#soap

[druap]

some recent sketches from twitter

[spiritusnocte]

Sketches.

[cherishedpngs]

soap bar pngs ☆

[rejected-reapermain]

More fnf Ghoap AU doodles💕✨

[blingblong55]

It’s so funny to think of him forgetting about what could be dubbed a good wank session because he needs to get the proportions right. Ass needs to be the right size or else he is not really stroking to the right person. And then don’t get him started on the tits/pecs. If it ain’t right, there’s no justification to spilling his bloodline on a page just no way

Boyfriend!Johnny being drunk in his apartment trying to open his phone so he can get off to a photo of you, but he fat thumbs his password too many times and locks himself out

cut to him trying to sloppily draw you in his journal from memory. graphite smearing on the side of his hand as he tries to sketch you, poor chubbed up cock forgotten because, “Naw, tha’ nae right— got tae get their lips right”. he wakes up a couple hours later face pressed to his journal with a nonsensical picture of you, a little drool on the page

[tb-png]

COD Hades AU! - 👻🧼🖤

Soap’s telling them about his latest run lol

[aloehandsanitizer]

l’oréal kids shampoo pngs

[gazstations]

Affairs of the Heart

ASK REQUEST: find original post here

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SUMMARY

Johnny has liked you for a long time. He doesn’t know how obvious he can get. You never get it. But it turns out you’ve been assuming the wrong thing this whole time.

FANDOM: Call of Duty 

PAIRINGS: John MacTavish x reader

WORD COUNT: 2,103 words

WARNINGS: Good ol’ miscommunication, I’m probably writing Soap’s accent wrong, no extreme warnings

◇ Notes: In everything I write, Johnny always ends up a little bit obsessive and I think that really captures who he is. Am I right? Idk how I feel about this one, but you guys are the judges.

○●○ NAVIGATION MASTERLIST

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

SOMETIMES JOHNNY WANTED TO WRING YOUR NECK.

He had never met anyone so sweetly oblivious to romantic advancements. If he was another person—a far smarter one—he would cut his losses and bar off the part of him that craved you. Yet, he always had a cruel desire to torture himself, he supposed. A masochist for emotional turmoil.

But all of this? He wanted to bang his head against the wall. Maybe that would rewrite his synapses until he forgot you. No, he never wanted to forget you. You were so frustrating. He wanted to cup your face and kiss you silly.

Knowing you, you would probably still find a way to assume he was just being friendly.

Gaz suggested that his object of affection just wasn’t interested and didn’t know how to let him down easy. Normally, maybe Johnny would agree and forget about you. Plenty of fish in the sea. Only the one fish he wanted was currently taking him on a dreadful tour of the deep waters.

Maybe Gaz was right. If he got scared by the black waters, you wouldn’t have to voice your disdain for his constant pursuing.

However, his ma didn’t raise a quitter.

He was at risk of you actually getting annoyed and taking his heart and crumbling it in your fingers. Was he in love with you? Not yet. But he could see it now. You’d be so easy to love, and he would be good at it.

Today, you were having a bad day. He could smell the acid as soon as he walked into the common room. You were there, nestled at a table alone, a few other soldiers scattered about. He paid them no mind, instead zeroing in on your hunched form. Dread filled his stomach.

Who had hurt his bonnie thing?

“Bad day?” He asked as he casually slid into the seat next to you.

He didn’t miss the way you wiped at your eyes discreetly, pulling a frown to his lips. The sight wasn’t right. He wanted to see happiness blooming on the sweetness of your lips. To see that dewey glow on the apples of your cheeks.

“Bad day…” you repeated with a discontented scoff.

“Ye want a hug?” He offered already opening his arms. Eager mutt.

You relented. Not enthusiastically, but you still allowed him to envelop your form. He was broad and smelled like sweat. He had recently been training. The faint cedar deodorant he used was prevalent as he tucked you into his arm.

“Ye wanna go tae the pub?” He asked when he finally released you from his shackles. He was puffed up now, that little interaction doing more than you realized.

“Now?” you responded. “I mean… I have a couple of things…”

“Nae. Later,” Soap corrected. “Dinnae fash. Ye got time.”

