use.

A/N: Well, I blame @captainsy-cookiemonster for making me snort with laughter at 11 at night, and @deadbranch adding fuel to the fire from this POST by @captainsy-cookiemonster

Masterlist

"You look like you could use a spa day..."

“What????”  You can just see Gaz cackling himself in the background, knowing what is to come.  OH these boys are up to something.

“Fucking hell MacTavish, that is the worst pick up line I ever heard.” Simon grunted with a hint of amusement. 

“You know, with this luxury cream soap,” He smirks as he pointed towards his crotch,

“Comes from the lower highland area of Scotland, limited edition you cannot get elsewhere, I can guarantee you a smooth sensual experience.”

The cashew nut you just popped into your mouth rolled out onto the table as your jaw dropped open. You hear an unladylike snort, followed by howling laughter coming from Mini before she hides her face into Simon’s chest, trying and failing to contain herself. 

“But it’s working, right Bonnie?” Soap winked at you.

“No.” 

“No?” He pouted. “So you're not coming home with me tonight?”

“John MacTavish, We live in the same house.” you replied with a deadpan expression. “Go flirt somewhere else.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to give it a test drive for free..” Soap was interrupted by Mini slapping her brother’s head,

“Haud yer wheesht!” “That’ll do MacTavish.”  Simon stood up and picked Soap up by the collar and half lifted him back to the dart board where Gaz is still bending over, wheezing from laughter. 

“These boys…” Mini let out a sigh as her eyes followed Simon’s movement, “Being in the military seriously impairs these boys’ way of flirting.” Popping some mixed nuts into her mouth, “Simon tried to compare himself to a cuddly teddy bear, and König, his was just too rude to repeat, I don’t know how his partner fell for it.” 

“You got to admit, it’s so lame it’s good.” You hide your smile as you take a sip of beer. As cringey and lame Soap’s attempt to flirt with you ( you are sure he only did it as he lost a bet with Gaz,) you kind of like it. 

“Not my brother’s. Oh heaven, It’s going to give me nightmares and images for days thinking about it.” 

“Would you like to try milking some highland cattle…”

“Go to BED JOHNNY.”

@cumikering 

@groguspicklejar

@floral-force

@homicidal-slvt

@jynxmirage

[brewed-pangolin]

Thank you, sir. Yes, ma'am

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+MDNI Sexual Themes

Soap MacTavish is, above everything else, a gentleman.

He holds the door open for you, makes you dinner when you've had a hard day.

Let's you handle the finances and own the home you share because he's comfortable in his own masculinity to let the woman run the household (man exudes feminist appreciation, c'mon).

And he respects you. More than any human being ever has. And you can't help but show your admiration for his gratitude every once in a while.

But please, for the love of God, do NOT refer to him as 'Sir' when he's on leave. Especially when you're out in public.

He doesn't find it offensive or as a constant reminder of the world of responsibility he has to return to.

In fact, it's quite the opposite.

That single term of authority, uttered so sweetly from that pretty little mouth of yours, causes his brain to misfire and can't help the unbridled urge to fuck you right then and there.

If you're enjoying a night out, and you call him 'Sir' after giving him thanks for opening the door for you, expect to be pulled into the nearest alleyway, dress hiked up above your hips and one leg draped over his shoulder as he devours your cunt like a feverishly starved madman.

Or, say he paid for dinner because you paid for the previous. And to show your gratitude, you gently lean over the table, batting your eyes and give him a gentle kiss. Only to whisper, oh so lovingly, 'thank you, sir' against his lips.

If you do so happen to make it back to his 4Runner, you'll be shoved in unceremoniously into the backseat with greedy hands, tearing your clothes away while his lips show their appreciation by hungrily encapsulating over your mouth. Only to be contorted into an incomprehensible pretzel as he shows you just how much he loves you by mindlessly fucking you into oblivion.

And that's just the setup for the main event to when you do finally get back home. Behind closed doors and in the comfort of his own walls is where Soap truly shines with his kinky fuckery. Bending you over any flat surface within arms reach, pressing you up against every wall to get a few quick pumps of his cock deep into your needy little pussy until it all culminates with you both fucking like animals on your bed.

By the end, you will both be completely overstimulated and spent. Splayed out over top the mattress, limbs entangled and drenched in sweat as you both come down from your umpteenth orgasm.

"Thank you, Sir." You praise in a drained and muffled whisper, eyes glazed with an overly confident expression curling into your eyes as you gaze upon his sweat glistened and heaving chest.

And Soap's response is exactly what you'd expect from a gentleman such as himself. Breathless, and breathtaking.

"Yes, ma'am."

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @writeforfandoms @simpingoverquestionablemen @haurasha @ang3lc @thetrashpossum @kkaaaagt @luismickydees @designateddeadend

[homicidal-slvt]

Valentine's Day Drabbles

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MDNI

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141 x F!Reader

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Warnings: Fluff, Slightly Sad

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[Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick]

There's several letters scattered across your desk, some of them covered in that familiar scent- cologne lingering on the paper. He of course did it on purpose... Knowing how much you loved his scent, how you always claimed he smelled like home. It reminds you of the many times he asked you to come with him to help pick out colognes, wanting you to choose whatever you thought would suit him... Truthfully though- he just enjoyed spending time with you and bathed in your attention, enjoying how you'd breathe in so deeply once embraced in his arms.

"I'm sorry I can't be there for Valentine's Day, Strawberry. I'll be sure to make it up to you, that's a promise."

[Simon 'Ghost' Riley]

You've re-read these letters many times... They suddenly stopped coming and it had you terrified. What happened? Is he okay? You recklessly stuffed the papers back into the drawer on your desk and suddenly- a knock snaps you out of your thoughts.

"It's me, love..."

Yanking the door open you're greeted by your sweet Simon, flowers and chocolates in hand- a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"Couldn't let my missus spend Valentine's alone, could I? M'sorry for the wait."

[John 'Soap' Mactavish]

Johnny would send you letters absolutely filled to the brim with doodles, occasionally detailed art as well. Silly stories were shared accompanied with scribbled smiley faces, he adored hearing back from you and got ecstatic if you'd return the favor with doodles of your own... Your home feels pretty empty lately without his chatter, your fingers carefully opening the most recent letter.

"Wanted to give this to you in person but since I'm not able to... Happy Valentine's Day, Bonnie."

It's a beautiful drawing of you from the first time he met you... There looking out at the vast sea.

[Captain John Price]

You had so many letters you didn't know what to do with them all, it was romantic though... It also of course gave you some peace of mind- a reminder that he was still okay. That he'd be coming home to you soon enough... Today had proven stressful and you found yourself wishing John was here, slipping your key into the lock and with a subtle click you entered your house....

Rose petals everywhere- candles lit on the dining room table.

"Wanted to surprise you. We have a lot of catching up to do, yeah? Happy Valentine's Day, Dove."

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

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{More Content}

[nrdmssgs]

A heart full of pity (part 3)

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

Part 4 (final)

Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Cruelty leads to cruelty. This circle is difficult to break apart, sometimes it ends up breeding monsters, chimeras. But if one participant finds the strength to show compassion: there is hope for everyone.

TW: Mention of scars left by an injury (burns). Swearing. Thanks: @homicidal-slvt opened this portal for me and helped me share something very personal. I can never thank her enough. Check out her absolutely beautiful Nik drabble. @sofasoap created Lastochka series and got me absolutely enamored by a character I, could barely stand before. This is the real power of writing. And my dear @gamergirlbones who woke up one morning and decided to be the best, most supporting and encouraging person out there.

Authors note: Guys, Im sorry, I have to split ending in 2 parts! But I will post both right away.

