#black soap bundle

[mysticconnoisseurpeace]

Because Dads Deserve The Best (And Safest) Care!

While fathers may say little, their love can be felt when their kids need them the most. Dads are the unsung heroes of our lives. They provide for us, protect us, and inspire us to reach for the stars. They're often the disciplinarians, the steady hand in times of trouble, and the source of unconditional love. But who looks out for them?

This Father's Day, let's show Dad how much we care with a gift that's not only thoughtful but also safe for his skin. Dr. Natural offers a range of natural products that are gentle, soothing, and packed with the power of nature's finest ingredients.

Here's why Dr. Natural products are the perfect Father's Day gift:

Natural Ingredients: Free from harsh chemicals, these products are kind to Dad's skin.

Soothing and Nourishing: Dr. Natural products provide comfort and nourishment, leaving Dad's skin feeling healthy and refreshed.

Variety for Every Need: From cleansing natural castile soap to hydrating black soap, Dr. Natural has something for every Dad.

Exclusive Father's Day Giveaway!

To show Dad some extra love, Dr. Natural is offering a special Father's Day giveaway! Stay tuned to our social media pages for details on how to enter and win a fantastic Dr. Natural gift basket filled with pampering products.

Dr. Natural Products Dad Will Love:

Pure Castile Liquid Soap: This incredibly versatile soap cleans everything from dishes and surfaces to windows and Dad himself! Made with natural ingredients like coconut oil, it offers a gentle clean with delightful fragrances like lavender, citrus, or almond liquid soap

Activated Charcoal Soap: This chemical-free soap tackles blemishes and deeply cleanses pollutants from Dad's pores, leaving his skin feeling healthy and refreshed.

Black Soap: Does Dad struggle with dry skin? Our Black Soap provides deep hydration and combats dryness with natural ingredients like shea butter. Its available in liquid body soap or gentle bar soap

For even more pampering, check out Dr. Natural's incredible bundles! Get Dad hooked on our Black Soap Bundle or let him explore different fragrance options with the Castile Bundle.

Show him you care with Dr. Natural's gentle, effective skincare made with nature's finest ingredients. It's the perfect way to say, 'thanks' for everything he does while treating him to products that are safe for his skin.

Use the code ‘DADSDAY20’ for 20% off sitewide! 

Happy Father's Day from Dr. Natural!

[ashenoaktradingcompany]

Our Spa Bundle is up! The whole thing is about $10 cheaper than buying it a la carte, however we've only made 6 of them so be sure to grab one before they're gone!

Each bundle contains:

One (1) shimmering gemstone heart soap, sweetly scented with the aroma of berries and cream One (1) rose scented bath bomb, formulated to make your bathwater extra silky One (1) 6.5 ounce bag of our Bacchanal bath salts One (1) 6.5 ounce bag of our Persephone's Garden bath salts Two (2) chocolate scented shower steamers (not currently available for individual sale)

[charliemwrites]

Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️? Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️.

Johnny didn’t mean to. He swears he didn’t mean to, please understand.

You’re his favorite server at his favorite bar. He finds every excuse he can to drag one or all of his team there. Yes he likes their company, of course. Likes spending time with them, laughing and joking and building bonds outside of life or death situations. But you are the highlight of those nights.

You smile so sweetly, a little cheeky twist whenever he gets all of the 141 there together. You know all their names - or their callsigns at least. Call Price “captain” with a giggle whenever he groans at you to stop calling him that.

Johnny adores you. Sometimes when he’s alone at the table - the others off smoking or playing pool - you’ll stop by. You don’t have to, but you do, chatting until one of the other servers teases to stop flirting and help bus.

You always blush when they shout that, but never deny it. Leave him with one last warm smile and a promise to top up his drink for listening to you ramble. As if he couldn’t live with your voice in his ears all the time.

You tell him about your masters program. Complain about shitty customers. Admit you broke up with your last boyfriend for calling your hobbies a “silly waste of time.” The movies you’ve seen or watch for nostalgia. He knows when your playlist is on at the bar because you spend your entire shift bouncing and mouthing along whenever you’re not handling a customer.

It’s a slow infection. A creeping, insidious thing that seeps into his blood and corrupts him from the inside out. This awful, twisting devotion for you.

He knows to be careful, loathe to be one of those men you avoid like the plague, trading with other servers to handle. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He’s happy with the flirting and the little kindnesses, happy that you always light up when you see him. That you breathe a quiet “thank you” and squeeze his arm the one time he steps in one a handshake customer on your behalf.

It’s enough. He reminds himself that it’s enough. He doesn’t deserve more than you’re willing to give. He can’t give you the life you deserve yet.

But then one day things go wrong. So, so wrong.

There’s been a rowdy group of men that have been harassing the younger servers all night. You stepped in, older and more experienced, practiced at not giving them the reactions they want. It’s another of the things Johnny loves about you. You don’t need a mask like Ghost to hide your face.

One them especially tries antagonize you, even manages to earn a sharp word when he says something crass. Johnny tenses when the guy (buddies following suit) starts getting loud, aggressive. Towering over you when he knocks over his barstool, trying to intimidate.

Johnny shoves the guy away from you before it can get much farther. Relief washes over you as the owner, a big burly man, finally makes an appearance and kicks the lot of them out.

“A whiskey on the house for Soap,” you ask the bartender, hand pressed to your chest. “My knight in a cotton sweater.”

He smiles for your sake, mind buzzing to see you so shaken up.

“Alright, lass?”

“Yeah, just spooked me is all,” you sigh, a hand to your cheek now. “Think I’m gonna step out for some air. Thank you again, John.”

He lets you go, even though every molecule in his body urges him to bundle you up under his arm, safe and sound. Take you somewhere quiet to smooth your feathers.

Something doesn’t feel right.

He manages to wait exactly one minute and seventeen seconds before he tells a blasted Gaz that he’s going to the bathroom. When he steps out the back door, you’re being cornered by the man, two of his friends hanging back telling him to “leave it alone” but not actually doing a fucking thing to stop him.

So Johnny does. Honestly, he blacks out for a second. The next thing he knows, he’s cradling you in his arms, his knuckles stinging and bloody. The men are nowhere to be found but there’s a pool of blood in the alleyway. You’re unconscious, fainted sometime in the scuffle - or maybe hit your head.

Johnny isn’t himself. He’s not thinking. He’s used to keeping his cool with guns pressed to his head, but this is different. This is you.

He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t but it’s the best he can come up with when he just got a firsthand look at how dangerous the world is for you when he’s not around.

Please understand. He has to keep you safe.

[brewed-pangolin]

MDNI 18+ (totally unedited. I'm going down with the gym rat soap ship)

Imagine being woken up in the middle of the night by Gym Rat Soap burying himself between your thighs.

His mouth fully encapsulating over your mound, sliding his tongue between the velvety flesh of your folds to urge you awake and pinpoint that sensitive bundle of nerves just around your entrance.

"Johnny," you mumbled. Voice hoarse, muffled in drowsy wakefulness while your body vigorously reacted to the pleasure of his languid expertise.

"Sorry, bonnie. Jus' needed a little snack."

You felt him smile against your throbbing womanhood. Words dampened by the cusp of your heat and lessened through the delicate Egyptian cotton that loosely draped over him.

A silent protest quickly ran over the supple flesh over your lips. Only to be immediately plucked away. Replaced with strangled gasp as he lowered his mouth further and plunged his broad tongue into the fluttering hole of your cunt.

"Ooohhh, my God!"

Arching your back off the bed, your bellowing mewls wafting up into the crown molding of the bedroom as your body writhed beneath him. His hands holding you steadily against the mattress as he leisurely thrusted his tongue into your soaking canal.

Your eyes were just beginning to adjust to the darkness that hung heavy around the room. Only the soft light of the moon illuminated the brighter shades within the dense blackness. Casting elongated shadows along the bedsheets as the distinct crest of Soap's mohawk peeked between the covered valley of between your thighs.

A sudden adjustment to the angle of his tongue had you clenching your thighs tightly around his head. A throaty growl then reverberated into the deep crevices of your folds in unfettered retaliation, bucking your hips against him as you suddenly took notice of a most peculiar synthetic sensation between your thighs.

Immediately, your hand flew to pull the sheet away. And you were met with the familiar blue eyes of your Johnny set behind a very prominent and very darkened red brow.

"Johnny. What the fuck is on your face?"