You watched him with an unreadable expression as your eyebrows quirked. It was cute, watching you go through your thought process live. You always thought a lot. Always trapped in that prison. He hoped it wasn’t storming in your brain.

“Don’t you go with Ghost to the pub on Fridays?” You finally asked.

“Ach. He willnae mind. Lad is busy,” Soap dismissed.

He watched you purse your lips. He wanted to pick apart your brain like sweet petals on a sunflower. What would each layer hold? He wanted to explore who you were down to the very prime core. The very stakes that held up the foundation. Were they polished neat? Were they full of grime, dirtied down to the ends as they were shoved into the ground?

“Okay. I can go for a couple drinks,” you finally relented, and Soap could feel a grin pulling at his lips. “But I'm not getting drunk.”

Soap beamed. “Ah will take care of ye.”

♡◇♡

True to his word, Soap didn't let intoxication get out of hand. He didn't want to give you the impression he was some untethered wild animal that frothed at the mouth whenever it came time to quench his thirst on something divine. He was coordinated and calculated when he wanted to be.

He finally got you to relent and chance an outing with him. He wasn't going to waste it.

His fascination was cruelty. It shackled him down onto his knees in your land. He hungered for your attention, no matter how little scraps you gave him. He knew you didn't hate him. You just never connected the dots. That the man was irrevocably caught in your web.

“Been comin’ ‘ere fer 5 years,” Soap spoke against the tense silence.

He had never been so beaten down by anxiety before. He could talk up a pretty bird just fine most days. End up in their sheets just as fast. He was no stranger to instant gratification of sex, and he loved those simple pleasures.

You were his friend, though. At least he wanted to assume. He yapped a lot of nonsense in your presence, and you never barked at him and bared your teeth. He found himself craving that instead of the honeyed flesh between your legs. It became more than what Soap was used to.

“Surprised you didn't get banned yet.” You mused.

You took a sip of your drink, and Soap found himself zeroing in on the way your lips parted and your throat bobbed. Enticing. He was completely hopeless, smitten, and maybe even horny in one. But he didn't want to make his relationship about the latter of the three. He was trying really hard to be a good boy.

“Ah got a wee bit of charm, love,” Soap remarked. If he was a wild animal, he would be a peacock, puffing up his iridescent feathers in hopes you took a bite.

“Mhm. I've seen you blacked out, nothing charming about it,” you said back.

“Aye. How am ah sober?” Soap put his elbow on the bartop and leaned closer to you.

His eyes softened when he looked at you. Were you really that bloody oblivious to the signs he was putting off? Or did you know and just didn't want to let him down easy? Knowing his luck, it was the latter.

“Slightly more charming,” you gestured with your index and thumb, pulling them slightly apart to show how much you thought it qualified.

Soap drank it up like the last droplets in a frozen pipe.

“Slightly? How does a lad do better?” He inquired. He glanced down at your lips again and salivated like a damn mutt. There was still a droplet of your drink beading on your bottom lip.

“Dunno. You have to figure that out.”

Soap liked a challenge. He reveled in it. Maybe that’s why he pursued you time and time again, even if there wasn't a happy ending in sight. Not yet, at least. He wouldn't give up until you pushed back against him and hissed. But you were so sweet, you would never do that.

Although, Soap had a knack for unlocking unexpected reactions.

“What do you and Ghost do for fun?” You asked randomly. Soap raised an eyebrow, confusion forming in his one track mind.

“LT and I?” He scratched at the bit of scruff on his face. “Dinnae think LT has fun.”

“No?” You tilted your head and grew thoughtful.

What were you thinking? He was going to wring himself dry trying to figure that out, he was sure of it. You weren't so straightforward as he was used to. Even Ghost had more outward emotions than you most days.

“So you don't take him on dates?” You asked.

Soap nearly choked on his drink when he heard those words. He flushed and looked like a deer in headlights as he processed those words. Was that what his sweet bonnie thought this whole time? You were going to murder him without lifting a finger one day.

“Dates?” He let out a small, incredulous laugh. It sounded pained more than anything. “Oh, love. Did ye think…?”

