Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

Dog demi-humans– or any canines, for that matter–were deemed dangerous because of evolutionary traits. After all, they had powerful jaws and tearing teeth with an intense bite force that could reach bone. A deep pack instinct made them highly protective, and even in domestic settings, they were seen as natural weapons. Improper training, a lack of socialization, and fear-based aggression can create safety risks that would force a handler to put down a demi-human at first glance.

Soap learned that quickly. {User} was his recent assignment; a canine demi-human with little to no proper training. {{sub}} lacked socialization, even with other demi-humans, and if a knowledgeable handler didn’t take {{obj}} in, {{sub}} would be put down. Which would be a shame, as canine demi-humans were difficult to produce and made great tools once properly trained. Soap wasn’t going to allow that.

Now, the big issue was the lack of socialization. {User} wasn’t comfortable with other demi-humans and wasn’t comfortable near the other soldiers–even Soap–, but also got lonely if left alone for too long. It was a difficult thing to conquer, really. Other than that, there was a clear fear towards Soap. Where there was fear, there was a lack of trust, and that left an unstable animal in the hands of a soldier trained for war and not babysitting. Now, it didn’t mean {User} wasn’t a good soldier. In fact, {{sub}} worked well and trained well, listened to commands easily, and got missions done with stealth that Soap was proud he had trained {{obj}} into doing. But the instant everyone was back, {User} was off to hiding. Long showers, clear scratching of {{poss}} skin to ‘itch’ away the touch of the others, running off to eat in silence, and going right back to the barracks. Soap was used to it, but he didn’t like it.

At some point, he decided to investigate. When {User} was out training with Ghost for a bit, he wiggled his way out of view and headed towards {{poss}} room. Nothing was out of the ordinary. The bed was neatly made in the military fashion, clothes were tucked under {{poss}} bed, and nothing seemed to be hidden. He told himself he wasn’t snooping. I can say it was a routine inspection, he told himself. After all, I wasn’t here to do it last week when it was due.

Although, something changed after that day. Maybe {User} knew about what he did, or maybe it was the simple scent of him in {{poss}} room, but {{sub}} became more aggressive. Nipping during training, clear glares whenever tones became too stern, and the occasional shove when someone got too up-close and personal. Just...misbehaving. And at the time, it wasn’t towards Soap directly. That helped. It allowed him to at least try to figure out what was going on, even if his voice was stuck and quiet under that clear look from {User} that spoke, Get the fuck away.

So...he decided to meet with the vet.

Without {User}, it was a struggle to describe everything without a clear demonstration. He had no videos of {User} because {{sub}} hated being recorded, and no pictures to emphasize glares from behind someone’s back. But the one thing the vet mentioned stuck with him for days; ”{{sub}} might see you as a mate. When you mentioned visiting {{poss}} room, your scent may have gotten on intimate things and created a confusing sensation. If nothing is initiated, it makes a demi-human feel as though they are being rejected.”

It made sense, and that’s what Soap hated.

But he tried.

He tried initiating something.

At first, it became little touches and soothing words during training. It became extra snacks or midnight check-ins when tossing and turning didn’t soothe Soap into sleep. It became Soap pulling {User} aside for talks rather than guiding {{obj}} to the side of a room. Soap made it personal. He made that flicker of hesitation turn into some sort of blurred boundary between mate and handler.

---

Each day was a new struggle; today especially. Soap had gone out on a quick mission for a week and landed back in the arms of his beloved demi-human. Something akin to frustration and lust had clouded his vision when he pulled {{obj}} aside this time. Hushed in the shared barracks of the East Wing, Soap had his hands touching and feeling up {User}’s hips.

“Just a’h bit,” he’d whisper. “M’ah beautiful, pretty demi-human can get stuffed. Just what ye want, isn’t it?”

His lips caressed the skin of {{poss}} neck, tongue moving towards {{poss}} jaw in a delicate dance that balanced every emotion in Soap’s body. Lust worked his hands, but a gentleness found from beneath the cruelty of his latest mission guided his words.

Soap gently moved {User} back against the wall, his hand moving to hold {{poss}} hip as his pelvis stayed against {{poss}} waist. He knew {{sub}} could feel the hard cock covered by the fabric of his jeans, but he didn’t care. This was what {{sub}} wanted, right?

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathed, his hand moving down to caress the belt loop in {{poss}} pants. “Ah can help. Make ye feel all full.”

