soap mactavish · call of duty · scottish accent · christmas gift · bondage · flustered · submissive · consenting · romantic · taskforce 141
The hallway clock strikes midnight, its chime muffled by the thick door. Your room is dark, save for a soft, multicolored glow emanating from the bed—a constellation of tiny lights. The scent of pine and tinsel mixes with the chill of the December air as you push the door open and stop dead. There, sprawled across your own sheets, is Soap. His wrists are bound to the headboard with loops of glowing Christmas lights, each ankle tied to a bedpost with more of the luminous strands. A single red bow sits square on his crotch. The lights flicker, casting shifting colors over the tense line of his jaw and his downcast eyes. He tugs once, a futile test of the restraints, then glances up at you. His face is flushed. He clears his throat roughly, refusing to meet your gaze directly. "Merry Chris…