#here the call of 4Runner Soap

[brewed-pangolin]

Me after finishing a 4 hour drive and reading this absolute beauty...

his vehicle with the oversized tires that you could hear a mile away.

AKA 4Runner Soap's mating call...

Thank you for this, darlin. My psyche needed it

-💛

I need cbf!Johnny to swoop in and remind me of the blissful years of my youth while dicking me down into the mattress. Just to reaffirm the importance of friendship for reasons that I can't think of.

You know who this is from...

-💛

What if he reaffirms the importance of y'all's friendship after picking you up from a date?

And by pick up, I mean interrupt.

See, someone had managed to get you to give them your number.

Surprising, honestly, because you were a bit picky with the men you let into your life. That the guy had hair the color of damp soil and the Caribbean Sea in his eyes was merely coincidental.

It was all going well enough, until you went a dinner date with him, and Johnny seats himself at your table.

John fucking MacTavish.

If looks could kill.

You reached over and pinched the cartilage of his ear with your nails— twisting it until he gave a pained yelp.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be across the world on a mission or something?" you hiss.

As Johnny responds to you, his unwavering gaze remains fixated on your date.

"Obviously not, hen. Went home t'find ye missin'. Was worried somethin' happened t'ye. Wha's the lad?"

Your date uneasily clears his throat. "I'm uh—," but Johnny briskly flicks his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Dinnae answer tha'— was rhetorical. Ah'll be takin' my bonnie now, aye?" Leaning in, Johnny's hand firmly clasps his shoulder, eliciting a wince from your date. "Fer the sake of yer health, delete'r number."

You didn't dare interrupt as he bullied your date out of the restaurant nor resist when he dragged you to his vehicle with the oversized tires that you could hear a mile away.

And that's how you ended up in this position— thighs pressed against your sweat-slick chest, his rough hands keeping you in place, and your feet positioned near his ears, as he split you open with his cock.

"All ye needed t'do was wait fer me. Ah'd give ye anythin' ye want— just gotta ask." His deep voice rolled over you like a wave, leaving you breathless.

Your eyes crossed when he bottomed out, a toe-curling blend of pleasure and pain setting your nerves ablaze.

Gently, he leans down and captures your lips with his own hungrily— swallowing a moan that came from the back of his throat.

All senses but touch dull when he begins to move. The drag of his length along your swollen, tender walls. The coarse, dense hair on his chest brushing against your feverish skin— awakening every nerve ending. His warm tongue curling with yours, peppermint on your taste buds.

It's quickly becoming too much.

Johnny breaks away with a groan, strings of glistening saliva connecting you both, and gazes down at you—his eyes shimmering with an ethereal luminescence under the moon's soft light.

He grinds down, his trimmed pubic hair brushing against your slippery pearl, and a high-pitched keen slithered from behind your teeth.

"Tha's it, hen, take yer pleasure from me. I'm all ye need. Tha's wha' ah'm fer; To give ye what ye need, as yer best friend, aye?" he purrs.

There is no fighting him. There is no want to fight him, either.

He's all you need.

"Atta lass," his lips brush the shell of your ears as he breathes, "Ahm' all ye'll ever need."

Any words that sat on your tongue turned to ash when he began to thrust.

"Til death do us part, bonnie."

he would chain the very heavens and drag them down if you asked it of him.

[brewed-pangolin]

Tailgate Movie Night

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

Synopsis: You and Soap take advantage of a warm summer's night to hit the drive-in. Yet halfway through the film, your attention gets pulled to a more tranquil scene before you.

Warnings: None. Fluffs galore.

You couldn’t have asked for a better night if you begged for it. The warm summer air cooled with a gentle breeze that came in the moment the sun descended below the distant horizon. A crystal clear night. The dark, black expanse of the sky blanketed in countless stars, so many you were unable to discern the distinct formation of your favorite constellations within them.

And popcorn. So. much. Popcorn.

As you made your way through the vast jungle of parked cars, you let your mind wander and take in the sights and sounds around you.

The endless parade of movie goers lining up at the concession stand.

A series of high-pitched screams of children scurrying around the grass laden parking lot.

And the delicious aroma of salted butter filling your sinuses as you made your way back to your parking spot. Needing both hands to cradle the massive paper bag of popcorn your lover always insisted on during movie nights.