And as if he were abruptly pulled out of a deep trance, he reluctantly withdrew his tongue from your core and met your gaze with an impish and slick covered grin.

"What'ya think, bonnie? Ya like it?"

"Are you-, is that a mask?"

"Aye. Ghost gave it t'me."

Your expression then shifted to utter bewilderment. Lips curling into a perplexed smile as you took in the details of the demon like covering in the blanketing darkness.

"And did he give you strict instructions to wear it only while eating me out at 2:30 in the morning?"

"No. Well, no' exactly."

Narrowing your eyes at him, your lips curled into a half cocked smirk as you extended your hand to get a feel of the hellish veil atop his forehead.

"Well, gotta hand it to him, Johnny. I kinda like it."

"Aye? 'Nough fer me t'keep it on?"

"Yeah. You're like my little pussy demon."

He retorted with another growl. Your fingers fisting into his hair to guide him back down to your core as his blue eyes glistened in the dim light, accentuated by the red trim pronounced brow.

"I'll make sure to pass the word, bonnie." He crooned lowly into the silken walls of your heat.

"You better. But for now, I want you to get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am."

Even beneath the mask, you could see the smile etched into his cheeks. Keeping the sheets pulled back to take in the sight of your Scottish demon feasting like a fiend on your soaking soul.

Gym Rat Soap Masterlist

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 30: Facesitting

You're Welcome

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, kissing, cussing, oral sex, overstimulation, squirting

Word Count: ~1.2k

Kinktober Masterlist

The shower water is hot on your skin as you rinse the soap off. You step out and reach for one of the fluffy black towels, wrapping it around yourself. 

Elvis hears you humming in the bathroom before he sees you. He's got a few minutes until he has to go downstairs for the show, so he wanted to come give you a quick kiss, but you're not in the room. 

When you open the door, you gasp and put your hand on your heart. 

“God, babe, you scared me. Thought some intruder had come in while I was in the shower.”

“An intruder in a jumpsuit?” He chuckles at the idea of someone else wearing one of his suits. You look at him standing there in the black outfit with the green shoulders and gold accents. All of his jumpsuits are hot, but this one is particularly sexy for some reason. 

“Mmm a good looking intruder.” You walk over and go to put your arms around him. He backs away from you. 

“Don't get my suit wet, doll.” You pout a little and then back up. 

“Alright then.” You unwrap the towel, drop it to the floor, and stand in front of him naked. “I'm not wet.” 

“Bullshit.” He walks over to you quickly and pulls you in close to him, crashing his lips into yours. You kiss him deeply, tongues moving wildly together as the gold accents on his suit rub against your bare skin. His right hand snakes in between your legs and he drags his finger up your slit. “Ya feel pretty wet to me, doll.” 

He goes back to kissing you as he pushes a finger up into your pussy, his thumb finding your clit easily. You moan into his mouth and grab the back of his hair. Your other hand goes to the zipper on his suit but he pulls away, shaking his head. 

“No time. C’mere.” You peel yourself off of him and follow him over to the bed, where he lays down on his back. He grabs your hips and pulls you until he gets you where he wants you with a knee on either side of his head. “You're gonna let daddy lick you until he's had his fill, you understand, doll?” 

“Mhmm, yes daddy.” You half-moan as he dips his tongue into your slit. He goes to work pushing it into you again and again as you whimper and grab the headboard. Eventually he moves up to your clit and starts to make circles over it. 

“Oh, fuck, Elvis.” You whimper and grind on his face as your orgasm approaches, but he lifts your hips off of him a little. 

“No squirting, doll. Ya got it? Need to keep this suit dry.” You groan and nod. You almost always squirt when he eats you like this, but you know he won't be happy if you disobey. 

He presses his tongue into you a few more times, so deep that his nose is on your clit. He moans, thoroughly enjoying the taste of you as he works. This is his favorite thing to do because he loves to make you scream and lose control. You're usually so cool and collected, but when he does this, you moan and whimper and yelp like a bitch in heat. He lifts your hips a little again and licks a slow stripe up your pussy, settling again at the bundle of nerves at the top for a bit before he pulls back and blows on it gently. 

“You gonna cum for daddy?” He moves his tongue on you slowly and sensually, almost making out with your clit. 

“Fuck… yes daddy… tryin’ not to- oh fuck!” The tight coil of your release snaps and you cum hard on his face, shuddering as the electric heat rushes from your center out to your fingers and toes and back again. Somehow, you don't squirt. 

“Good girl.” You go to move off of his face and he wraps his arms around your thighs to hold you tightly in position. “No ma’am. Daddy isn't finished with you yet.” 

You whine loudly as he continues licking your swollen clit and it starts to harden again. He makes little infinity symbols over you and then shoves his tongue up into you deep again. You slam your hand on the wall and shake. 

“Daddy, please… I can't…” You're sweating and panting trying to keep your body in control. 

“Yes you can. Daddy says so.” He sucks on your clit and pinches it between his lips, knowing this will send you over the edge. 

“God-fuck-shit!!” You scream as you cum on his face again, the pleasure hitting you like a runaway train. Again, you manage to keep yourself from squirting. Your whole body trembles and you look down at him. “Daddy… please…”

His blue eyes look up at yours from where his face is buried in your pussy. He knows you're begging him to quit, but also that you love this just as much as he does and you'll be disappointed if he stops. He knows he's right when he lifts your hips and you whimper. 

“One more, doll. Let daddy love you.” You nod as the sweat droplets run down between your breasts and on your lower back. He goes back to licking you feverishly and you feel another orgasm begin to build. 

“Fuck, daddy…” You whine, your forehead pressed against the wall as you shake. He pushes two fingers up into you and pumps them in and out, rubbing against your g-spot. “Oh God…”

The pleasure builds and builds, the rubber band pulling tighter and tighter in your core as your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You grind against his face and he holds your thighs just long enough for you to feel the edge of your orgasm. 

“Oh, daddy, FUCKKKK!” You yell and he flips you quickly onto your back as you cum harder than you ever have and squirt all over the place. Your whole body quakes as you moan loudly and the pleasure overwhelms you, knocking out your hearing and damn near causing you to black out. When you finally come to, he's laying on his back on the bed laughing. 

“What?”

“I'm soaked.” You sit up and look at him and he's right. 

“Oh God, I'm sorry!” But he just laughs and laughs. You try to roll over to him, but your whole body is wrecked in the best way possible. 

“Don't apologize, doll.” He rolls over and looks at you. “I knew it would happen. It’s okay. I love you and I love making you cum.”

You lean into his touch as he holds the side of your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. 

“EP, ya comin’?” He looks at the clock on the wall. 

“Shittttt.” He kisses you quick and then stands up, walking to the door. When he pulls it open, the guy at the door laughs. 

“Boss, what the hell-”

“Don't ask.” You lay on the bed giggling, still trying to recover. He turns and hollers back into the room. “Love you baby. Thanks for the shower.” 

“You're welcome!” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 08

Kinktober Masterlist ad vitam aeternam - "to eternal life" Johnny "Soap" MacTavish/141 x gn!reader Kinks > mind control, vampires, blood-sucking Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

The 141 vampire coven is terrorizing tiny villages in Northumberland, but you work nights and you really need this job. When a cute guy named Johnny offers to walk you home, you feel grateful for the free security. Unfortunately, you start feeling drowsy and confused. Where do you live, again? “It’s okay, bonnie. I’ll make sure you get there safe and sound.” 

No specific body traits or genitalia are mentioned. Gender neutral pronouns used. The only gendered nicknames are when Soap refers to the reader as "bonnie" or "hen" but no use of "lass" or "girl".

This work trip had definitely taken a turn. You’d expected to be at the north edge of England for about three weeks, but it was going on three months for this project with no end in sight. You were staying close to Northumberland National Park, helping map an updated migratory route for the bat colony that roosted on The Sill of Hadrian’s Wall. However, as animals often do, the bats made their own schedule for when they wanted to appear, and you hadn’t collected nearly enough data to feed to the tracker model. 

But, you weren’t complaining too loudly. Your cottage was located in a barely-there village called Elishaw, and it was as romantic as it could be. The only problem was that, after the evening sun set and the bats had all returned to their roosts, the closest place to get a pint was a three kilometer hike on a two lane road with no lights, signs, or footpaths. 

