#soft soap

[circusinthewalls]

☆ Viburnums - Chapter 1: The Fucking Sun ☆

Thank the heavens for holiday leave. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand the bitter cold that seeped through the barracks windows back on base. At least here at home, even if it wasn't much better insulation wise, you weren't tossing and turning all night from the chill. Not that you could really move much to begin with, sandwiched between Johnny and Simon like this. Although, come to think of it, you're all pretty pent up, so maybe it isn't so bad after all. Granted you can balance getting your last minute Christmas shopping done with getting your back blown out, of course.

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Tags: Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Soft John "Soap" MacTavish, Top John "Soap" MacTavish, They're both fairly possessive of you tbh, AFAB Reader, Gender Neutral Terms, this is really self indulgent tbh, Christmas, Boxing Day, Established Polyam Relationship, Porn With Plot, I know it's May leave me alone, The holidays are nice, I imagined reader as transmasc when writing this, but anyone can read tbh, I got like two hours of sleep help, Proship DNI, MDNI, flip flopping povs like hotcakes baby i do what i want

a/n: Hello!! This will have a few more chapters, so some of the tags will be relevant within the next chapter. Will hopefully have that out in a couple days. Enjoy! o7 [ao3 link] [Chapter 2 (TBA)]

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Simon awakes first. Much to his surprise, actually. Typically you're the one that rises at dawn with him following close behind.  He doesn't blame you, though. The trip home, what with all the holiday crowding in the airport and the traffic after, took a lot out of all of you. By some miracle you'd managed to hold it together enough for the three of you combined, but he could tell it'd left you exhausted. He rolls over, inching himself closer as he drapes his tattooed arm over your midsection, brushing against Johnny's hand that rests down by your hip. Briefly, he watches to see if the other man will stir. Then his gaze flickers to you. Neither of you even shift. Wrecked clearly. Suddenly finding himself a little more content with the idea of simply going back to sleep, he sidles up against you proper, nuzzling between your shoulder blades and using your warmth to lull him into drifting off again.

Later in the morning it's you that first withdraws from slumber, albeit slowly. You suck in a breath and stretch out your legs, yet in doing so you come to realize that someone's thigh is wedged firmly between them.You crack an eye open to investigate, only to wince when met with the sliver of hazy sunlight that's peeking in through the space between the curtains. You relent and decide to put off the task for later. It's not like you've ever minded being tangled up with the boys, anyway. Whoever's thigh it is can stay there. Isn't half bad in that spot, actually. ... Jesus, how long has it been since the three of you had simply had some time together that you're genuinely starting to get worked up just from this? Wracking your memories only turns up mission after mission with training filling in the gaps apart from a fleeting tryst in the locker room. One that'd gotten cut short when Price nearly walked in on the three of you, calling through the door that he needed Johnny for a moment. Speaking of the Scotsman, you can feel him move beside you. Probably startled awake by the way you jerked when the morning rays attacked you seconds prior. His fingers curl in, hand lazily feeling over your waist as he wakes up, trying to regain sense of his surroundings and figure out why it's so fuckin' hot in here. You tentatively open your eyes again just as he's turning away from you a bit, body twisting sideways enough to make his meaty thigh press harder against your clothed sex. Maybe it'd be more bearable if you'd had either him or Simon in you at all in the last month.  When you make a small noise at the feeling, Johnny finally seems to remember you exist. Blinking the last ties of sleep away, he turns his attention over to you. "We're outta milk," he mutters. 

What??  "Just remembered." You squint at him, an emotion akin to befuddlement written across your face. Of course, kudos to the man for having his priorities straight. You did need milk and.. Well, the whole lot of other standard groceries to be honest. Such is life coming back home every odd couple of months or so. Still, a, 'Good mornin' lovie,' would've been nice to hear first.

"Simonnn," you groan, quickly and haphazardly disentangling yourself from Johnny to roll over and face your other partner instead. "Your boyfriend is being fucking weird again." All the sudden flopping around is enough to rather abruptly rouse him, earning a gruff sound in response. He rubs at his eyes, trying his hardest to listen to whatever the hell it is you're saying so soon after waking him up. Laying damn near completely on top of him while doing so, at that. Truth be told he missed most of it, but he did make out something about Johnny being his boyfriend. At least he's pretty sure he did. "Yeah?" he hesitantly agrees, voice still thick with grogginess. "Was yours, too, last I checked?" Johnny isn't paying you two much mind. He has other plans and fully intends to see them through, so while you're preoccupied whining to Simon he slips out of bed unnoticed. Only when he's leaning over, fully dressed and ready to brace the snowy weather outside, planting goodbye kisses atop each of your heads do you pick up on the absence of his warmth beside you. You sit up, almost trying to chase him for another kiss, equally surprised and curious about his unanticipated departure. "Goin' to the market," he answers before you can even ask. "Ye ken I won't be long." As you two watch him exit the flat, Simon pulls you back down into his arms. He's not particularly excited about seeing Johnny go either, but he knows he'll be back within the hour and certainly won't object to having you to himself until then.

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

At some point Soap starts to just walk in Ghost's room. He knocks, but never waits for Ghost to answer him, he just barges in. At first Ghost was annoyed to no believe, but with time he got used to it. He doesn't even acknowledges Soap after he enters anymore, he recognizes his steps in the hall, so he knows it's just Johnny.

One time Soap walks in, already talking about what happened to him today, while Ghost sits at his desk doing paperwork, not even bothered. Soap sits on Ghost's bed and talks about his day, about how his training went, about the call he had with his mom, about a Taco recipe from Rudy. At some point he stops.

"And what after you chopped the onion?" Asked Simon, not rising his eyes from papers.

"Oh, ye are listening?" Soap perked up.

"Mhm.." Ghost nodded.

