#ive written soap as a dirty little gremlin so i was obligated to write him as the most baby simp for his girl

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 9 - praise kink

soap x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 900 words, established relationship, praise kink, dryhumping/kissing/touching but no actual sex.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

You’ve had a hunch about your boyfriend for a while. Not that you thought he would hide anything from you. You just think that even he doesn’t know about it. 

It first piqued in your mind the day you and Johnny moved in together. He had (thankfully) roped his army buddies into coming over to help the two of you. While you spent the day moving boxes into the correct rooms and getting a jump on unpacking, him and the three other big strong men had focused on the worst part: furniture. 

With a little swearing, most of the bigger pieces had made it out of the truck and up the stairs. It was his massive sofa that had given them the most trouble. What started with just him and Kyle trying to figure out how to geometrically even fit the pieces of the large sectional around the tight curves of the stairwell and through the tiny doorways, ended with the big guy with the mask - Simon, you believe - and Johnny doing the lifting and moving basically blind while John and Kyle formed a chain of choreographers to guide them home.

When the last piece was finally dropped in the living room, the guys gathered to give one another a quick, brotherly congratulations. You, however, had snuck up behind your boyfriend to wrap him a squeezing hug. You ignored the sweat pouring off of him, and any potential embarrassment with praising him in front of his guy friends to loudly tell him, “Wow, baby! You did it, and such a good job! I’m so proud.”

That had pulled a chuckle from the three other exhausted men. They had given him a little bit of grief with small comments about “happy wife, happy life” and the like. You didn’t give your poor boyfriend time to respond, peeling away to pull some refreshments out of the fridge now that their work was done. Maybe you should have, because by the time you returned, the blush hadn’t fallen from Johnny’s face and the gaze that followed you was positively predatory. 

It was smaller incidents after that. You would come home to the dishes or laundry done. Without even thinking you would peck a kiss on his cheek and drop a small bit of praise. “Good job, honey.” “Thanks, baby.” “Looks amazing!” It was never over the top, and you don’t remember using it all that much. When you did, though, he absolutely acted different afterward. If you praised him for washing the dishes, you never came home to so much as a dirty fork again. Everything was washed, dried, and in military order. He even scrubbed down the sink. 

Weird, you thought at the time, but nothing out of the ordinary. It always took a while for couples to adjust to living together, finding out who was better suited to which chores and what-not. Johnny tended to have more time on his hands than you anyway, especially when on leave. 

No, what made you double take was how he seemed to come to expect it. You nearly ran into him while rushing out of the bathroom. You were just trying to get to work on time, but your beloved Johnny had stopped you, catching your attention to ask if you had noticed how clean the tiles in the shower were. 

“Yes, Johnny,” you had said, subconsciously pulling him down to your level with a wrap of your arms around his shoulders, your lips already pursed in a kiss. “Very clean. You did a good job.”

It was the groan that rumbled in his chest that caught you off guard. Sure, he was like that when you two were intimate, but just thanking him for doing chores? It wormed into your brain as you pulled away, giving a quick excuse that you had to leave for work. You thought about it your whole commute, all day long, and even on your ride home. As you slipped into bed next to his sleeping form, the thought you wrestled over all day had fully taken root, blooming into a terrible, terrible idea. 

Maybe you could use his desires to your advantage.

It didn’t take long for an opportunity to present itself. Johnny woke you up the next morning with a whine and roll of his hips, erection jutting into your ass. Instead of shooing him away and insisting you needed to at least brush your teeth like you usually did, you let him continue. He turned you on your back, warm hands running up your ribs while kissing your neck. A smile spread across your face. Oh, you did like that. 

“Baby,” you moaned, arching into his kisses, “Feels so good.”

You weren’t sure what to expect. If, maybe, it wouldn’t be enough praise or his brain wasn’t fully awake for you to take advantage. He answered your question with a groan and another roll of his hips, mouth opening to nip at your pulse. His fingers itching upward had you sighing out to him again.

“Make me feel so good,” you whined. And, like he was expecting it, as soon as the words left your lips he was rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tearing a sudden, “Johnny!” from you.

“Drive me wild with that shit,” he huffed, pressing a muscled thigh between your legs, giving you something to rut against while rolling up against your hip. 

“Talking?” you asked in a fucked-out drawl. Your brain was melting all too quickly into pleasure, not even having to play stupid.

“Tellin’ me what you like. When I do good,” he said breaking away from your neck to spread sloppy kisses across your jaw to your lips. The fingers on your nipple rolled and pinched, sending a spike of pleasure through you that had you shouting and shaking. “Keep going,” he sighed against your lips. “Please?”