Others slowly but surely noticed the changes. Of course Price was the first one, when he saw, how careful was Nik while helping her out of the car. Their debriefing was short. The documents that they brought back from the mission spoke for themselves: 141 got into a big fight, which they knew very little about before. 

“How are you?” Price skimmed through the papers and looked up at her. She glanced warily at Nik, but he was clearly not going to interfere in the conversation. “I'm going to be fine, captain.” 

“Yeah, so why every time I hear that, we are talking major injuries in the tf?..” Price muttered under his breath, giving one final look at the documents. “Nikolai, a friendly favor: take this one to the hospital right now and make sure she doesn't exit it the next minute you turn away.” Captain stopped them at the door of his office, calling her name. "Impressive work out there. Keep it this way."

For a while they drove along the night country roads in silence. Both were lost in their own thoughts. Outside the car was pitch darkness and only rare pointers reflected the headlights. “I think Price hates, how I executed the whole thing.” She almost didn't expect Nik to answer - just wanted to say out loud, what was on her mind. “How we executed it. And the last time I checked, he called our work impressive.” He pats her shoulder, not looking away from the road. 

“That's the thing. You ever heard him calling anybodys` performance impressive? Clean, effective, messy - yes, he uses that. But “impressive”? I worked with the man for many years, and I hear it for the first time.” She's clearly venting, and Nik just lets her go, comforting her with his hand on her shoulder.

***

The first time she reunited with others from 141 was weeks later, when she was out of the hospital, and others from the task force came back from yet another mission. Their plane was descending on the landing strip. 

Gaz notices her sitting on the ground near hangars, her arms buried up to the elbows in the open belly of Nik's helicopter. He nudges Ghost and nods at the porthole. "World War III begins in 3...2...1..." Ghost eyes her for a moment, then looks to the far hanger, from which Nikolai emerges. “I'm not standing between those two, when they're on each others` throats,” Simons` voice is muffled, but he is clearly not amused by what might happen, when two of his colleagues might start a full-blown fight over that helicopter.

"My twenty says that they will now peacefully dig under the hood of a copter side by side." Price suddenly intervenes in their conversation.

“Thirty and you deal with them if there's blood,” answers Gaz.

When they finally land and exit the plane, Nik sits beside and helps her, explaining something, pointing to a few spots on the helicopter and giving her a reassuring firm grasp on the shoulder. “What the hell just happened?” Gas is utterly confused.

"I just made 60 pounds - that's what happened." Price has the most cocky and satisfied grin, a man could ever master. “I didn't bet,” mutters Ghost.

***

Since then, she and Nik are often spotted together. Sometimes they are working in one of the hangars on Nikolais` bird, sometimes they just sit on the steps next to the barracks and chat. Sometimes he grins, leans closer to her ear and quietly says something in Russian, and she bursts out with laughter. They develop inner jokes, they are unable to explain to others, little gestures of care, reserved only for each other. But most importantly: the tension that appeared earlier in any room where they were forced to be together disappears.

She still can't participate in the operations, since they grew much more heated. So all she is left is to sit in the office, doing paperwork and greet others after missions. And of course, there are hospital visits. Her least favorite part, because she is so eager to be back in the game, to fight along them. And instead, she gets check up after minor operation after check up after yet another operation. Nik tries to make it better, cheering her up, saying his ‘do svidaniya*’ and furtively stuffing sweets into her jacket pockets so that the hospital diet doesn't finish her off. He finds himself missing their chats, when they are apart, so he makes sure to write her time to time. Usually she gets just a nice encouraging message, something like “You survived soviet medicine*, at this point you're gonna make through anything, little one”. But sometimes Nikolai lets himself be more sincere. “The base looks empty without you.”

“I've left just a day ago. It's your way to say, you miss me?”

“That… And I may or may not look for anybody, who could give me an alibi, while I talk to one particular Sergeant, that got way too creative with customizing his seat in my heli.”

“... Nik, radi vsego svyatogo, ostav` vospitanie Maktavisha ego kapitanu*.”

When Nikolai leaves 141 for a long time for private business - something changes. It doesn't happen overnight: she just gradually starts responding to his messages more rarely. Although he knows, there may be many simple reasons for that - he can't help, but worry. Nik knows he can always make a call, and of course Price would alert him immediately if anything serious happened. But his gut tells him that something is wrong, way worse than “she slipped back into ‘oh he is a bad mean FSB-guy, i'll ignore him’ paranoia”. 

***

So naturally, the first place he visits back in the UK base is Prices` office. After talking business, Nikolai asks captain, how is she. “I was hoping, you'd tell me…” Prices` face darkens by a scowl while he is rummaging through a pile of papers. Finally, a document falls on the table in front of Nik's face. Letter of resignation, signed by her. “Don't worry, I'm not certifying anything, until she uses our insurance to a full advantage. This may take months. But it's the least I can do.” “She's here?” Nikolai slowly lifts his gaze from her letter. “No, she has another screening session in the hospital. Rents a tiny apartment, so that she doesn't have to lie in a hospital bed all day. Think, I've had her address somewhere.”

Nik tries to not break speed limits, he really does. But a rage, rising somewhere deep inside his chest, doesn't help. He is angry at himself for being so ignorant, for not noticing that passion in her eyes burning out. How many times he witnessed her volunteering for a mission and Price turning her down, because he couldn't risk her? And that was before he left, so he doesn't know, how many more times she met that wall with her forehead. He left her alone at the exact moment, she needed him the most. Arriving at the house where she temporarily rented an apartment, Nikolai forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down.

She quickly answers the knock on the door. Despite the hot summer evening, she wrapped herself in a huge sweatshirt. First, she looks at Nik incomprehensibly, as if she did not recognize him. But then she shakes her head and speaks jazzily. "Hey, what are you doing here? Come in, I was just thinking about you!" “Considering the late hour, I hope, your thoughts were sinful.” Nikolai chuckles, letting her drag him in the apartment, but almost stumbles, when she plainly answers him. “Well, actually yes.” As he follows her to a compact kitchenette, she adds, “I was about to indulge in the sin of gluttony and was trying to remember how you prepared that thing on a mission ... Great, I even forgot the name of it.”  

He softly pushes her away from the stove and looks at the set of groceries. "I might just have an idea, what you had on your mind. Go sit, I'll figure out your ‘thing’, little one." Before she goes, Nik feels her hands clasping around his chest in a short, tight hug. “Spasibo, chto navestil. Ya tak po vsem vam skuchaiu, ti ne predstavlyaesh*.” She is so lively and bubbly in comparison to the last time, he saw her, it's almost easy to decide, she is happy. But Nikolai feels, she is not relaxed. Her smiles, jokes and touches - everything feels like a facade, hiding something. 

He is patient though: he cooks and shares diner with her, then tells her about the places he went to, some people he met. It's only when she yawns and stretches, he finally asks her. “So, what are your plans for the future?”

She frowns, smile still plastered to her face, yet eyes growing cold. “Price told you?” 

“Don't be mad at him. I'd find out one way or another. Captain just saved us time. And by no means I came here to lecture you. It's your life, your decisions. All I wanted to know is why and what's next.” Nikolai speaks in a friendly tone, easing her into conversation. 

