#whipped soap collection

[nectarlife]

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[queenofstresss]

Everyone needs help sometimes | Leon S. Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy/female reader

Word count: 3,3k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut but sweet as well, Leon is a horny sweetheart, unprotected sex, p in v, oral! f receiving, sub!Leon is you squint, dom!reader if you squint?, slight overstim, a scene with a certain loofa later, let me know if I missed any

a/n: this is probably all over the place lol, reader is not ashley. Proofread a few times but sorry for any mistakes that might be there. Just thought about this the other night and I had to try and whip up something for my man. Enjoy💜 cr. to who ever made the headers.

After escaping the Los Illuminados, Leon booked you guys a motel room. You both needed to shower badly, not that you couldn’t take one when you got home, but the jet ski you escaped with ran out of gas so this was more convenient.

The look on the receptionists face as she handed you the key, was horrified. You took the key and left to find your room number amongst the others. After fitting the key through the hole, Leon pushed the door open.

‘’You wanna take a shower first?’’ he asked politely as he took his shoes off.

‘’No, you can go first. I think you’ve earned it more than me.’’ you smiled at him. He thanks you and then disappears into the bathroom. You look around the room. There’s one double bed and one single bed. You sit on the latter and let out a sigh.

What a day its been. You think about what you both had to get through to get out of there when you hear painful groaning behind the bathroom door. You gently approach the door and knock on it. ‘’Leon, you okay?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ he groans again but tries to cover it. You try the handle and notice it’s not locked so you open it fully. Leon is shirtless in front of the mirror, trying to see his back. You watch his muscles flex as he breathes. There’s a nasty wound on the center of his shoulder blades.

‘’Let me clean that for you, it looks pretty gnarly.’’ you take some antiseptic spray and some cotton swabs from the first aid kit Leon had already pulled out.

‘’I can do th-,’’ he starts to protest, but you stop him.

‘’You can’t even reach it.’’ he sighs in defeat. ‘’and I want to help Leon,’’ you spray the wound and he winces. ‘’sorry if it stings, but it needs to be cleaned properly.’’ you say apologetically as you pat the sore spot with the swab. Once the wound is clean, you throw away the used swabs.

‘’Thank you,’’ Leon spoke quietly, like he was defeated. You caress his back near the wound softly. He sudders and you take your hand away.

‘’At least it’s not bleeding anymore. But probably better if you take a shower, before I put a bandaid on there.’’ He nods and turns to the shower, but doesn’t turn it on. ‘’Leon?’’ you ask again, being a little concerned. He says he’s fine but you can sense that some things are really bothering him. You close the door as you leave, giving him privacy.

--

After a while you still don’t hear water running and you get more worried. You knock on the door again, but there’s no answer. You try the handle again and open the door to find him sitting on the floor. You rush to his side, kneeling as you take his hand in yours. He breaks his stare to the void and looks at you.

‘’Do you need help?’’ you ask sympathetically. He takes support from the tub and lets go of you.

‘’No, I’m fine, just a bit exhausted from today,’’ he rubbed his neck, ‘’I’ll be quick now so you can shower too.’’ You didn’t listen to him and decided you should help. You went to plug the tub and open the tab to let it fill. He stood there watching you. You smiled as you went to close the door and then stopping before him.

‘’You need to take your pants off.’’ you told him. He snapped awake, looking down. As you waited the tub to fill, you collected the first aid equipment together that had been spread on the couter. When the tub was full enough so you closed the tab, squeezing some soap in there from one of the bottles on the shelf. You turned around and saw Leon sitting on the toilet seat. You kneeled again to help, taking a hold of his pant legs and pulling them away.

‘’You really don’t need to do that,’’ Leon’s voice broke out like he was embarrased. You smiled softly.

‘’It doesn’t make you any less of a man if you ask for help,’’ you folded his pants next to the toilet. ‘’or if you take the help you’re offered.’’ He huffed a little, like not believing what you said. You’ve sensed that Leon was the kind of man who had to do everything alone, like no one could or should help him. That he needs to survive everything on his own. Which is so not true. Everyone needs help sometimes and it’s okay. You told him to get to the tub as you turned away so he could strip all the way.

‘’Ohhh, didn’t realize I was this sore.’’ he hissed as he lowered his aching body into the water. You hummed agreeing as you took a loofa amongst the shower bottles and dipped it into the tub. You raised the wet loofa above his head and squeezed. Leon tensed and moved away slightly, looking back at you.

‘’It’s okay Leon, try to relax.’’ you softly spoke as you wetted the loofa again, raising it to him. He leaned back to the edge of the tub, back facing you, closing his eyes. He decided to trust you, which made you smile. You squeeze the water on his head again, before taking some shampoo in your hands.

The loofa now floating on the water surface. You gently put your hands on his wet hair, rubbing slowly. You hear him sigh contently. You massaged his scalp in circles, trying to relief any tension. His eyes are closed still, just basking in the feeling. ‘’I’m going to rinse now, if that’s okay?’’ you half whisper ask. He hums and nods.

After rinsing, you grab the loofa again and bring it to his shoulders, rubbing them. Your other hand resting on his other shoulder. Leon keeps humming softly and you ask, ‘’does this feel good?’’

‘’Yeah it feels nice,’’ he pauses a bit but continues, ‘’nice that someone is touching my body for some other purpose than trying to kill me.’’ he confesses. This makes you smile as you rub circles on his arms and back. You’re thinking of ways you could be touching his body, so you forget to actually answer him. ‘’oh I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it like that,’’

You bring the loofa to his chest, rubbing it across his pecs. This made him look at you as his face fell backwards. His face was so close to yours, you could’ve easily kissed him. You wanted to, but held yourself back as you continued to wash his body.

‘’It’s okay Leon, I’m glad you like it.’’ was all you said instead. For a moment, he seemed to let go and truly enjoy this. His breathing got little heavier, making you test the limits. Your hand traced his abs, going down as your other took a hold of his hair. You were about to lower your lips to his neck, but he yanked himself away from you before you could do that. You were taken aback, feeling bad he’d move so suddenly and quickly off of your embrace.

‘’I can take it from here thank you.’’ he cleared his throat, taking the loofa from your fingers. You didn’t wanna upset him so you stood up and just went to the other room, closing the door behind you. Sitting on the bed you tried to think about what was wrong with Leon. Why’d he change so suddenly.

In the bathroom Leon was blushing from your touch. He hadn’t felt a womans touch in a long time and yours was extremely gentle. Which made him feel all types of ways, but he shouldn’t feel any type of way. The way your hand softly grazed the flesh of his abs, sent the blood rushing to his member.

He could feel it harden as your touch got lower and as your other hand grabbed his hair. He was a goner. He had to put an end to this, before it really began. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable just cos he hadn’t gotten laid in a while.

As you closed the door, he tried to ignore his aching dick, but his thoughts were making it very difficult. He stood up, pulling the plug with him. He’d be done soon anyway. The slightly cooler air above the water hit his cock, making it twitch a bit. Leon turned on the shower as soon as all the water was drained.

His hands brought the loofa under the waterfall, rinsing it, then tracing it across his body a few times. As it touched his dick, it made him bite his lip so you wouldn’t hear anything. He wrapped the loofa around the shaft, jerking it up and down. Fuck this felt good. Just few more movements from his hand at the thought of you, makes his cum ooze on the loofa. He evens his breathing before rinsing himself once more and shutting everything off.

You stand up as Leon emerges from the steamy bathroom. The water droplets on his chest make you tingle in places. He walks to the double bed, sitting his back towards you and mumbles that the shower is free. You make your way to the shower and close the door. You don’t take too much time. You wanna figure out if something is bothering Leon. You decide to use the same loofa that you used cleaning his body. Maybe not the cleanest option but you didn’t care. And little did you know what he did with it.

After you were done, you wrapped yourself in a towel and opened the door only to find Leon still sitting on the bed at the exact same spot. You remembered to take some bandaids from the first aid kit, before you sway closer to Leon.

‘’Hey,’’ you started and he flinched, ‘’we should cover the wound now,’’ you continued in a whisper.

‘’Oh, yeah, sure.’’ his voice unsure. You rise to the bed, kneeling behind him as you figure out how to cover it. As soon as you place it, you let your fingers trace the glue surface against his skin a bit longer than needed. He doesn’t pull away. Your fingers trace his other back muscles caringly. He lets out a sigh that’s almost like a moan. You lean a bit closer to him, letting your towel hit his back.

Your eyes wander around his body and see that his eyes are closed again and his towel is bulging. And then it clicks. He got a boner when you touched him before. This made you smirk and let go of any doubt. You knew he wanted this too. Your hands slid down his chest to his abs as you took the same position as before. Lacing your fingers through his hair and pulling his head back, made him groan.

‘’Can I help?’’ your voice sultry as your fingers fidgeted with the hem of his towel. Leon nodded quickly, deciding to give in while biting his lip. His chest heaved with anticipation as his hands took a hold of the mattress edge. You let his towel open up and fall to the sides. His cock stood proudly between his thick thighs. He’s quite big, you thought as you admired his length.

‘’I probably won’t last long,’’ he admitted quietly as he turned his head away. You took this opprtunity to place a kiss on his neck. He hissed at the contact, squeezing harder on the mattress.

‘’It’s okay, let me just make you feel good.’’ You let go of him and went to lean against the headboard, patting the place between your legs. Leon’s eyes lit up when he looks your way, seeing you let the towel pool around your hips. He places himself half sideways between your inviting thighs. Your smile makes his heart race faster in his chest.

You tip toe your fingers closer to his member, teasing him a bit before taking him into your palm. Leon inhales sharply, sneaking his hand behind your body to squeeze your opposite hip. You moan at his rough touch which makes him moan too. You jerk just the tip in your hand first, making him squirm.

Oh this man is way overdue.

Then you take your time to stroke his whole length slowly. His chest rises and falls quickly, trying to contain himself. Your hand picks up speed gradually, milking groan after groan from his luscious lips. ‘’does that feel good, Leon?’’ you breath against his ear.

‘’Yes, so good,’’ he whines as his hand squeezes your hip again. You quicken your pace on his tip, precum slickening the whole process, making it easier. The squelching sound made your pussy leak too. ‘’I’m close,’’ he mumbled into the air.

‘’I want you to cum for me Leon,’’ you tell him and with that he shoots rope after rope of cum on his stomach and your hand. His head falls back and he groans, trashing his hips upwards.

‘’Fuuuck it feels too good, please,’’ he moaned as you kept pumping his cum from his cock. ‘’it’s too sensitive, please stop.’’ You let go of his cock, chuckling a little but it turned into a yelp as he just turned around, lifting you to your knees and crashing his lips to your own.

You moaned into the kiss as you felt his body against yours, his cum sticking you together. His hands flew to your neck bending your head to his liking, plunging his hot tongue into your mouth. You gave him access instantly, smiling into the kiss as you felt his dick poking your thigh. As he pulled away, his strong hands lifted you up against the wall,

‘’Leoon!’’ you yelled as he put your other leg on his shoulder and then placing his hands on your butt, keeping you upright.

‘’My turn,’’ he breathes against your thigh as he peppers kisses on it, getting closer to your heat. Then his lips are suddenly on it. Just kissing the lips. It made you blush at how sweet he was. Soon enough his tongue comes out to play and he licks up your slit, making you gasp. ‘’you’re soaking wet baby,’’ he says before devouring your wetness.

‘’Ungh, Leo-onn,’’ you gasped as his tongue hit the right spot inside, making you grind your hips against his face. His nose hit your clit, letting more sweet sounds fall from your open lips. Leons rough palms grope your ass as he tries to keep you from falling over. This position could have been chosen better but you looked so hot like this so he didn’t mind. He moved his tongue in and out of you before he started to suck your clit, making you tense in his hands.

‘’Mmm, you taste so good baby,’’ he mumbled into you, fueling your feelings. Your body started to shake as you clenched around nothing.

‘’Fuck, Leon don’t stop, your tongue feels so good, please.’’ you begged. You didn’t know what, cos you knew he would make you cum. He wasn’t the kind of man to leave you hanging. Few tongue thrusts and clit sucks later you were screaming his name louder than before as he had you cumming hard. He let you enjoy the aftermath a little, before he lowered you onto his lap. His tip grazing your sensitive nub, making you whimper as you tried to grind against him.

Leon cupped your face and pulled you into a soft kiss. Slowly making out with you and letting your breathing calm down. You pulled away, smiling at him as you still grinded against his dick. He leaned back on the bed, on his hands, letting you have the lead. You took his cock in your hand again, stroking it a bit before lining him at your folds.

‘’Fuck baby,’’ he bit his lip, groaning as soon as his tip was inside you. You sink all the way down and start to sway your hips back and forth rapidly. Whining as his cock hits your cervix. ‘’your pussy feels amazing,’’ He lets you do the work for now and get what you want. He loved the way your boobs bounced as his eyes bounced along with them.

A groan escapes his throat as he leans forward to take your other nipple into his mouth. His hands sneaks behind you as well, hugging you against him. Your hips start to lose their momentum, trying to keep up with your need, but failing.

‘’Leon, I-I can’t anymore,’’ you say out of breath, stopping your hips. Leon’s hands grab your hips, helping you move on him. He lets go of your nipple and flips you two around as he lowers himself to kiss you. The kiss is sweet and gentle.

‘’I got you,’’ he mumbles to your lips and eases himself into your warm folds again. After a few test thrusts, he hoists your ass off the bed and pistons into you with full speed. You scream at the force, throwing your hands on his, clawing him. He’s pulling you towards him like crazy, moaning and groaning loudly as well. ‘’shit, you’re taking me so well baby.’’ You love that he's vocal.