In the daytime, the view of the area was lovely. Rolling hills, black forests, and green sheep-dotted fields stretched out before you as far as the eye could see. Everyone who drove past you would wave, and you would wave back. It was lovely… when the sun was shining. But, now, as winter chased away the warmth of autumn, it brought grey clouds and a constantly setting sun, making the nights frigid and windy.

It was spooky the first time you’d gone at night, but now that you’d ripped off the proverbial bandage, the second time was no big deal. At this point, you’d been down to the Redesdale pub dozens of times, and you often walked alone, in the middle of the night, bundled up like an arctic explorer, drunker than you’d ever been.  

Tonight was one of those nights. 

“Are ye sure ye’ll be alright by yersel’, hen?” Thomas, the barkeep worried over you in his semi-local Berwickian accent.

“Yeah, Tom,” you smiled up at him, “I only had two pints. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be home before I know it.”

“There’s been talk of wild dogs takin’ to eatin’ the Kilpatrick’s sheep, Tom. ‘S not safe for a visitor to go alone, ye ken?” A man’s voice, Scottish instead of Northumbrian, piped up from the back of the bar. 

You hadn’t even realized there were other people with you and Tom. But, the grizzled barkeep smiled knowingly, 

“Ah, Johnny. Take ‘em back with ye, lad. Make sure ye get home safe and sound. I’ll worry the night away if ye dinnae go together.”

“No trouble, Tom. Headed that way, besides. C’mon, bonnie. Tha’s us, then,” Johnny paid for your tab and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the pub with a speed and ease that should have been alarming. 

But, you had to admit, it was nice to have an escort on your scary road for a change. 

Except… this wasn’t your road.

“Hey, I thought that was the way back there?” You pointed through the trees at the path you usually took, the one that was wide open and clearly visible, not the path through the dark forest.  

“Dinnae fash, yourself, bonnie. It’s a wee shortcut,” Johnny assured you. 

His smile was so easy to believe. The light that shone in his bright blue eyes was intoxicating, and his body was statuesque. He told you all about himself - the town he was from, where he went to school, how he was a sergeant in the RAF. It was fascinating. So thrilling, in fact, you came to your senses about thirty minutes into your trip, knowing you should be seeing landmarks, and yet you were even deeper in the woods than you’d been when you started. 

“You feelin’ alright, hen? Lookin’ a little puggled. Think you’ll make the trip, though. Just a bit further.”

“Where… um, where are… you… taking me?” Your words slurred together, and you felt like you were trapped between being awake and being asleep, knowing you couldn’t have drank enough to make you muddle your speech.

“Gonnae stop by my place for a moment,” Johnny pointed to a blackstone cairn that sat on the side of a hill, “Should only be a wee minute. Do ya wanna come in with me?”

When he asked you the last question, he made a point to make you meet his gaze, and when you did, his eyes invaded your mind. You felt as if you couldn’t look away, and the only word that could come out of your mouth was a yes. 

You didn’t want to go inside that creepy fucking cairn. There was no way this was actually his house. But, you followed him, your body putting one foot in front of the other without needing for your mind to be on board with the plan. 

“You ken,” he talked to you as he held your hand, “Tomorrow’s Samhain. Gonnae celebrate with a wee bonfire, maybe a few more drinks. Want me to tell my mates to set the table for one more?”

Again, your brain blanked out when you replied to him. Had you said yes again? What was happening to you?

Finally, you made it to the mouth of the cairn, and a crude wooden door blocked your entrance. Johnny pulled it open and held it for you, waving his hand in a ladies-first sort of sweep. You couldn’t help but obey. So, you walked into the dark stone hut, discovering that the inside was filled with flaming logs in a round well in the center and rows of lit candles surrounding the space. 

“Hey!” Johnny called out into the crude building, “We’ve got company, lads.”

Too quickly, three other men appeared in the room. You wanted to say that they walked or that they ran, but they didn’t. You could lie to yourself about that later, but you knew they had just suddenly fucking spawned there. Your body, however, failed to react in shock like you wanted to. 

They were gorgeous; just as handsome and well-muscled as Johnny, but their eyes seemed less kind. There was something predatory about their faces, especially the one with the beard. He seemed cold in a way that was beyond cruelty. It made you shiver more than the cold wind ever could. 

“Well done, Johnny,” the bearded one spoke, reaching out to stroke your cheek, “Such a pretty thing, hm?” 

You wanted to pull your face away from his touch, but your will was muted, your desire gone, and your sense of self-preservation completely absent from your mind. The only thing you could still do, it seemed, was speak to them. But, even then, it was hard to form the words. 

“Johnny asked me to come for dinner. I hope that I’m not intruding,” you went for politeness over screaming your bloody head off. No one would hear you all the way out here anyway. Maybe if you were nice to them, they’d let you leave.

“Not at all, love,” the bearded one said again, taking your coat from your shoulders and tossing it down on a chair. 

You felt Johnny’s lips begin to trail their way up your neck as he stood behind you. He was kissing you with a hot passion, his teeth dragging across your smooth flesh. Then, his hands reached around to grope your chest, fondling your nipples under your shirt, pinching them in his hands cruelly.

“How could you intrude?” The tall, Black man replied, his teeth straight and sharp and gleaming in the low light of the room, “Guests are always welcome here, especially when they smell as delicious as you do.” 

“Besides,” his gigantic, blond friend responded, “You’re not here for dinner, love. You are dinner.”

As you saw the fangs drop into the hollow of the blond’s mouth, you felt Johnny’s set on your neck. He bit down into you and began to suck from you, taking gulps of your hot, crimson blood down his throat. It felt orgasmic, but there was something so very wrong about it, too. A dying part of you was yelling at you to run, but that voice was muted by the urgency of your pleasure.

Then, panic welled up in your chest. Who were these men? How did you get here? You needed your phone, something, anything to call the emergency line and get the cops over here. 

Yet, you were motionless. Your brain felt like it had finally been washed away to a blank, empty slate. It was painful to be drained from your neck and wrists and, now, from your chest as the immense blond lifted your shirt to suckle from your flesh, biting into your nipple with his two, long fangs, and draining your life from you. But, you let him. You let all of them feed and fondle you. You were in their thrall, and there was no escape.

You felt tears roll down your cheeks as you realized you weren’t going home again. You were prey to a coven of vampires, and you’d be lucky if they just killed you quickly rather than prolonged your life. 

Johnny shoved his hand down the front of your pants and began to play with your sex, moaning when he found its warmth. He pulled his mouth away from his meal for a moment and asked a question to the man with the beard.

“Can we keep this one, sir? Tastes too damn good.”  

“Aye, Johnny,” his leader told him, lifting your chin with his thick finger, “The ritual’s tomorrow, and I know you’ve been a good lad. So, just this once, we can keep ‘em.”

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Pack 141 - Fae!Soap Headcanons

Tags: monster au, Fae!Soap, poly 141, sfw, fluff, general lore, Soap's mom? for a minute at least, fae lore I roughly researched.

-Soap's mother was a stubborn and superstitious woman. When her baby boy was born with a caul over his face, her heart seized with dread. She had been told stories, how it was lucky to have a child able to see beyond the veil. How the caul signified a great power, coveted by the people of the forest. Her only babe, marked as Fae. 

-They would come for her child, steal him in the night and replace him with another. And it would be a cold day in hell before Jill Mactavish let anything touch her son.

-She slept with the bundle clutched tightly in her arms, refusing to sleep until she left the hospital. Left him wrapped snugly to her front as she hammered iron railroad spikes into the corners of her property; hung horseshoes above her doors, sprinkled fine lines of salt around every doorway and window of her home. 

-She thought it had worked. At least for a while. But the Fae are persistent if nothing else. Jill began to notice strange flowers pop up around the foundation of her home, odd tapping rhythms heard in the night. Would she know? Would she know if the lamb in her arms was replaced with another?

-She was so exhausted, worn thin from paranoia. Yet Jill Mactavish was no quitter. Under the light of a pale full moon she marched to the edge of her property. Her blue eyed bundle cooing and gumming happily at his fingers as he wriggled against her chest. With a final look to the boy she faced the forest with a stern resolve, “You won't take him! But I'll share him! Leave us be or help me raise him right!” 

-The winds rustled, branches creaking ominously. Leaves gathered and spun into a tornado of color in the chill autumn air. Jill would freeze in place as the leaves fell away, revealing an ethereally beautiful creature before her. All high cheekbones and sharp eyes surrounded by inky black sclera. 