She brushes the crumbs off the table and sits beside him. “Why? Because for years I've begged Price to accept me to the team. For years, Nikolai! While the rest of his crew got invitations from him, I climbed up the walls so that he would notice me. It means, Price was doubting me, but still gave me a chance. All I had to do is to prove myself worthy of his trust. And instead I throw a tantrum, refusing to work with you, then I almost go KIA. And after that I, a proud member of the 141, start a freaking street riot, even though I know very well that Price and the others always work nice and quiet!” She squeezes and spits the words out of her throat, trying to not raise her voice. “All I did for the last few months - I costed Price a great deal of money. I do nothing. Moving papers along his desk doesn't count, you could teach a goat to do that. This is not the way you thank someone, who gave you the chance of your life.” Niks eyes are glued to her face. He doesn't interrupt, although he disagrees with her. He just lets her share this pain. When she goes silent, he rubs her back. “Looks, like the Captain is your hero of a sort…” 

She hides her gaze somewhere between a countertop and a wall. “What, you want to get jealous now?” “My plans, my dear, never included becoming your idol or role model.” His breath rolls hot just above a tip of her ear. “You know, I have another perspective on your situation. With all your respect, I've been working with the Captain long before you met him. And let me tell you one thing: Price picks his men very carefully. But if he lets you in: he won't turn you down ever. You are in 141 till the end, you like it or not.” She turns to him, but Nikolai doesn't let her question him further on the topic of Prices` personal traits. As a professional negotiator, he understands, that the only way, he may get the answers, he needs, is to push for them right now. “Now, to the part, I'm most interested in: your plans.” She goes silent, trying to come with anything. After an obviously too long pause, she finally confesses. “Nikolai, there are… no specific plans. I just get out of military, find some place to work… I don't know, maybe someone looks for a personal assistant or a secretary.” “A personal assistant to help you sort through your paperwork and take your business partner hostage if the meeting don't go according to plan? Sounds like a great CV."

"Stop scoffing!" She slams her palms loudly on the tabletop. "What do you want from me? I have enough self-respect to stop feeding of Prices mercy, since I let him down. I'm just trying to figure out my life without 141. Or are you suggesting that I put on a mask on my face, take an edgy call sign like "phoenix" and go solo to get revenge on all my offenders? Don't be ridiculous, I'm too old for that sketchy shit!”

Nik looks absolutely unbothered, he gives her time to hear and analyze her own words and tone. Only when a guilty blush appears on her cheeks, he answers. “Someone's got teeth, I see. But you can't just drop something like that and pretend, you don't know, John Price took this guy, who was believed to be absolutely uncooperative. When they started working together, no one even heard a name ‘Ghost’.” 

“Don't compare us. With his skills, Simon Riley can overthrow a few governments a week and Price would still want to keep him. Gods, anyone on Prices place would frankly want the same. Lt is on another level, and it's too late for me to even try to get there.”  She holds her open palms up in a gesture of conciliation. “Look, Nikolai, I`m sorry. I hate it more, than anyone of you guys, but this just has to be done. I will not drag the whole team to the bottom, I will leave quietly, no drama. I promise we'll all meet in a pub sometime in a few years and have nothing, but laughs about the times I pretended to be a soldier."

“Little one, maybe you can manage to escape Price, but I'm not letting you anywhere that easily. What you need is not jolly reunions on a grave of your career - you need… Oh, and I just might be able to provide it…”  She doesn't like the smile with which Nik says it, but she doesn't have time to get a word in before he gets up and walks out into the hallway. "How much longer might they need to screen you? A couple of days?" She jumps up and hurries after him. "Yeah, I guess. Wait, what are you even talking about?"

Nikolai stops at the door. "I'm talking about a little break. You can think of it like a vacation. I'll pick you up in 2 days."

“Remind me, what state of mind I was in, when I agreed to this?” She flicks through the magazine in annoyance, as if such an action might magically reveal anything other than a couple of uninteresting travel articles and a list of duty-free goods.

“I'm a charmer, and you just can't say no to me.” Nikolai purrs, leaning back in his seat. “Are that the same words, you marched with in Prices` office, when you convinced him to let me with you?” She looks him up and down and takes her plastic cup of water.

“Getting jealous? Don't worry, you are my only one. Besides, what happens in the Caps office - stays there.” For the next 10 minutes straight she fights for her life, choking on a water, she was drinking. It looks like anything but a vacation. They move from city to city, attend meetings where Nikolai negotiates, argues, trades in several languages simultaneously. She is left to silently sit in the far corner and make a stern face, because Nikolai for some reason introduces her as his business partner. In fact, she has no idea what these meetings are about. Knowing Nik, these could be harmless contracts, or they could be deals for the resale of weapons of mass destruction. This is more interesting than loitering around the base or sitting in line at the hospital. But every day she gets more and more nervous. Nikolai promises her that he will need her help soon, but the next day comes, and she still silently follows him, wrapping herself in thick warm shirts and cursing the scorching sun.

One morning, when she is already beginning to confuse where they were yesterday and where they got last night, he stops their car by an old unkempt park overgrown with wild grass and low sparse shrubs. “The stage is yours now: this meeting is on you. We either get this contract or not.” Nikolai opens the door and holds out his hand to her, helping her out of the car. "What!? What meeting, what kind of ‘we’, what contract? Nikolai, you're out of your mind, I don't understand what's going on here at all!" She yanks her hand out of his with force and presses her back into the car seat.

“The kind of ‘we’, that starts with you and me. Now come on, we don't want to make our client wait. You can always turn the deal down if you don't feel, you can do it.” She is amazed at this incredible ability of him to give detailed answers that somehow do not carry any information. But now there was not the right time to appreciate his many talents, as she saw a lone figure standing beside an old tree. As they approached ‘the client’ Nik introduced them. “Farah, this is the one, I was talking about. She is the best, I could ever offer for your task.” He turns and goes on. “This is Farah, a dear friend…” “No, Nik, that is not the way you introduce the Farah Karim.” She looks down on a woman, she heard so much about and never even dreamt to met. “You know me?” Farah eyes widen in surprise. “Had a pleasure to work with mister Keller on one of our missions. Safe to say, I know you better than him after all his stories.” She speaks to Farah in a completely different voice: soft and caring. Convinced that they got along well and fast, Nikolai backs off and lets them talk things over in private. 

She and Farah wander together along old paths covered with layers of dry grass. At first, they do not even discuss future objectives, but simply talk about life, get to know each other. But then she asks Farah ‘why not Price or Alex? Why me?’. “Nikolai said, he'd trust you with his life. And Price and Alex are exceptionally good, but… we are talking your territory here.” Farahs` gaze darkens, becomes heavy.

“My territory? You need to extract someone or something from Russia? I guess, Nik didn't tell you, It's a long time I haven't visited my home country?” She understands, this confession might cost Nik his contract, but she could never lie to such a client. But when Farah starts explaining the whole situation, lays out a map of her hometown on an old bench and traces a large area with her fingers with the words "the man, we are looking for… we got his phone ping from this area", her face changes. She takes Farahs` hand and moves it a good 10 centimeters left. “Here. If he is valuable to Russian superiors, they'll keep him here.” After that moment there is no way back, as she understands, that she's going to find the man, Farah needs, at any cost. That insect thought, he could hide in Russia. Well, he should have thought better. 

When she comes back to their car, Nik asks, how it went. “Looks like you and I have a work to do.” He smiles to himself: everything is going just as planned. *** “Just of interest: is it Farah or specifics of the task, that got your attention?” Niks` voice wakes her from a peaceful slumber, when they arrive to an airport. “Well, it turns out, you are not the only charmer, I can't say no to.” Her answer is vague, but Nikolai doesn't mind: in her place, he would rush to help Farah as eagerly as she did. At the check-in desk, they are given tickets to seats at opposite ends of the plane. Nik is about to move on when suddenly she grabs his arm, pulls him closer and presses her soft lips against his cheek. He freezes for a moment and looks from her to the airport employee. "After this flight, I will have to part with him for several months. Can we sit next to each other? I cherish every second i'm close to him. Please!” She coaxes the employee behind the counter with the most innocent look and gentle cooing voice. Nik doesn't hesitate to play along: he hides his smirk, burying his face in her hair and embraces her with all care and tenderness, he could demonstrate. When they walk away with new tickets, he leans in and whispers. “Oh, what a drama, ‘my love’. Don't know, how will you make it through several months without my loving hands.” She grins. “Ok, Nikolai, next time I'll be straight and admit, that I have a kidnapping to discuss with my business-partner.” “I'm not discussing work with you on that plane. I have a poor girl to comfort as she is about to part her ways with me, remember? What a lover would I be to trade that for your boring planing?” “And what for did I play out this tragedy there at the registration in the first place? For you to ignore me?” She stops with a bewildered look.