"I just thought I should stop talking"

"Don't. It's soothing."

Soap smiled widely and continued on with the recipe.

[iifishizzleii]

ghost, who gets on one knee to unstrap your heels and massage your sore feet and aching legs

soap, who runs you a warm bath with your favorite scented salts and sprinkles of white roses

price, who pats you dry when you’re done and dresses you in a pair of soft, comfy pajamas

gaz, who combs through your damp hair and does your facial routine for you, resting your head on a pillow as he tends to your delicate features

[islenthatur]

Simon flinched as Soaps hands came up to cup his exposed cheeks, fingers running reverently along the scars that pulled and twisted his face into something monstrous. How could Johnny touch them so when Simon himself couldn't even bear to look at them without feeling disgusted. 

"Yer a bonnie lad Si," Soap breathed in awe, categorizing every freckle, scar and wrinkle. Each mark was a story, each scar proof that Simon fought and survived… 

"Don't lie to me Johnny, not you, please." Simon whispered brokenly, eyes still cast down, unable to lift them to see the disgust that was surely there. "You were right the first time, my face is ug…"

"Stop, look at me." Soap interrupted, fingers pressing firm against Simon's jaw to tilt up, blue eyes locking on brown. "I never lie to you Simon, not about this. There's nothing about you that's ugly, I love every mark and scar you bear because it means you're still here with me." 

Disbelief still shone in Simon's eyes and Soap couldn't help but feel his heart crack a little more. "Tell me mo chridhe, do you find me ugly with the scars I bear?" 

"NO Johnny! Never!" Simon forced out, eyes wide in desperation to show Johnny he meant every word. That he didn't believe that. 

Soap smiled softly, thumb running across the scar that bisected Simon's top lip. "Then tell me my love, what makes you think I'd find you any less handsome because of yours?"

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Oh my god what if! Instead of usual brooding Ghost who doesn’t change much from how he usually is unless they’re behind closed doors. We get a Ghost who turns into a literal puppy?

Like it’s not the full on shabang of a puppy but it’s like the subtle or quiet little actions of a puppy.

He sees Johnny walk into literally any room he’s in? He locks onto the man and perks up from wherever he is. He hears Johnny’s voice somewhere nearby? He trails after it until he finds the man and then hangs around.

And don’t even get me started on how he’s like when they’ve got actual privacy. The man is surprisingly clingy and always wants attention and just general affection. Soap’s fine with it. Fucking adores giving it to Simon whenever the hell he asks for it.

Simon trails him all over when he’s up and doing something. Even if it’s something as simple as washing his face Simon’s in the door and watching him, waiting patiently for him to finish so he can start hugging him again.

The man still doesn’t talk much, but Johnny can see the ears perked on his head and tail wagging behind him whenever Johnny’s giving him attention. And it’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

[brewed-pangolin]

The Midas Touch

Gif credit to @collinnmckinley

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

This little fic is an extension of a Soap headcanon I did recently about Soap being sensitive to touch. Never judge a book by its cover. And if you ever want to get into Johnny's, it's easy. Touch him.

Warnings: Just a little bit of angst amongst an absolute heep of fluff. And ALL the feels!

Word Count 2.8k

--

If there were a more eloquent word to describe the afternoon before you, it was in a foreign tongue. Nestled into the cushions of your couch and surrounded by pillows and blankets, it was nothing short of blissful perfection. 

The soft ticking of the clock in the foreground like a rhythmic heartbeat of the day, accompanied by the echoing calls of birds outside your window, it combined into a soothing scene of comfort and tranquility. Even the dull sounds of the television seemed to add an extra layer of soft buffering to the world around you. 

It was all in the background as your focus was on the book in your hands; a twisted tale of romance and espionage that pulled at your heartstrings and made your body ache for more. Lost within the lines of dialogue your mind pushed out nearly all distractions as your mind flooded with imagery the endless words created. All except one.

That one distraction was him. Johnny. Soap. To be more specific it was his breathing. The longer you listened the more distinctive it became. Every inhale was labored. Every exhale drawn out to its last molecule, expelling whatever burrowing demon he had brought back from his last mission. He had barely said a word since coming home overnight, and even as he sat motionless next to you, his body language spoke volumes. 

Without taking your eyes off the pages, your hand instinctually traveled to the back of his neck, the sudden connection causing a hitch in his breath. Cupping your hand into the crook of his neck, your fingers danced across his flesh as he pulled his head back, begging for more connection. Your eyes withdrew from the pages and turned towards him as the tips of your fingers felt the tension beneath them almost immediately. 

“Jesus, Soap. You’re stiff as a board.” Your abundantly honest quip hit a silent nerve within him. 

“Aye. Sorry, hen. Jus’ tired. Las’ one did me in, yeah.”

Soap’s voice was quiet, somber, and riddled with silent regret wrapped within his usual jovial disposition. He slowly turned his head to face you. His distinctive bright blue eyes were dim, faded with a grayish hue encroaching from the softened edges. And you could see within the visible lines of his face he was broken. 

This had become your routine. Soap would leave you on a mission whole and come back in fragmented mental pieces of a Johnny you almost didn’t recognize. Some more so than others. This time was no different. He could never tell you the details of his deployments, and you preferred it that way. The less you knew the better, you had told him over and over again. You were his lover, and you knew your obligation to him through and through. Solace.

Softly you caressed the hairline on the back of his skull with your thumb, while simultaneously adding more pressure to the fingers along the length of his neck. A light squeeze to his flesh was all it took for a soft moan to escape his lips. 

His eyelids fluttered closed as he melded into the cusp of your hand, and with every breath you began to feel his muscles loosen beneath your delicate touch. There was progress here, but more needed to be done. 