-Ordinarily the Fae would swap out changelings, snag the babe once it was the right size and replace it with one of their own. Considering the wee one was already Touched….perhaps a swap would be unnecessary.  Human mother's were coveted. The milk of human kindness and all that, and the babe was truly beautiful, destined to be strong. The fae had looked Jill up and down with a calculating look. Yes. A deal could be struck. They would raise the baby together.

-And thus Soap spent his time in equal parts amongst the Fae and humans, learning to socialize with both, though he didn't completely fitting in with either. Soap was hell on wheels. Rambunctious and equally curious, constantly nosing or getting into things he ought not have. Not that he was ostracized by either group he was just..*odd.* Unable to find his footing or close friends.

-You could say that Soap has many siblings, though this term is used liberally.  By human technicalities Soap is an only child (his mum's baby boy). His mother, through the nature of her bargain,  was brought into the fold with young John. Helping to raise and nurse her own gaggle of fae children of differing bloods. Other children Soap would call family.

-Fae don't have strict family dynamics, it's certainly a community effort to rear little ones. Fae children can be produced in a myriad of ways, with no one way being seen above another, p in v? that works. Born from a flower? Sure why not. Throw some herbs and intent together until a wailing babe sounds from the cauldron? That works too.

-Soap naturally inquired about this, as any kid would. “Ma? Did I come from a flower?” “You came from my belly wee one” Soap had squinted at her, eyeing her belly incredulously, "but how?”

-It took several conversations to get the toddler to understand that the other children in his human primary school were not in fact his brothers and sisters. 

-As humans are fascinated with the Fae, the Fae are equally as fascinated by humans. As John grew into a young man he would see the differences. The Fae courts had long fallen into a peaceful rhythm. The humans? Hardly. With a powerful knack for chaos, among other abilities. Soap threw himself into the army. Keen to help as many as he could, and perhaps even find his own way. 

-Soap is a marked child. He is more resilient on average than most Fae, and shows no obvious limitations in what disciplines he can learn. However, as marked he does have particular dispositions toward the following.

-Tongues, the ability to speak any language at will. Sometimes without thinking about it. For Soap this isn't automatic, but after a few days of listening or studying he's fluent. (Albeit with the accent). This gives Soap a peculiar edge when working with varying communities, elements, and other critters/creatures.

-Glamour, a sophisticated illusion, these may allow for invisibility or changes to appearance for a brief time (upwards to an hour but possibly longer depending on the severity of the change). Living amongst the Fae made permanent changes to his body. The sclera of his eyes had shifted inky black. His teeth and nails razor sharp. There is an ethereal beauty to all Fae as well. Naturally Soap uses this ability to cover some of the obvious issues.

-Soap knows he's distracting. He's a proud thing, and rarely bothers shifting that. He's damn good at what he does and looks damn good doing it. Hshows off his muscles/skills/looks without shame. 

-Shapeshifting, self explanatory, but only works proportionally give or take a few inches. He may take on the appearance of another person or creature, briefly. But once again, only appearance. Mimicking voices is another skill.

-Sight or Clairvoyance, this ability's range depends on the court or bloodline. In Soap's case, his visions will occasionally come to him in dreams, these being more sophisticated visions or events far in the future. These visions are generally more detailed.  He is typically privy to smaller prophecies,  glimpses of events happening minutes before him. These are typically vague, but have consistently been enough to save his and his teammates asses numerous times in the field.  The Infamous Mactavish Intuition ;)

-Soap is one hell of an alchemist, and can make due with most natural items at his disposal. Poisons, potions, explosives, you name it, Soap can make it. He excelled remarkably in the maths and sciences in school, and it’s why he was also quickly assigned to demolitions so long ago. 

-Soap has a very noticeable smell. One that isn't exclusively detected by other supernatural beings. Any human standing beside him would notice it. Lemon and shortbread, with a warm curl of rose.  Clean, green and vaguely sweet. People wonder if his callsign was from this fact rather than his prowess on the field.

-Nudity has no taboo with the Fae. Raised as such, the man has literally no shame. Soap Mactavish has been naked since he was a child in the woods, and will continue to proudly do so. Does not understand why everyone else is so uptight about it. Will bust in on someone in the shower without a second thought. “Stop screamin’ it’s just me”

-Fae are very partial to music, and Soap is no exception. He is so easily captivated by the sound, swaying slightly, almost as if hypnotized. Soap isn’t as in tune with artists and genres as Gaz is, but he keeps a hoard of songs on his phone. Gaz is his main contributor, keeps him well fed with playlists he makes. Playing new records for Soap as they bop around the kitchen together, playfully dancing or headbanging together.  Soap was once pretty proficient with piano and guitar at his mam’s encouragement. His singing however, nearly got him killed in basic. 

-Many animals are the watchdogs of the Fae. Soap has been seen having conversations with himself, unknowing to onlookers that a little frog or squirrel was sitting beside him. Someone swears they saw a mouse crawl out of his tac vest once. He whistles with the birds, scoops up bugs and plops them back into the weeds.  He unfortunately doesn’t know the language of the shower spider. He doesn't bother to learn, he thinks he prefers the silence in this instance. 

-Soap can be attracted with a myriad of things just like any other fae. Music as mentioned above is one. He is also partial to pretty chimes and bells, running water, shiny and/or colorful displays, as well as anything sweet, candies or sweet creams/milks/liquors.

- Too much contact with iron on his bare skin will poison him.  Fortunately most weaponry constructed now is made of more synthetic material. It can be noticed that Soap is very particular about his gloves, and is rarely seen without them on. Iron on properties or above doors won’t exactly stop him, but it is incredibly uncomfortable and will lead to sickness if he is trapped within such a ward for too long. 

-Fae, like crows, are enamored with jewels and other shiny objects, less of a weakness really and more of a distraction. Soap, prior to his enlistment had several piercings, such as his ears, and brow…among other things. He was very fond of the adornments, and easily captivated by the shiny displays on others. (This also extends to his intense love of blowing shit up and watching the sparks fly, big ole hearts in his eyes as the colors dance)  In the event the team goes out for something special Soap will throw on a few pieces for fun~ 

-Soap can not lie, at least not directly, however Soap is a very sharp lad, and has learned to cleverly navigate around this by either not telling the whole truth, letting others assume, or simply not correcting misconceptions. He is a Fae afterall, being clever is his specialty.

-Customs of love and marriage vary among the Fae. Many Fae interpret strong love as variations of servitude, especially towards human mates.  Soap has gotten himself tangled between both of these versions of love. For Soap love is servitude. Not something to be expected of his lovers, but from him. Soap gives himself to his lovers willingly, He wants to be good, give them anything they want and let them take what they need. Love is worship, and Soap is a very devoted man.

-Soap and Gaz had bro’d up as soon as they spotted each other. Having seen through each other's glamours, they became fast friends. Two oddballs fighting side by side. Which would turn into playful banter, and kips on the helo leaning against one another. Then to wandering hands and desperate kisses, having found comfort and fondness in each other after years of hiding themselves among humans. Soap and Gaz are the most cuddly. Johnny likes to lay sprawled in his Sphinx’s nest, his arms curled around his middle, face buried against Gaz's stomach. Both of them absolutely hate to sleep alone. 

- Soap had a knack for getting into trouble. Disregarding orders to do what needed to be done. Had nearly been kicked out had his skills not saved his skin (and countless others). It was Price who sniffed him out, offered to take the man on loan for a bit. Soap's former CO was happy to be rid of him and hopeful that the notoriously stern Captain would knock some sense into him. Price, however had no such plans, he cut Soap loose, full authority, and watched the man bloom. Price did not anger at Soap’s decisions, didn’t flinch at his savagery in the field. In fact, Price had looked upon him with fondness (and a fair amount of exasperation). He kept Soap warm with lovely praises and a regular morning coffee, plus a heavy splash of sweet cream, for good measure.

-Simon had been more difficult, adamant on giving the Fae a hard time. Having seemingly been put off by Soap ever since he bounded off the truck and fist-bumped his arm on the tarmac. But Soap was determined, chatting and teasing, unphased by the lieutenants' icey behavior. They fell together in no time. Soap nestled to his chest, lips brushing over Simon's slow beating heart. Soap would never admit it. Never admit that he knew it would be like this all along. That Soap had seen him in his dreams.