“Never said, I'd ignore you - I just won't talk business.” He gently pushes her forward to their gate. “As for your reasoning? Don't know, maybe you're aiming for BAFTA award, maybe you're developing separation anxiety…” As they board the plane, she catches herself thinking that she has lost count of their flights and moves over the past week and a half. But she finally feels alive, and it's worth every time he woke her up before dawn, every meeting where she just propped herself up against a wall, every half-joking half-flirting that Nik allowed himself to confuse her more and more. “One question.” Nikolai hears that and turns away immediately, but she doesn't surrender. “Just one, I promise. And after that you are free to go comfort whoever you want. Funding. If you want me to get in this fight - tell me, what we have.” Instead of answering, he pulls out a heavy folder and places it on her lap. There is a small inscription on the first sheet in the corner. "Project C". She flips through the pages and her hands go cold. At first glance, the folder is filled with accounting records, financial plans, personal profiles, and some dry statistics. But she had seen similar documents before when Laswell visited their base.

"Nikolai, I needed a pair of good men, maybe some techs and wheels, and this is a full private military..." “It's just a club for friends.” He cuts her off, brushing hair from her face. “But you could help me to grow it into something big and beautiful. That is, of course, if you don't change your mind about quitting 141.” Suddenly everything Nik has done for the past weeks starts making sense. All those meetings, he dragged her in - it was business pitches, where he not only discussed his plans, but also showed off his partner, demonstrating, that his organization is being approved by the famed Prices` TF. Even Farahs` contract now looks suspiciously lucrative for Nikolai: the perfect "trial run" mission. By no means was it a vacation: Nik just hunted for a new team member. For the rest of the flight, she doesn't let go of the folder and reads sheet by sheet without missing a single digit. 

*do svidaniya (here and below Russian) - Goodbye.

*soviet medicine - Russians sometime refer to any medical procedures or Russian medicament as to "soviet" hinting that their quality has not improved since the days of the Soviet Union. So here Nik is just saying, she is a tough one and will overcome everything.

*Nik, radi vsego svyatogo, ostav vospitanie Maktavisha ego kapitanu - Nik, for heaven's sake, leave Mactavishes upbringing to his captain.

*Spasibo, chto navestil. Ya tak po vsem vam skuchaiu, ti ne predstavlyaesh - Thank you for visiting. I miss you all so much, you have no idea.

[cersei-the-truth-bombardier]

sofasoap replied to your post “so uh I’m feeling like writing some real short little drabbles today...”

Prompt : summer storm

Sigrid pulled at the hem of her bodice, trying to get some air to flow underneath it. What little she accomplished only drew her attention to the dampness of her chemise below. She was sweating right through the cotton. More than anything she wished for her old waist-cincher and vest, but it seemed the days of comfortable clothes were behind her now. She didn’t have anything like that anymore, only stiff-boned bodices and layers of skirt. 

Prince Fili stood beside her in the prairie grass silently, waiting for her to speak. The moments stretched between them, sticky like taffy, and his patience unnerved her. She had been calm, she had collected herself, and now that he’d caught up with her all that rage burned through her veins again.

“Why are you here?” she demanded finally.

“I could ask you the same,” he answered. His voice and his gaze were even, and Sigrid wondered if he’d had to practice that in Prince Classes or whatever it was you did when you knew your whole life you were royalty. It disgusted her. How could he be calm at a time like this?

“I asked you first.” Even as she said it, she hated the petulance that tinged her voice.

He looked away for the briefest moment, then met her gaze again. “I came out here to find you. To apologize to you. You should have heard it from me.” “Should have heard? Should have heard?!” Sigrid spat, blood boiling. “If I’m going to marry someone I should be consulted, not alerted! You knew about this, you planned this with them, and you never saw fit to bring me to the table too?”

“Sigrid, I’m sorry,” Fili said. He took a step closer and Sigrid could see beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead despite the much-cooler, simpler trousers and shirt he wore. In fact he hardly looked like a prince at all just now. “It all happened so fast, there was no p--”

A gust of wind cut him off. It was cooler than Sigrid expected, and as she pulled pieces of hair from her mouth she looked back in the direction from which it came. Dark clouds were rolling in, and goosebumps rose on her arms when she smelled it. Rain was coming.

“I don’t trust those clouds and I don’t trust you,” she said firmly, and sure enough a second later thunder rumbled over them, rustling the grasses at their feet and sending a small flock of birds up into the air. “I’m going home.”

“Erebor’s closer,” Fili offered cautiously. And it was true; Sigrid had been skulking off for at least two hours. She’d covered a lot of ground despite her clothing.

Still.

“Like hell I’m going there.” She bunched her skirts into her fists and set off back towards Dale. If she got caught in the rain, so be it. It was better than being stuck inside some gloomy mountain with brooding dwarves that didn’t give a rat’s ass about her.

She only made it about three feet when a warm hand caught her elbow. “Sigrid, please. I care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sigrid yanked her arm away, whirling on him furiously. “It’s too late for that, buddy boy.” Another clap of thunder boomed, and she hated how damn poetic the scene must be. It sounded like a storybook, the way the weather reflected her mood. The sky darkened as the clouds slowly floated in front of the sun, and she decided to roll with it. “I expect this from King Thorin, and I’ll deal with my Da later, but you?” She swallowed thickly. “How could you?” she asked, quieter. “I thought you were my friend.” Her shoulders slumped as all the fight drained out of her. “This will ruin everything.”

Fili took another step towards her and reached out to push a piece of hair off of her sticky forehead. His fingers lingered there at her neck, just below her ear, before he let his arm fall with a self-conscious frown. “I-- I certainly hope it does not.”

The first fat drops of rain struck Sigrid’s face and practically sizzled off her burning cheeks. He’d never touched her like that before, with such familiarity. Of course, they’d never actually been alone together before; rather, their meetings had always been larger state affairs with their whole families. Like this afternoon’s banquet had been when King Thorin and her father had announced their… arrangement. As more drops of water fell on her head and shoulders, she examined Fili closely.

He was getting wet too, splotches of darker linen sticking to his chest and arms even as the dry spots were buffeted in the breeze. His curls hung limp and frizzy, and he didn’t carry anything with him, not even a dagger at his hip. In fact, he’d shed his outer jacket and just gone running, as far as she could tell. Same as she had. Why had he come after her?

Fili must have seen the question in her eyes. “I didn’t want to ruin anything. In fact, I’d hoped…” He wiped rain off his face with a frustrated grunt. “I’d hoped that if I married you, I could-- I could save, well, whatever this is. There was already talk--” He cut himself off and took a deep breath. “If you married someone else, I knew I’d never see you again.” He reached out and gingerly took her hand. “And I couldn’t bear it. So I asked Bard for your hand, before anyone else could have you. I didn’t consult anyone else, not even Thorin, because I didn’t want anyone to stand in my way. But that was a mistake.” He bowed his head, rivulets of water now running down the side of his face. “I should have asked you.”

Sigrid stood there shell-shocked. Breaths came shallow, and she was unsure whether to blame her sodden clothing or her utter surprise. “You mean, you actually want... “ Her tongue felt heavy, her whole mouth dry despite the steady fall of rain.