Through years of deployments and countless trial and error endeavors, you had found the sequential breakthrough to get to Johnny within the reinforced walls that was ‘Soap in the field’. It took time, patience, and the delicate workings of your skilled hands to untether him from within the tight bindings of his tormented mind. 

Like the intricate workings of a corset, you began with the silken thread tied at the base of his skull; light pressure of your fingertips descending into the crook of his neck, a soft ripple of release flowed within their wake as your hands traversed their way up along the same path. The perpetual ebb and flow permeated beneath his taut skin and within a matter of moments the barriers of Soap began to crumble, and within their darkened crevices the bright light of Johnny slowly began to bleed through.

“Fuckin hell, bonnie.” His weathered voice was barely above a whisper.

“C’mon Soap. You know the drill.”

At the trailing of your words you released him from your soothing embrace, moving to face him within the corner of the couch and relaxing into an Indian sitting position. A whispered moan escaped his lips at the sudden detachment of your fingers, the soft sound reverberated within your chest and lit the fiery need to give him the relief he so desperately craved. Placing one of the many pillows that surrounded you into the gap between your legs you gave it a light tap before beckoning him to lay and relax beneath you. 

“C’mon now. Get comfy.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

There it was; your first tendril of Johnny had made its way through the concrete fortress. Those two words were the safety net to bring him back into the light and send Soap into the realm of protected hibernation. As he twisted his tophalf to face away and shuffle back, your hand shot up to quickly halt him in his progression.

“Wait, Soap. Shirt. Take it off.”

“What?” He asked in a baffled tone. 

“Just take your damn shirt off, Soap.” You were breaking from the usual narrative, and Soap was all but lost in your divergent undertaking.

As he turned his head you were met with a perplexed look with a questioning furrowed brow. You reciprocated with a tilt of your head and deliberate ‘go on’ gesture of your hand. Being the good soldier he was he followed your order without question, lifting his shirt over the crest of his head in one fluid motion. 

“What’ya got in mind, hen?”

“The usual, Soap. Just changing it up a bit. Now c’mon.” 

“Okay, okay. Donnae got t’be so bossy, hen.”

“Shut it. And toss me that blanket by your feet.” 

You were blunt, yet held an undertone of tenderness embedded within your words. It was an elegantly choreographed repartee that you used to counteract Soap’s use of humor as a smokescreen. There was a silent tremble in his skin as he passed the blanket and immediately you opened it up, laying it upon him as he shifted back towards you.

As his body descended into the softness of the couch, your hands moved to cradle the curvature of his neck and gracefully guided his head down into the plushness of the pillow. He tilted his chin slightly upward to meet your gaze, his crested head divoting deeper into the fabric of the pillow. And those cerulean orbs flashed a momentary brightness as more of Soap dissipated into the foreground of his mind.

“Hiya, bonnie.” 

“Hey there, Johnny.”

The bindings had come undone. The tight grip of Soap released. He laid before you open and exposed, a vulnerability you had earned and would never take for granted. 

“Close your eyes, Johnny. Just relax for me.” 

As much as you hated to part with his baby blues, you knew he had to close off certain senses to remain open to you. Touch was paramount to Johnny; as important as it was for him to his partner, it was just as influential to his own well-being. 

At the closing of his eyes he shifted himself further into the comfort of the couch, leveling his shoulders onto the length of your calves. Once you felt him begin to relax and deepen into your grasp your fingers gracefully began to outstretch over the circumference of his neck.

“You good, Johnny?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Now, focus on your breathing.”

You watched as his chest rose, he held the breath deep within his lungs before slowly expelling it through his slightly parted lips. It was a cleansing breath, you could feel it within the tips of your fingers as his skin loosened and muscles began to unwind beneath the veil of his flesh. Focusing on where you had left off, you applied light pressure to the back of his skull and in a languid motion moved up and down the curvature of his neck. 

Each pass up mirrored his inhalation. As he held the air within his chest you pressed firmly into his skin, gradually making slow concentric circular movements that melted away the tension beneath your fingertips. At the first sign of his exhalation you released the pressure and gracefully flowed down and followed your previous upward path. 

Like the constant rhythmic motion of the tide you worked out the vice-like grip of his muscles along his upper spine. Each steady pass removing layers upon layers of war-torn cemented sediment, and as the tenseness within him eroded your grip along his skin slowly began to relax.

“That’s it, Johnny. Loosen up for me.” You whispered, the quiet approval eliciting a soft moan from within his chest. 

Johnny’s neck was always the most difficult portion for you to work out. It was the reinforced base to the levee of his psyche. Yet within your skilled workings once there was even the slightest crack within it, he would begin to crumble within the palms of your hands. And just as expected as you chiseled your way through to his inner turbulent sea, the waves of regret and remorse seeped through before ultimately breaking into a deluge of comforting relief.

You read the waves of his release like braille underneath the pads of your fingertips, following within its wake as it traversed down into the curve of his neck before bellowing over the flesh of his broad shoulders. A cascade of goosebumps erupted over his bare skin, the change in tactile texture sending a satisfying surge of triumph coursing through your veins. 

“C’mon, Johnny. Come back to me.” You tried to quell the quiet desperation in your voice as you beckoned him, but it was of no use. 

It was nearly impossible not to react to Johnny’s progressive mitigation. The energy of the room began to shift, the very air itself lifted like a welcoming breeze following a summer rainstorm. 

Fresh. Clean. Rejuvenated.

Yet still held the sparks of electrical charge within its flowing currents of air.

You understood the transition, comprehended its meaning through years of study with him. This was his breakthrough. Figuratively and literally you forced your way into him, bending over as you delved your hands beneath the weight of his shoulders towards the muscular curve of his mid spine. Clenching your fingers your knuckles pressed into his flesh and with measured tenderness followed its path back up towards his shoulders. 