[l0v3tast3]

young!reader who leaves for a mission and comes back with a horse

✎ petah. . . . . the horse is here.

✎ tags: young military reader, gender neutral reader, not proofread im too cool for that

♡ "don't wander off," price had said. "you'll just get lost out here," he had also said. you did wander off, but miraculously did not get lost (entirely).

♡ the guys are panicked. you're all stuck out in the middle of absolute nowhere, no buildings for several kilometers in every direction. it's just sparse forest aside from your little cabin safehouse, cut off from anything and everything. and you're gone.

♡ they had attempted to search the surrounding area once they realized you weren't close by, but rain soon started drizzling down and turning to a steady pour not long after, covering an already setting sun. soap and gaz both insisted on staying out later than price and ghost, but were soon driven inside by the soon-to-be pitch black sky.

♡ they take their usual turns of being on watch throughout the night, but no one really sleeps. it's several hours into the night when soap suddenly shouts that you're back. they're all rushing to the door as you come in, sopping wet and violently shivering. despite that, you greet them with your usual smile (just with chattering teeth) and a cheery "hey guys!"

♡ you're just like, "sorry i was gone so long" and gaz and soap simultaneously ask where the hell you've been, while ghost asks why you didn't radio in at least, and price tells you that he told you this would happen. and you have the audacity to look confused, as if you didn't think they'd worry when you suddenly went dark for hours without warning.

♡ you sheepishly explain that you had seen an animal and followed after it and got just a little bit lost on your way back for awhile. price once again says that he told you this would happen, and you roll your eyes. soap grabs blankets from the grubby couch in the tiny living room and gaz tells you to go change.

♡ once you do, you're basically ordered to bundle yourself up and sit in front of the fireplace while price gives you the usual lecture of "you need to radio in" and "you can't just go wandering off". everyone stifles their laughter when they see the dead stare you give him the entire time.

♡ they poke fun at you for wandering off after some animal until you decide to march away dramatically to where you had declared your sleeping place (it was a corner behind a half wall that you had shoved your stuff into, about halfway across the room from everyone else).

♡ the rest of the night passes by uneventfully, and you all wake up as the rain tapers off and a gray haze settles over everything. soap and ghost go outside while the rest of you are still waking up (except for price, hunched in a chair, still snoring).

♡ you're slowly stretching out your stiff muscles when soap and ghost come marching back in and over to you. soap asks you why there is a horse tethered to the overhang at the back of the house.

♡ "i told you, i found an animal," you say. they exchange a look while gaz's head perks up and a quiet "huh?" escapes him.

♡ and so ensues ghost telling you off for, one, wandering off after a horse, and two, staying out for hours without radioing because of a horse, and three, bringing said horse back with you to your safehouse. you still look confused, and it makes him go on further. price is awake now and he's pretty sure he's still dreaming; soap and gaz are quietly making jokes and snickering ghost's increasingly annoyed body language.

♡ ghost and you go back and forth for about ten minutes before he gives up and stalks off. price, now out of his stupor, tells you that you can't keep the horse. before you can start protesting again, he follows up with the fact that there's a farm a few miles away, and they might take the horse.

♡ soap and gaz come with you as you dejectedly lead the horse in the direction of the farm (they mostly just came with because price told them to make sure you actually gave up the horse). you complain the whole way there, talking to the horse about how they're all mean and stupid while soap mumbles a quick "we're not stupid!"

♡ you're at the edge of the field and the horse doesn't want to leave your side. you say your final goodbyes, sniffling through it all, before gaz sighs and slaps the horse to send it running. you glare at him and he says you were just torturing yourself at that point, to which you you just flip him off. he puts his hands up and turns to start walking back to the safehouse.

♡ soap gives you a comforting pat on the back while gently leading you back after you watch the horse get closer to the farm for a little bit longer. he gives you some words of encouragement and manages to cheer you up with the fact that the horse will be well taken care of in the hands of real farmers (you say you could be a real farmer, he says he knows).

[syntheticavenger]

Dew

Did I just attempt a Joel Miller drabble? Maybe?

I'll deny it just the same.

Joel Miller x Stripper! Female Reader

Word Count: 575

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering.

Summary | Being bold has it's advantages.

He’s a regular.

Not by the amount of appearances he makes but the requests he makes of you, sitting across from you, sunglasses still on in the darkened room, the neon lights giving him an ethereal glow.

He’s your regular, the time slot taken up once a month, two hours for you to entertain him. The first time, he introduced himself with a simple nod, sitting down and letting you dance, watching your hips move to the music, your hands on the pole, wondering why he hasn’t made any attempt to touch you. It’s a rule that you know is followed loosely, based on the girl and her audience.

Tonight though, he sits, arms propped up on the back of the sofa, legs relaxed and open when you enter.

You’ve learned not to greet him too enthusiastically. He’s a busy man, judging by the way he never stays past his time, thanking you verbally and with a thousand dollar tip, sometimes more, each time. 

You’re feeling bold tonight, closing the door behind you, your pleated skirt lifting slightly at the action when you turn to face him.

“I had a thought,” you speak up, his head turning to you. “What’s with the sunglasses?”

He doesn’t answer, his head still turned toward you, listening to your every word. Your heart skips a beat when you take a step forward.

“Can I… can I touch you?” you ask, his fingers lifting to give you the motion to come forward.

You step in between his legs, bracing your legs when you bend, reaching for his sunglasses, pulling them off as his eyes stare directly into yours. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, the sunglasses still in your hand as you place them above him, smelling the scent of his faint cologne and whatever masculine body soap he’s used.

“Better,” you say, taking a step back when he moves forward slowly once you’ve stepped away. “What should we do tonight? Another dance?”

His shakes his head, motioning for you to sit.

Your heart still beats in your chest, looking at his calloused hands, wondering how they would feel on your skin.

You feel an odd sense of safety, even as he’s close, your hands running up your thighs, pulling up your skirt to reveal your black thong.

He blinks at the sight, your fingers reaching between your thighs to pull the fabric to the side, his gaze going to your glistening pussy.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you confess, looking at him as he lowers himself to the floor to his knees. “Do you like it?”

He won’t touch you, as close as he comes, his breath against your bare cunt, clenching at nothing as you force yourself to be still, even though you want to.

“Beautiful,” he says, his deep voice vibrating down your thighs.

“Oh good,” you swallow, your fingers dipping into your cunt, his hum of displeasure reaching your ears.

“Not yet.”

Your fingers shine under the light from your juices, spreading your thighs wider.

“I think… I should have a say,” you protest weakly.

“Alright then,” he agrees. “Ladies choice. Fingers or mouth?”

“B-Both,” you sigh, your fingers sliding into his hair, his tongue flicking at your clit. “If I can.”

“When you ask so politely,” he says, his thick fingers easing up inside you as his lips move over your bundle of nerves. “I aim to please.”

[lialucis]

Got talking with new Discord friend doubt I tag or do it right but have a thing!

Border Collie Soap/Panther Ghost

More of that incessant barking and growling returned by deep throaty growls and yowls and hisses. The chocolate brown eyes reflecting the lantern held in the jaws of the annoying dog shifter. **DEMANDING** the other comes out of that damnable briar bush so he can take care of him. 

"Will ya stop bein' a sour puss and come out here afore I drag you out?!" *The dog shifter barks out, hackles raised in annoyance.

"**Sour puss**? You're as small as that annoying coyote and yo-" The 'cat' shifter would be quickly cut off.

"I don' care if 'm *small* or whatever! Yer bleedin' now get out here! On the count of three!" Soap would bark out again, kneeling down to set the bundle of bandages and antiseptic on the ground. Ear twitching at the sound of rustling. Sky blue eyes meeting scowling chocolate, as he looked up, and up, and... "Oh yer a big bastard ain' ya? Doesn' matter, sit down an' gimme yer arm."

Ghost could only sputter indignantly, he could snap this mutts neck in half with one good bite! And yet, the stupid dog didn't even flinch. A huff and the black tailed would flick in annoyance behind Ghost, some part of his brain itching to comply. If not to stop that damn barking. "'m not some small barn cat." 

"No, jus' an oversized one." Soap would chuckle out, taking the other man's arm and looking it over. Just as he would when he tended to his heard.

