#john mactavish

[clinquantribbons]

cod soulmate!au where soulmates bear each other’s scars and simon walks around with this awful, puckered scar on his temple for the rest of life after johnny’s death. no one else ever sees it, what with his ever present mask and overgrown curls, but he does. he can’t look himself in the mirror without remembering the love of his life and how he was murdered.

[laswells-ashtray]

A costume party isn't exactly where Kyle would like to spend his evening, but it's a fun once-in-a-while occasion. After being told to bring a friend, he recruits Johnny for his own amusement.

He expects the man to show up dressed like Connor MacLeod from The Highlander, William Wallace or like a character from Still Game. Something undeniably Scottish. He's proven wrong and an idiot.

He's a fool to think a man with four sisters would show up as anything less than Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality.

Johnny makes it clear, rather quickly, that the idea was not his, but he lost out on a "shitebag if ye don't" to his oldest sister, and so he shall walk with pride, if not unsteadily in the heels. The lilac dress was not made to accommodate someone with such a wide torso and a lack of boobs; the wig is cheap and looks it; the entire costume is terrible. It's the greatest thing Kyle has ever seen.

Countless photos are taken; several enter his blackmail folder. They're an odd mix: The Terminator and Miss Congeniality, but people eat it up, and the drunker they get, the more they fall into their roles.

It isn't until they're both drunk, and Johnny's trying and failing to pull the dress down after getting a little too enthusiastic with his dancing, the fault lies in ABBA, that Kyle is faced with the consequences of the Scotsman's costume.

Johnny catches him staring, of course he does, Kyle doesn't have the sobriety required to be subtle as he checks out the sheer size of Johnny's legs.

His fellow sergeant bats his mascara-coated lashes and holds a hand over his crotch, arching his back without shame.

"Don't hink yer getting in ma dress, darlin. Terminator or no, a'm still a classy lady."

Kyle decides then and there that the dress stays on when they fuck.

[maelkbreab]

Soap with musk kink. Soap with musk kink.

Inspired by @rawme-price :p

Specifically this post

Recently taking up a blue collar job that has you sweating under the hot sun almost everyday, Johnny has been absolutely feral over how you're smelling. His favourites spots were your hair and neck, knowing your sweat would roll down and accumulate where your collar of your shirt is. Initially, you allowed him to have his moment, mentally reminding yourself that he will get over it eventually.

Problem is... he did not. No, this guy now expects it, waiting for you by the door, tackling you after letting you take a maximum of three steps back into the apartment.

He gets braver, tucking his nose against your armpits and taking a big sniff, rubbing himself against your thigh. "Christ, hen, ye smell incredible as always. Checked the weather today, knew the sun was about to bless me with ye scent." You try to pry him off you, especially after a long shift- only to be met with his weight pressing against you harder, a whine escaping him.

And no, you are not safe if you were working in the rain, Johnny knows no boundaries when it comes to your scent. Instead, his go to spot would be between your thighs, hands gripping them firm despite your protests with his nose pressed against your crotch.

If you two were intimate, you bet your ass he will yank your pants off, pulling your underwear to the side to lap at your perinuem. Cock or cunt, he's not picky. His cleaning work is thorough as he licks your folds, bonus points if you are unshaved. It just means there is more for him to suck. Speaking of sucking, he will take a chunk of your outer labia into his mouth, gently teething and rolling them between his teeth.

If you have a cock, his favourite spot is the base of your shaft, inhaling deeply and licking. You caught him having his eyes rolling back from that, drunkenly moaning out your name before going back to sniffing.

It has gotten a bit much, forcing you to sneak in from the back just to avoid him. First time he caught you, he set up a small alarm that would notify him of your 'sneaky' return. If he did catch you, he'll be firmer in not letting you go, making sure he got his fill of your scent before releasing you.

Hell, you tried sneaking straight into the bathroom just to shower, not wanting to deal with his bullshit that day. He was pouting and mumbling under his breath, saying along the lines of, "Can't believe they'd do tha' to me. Absolute traitor." The next time you tried that again, you noticed your soaps were swapped out to smell like him. Yeah... you do not want to use his 9-in-1 products.

Safe to say, he will be taking whatever precaution possible to prevent you from getting your work sweat off you. So... might as well get used to this routine.

[vinctki]

TW: INJURY, BLOOD, SCARS

but it's got a good ending i promise

switched backstories again

[doavttirmold]

Old stuff⛄

- Need a hairbrush, Soap?

- Are you kidding...

[badcatrobot]

Shadowed meetings. A VampirexPriest ghoap AU.

It's a dark August night deep in the London countryside. Father MacTavish is standing outside the old Saint Alban's cathedral, squinting into the frigid mist that has settled over grass. He knows something is watching him, waiting for a moment of weakness from the usually focused priest. A rustling in the trees behind the old stone woodpile shed makes father Mactavish whirl around. The candles from inside the cathedral casts shadows in the trees and for a heart stopping second father MacTavish swears he see's it. He stops breathing, squinting into the darkness with the focus only a holy man can possess when hunting something so evil. That's when the creature strikes, it's a blur of motion, black smoke and the scent of sulphur hangs in the air where father MacTavish stood seconds ago. The cathedral doors slam shut, echoing hollowly across the empty courtyard like cannon fire. Father MacTavish finds himself standing inbetween the pews. He takes a deep, stuttering breath. The priest's eyes are wide, the candlelight highlighting the deep blue. Standing apon the altar under the very statue of Christ he supposedly mocks stands Simon Riley. Or rather what once was Simon Riley, this creature, this monster is a mockery to the man Father MacTavish once knew long ago. Long before he was grey in the beard and a holy crusader. This is a vampire or a vampyre depending on how you look at it. For a single breath the air inside Saint Alban's is completely and utterly still. The candles stop flickering, the shadows hold their breath, and then he moves. The monster is beside Father MacTavish in a heart beat. A sound so low, so gutteral it shouldn't count as human language vibrates through the air, "Johnathan." The name is said like a plea, a prayer. Simon doesn't step closer, he watches the man he once loved, now frozen in fear. Father MacTavish is pale, his freckles standing out in stark relief now. He turns slowly, hand instinctively moving towards the Rosary around his neck but he stops mid grab as realisation sets in. Simon is standing inside a church, a cathedral, a wooden cross isn't going to save him. So instead he forces air into his lungs, he forces himself to move back a single step.

Part 1/?

[gofishygo]

doomed ghoap where they hate themselves more than they love each other