‘’Leon, I’m cumm-INGG!!‘’ you screamed the last half as your orgasm took over you. Your body squirmed at his embrace, convulsing from the intense pleasure again. You tried to back up from his thrusts, but he kept you locked in with him. You let him chase his own high. After a few seconds he let your hips fall to the bed and slowed his rhythm a little. He leaned to your neck, kissing it sloppily as his thrusts were becoming irregular.

‘’Where to you want me to cum? I’m getting so close,’’ he nibbled your neck. You touched his sides,

‘’Wherever you want, I just want your cum, please,’’ you begged. Again. You didn’t know what. With those words he pulled out and started to jerk his dick over your stomach. White ropes shot out of his tip as he rode out his high, groaning. He huffed above you before he collapsed on the bed,

‘’You can’t say things like that,’’

‘’Is that not where you wanted to cum?’’ you teased him. He laid his head to the side to look at your face,

‘’No, I would’ve -,’’ he didn’t know if he should finish the sentence or not, ‘’I would’ve wanted to cum inside that pretty pussy of yours.’’ but did it anyway. He didn’t have anything to lose. What was the worst thing you could do? Leave? You were supposed to anyway. You blushed, but rolled on your side facing him and tracing his abs with your fingers.

‘’Maybe next time you should?’’ it was more of a question than anything else.

‘’Next time?’’ Leon almost choked on his saliva, not expecting you to offer a next time. You closed the gap between you two and placed a kiss on his lips.

‘’Yeah,’’ you stated as a matter of factly, ‘’but you know what?’’

‘’What?’’

‘’We need to take another shower cos you made us sticky,’’ you chuckled as you took his cum on your fingers and let it fall to your abdomen again. He rolled on top of you, rubbing his body on yours, getting you two even more sticky,

‘’Oh it’s my fault? I remember you being very much involved too,’’ he placed some loose strands of your hair behind your ear, then kissed your nose. ‘’I’ll go run the bath and then come get you,’’ He hopped off the bed, skipping to the bathroom again.

The water started running and you smiled as he became visible to you again with a huge smile on his face. He scooped you up in his arms and started to carry you to the tub.

After all, a little help from someone goes a long way.

If you made it here, thank you for reading this! My smol Leon infested heart is very happy💜 Please like, comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed what your eyes gobbled up. 👀

[charliemwrites]

Part 7 is finally here! I only gave this a quick look over so if there are any glaring issues (like a random cut off sentence) please let me know! I was just so excited to get this one out.

Content: Brandon.

For all the power and influence it has amassed, SpecGru is a notoriously discreet and secretive operation. Mind, no one’s ever strolling down the street shouting their criminal affiliations for God and everyone to hear, but even by criminal standards, SpecGru is like a collective boogeyman. By the time most anyone knows they’re there, it’s already too late – and the rare (verbal) survivors only ever see masks and guns.

Granted, no small part of SpecGru’s prestige comes from whispered stories and unconfirmed rumors. Criminals are locker room gossips, the lot of them. Not that it’s completely unfounded. An execution is an execution, whether someone died with all their teeth and nails or not. (Usually not)

Few people know Price as more than a shadowy theoretical. (Someone must be in charge, that’s how the mafia works.) Even fewer know his face, never mind his name. It’s just good business that way.

In fact, SpecGru’s entire inner circle is shrouded in mystery. There’s not just the gray silhouette of the Don looming over their enemies’ heads. There are the lieutenants to contend with as well, acting on his direct authority, speaking on his behalf (with permission, of course) in his absence.

And then there’s Price’s right hand, the de facto boss should something happen. His heir, for all intents and purposes.

For those that have met Price in person, and by extension his few but devoted confidants, there’s always debate.

Is it Soap, loud and brash, but sharp as a whip? A decisive man, affable with a hidden mean streak?

Or is it Ghost, the quiet and calculating figure always at his side? A deadly and brutal enemy, shrewd and observant?

Kyle lets them stew in their assumptions and reminds himself that they’ll learn eventually – or they’ll be dead. He’s not fussed either way. It would suit SpecGru just fine if a few of those knobs keeled over sooner rather than later.

If only they knew that the hand that would one day grip their leashes was currently holding your purse so that you could pet a cute dog.

Not that Kyle minds; you have good taste. In purses, that is – though the dog isn’t half bad. A fluffy white and grey thing with a stumpy tail, practically crawling onto your pretty blue skirt as you coo and fawn. He started recording the minute you handed him your bag. (Price owes him for this.)

“His name is Mister Beans,” the uni girl enthuses to you.

You practically sob. “Mister Beans!”

He’s loath to hurry you along, but he’s supposed to meet up with Price for a Business meeting in only a half hour. Thankfully, you’re a considerate sort and don’t linger for long.

“Thank you so much, have a great day!” you cheer to the young woman. Then you turn back to Kyle, smiling huge. “Wasn’t he so cute?”

He chuckles. “It was. Wish I could have pet him, but white hair on this suit…”

You hum sympathetically. “I have a lint roller in my apartment.”

“I’ll scratch the next one,” he promises, offering your purse back.

You take it with your far hand and another mumbled “thank you,” then loop your closer arm through his. Don’t even seem to think about it, just accept the escort automatically. Kyle tries not to beam with pride. He used to have to prompt you, holding his elbow out at an awkward angle for you to get the hint. Now, you reach for the arm of whoever you’re with on instinct – as you should. (Another thing Price owes him for.)

“Do you like little dogs?” you ask, strolling with him for your apartment.

In the office, you’re a speedy little thing. Zooming from your desk to Price’s and back at velocity deserving of a ticket. Soap calls you a busy bee and it’s apt. Fluttering to and fro with stacks of papers or your tablet (“Reginald” you call it) everyone knows to make way at the click-click of your smart heels.

Outside, though, your purposeful stride slows to something less awe-inspiringly machinelike. Little Miss at work is a much different creature from Little Miss off the clock – but Kyle quite likes both.

“My mum had a little white dog while I was growing up. Crusty old thing,” he explains. “Prefer medium sized myself. Like a corgi.”

You giggle. “Like the royal family?”

“Oi, I liked ‘em before that.”

You just laugh harder at his defensive tone, patting his arm. He’s always impressed by how fearlessly you joke and tease him and the others. Have taken everything in stride from the beginning, didn’t even flinch when you first met Simon. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think you had no idea just who you arched your eyebrows at this morning because of a “scheduling disagreement.”

“Speaking of dogs…” you mutter, mirth disappearing.

He follows your gaze through the clear glass of the building’s entry vestibule. Your ex is standing inside, already spotted you and fluffing up like the cock he is.

“Mind keeping back, doll?” Kyle murmurs.

You make a noise of protest even as you hand him your keys. “He’s not going to do anything after what Soap did.”

There’s an ugly black cast around his hand and up his wrist. Kyle smirks at him through the door.

“Rather not take any chances,” he replies.

You huff a bit, but quietly slip your arm from his, letting him take the lead into the building. (He still holds the door for you of course – he’s not a numpty.)

“Get the fuck out, mate,” Kyle says as soon as the door opens.

Brandon looks downright taken aback. “And who the fuck are you?”

“None of your business,” you interrupt, stepping up beside Kyle.

“The hell it’s not!” Brandon replies, taking an angry (stupid) step forward. Kyle mirrors him, making a point of loosening up his shoulders. In a surprising display of good sense, Brandon stops there. “Look, bunny, a high-value man needs a high-value woman.”

Your voice comes out flat and unimpressed. “And that’s you, is it? A high-value man?

Brandon rolls his eyes but sighs, as if he’s trying to be patient with you. Kyle’s fingers twitch. His piece is burning a hole against his back.

“Obviously. I have a degree, a six-figure salary, and two properties – all under forty. I’m objectively attractive, work out regularly, don’t smoke. I’m a good catch, don’t kid yourself that you can do better.”

At Kyle’s elbow, you go very still. The type of still that precedes blood and screaming. He’s seen it in Ghost before.

“Then why are you here?” you ask, tongue dripping acid. “Since you’re such a catch.”

Brandon sighs and shakes his head, trying for fond exasperation and only achieving constipated.

“I’m not willing to just throw away two years. I’ve invested a lot in this relationship, and we can still make it work.” It actually starts to make Kyle nauseous, the way he talks about you like a business decision. “I mean, you have some things to make up for but eventually, we can go back to the way we were.”

“And what,” you say through gritted teeth, consonants sharp enough to pierce skin, “do I have to make up for?”

Kyle listens, flabbers absolutely gasted, as Brandon answers.

“You ran off to play desk bunny for a man I don’t know. God only knows what ‘favor’ you did to land that job. You’ve lowered your value as a marriable woman but there are ways to make it up to me—”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Kyle’s ears ring like the first time he heard his mum curse.

Brandon looks taken aback too. You don’t give either of them a chance to respond.

“I know it’s not fucking me. Because if you were talking to me, you’d be stupider than you look.”

Brandon’s face flushes with anger. He takes another step forward. Kyle takes two in return, shaking his head in warning. Unfortunately, Brandon doesn’t know how to read his face any better than yours.

“C’mon, mate, it’s common sense. A lock that opens for any key and all that.”

Kyle’s heard it before. “Women ain’t locks, mate.”

“If you don’t get out of this building right fucking now, I will ruin your life,” you snarl.

Brandon does a double take. “Is that a threat? You can’t—"

“You bet your pasty ass it is,” you reply without missing a beat. You raise your voice every time he tries to interrupt, barreling through his weak protest like a train. “Fifteen fucking minutes. That’s all it would take to destroy you, your stupid sister, your bitchy mother, your pervert father, and that fucking slag you got pregnant twice.”

Kyle’s eyebrows rise with each word until he’s fairly certain they’ve floated up to the ceiling somewhere.

Brandon, though… Brandon’s face is ashen.

“How… how did you…?”

“Get. The fuck. Out.”

Kyle doesn’t give him the option to refuse. He scruffs Brandon by the back of his bland suit and shoves him out the first door of the vestibule. It closes and locks just as he turns around, a rebuttal finally juddering to his bloodless lips. You haven’t even turned to watch him go.

Kyle approaches you feeling a bit like he does coming to Price with shit news when he’s already pissed.

He almost says, you sure know how to pick ‘em – but thinks better of it. There’s practically frost forming beneath your feet, the air around you is icy.

“Walk you up, little miss?” he asks, offering his arm.

You gently take his arm and exhale heavily. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

You invite him in at your door. Your hands are shaking a bit. He politely accepts, shooting Price the others a text that he’ll be a bit late. He’s not about to leave you in a state.

As usual, you step out of your shoes at the door, leaving you in your shimmery stockings, then pad to the kitchen.

“Tea?” you ask as he follows.

“I haven’t the time, doll, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re alright before heading out.”

You turn, expression softening. Just like that, you’re back to your usual self, sweet as honey.

“I’ll be alright, I think,” you reply, sighing. “That was a long time coming.”

He leans his shoulder in the doorway, unable to help chuckling at the memory of your ex’s gobsmacked expression. The corners of your mouth curl up in shy amusement.

“Seemed like it,” he replies. “We should weaponize those f-bombs you dropped.”

That coaxes a giggle out. “Graves would be first on my list.”

“The boss’s too.” And oh, Kyle can’t wait to tell Price about this. (As if he needed another reason to hate Brandon and adore you.)

“Christ,” you groan, “you’re going to tell him about this, aren’t you?”

He’s at least able to muster an apologetic grimace. “You know I have to, sweets.”

“Suppose I’ll get the really good tea tomorrow,” you muse.

“He liked those pistachio scones from the corner café, too.”

You light up. It just so happens that they bake your favorite muffins too. “Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em.”

You snort, but there’s a fond smile on your face. Regretfully, he notes the time on the stove clock behind you.

“You’re sure you’re alright here by yourself?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” you promise, crossing to give him a warm hug. “I lock the door and windows like Simon told me.”

“Atta girl,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Seven sharp!” you chirp.

He pauses at the door, “You call if there’s any trouble.”

You poke your head around the corner. “You don’t sign my paychecks; you can’t tell me what to do.”

He points right back at you. “That’s from the bossman direct.”

“Then he can tell me himself.”

He arches his brows. You blink.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

He chokes back a chuckle. “Sweet dreams, little miss.”

“Get home safe, Kyle!”

As far as business meetings go, one with Los Vaqueros is almost pleasant. Sure, they always try to overprice their products, but haggling them down is practically a game between Price and Vargas by now. The shipping agreement between them and SpecGru is long established by now, a major link in the international arms market.

“Negotiations” are relaxed enough that Rudy and Valeria are playing cards with Ghost and Soap at the sitting table, whiskey glasses at their elbows. The plan for the next six months is all but set when Price suddenly jerks. In an instant, his face goes dark, shoulders tense.

“Something wrong, hermano?” Vargas asks.

“I’m getting a call.”

Soap and Ghost snap to attention.

There are only a handful of people that can reach Price during a meeting. All but one is in this room.

As he brings the phone to his ear, Kyle sees your name on the screen.

“Yes, love?” he answers.

Even from a couple feet away, Kyle can hear your voice through the receiver – high and panicked. Kyle’s already reaching for his keys.

“He fucking what?” Price barks.

Soap and Ghost jump to their feet, cards and drinks forgotten.

“Barricade the door, get a knife. We’ll be right there.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIFTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, hallucainations/hearing voices??, inaccurate depictions of medicine, idk how ppl made medicines in 1800s but idc its fiction masterlist a/n: thank u for the love from the hurricane i went thru!! i'm okay and back in business, i love u guys <3 things are gonna get a lil spicyyy

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“Dove,” a voice singsonged, a whisper in the wind that whisked away almost as soon as it appeared.

You halted in your steps, whipping your head around. Standing on the deck, you knew you were alone. You had just been on your way to collect your variety of herbs and powders to teach the Captain of medicine making, yet the sense of dread overtook you the moment you heard your name called out.