Fili pulled her hand to his chest and held it there, pressed under both of his. Heat bled from him into fingers she hadn’t realized had become so cold. “I do,” he vowed. “I want you, all for myself. I want your smiles and I want your tears and I even want your anger, Sigrid, all of it, because at least I deserve that. I was your friend, I am your friend. I wanted more and I… I am so sorry I hurt you.”

A shiver ran down Sigrid’s spine, and another round of goosebumps rose up on her limbs. She blinked water out of her eyes and licked her lips, though no words came to them. It had just simply never occurred to her that they could be together. He’d always been right in her backyard, and whenever anyone talked about her marrying off, it had sounded so far away and foreign. She hadn’t been mad that she’d be made to marry Fili; in the deepest, most secret part of her heart she’d hoped for it for nigh on three years. No, she’d been mad because she’d been so certain he didn’t feel the same way.

“Please,” Fili whispered with his head bowed, his shirt now practically translucent with rain. “Forgive me.”

Sigrid reached out with her free hand and lifted Fili’s chin, and before she could lose her nerve, she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his. There was rainwater on his lips and caught in his mustache, and she could taste it when she pulled away from him. They looked at each other for a silent moment, then Fili surged forward again. She had opened the floodgates, and he was a tidal wave. One arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against him, the other slid up into her soaking hair to pull her back in for a kiss. This one seared, flowing white-hot from her lips down to her core. He kissed like she gave him breath, like she was water in the desert. He kissed like he’d been thinking about how to kiss her for quite some time.

It felt amazing. Every inch of her was on fire, the rain entirely forgotten in favor of the sensation of his lips moving against hers, his mustache brushing harshly against her nose as he urged her wordlessly for more. She parted her lips for him and as his hot tongue flicked into her mouth a quiet, half-strangled moan escaped despite herself.

Instantly the urgency was gone. Fili pressed his lips against hers in one final, precious touch, and then he pulled away, leaving Sigrid feeling breathless and empty as he let her go and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I’ve pushed too far. I should be getting you home.”

While Sigrid wouldn’t have minded kissing him forever in that rain, she had to admit that dry clothes and a cup of tea and not getting all hot and bothered in the middle of a damned field would probably be better for her in the long run. “Yes, I suppose we should go back to Dale. Or I should, anyway. You could go home.”

Fili laughed quietly. “I’m afraid I left my pony and all my possessions back in Dale. So I’ll have to accompany you.”

“Ahah!” Sigrid crowed as she started off back towards her city. “This was your plan all along!”

“How many different ways can I impress upon you: I did not have a plan. There was no plan. Absolutely zero preparation, no premeditation involved in any way. That’s why it went so tits-up, if you’ll pardon my Sylvan.” Fili scurried to catch up with her, which wasn’t hard considering her heavy, sodden skirts and the slippery grass underneath her feet.

They continued along, bickering good-naturedly until the rain stopped and they reached a crossroad. In one direction, King Bard’s palace. In the other, Fili’s pony and saddlebags.

“Well, this is goodbye, then,” Sigrid said.

“For now,” Fili replied.

“I suppose I should actually tell Da I accept your proposal.”

“I suppose I should actually give you one.”

“I, uh-- What?” Sigrid gaped as Fili reached into his pocket and withdrew a bird-shaped pendant on a pile of fine golden chain.

“Dwarves aren’t usually as public with their displays of romantic affection, but I hope now you know I love you. Desperately. I have for years.” He held the necklace forward and said, “You’re my One, Princess Sigrid. I offer you my heart, my body and my soul. Will you give me the honor of your hand in marriage?”

“Yes! Gods yes, what took you so long?” Sigrid pulled her tangled wet hair over her shoulder and took the necklace from him, fastening it around her neck so it hung just below her clavicle. She leaned in to kiss him but the whinny of a horse down the road caused her to pull back. 

“I’ll write,” she said instead.

It was so hard to leave him, but her boots squished and her skirts were caked with mud, and the chill had reached her bones. So she smiled, and turned, and headed up to the palace for a hot meal and a bath. She held the pendant tightly in her hand and a swell of warmth washed over her. Fili loved her after all. He loved her, and he’d be back for her, just like the sun had come back to peek between the clouds.

[sofasoap]

You are in trouble

Pairing : John Price x F!Reader ( Mini MacTavish )

Warning : Mature theme, mention of injuries.

A/N: Thanks to @jynxmirage and @okayyadriana for the ideas. @eenochian I know that post was an edit but it triggers this drabble. 😆

Was going to be a crack-ish fic, but somehow Angst was sprinkled in.

MASTERLIST

The door slammed open.

“CAPTAIN JOHNATHAN MICHAEL PRICE.”

The whole room just went silent. You can almost hear the pin dropping onto the floor.

Soap turned immediately to his captain.

“…. Whatever you have done, I wish you luck.” Patting him on the shoulder with one hand, and another one behind his back, signalling to Gaz and Ghost to ready to exfil out of the danger zone. “If I was you, I wouldn’t underestimate my sister’s wrath.” He added hastily.

You marched towards Price’s desk, full of anger and purpose. Soap gave his captain one last look, Good luck and survive. Before he dashed out the door.

“Can I help you love?” Price asked you in a calm manner.

“CAN I help you???” You seethed. “CAN you help ME??” He can see you trying very hard to suppress the urge to scream into his face. “First, you didn’t tell me you are back. And second,” Pointing at the slinged arm and bandages that are showing through the gaps of his shirt. “WHAT IS THAT.”

“ An injury I have aquired?” He raised his eyebrow. Shit. He totally forgot to contact you about his return.

“An Injury that nearly cost your life???” Tears started falling from your eyes. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Guilt grips Price’s heart. Walking around the desk and pulling you into his embrace with the uninjured arm and giving you a light kiss on the head.”I am sorry. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I am your wife John, it’s my job to worry about you.” You sniffed. “Don’t do this to me again please.”

“How did you find out I was back anyway?” Price asked in a quiet voice. He knew he wasn’t going to get away with his forgetfulness.

“I had a little bird that told me everything.”

“….. You told Mini about Captain’s injury??”

“Well….He was too stubborn to let her know, she will find out sooner or later, so..”

“Gaz..”

“Plus, that will get me off the hook. So… Good luck to you two.”

“”SHIT.””

[sofasoap]

By the fireplace

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader (AKA Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Winter moment with Riley family

Part of Memory in a Fragrance series

Part of Mini MacTavish series : post - And life goes on

Warning : T-M rating. Fluff.

A/N: This is for @okayyadriana , bit of Simon non Angst comfort for you :)

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Winter is your favourite time of the year.

Season for snow, roaring fire, comfort food, hot chocolates.

Closing your eyes, inhaling. The charred smell from the burning wood, mixed with the distinctive weapon oil,gunpowder sandalwood and vanilla.

Smell of comfort, home, safety.

Smell of Simon Riley.

“Tired?” Simon whispered as he put his book down, caressing your hair lovingly.

“Just relaxing.” You smiled as you snuggled further into him.

“Ma, Da.” Your head turned slightly, hearing the slight clinking sound of tray and mugs being set down on the side table. “ Two hot chocolates with a dash of whisky as requested. And Oh.” Turning back to dash into the kitchen and returning with a metal box.”Some Kletzenbrot that Uncle König sent over.”

“You mean Alex sent it over.” Tiny chimed in.

“Haud yer wheesht TINY!!!” Aileen blushed and tried to shush her brother up from spilling out secrets.

It’s one of the rare occasions the whole family is home for winter breaks. You couldn’t even remember when was the last time the family of five gathered together for the winter festive season.

Usually Simon and Soap will be called away for special missions, or the twins and their cousin had to be on standby at the base, leaving you with little Kylie to spend Christmas with your sister in law and rest of the children.