“Fuuckin hell, bonnie” He hissed through clenched teeth, turning his head towards you. His forehead becoming flush with the flesh of your right cheek, the tips of his mohawk caressing the soft skin of the back of your neck. 

You remained in your crouched position, cradling his head within the nook of your shoulder. Words were meaningless to you now. You spoke to him through the intimate connection of your combined skins. Coaxing. Pleading. Liberating.

As the tight coil within him began to unwind, your fists slowly relaxed. Opening and spreading over the curves of his supple flesh. The heat within them radiating, melting, smoothing out the muscular rigidity that densely wrapped around him. You studied him, watched for those tell tale signs to Soap’s restful disintegration. 

Your eyes paid close attention to the movements of his chest. The soft tremble within its descent, the silent quiver wrapped around his audible exhale. And as your focus shifted upward, you recognized the softening lines beginning to flow across his face. Clenched eyelids relaxing, jaw loosening from its tightly hinged junction, and a soft red hue forming within the apple of his cheeks.

This was your cue. The last hurdle towards Johnny’s final threshold.

“Come on, Johnny. Up ya get.” 

You moved quickly to resting on your knees as he reared himself into a sitting position. An audible moan of relief rumbled within him, followed by disdain at the loss of your delicate touch. Moving forward you cradled his shoulders within the realm of your chest, letting his head once more softly connect with yours as your hands traced down his spine to rest within the small of his back. 

As your fingers lightly caressed at the sensitive flesh, he turned his head and began to nudge his forehead into the flat of your temple. His soft lips grazed over the curve of your cheek, warm air quivering down your neck as he gently coaxed you to face him. 

He was searching. Desperately. He craved that final connection; to willingly fall apart within your arms and come undone to the soothing consolation of your welcoming lips.

“Bonnie.”

“I got ya, Johnny. Come back to me.” The tremor in his voice made your heart ache, and you reciprocated it with a loving verbal embrace. 

While his neck and shoulders were his levees that you so exquisitely chiseled away at, your nimble fingers on his lower back were the swinging wrecking ball that would ultimately set him free. And as they worked their final magic within the depths of his flesh, your lips at last touched his for the first time in months. 

“Open your eyes, Johnny.”

Solace. Deliverance within the blaze of a cerulean flame. 

Your hands immediately flew to cup the curves of his jaw, supporting him as his arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. The connection of your lips was nothing short of explosive. A supernova of passionate energy flowed between you as your bodies molded together. 

You broke the kiss only to scrutinize his face, validating that your subsequent labor had been accomplished.

The exultant smile that danced across your face was thankfully returned within the brightness of his eyes. Their color unmatched and without explanation in a world of need and understanding. 

“Hiya, Johnny.” 

He didn’t answer immediately, choosing to take in the details of your face as though he hadn’t seen it within a milenia.

“How ya do it, bonnie? How ya get me outta my own head like that?” The tremble in his voice had all but disappeared. He was calm. Confident. Steadfast.  

“You were lost, Johnny. Sometimes you gotta be lost if you wanna be found.” Your quiet response brought a tranquil smile to his face, his eyes continuing to soften as they gazed upon you.

“Aye. And tha’ Midas touch a yers. Donnae think I’ll ever get tired a that.”

You couldn’t restrain the chuckle that left your chest. Never had anyone ever referred to your touch in such a manner.

“Midas touch, eh? How long til I turn you to gold, huh?” You were confident enough in him to begin your usual banter. Soap had all but disappeared into the nether regions of his mind, and your Johnny had returned with full force. 

“Bonnie, in yer hands I’ll turn hard as a diamond.” His playful quip went straight to the core of your lower belly. You knew he needed time, he could be playful in mind but his body required more to regain its usual strength. 

“We’ll test that out later, Johnny. C’mere.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him down as you laid back into your cushioned palace. He buried his face into the valley of your chest, and never one to miss an impromptu moment he had to give his approval to the comfort they always granted.  

“Steamin Jesus, bonnie. Even th’finest Glasgowian pillows can’t compare ta this”

“Shut up, Johnny.”

His arms wrapped around you once more, his body relaxing against the radiating heat of your own. Your hands moved to the crested hawk atop his scalp and gracefully began to comb through its thickened mane. A quiet rumble of relaxation bellowed within his chest, signaling the last remnant being expelled from your freeing conquest. 

Effortlessly he closed his eyes and you slowly began to focus on the dull sounds that echoed around you; the rhythmic ticking of the clock, the quiet song of the birds outside, even the soft hum of the television was a welcoming reprieve. They all began to move into the background as your mind tried to recall the book you held in your hands earlier. But you were distracted once more by him. Johnny. Your Johnny. More specifically it was his breathing. Soft. Measured. Peaceful. You decided the book could stay lost for now, you had found your new twisted romance. And it was unlike anything you could find at any bookstore. It was your own.

 

@deadbranch

@sofasoap

@punishmepunisher

@d3athtr4psworld

[sfmothdaddy]

Soap SFW HC's pt 3

Johnny is not afraid of soft things, his place is full of throw pillows and blankets. He even has a few plushies in a spare room for kiddos when they visit.

He gets mock offended if you watch your favorite shows with out him, but he's not really mad.

The lad is bad at talking through movies though, he's got so many questions. Usually he tries to wait for commercial breaks or the end, but sometimes he just blurts them out.

Casually mention you like a food or a flavor of tea and it's stocked at his place. The one time you had a sore throat and asked if he had spearmint tea a few months a go? It's now a staple in his cuppoard. Told a friend you were craving Dairy Milk buttons? He's got at least one package at all times.

How he manages to always have a bottle of ironbru handy? Beyond you. But he does.

He keeps leaving adoption fliers in plain view, he wants a pet but with his work schedule he doesn't think it's feasible on his own. He's hoping you'll agree to adopt a pet with him.