Looking out into the vast sea, there was nothing. A heavy mist clouded the air from the storm that was brewing mere lengths away, its arrival unknown. It clouded over the horizon, hiding away what lay beyond in the dull, gray atmosphere.

Yet, Graves had spoken yet again, as if he had sent his voice to travel miles upon miles just to get a rile out of you. It felt like a warning, letting you know he was still present, and very much still attached.

“The one who heals the ill and poor,” Graves echoed tauntingly, a dark chuckle rasping at the end of his words. “The one who has the 141 in knots. That’s you, isn’t it, dove?”

You couldn’t see him, and you weren’t sure whether that was ideal or not. You knew he wasn’t there physically, hell, you weren’t sure it was even really him talking. Your mind could be playing tricks on you.

The words of the prophecy were spoken with such mockery, the ones referring to your very role. The venom in his tone made you queasy. A cold chill dripped down your spine, causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“Oh, this will be fun,” he cooed. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Stood frozen in place, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horizon. It was gloomy, and you were beginning to mirror that feeling. You felt toyed with — like a puppet on a shelf, waiting to be used when Graves deemed you useful.

“What are ye doin’ down there, dove?” a voice called. “Looks like ye seen a ghost.”

The faint snickering had you tilting your head up in the direction it came from. Soap sat high up in the crow’s nest, peering down at you mischievously. His broad arms rested on the rim of the nest, leaning lazily.

“I am fine,” you scowled, quickly regaining your composure. Graves crept menacingly in the corners of your mind. “What are you doing up there?”

“She’s a crow’s nest for a reason. I’m watchin’ for the storm, seein’ if I can spot anythin’ out of the ordinary like I’m a bird, birdie” Soap explained with a grin, cocking his head. “What are ye doin’ down there?”

You frowned at him, unamused. “I plan on teaching the Captain how to make medicine,” you replied. “I’m just going to collect my things. It is wealthy to have knowledge in medicines, you know.”

Soap blew out a puff of air, waving his hand dismissively. “If I have any more knowledge up in this noggin’ of mine, it might explode.” He made a point of knocking his knuckles against his head.

“I do not believe there is much in there at all,” you sighed, unable to force a small smile away. Even in times of fear and uncertainty, you couldn’t deny the way Soap put you at ease.

“Ach, yer a bird that bites. What happened to bein’ a sweet bird?” he mumbled in feigned hurt, lips puckered into a pouted frown.

Your smile grew and you shook your head. “Where is Ghost?” you asked. Soap rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twirling into his messy mullet.

“That lad. Locked himself up again, he did. I think the weather’s makin’ him all moody. He helped me out for a bit before goin’ back, so I’m not sure what’s wrong,” he explained sympathetically. There was a hint of hurt at being shut out.

It made you recall the two of them. Embracing. Whispering amongst each other. Ghost, unmasked, leaning into his touch.

You tried your hardest to not let it shift your expression, even if it dug a little hole somewhere in your heart to be reminded of what you didn’t have.

“I see,” you hummed, playing off your tormenting thoughts and shoving them to the side with the rest. “I am… happy that he has someone like you.”

Soap’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He stared at you, confused, before smiling softly. “Ah, c’mon, dove. Ye got us, too.”

Not in the way your heart longed for. But that was a thought that attempted to fiddle with your mind and leave you stranded on an island of foreign feelings far, far away.

You weren’t sure what you desired, anyway.

“Right,” you agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll be going now. Please, do not fall while I’m gone — or do. I have not been able to aid anybody in quite a long time.”

Soap laughed, the sound rumbling you to the core. “Mean li’l bird,” he teased.

With a smile, you continued on to your quarters, shoving any strange ideas behind and focusing on the task at hand. Price was still waiting for you, after all.

Entering your shared space, you nearly cursed the world for putting Gaz in there. While you hadn’t quite avoided him like you wanted to, that was due to the others being around. Now, here alone, was different.

“Hello, Gaz,” you greeted stiffly, giving him a nod. You quickly retreated to your side of the room, which really was Soap’s clutter. You needed to organize it soon or you may lose your mind.

“Dove,” Gaz hummed from where he laid in bed, arms resting behind his head in a lazy position. His eyes followed you like a hawk as you rummaged through the bag taken from your village on your first night with the pirates.

The resources you’d been forced to bring so long ago were now going to be of use, which was something you wished to be excited for—yet, the elephant in the room was a downpour on your mood.

You felt ridiculous. It was not as if you were avoiding him in rejection—it was that it was not rejection that you were avoiding him.

Your heartstrings seemed to tighten and pull whenever he was near, and it made you feel crazy. It felt like you couldn’t catch a break, constantly toying with your own feelings.

What was this feeling of longing you so hopelessly seemed to feel differently with each of them? Was it still the craving for a sense of belonging?

“Is someone hurt?”

You glanced up from your bag, fingers pausing. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before realization took over and you shook your head. “No. I am teaching Price the ways of medicine.”

So much for avoiding him.

“Is that so?” he asked. You weren’t sure why his tone seemed so… off. As if there were a taste of bitterness to it.

You recalled the night you threw your food at him from the stuffiness of your cell below deck when he had done nothing but try and quench your hunger. He truly was not a fan of you, nor you him. While you were scared, he was protective of his kin.

Now, his tone was a grave reminder of how much time had passed, and how different things were.

You gave him another stiff nod, watching as he stood from the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest, banging against your rib cage with every step he took closer.

When he finally stopped, he was mere inches away, standing tall and proud over you. You focused your gaze on his chest, mapping the loosely tied strings that hung from the middle of his billowy shirt. You were overcome with spikes of awkward anxiety and unable to connect eyes with him.

Seeing this, he tilted his head down, cocked to the side in a mocking way. He forced your gaze to meet his from leaning down alone, and you held your breath at the sight of slight annoyance burrowed somewhere in his expression.

“Are you avoidin’ me?” he asked lowly.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grew clammy, and you couldn’t take them out of your bag to wipe them on your dress or else he’d know.

“No,” you stammered, frowning. “I am just— Price is waiting for me.”

Was he angry that you did not reciprocate a kiss? It was not your fault—you had never shared one.

“There is no playful banter. Nor even a gaze in the eye,” he commented.

“I am looking at you right now,” you defended weakly.

“What you’re doin’ is actin’ different,” he said slyly, mirroring your frown. “What, you hand me a gift, a beautiful one, and now that I have read the signs wrong, you wish to hide from me?”

“That—” You inhaled sharply. “That is not what is happening.”

“So, I have read them right, then.”

“I do not know what signs you are referring to.”

“Don’t be daft, dove.”

Your fingers tightened around a small jar in your bag, knuckles going white. You wanted to avoid the forced eye contact altogether, but now you could not look away. It was as if you were in a trance.

“It is improper to refer to a woman as daft,” you hissed in defense.

“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met,” Gaz mused, his head tilting once again.

This is what he wanted, and you were giving it to him. He wanted the banter, the jests, to see you grow irritated to tug a reaction from you, and unfortunately, it was working.

“You have never been kissed before?” he continued.

Your ears were beginning to ring. Your entire body felt hot to the touch, like a scorching fire burned through your veins and trickled its way up to your brain.

“That is inappropriate, Gaz,” you tried, though your defense was weak. He was right. He was always right, and you hated it. “I must return to Price. I—I cannot have this conversation.”

“You will have to avoid the whole sea if you believe I am the only one,” he stated calmly, growing soft now that his initial annoyance was wearing off. “Do not make me the one to suffer.”

You stared at him, mouth opened to speak but the words lost in translation. You felt like you were betraying yourself by choosing to avoid him out of mere uncertainty. You were only doing a disservice to yourself.

The words he spoke laid heavy on your mind, but you were unable to decipher the true meaning. Perhaps you were avoiding that, too.

The two of you said nothing, sitting in tense silence as you hurried to throw your bag over your shoulder. You didn’t want Price to slam open his door and search for you, believing you accidentally fell into the treacherous waters and sunk below the angry sea.

You shuffled to the door, hand hovering over the handle. You risked a weary glance over your shoulder, seeing Gaz standing and watching you with keen eyes, a glint of something unrecognizable in them.

You had nobody else to feel sorry for but yourself.

“I will not avoid you,” you muttered quietly. “I do not think I have the strength to do so, anyway. Not with you.”

You tugged open the door, excusing yourself.

The chill in the air was refreshing against your warm skin, cooling off the heat that radiated off of you like a furnace. As you returned to Price’s quarters, your mind was scrambled, overloaded with millions of thoughts that plagued you.

The wind rustled and blew, and you could only pray there wasn’t a familiar whisper hiding in its trail. It seemed as if the universe had plenty of tricks up its sleeve today, and it was dealing them all to you one by one.

When you looked up at the crow’s nest as you walked by, Soap remained. He gave you a smile when you passed, and it made the worry in your stomach simmer to a low boil.

“You took quite some time,” Price noted as you stepped inside. “Did you walk the plank along your way?”

You chuckled, shaking your head and shooing the bag off your shoulder. It fell to the desk with a small thud. “I ran into Soap,” you explained.

“I see.” Price smiled in acknowledgment. “Alright, dove. Let’s begin, hm?”

“You are not very good at this.”

You watched as Price attempted to grind a mix of herbs and powder in the bowl you lent him. Teaching him how to make a paste meant for burns proved fruitless, as he seemed to mess up the measurements when you weren’t looking.

“That’s why you’re the expert, dove,” he huffed in annoyance, laser focused on grinding the end of the wooden stick into the roundness of the bowl, mashing down the mixture. “I do not see how this will become a paste.”

“Did you mix in the drops of water like I told you?” you asked.

He glowered at the clear dropper you held up, which seemed just as full as when you first started. He snatched it up, squeezing a couple of drops into the failed paste for good measure, then continued mixing.

“Was I correct?” you teased, peering down into the bowl. You were pleased to see it mixing much more smoothly, almost like thick butter.

“Silence,” he grunted, shooting a weak glare your way. “I pray this medicine proves to be useful.”

“It is for burns to ease the flare up of the skin,” you explained, keeping an eye on the mixture. “I am sure it will come in handy.”

Price hummed, mashing the paste until he seemed satisfied. He shifted the bowl towards you, waiting for approval. The idea of it made you snort—a Captain, seeking approval from his ex-prisoner.

“It is not bad,” you praised, earning him a furrow of his eyebrows. “Much better after the water.”

He gave you a look, unamused, eyeing you as you shoveled the paste into an empty jar. You were happy to add it to the collection, though you wished you had the opportunity for a room for yourself to display them. Soap and Gaz’s room was feeling crowded.

“I am only teasing,” you said with a smile. “It’s almost as good as mine.”

Price snorted, smiling back. “Aye, I’m a Captain, not a medic. That’s your specialty,” he retorted.

“And will this medic ever get a room of her own? Or perhaps a place to work?”

He raised an eyebrow. You mirrored him. “Are the boys not fun to room with?”

Images of Gaz earlier flashed in your mind. You swallowed. “No, they are just fine. But I am a woman, after all. It is not… suitable.”

Price made a noise of acknowledgment, nodding slow. He seemed to be thinking, a hand brushing through his beard and stroking his bottom lip.

“That is… understandable. Forgive me, I have not had a woman on my ship until you. It slipped my mind that you roomin’ with those two may not be entirely appropriate,” he replied thoughtfully.

“You forced me to sleep with you on my first night out of the brig,” you reminded him.

Price paused his stroking, blinking at you. For a moment, you lost him, his mind running astray. You could only stare back patiently.

“Would you prefer to stay here, then?” he asked. “You may find much more peace in here than with them., or if you'd like, you may switch off between quarters.”

You felt your body tense up at the mere thought. You knew no matter who you stayed with, it would be a gamble. Each of them had your heart on lock in an unfamiliar way, and the thought of staying with Price again had your stomach twisting into knots.

Gaz popped up once again, and you wondered if that decision would solidify your act in avoiding him. A pang of guilt hit your chest.

“You would not mind?” you asked wearily.

Price shrugged. “I may prefer it, actually.”

Your expression morphed into confusion, eyebrows pulling together and lips curling into a frown. He’d prefer to spend nights with you, rather than allowing you to cram into a small bed with Soap in the late hours of the night?

You thought the Captain valued his privacy and solitude. Now that he was offering you to stay on his own rather than out of fear of you running off to islands unknown, it felt much more personal.

“You’d prefer it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Why?”

The Captain paused, narrowing his eyes at you. You were curious at to what he could be thinking about.

The door to his quarters opened, silencing your conversation rather quickly. The wind sounded much louder now without barriers between the inside and outside, and when you whipped your head to look at the doorway, Soap stood, drenched in water.

You were so focused on your time with Price and your craft, you hadn’t noticed the uneasy rockiness of the ship that seemed to grow with every second.

“The storm’s brewin’ real fast, Cap,” Soap breathed, lightly heaving. He must’ve climbed down the nest in a haste. “We need to get her steady. It’s comin’ down faster than we thought.”

The Captain stood quickly, giving him a nod. “Go collect Gaz and Ghost,” he ordered. Soap agreed, tossing the door closed and leaving you alone. “Dove, you’re stayin’ here.”

“I must be of help—”

“Here,” he repeated, tapping his finger on the desk. “That’s an order.”

You wanted to protest, but the look on his face was gloomy. You watched him leave his quarters and enter the battlefield of heavy rain that spilled over on to the deck.

Something in your heart tugged, but this time, not out of longing, or envy—it was worry. Sure, you faced many storms in your village, but never on a ship where one wrong move could send you right below the waves and have you never come back up again.

You felt helpless as you sat, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in your lap as you hoped and pray the ship would become steady enough for them to return to safety.

“Dove.”