[lilbittymonster]

Day 22: Itch (Free Day #3)

Read on AO3

Estinien walked down the hallway with the bundle of bathing supplies in hand. Kitali had left her coat crumpled on the floor next to one of the doors, and he smiled to himself at the courtesy. At this time of day, the place had been deserted, but better to avoid unnecessary accidents all the same.

He knocked softly on the door frame before sliding in, closing the door quickly behind him. The rest of her clothing was on the bench with room for his. The room was silent except for the steady burble of water flowing through the bathing tub. He stripped, folding the underclothes as neat as he could before stacking his armour into a precarious pile, and dug the linkpearl out of his ear and placed it in the palm of one of the gauntlets.

Kitali was already mostly submerged, staring vacantly at the mosaics of the wall. A stick of incense was burning somewhere and there was a light haze that settled over the water. It was vaguely reminiscent of a hot spring. Estinien slid into the water, trying not to look too hard at the mottled green-black scales out of the corner of his eye as he moved. With a plunge, he ducked his head underwater and wet his hair to begin scrubbing.

As he watched the suds slowly drift away on the current, Kitali floated herself over to him and bumped her head into his arm before sitting up.

“They had lavender,” he said as he handed over the small bottle of shampoo.

With a small hum she took it, and he slid a bit away from her to give her space. Taking up the bar of cheap soap he began lathering his own torso. Haltingly Kitali poured some of the liquid into her hand, and got about halfway through running her hands through her hair before she stopped, staring at something invisible to him in the water’s surface.

“Did you forget how to wash?” he joked.

“Hmm?”

“You just...stopped.”

She sighed, almost going to rub her eyes before catching herself. He frowned as he rinsed the soap from his skin.

“You alright?”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper.

Straightening up again, he took the vial from her and poured a small amount out.

“Here. Turn.”

She obeyed and Estinien worked his hands through her hair until it was full of foam. When he reached her hairline she winced and pulled away. He immediately froze, worried.

“What’d I do?”

“I don’t-” She felt gingerly at her scalp before huffing a laugh and pulling his hands back to touch it. Beneath his fingertips he could feel two symmetrical bumps, small though they were, on either side of her head.

“...are you growing new horns?”

“I think so.” She still sounded distant.

He gently withdrew his hands and scooped some water into them to start rinsing the suds from her hair. Wordlessly she tipped her head back, letting it run clean, and he couldn’t help but remember Aymeric doing this for him on so many occasions. It was obvious he still did it for Kitali. Without stopping to think, he turned to grab the jar of conditioner and smoothed it through her hair as well.

“Did you leave enough for you?” she asked idly.

“I don’t use it.”

“And you wonder why your hair gets tangled so easily,” she said, almost nearing her usual self. Kitali twisted her hair into a simple rope and coiled it on her head. “We’re supposed to be luxuriating, remember?”

Sighing over-dramatically at her, he turned and scooped out the remnants of the jar and applied it to his own hair, mimicking her topknot. “I suppose.”

She was present enough to smile at that, at least, and she had picked up the bristle brush that was included in their bundle as well as the bar of soap. He watched as she worked up a thick stiff foam with it before scrubbing at the scales on her forearm.

“You should get one of these,” she said, shaking the brush in indication. “I’m sure there’s plenty of places in the bazaar selling them.”

He curled his hand self-consciously over his left shoulder.

“It’d look a bit odd, wouldn’t it? An elezen buying a brush meant for scales.”

“Or your more than willing auri friend could buy one for you,” she countered pointedly. “I doubt anyone would look at you twice anyways, coin is coin.”

He hummed in agreement as she contorted to wash her sides and back.

“Do you want some help with that?” he offered.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, handing him the brush and turning her back to him once more.

He accepted it from her and dragged the bristles across the center of her back in slow circles, like how she had been doing. The more he worked, the more he could see the tension bleed out from her as she slumped forwards, letting herself be moved with the motions.

“These scales look new, as well,” he commented, tracing a finger around the several small patches of dark blue-black scales along the edges of the more established patches.

“Probably are. I don’t think they ever really stop growing.”

Estinien dipped the brush in the water, shaking the bubbles from it, and smoothed the lather from her skin. The bubbles swirled past him on the surface of the water on the current. Kitali turned and held out her hand towards him expectantly.

“Your turn.”

“For what?”

She tilted her head at him. “You helped me, it’s only fair I help you.”

“You and your debts,” he sighed.

Still, he handed her back the brush and let her handle his arm. As the soap bubbles slowly turned a faint brown, he distinctly looked anywhere but her face. Her scrubbing circles became tighter, the soft scrape of the bristles against scale growing louder than the sound of the bath water.

“These must itch like hell.”

Estinien shrugged. “No more than the rest of me after being in armour all day.”

“Yeah, I’m getting you one of these brushes,” she muttered with finality. He didn’t argue.

He sat patiently as she moved to his shoulder, angling down so she could reach. Her fingers ghosted searchingly over where the infections were.

“These healed well,” she murmured, closer to him than he expected. “No scarring.”

“I’m sure Alphinaud’s healing took care of them.”

“More than likely.”

As she worked at the expanse of scales capping his left shoulder and down his back, he turned over the newly gleaming scales on his right arm. In the warm candlelight, they almost looked like gems. Almost pretty. Water ran down his back and over his chest as Kitali rinsed the suds away and sat back from him. She slid forward into the basin and submerged entirely, shaking out her hair in a wide cloud beneath the water. Behind him, Estinien heard the linkpearl chime.

“We should get back,” he said as she resurfaced. “Before they send out a search party.”

“They won’t,” she said. “Thancred knows better.”

“As if Thancred is the only one making decisions for all of them,” Estinien responded wryly.

Kitali grumbled under her breath as she stood to exit the bath, still wringing her hair out. He averted his eyes, staying in the basin as he heard her drying off and dressing again.

“Don’t forget your coat,” he reminded her.

“I won’t.”

The door slid open and shut as she left. The linkpearl chimed again from the gauntlet. Estinien closed his eyes, and listened to the sound of the water running.

“What are you doing, Varlineau?” he said softly to the empty room.

[danibee33]

Don’t mind me.. just thinking about singledad/neighbor!Soap 🫶🏻

Thinking about how curious he would be to come home after work to see the big moving truck blocking his drive.

The townhome that shared a wall with his had been blissfully empty for months now, the last tenant had been a pompous old cunt, the kind that nagged and complained about how noisy the kids were.

Ah, his kids- who were currently, probably, driving the nanny just a bit mad. Two boys is no easy feat, much less a 2 year old with the same mischievous tendencies as his father, and a 5 year old who was too smart for his own good.

“Ach, definitely gets that from his mother.” he always says, even though everyone knows the man is smart as a whip.

But it’s when he nearly collides with a brown, cardboard box that he finally meets you.

You, who looked nearly on the verge of tears as you peeked your face around the side of the box before sitting it down,

“I’m- sorry..”, you apologized at least three more times before even making eye contact with him, looking up to see the outrageously handsome man just barely holding back a smile.

Soap’s curiosity was more piqued than ever, hearing your thick American accent- seeing you fumble for words before blowing out a long sigh,

“It’s been a long night- uh- day. I don’t know anymore.. I had a thirteen hour layover, and I haven’t slept in I think over twenty-four hours now? and you.. but, none of that matters. Ha.. um, hi.”

Oh- Fucking hell, you’re adorable. And he’s in trouble.

You extended a trembling hand, your name spoken so softly he could’ve missed it if he were further away- but he thinks he likes the sound of it.

“John MacTavish.. nice tae meet ye, lass.”

The weak giggle that tumbles from between your lips is a sweet sound, one he instantly finds himself craving more of-

“Somethin’ funny?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, your hand still in his because he noticed you haven’t made any effort to pull away.

And fuuuuck, the way your cheeks bloom an even brighter red makes your features somehow even more gorgeous- it’s honestly not fair, the universe giving him the prettiest little thing for a neighbor.

“No.. I just- your accent- and you, you’re very nice, oh- oh my god.” You finally let go of him, scrubbing the same hand over your face, “You’re.. my neighbor. And I’m blocking your spot. Christ alive.. I’ll move it, I’m sorry-“

Before he can tell you it’s fine, that you really didn’t have to, you had already flitted away.

+++

He doesn’t see you for another week. He sees the moving truck disappear, spots a sparkly holiday wreath on the door the next day, hears you quietly moving about mostly in the evenings, and sees your chimney puffing white smoke- but never you.