He found he liked the way you flustered and bit your lip. He was no better. How in the hell did you assume he and Ghost were… bloody hell? Sure he joked about marrying the Lieutenant so they could always be together, but the older man just rolled his eyes at the Scot's antics. There was never anything going on.

Plus, Ghost was smitten with a little civilian bird who made him a little treat every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning. Bloody bastard was worse than him. Maybe they both had a thing for lasses that looked right at the signs and still read them wrong.

“You're not…? But everyone says…” you shamed yourself in your alcohol and Soap internally cooed.

“Tsk. Only rumors, hen.” Soap brushed off.

He didn't mind really. There were worse people to be bunched together with and rumored to be dating. He would gladly be pinned with Ghost. Though, he definitely wanted to pin you down more.

“Is tha’ why ye're evadin' me?” He asked a moment later.

“Huh?” You lifted your gaze and gave him a quizzical look.

“Oh, hen. We got a lot of catchin' up tae do.”

♡◇♡

Soap loved a good drama. He loved starting it even more. He always sparked little fires here and there, just to keep the natural flow of the world spinning. He couldn't sit still half of the time. He was always a very agitated kid.

Now he was an even more ruthless adult that had the extravagant galore of opportunity at his fingertips.

The next morning, thankfully only a bit tipsy after the pub, he paraded your hesitant form down the hallways. You, always suspicious by default, tried to glue your feet to the ancient carpeting. He could tell you would rather frighten like a little doe rather than find out what he had planned.

He could feel you halfway out the door, muscles coiled tight when he stopped you in front of Ghost. He smiled wide, eyes still gleaming with amusement from your revelation last night.

“Right. LT, the wee lass has assumed quite the funny thing…” Soap started, patting you on the back. He ignored the glare you sent him. He was the equivalent to a dog that brought his owner a gift, as he wagged his tail and preened.

“Is that right?” Ghost looked between the both of you.

“Hen thinks ye and ah are rompin’ in the sheets,” Soap says.

He heard your exhale as you spluttered out an explanation. “Dating! I thought dating. Not what he said.”

Soap watched with blissful delight as he saw the faintest hint of amusement fall over Ghost. He knew his little tells after serving for so long beside him. His left eyebrow always rose and the mask moved as the man smiled. He always tilted his head just the tiniest bit as well.

“You listen to rumors then?” Ghost prompted and you shrunk, as if you expected to be physically struck. Soap would never let that happen. No one would ever be allowed to mark up your flesh.

“Well… I… yes… I suppose I do,” you decided lying wasn’t worth it. You were around two mutts that sniffed out bullshit for a living.

Ghost analyzed you for a long moment, even Soap found himself intimidated. He hovered behind you instinctively, even if he knew Ghost wouldn’t harm you. Maybe he wanted to assure you more than anything. The Lieutenant was amused, not insulted.

“You spent all that time fussing over a rumor to realize the mutt was after you this whole time,” Ghost finally said.

“Aye. He’s right,” Soap nodded his head vigorously, staring at you intently as he waited for your response.

Soap rocked on the balls of his feet eagerly. He was full of humor, but he really was just a simple man desiring companionship. He didn’t often get to that point, but this time it came as swift as a punch to the gut. The attraction really did hit him head on like that.

In their line of work, it was hard to indulge in long term pleasures. Life was always revolving and he didn’t even know if he’d be six feet under in a casket the next day. It was all up in the air and he often felt it was selfish to seek out someone who wanted a deeper connection.

He decided to bite the bullet this time. You were too good of a chance to pass up. He’d be happy and secure with you, he could feel it.

You finally opened your mouth to speak. “And here I thought he was being friendly the whole time.”

Steamin’ Jesus, Soap was going to wring your neck one day.

[littlevenicebiatch]

What if you return the favor and draw on Johnny? :] I loved it, feel free to ignore.

He looked so peacefull when he was alseep. Hugging his pillow, snoring silently. Johnny, oh Johnny, too bad his slumber was about to be disturbed. You took your sharpies and got to work.

Three hours later

"son of a bitch!" You heard his voice before you saw him. Then there he came, yelling at you angrily. "What the hell did you do to my head?"