“I thought I told you to stay away from that boy.” You feel your husband’s body tenses up, chest rumbling as he voices his disapproval.

“LOVE.” “DA!” You patted Simon's chest, trying to soothe him.

“I like Alex, he is nice to me.” Little Kylie pouted, Simon’s eyes softened as he looked down at his youngest daughter, sitting in front of the fireplace with her brother,concentrating on knitting a scarf with the knitting machine Gaz got for her as a birthday present. “Uncle König makes the best desserts.Can we invite their family over next time??”

You had to stifle a laugh when you heard Simon grumbling away, “We’ll see.” He just couldn’t say no to his daughters.

“Well Tiny,” Aileen, turning towards her brother. “Who was that person I saw you chatting away in the barrack last time? You seem to be pretty close to them, hm??”

Tiny glared at his sister, who seemed to be pleased with her revenge.

Your ear perked up, but the bickering of the twins together with their younger sister drowned any recognisable conversation. Guess the gossip about your son’s love life will have to wait for another day.

You feel Simon relaxed back into the couch, pulling you back into his lap as he picks his book back up again, resume reading with a slight smile on his face.

Simon Riley finally find peace in his family.

Taglist :

@okayyadriana

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force

@rileyslibrary

@mistydeyes

@siilvan

@roosterr

[sofasoap]

Something that suddenly crawl into my mind while I work today ( sorry my patient. I am really focus on you as well!)

AU of my Lastochka AU. What if the reconciliation never happen?

PS: Thank you @siilvan for putting up with my sudden bombardment of messages between the work breaks.

Note: miniors DNI. Mature themes.

A ball rolls over and hits Nikolai’s foot, bringing him out of his reverie. 

He saw a little girl, no more than three, with cute pigtails running over to him. He picks up the ball and passes it back to the child. 

"Thank you!!" The little girl flashes a smile at him. A somewhat familiar smile. A smile that he wakes up to every morning, during a playful banter, after a passionate session.

A smile that he misses everyday.

A smile that he doesn’t get to see again.

Giving him one last wave she ran off towards the other side of the park, continuing to play with her group of friends. 

A world that is far away from him. Innocence of childhood. 

Pure as a sheet of white paper. 

"It's either coincidence or you are still stalking me, Nikolai." A voice perked up. “I never expected you to be the type to sit in the park and watch the world go by.” 

Nikolai looks up. Eyes widened. 

There's his Lastochka, still beautiful as ever, with an air of maturity, staring down at him.

"Good to see you again, Mini."

"Likewise. " After a brief minute of silence,watching the children kicking and throwing the balls around, Nikolai spoke up. 

"What are you doing here?I thought you moved back to Scotland."

 "Working. I am still working for the same company. Plus, I wanted to come back for a visit.”

The little girl from before ran over again towards you, interrupting their conversation. " Ma! Did you see how I kicked the ball???" The girl asked excitedly. You look down at her, with a soft smile as she pat away the dust on her clothes , "Yes I did mah bairn, it was a good kick." Seemingly satisfied with her mother's answer, the girl ran off again.

Nikolai follows the girls back as she runs back towards her friend and restarts their game. It suddenly struck him as he realised who the little girl was.

"She's a little ball of energy." 

"That she is." 

"Just like you." 

" She is MY child after all." 

Nikolai ' heart clenched at your comment. He knew he has no right to call himself a father after that night. The night of you accusing him of being unfaithful towards him. 

Even though it was a fake marriage. 

" .. what's her name?" 

" ..Anya." A name you have commented on previously how much you like the sound of.

 "It's not Scottish but if I ever had a kid, it's a lovely name! Or maybe I can force Johnny to name of his daughter that.. Anya MacTavish, it has a nice ring to it!"

He looked down towards the ground. Maybe in another time, if he had been smarter with his choices,  the little girl would have run up to him, excitingly calling out for her Papa, to hold her, demanding for his attention and ice cream because she is all tired and worn out from hours of play

"I….”  Nikolai replied as he took a deep breath in, ready to confess his hidden feeling as you turned to look at him for a second before turning away again. 

"She's just as wild and spontaneous as her father. Always causing me and her uncles headaches. " you whispered, voice wavering.

A little bit of hope emerged from Nikolai’s heart. Maybe….?

 In the distance, a small fight erupted, catching both of your attention. You gasped and shook your head before running towards the two children close to punching each other. Nikolai sees her pulling the two children apart, as he assumes the parent of the other child came over and started arguing with you, before storming away with the kid. 

"Anya MacTavish, what happened this time?" you exasperated but hugged your daughter as you walked her back towards Nikolai. Sounds like this happens quite a lot by your tone. Nikolai thought. She is indeed a mix of yours and him.  

"The bampot Сволочь came out of nowhere and pushed and kicked my new friends!!" Anya huffed and puffed as you sighed. Nikolai couldn't help but laugh at the girl.... his daughter 's strange mix of Scottish and Russian insults. 

" I see you have taught her both languages well. " he smiled, secretly proud of his little girl’s comment.

"She has the right to learn about her heritage. From her father's side too" you replied, dusting Anya’s clothes that are covered by dirt and grasses. 

Anya looked at Nikolai with a quizzical expression on her face, before turning back towards her mother. 

You gave Nikolai a look, before cracking a smile. The smile he's been dreaming of for the last few years. "How about we all go for ice cream, and I can introduce him to you, hmm?"

"Ma, you know this man?"

Your expression softens." Yes, I do." 

Taggy tag:

@siilvan

@gamergirlbones

@nrdmssgs

@roosterr

@preciouslittlecreature

@shyravenns

[brewed-pangolin]

Just a little bit of Soap comfort...

18+MDNI

--

You didn't have to call him. He was already waiting on your doorstep when you came home.

"C'mere, bonnie." His voice was like velvet. Soothing the open nerves of your heart while his arms welcomed you into his loving sanctuary.

You had cured an unspoken bond when you were together. It was so long ago, yet the tendrils of devotion still pulled at your souls like vines. Stubborn and overgrown.

"I still love ya, y'know." He spoke soflty into the delicate fibers of your hair. Burying your head into his chest, encapsulated within the safety of his embrace as your world shattered like emotionally stained glass all around you.

"I can't do this, Johnny. Not now." Your feigned attempt a reluctance was met by a tighter hold of his arms around you.

"I know. We donnae 'ave to do anythin'. Jus' talk if ya want."

-

That 'just talk' lasted no more than thirty minutes before Johnny had you splayed out underneath him.

Every thrust fracturing your soul. Every fragmented whimper swallowed by his greedy void. Feasting relentlessly on your heartache, emptying the pain within your chest. Filling the vacuum with his overwhelming tenderness to dull the burn of healing as your mind and body cauterized itself from yet another failed relationship.

"Johnny," you whimpered breathlessly into his mouth.

"I know, bonnie. I know."

His wavering timbre sending you barreling into overstimulatation. Clenching your eyes, digging your nails into his flesh of his back as the pulse of an orgasm radiates deep within your pelvic floor.

"Open your eyes, love. Got'a see ya. Fuck, miss seein' ya like this."

You willingly follow his grunting command. Meeting his gaze, immediately drowning in his cerulean seas as you reach your climax and blissfully convulse around him.

"Joh-" your murmured whine was quickly silenced by his mouth. Defeaning your moans as he slows his pace, his hips stuttering with a growly moan as he abruptly empties himself deep within your welcoming caverns.

"I fuckin' love ya, bonnie. Love ya so goddamn much."

"I know, Johnny." His exhausted proclamation ricocheted off the walls and straight into your heart. Cementing the borders of your soul once more as you found yourself again within the deep recesses of his eyes.