He is constantly sending you tiktoks. Him and Gaz go back and forth so much that he had to mute his notifications.

Once he saw an add on tiktok where you buy a little highland cow plush and it helps rescue animals, so he bought five.... for himself. His nieces and nephews wanted one, and so they each got one for Christmas.

[evilhorse]

Take your soft soap and throw it on the junk pile with that word “partner,” Cap!

[bluegiragi]

puppy playtime!!

early access + nsfw on patreon

[masked-watcher]

My new favorite drawing of them I hope you enjoy looking at it as much as I enjoyed creating :)

[8-rae-rae-8]

Johnny steals his clothes all the fuckin time.

To be fair, Ghost never expressed that he didn't want all his jackets taken. But it should have been obvious he needed at least one jacket, he thought.

Just the one time, he wants to take something of Soap's. Something he probably wouldn't care about. Everything was too small, really. And something about that made his heart squeeze in his chest.

Maybe he wanted it more than he realized. He wanted to be closer, and borrowing clothes felt more intimate without the actual intimacy that he feared yet craved.

Simon took an older looking shirt. One without the tags. Something sleeveless that he could fit in much easier. As much of a different in their size as there was, it didn't feel constricting.

He felt like he could breathe.

And maybe it was silly. Stealing his boyfriend's clothes while he's off in the gym.. but Johnny did it back, so maybe it wasn't all that strange.

The shirt stretched a little, framing his muscles and the little bit of pudge on his belly. It fit just right to him, even if it really didn't.

It was comforting.

He'd have to steal his clothes more often. The appeal was certainly there.

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

"Better late than never" Part 12

Ghost gets a cold <3

Ghost got sent on a mission to Russia, it was supposed to be a quick job for Ghost and in theory, it was. He entered the hostile base situated on the northern side of the country, retrieved the documents Laswell needed and escaped unnoticed. The problem was that after he got to the safe “house” which most people would rather call a glorified shed in the middle of a forest, a goddamn blizzard began. 

So the chopper that was supposed to take him back to the base couldn’t land. Even Nikolai didn’t want to risk flying in that weather, so Ghost ended up stranded, freezing his ass off in that forsaken shack for three days until the storm passed and the chopper could land safely.

Not one day after he got back to base he was already feeling under the weather. The first thing Price asked him after he came back was if he wants to take a few free days. Of course, Ghost declined thinking he can power through it. Yet, he was feeling worse and worse with every passing hour and now he was miserable. He woke up with a stuffed nose, and a splitting headache while also sweating like he run a freaking marathon.

But did he go to Price to request a free day? Still no, he instead proceeded to get ready for training with Soap, ignoring the fact that he almost lost balance while putting his sweatpants on. He missed Soap even if he was gone only for a few days, especially since something shifted between them recently. He looked forward to that training and no flu was going to stop him.

He walked his way to the gym. Soap waited for him in the changing room already stretching, bending over and making his t-shirt ride up a bit. Ghost told himself that his heart beat fast only because he wasn’t feeling well.

“Lt! Ready for our workout?” Soap perked up when he noticed Ghost’s looming presence. “Although I must say, working with Gaz, Alex and Farah for those couple of days was a pleasant change.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ghost cringed at how rough his voice was, there is no way Soap didn’t hear how stuffed his nose was.

Soap’s smirk disappeared and he looked at Ghost unimpressed.

“I meant that they know their limits and don’t force themselves to do shit when they don’t feel well.” Soap crossed his arms.

“I don’t know what are you getting at, Sergeant.” He walked past Soap to the lifting bench, to avoid Johnny’s judging glare.

“You are sick, Ghost.” 

“I am fine.” He said, sniffling.

“You are already wet and you didn’t even move a muscle.”

“It’s hot here.”

“Ghost-”

“Will you spot me or do I have to ask someone else?” Completely ignoring Soap, he grabbed the bar.

The sergeant looked at the ceiling, asking whatever looked over them what did he do to deserve falling for someone as stubborn as Ghost. He went to stand behind the bench either way.

“Lik' talking tae a wall…” He muttered while focusing on Ghost’s weight lifting.

After a few lifts Ghost started to realise that it might have been a dumb decision. He had trouble breathing not only thanks to his runny nose but due to the fact that he had to breathe through his mouth, his balaclava got damp and clung to his face.

A cold shiver went through his body and he was ready to give up, and maybe go on a treadmill when he started coughing in a fit. His arms buckled under the weight and it would fall on his throat if Soap didn’t grab it in time.

When his hands were free he sat up straight still coughing.

“For fuck sake, Simon…” Soap patted Ghost’s back. 

“I am fine-” He coughs again.

“Ah kin see how fine ye are.” The Scot touched Ghost's hand, and was swatted right away. “Ye are boiling hot and nae in a good sense at the moment, ye are going to bed.”

“Johnny-”

“It’s not an argument. Ye either go to bed now or ah’m telling Price and he will put you on leave. Tae yer room- now.”

Ghost was a little taken aback at how commanding Soap got, but he also realized that he didn’t mind it at all, maybe he even liked it. Maybe. 

But Soap didn’t need to know that.

“Whatever, I have paper work to do either way.” He huffed and got up to go to his room.

“Sleep- not work, Ghost.”

Ghost only waved his hand and left.

But Soap wan now on a mission.

****

“Hi, maw! I have a wee question…” Soap called his mom, right after he left the gym.

He knew what he could do to get Simon back on his feet at a record speed. “Ah need yer soup recipe, my… friend is not feeling too good.”

“A friend huh? A special friend?.” His mother asked softly.

“A friend.”

“Och, yer something tae ca' me efter sic a lang time, ask fur hings 'n' nae even tell yer mither yer mukkers name!” 

