#soap is a dog

[bluegiragi]

government assigned animal ears

[tame-the-lion-writes]

reader x dog shifter 141 [pt.2]

(If you haven't seen it yet, here's part one.)

It’s been a couple weeks, and you’re starting to catch on to just how smart your dogs are.

Not that you know what they actually are—but they’ve got this weirdly human intelligence behind their eyes, and weirdly human personalities. The Great Dane likes to sit on the recliner in your living room, regal and commanding, often watching your front yard whenever the gardener would come over. The gardener’s son replaced him once for a job, leaving grass cuttings in the driveway, and he was all huffy about it. It amused you at first, but then you realized his judgement wasn’t reserved for strangers. He was even more huffy the time you accidentally burned a steak. (Jeez, since when was he a dad?) Not to mention the empty whiskey glasses he likes to keep around, but that's not right—dogs can't have alcohol, can they?

The German Shepherd, on the other hand, is surprisingly clingy—but not in a bump-into-your-leg or overtly cuddly kind of way. Instead, he follows you while never begging for attention, attentive and patient as though a soldier awaiting orders. You’ve been jump-scared one too many times by his presence, when you think you’re alone and he appears out of thing air. A massive giant of a dog, with paws as silent as a shadow. And he’s stubborn—doesn’t initiate contact, but you swear you’ve caught a subtle bashful glance. Especially when you scratch behind his ears and along the scar of his cheek and chin.

But what the Shepherd lacks in open affection, the Labrador makes up tenfold. He doesn't pester about it, though, simply hopping up to your side on the couch to curl up or placing his muzzle on top of your knees. Still, while probably the most obedient out of the four, you’ve seen him get roped into food heists with the Foxhound, or stalking as closely and silently as the Shepherd. Very much the little brother who tags along with whatever. But you can't stay mad at him for long, either—not when he knows how to apologize—bringing you a freshly chomped-off flower from the backyard whenever you get mad. Then he'll sit at your heels with a faint tail wag, whining 'til you're settled and appeased.

The Foxhound is perhaps the most talkative, in both a noisy and conversational way. His joy is unrelenting around you, and he greats you like you’d expect any other dog. Still, he’s awfully communicative. It’s how you’ve learned their names—with you wandering aloud what to call them, and him making faces at every suggestion. He eventually settled for playing retriever: playing charades by bringing you back bottles and bars of soap. For the Great Dane, he grabbed an old receipt from the trash. For the Shepherd, he threw on a sheet. He seemed awfully confused on what to do for the Labrador, though, and just kept whining as if in apology.

“So Soap, Price, Ghost, and…,” you trail off, glancing at the Labrador with a slight pout. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy. I really don’t know what to call you. And Soap here seems like he’s run out of braincells.”

Ghost snorts in amusement, which is returned by Soap’s unfettered glare.

The next morning, though, there really is no explanation as to how Soap learned the alphabet, how to write, or to arrange your bedsheets in the following name: GAZ.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

"Aha... what the fuck."

Price has face-palmed (face-pawed?) and Ghost just walks over and calmly almost slapstick-esque baps Soap on the head. Meanwhile, Gaz looks dejected, pressing his forehead to the front door, like he's expecting you to kick them out in the next five seconds.

Not that you would, of course—but we can queue the mild horror and existential questioning of what the hell these dogs actually are. You call your friend to rant about your theory—that they could be escapees from a top secret government laboratory, or spies from another country. She just says to enter them into a dog show, or make ‘em celebrities on social media.

[writingfromasgard]

"She was perfect. The only thing going for me." Simon mumbled, alcohol blazing through his veins as he leaned on Soap.

"She didnae break up wit' ya, mate. She needed tae go feed her dog." Soap snorted.

"I can still smell her perfume, Jawnny." Simon sniffled.

[wombywoo]

glasgow date 🧡

[mizushibart]

suits.

[majinbangus]

You've always wanted a dog. It doesn't matter what kind, you'd be happy with any, but no matter how much discussion, Soap never budges, holding the exact opposite opinion about dogs. Which you understand given his experiences with them, but it's still a little disappointing.

Until he compromises one day under the condition he gets to choose the dog. Specifically a guard dog, in his words. One he's known and worked with multiple times. One he trusts to take care of his sweet lass. One that will protect.

You get so excited, you buy the collar and everything, eagerly waiting the day Soap is coming home with the dog... only to be confused when Ghost walks in behind him, no dog in sight.

"Uh, hi, Simon?" You peek around the man. Perhaps the dog is hidden behind the man's massive frame. It's not. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?" You shoot Soap a confused look. "And where's the dog you promised me?"

Soap chuckles at your confusion. "He's right here, sweetheart." He pats Ghost's shoulder, and the man takes one big step closer to you, closing the gap within that single stride. The shadow he casts somehow makes him look larger. "You said you'd be happy with anything, and I got you the best one! Ghost'll do anything you say—sit, stay, attack—you'll love him!"