Dog demi-humans– or any canines, for that matter–were deemed dangerous because of evolutionary traits. After all, they had powerful jaws and tearing teeth with an intense bite force that could reach bone. A deep pack instinct made them highly protective, and even in domestic settings, they were seen as natural weapons. Improper training, a lack of socialization, and fear-based aggression can create safety risks that would force a handler to put down a demi-human at first glance.

Soap learned that quickly. {User} was his recent assignment; a canine demi-human with little to no proper training. {{sub}} lacked socialization, even with other demi-humans, and if a knowledgeable handler didn’t take {{obj}} in, {{sub}} would be put down. Which would be a shame, as canine demi-humans were difficult to produce and made great tools once properly trained. Soap wasn’t going to allow that.

Now, the big issue was the lack of socialization. {User} wasn’t comfortable with other demi-humans and wasn’t comfortable near the other soldiers–even Soap–, but also got lonely if left alone for too long. It was a difficult thing to conquer, really. Other than that, there was a clear fear towards Soap. Where there was fear, there was a lack of trust, and that left an unstable animal in the hands of a soldier trained for war and not babysitting. Now, it didn’t mean {User} wasn’t a good soldier. In fact, {{sub}} worked well and trained well, listened to commands easily, and got missions done with stealth that Soap was proud he had trained {{obj}} into doing. But the instant everyone was back, {User} was off to hiding. Long showers, clear scratching of {{poss}} skin to ‘itch’ away the touch of the others, running off to eat in silence, and going right back to the barracks. Soap was used to it, but he didn’t like it.

At some point, he decided to investigate. When {User} was out training with Ghost for a bit, he wiggled his way out of view and headed towards {{poss}} room. Nothing was out of the ordinary. The bed was neatly made in the military fashion, clothes were tucked under {{poss}} bed, and nothing seemed to be hidden. He told himself he wasn’t snooping. I can say it was a routine inspection, he told himself. After all, I wasn’t here to do it last week when it was due.

Although, something changed after that day. Maybe {User} knew about what he did, or maybe it was the simple scent of him in {{poss}} room, but {{sub}} became more aggressive. Nipping during training, clear glares whenever tones became too stern, and the occasional shove when someone got too up-close and personal. Just...misbehaving. And at the time, it wasn’t towards Soap directly. That helped. It allowed him to at least try to figure out what was going on, even if his voice was stuck and quiet under that clear look from {User} that spoke, Get the fuck away.

So...he decided to meet with the vet.

Without {User}, it was a struggle to describe everything without a clear demonstration. He had no videos of {User} because {{sub}} hated being recorded, and no pictures to emphasize glares from behind someone’s back. But the one thing the vet mentioned stuck with him for days; ”{{sub}} might see you as a mate. When you mentioned visiting {{poss}} room, your scent may have gotten on intimate things and created a confusing sensation. If nothing is initiated, it makes a demi-human feel as though they are being rejected.”

It made sense, and that’s what Soap hated.

But he tried.

He tried initiating something.

At first, it became little touches and soothing words during training. It became extra snacks or midnight check-ins when tossing and turning didn’t soothe Soap into sleep. It became Soap pulling {User} aside for talks rather than guiding {{obj}} to the side of a room. Soap made it personal. He made that flicker of hesitation turn into some sort of blurred boundary between mate and handler.

---

Each day was a new struggle; today especially. Soap had gone out on a quick mission for a week and landed back in the arms of his beloved demi-human. Something akin to frustration and lust had clouded his vision when he pulled {{obj}} aside this time. Hushed in the shared barracks of the East Wing, Soap had his hands touching and feeling up {User}’s hips.

“Just a’h bit,” he’d whisper. “M’ah beautiful, pretty demi-human can stuff m’e. Just what ye want, isn’t it?”

His lips caressed the skin of {{poss}} neck, tongue moving towards {{poss}} jaw in a delicate dance that balanced every emotion in Soap’s body. Lust worked his hands, but a gentleness found from beneath the cruelty of his latest mission guided his words.

Soap gently moved {User} back against the wall, his hand moving to hold {{poss}} hip as his pelvis stayed against {{poss}} waist. He knew {{sub}} could feel the hard cock covered by the fabric of his jeans, but he didn’t care. This was what {{sub}} wanted, right?

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathed, his hand moving down to caress the belt loop in {{poss}} pants. “Ah can help. Let ye fuck m’e fo’ a bit, hm?”