“Mah, I called ye a week ago.”

“....”

He sighed resigned. “His name is Simon and he needs the soup, can ah get the recipe now? Please?”

“Ahh.. that’s a lovely name… Is he Scottish?”

“No…?”

“Well that's a shame… bit a'm sure he is a crakin' lad.”

“Mah.. he is not my boyfriend, don’t get any ideas.” No matter how Soap wished for it, they still were figuring out their… relationship.

“Och, bullshit ye wouldn’t cook juist fur ‘a friend’” 

“MAH!” Soap grabbed the bridge of his nose. “The soup, PLEASE.”

His mother chuckled.

“Ok, ok… let me think.”

****

Of course, the communal kitchen didn’t have all the ingredients his mother listed but he managed to make a good chicken soup non the less.

Making it took him some time, so when he entered Ghost’s room he expected the man to be asleep. It turned out to be wishful thinking, Ghost was sitting slouched at his desk, sniffling over his paperwork. His mask was nowhere to be seen as he had a handful of tissues pressed to his nose.

“First of all you were supposed to be resting, Two- aren’t you putting your balaclava on?”

“Do you want me to put it on?” He looked up at Soap.

Soap smiled softly when he saw Simon- very snooty and wet Simon, but Simon non the less.

“No.”

“Great, because it’s suffocating me.” He said relieved. “What is that?” Ghost pointed at the bowl Soap was carrying, reminding the sergeant how hot the thing is.”

“Ah, shit!” He placed it quickly on the desk, shaking his hand frantically. 

Ghost snickered at that, but it resulted in some coughing.

“Yer medicine.”

“You made that?” Ghost stirred it with the spoon.

Soap nodded.

Ghost tasted the soup and he sunk further into his chair as the stew warmed his body. It was pleasing and rich in flavour. 

“Thank you, Johnny… It’s nice.”

Soap beamed at the prize. “Ah asked my mah for help, she would make it way better. We don’t have everything on base, but I tried.”

Frow the way Ghost was devouring the soup, he didn’t mind at all.

Soap leaned on the desk.

“Will you please lie down after you eat?” Soap asked.

Ghost ran his hands over his face. “Soap, I am fine. I have been through way worse and I have work to do.” 

“Ye are a bambot! Bullets won’t kill ye, you will work yerself to death with that cold!”

“No one would care either way, Johnny.” He signed.

And that made Soap’s blood boil very quickly.

He grabbed his Simon by his shoulders and spun him in the chair so they were face to face.

“Wha-”

“Don’t ye fucking dare tae blether shit like that. Ah would care ‘n’ ah care aboot ye very much every bloody second. Not only me but our whole team, Simon.  We a' care, sae let yersel' be cared for.” Soap’s voice wasn’t leaving any room for argument, accent thickened, his eyes were set on Ghost’s- making sure that the man will understand how much he means to him. “You got it, Si?”

 Ghost looked at Johnny in awe, not able to break eye contact. He blushed not being able to understand what did he to deserve someone like Johnny in his life.

“Yes, sir.” Ghost finally whispered.

Both of them were surprised, by Ghost’s wording. Both blushing, not being able to hide behind a fake bravado or a mask. The eye contact broke.

Soap cleared his throat and stepped away.

“Then please go to bed already. Ah promise ye will feel better.”

Ghost did as he was told. He snuggled under the warm but rough military blankets. He left some space on the bed.

“Stay?” The question was hesitant- like the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Always.”

So Soap lied on top of the blankets, not yet sure how much touching Ghost wants.

He seemed content with that arrangement.

“When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to get sick.” The confession was unexpected, even by Simon. It just slipped out, his mind wanting to share with Johnny, explain why he acts the way he does.

Soap turned to look at Ghost. 

“What does that even mean, Si?”

Ghost fidgeted with the edge of the blanket.

“You don’t have to explain-”

“I want to.” He cut in. “Just need to collect my thoughts… When I would get sick as a kid, my father would get furious. Call me useless or weak… He would get… aggressive whenever I would say I wasn’t feeling well.” He could feel Soap shifting beside him. “So I started to just pretend I am fine whenever I felt bad, but mom would always know something was wrong. My old man wouldn’t let her take care of me, saying she is going to make me even more useless. So… yeah.”

There was a silence and Simon began to worry that maybe he had overshared, made Soap uncomfortable.

But it wasn’t the case.

“Can I hug you?” 

Ghost didn't know that he needed it, but now that Soap asked he really wanted that hug.

“Yhm” That was enough for Soap to give him a bone-crushing hug. Ghost grabbed Soap’s shirt and hold on to it, hiding his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck. He took a deep breath of Soap’s cologne and the smell of gunpowder. This was nice.

“I would love to skin your father alive.” Soap squeezed him harder.

It made Ghost giggle.

“Get in line.”

I had SO much fun writing Soap's mom! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did <3 Have a great day/night!

[helenedraws]

see? they're alright and together always

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Just a Taste | Johnny "Soap" McTavish x Reader

Follow up to Boyfriend!Soap drabble. Summary: You've given Johnny permission to fuck you while you sleep. He needs a little encouragement. Warnings: Somnophilia, consensual somno, pussy eating, dirty talk, PiV (unprotected, wrap it up folks). Wordcount: 1.8k [AO3]

CoD/141 Masterlist Main Masterlist

Johnny can’t sleep.

Ever since you told him he could fuck you while you slept, it’s been on his mind every time the two of you go to bed. But every time he tries to muster the courage to do it, he chickens out. It’s like an itch at the back of his brain, taunting him mercilessly.

He rolls over, looking at you as you sleep with your back to him, stark naked with the covers loosely draped around your middle. He watches you for a few minutes, trying to ignore the way his dick twitches when you let out a soft whine in your sleep as you stretch.