You're not quite convinced. Can't lie and say you're not a little disappointed, but all thoughts of dissatisfaction are briefly forgotten when Ghost reaches down to grab your wrist, the one loosely holding the leather dog collar in hand, and undoes the buckle for you. He then guides your limp hands to slip it around his neck, adjusting it perfectly before letting your hands drop. When he pulls away, a shiver runs through you at the hungry gleam in his eyes, smirk evident in his voice.

"Woof."

You gulp. Maybe Soap is right. Maybe you will love him.

[thebookbutterfly]

Tell me Simon Riley isn’t the kind of man to swear up and down that he doesn’t want a dog only for him to get immediately attached.

Nine times out of ten if you’re looking for where the puppy is, you’ll find him curled up next to Simon on the couch. The same couch Simon was insistent he didn’t want dog fur all over 2 weeks ago.

And if he wasn’t curled up next to Simon, chances are he was sleeping on top of him during Simon’s afternoon nap. Both of them snoring, as if the pup was copying him.

When Ghost comes home from deployment you’re no longer top of the greeting list. Your reunion kiss was now firmly relegated to after he had dealt with the overexcited, wiggly bundle of fur.

Nobody can change my mind about this.

[shotmrmiller]

kyle asking price and johnny what's up with simon having his earbuds in and phone in hand the moment they touch foot on base because before last week, he hadn't even known simon had a phone.

how did you think he got in contact with people?

i just figured he didn't.

anyway, price just shrugs and says, "gotta new girl or somethin'." johnny nods absently, lips twisted in thought.

"somethin' like tha'."

sure enough, come dinner time he can hear a higher pitched voice carrying a sense of urgency or excitement, he can't make out which it is, words coming out in a rapid fire manner.

accent is distinct too, colloquialism that hints at a different region or even country, peppered with slang he's only ever read online.

curious but it's nice to know someone's come to get to know the big man past his rough (and he means bloody rough) exterior.

he quickly tunes it out after, of course, not wanting to intrude on personal matters. but then it's a rare moment when simon's without them.

kyle manages to get snippets then.

(hey, love, just making some dinner; your favorite, actually. shrimp pasta alfredo.)

price taps him on the shoulder and he turns away, snapping back to reality. in the back of his mind, he vaguely remembers simon having an aversion to seafood.

he must be remembering wrong.

in the debrief room while they wait for price, he catches another.

(actually just finished unpacking the last of my stuff. you were a real help with this, i would've hated having to pay for movers.)

kyle recalls seeing simon haunting the hallway as per usual. he must've taken a time off.

on the way to the local strip club. why simon's there at all is a choice but his relationship with you is none of his business.

(yeah, uhm, i'm home and i checked the windows and bathroom like you taught me too. i still can't shake that feeling, yknow? i don't mean to worry you.)

since simon isn't talking to them about it, he must be getting rid of that issue soon. good on him. at least one of them gets to go back to a warm home and a soft pair of thighs.

(kyle doesn't question the other male voice in the call. nor does he question why simon isn't saying a word during it. simon's relationship with you is none of his business. he just hopes he'll get an invitation to the wedding.)

[lushrue]

something something johnny being a giant showoff (nsfw, 18+)

will come home all sweaty from the gym, the length of his mohawk stuck to his forehead. he doesn’t hit the showers first, though. no, he comes straight to you and shoves his fat fucking bicep in your face. “hit a new PR today, bonnie. like wha’ ya see?”

tells you all about the shit he blows up on missions. he doesn’t really care if it’s all super classified and everything, he wants you to know just how impressive your man is. gotta make sure you know you’ve got a capable defender. always makes himself sound like james bloody bond. “ya shoulda seen it! got there right in the nick o’ time, i did! and then, kaboom!”

milks as many orgasms as he can from you when you fuck. he’s not satisfied until you’ve cum on everything he can give you. tongue, fingers, cock. he wants it all, wants you to be drunk off the pleasure only he can give you. licks the tears from your cheeks when you cry from overstimulation. “i know, lass, i know. johnny’s makin’ you feel so good, aye? you got one more in there, i know you do.”

loves to hear you babble about how big and thick he is when he’s plunging deep in your cunt. he hits all the right spots, tip nudging your cervix and making your back arch. he almost loses it when you tell him how much he’s stretching you out, how you can feel him low in your belly, carving himself a nice little space in your guts. “yeah, tha’s fuckin’ right. no one else can make you feel this good, no one else can fill up this tight fuckin’ pussy like i can.”

and you let him fill you up because you know, deep down, no one will ever compare to your johnny.