The crashing sound of cracking thunder had you jolting in your seat. You did as the Captain ordered and stayed put, but you were becoming restless. The longer you stayed, the more your feeling of cold dread grew.

You knew where it was coming from. It was the very thing living inside your head, and you wondered if Ghost could hear it, too.

You couldn’t sit anymore. You got to your feet, quickly throwing open the door to a monsoon.

The ship swayed with the heavy, angry waves that crashed harshly against the sides of the ship. It made you lose balance, and you grabbed on to the doorway to steady.

Gaz and Soap stood under the rainfall, water soaking into their skin and clothes as they heaved the sails closed, holding the ropes to guaranteed they stayed.

Ghost was lifting heavy baggage that had yet to be stored away, thrown over his shoulder as he hurried to transport them to a dry part of the ship.

The Captain stood at the helm, his hair flat against his forehead and dripping water all the way down to his beard. He was mastering the steering of the ship, barking orders at Soap and Gaz while the two attempted to keep the sails at bay.

“Isn’t this fun, dove?” Graves whispered. You wished you could claw out your own eardrums.

You knew he was near. Before, you couldn’t feel his presence—now, it felt stronger than ever.

You frantically looked around, hoping to spot him somewhere out at sea, but the rain was too heavy. The sky had been darkening, giving off an ominous hue covered by storm clouds. You wouldn’t be able to see him from below.

Your eyes landed on the crow’s nest, the net of rope leading up to it swaying in the crazy wind. Soap had been up there mere hours ago, watching the storm and charting its location.

Without a moment of hesitation, you sprinted in the cold rain, heading towards your destination.

“Dove?” Soap called out in confusion, before recognizing you. “Dove! What are ye doin’?”

You began your ascent, just as Gaz had joined in calling for you. With them unable to leave the ropes of the sails behind, they couldn’t chase after you, stopping you from your foolish moment of cleverness.

“What the hell is she doin’ out?” Price growled, his firm voice quieter in the winds chasing it away.

The rope creaked as you planted your feet in the gaps, climbing your way up to the nest. The higher up you got, the more the breeze increased its abuse, whipping along your face in a serious of angry smacks.

The pirate’s voices grew farther away as you approached the crow’s nest. Their tones were ones of concern, fear, and worry as you scrambled your way on to the rugged, old wood platform, hauling yourself up.

You needed to know if your thoughts were true—if Graves truly was here, or if it was another one of his tricks.

You stood on the crow’s nest, holding yourself steady with a firm grip of the sides. You looked out into the void, scanning for anything, any sign—and there it was.

A ship, not too far off in the distance, swaying with the waves with its front nose pointed in the direction of your ship. A large sail flapped in the wind, and it was so misty you nearly couldn’t see it until a familiar white outline of a skull appeared, waving as if saying hello.

Graves was setting sail right towards the ship, and he had every intention of riding out the storm until he reached you.

[moonwqves]

⋮ 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧

───〃★ bruce wayne (batman) x reader.

★ — SUMMARY | shower sex after a night on patrol. ★ — WORD COUNT | 1.2k ★ — WARNINGS | fem!reader ; pwp ; unprotected sex ; mentions of blood/injuries

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

most nights when bruce gets back to the manor, you’re still asleep. in the early hours of the morning, just before the sky begins to lighten, he doesn’t expect you to still be awake as he sheds all his gear and trudges his way upstairs.

but some nights you wait up for him, occupying yourself with a book or a new tv series as you sit curled up in your chair in the dark.

he assumes you’re still in bed sleeping soundly and he heads quietly into the bathroom to start cleaning himself up, not noticing that you’re silently watching. he’s known for being stealthy, but tonight you’re the one who’s slipping into the shadows.

his clothes hit the floor piece by piece as he turns the water on and strips bare, the steam from the shower quickly filling the room with heat and fogging up the mirror.

the hot water stings the bloody cuts on his knuckles, and he hisses as he runs his hands beneath the shower stream, watching the blood wash down the drain. they’re just minor scrapes and it’s nothing he isn’t used to by now, but it’s always a chore to take care of himself at the end of the night.

you open the bathroom door just a crack and peek your head inside to call his name, and instantly his head whips around at the noise. droplets of water collect in his eyelashes as he stares at you, his piercing gaze locked with yours as tears of black eyeliner roll down his cheeks, the warm water melting away his dark exterior. he's tired, he's aching and bruised from this routine of difficult nights, but everything disappears the second he sees you.

you pause as he wipes his hand across his eyes, smearing the fading makeup even further before he jerks his head to beckon you to join him, and you quickly start to undress. your clothes slip off, collecting in a pile on the floor next to his as you slide back the glass door and step inside.

your heart races as his eyes silently roam over your figure, streams of water trickling down his toned chest, and you can’t help but study him in return. you reach out to trace your fingers over the old scars that litter his skin, and you note the fresh scratches and cuts he’s earned himself while out in the city tonight.

you start to pull away to grab the soap, but his hand wraps around your wrist and you freeze, looking up at him. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as he grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

he leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms sliding down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

his hand on your hip travels lower to grope your ass, and he squeezes a little harder when you let out a gasp against his lips, relishing in the responses he’s drawing from you. he starts to move and suddenly you feel the ice cold tile of the shower wall against your back, and you arch away from it instinctively, seeking the warmth of his body.

a large hand grips your thigh and hikes your leg up around his waist, securing your ankle behind the back of his thigh for balance. his pelvis presses between your legs, and you can already feel his cock hardening against your skin.

“bruce,” you whine as you try to rock your hips against him, desperate for the friction he provides.

he doesn’t reply but he lets out a soft noise under his breath, somewhere between a hum and a growl, and he attaches his lips to your neck just below your ear.

he pushes himself into you and you gasp, your heat enveloping his length as you cling to him. your legs tremble as he begins to thrust slowly, your arms wrapping around his neck even tighter. you can feel his biceps flexing around you as he holds you against the wall, supporting nearly all of your weight as he starts to build up his pace. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the shower or if it’s sweat.

even after a night of patrol and the physical toll it takes on him, bruce’s stamina far outweighs yours. it only takes minutes before he has you whimpering and clenching around him, struggling to keep up with his relentless pace.

he pulls back to adjust his hips, giving him a better angle to drive his cock into you so that his tip kisses your spot with each stroke. he can tell you’re about to cum when he feels you starting to pull away from him, all the tension in your body building up like a dam about to break as your back arches and you squirm in his grasp.

with one more pointed thrust you come undone, a constant stream of whines pouring from your lips like the shower water pouring down his back. he doesn’t let up until your body goes limp in his arms, fucking you through your orgasm while you can barely keep yourself standing up straight.

suddenly he swoops in and presses his lips to your mouth once again, his perfect pace slipping and becoming more and more erratic, and you know he’s close behind. with your leg behind him you pull him closer, giving him just enough extra leverage to bury himself inside you as deep as he can go before his release slams into him.

his grip on your hips is almost bruising as he keeps you held tightly against him, letting out low, deep groans as he spills into you. warmth floods your stomach and you exhale a shaky whimper as you start to come down from the dizzying effects of your high.

just before you feel your leg starting to cramp up he pulls back, slipping out of you but keeping his arms still firmly around you to keep you supported. he tilts his head down to study you, secretly preening at the fucked-out look on your face. he looks much worse off, his cuts and scrapes still forming scabs and the black makeup streaked across his cheeks, but he’s still more concerned about you than himself.

he gives you a moment to stand on your own, and he smirks when you immediately reach again for the soap and start to scrub at his body with a loofah.

he lets you pamper him for now, because he knows neither of you will be getting any sleep until dawn.

© moonwqves 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to join my taglist? send an ask!

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or let me know in a comment or an ask! feedback helps so much with motivation and gives me energy to continue writing :)

a/n: this is my first time posting outside of my main fandom, but it was a lot of fun to write && i am really excited to continue writing new things!! i hope you enjoy, please interact (reblog, comment, ask) if you liked it!

[justarkive]

THE JEONS | 13

13 : Hair Betrayal

summary: a collection of chaotic family drabbles. thats it.

contents: family!au, non.idol jungkook, girl!dad jk, fluff, angst, sensitive topics + smut!

• chapter contents: was rewatching the live when jk cut his hair THE TINIEST BIT and everyone noticed, and i had to write a drabble based on it. pure fluff LOL.

• taglist: @jenniebyrubies @lovingkoalaface @iamstilljk @elinaki92 @rpwprpwprpwprw @mafersame @parkinglot-nights @reallygenerouskoala @mimi1097 @aznstoner @jungshaking @pinkpunkdynamite (cmnt to be added)

masterlist, series masterlist

It starts with a trim.

Just an inch. Maybe two.

Hana doesn’t notice. She’s too busy braiding flowers into Jungkook’s hair and calling him “Princess” while he sits obediently on the carpet, letting her twist his strands into chaotic loops.

“You like Dada’s hair, right?” he asks one day, trying to be casual, even though your eyes are already narrowing at him from across the room.

“Yes!,” she says immediately, throwing her arms around his head like she’s protecting a national treasure.

He gulps. “…Right.”

So naturally, the next time he goes in for a “trim,” he asks for three inches off.

It’s still long. It still falls past his ears. It still gets tangled in the mornings.

But Hana notices.

The second he walks through the door, she freezes mid-dinosaur coloring page and gasps like he’s been mortally wounded.

“DADA,” she cries, scrambling to her feet. “HAIR?!”

“It’s still here, baby,” he says, kneeling down. “It’s just a little shorter!”

She squints at him suspiciously, circling him like a tiny shark. “It’s gone! Where it go?!”

“I just needed a little change,” he explains gently. “You still love Dada, right?”

She doesn’t answer. She just folds her arms with the drama of a soap opera star and walks away.

“Hana!” he calls, hurt. “Don’t walk out on me like this!”

You’re in the doorway, barely holding back laughter as you watch her climb onto the couch and turn her back to him, arms crossed tightly.

“She’s giving you the silent treatment,” you say, giggling.

Jungkook stares at his daughter’s tiny, furious form, completely bewildered. “She’s three. She’s not supposed to know how to do that!”

You kiss his cheek. “Maybe next time don’t betray her trust.”

He sighs dramatically, flopping down beside her. “Fine. I’ll grow it back.”

Hana side-eyes him, unimpressed.

He leans closer. “What if I let you pick the next hair color?”

A pause.

Then slowly… sloooowly, she turns to him, hope flickering in her eyes. “…Pink?”

“Hot pink,” he promises.

She climbs into his lap like nothing ever happened, curls her fingers into what’s left of his hair, and rests her head on his shoulder with a satisfied sigh.

You shake your head. Whipped. Both of them.

[uhohdad]

(18+) ♡König♡ Voiceline Inspired Drabbles

“Who else is with you?”

Jealous!König Shows Ghost Who Reader Belongs To

WARNING: ABUSIVE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

“I can hear them with you, don’t even think about lying.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your response was meant to sound nonchalant, but it comes out wavered and squeaky. Shaking fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“Who is it?” König demands, but you both know he already knows the answer.

“It’s- it’s just the guys,” You mumble into your phone, shoulders braced and lips pulled back in unease.

“Of course it is. Is Simon there?”

“Who ya talking to, bonnie?” Soap asks, and you give him a panicked push on his chest in an effort to shut him up.

“Come home, right now.”

König’s tone leaves no room for argument. Grit and threatening, it sends a chill down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck.

Your lips part to speak, stammering through your sentence.

“I- I’m not driving, I cant-”

“You have twenty minutes.”

The line cuts off, the phone shaking in your rattling hands as you pull it in front of your face, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Simon,” You utter, “You have to take me home, now, please.”

The car goes silent, the light atmosphere sucked from the car the moment your frantic words cuts through.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- nothing,” You say, eyes darting to the side, “Just-”

You cut yourself off, debating whether or not you should tell the truth, scrambling for an excuse, but your mind draws a blank.

“You have to take me home.”

“Lover boy?” Simon asks.

Your silence confirms his suspicion. You wince, knowing this is being filed in his ever-growing ‘Reasons to Hate König’ folder.

“Simon, please,” Your plead is made of only breath, fingers fidgeting beyond control.

Simon says nothing, the car suffocatingly silent. He continues driving, not so much as activating his turn-signal.

Your voice picks up vigor, the desperation palpable, “Simon- Simon, please. Take me home.”

“No.”

The car sucks in a collective breath, only the hum of the engine filling the taut, awkward air choking you all.

“Simon,” You whine, your eyes pinch shut and your hand rests on your collarbones, “Please.”

Soap raises a brow, lost, “What’s wrong?”

“Lover boy doesn’t like it when our dove has a good time,” Simon answers gruffly.

You unclip your seatbelt, sticking your head in between the two front seats.

“Simon, you have to take me home, now, please.”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Simon!”

Without thinking, your trembling hand darts out to grab the steering wheel.

“Sit back!” Simon demands, the car swerving in its lane as he bats your hand away.

The sudden harshness in his voice makes you flinch, eyes wide and your hand retracting to your chest. It is not a request between friendly co-workers after hours, it is an order from your Lieutenant.

“Now,” He says, glaring you down in the rearview mirror.

At once you shrink in on yourself, shoulders slouching and eyes fixated on your shoes as you sit back in your seat.

The burn of Soap’s stare is searing, he’s looking for an explanation, but you can’t meet his eyes, too busy swallowing the shame of Ghost’s scolding and the fear of your boyfriend’s fury. Your stomach is twisted in knots, breaths shallow and knee bouncing to expel the nervous energy.

When Simon pulls into the pub’s parking lot, you whip your phone from your pocket as you scramble to order a ride, but Simon snatches your phone from your hands and ignores your objections.

“Simon, please! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I’ll handle it,” Simon grits without looking over his shoulder.

He gives you a look piercing enough to make your knees knock together. You swallow, unable to find the strength to argue.