Until finally, the sound of his snow shovel draws you out.

You hadn’t even gotten dressed yet, it was that early. Sleepily making your way downstairs, pulling on your ridiculous fluffy robe as you go- Scotland winters would certainly take some getting used to.

It’s then you hear the oddly repetitive sound, scraping followed by a dull thump. Over and over.

You peek through the curtains, seeing your neighbor- your very good looking neighbor- bundled up in a thick plaid jacket, his overgrown mohawk covered by a black beanie, the dark curly ends just barely poking out around his neck.

He’s shoveling your walkway, oddly tan cheeks colored pink from the cold and exertion-

Without thought, you unlatch your chain lock, flipping the deadbolt next before yanking the door open,

“What are you doing?”

Nice.. real fucking smooth-

Soap looks up in surprise, big blue eyes meeting yours before straying- seeing your legs bare under the fuzzy pink robe, your hair pulled up in a messy bun, little baby hairs flying this way and that. (God, he’s so fucked, isn’t he?)

You watch him stand straight, casually leaning against his shovel when that same lopsided smirk as before graces his lips,

“Well.. we got a good bit o’ snow last night, and I figured since I were already up and at ‘em, I’d do the neighborly thing, y’ken?”

——

🫣🫣 oh god, I’ve watched waaayyyy too many cheesy holiday movies - send help.

[mischiefandlies]

After hours

Loki x Reader

Masterlist

Notes: I had staff training yesterday and was absolutely shattered. Thought this would make a cute fic. Btw, my work is really physical, so it's sort of geared to that.

Warnings: None. Enjoy!

You had come home absolutely exhausted. Staff training was horrible. You worked at a small company that had recently bought a new facility, so everyone had to trundle an extra half hour down the road, learn how to operate new equipment (which was exactly the same as the old equipment), then spend hours going through powerpoints about things that could’ve been said in one email. All in all, it was an incredible waste of time. And you liked your job- but not like this.

You got out the car and made straight for the shower, only pausing to dump your bag on the sideboard. The hot water washes over you, and you feel all the sweat and grime of the day wash away. You’re almost done washing your hair when you feel a pair of hands replace your own, massaging your scalp. Soap runs down your back as you lean into his steady touch, letting out a moan of contentment.

“Anymore noises like that and you’ll find yourself pinned against the tiles darling.”

“Can’t help it,” you say “Your fingers are literally magical.”

He chuckles behind you. You turn to face him to see he is naked as the day he was born. His black hair frames his face perfectly, although you focus your attention a little further south, trailing your eyes down his toned body. He cups your face with his hands and tilts your head up, forcing your wandering eyes to land on his. He then leans over, pressing little kisses on your face, holding you close while he finishes rinsing your hair. He keeps an arm around you even when he has washed you thoroughly, and leads you out the shower where he bundles you up in a towel, scoops you up, and walks away towards your bedroom. He even goes so far as to dry you, before he sets you under the covers and leaves you, kissing you sweetly on the lips and leaving to make dinner.

You can’t be bothered to get dressed, so just squirrel under the blankets and curl up in a ball, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, looking at nothing. He comes and joins you, spooning you so that he can nuzzle into your neck and kiss your shoulder. The two of you lay therelike that until you here the timer go off in antother room. Loki scoots out of bed to go get it while you slowly dress into a pair of warm cozy PJs.

Once the two of you have finished dinner, Loki and you go back to bed. What you don't know is your boyfriend has one last trickk up his sleeve. He moves you ever so slightly so that you are lying on your back, so that he can easily begin to massage your tense muscles. before you know it, he's working his way down his back, slowly and methodically soothing you. It's so relaxing that by the time he's finished, your virtually asleep. He crawls back up the bed and pulls you into his chest, so that when you finally do drift off, he can feel your steady heartbeat beside him.

[milkratz]

It was pitch black when Simon woke up. He was warm, for once, an arm thrown loosely around his waist. He could feel the hot breath of Soap against his neck, the now familiar brush of his beard, the slight wetness of the inevitable drool.

As comfortable as he was, his throat was scratchy and sore. He tried, once, to swallow and found it catching in his throat. He spluttered for a moment, hoping that he didn't jostle Johnny too much as he struggled to not cough.

Once he gained control of his functions, he laid in bed for a moment, just breathing. His eyes had begun to adjust to the dark and he took note of his surroundings. They were in Soap's flat, in Glasgow. There was a wide window on the wall across from the bed, the curtains waving from the air conditioning, occasionally allowing for a glimpse of moonlight to peek through. It illuminated the room. Clothes strewn across the room, their bags tossed in the corner of the room. They'd arrived just the day before, both too tired to start settling in, just tossing their stuff where they saw fit.

Simon began the slow and tedious process of untangling himself from his lover. Soap had always been a heavy sleeper, regardless of the Military; The second they weren't on duty, Soap was out like a light, head lolling back and forth, mouth hanging open like a fish, drool sliding from the corner of his mouth.

It was, to Simon's great distress, incredibly endearing.

Once he freed himself, he almost threw himself right back in bed. The frigid air of the cold apartment didn't bother him as much when he was bundled under the comfortable, Soap radiating heat beside him. Now he stood vulnerable, with his sensitive skin bare to the world.

He shivered, once, before making his way out of the room, his footfalls silent as always. In the kitchen, he blearily grabbed a glass before filling it with water. Sitting at the dining table, he sipped it silently. His head resting in his hand, he looked around the apartment, significantly more illuminated than the bedroom.

It was neat, albeit dusty. Soap obviously wasn't home enough for it to feel quite lived in, other than the indent in the couch. It almost felt staged, if it wasn't for the few items that screamed 'Johnny!'.

Simon smiled. It was rare for him to feel comfortable, the constant unease that itched beneath his skin only ever easing when Johnny was in his sights. But here? The call of his past didn't haunt him as viciously. He wasn't scared to look out the window or answer the door. His gun wasn't under the pillow - It was in the nightstand though.

He wasn't Ghost here; He was Simon, John Mactavish's large and quiet boyfriend.

He sat the water on the table, sighing and rubbing his eyes. Now that his throat wasn't screaming at him from beneath the dunes of the Sahara desert, the exhaustion in his bones seemed to return. He stood up, just about to put the glass in the sink to deal with in the morning when the creak of a floorboard alerted him.

"Simon?" Johnny yawned, his hand flicking the light switch on the wall, only to wince when the bright light hit his sensitive, tired eyes.

"Did I wake you?" Simon asked, dropping the glass in the sink and making his way back to John.

Johnny hummed, "Ye nawt being thir did." He reached out, wrapping his arms around Simon's waist and burying his face in his neck. He sighed happily when Simon's arms wrapped around his own waist.

"C'mon back to bed, aye?"

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Hallo!! I have had this stuck in my brain for so long but I just love the idea of a reader who knits or crochets as a hobby and them making little Christmas gifts for the 141? Like a bright green crocheted version of Prices hat or a knitted mask for ghost. I just think they deserve hand made gifts so they know they're cared for 😌

A/N: I love a good holiday drabble

Soap

"What's this then?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe. It was early in the morning and you were lucky enough to get holiday leave. You just had to deliver everyone's presents. Soap's room was next to yours so he was first.

He held the clumsily wrapped package with an amused smile.

"Open it."

"It's not Christmas yet." He said, shrugging.

"Soap. Just open the damn thing." You wanted to see his reaction. He tore at the paper, and his smile grew as he revealed his gift. A knitted scarf made to look like the Scottish Flag.

"I'm never taking it off," he said, wrapping it around his neck. "Did you make this?"

"Yeah, I just had some free-" You were interrupted by him hugging you around the waist and lifting you up into the air.

"I love it." He said, spinning the two of you in a circle.

Gaz

Gaz was the next stop. You found him eating breakfast in the mess. You slide into the seat next to him.

"Mornin'." You said, stealing a piece of toast from him.

"Morning to you too, little thief." He said, jokingly slapping your hand away. "You leaving today?"

"In a couple hours but I had to do some things first."

"What are these things?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Delivering this." You handed him a tissue paper-wrapped bundle.

"Fuck, I didn't get you anything." He said rubbing a hand over his head. "You gotta warn me about these things."

"You don't have to get me anything. Just open it now."

He smiled and shook his head as he unwrapped it. It was a pair of mittens, knitted with dark maroon wool.

"You're always complaining how cold your hands are." He slipped them on and cupped your face.