And you obliged, as always. Movie theater popcorn was, after all, his guilty pleasure. And you were certainly not going to deny Soap MacTavish of his most prized culinary obsession.

As you continued to meander through the last line of parked cars, your eyes finally caught sight of Soap’s other most prized obsession; his 4Runner.

Your lips involuntarily curled into a smile as you watched him make the last-minute touches to the back of the compartment. Transforming a typical cargo hold into a full-blown comforting sanctuary.

Built in air mattress. Pillows set up against the backseat and sides of the trunk. And a plethora of blankest set out at your disposal. In other words, perfect.

“Lookin’ good, Johnny,” you called out with a grin permanently etched onto your lips.

“Aye. Jus’ need one more thing,” Soap replied, reaching over the backseat to grab the cooler and a six pack of Irn Bru.

“You splurgin’ tonight. Aren’t ya, love?”

“I earned it, lass. Got the botched crest to prove it,” he answered with a head tilt and a smirk.

The chunk of hair missing from his distinctive mohawk more visible in the dim light and the peach fuzz of new hair growth just beginning to cover the scar left by the grazed bullet.

“It’s an interesting look, Soap. Got a bit of a, I don’t know, Stegosaurus vibe to it.”

“Shut it, lass.”

“Why don’t you just shave it?”

Soap fell silent. Immediately shooting you a playfully repulsed glare and grabbing at the immense bag of popcorn from your hands.

“Away n’ biel yer heid.”

“Yeah. Fuck you too, babe.” You smiled brightly back at him, climbing into the back to take your place snuggled up next to him.

Not even thirty minutes into the movie, you reached over into the giant bag of popcorn nestled between you and found it to be nearly completely empty. Cupping a few straggling upopped kernels into your hand, you glanced over and took in the blissful sight before you.

Soap MacTavish. Your Johnny. Fast asleep against the pillow next to you.

In normal circumstances, you would jab into his side and rile him up to keep him awake. But now, with how peaceful he looked, you wouldn’t dare stir him from his whimsical slumber.

Instead, you turned your attention from the film on the oversized outdoor screen to the tranquil scene of calmness beside you. Lightly tracing your fingers along the top of his scalp as you laid on your side, ever so slowly running your fingers through the remnants of his mohawk as he breathed steadily within the grip of deep sleep.

Soap always had trouble sleeping at night. Whether it be from the nightmarish memories of his previous deployments, or new found fears he had only just begun to conjure up within his mind, sleep always seemed to perpetually dance around taunt him, no matter how hard he tried to give in.

But here, in the back of his 4Runner and amongst a crowd of movie goers and intricate white noise, he could find peace. And you’d be damned if you did anything to take that away from him.

You felt a slight tinge of embarrassment at how easily you fell in love with watching him sleep. And guilty, a sense that somehow you were almost stealing these precious moments of rest from him. Taking advantage of his unconscious vulnerability for your own selfish need to witness and cache these serene moments for yourself.

And you did.

As the dim light of the drive-in danced across his dreamlike expression, you shifted all focus and attention from the film to bask in the tranquility that was him.

Laying your head on his chest to lose yourself in the rhythmic cadence of his heart. A gentle smile curling into your lips as you felt the groggy movement of his arm behind you, pulling you in closer with a sleepy groan.

The world slowly began to melt away as you both enjoyed the closeness of one another. Low, rumbling vibrations of the films soundtrack rolling through the hull of the vehicle, eliciting a muffled giggle as your mind recalled a more robust vibration Soap preferred in the back of his 4Runner.

"What's s'funny, hen?" Soap managed through a drowsy whisper. Tilting his chin down to tenderly kiss the top of your forehead.

"Nothin'. Just enjoying the moment, love."

"Mhmm. Yer a terrible liar, lass."

Your smile widened, looking up to meet the cerulean fire of his eyes draped behind heavy lids. His signature mischievous grin telling all you needed to know about his full intentions for the night.

And you were more than happy to put on a show for him. Appreciating his decision to park in the back as you both created your own soundtrack for the night.

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

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

[brewed-pangolin]

so we know Soap loves to go off roading, but is his 4runner a manual or automatic 😫

Unfortunately, it's automatic. Toyota stopped making the manual transmission 4Runner's back in 2000, if I remember correctly.

I believe they'll be bringing them back this year (2024, maybe) but with the 4 cylinder engine.