You trail a finger across his sweat covered brow. Curling tendrils of his overgrown mohawk behind his ear, find your voice once more as his body steadily trembles above you.

"You wanna try again, Johnny? See what happens?"

"Aye. I'd try fer a lifetime if it meant I could 'ave jus' one night wit you."

You sealed the next juncture of your renewal with a kiss. Rekindling the flame between your conjoined bodies as the doors of eternity opened in a welcoming embrace.

--

I don't know what this is, besides a heap of emotional mumbo-jumbo. Whatever. I love writing SoftSoap. And writing this just healed my soul.

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @jynxmirage @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @punishmepunisher @d3athtr4psworld @ghosts-goldendoodle @obligatoryghoststare @shotmrmiller @writeforfandoms @thetrashpossum @simpingoverquestionablemen @mykneeshurt @haurasha @kkaaaagt @luismickydees

[brewed-pangolin]

My current obsession...

NSFW below the cut

Being on a video call that will ensure the promotion you’ve been working towards for years, and the smug bastard that is Johnny Soap MacTavish takes it upon himself to eat you from underneath the desk table.

You can't break the call. Have to remain calm from the hip up as Johnny skilfully devours at your delicious cunt.

Your brow furrows, lips twitch. Yet you remain steadfast and focused on the task at hand even as Johnny works you into a feverish mess just beneath the surface.

It all culminates into that one final question from the highest executive, the one that will make or break the next step in your career.

And as if on cue, the overconfident shithead between your legs moans and delves his tongue into the depths of your core just as you begin to utter the response that will set in stone the next chapter of your life.

Your only reaction is a slightly heightened pitch to your initial words before ultimately regaining composure. Fiercely gripping into the desk behind the monitor and out of view as the relentless waves of an encroaching orgasm ripple out through your core and from the tip of Soap's overly talented tongue.

As the sounds of positive evaluation and approval spill through the speakers of your monitor, you quickly yet professionally mutter your appreciation and gratitude to your superiors and swiftly close the monitor to finally release your pent-up climax violently against his mouth.

Throwing your head back with a roaring moan of his name from your quivering lips, covering him with your juices as you tremble into the chair and slump over in overwhelming bliss.

And as your mind steadily settled back down into blissful normalcy, you glanced down between your legs and were met with an arrogant yet affectionately loving gaze.

"Congratulations, bonnie."

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @homicidal-slvt @obligatoryghoststare @glitterypirateduck @mykneeshurt @kkaaaagt @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @thetrashpossum @haurasha @havoc973 @simpingoverquestionablemen @ang3lc @luismickydees @designateddeadend

[brewed-pangolin]

There's something so hypnotic about Soap's mouth...

NSFW below the cut

Soap’s mouth is like a force of nature.

He kisses you like you're air and he’s been suffocating for weeks. He’ll hold your face within his hands, keeping your head still as he tilts his just so. Sealing his lips over your mouth as he devours your luscious and life-giving essence.

And he savors the taste of your mouth like a fiend. Soap’s known to have a very enthusiastic tongue, and making out is no exception. And if you tease him by biting his bottom lip, he’ll lose it. He’ll either fuck you right then and there or, if you’ve been successfully riling him up, come right in his pants. So tread lightly.

He trails his mouth over you skin like a pilgrim traversing a fantastical landscape. Delving into every curve, tasting the subtle changes in your flavor, and putting to memory your reactions to the gentle caresses of his lips along your more sensitive areas.

Soap especially enjoys the way you whimper when he trails his mouth over your calf. Lightly dragging his teeth along the sensitive flesh, just below the bend of the knee as he teasingly pumps his cock at a glacial pace into your soaking core.

And he eats you out like a man on death row, and you are his last supper. He savors the taste of your heat, how it changes depending on your diet, and the subtle shifts in acidity in accordance with your changing hormones. He says he prefers you taste right before your cycle. Your flavor is sweeter, more robust. As if your body is preparing him for a feast that only he had been lucky enough to pick up on.

Before Soap, you were reluctant. Shy even, to let a man take advantage of you in such a vulnerable way. But now, you can’t see your life being anything less than pleasurably dull without him. 

But it isn’t always what Soap does with his mouth that has you caged like an animal inside his languid prison. It’s what comes out of it.

His voice.

That low, rumbling brogue that echoes from the speaker when he’s halfway across the globe and all he has is a cellphone and fifteen minutes at his disposal. His words generating the most pleasurable and obscene images in your mind, a talent only he can possess.

“Tha’s it, bonnie. Add ‘nother finger fo’me. Stretch tha’ sweet fuckin’ pussy like y’know I do.”

“Steaming hell. Can ‘ere how wet ya are, love. Keep goin.”

“Donnae hol’ back, lass. Got’a ‘ear ya moan fo’me.”

“I cannae…I canne cum…until ya moan…my name, bonnie.”

His deep Scottish accent rolling off his tongue and straight to your pulsing core. Pumping your fingers vigorously, doing your best to mirror his actions. Yet nothing can compare to the reality that is him.

And after his verbal torture he calms your trembling mind, still reeling from your orgasm with the affection of a gentle lover. Using that rumbling purr you’ve grown to adore in the afterglow of a powerful climax.

“Ya so good fo’me, bonnie. So fuckin’ good.”

“Bet ya made a mess, didn’ya? Mhmm. That’s how I want ya, lass. A mess an’ beggin’ for me.”

You didn’t know what your life was like before him, besides unfulfilled in pleasure. He opened you to a world you had only read about in romance novels and seen within the stories on television. You didn’t think it was real. Unachievable. Until the Scottish siren that is John ‘Soap’ MacTavish thrusted himself into your life. 

Now, you couldn’t imagine living a life without him.

Addicted to a man and his mouth. Naturally. Like the continuous flow of oxygen deep within your lungs.

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @punishmepunisher @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @kkaaaagt @mykneeshurt @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @obligatoryghoststare @writeforfandoms @haurasha @havoc973 @macravishedbymactavish @ang3lc @luismickydees

[brewed-pangolin]

Visual prompt for Super Soap Sunday:

On mission you can't stop thinking about Soap's gloved fingers. What to do....what to do....

Trigger Finger

18+ MDNI: Pretty self explanatory here, folks. Just a quick little drabble. Totally unedited. I'm going down with the ship.

Happy Super Soap Sunday. (And I apologize for this taking FOREVER!)

You couldn't help it. The way your eyes constantly moved to linger over the movements of his gloved fingers over the top of steering wheel. Rhythmically tapping to an unsung beat in his head as you both sat silent in the front of the humvee.

The recon mission was dull. Uneventful and borderline boring, so it was no surprise that your attention would be drawn elsewhere.

And what was worse, is that he caught you staring on more than one occasion, but kept his curious inquiries to himself. Deciding to let it play it out and lure you in further, like a glistening bait to an unattntive fish.

And just when the time was right, when he felt your gaze linger just a bit too long, he'd reel you in with that signature Scottish charm.

"Seein' somethin' ya like, bonnie?"

"What? No." You shot back. His sudden deep brogue breaking your mindless trance. Shifting your gaze away while a soft rouge hue of embarrassment warmed in your cheeks.

"Mhmm. Then why ya keep starin', hm?"

"I wasn't staring. I was..."

You paused. Words suddenly lost. Breath catching in your throat, eyes desperately searching for an answer that was nowhere to be seen. And all the while feeling like a wild animal caught in his perfectly timed trap.

"It was the tapping, okay. That's it."

"Aye. The tapping."

"Keep tellin' yourself that, bonnie."

The uncanny arrogance in his tone was palpable. Confidence smearing over his face as the corner of his mouth curled up at you. He returned to the rhythmic cadence once more, now much more deliberate. Like the beat of a drum beckoning to you from the deep recesses of your mind.