After a few drinks, the energy of the group has relaxed, but you’re still fidgeting, darting your eyes around and trying to keep the beer in your stomach instead of throwing it up from pure nerves.

You freeze when you see him yank open the pub’s door, hard enough he nearly rips it off the hinges. Your heart stops, your mouth parts, wide eyes locked onto him. He scans the pub for a moment before he finds you, wearing those scary, half-lidded, dangerous eyes that bore into you. From across the pub, his stare makes your stomach twist, and you have to stifle the urge to claw your way free from the booth and flee from predator eyes.

König crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head at you. An impatient finger taps his opposing bicep. Even from the other side of the noisy room, his message is clear.

‘I’m waiting.’

You swallow and look to the sticky tabletop, both your knees and your voice trembling when you speak.

“I gotta, I gotta run to the bathroom,” you mumble to no one in particular, shimmying awkwardly from the booth.

“König,” You start once in range, “I can explain, please, just let me-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when he snatches you by the wrist with a crushing grip, forcing you to stumble over your own feet as you’re dragged out of the bar and along the sidewalk.

“König, please- I tried, I swear I tried, Simon just-”

König’s other hand grabs you by the waist with enough strength that bruises are surely to bloom at his fingertips. He ignores your writhing and winces of pain when he pushes you up against the pub’s dingy alleyway, blocking you in with his massive frame. His voice is hissed, his eyes devoid of any emotion other than rage.

“I don’t ever want to hear his name again. You understand me, little one?”

You choke, sputtering and stammering out syllables that will never get flushed out into sentences as his eyes narrow at you. Your body curls in on itself as he towers menacingly over you, his size alone more than enough of a threat to keep you compliant.

You nod, shaky but quick.

“Say it,” He growls.

“I understand,” You answer, just a squeak with words warbled in.

“Good,” He says, but you can tell by his tone he’s still not appeased.

A hardened hand snatches your wrists, pinning them to brick. Another yanks at the waistband of your jeans, ignoring your objections and your squirming legs.

“König, no! Here?” You whisper frantically, head whipping around to search for watchful eyes.

“You had the opportunity to come home. And you chose not to.”

He leaves no room for argument, a boot coming up to step on the pants bunched at your mid thigh, forcing them entirely to the ground when he plants his sole back on the concrete. You obey when he nudges you to suggest you free your ankle, and he wastes no time taking his cock from his pants.

You whimper when he presses himself to your panties, nestling between your lips with a grind.

He laughs, low and sinful in your ear.

“Already fucking wet, schlampe?”

A raspy grunt leaves him as he ruts his swollen cock against your panties.

“Just a little hure, whoring herself out for every man who pays you attention.”

You shiver at the vibration of his words against your chest, the tickle of his breath on your ear.

“Guess I’ll just have to remind you who you belong to.”

With your wrists pinned to the brick above your head, his other hand snatches your jaw with a tight grip. He forces your head to the side, sinking his teeth into the sensitive, exposed flesh of your neck. You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you, and the hand on your jaw quickly covers your mouth, muffling your wails with his calloused palms as he leaves imprints of his bites on your skin.

He laughs into your slobbered skin, kissing over the tender indents in your flesh.

“Don’t worry little one,” He coos in a sickly sweet voice, “It’ll be over soon.”

Your whimper is stifled by his hand, but he gives your voice back when he reaches down to yank your soaked panties to the side.

“But you still need to learn your lesson, ja?”

He lets out a groan when the tip of his enraged cock swipes along your slick cunt.

“König, please,” You whine on a shaky exhale.

“Sh, sh, sh.”

König grinds between your lips, coating himself in your arousal before lining himself up. He is by no means patient, bullying half of his cock inside of you on his first thrust. Your head lulls forward, sniveling in his hold as your cunt stretches around his greedy cock.

He grunts through clenched teeth, pulling himself from you only to thrust mercilessly back in.

“Take this cock like a good girl,” He grits.

He finds a steady pace, hardly letting you adjust to his size before he’s fucking more of himself into you, your arousal soaking his throbbing cock.

“You want to act like a hure, hm?”

He leans in, letting go of your wrists to pick you up by your thighs, and gives you a stint of particularly brutal thrusts, your tits bouncing degradingly against your ribcage as he fucks you further into the bricks.

He snarls at you.

“Then I’ll treat you like a fucking hure.”

With your hands free, you’re clawing at him, trying to expel the overwhelming sensation of him robbing you of your tight, sensitive cunt. White knuckling his shirt and digging into his chest with your finger nails, pathetic whimpers leaving your lips.

“See? You can barely handle me, hure. You don’t need anyone else.”

You suck in a sharp breath when you hear bootsteps echoing at the end of the alleyway.

Sprung eyes lock with Simon, standing still in his spot, watching you get pounded against the wall.

König laughs, low and truly gut-wrenching. He doesn’t even have to look to know Simon’s there. As soon as he’s aware of his presence König doubles the pace of his thrusts, forcing his entire cock into you and filling you to the brim with each bottom out. His brute cock, his mound slapping against your clit, it turns your moans choppy and unrestrained as you succumb to the pleasure, the pain, the humiliation of knowing your Leuitenant has a front row seat to your punishment, watching König demean you and have his way with you.

You’ve gone entirely limp in his hold, intoxicated and cockdrunk, only able to focus on his ruthless cock ravaging your dripping cunt, the feeling of being stretched and filled, the burning eyes of Simon at the end of the alley.

“Alles meins,” He growls strictly, “Got it? All mine.”

You nod, stuttered moans pouring from your lips without thought. His grip on the back of your thighs tighten painfully in threat.

“Say it.”

“A-All yours!” You cry, lulling your head against the brick in defeat.

The pleasure is building in your lower abdomen, an electric and exponential euphoria taking control of your body, every muscle tensed and shaking.

“Tell your Lieutenant who you belong to.”

You twitch in his hold as he pushes you over the edge, not letting up in the slightest, cruelly abusing your g-spot as he works out every last wave of your overwhelming finish.

“König!”

♡ Jealous!König Makes A Bet With Reader ♡

♡ König Drabble Masterlist ♡

Dividers by the lovely @strangergraphics

[codnasties]

https://x.com/xfsca9/status/1885448591243620464

this and young soap.,..,. (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

mutual masturbation w/soap 🧼 (���� link)

my pussy whipped baby boy. soap loves her, pretty mound, all wet for him. and he shows it by eating you out into a babbling mess, fingering you until you make a mess over his fingers and fucking you nicely.

but as much as soap loves the feeling of your spongy walls on his hard cock, clentching around him and trying to milk him dry, he sometimes needs something else. something like the feeling your soft hands wrapping around him.

the feeling of your delicate digits tightly around his pulsating cock, tightening around him as if it were your pussy as you jerk him off. your thumb swiping ever once in a while over his tip, collecting the clear pre his cock is drooling out and spreading it over his shaft as you continue your ministrations.

and do not worry, he's not the kind of person to leave you hanging, soaking as desperate. so he will slip a cheeky hand under your panties and finger you. pulling his moist fingers out to circle your clit in a teasing way, without actually giving you attention where you need it the most.

but all of this does not, in any way, mean that he won't fuck you right after ;)

[kiss-theggoat]

How would the Slashers react to Their s/o hasn’t been getting sleep and randomly passed out as they were doing something 🤔

Slashers Reacting to a Sleepy S/O

Slashers included: Michael Meyers, Jason Voorhees, Asa Emory, Thomas Hewitt

Michael Meyers:

You hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. Most nights, you stayed awake with a book or the TV on, sitting anxiously on your bed, waiting for him. Whenever Michael went out late or disappeared for a few days, you could barely even relax, let alone catch a few hours of sleep. This week was particularly stressful for you. Michael had been gone for three days now, no where to be found.

Finally, the morning of day four, you were startled out of your novel to a bloodied and mud covered Michael slamming your front door, shoulders hunched and jumpsuit absolutely coated in filth.

A few hours later, you were scrubbing blood off of Michael’s shoulder, his entire body submerged in the bath you’d ran for him. Now that he was home, and you knew he was safe…you felt your entire body become tired, eyelids feeling like concrete. The warm water and smell of the eucalyptus body wash was lulling you to sleep, and before you know it, you’d fallen asleep, head resting against the wall and hands still on Michael’s shoulders.

He was confused at first, but he knew that you were stressed when he was gone. He stood from the bath, feeling clean and comfortable, and saw you, passed out against the wall with soap still dripping from your hands. He grabbed a towel, first drying your hands and then wrapping it around his waist, finally scooping you up off of the stool you sat on.

He carried you to the bed, laying beside you as he set you down on your pile of pillows and blankets.

Jason Voorhees:

You’d been helping Jason all day, cleaning the cabin, picking up garbage from the lake, taking the wood he chopped back to the shed. It was hard labor, and you had to admit, it was tough to keep up with your early rising, hard working boyfriend.

Jason was busy chopping wood. He swung the axe with ease, slicing through the wood like it was a hot knife through butter. The pile was stacking up, and his little helper hadn’t come to collect anything in a while. He set his axe down, scanning the trees for you. Nothing.

He began to walk down towards the cabin, where he hoped you were. It was hot today, sweat dripped down his neck as he walked. Finally, he made it to the cabin but still…no sign of you. He tilted his head, genuinely confused as to where you were.

But as he looked towards the shed, and there you were. Your skin was glistening, cheeks pink and head resting against the door of the shed. His chest swelled with warmth. You looked beautiful, and as he got closer, he saw that you’d fallen asleep.

He decided that even though there was plenty more work to be done, this was the perfect time to join you for a break. He plopped down beside you, resting his aching back against the shed. He leaned against your side, and when you rested your head on his shoulder, he wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to get up again.

Asa Emory:

Asa had been relentless lately. You two had just moved to a new city, and of course that meant it was time to start a new collection. He’d been keeping you up for days on end, rambling about his plans and showing you his drawings, collecting new species and documenting them in his journal, all with the lights on.

Usually you welcomed Asa’s rants and rambles but after the move, getting a new job, and taking care of your new puppy, you were absolutely exhausted.

Now, you were seated besides Asa at his desk. He was telling you about something or other about how he wanted to do a collection about something or something…you couldn’t do it anymore. You closed your eyes. You thought to yourself, I’ll just rest my eyes for a moment…

Asa’s head whipped around as he noticed yours fall to hit the desk, a tiny thud sounding as your forehead made contact with the wood. He stared at you for a moment, but knew that his project was important. He leaned back in his chair to grab a small throw blanket off of your shared bed.

He wrapped it around your shoulders, rubbing your back gently as he picked his pencil back up, continuing his detailed sketch.

Thomas Hewitt:

The humidity was killing you. Sweat was beading on your skin and rolling down your forehead, it felt like you might be suffocating down in Thomas’ basement. The smell was off putting, but you’d gotten used to it at this point.

He was sewing, and you couldn’t really focus on what he was making without feeling a tiny bit nauseous, but to be honest, even without looking, you were nauseous. You were overly tired, hot, sweaty, and had been trapped down in the basement for hours. Without warning, you stood up quickly, holding your stomach and taking a breath. “Tommy, I gotta go upstairs and lay down.”

He stared at you, a little bit concerned, but he knew you didn’t really like it down here. He gave you a nod and went back to his project. You quickly began to walk up the stairs, excited to finally lay down in your own bed that didn’t smell like rotting meat. The moment the door opened, you felt better, fresh air hitting your skin.

Your body felt fatigued, and you sat down on the top step, taking a deep breath. When the nausea faded, you were overtaken by the sleepiness, eyes sliding shut. Thomas didn’t hear the door shut, and he knew you would’ve if you’d left the basement. He stood, walking towards the stairs and seeing you…asleep on the top two steps, head leaning against the wall.

He let out a little laugh, walking up the stairs while wiping his hands off on the apron he wore. He slid one hand beneath your knees and one around your shoulders, holding you close to his body. He couldn’t stop smiling as he carried you towards your room.

[alltimecharlo]

can we have more bratty omega mack w alpha will pleaseeee

of course!!! never enough bratty omega mack! fic under the cut :)🩵

Will knows it’s coming before it even happens.

Mack’s been wound tight all day. He fidgeted through video review. Snapped at Eky during line rushes. Even chirped Toff during warmups, which is basically begging to get chirped back harder.

By the time they’re back in the locker room, Mack’s bouncing off the walls.

Will watches him from across the room, half-dressed and sharp-tongued, teasing Bordy with that feral grin of his. He’s got his skates off but hasn’t touched the rest of his gear, and he’s talking too fast, too loud—his voice is pitched just high enough to sound daring.

He’s doing it again.

Will feels it like a shift in barometric pressure—Mack’s omega scent winding itself tighter, sweet and spicy and testing. Not upset. Not scared. Just bratty, on purpose.

And Will?

Will’s had enough.

“You planning on unstrapping your pads anytime this year?” he asks, voice casual.

Mack whips around. “You planning on minding your business?”

A couple of the guys go “oooooh” in the background, like they’re watching a soap opera.

Will raises a brow. “You want to try that again, Omega?”

Mack blinks—just a little too slow, like he knows what he’s doing.

“Don’t call me—”

“My Omega,” Will says again, low and even, the word curling out of his mouth like a threat and a promise all at once.

The room goes quiet.

Not fully silent, but quiet in that way locker rooms get when something interesting is about to happen and no one wants to miss it.

Mack’s scent goes from teasing to alert in an instant. He shifts in place, not scared, not exactly—but aware.

And Will stands.

He doesn’t stalk over, doesn’t grab him.

He just walks up—slow, controlled—and stops in front of him.

Mack tilts his chin up, playing defiant. “What.”

Will leans in.

Not a word. Not a warning.

He just bends his head and presses his face—right into the side of Mack’s neck.

And exhales.

