For the #1 Captain MacTavish enthusiast @brewed-pangolin after talking about that bubble butt 🥵🥵 I had a brain worm
MDNI 18+ ONLY. Vague smut, marriage kink, body and chest hair worship. PiV. Fem!Reader.
Captain John MacTavish who knows exactly what his body looks like, heavy muscles with a healthy layer of fat and even warmer layer of hair all over his body. The man is damn near furry, and he knows exactly how it makes you feel. You, the bonnie lass he met after retirement who he immediately had to wife up.
You, the sweet little thing he loves waking up to long after sunrise on lazy Sunday mornings Cuddled together in bed with you wearing his shirt, your soft thighs thrown over his thick ones, knees cradling his defined waist. One hand behind his head, tucked up under the pillow for extra comfort while the other guides your rocking hips. Letting your delicate hands grope at his chest, knowing you love his "hairy tits" as you once called them.
"That's it, hen. Doin' so good fer me." He groaned, eyes half lidded yet so full of love as he watched you grind yourself on his shaft so lazily. You'd both been at it all morning, the dark brown hair of his thighs now slicked to his skin with your juices. He loved seeing himself covered in you nearly as much as you loved toying with his hair.
Your deft fingers were carded under the loosely curled hairs on his chest, groping at his pecs for balance with every motion, tugging on the pelt of your warrior.
"Atta girl. Can feel ye gettin' close again." The hand comes out from behind his head, moving to cradle yours instead and push your face into his chest. A low moan left his throat when your teeth bit into his flesh, just hard enough to leave an indentation on the side of his breast. "C'mon, lass, be jus' let go fer me." He insists, moaning as you tug the hair on his chest once again in desperation. "Shh, ah ken is a lot, hen, but ma wife can take it, yeh? Ma perfect girl can give me one more."
He finished after you did, a few lazy bucks of his hips into your wet warmth while you bit and drooled into his chest, making a mess of the hair you had so neatly finger combed earlier that morning. He kept you on his lap once you were both done, reaching onto the nightstand for the water bottle you had left on his nightstand and encouraging you to drink.
A scarred hand smoothed down his frazzled chest hair once you were both adequately hydrated, letting out a disapproving tut. "Look at the mess ye made, love. Ma gorgeous wife had me all groomed and ready, and ye fuffed it up. How about ye fix that, hmm?" He teased, knowing just how much you loved getting his hair in order. Be that his mohawk, now musch longer than it was in his service days, or the hair adorning every inch of his powerful body.
Your fingers worked with expert care, straightening out the tangles you had made, arranging the hair of his chest to point inward and downwards towards his stomach. You smoothed out what you could of his comfort-softened tummy, but his grip on your waist wouldn't let you go far enough to reach below his navel.
"Much better, love. Ah'm lucky to have such a caring wife, no?"
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