[shadow0-1]

Trapper

[tame-the-lion-writes]

reader x dog shifter 141

There's a pack of dogs that won't leave you alone. A Great Dane, a German shepherd, and two others you can't quite pin down--a foxhound and some sort of lab, maybe? You saw them while walking home one night, and though you'd picked up the pace out of worry you'd be mauled, first impressions turned out to be the opposite. You didn't even notice the man who'd followed you down the block--not until he'd dropped his knife and was screaming bloody hell. So after calling the emergency number, and filing a police report, you took the four home with you. And that was that.

Now your friends are convinced you've got a mini army. You have to admit that the dogs function like one, too, though you chalk that up to the instincts of a pack. The Great Dane calling the shots; the shepherd biting at heels if necessary. But the foxhound is a bundle of joy who keeps getting into your food, and the lab is the sweetest boy who loves to lay his head in your lap. And sure, they're plenty of mouths to feed, but you have a good enough job. And they seem to entertain themselves, sometimes whining when you have to leave. But never doing anything to mess up the house or rile you up. And they never follow you into the bathroom, instead running out when you're about to change. Not to mention that they're oddly clean.

"When do you think she'll realize it takes human hands for Soap to get all that food?"

"Eh, give it a few more days. Would be a shame to scare her so soon.'

_

Bonus Thoughts:

Dog pile naps. Dog piling in general. It gets cold in the winter, but you don't need the fireplace to keep you warm. You've got four dog-sized heat packs to snuggle up to. And they're always in rotation for who gets to play pillow.

The only issue is that they absolutely hate men. You're convinced they're sexist since they get along with your girl friends just fine, but any guy comes over? Gets within ten feet of you? B A R K. In reality, though, they just chase off all the guys who eye you like a piece of meat. Which is most guys. Poor girl. Silly little thing. That's okay--they'll keep you safe--because you're pack now, and you're theirs.

We've got a part two!

[s3rrrpentine]

paint the town red or something idk ( ᐛ )و

me rambles:

uhhh i feel like i am being too hard on myself these days and i miss when i used to have fun and feeling satisfied drawing them doing silly things. i keep comparing myself with other talented artists so i pushed myself to be kind of like them. but. dear god. that is not me. it's a bit hard for me to follow trends when i don't feel like it. it's good for chasing numbers and i want to. but i also don't want to. sucks to be in the middle of anything and everything. like a limbo. what the hell do i even want. what do i even know. i just wanna draw ghostsoap. why does it suddenly becoming so hard on me. reminding myself to just fuck it and draw like always. somehow it's not enough and then i mess it all up all over again.

[wombywoo]

retired 🩶

[bluegiragi]

docile.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[helcef]

gayest thing you can do is light someone’s cig

what if neither ghost or soap liked smoking much but it was the only opportunity to be close to the other, no matter how brief the moment was. ghost allowing himself a second of staring at johnny in the glow of the lighter before looking away so johnny wouldn’t catch on. or smth idk

(click for better quality)

[chamomiletealeaf]

out of all the boys who do u think would have a piss kink???

Tbh I think Soap, and then secretly Ghost.

Warnings: piss kink, oral (f! receiving), little bit of squirting

Soap would enjoy fucking you until you actually piss yourself. It’s not squirt, he just fucks you so dumb and senseless that you genuinely piss yourself.

He’s made you cum like four times in a row and made you squirt twice. You’re not sure how you even have anything in your bladder at this point but Johnny always finds a way.

He’s got your thighs draped over his, back pressed against his chest as he grips your hips and fucks up into you nice and rough, making you bounce on him.

“Fuck Johnny, I- no more, I’m gonna”

“Let it out bonnie.. Cum again for me.”

“No I- not gonna cum. I- ah, I’m gonna pee.” You say as he slows down a bit to understand what you’re saying.

“I have to pee Johnny wait-.” You say as he fucks up into you even harder and faster while pressing down on your bladder with a smirk, making you squeal in panic.

“Johnny no! Stop! I- I’m gonna fucking piss myself don’t-!”

And you can’t hold it anymore so you let go.

“Aww poor bonnie lass. Got you so fucked out you can’t even control yourself anymore. Sweet little pussy is too tired out hm?” He whispers in your ear teasingly as you sob from embarrassment.

Then he picks you up and pushes you face down into the mattress, your ass up and thighs dripping, before he continues to fuck you from behind.

“C’mon one more. Already made you piss yourself. You can cum for me one more time.”

And he makes you cum again until you have tears running down your face because your poor pussy can’t take anymore :(

And Simon? He’s more civil about it. Quiet. Doesn’t really explore his new found interest.

He noticed he was into it when you had to piss so bad on a truck ride back to base. The seatbelt was digging into your bladder and you were squirming and yelping every time the truck went over a speed bump.

You shoved your hands between your thighs with a whimper and while the rest of the team made fun of you for it, Simon had to hide his now hard cock.

He wants you to sit on his face, drown him with your juicy pussy while he eats you out until he looks like he just went bobbing for apples. Bonus if you squirt on his face as he tongue fucks you, because he’s cumming immediately.