Long. Warm. Intentional.

There’s a collective gasp from the guys.

Will doesn’t even flinch.

Mack lets out a broken noise and instantly, instantly, melts into him.

His eyes flutter. His lips part. His entire body tips forward like his knees forgot how to function.

“Thought so,” Will murmurs, voice only for him.

Mack clutches at the hem of Will’s hoodie, scent rolling over into soft submission.

“You gonna act like that in front of the team?” Will continues, tone velvet-smooth. “Huff and strut and mouth off when you know you can’t back it up?”

Mack shivers.

“You wanted attention, baby,” Will says, nuzzling slow. “Now everyone knows exactly how you get it.”

A few guys cough awkwardly in the background.

Someone mutters, “Holy shit,” and Toff, ever the professional, goes, “Yeah, I’m just gonna... go check my stick length,” before vanishing toward the hallway.

Will doesn’t care.

Mack’s scent is all sugar now. No more bite, no more bark—just warm, dizzy calm.

Exactly how Will likes him.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back just enough to see his face.

Mack nods. “Mhm.”

Will grins. “Good. Now sit your pretty ass down and take off your gear.”

Mack obeys immediately, dazed and flushed, cheeks pink all the way to his ears.

And Will?

Will turns around, all slow swagger, and walks back to his stall like he didn’t just publicly scent his omega into total submission in front of half the roster.

Behind him, someone whistles low.

“Jesus,” Eky mutters. “You’re not even subtle about it anymore.”

Will shrugs. “Why would I be?”

Mack’s still sitting there, dreamy-eyed, gear half-off, looking like he just got wrecked by a gentle breeze.

Will looks over his shoulder and winks.

Mack flushes deeper.

Mine, Will thinks, smug as hell. And now everybody knows it.

♡

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Jealous (Soap/Ghost/Reader)

Part of Indulgence - Polyamory Collection

CW: threesome, ghost/soap in an established relationship, friends with benefits, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, cum as lube, anal sex, biting, dacryphilia, alcohol, simon is soft

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader: They/Them used

WC: 3.1K

“Aye shut up,” he groaned. Slamming the controller down on the couch cushion. I laughed, chest heaving as the screen in front of us flashed. I felt warm, even in just a tee and a pair of shorts. Beer flowed through my veins, loosening every bit of tension left in me after a long day at work. 

I always did enjoy it when he was home on leave. Nights spent at his house, falling asleep in a messy pile of tangled limbs on his couch. Things had noticeably shifted ever since he brought home Simon.

I wasn’t jealous per se. I knew the quickies we had were just a temporary fix until either of us found a partner. It was just shit luck that none of the dating apps never worked out. Just shit luck that I ended up filled to the brim with tension, eyes welling with tears as the dull buzz between my legs intensified. 

Part of me knew he could tell, whether it was my bouncing leg or my snappy attitude, something gave it away. That was why, when he sent a single text, I perked up. An image of a case of beer and two PlayStation controllers, beneath were two words. 

“Come over.”

-

“How’d they let you in the military if you’re this shit at aim?” I laughed, pushing his shoulder. 

“Not my forte, doll,” he shook his head. A flash of white flooded the screen. My character's body went limp, charred to a crisp. He tossed his head back against the couch, a deep laugh bellowing from his chest. 

“That, my dear, is how it’s done.” He held his hands up in the air, a satisfied smirk on his face. My jaw went slack, brows furrowing as I set the controller down on the coffee table. 

“I’m fucking leaving,” I couldn’t hide the smile that crept across my face. Forcing a pout, I stood, reaching down to grab my bag. The hardwood floors creaked, and in one motion a set of arms were around my waist. He grunted, tugging me back onto the couch. A laugh bursted from my chest, legs kicking as he tugged me into his embrace. 

“You said you’d stay the night, and you’re not driving home with how drunk you are,” he spoke matter-of-factly. He frowned, sticking out his bottom lip. 

“Fine, fuckin’ get off of me. You smell like cheese.” I nudged my elbow into his ribs. His bruising grip on me didn’t relent. Instead he leaned in, stubble brushing against my cheek. 

“You’re dramatic. You ate as much of that Brie as me.” He pressed his nose to my neck, roughly inhaling. I kicked my legs, squirming in his grip. “Smells cheesy.”

“Johnny!”

The door opened. In an instant I stilled, eyes whipping to the open doorframe. A hulking wall of muscle stepped in, dressed in an oversized black hoodie and basketball shorts. I knew who it was, even if he had a surgical mask covering the lower half of his face. Music blared from his headphones. It was loud enough to hear from the doorway. 

With a slam, the door closed. The man kicked his shoes off, narrowing his eyes at the scene before him. He shrugged the strap of his duffel bag off of his shoulder. With a thud it landed on the floor. 

“How was your workout, Si?” Johnny grinned, fingers splaying over my stomach. 

The man merely grumbled in response, stepping into the living room and turning down the hall. I groaned, squirming free of Johnny's grip. My hands went to my shorts. I tugged the hem down over my thighs, trying to ignore how much the fabric had ridden up. 

“I’m sorry-” I sputtered, tugging the blanket over my bare thighs. 

I could hear the shower turn on, white noise filling the apartment. Johnny chuckled, grabbing his controller from the coffee table. He grunted, settling beside me. I watched as he tugged the blanket over both of our laps. I swallowed, feeling his sweaty thigh brush against my own. 

“Sorry for sucking ass at this game?”

He hit unpause, not bothering to wait for me to grab my controller. I pursed my lips into a thin line, tongue sticking out of the corner of my mouth. I aimed my scope at Johnny, quickly pulling the trigger. His side of the split screen flashed red. 

“Aye, y’always were good at head,” he nudged me with his elbow. My breath hitched, fingers slipping over the controller. Another flash of white and a ball of orange fire consumed my character. “Not very good at lookin’ where you’re goin’ tho, aye?”

Out of the corner of my eye I could feel his blue eyes on me. Those plush lips curled into a smirk, canines glistening in the blue light. I swallowed down any response, mouth going dry. 

He nudged me again. His thumbs stilled on the controller. Taking the chance, I aimed at his motionless character. 

The screen faded to gray, soon being replaced by a pause menu. I sighed, setting my controller down beside me. 

“Doll.” He rested his hand on my thigh, gently squeezing. “Talk to me,” his fingers dug into my flesh. 

“Johnny, unpause the game.” I spared him only a quick glance before looking down at my lap. 

“Why you acting so weird,” he whined with a pout. “Not even lookin’ at me.” 

“I just-” I paused, lips parting, but tongue motionless. “I didn’t know Simon would be on leave too.” The words came out harsher than I intended. I sat up, holding my hands out. “I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Someone’s jealous,” he grinned, squeezing my thigh. 

“Johnny no-”

“I didn’t forget about you, I promise.” His fingers brushed higher, fingertips skating along my inner thigh. 

I gripped his wrist, fingers barely able to wrap around. My brows furrowed as I pushed his hand away. He didn’t budge, instead choosing to glide even higher with renewed vigor. 

“Johnny what are you doing?” I pulled away from his grip. His other hand grasped my shoulder tight. With every wiggle, every protest, he held me still. 

“Missed this pretty pussy,” he cooed, leaning in close enough for his facial hair to brush my jaw. 

“Johnny, Simon is in the other fucking room,” I spoke sternly. My teeth gritted, eyes locking onto the bathroom door. 

“So?” His tone was childish. “Keep talkin’ about how your tinder dates go so bad. This pussy needs some lovin’,” his palm cupped my clothed cunt. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip. A dark stain had formed at my core. My arousal soaked through the thin cotton. 

He moaned, sliding three fingers up my core. My breath hitched, breathy moans getting caught in my throat. 

“Cunts practically drooling,” he muttered next to my ear. His fingers slipped under the band of my shorts. I gasped as his fingers found my throbbing clit. He smirked against my skin as he rubbed quick circles into the bud. I whined, hips steadily rocking against his palm. 

“Johnny-” I whimpered. He pressed soft kisses along my jawline before dipping down to my neck. Two of his digits slid down my slit before sliding into my entrance. The heel of his palm ground against my clit as he began slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of me. I grasped his Mohawk, tugging his face further into the crook of my neck. 

With every thrust, lewd squelching emanated from my cunt. I glanced down at my lap with half-lidded eyes, watching as he fingered me beneath my shorts. 

Soft kisses and licks soon turned to harsh sucks and bites. I mindlessly rocked my hips against his fingers, moaning as he left purple marks in the wake of his kiss. His teeth sunk into my pulse point, hard enough for little bubbles of blood to rise to the surface. He groaned, licking over the mark and whispering soft apologies into my marred skin. 

“Fuck-” he cursed, squirming in his seat. “Need to feel you.”

He pulled me by my thigh, shifting me onto my back. With wide eyes I stared as he hovered over me. A deep blush settled over his cheeks. His blue eyes had shifted from cerulean to navy as his pupils dilated. The outline of his cock showed through his sweats. He was stiff, a small wet spot at his tip.

“Need it so bad-” he spoke through grunts as he rutted his stiff cock against my thigh. “Miss this cunt so much.”

I glanced at the bathroom door. Steam poured from the gap at the bottom of the wood. Biting my lip, I turned my focus to Johnny. Surely, if he was okay with it then it would be fine, right?

“Fuck- okay.” I pushed my shorts over my hips. Bending my knees, I ripped the sodden fabric from my legs. He shoved his sweats down just enough for his leaking cock to spring free. He pushed my knees to my chest, blue eyes fixated on my cunt as he lined himself up. 

The stretch of his cock ached. It’d been a while since I’d felt this. I tossed my head back against the armrest, a lust-drenched moan falling from my lips. He inched his cock inside me, grunting as I fluttered around him. He braced himself with one hand on the armrest, the other gripping my hip with a bruising strength.

“Missed this cunt so much-” he grunted as he bottomed out. 

“Move, please” I stared up at him through my lashes, tears brimming in my eyes. I felt so undeniably full, stretched to the brim, and yet I needed more. 

His pace was fast, with a strength that jolted my body. The slap of his hips against my ass echoed through the room. I couldn’t help the unfiltered moans that fell from my lips. At this point any previous thoughts of Simon had faded, replaced with the thick cock splitting me open. 

His eyes squeezed shut, jaw going slack as he moaned. Damp curls stuck to his forehead. Sweat beaded down his toned chest. His fingers kneaded the flesh of my ass. His eyes were fixated on my thighs, fat rippling with every thrust. 

“Squeezin’ my fuckin’ cock,” he groaned, gaze meeting mine. “Tell me how bad you needed this.”

“S-o-o b-a-a-d,” my voice quivered with every slap of his hips. He smirked, staring down at me with half-lidded eyes. 

“That’s it. I’ll fuck you so good. Make up for lost time,” he babbled, thick brows knitting. 

Every drag of his cock against my insides had my heart fluttering. Tension built in my core, every thrust only adding to the burning fire in my limbs. 

He tugged my legs over his hips, toying with my limbs as if I were a doll. His big palm splayed over my stomach, pushing down hard enough to feel his cock stretching me out. I moaned as white spots filled my vision.

He fucked into me faster, every grunt lifting in pitch. The deep blush on his cheeks spread down his neck to his chest. 

“Fuckimsoclose-” he sputtered. His pleasure drew him further into me, hips pistoning in and out of me at a brutal pace. My muscles tensed, toes curling, thighs quivering around his waist. 

My eyes screwed shut, brows furrowing as the building tension snapped. A jolt of electricity washed over my body as every nerve ending fired at once. I choked out a sob, cunt squeezing around his cock. 

Static washed over my body, muscles going limp in his grasp. I turned my head, cheek pressed against the suede. A stream of light flooded the room, dappled by plumes of steam. A muscular figure stood in the doorway, halting his gait. 

With a final thrust, Johnny stilled. Warmth flooded my core, spilling down my inner thighs. I whined as he pulled out. My vision slowly came back into focus. My gaze locked onto the set of bare feet in front of me, slowly climbing higher. With his blonde hair dripping wet and a towel loosely hanging off his hip, he stood in front of me. Simon Riley. 

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-”

My breath hitched when I felt his hand graze my knee. He parted my legs, brown eyes raking across my abused cunt. His palm slid up my inner thigh, ignoring any apology that fell from my lips. Johnny sat back on his shins, watching as his boyfriend spread my cunt with two fingers. Cum oozed from my pussy, coating my inner thighs. 

“He didn’t even bother to clean you up, did he?” Simon shook his head. With a wave of his hand, Johnny rose to his feet. Simon took the Scots' place, leaning down to press a kiss to my thigh. I clasped my hand over my mouth, muffling the whine that rose from my sticky chest. His eyes didn’t leave mine for a moment as he kissed higher and higher and higher. 

My hips twitched when he ran his tongue up my slit. He groaned, throwing my legs over his shoulders. His strong nose bumped against my clit as his tongue lapped up his boyfriend's cum. 

“Fuck! Simon!” I cried, rutting my hips against his face. Johnny, standing idly, stared at the scene with wide eyes. He moaned into my cunt, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. I whined as his tongue ran up my slit. He pressed a chaste kiss to my puffy clit before sitting back on his shins. 

He was visibly erect under the towel. His hand gripped his cock through the cotton. I propped myself up on one elbow and used my other hand to tug at the towel. He grasped my wrist with his calloused fingers. 

“You got room in you for one more round?” He pushed my hand away before bringing his fingers back to the towel. His fingertips tantalizingly danced along the edge of the towel. 

“Yeah,” I nodded. 

He dropped the towel to the ground. My eyes locked onto his bobbing cock. He was longer than Johnny, but not as thick. At the head of his cock was a single silver ring. He was already leaking, a thin string of cum drooling from his tip. 