“Depraved cunt,” Soap groans, reprimanding himself as he wraps his thick fingers around his shaft.

He lets out a pained moan as he pumps his length at a leisurely pace. His fingers are coated in precome already and he blushes at the realisation of how keyed up he is.

“You’re a fuckin’ siren, temptin’ me with that kinky little idea,” he breathes into the space between you as he picks up the pace, breath coming in ragged bursts as he tries not to jostle the bed too hard.

“Just wanna stuff my cock in yer slick little hole,” he groans a little louder this time as he feels his stomach flutter with his impending release.

He’s about to whisper more filth when you move suddenly.

Soap watches in awe as you roll onto your back, tits jiggling in the moonlight that spills in from the window. He tries to stop the inevitable, gripping the base of his cock as a sweet, soft sigh slips from your lips.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he rolls onto his back, exploding over his abdomen as he comes hard. His balls tighten as hot ropes of come splatter across his skin, his chest heaving as he sees stars. He huffs despondently as he feels his come cooling uncomfortably on his belly as you let out a soft snore.

He laughs to himself as he tries to muster the energy to get up and clean himself off.

“Temptress,” he growls under his breath as you sleep seemingly oblivious next to him.

~*~

You sigh as you hear the faucet running in your en-suite. You were certain Soap would do it this time. Ever since you told him he could fuck you while you slept you’ve been desperate for him to just do it already.

But there’s something painfully sweet at the way Soap is struggling to take the plunge and just use you. Last night you slept in just a pretty pair of pink cotton panties. He’d gotten as far as grinding against your ass before ducking out to wank in the bathroom.

Tonight, you thought sleeping nude would have tipped him over the edge. If anything, he seemed even more hesitant to touch you. You need to get creative.

~*~

Every day since, you’d put on a show for him. When you came home you had stripped bare, before putting on one of his old ratty t shirts and nothing else. Every other movement meant Soap had a front row seat to your ass, or your bare pussy, or sometimes a combination of both.

The worst part: You wouldn’t let him touch you.

Tonight, you had been sprawled out on the sofa, legs spread as you had your head in his lap as you watched TV. He’d tried to subtly cop a feel, his dick achingly hard as he trailed his fingertips up the inside of your thigh.

“Not feeling it babe,” you had whined, batting his hand away just as he reached the apex of your thighs.

“Hen, come on,” he had groaned, looking down at you with a pained look on his face. He had felt the damp evidence of your arousal, you made sure of it before batting his hand away.

“Going to go to bed,” you had yawned dramatically before sauntering off to bed, making sure to raise your arms up in an exaggerated stretch, baring your ass to him before disappearing into the bedroom.

Now, Soap is curled around you, dick pressed against the valley of your ass as you rock backwards on it, seemingly fast asleep. You’re still in his t-shirt, and he knows he won’t be able to hold back tonight. He can smell himself on you as he buries his nose just behind your ear.

“Hen?”

You grunt noncommittally as you feign sleep, wriggling away from him a little before turning on your front, purposefully riding your shirt up to expose your ass and lower back.

You hear him exhale heavily behind you and you panic, worried he’s about to give up and either wank alone or just go to sleep. You make a split-second decision and hitch one of your knees up, gasping sleepily as you feel cool air hit your cunt.

“Fuck it,” you hear him growl and you have to stop yourself from reacting as you feel the mattress dip behind you as he repositions, “Goin’ to hell for his.”

You feel him gently, gingerly, drag his calloused fingertips along your skin. They catch and drag over the backs of your heels, scraping up and over the meat of your calves. You can’t help but shudder as they weave over the tender skin on the back of your knees.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this, can’t help myself,” Johnny groans low as you feel his broad palms press into the backs of your thighs, spreading them out to expose your dripping cunt to him. You bite your lip, desperate to keep up the act of being sound asleep as his thumbs push your pillowy cheeks apart.

“Look at that bonnie little cunt,” he whispers, and you clench, unable to stop yourself reacting to his slurred praise, “Just a taste, that’s all I need.”

You tremble in anticipation as you feel his broad form settle between your spread legs, hot breath fanning against your thighs as he inches his mouth closer to your dripping folds.

Johnny’s tongue swirls around your entrance; the blunt tip teasing and cruel in the way he presses hard enough to make you clench, but not deep enough to breach your hole.

“Like fuckin’ honey,” Johnny groans as he continues to tease you, lapping up your slick as he settles further into the apex of your thighs, “Still asleep hen?”

You bite your lip as you shudder, trying to stay as still as you can as you feel him kiss your folds gently. His soft lips and tender tongue devour your slick cunt as he takes a heady inhale of your cunt.

“Wonder if I can make you come like this lass? Yeah, I bet I can.”

You try not to squirm as you feel his tongue flick over your clit. It’s probing, teasing, torture as he sucks it between his lips. The wet push and pull of his mouth on your sensitive bud is almost too much as you let a soft moan slip from your lips as you try and muffle it in the pillow beneath you.

“Yeah, you like that?” Johnny mumbles against your cunt as he brings two fingers up to your core, “Dirty lass,” he huffs as he pushes them deep inside you. You whimper as you feel the spill of arousal flood through you. You can’t hold back with the way Johnny is pumping his thick fingers inside you, suckling at your clit, and groaning deep as he ruts into the mattress below him.

“There you go, good lass,” he growls as he rakes his teeth over your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge, “Come for me hen.”

And you do.

Your whole body quakes with ripples of pleasure as you clamp down on Johnny’s fingers. Your teeth sink into the pillowcase as you stifle the scream that bubbles in your throat.

“Such a nasty girl,” Johnny groans as he eases his fingers out, “Be a shame not to fuck your desperate little cunt right now.”