And with that, you finally gave in.

"Goddamit."

"Aye. Goddamit."

What ensued was nothing short of trigger finger induced ecstasy. Your seat reclined back to its limit, his hand buried deep within the top of your open trousers as his gloved fingers teased along the flesh of your silkened walls. Pumping in and out of your soaked cunt while his thumb relentless circled over your throbbing clit. His movements working in tandem, luring you ever closer to orgasm as you clenched your thighs around his forearm.

"That's right, bonnie. Jus' tappin' that sweet pussy a'yers."

You were done for at that moment. Lost at sea in an ocean of pleasured paradise as he coaxed a delicious moan from between your lips. Your hands gripping into the arm rests as your hips bucked to force him further down to the knuckle. Your walls tightening around him as you rode out your climax against his palm.

And this is how it all started. Day in and day out. While on solo recon missions, his hands would always meander their way into the warm confines between your legs and beckon more of those sweet moans that only he could conjure up. The maestro to your pleasure. And only he could make you sing. And above all, one thing always rang true.

The gloves stayed on.

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@deadbranch @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @kkaaaagt @astraluminaaa @strlingsav @macravishedbymactavish @mykneeshurt

[brewed-pangolin]

Drunk Text

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI: Sexual themes.

Synopsis: You send Johnny a drunk text. It ends with a cop at your front door. (I'm teasing you all before the smut hits the literal fan). Unedited because I'm having way too much fun.

"You up?"

You press 'send'. Thumbs leisurely fumbling over the screen as your vision blurs and mind spins in a concoction of intoxicants.

You were sluggishly writing another message when he responds.

"Aye.

"Where are you?"

You question his inquiry for a moment. Eyes glazed and glancing up at the time on the screen.

2:36am.

Dammit.

"O'Reilly's."

He doesn't respond right away. But you can hear his deep brogue in your mind. Most definitely a stunned yet slightly intrigued 'Steamin' Jesus' escaping his lips.

"Need a ride?"

He's such a gentleman. Always has been. Yet with the sweet ethanol coursing through your veins and clouding your judgement, you couldn't help but give into your fiery and animalistic needs.

"You gonna be my saddle?

Again. No response.

After a few drowned out and muffled moments, his caller ID image popped up on the screen. Your lips curled into a devilish smile, swiping without hesitation to answer the call.

"Hi, Johnny.." You answer. Words slightly slurred. Languidly meandering together and your voice husky with an aire of whiskey fueled confidence.

"Yer a dirty little minx, y'know that?"

"What? You offered me a ride."

"Aye. I did."

There was a slight pause in your thoughts. Overtaken by the cacophony of sounds around you as your mind spiraled into a realm of provocative images.

"Well? Can I get a ride?"

He responded immediately with a rumbling growl. Even with the music blaring and sea of voices behind you, your ears easily picked up the subtle arousal bubbling within his throaty timbre.

"Be there in ten minutes."

You chase your victory with another shot. Hanging up with a triumphant slam of the glass on the bar as you close out your tab and walk out to wait for your drunken trophy at the front of the bar.

Two hours later, you were standing in the doorway of your apartment. Repeatedly apologizing to the officer in the hall and reassuring him there was most certainly not an altercation going on.

"I am so sorry, officer. Believe me, there's nothing going on."

You wrap the knitted blanket tightly around your chest and underneath your arms. Shielding your apparent nudity while the officer looks at you with a slightly gregarious grin.

"Just keep it down, ma'am."

"Yes, sir."

You both turn and part ways. He disappearing down the hall as you close the door and immediately march back into your bedroom.

And you can't help the sly grin curling into your lips as your eyes take in his overly confident expression. His hands resting behind his head, his muscular torso expanding as he takes in the sight of you.

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that, Johnny." You tease. The blanket around you effortlessly falling to the floor as your eyes lock into his dark and hungry gaze.

"Mmm. I'm countin' on it, bonnie."

If there was one thing that rang true that night, it was that your neighbors wouldn't get a moments rest. Because you were too busy riding a Scotsman like a whiskey possessed cowgirl.

The rodeo had definitely come into town.

(Omg, this last line is so stupid. But I had to.)

Part 2?

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[brewed-pangolin]

NSFW below the cut...

Soap currently has you pinned against the wall of your entryway.

His fingers griping tightly into the flesh of your exposed thighs as he presses his chest firmly against yours.

Your breathless whimpers intertwining with his rumbling grunts as he continues to thrusts himself relentlessly in and out of your silken heat.

Yet somehow it's not the cacophony of pleasured sounds and the euphoric feel of him that catches your attention. No, it's the reflection in the mirror on the adjacent wall that has firmly caught your feverish focus.

His ass.

That impeccably round and adequately muscular part of him always seemed to catch your eye.

Even hidden beneath his perfectly fitting jeans. Your gaze always seemed to find itself lingering on him just below his waist.

But the sight in front of you now is wholly different.

It's raw. It's passionate. It's him.

And you can't help but feel yourself reveling in the way his hips continually ripple themselves between your openly spread legs.

You'll get addicted. You know it. And you'll let yourself fall into his habitual dependence. Desperate for another hit.

But for now, you'll savor it. Bask in the sight of his perfect little bubble butt thrusting into your hips.

(I'm tired and this probably sucks, but who cares. Soap's ass just lives rent free inside my head.)

To all my fellow Soap thirsters...@deadbranch @sofasoap @glitterypirateduck @d3athtr4psworld @astraluminaaa @mykneeshurt @homicidal-slvt @shotmrmiller @haurasha @obligatoryghoststare

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@ave661 this is all your fault (I love you)

[brewed-pangolin]

Soap De La Crème

Soap MacTavish is a maniac.

He eats the crème filling between the Oreos. Then puts the plain biscuits back in the box like a psychopath, leaving the entire container empty of its deliciously creamy decadence.

And then, he waits.

Waits like an overly confident predator for you to find his skillfully placed lure until you finally take the bait and confront him on his delectable atrocity.

NSFW below the cut...

--

"What the fuck, John?" You challenge, scolding tone boiling through your voice as you toss the distinctive blue package haphazardly into his lap.

"Oi. What's th' deal, lass?"

"You ate the crème, dipshit. And like some kind of savage put the empty cookies back in."

"Bicuits."

"You- what? Biscuits?"

"Aye. They're called biscuits."

"No, they're not. They're called-" you stutter, "that's not the point. Why did you-"

"Why'a gettin' so flustered, hen?" Soap intetjects, the subtle hint of a smirk curling into his lips.

"I'm not getting flustered, I-"

"Yer never like this when I lick th'crème between yer biscuits."

You halt, dead in your tracks. Synapses misfiring as you take a moment to recount your mental plunder.

"Oh, you sneaky little bastard."

"Aye. But I'm yer, sneaky little bastard."

-

No more than five minutes later, you were splayed out before him. Mindlessly moaning his name with his crested head perfectly buried between your exposed thighs.

"Oh God, Johnny."

"Mhm. No' complainin' now, are ya, bonnie?" Soap hums quietly against your flesh. Your eyes rolling back as his tongue laps oh so diligently between your silken folds.

"Johnny, please," you whimper between hushed, gasping breaths.

"Please, what?"

"Let me come, Johnny. Please." Your pleading voice cracks suddenly to the sensual arrogance of his tone. Arching your back up, pressing your mound into his mouth as you feel the building pulse of an orgasm deep within your core.

"Ya gonna cream for me, lass? Do it. Make a mess on me face, bonnie. Come for me."

And with his unhinged permission, you let go. Releasing yourself into his mouth. Letting him devour the delicious crème of your climax on his tongue as he expertly licks between your pleasured and swollen biscuits.

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