I caught my lip between my teeth, watching as he lined himself up with my cunt. The head of his cock nudged against my clit, earning a strangled whine from my throat. 

“Johnny won’t stop talking about how good this pretty pussy of yours feels.” He bucked his hips forward, pushing his cock inside of me. The breath was ripped from my lungs as he fully sheathed himself inside of me. 

“Simon!” I cried, tears welling in my eyes as he stretched me out. He was forceful, more domineering than Johnny. The strength which he grabbed my hips with was addicting. I was sure he’d leave behind little fingertip shaped bruises as a reminder. 

“Taking me so good, aren’t you, love,” he grunted, bringing one of his hands to my cunt. “Cute little clit needs some attention. Practically throbbing.” He circled his thumb around my clit, timing his pace with his brutal thrusts. 

His hips slammed against mine with a bruising force. The couch creaked beneath us. My body jolted with every thrust. My vision went unfocused, lips parting in a silent scream. Drool pooled in the corners of my mouth, spilling down my chin. 

“Fuckin’ you dumb, aren’t I?” He leaned forward, whispering beside my ear. “Such a good pet,” he cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek, now soaked in tears. 

“Should’ve brought you home sooner, huh?” Johnny asked from over Simons shoulder. I didn’t respond, only giving him a whimper as Simon fucked me into the couch. 

His hips stopped abruptly, hand grabbing my face between his thick digits. He pulled me to look at him, thick brows furrowing in anger. 

“He asked you a question, pet.” Simon spat. “Be a good toy and answer.”

“Yes! Ye-hes!” I babbled, choking on my tears. His brutal pace started again in an instant. The cushions shifted as Johnny kneeled behind his lover. He ran his hands over Simon’s stomach, gripping his love handles tight. 

“Please le’ me fuck you, Si. Yer ass looks so bonnie.”

Simons thrusts drew shallower as he sat up straight. He glanced at the Scot over his shoulder. 

“Fuckin’ mutt,” he grunted, pushing down harder on my clit. I whined, hands gripping his wrist. He didn’t relent. “Fine.”

Johnny grinned, gripping Simon's shoulder to steady him. The Brit’s hips stilled inside me, thumb still teasing my clit.

Simon's eyes fluttered closed. His plush lips parted, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. Johnny pressed a chaste kiss to Simon's neck before biting down on his shoulder, muffling the moan that rose from his throat. Johnny gripped Simon’s hips, urging him to move. 

“Come on, pretty boy. Don’t keep them waiting.” He cooed, blue eyes meeting mine. 

“Fuck- I’m not gonna last,” Simon grunted. He pushed one of my knees against my chest, fucking deeper into me. I sobbed, vision blurred with tears. He leaned forward, bracing both of his hands on the armrest. His breath wafted over my chest as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. 

“Feel so good, LT.” Johnny moaned, brows knitting as he chased his orgasm. Soft noises left Simon’s lips, growing more needy with every thrust of his hips. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him into my embrace. 

“Mh- feel so good,” Simon slurred, pressing wet kisses to my neck.

“Cum in me, Simon,” I whined, locking my legs behind his back. He grunted, teeth sinking into my pulse point. My head spun as tension slowly built in my core. My gaze shifted to Johnny. His eyes were screwed shut, hands gripping the fat of Simon's ass. 

His hand landed harshly on Simons ass. A soft whine fell from the Brit’s lips. The filthy noise was enough to push me over the edge. I tossed my head back against the armrest, cunt milking his cock as I came. 

“Oh, fuck- oh fuck-” Simon groaned, spilling inside of me. His cock twitched, hips stilling as he reached his orgasm. Warmth flooded me, spilling down my inner thighs. 

With a grunt, Johnny pulled out, blue eyes fixated on his boyfriend’s ass. Simon didn’t move, instead choosing to smother me with his weight. His cock slowly softened inside of me. I turned my head, pressing kisses to his temple. 

It seemed odd, how needy he’d become. A stark contrast from his brooding demeanor. I shot a glance at Johnny, who simply shrugged at my confusion. 

“Johnny, I might have to steal this one from you,” Simon mumbled against my neck. 

“No- no get the fuck up.” Johnny stood, tugging at his boyfriends tattooed arm. I laughed, my hands running up the back of the Brit’s neck. My fingers carded through his damp curls. 

“You jealous, Johnny?”

Masterlist

[nectarlife]

Gentle Skincare & Natural Bath Bombs from Nectar Life

This article explores the shift toward conscious skincare with a spotlight on skincare for all skin types and gentle skincare products. Featuring handcrafted essentials from Nectar Life, it highlights clean, plant-powered options like non toxic bath bombs and the indulgent whipped soap collection—perfect for sensitive skin and self-care lovers. Why It Matters Whether you're a retailer or a mindful buyer, this guide helps you choose products that are kind to the skin and the planet. Dive into natural self-care with Nectar Life’s thoughtfully made, beautifully packaged essentials. Read more: https://medium.com/@nectarlife00/skin-love-starts-here-shop-natural-handmade-soaps-and-non-toxic-bath-bombs-07ac33a4c445

[luxcuriousao3]

Mer!Soap x Human!Ghost

A belated snippet (~1k words) of a mermay fic I started but never finished. Johnny is a spinner shark mer. Inspired by Not Even The Depths by CedarDove on AO3.

cw: loss of limbs (fins), depression, mentions of past mer poaching

Johnny was curled up in the cave in his tank, hiding from the aquarium staff. He was always in there, really—he only ever came out if he was lured with food. He'd stopped letting them tend to his wounds weeks ago, but since he was mostly healed, they'd allowed it.

Mostly healed. Because Johnny was still missing a large chunk of the fin on his right arm, along with the entirety of his smaller dorsal fin. He hated catching his own reflection in the glass of his tank and seeing his mutilated body. Just another reason to stay inside his cave.

Whenever he did surface for food, the humans spoke to him in bright, cheerful tones that grated against his sensitive, pointed ears, but to each other, it was all hushed, worried whispers. Whispers about him.

He'd realized early on in his time here that they didn't know he could understand them. Granted, his comprehension of their finicky language hadn't been the best when he'd been rescued, but as the months passed, he'd grasped it quite well. There were still some words he didn't know, and sometimes, if they spoke too fast or too quietly, it was a struggle to follow, but for the most part, he knew exactly what they were talking about.

Johnny's nose twitched as the scent of fresh blood greeted him, and he was off like a shot, breaking the surface and grabbing the dead fish that was tossed to him. It was humiliating, being unable to catch and kill his own food. But he supposed that was just his life now.

He retreated slightly, only his eyes above the water as he ate his first fish and spied on the humans.

Right now, they were murmuring to each other about a new human joining the aquarium—one who would be Johnny's new "caretaker." He associated that word with the woman to the left, the one who brought him food and bared her teeth at him—a friendly gesture among humans, he'd learned after his initial, aggressive reaction to what was a threat display among shark mers—periodically throughout the day. Johnny didn't find that news very interesting, so when he finished stripping the meat off the fish's bones, he tossed the skeleton back onto the dock by their feet, interrupting them and indicating he was ready for another.

A second fish was thrown his way, and he ate it in the same fashion that he had the first. Once, he would have kept the prettiest bones and added them to his collection of treasures, but he didn't see the point in it anymore. He didn't see the point in much of anything, these days…

Johnny tossed the second fish skeleton on the dock—it was annoying that they only gave him one at a time, because as useless as he now was, even dead fish couldn't escape him. He'd gathered that they did it to keep him out of his cave for longer so they could get a better look at his healing injuries. Regardless, it irritated Johnny to no end, and he swished his tail back and forth in agitation when his caretaker took too long to give him another fish, distracted by something. He hissed and chittered at her, demanding the rest of his meal in very foul mermish.

When she finally gave it to him, he bit its head off with more force than necessary, squishing the eyeballs between his sharp, pointed teeth with a squelch and a pop, the way he knew she hated. Just as expected, she wrinkled her nose and shivered, and Johnny turned away from her, chewing his fish with a smug smile.

It was then that his senses tingled, and he realized he was being watched by someone other than the two on the dock. His head whipped to the side, lightning fast, bright blue eyes locking onto a vague blur standing in front of his tank. Though mers had better eyesight than regular sharks, it was still not particularly good. So Johnny did what any mer would do, and dove through the water to go investigate the threat to his territory.

He wobbled as he swam, and though he had been doing so for months now, it never ceased to be embarrassing. So, slower than he was used to, but still much faster than a human could ever dream of going without one of their big, metal, floating contraptions, Johnny spun sharply right in front of the glass and then pressed himself against it, baring his teeth in what was decidedly not a friendly gesture.

The intruder was a tall, broad human, bigger than most Johnny had seen. Johnny was large for his kind of mer—he was not the longest, though he was nearly eight feet from top to tail, but he was far stockier than any other he’d encountered, with wide shoulders and thick, muscular arms. Yet this man was wider, and with how he was standing so close to Johnny’s tank, eyes fixed on him unblinkingly, he registered as a threat. Johnny smacked the end of his tail hard against the glass hard, making his displeasure known.

Immediately, the man backed away, hands raised to show he meant no harm. The bottom half of his face was covered by the strange cloth that humans wore, but his eyes were visible. There was no fear in them despite Johnny’s aggressiveness. This human was a predator, just like him, and predators didn’t spook so easily.

Johnny hissed, bubbles escaping from his mouth as he clacked his teeth and banged his tail on the glass again. He wasn’t usually so bothered by the presence of other predators—his species of mer were well known for school hunting, after all, even if they weren’t otherwise very social—but he was vulnerable, with his missing fins. And he had learned first hand just how dangerous humans could be. This one was one he wouldn’t let himself underestimate.

The human retreated, and Johnny settled slightly, peering through the glass until his blurry shape was gone entirely. Only then did he return to his cave, not bothering to collect the half-eaten fish he’d dropped. He wasn’t hungry anymore. The fish could join him in rotting at the bottom of this stupid tank, for all he cared.

[briefalpacashark]

~Meeting 141~

The first time you meet the members of task force 141.

Warning: mentions of violence, death, blood.

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It was a typical mission. Neck deep in shit and halfway to hell. The mission was simple. It had two parts. The first part was to collect information off a computer. It was a two team mission, Alpha consisting of Gaz, Soap and Ghost. And Bravo, consisting of Price and Roach. Currently, they were both making their way through an oil rig in the early hours of the morning, with the cover of night. A nice little base for some black market operations. The second part of the mission was harder. Extracting the asset. And asset Price informed them beforehand would be joining their team.

“What ya recon he's gonna be like?” Soap asked as he stood in the main office room, gun raised at the door, ready for anything. The group had many guesses of who the newest member of their team would be. Price wasen't necessarily secretive about them, but he didn't tell them anything about them either. “He's a medic. Probably likes sticking stuff up ass’s,” Ghost, who was positioned by the door, said, making the two guys smirk. “Youll love that then, won't you?” Gaz asked, not taking his eyes off the computer screen in front of him. Soap chuckled at Ghost's dead panned look. “Come on Gaz, you know he's sensitive about that sort of thing,” Soap joked. “I hope you both get shot in the ass,” Ghost grumbled. “Done,” Gaz announced. “Alright, let's move,” Soap said. Getting into formation, they peeled out of the room. “Ghost to Price, we've got the package, on the move out of er,” Ghost spoke into the com's. “Copy that, Asset secured, see you soon,” Price's voice cracked over the radio. They moved through the oil rig quietly, their shadows barely noticeable in the dark as they moved down the outer side of the buildings, the metal racks slick with the rain that had just started. Then it started, a lucky spot, a glint of metal perhaps brought attention to team Alpha. They were set upon by a volley of bullets. They bucked behind the cover of a building, trying to return fire as best they could. Ghost, who had taken point, peeked around the building taking out two men. That was until he felt his leg buckle as pain erupted up his thigh. “FUCK!” he exclaimed as he dropped to one knee.

“WE'RE TAKING HEAVEY FIRE! GHOST GOT HIT!” Gaz yelled into the com's as he helped Ghost to the ground. He took one look at the bullet hole, his face washing itself of colour. It was spurting blood like crazy. “He's hit bad!” Gaz added. His worry for his friend was quickly forgotten when a group of men came around a corner to their left. He raised his gun and started shooting. “Theres too many,” Soap grunted as they tucked themselves behind a few barrels. They were pinned down, unable to return fire and stuck like sitting ducks. They couldn't use explosives, one wrong flame could set the whole place up like a tinderbox. The enemy team slowly moved forward, laying the cover on heavy as they approached the barrels. The soft rapid patter of feet on metal drew the lad's eyes high. And there you were. Your small five foot three frame throwing itself of a higher level soaring across the sky. Knife and gun in hand. Your hair long and braided, whipped in the wind behind you. The assaulting team barely registered your presence before you landed upon the lead. Your knife burying itself beep into his neck, His body toppled over with the hit. You used the momentum to roll up to your next opponent, you dragged the knife across the back of his knee, pulling him into a kneel. Rising up you shot him in the head before propping his body up as a shied as you delivered three more accurate shots. The small assault team now all lay dead at your feet. Fueled with the adrenalin, and the absurdity of the stunt you had just pulled, you slowly tuned around to the three guys peeking over the barrels with shocked looks.