You try not to squeal in anticipation at his admission. You’re so ready for this, so desperate for him to use you.

“Johnny,” you sigh, trying to sound sleepy as you squirm beneath him, and you feel him freeze behind you. You smirk to yourself as you wriggle beneath him, your knees pulling up under you as you bare yourself to him, silently begging him to fuck you.

“Sure you’re not awake lass?” He chuckles, already lining his weeping tip against your core. You feel the way his tip stretches you out instantly and you’re gushing for it. You offer him a soft “hmpf” in response that only compels Soap to press his thick cock deep inside you. You cry out at the stretch and there’s no concealing the fact you’re awake any longer.

“There she is,” Johnny growls as he slides his hands over your ass cheeks, landing on your hips as he pulls you back onto his thick length, “Knew you weren’t asleep.”

“Johnny,” you whine as he spears you from behind as he snaps his hips forward, “Jus’ wanted you to have fun, use me.”

“I know hen,” he rasps through gritted teeth, “Fucking idiot I am, next time I’ll fuck you stupid, wake you up as I split you on my cock.”

“Fuck yes,” you whine as he fucks down into you hard and fast, punching the air from your lungs as you look over your shoulder.

“Gonna come in this tight little cunt lass,” Johnny wheezes as you feel his brutal pace stutter as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck me Johnny, fuck me!” You scream as your orgasm hits you like a truck. You cry out as you come hard around his cock, clenching hard as you fall limp into the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck!” Johnny exhales with a low grunt as he empties his balls, coating your insides as he continues to rut into your sopping cunt as he fills you with his spend.

Your cunt clamps down on him as you milk him dry and it seems like a lifetime before both of your trembling, overstimulated bodies still.

“Fuckin’ bewitched me lass, that was somethin’ else,” Johnny wheezes as he falls forward, lips pressed against the back of your neck as he slides his softening cock out of you.

“Glad you liked it,” you huff as you feel his weight bear down on you as you fall forward, letting his broad form press you down into the mattress.

“Fuckin’ loved it,” he says with a huff as he nips at the column of your neck.

You lie there for some time, sleep pulling at your eyelids as you try and fight off the allure of sexually sated contentment.

“C’mon Johnny, let’s get showered and head to bed,” you say wearily as you let his large form smother you from behind.

“Aye, lass,” he breathes against your cooling skin, “After you.”

CoD/141 MasterlistMain Masterlist

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

I love the thought of ghost and soap checking each other out during missions. Like when ghost is out killing but soap is just watching ghost hips movements and is red in the face while ghost watched how soap pulls a gun to an enemy head and tells them to shut up and gets on their knees all ghost thinks is I would get on my knees for him if he asked me.

And the accidental kisses soap leaves ghost are so cute and leave them both flustered and gaz with more blackmail. (Got the med soap AU I believe the bad patient was graves and after soap left they really just stared him down price looked the other way )

I actually think I have a prompt going on about that exact scenario somewhere in my drafts. I can’t find it but I’m positive it exists and I will post it once I find it. But anyway!

I reckon Gaz makes fun of Soap all the time because when they do recon missions or missions where it doesn’t really need their entire attention it’s almost a guarantee that you can catch Soap checking Ghost out.

His eyes are just pinned to the man, whether he’s making a kill or just standing there, Soap is staring like he’s about to die and wants Ghost to be the last thing he sees. It’s hilarious for Gaz but also so disgusting cause he doesn’t wanna watch his friend eyefuck their lieutenant.

Ghost on the other hand seems to do it when they are on serious missions. He won’t do it as obviously or as blatantly as Soap does but he can’t help the way his eyes seek the man out and linger when he’s making shots from miles away. It’s disconcertingly arousing but Ghost is so far gone he doesn’t really care.

One particularly memorable moment for Ghost is when they finally manage to capture a target they’ve been after for months now. He was slippery fucker and they were all beyond tired of him. Ghost is quick to forget his exhaustion though when Soap’s pointing a gun at the assholes face, expression angry and tired as he tells the guy to get on his knees.

His voice is overworked and raw and it’s doing things to Ghost that he doesn’t wanna look at in a dark and dingy room with the enemy kneeling in front of them. But he knows he’d do damn near anything if Soap were to ask him with that voice of his.

On the second part of that… prompt, thing, I think Soap giving Ghost accidental kisses would eventually become just a regular thing between them. Ghost hates to admit that he enjoys them but he gets notably upset when Soap either forgets or decides not to give him one. Nobody brings it up but they all think it’s really funny.

Gaz isn’t as ballsy as Soap so he wouldn’t dare bring it up to the man himself but he for sure brings it up to Soap and teases him about it a lot. Soap only really gets flustered because he can’t believe Ghost would get so worked up about missing out on a kiss from him.

And the bad patient was definitely Graves. He got way too handsy when Soap showed his usual kindness and Gaz - being the amazing, supportive best friend that he is - immediately ran to find the whole of the 141 and ratted the American out.

He even told Price because he knew the man had a soft spot for the medic, so he was less likely to punish the guys as severely - if at all - for what was bound to happen to Graves.

The next time Graves is in Soap’s med room the American is unusually quiet and jumpy, keeping it strictly professional and trying to be as curt as he possibly can.

Soap figures out real quick what has happened and he can’t help the way he flusters whenever the 141 show up in the med rooms after that. Not that he’s complaining of course.

[brewed-pangolin]

Alright, I'm falling down something fierce for some Soft Soap, and I need some serious fluff practice.

You got ideas or requests, throw 'em at me and I'll do by best to get them out throughout the week. My only asking is to keep them short and sweet, prefering to do drabbles/headcanons as I'm just trying to get the juices flowing 😏 (I also can't write short fics to save my life). Much love y'all and stay thirsty! 💛