"I'm still getting you something when you get back." He kissed your forehead. "You're making me look bad.

Captain John Price

You knocked on his office door, a light blue bag covered in snowflakes in your hand.

"Come in." He called. You went in. "Aren't you supposed to be home?"

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"You being home means I have one less person to worry about." He leaned back in his chair. He was looking at the bag.

"This is for you." You were shyer about this one than the previous two. You set the bag on his desk. He smirked and took the bag. He laughed as he pulled out the tissue paper. It was a green bucket hat, maybe a little more feminine than you had intended but it was too late to make changes. He took off his hat and replaced it with your handmade one.

"How do I look?" He smiled.

"You look good." You giggled.

"Thank you, dear." He reached into his desk and pulled out a candy bar with a red ribbon tied around it. He tossed it to you. "Have a good holiday."

Ghost

You were afraid you wouldn't be able to find him in time. You had to loop back to the other three and only Soap had the vaguest idea of where he could be.

"Try the roof?" He shrugged, offering to pass the gift on if you couldn't find him in time. No, it had to be in person. You were anxious. He had never been cruel or even outright mean to you but he was intimidating, to say the least. He was also who you knew the least.

Soap was right. He was on the roof. A cup of black coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other. You close the door just loud enough that he could hear and have time to pull his mask down.

"Thought you were gone."

"I have to leave right after this, actually." You approached slowly. Your gifting hand outstretched like how'd you let a dog sniff you before going to pet it.

"After this?" He turned to look at you. He paused when he saw the gift. 'Don't bite me, please' you thought.

"For you." You handed him the little wrapped package. He set his coffee down and gave you his cigarette to hold. He was the most gentle with the wrapping, slowly undoing the knotted bow. He pulled against the tape, careful not to rip the paper. It was simple. Just a plain black balaclava.

"Most of yours are polyester and this is cotton so it won't be as harsh on your face." You explained quickly. He was flipping it over in his hands.

"Did you make this?" He asked, standing.

"Yeah." You resisted the urge to ask if he liked it. He pulled you into a one-arm hug.

"Thanks, kid." He clapped your shoulder. "Now get out of here."

He took the cigarette back and sat back down. You hurried away, taking one look back before slipping back inside. He had the balaclava in his hand, just staring at it. You got a quick glimpse of him living his mask over his chin to rub the cotton against it before the door slammed shut.

[serene-sun]

𝕴 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 • ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Pairing: Copia & young reader

Warnings: none, just comfort and fluff so sweet you will cry

A/n: I cried writing this, for many reasons, but I won’t rant on the fic itself! I did in-fact write this sleepy sleepy fic for the sleepy sleep themselves @ghostussy

“Okie dokie kiddo, it’s time for bed.” Copia softy whispered into your ear, patting your back softly as to not wake your half asleep form.

You laid pressed against copia in his lap as he worked on some final plans for the clergy, you had insisted you help him, only to fall asleep from the days earlier excitement.

You groan a little, letting him know you at least heard him. You fell even more limp into his warm embrace as he fixed you to be more secure in his chest as he stood From his dark oak desk.

“My bambino, so sleepy, so tired from all of that well spent energy.” He huffed under his breath, just barely a whisper

The hallways were warm, candles lined the walls with red and black drapes, and the stone floor you both strode along. At every window, a painted vase stood filled with fresh flowers. You always loved the smell, it was so refreshing and nice, and color.

“Before you slip into pjays, let’s get you a nice bath, shall we?” Copia asks you, pushing open the door to his chambers.

He lead you to the bathroom, already having your soaps and toys as you had seemed to form the habit of having copia do you nightly routine.

You slowly nod, sleep making your eyelids heavier with every fight to lift them.

Copia set you in the tub filled with warm water, he sat on the outside beside you, letting you enjoy the warmth as he grabbed your soap and shampoo.

“Eh, which would you prefer?” Copia showed you the two bottles in hand, “watermelon, of strawberry?”

His accent is so thick, no one speaks like copia does. Maybe that was another thing that made copia so much more special, he was one of a kind.

Nobody in the abbey walked, talked, or treated you with such tenderness like copia did. It wasn’t his position, or being the youngest, not even from having such clingy ghouls. Copia was naturally born with these qualities that made him a great man, leader, and even better; father.

It didn’t matter if he was blood or not, what did matter was his unconditional love for you that never faltered. Even when you had messed up, when you cried over the smallest things, when you scraped your knee, or if you ever got overstimulated or had an attack from anything of your past. Copia was there, always, when you needed him. His touch so tender and caring, his heart beat calming, his eyes full of love and his smile so bright.

It didn’t matter who or what was outside of copia embrace, because you knew you could trust him to protect you. A shield, a promise, a protector, and a loving home is what copia is.

“Alright dolce Stella, let’s get you dried.” He soothed your skin as you stepped out of the bath and into the cold air.

Copia stoped a shiver crawling down your spine as he quickly took your favorite towel and wrapped it around you. It was green and white, the pattern of a frog, it had a hood with a cute nose and two eyes up top.

“Feel better?” He rubs the fabric to you, bundling you up and leading you to the stool at the vanity.

“What beautiful locks!” Copia is enthusiastic about your hair, he always points out every detail about it, “my, my, must be a play date for the ghoulettes.”

“Secundo could never…” you joke, earning a rather loud chuckle from copia.

“Don’t forget to brush those toothers.” Copia reminds you, as he sets the brush down as he finishes your hair, handing you a tooth brush with sharks on it.

After you brush your teeth, copia swaddles you up and brings you to your ‘little’ wardrobe in his room.

“What wou-“ copia tried to speak but your attention is stolen by a pretty pattern of stars and planets that you blurt out, ���that one!” You quickly grab the pajama set off the shelf and show papa like it’s a piece of art you just finished, and boy was papa proud

“You like your space pajamas don’t you dolce.” He says, sliding them onto you.

The man took you once more into his arms, bringing you back into his main room.

“Now, here’s your stuffy and your blanket.” Copia sets you under the covers of the bed, tucking you in with your stuffed frog and space themed blanket.

Copia takes the time to turn on your pillow pet, the lady bug one that casts an array of stars, galaxies, and planets across the ceiling.

“Papa” you grab at his hand as he leans away from the bed.

“Hm?” He brushes off any lent on the blanket.

“Story?” You ask, exhaustion kicking in again like the moon light is pure melatonin.

“Well of course bambino, I assume you want the same as last nights?” Copia reaches at the bookshelf across from the bed and under the TV.

You may of had a slight obsession with this one book series, and copia may of read it to you every night since it was your favorite. You couldn’t help it, it would send you straight to sleep.

“Hmm, how about this one?” He shows you one that has a different cover, but still the same art style and title.

You nod eagerly, relaxing back into the covers and pillows as copia sits beside you. He brings you to lay into the crook of his chest, his left arm resting around you.

“Comfy?” Copia asked before starting, licking his finger to open the book.

You nod once more, and so he begins

“Mr. Putter and his fine cat, Tabby, loved to sleep. They could sleep anywhere. They slept in chairs, in swings, in cars, in tubs, and sometimes in the laundry room!” Copia read with excitement, but a soft low voice that made your brain tingle.

As copia continued, you started zoning out, staring into the colorful drawings of the pages.

“It was a beautiful night. The moon was full, and moonlight was everywhere. Tabby looked. She listened. She twitched her ears. She twitched her tail.” Copia continues as your head falls back into his shoulder.

You feel your muscles relax, your shoulders and legs release tension.

‘Maybe I’ll let them rest’ is what you thought, letting your eye lids shut softly. A breathe exhaled through your nose, you faintly felt copia move to flip the page.

“Mr. Putter looked up at the sky,

He showed Tabby the stars and he told her all about them. He told her that the Blg Dipper was full of milk from the Milky Way. Tabby purred she loved milk.”

By now, you’re zoned out enough to not listen to him anymore. Your body takes in the feeling of copias body heat and soaks it up like a sponge.

You take it the softness of his voice and chest, the tickle of his hair on your forehead

“They told stories in the moonlight. They told secrets. They made each other laugh.”

Copia softly finished his line, glimpsing at your asleep form.

He softly slid out of your bed, careful not to wake you. He pulled the covers up to your neck, setting your frog in your arms.

He leaned in to kiss your forehead,

“goodnight bambino…I love you trillions.”