“Friendly,” you raised both your hands. You chest heaved, your eyes scanning over them to see if they would believe you. “Macgyver, the fuck was that!” You snapped around to Price, who stood at the edge of the level you had jumped from. Seeing if from that angle you could see that you drastically underestimate the height of it. “Improvisation?” you shrugged, you didn't really know yourself. You had never done anything that crazy before. yet you had seen your team mates in danger. And you acted. “Fucking hell. Patch Ghost up and let's get the hell out of here! We'll provide cover!” he ordered. You nodded, tucking your gun and knife into the back of your pants. You rushed up to the barrel, vaulting over it and landing in a crouch over the legs of who you assumed was Ghost. What stared back at you was a skull mask, revealing only the dark pools of his eyes. He certainly was a sight. One you didn't know whether to be scared of or impressed by. “Ghost?” You asked. In your adrenaline fueled state, you didn't notice how close you were to him. He could feel your hot breath fanning his face. He could smell the lavender soap you had used that morning. He gave a curt nod, but you had already moved your eyes down his body, looking from the issue. Finding it the gapping whole you quickly knew what it was. The bullet had hit an artery. Your hands ran down the Ghost's vest, searching for the familiar tourniquet. Soap shared a look with Gaz as you practically fondled their friend. Finding the tourniquet, you undid it, slipping it up his thigh. It was a high shot, so your hands were placed dangerously close to his groin as you quickly worked your magic. Ghost didn't know what to do or say as your small hands touched his so closely with no remorse. After all, you were a medic. You didn't care about that sort of stuff. Still, you could feel a blush dusting the tops of your ears. “He's hit an arty, we need to get him out. I've stopped the bleeding, but I need tools to fix that,” you said absentmindedly peeking around the corner of the building. You quickly ducked your head back as bullets volleyed towards you.

“Ok, can't go that way, Come on,” You swiveled yourself to Ghost's left side, taking his arm and hooking it over your shoulders. You huffed as you heaved him to his feet, They were momentarily surprised at the strength your little body possessed. Gaz quickly took his other arm and you lead them quickly to the rendezvous point. Where you practically threw ghost into the boat. The poor lad grunted as he hit the bottom of the boat taking Gaz with him. “Sorry,” you apologized jumping over them to the controls of the boat. “Were at the rendezvoused, where are you?” Soap asked into the com's. “Look up,” Piece said. You all did just in time to see their bodies plunge into the water beside you. You waited till they were pulled into the boat before you slammed the throttle down. The sun slowly started to rise, casting a golden hue over you. “Both assets secured?” Soap asked. Price nodded, wringing his hat out, Gaz doing the same as he lifted up the hard drive. “So,” Soap trailed off. "She's a woman," he stated. "Great deduction skills," Ghost commented. “That is Sargent Y/L/N. Australian special forces. Best medic out there. Can do anything a doctor can do,” Price stated. “Oh Cap, you're making me blush,” you said, looking back at them with the brightest smile you could muster. A smile that seemed to be awfully contagious. “Men meet the newest member of 141,” Pierce smiled back at you. “Glad to be on board,” you nodded before your eyes fell back to Ghost. “Can someone take over?” You asked. Roach happily obliged. Walking over to Ghost you pulled your knife and started cutting away at his pants. “At least buy me dinner first, love,” You chuckled slightly, placing your hand on his bear thigh gazing deeply into the bullet hole. Your hand slipped around the back. “No exit wound. Looks like I'm gonna have to dig it out when we get back,” you muttered. Ghost wasn't listening, he was fixated on the feeling of your hand running across his bear skin. Aside from the burning pain of being shot, it felt pleasant. “I think I might have a bullet hole too,” Soap interjected, raising his hand. "I'll put one in you," Price warned.

And that was how you first meet the 141. Literally dropping into their lives.

================================================

--COD Master List Here--

================================================

[mistydeyes]

the boys during medical residency

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summary: we've seen the boys on the field but how would they deal on the other side of battle: in the medical field?

pairing: none!

warnings: swearing, medical descriptions

a/n: just a lil something something as i'm working on a few requests, wips, and preparing for my hospital rotation on monday!

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price

specialty: general surgery

the long hours or sudden calls don’t get to him bc this man never sleeps

"Price, sorry it's late but-" "I'll be right in"

no one knows how he does it but rumor has it he can be ready and over at the hospital in 20 minutes tops

maybe he's just the king of multitasking

a great educator for his fellow medical professionals and patients

he can make a procedure sound like a walk in the park with his soft smile and reassuring words

in fact, the new intern mistook him for a senior doctor when they first met him

that boosted his ego and made the early mornings even more worth it

once he's in the operating room, he is fully focused and locked in

regardless of the surgeon's choice of music for that day, price is ready to go and immediately steps in when its time

speaking of which, his stitches are textbook, perfectly aligned, high tensile strength, and with no tissue reaction

always has everything prepared for handoff to the night resident

this man is READY to leave once he sees his co-resident enter the ward

he gives the most essential run down (he's just tired, not sloppy) and he gets the hell out of there

soap

specialty: pediatrics

most people think pediatrics are straight forward but actually you need to have some creativity

that’s where soap comes in

a child needs to take a respiratory test but is having trouble? think of it like you’re blowing birthday candles

a child doesn’t understand why they need to have their operation? time to pull out dolls and teddy bears to show how the doctors are gonna make them better

he always shows up no matter how early or late with a smile on his face

easily the kids’ favorite resident (he’s the first person most ask to sign their cast)

hates pre-rounds, he wants to get right in and see the patient's and families for the day

despite this, the other senior and junior residents (even the interns) have to remind him that it is essential to have a plan

when he's finally let loose is able to round, he has a field day walking down the hall

you just know all the attendings and nurses have to keep it a secret that he's working the night shift

or else they'll have a full floor of excited kids waiting to chat when he comes in during rounds

gaz

specialty: physical medicine and rehabilitation

the absolute king of finding resources

he'll whip out a full pdf study guide on spinal cord injury treatment and leave you questioning if he made this or found it online

also has one of those pocket guides that sums up everything you learn in med school

he's always there to help out those in the same boat

has such a steady hand when it comes to injections for spascicity

always has a terrible joke when he sees someone is receiving botulinum toxin

"You're basically receiving a less cool botox treatment"

despite his corny jokes, the residents, especially the geriatric ones, love him

has a friendly demeanor when collecting a patient's history, they simply feel like its a conversation and they'll tell him everything

he loves when people report sport accidents but still say they'll go back to it when they're better

he appreciates the dedication fr

also great at communicating with patient's and giving them detailed instructions to follow before their next visit

but his favorite part of the job? the diversity of the patient's he sees

PM&R is such a unique speciality that you'll see patients with a variety of injuries from all walks of life

this man truly thrives on his adaptability to educate and treat whatever patient the hospital throws to him

ghost

speciality: emergency medicine

sign-out in the morning is always the most awkward with him

as the nurse gives him a run-down of his patients, he'll just stare and occasionally nod to show he's following

"That all?" is his go-to way to end the conversation and actually begin the day's work

despite his quiet demeanor, he'll go through the motions beautifully for any emergency

easily the attending's favorite because he requires no further instruction and keeps a level head given the hectic nature of the room

since he's the attending's favorite, he's the intern's nightmare with his constant stares and the overwhelming presence he gives

"Am I doing something wrong, Simon?" the intern asks as she preps a central line and he just shakes his head, "Personally not how I would do it but go ahead."

this motherfucker

despite this, everyone admits no one deserves the title of "chief resident" more than him

he's not necessarily the best in the "educating others" department but he's sure to give a good explanation if needed

just know he's not happy about it

but if you survive the infamous ghost of the emergency department, you're on the path to success

[steddieasitgoes]

marshmallows roasting on an open fire

Happy @steddiemas to everyone who's celebrating/participating! I'm pulling double duty with this one, fulfilling the prompt "fireplace" and my prompt for @thefreakandthehair Spicy Six -ber Month Challenge which was: “There’s only one right way to roast a marshmallow, and it’s to light it on fire.” Tags: Established Relationship, Eddie Munson Is A Menace, Blizzards, Idiots In Love wc: 1225 | Rated: T read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“I can’t believe you invited me over here without having dessert for me,” Eddie groans, clutching his stomach. It doesn’t matter that he had to unbutton his pants twenty minutes ago to make room for his seventh slice of pizza; his stomach still growls angrily as if it's been starved for weeks. 

Steve rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he plucks a fallen pepperoni from the empty pizza box. “Don’t blame this on me. You’re the one who showed up on my doorstep unannounced with pizza and no dessert in the middle of a blizzard.” 

As if on cue, the wind howls outside, whipping around the freshly fallen snow into mini tornados that crash into the house's many windows. The power went out hours ago, plunging the too-big house into total darkness until Steve managed to find the flashlight Dustin got him for Christmas last year. When Eddie showed up, he managed to get the stubborn fireplace Steve was convinced was just for show lit, saving them both from hypothermia. 

Since then, they’ve been lounging on the floor of Steve’s living room, basking in the warmth of the fire and slowly shedding layers of dusty blankets Steve found in the linen closet. It’s not how Steve planned to spend the day, but he’s not complaining either. It’s unlikely he would have survived Hawkins's first blizzard in a decade by himself. 

He could do without Eddie’s nonstop bemoaning about dessert, though. 

“How is a man supposed to live without a sweet treat?” Eddie whines, throwing his hand over his face like an overdramatic housewife on those soaps El is obsessed with. 

“You’re worse than Henderson, dude.” 

Eddie scoffs, flipping Steve off immediately. “I take great offense to that. Henderson is a grade-A whiner with a know-it-all-tone. I am merely pointing out an injustice that has befallen us here in this humble abode you begrudgingly call home.” 

“Good to know your lack of dessert doesn’t affect your theatrics.” Steve chucks one of his mom’s ugly ass throw pillows in Eddie’s direction, but it dips at the last second, landing squarely in Eddie’s lap instead of decking him in the face as he intended. 

“Come on,” Eddie whines again. “I know you have a mean sweet tooth, too. Buckley told me all about your frequent trips to the freezer at Scoops. Tell me, did the cookie dough gallon really get delivered empty, or did you eat it all in one shift, big boy?” 

Steve’s face reddens, and it, unfortunately, has nothing to do with the fire burning a few feet in front of him. “I’m going to kill her.” 

Eddie cackles and slowly pushes himself up from the floor. His unbuttoned pants fall slightly without his belt and button to secure them around his thin frame, but he pays them no mind, already tripping his way into the kitchen with Steve’s flashlight. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, trying his best to untangle himself from the mess of blankets he’s still cocooned in. 

“There has to be something in this big ass kitchen that’ll satisfy my sweet tooth.”

“Am I not sweet enough for you, darling” Steve teases, sneaking his arms around Eddie’s bloated stomach. He hooks his head over Eddie’s shoulder, tilting his head away enough to bat his eyelashes in a way he knows drives Eddie wild. 

Like clockwork, Eddie makes a strangled sound before shrugging Steve off of him. “Did you forget the last time you played this game with me?” He doesn’t wait for Steve to respond and instead shoves his head into the walk-in pantry. 

“I had your teeth marks on my ass for weeks!” 

“Yeah, and you’re lucky it was just your ass, baby,” Eddie says, words sounding distant as he shoves himself further into the pantry. 

The rustling of bags has nothing on the howling wind outside, definitely not after there’s a clatter of bins that follow. Eddie swears, but Steve doesn’t dare interfere. He’s learned not to interrupt his boyfriend when he’s on some sort of mission — the bruise on his hips is the only reminder he needs. 

There’s another cacophony of falling baskets and swears before Eddie emerges with half a bag of marshmallows, a sleeve of what appears to be graham crackers, and one Hershey bar that Eddie’s already taking a bite out of. 

Eddie thrusts them over his head in victory as he kicks the door shut behind him. “Victory is ours, Sir Stevery, fore I have secured us the sweetest of provisions.” 

“And tell me, Eds, how are you going to make S’mores in the middle of a blizzard? We don’t have a bonfire!” 

Eddie tsks, shaking his head fondly as he comes to pats Steve's shoulder. “Oh silly, Stevie, you don’t need a bonfire for S’mores. That’s just something the government wants you to think. We have a fire right there!” 

Steve follows Eddie’s extended finger to the lit fireplace, still burning its way through the handful of logs Eddie had arranged hours ago. And okay, yes, technically, they do have fire, but Steve doesn’t think they should go around sticking marshmallows into the damn thing, especially when they don’t have wood skewers for the marshmallows to go on. 

There’s no time to voice his concern, though, because Eddie races toward the fireplace with a marshmallow skewered on a serving fork he must have found in the depths of the pantry. 

“Be careful!” Steve shouts as Eddie thrusts the marshmallow into the flame without a care in the world, as if he’s not holding a metal fucking fork that’s not meant to be used for roasting marshmallows. Reluctantly, he settles on his knees beside Eddie and runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe you shouldn’t stick it in all the way.” 

“Never heard that before,” Eddie jokes before waving off his boyfriend’s fretting as he peels his eyes away from the toasting snack and looks at Steve pointedly. “There’s only one right way to roast a marshmallow, and it’s to light it on fire.” Eddie shoves the marshmallow deeper into the flame, rotating it slowly, ensuring the entire thing is engulfed. 

“Yeah, maybe when you’re outside!” Steve snarks, trying his best to tug Eddie’s arm and the fork free from the growing inferno. “You’re cooking that thing in a fireplace in my house!” 

“Stop being such a drama king, it’s fine! See!” Eddie says, yanking the marshmallow free. 

It’s not fine. 

It’s the complete opposite of fine, actually. 

The marshmallow is its own inferno, now, growing bigger despite Eddie trying to blow it out. His efforts only make things worse, sending embers around the room and setting the frayed edges of one of the dusty old blankets on fire. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie shouts, shoving the flaming marshmallow into the ash bucket before running to help Steve stomp out the growing flame on the blanket.

Burnt socks, an ash-stricken carpet, and a few minutes later, they manage to get everything under control, and when they do, they collapse onto the floor in a panting, exhausted heap.

“So, that was a bad idea.” 

“You think?” Steve asks before immediately doubling over in laughter. “I can’t believe your sweet tooth almost set the house on fire!” 

Eddie pouts before his lips twitch into a mischievous grin. “Guess you’ll have to be my sweet treat after all.”