You only managed to giggle at Soap, his bald spots on the side of his head were covered in fake wounds and cuts. "Just returning your favour." "I am gonna kill you lass." He yelled, but you were faster, sprinting away from you, so you went through base and ended up in Johns office.

"Hide me." "Excuse me?" He looked up from his paperwork. So you just crouched down underneath his desk. The door baltzed open. "Did you see Y/N?" "uhhm" John looked down. "No, I havent." "Damn it" Soap yelled, then he left again. "Care to explain, doll?" Price asked softly.

thanks for the idea, once again I have to say, I am open to any and all suggestions

[fastleopard1521]

@cptpricelvr @acupofzoey

happy valentines day :]

[s0apsuds]

I love rodolfo but i feel like he is usually only ever liked by people cuz of alejandro x rodolfo

like i love that ship, but also, he’s a great character on his own without people making his whole character revolve around that ship

i need more rodolfo fans </3

[machveil]

I don’t think we, as a community, talk enough about Johnny’s hair growing out. his neatly buzzed sides and short mohawk a little longer after a long deployment, guy, c’mon. the vision, guys, the vision

[brav0-6]

THE PRICE PAT™️ | CALL OF DUTY: MODERN WARFARE II & III

[zel1nks]

I’m bisexual, which means I like women and Simon Ghost Riley and Johnny Soap MacTavish

[goldencoppermechanic]

Thinking about playing a billiards game with Soap, yellowish bar lights surrounding the table as you play, residual cigarette smoke curling around the bulbs.

Setting up a shot when he leans over your shoulder, painstakingly watching every move you make, before nodding in resignation pride as one of the glossy orbs falls into place, dissapears into a shadowy hole inside the table.

"I'm right impressed, hen," he says, nursing the last dregs of his beer, knocking it back as he pretends not to let it get to his head, analyzing his next play.

"Sure you are," You tease, watching him walk around the table, eyes flitting here and there, calculating, strategizing, and then finally setting up a shot, bending over the edge, balancing the cue between his fingers.

It would take a higher power to redirect your eyes from the enticing curve of his ass, jeans stretched helplessly over the biteable shapes. He seems to struggle visualizing his next play, sliding the tip of the wooden cue rapidly back and forth over his knuckles, keeping him from shooting. The corner of your mouth quirks up as Johnny suddenly feels a weight against his back, a creeping warmth against his forearms that makes the dark hair on the base of his fingers rise.

"A little to the left, sergeant," you whisper airily to his cheek, letting him feel the weight of your breasts against his muscled back, shifting his stance to your liking. "Let me show you."

He holds his breath as you lead, cheap alcohol coursing through his veins as he tries to focus. "Steamin' Jesus," he mutters under his breath, an expected stirring in the front of his boxers, finally pulling his wrist back for real, lining up, up, up...

... And missing completely, a white flash thumping against nothing.

Him turning around, shoulders straight, face absolutely indignant, brows pulled together, accusatory.

"Are ye fooking joking, hen?"

Barely holding yourself together as you hold your cue in front of your face, splitting your triumphant smile in two neat even lines, face warming from the rush.

"Never heard of friendly fire before, Mactavish?" You gleam, tapping your cue to his sharply, a quick clack resounding in the smoky air, twisting around his frowny bulk, hollowing your back to have another go, taking your time.

Only to have the same privilege of having a sturdy, vengeful heft pressing to your arse, two strong hands at your hips, holding you deceptively steady...

"Och, I'll be friendly with ye," he scoffs in your ear, pulling back, only to be met with a hard thrust of his hips just as you were about to shoot, knocking the ball uselessly across the green fabric, coaxing a surprised uh! from your lungs.

Following it up with a breathless laugh, you straighten your spine, pushing up from the table, finding that you can't. Suddenly realizing Johnny's burly hands are placed on either side of your body, caging you in, feeling him take a deep huff of your hair, keeping you prone.

A playful heat burns as he grinds his chubby hard on against the junction of your hips, uncaring of any curious gazes.

"But I bet ye cannae wait until ye find out what we do with dirty traitors," he growls out.

And you know what? You really, really can't wait.