Not that I'm bashing the more streamlined power capacity, but my man ain't gonna be driving that.

He needs horse power. Torque. And proficient towing capacity for a midsized SUV.

Full blown 4Runner ramble under the cut.

This is why he went the '22 TRD Off Road. 4.0 liter, V6 engine that purrs like a kitten on the road and growls like a beast while tackling the trail.

I've already made a post about his desired tire of choice here. (I love throwing the pavlovian effect on the squad. It's so much fun)

He does have lift kit. Yet only added an extra inch to remain compatible with the KDSS (Kinetic Dynamic Suspension System. 4Runners are made to go off road, not much need for after-market additions when they're already almsot perfect)

Now you're probably going to ask if he has the snorkel. And the answer is, hell yes. Water won't stop this beast of vehicular engineering. It'll plow through it with ease, like the parting of the seas.

And I see him keeping the black trim and black on red TRD rims. He also went with the Nautical blue paint job because of course he did. Pair that with the full black out tint, and this is sexiest thing you've ever seen while out backpacking through the woods (besides the man sitting in the driver seat)

I could go on for hours about this man's vehicular baby (he calls her his breagha (Scots for pretty/beautiful)). But I'll leave you all with this.

Much love, and get off the beaten path 💛 (pun very much intended)

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

[babey-fruit-bat]

Me if you care rn

I need cbf!Johnny to swoop in and remind me of the blissful years of my youth while dicking me down into the mattress. Just to reaffirm the importance of friendship for reasons that I can't think of.

You know who this is from...

-💛

What if he reaffirms the importance of y'all's friendship after picking you up from a date?

And by pick up, I mean interrupt.

See, someone had managed to get you to give them your number.

Surprising, honestly, because you were a bit picky with the men you let into your life. That the guy had hair the color of damp soil and the Caribbean Sea in his eyes was merely coincidental.

It was all going well enough, until you went a dinner date with him, and Johnny seats himself at your table.

John fucking MacTavish.

If looks could kill.

You reached over and pinched the cartilage of his ear with your nails— twisting it until he gave a pained yelp.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be across the world on a mission or something?" you hiss.

As Johnny responds to you, his unwavering gaze remains fixated on your date.

"Obviously not, hen. Went home t'find ye missin'. Was worried somethin' happened t'ye. Wha's the lad?"

Your date uneasily clears his throat. "I'm uh—," but Johnny briskly flicks his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Dinnae answer tha'— was rhetorical. Ah'll be takin' my bonnie now, aye?" Leaning in, Johnny's hand firmly clasps his shoulder, eliciting a wince from your date. "Fer the sake of yer health, delete'r number."

You didn't dare interrupt as he bullied your date out of the restaurant nor resist when he dragged you to his vehicle with the oversized tires that you could hear a mile away.

And that's how you ended up in this position— thighs pressed against your sweat-slick chest, his rough hands keeping you in place, and your feet positioned near his ears, as he split you open with his cock.

"All ye needed t'do was wait fer me. Ah'd give ye anythin' ye want— just gotta ask." His deep voice rolled over you like a wave, leaving you breathless.

Your eyes crossed when he bottomed out, a toe-curling blend of pleasure and pain setting your nerves ablaze.

Gently, he leans down and captures your lips with his own hungrily— swallowing a moan that came from the back of his throat.

All senses but touch dull when he begins to move. The drag of his length along your swollen, tender walls. The coarse, dense hair on his chest brushing against your feverish skin— awakening every nerve ending. His warm tongue curling with yours, peppermint on your taste buds.

It's quickly becoming too much.

Johnny breaks away with a groan, strings of glistening saliva connecting you both, and gazes down at you—his eyes shimmering with an ethereal luminescence under the moon's soft light.

He grinds down, his trimmed pubic hair brushing against your slippery pearl, and a high-pitched keen slithered from behind your teeth.

"Tha's it, hen, take yer pleasure from me. I'm all ye need. Tha's wha' ah'm fer; To give ye what ye need, as yer best friend, aye?" he purrs.

There is no fighting him. There is no want to fight him, either.

He's all you need.

"Atta lass," his lips brush the shell of your ears as he breathes, "Ahm' all ye'll ever need."

Any words that sat on your tongue turned to ash when he began to thrust.

"Til death do us part, bonnie."

he would chain the very heavens and drag them down if you asked it of him.