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all-purpose-dish-soap · 4 days

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so the million sand dollar question for the mer au............. which of the sharkies tries to dp reader with both his cocks at the same time just to see her blubber and tear up and squirm under him?? its ghost its totally ghost he would fucking do it like the sadist he is

Mer Ghost would have you doing things you're a little ashamed of in the morning, you know what I mean? (��´艸｀❤)

...

54 / 1.4k

kinktober keywords: teratophilia, monster fucking (mentioned)

You toss and turn in the sand, unable to enjoy your sunny spot. You smooth your hands over your tail scales.

Gaz looks over from where he's sunning his tail. "What's wrong, love?"

"I'm still sore from last night," you mutter.

"That's what you get for trying to play with the big boys, sweetheart."

"It's not my fault the big boys wanna play with me."

"You tempt your share of attention. And then you go and bite off more than you can handle."

Soap's head pops up from Gaz's other side. "Don't remember hearin' her complain last night.” He smirks. “Matter a' fact, it sounded like you were enjoyin' yourself. Price was givin' it to you good, sounded like."

You huff and turn your back, crossing your arms and curling up on the warm surface of the sand. Stupid sharks.

"Wee pout if I ever saw one." Soap reaches a thick arm over to you to drag you between them. You wriggle away from his grabby hand. On your other side, Ghost--who you thought was napping--speaks up.

"Wasn't Price," he says simply.

"Ghost, shhhh--!"

Soap's head snaps up. A sly grin spreads across his face. You're supposed to keep to Price's bed at night. Everyone knows that.

Gaz's brows twitch almost to his hairline. "Sneaking out to fool around with Ghost. You're gonna be in big trouble when Price finds out."

You extricate yourself from Soap's claws and dart around to Ghost's other side to put him between you and the others. You press yourself into his chest, wishing to bury yourself under him like a big, bristly rock. Your scales are hot with humiliation.

He gathers your small-fish frame against his chest and rests his enormous clawed hand in your hair. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

Gaz chuckles. "She's a busy girl these nights."

Soap circles over to rest on your other side. The seawater ripples off his tail and tickles your back in the worst way. "So," he says, smug, "what did you do to make her sing like that?"

Ghost's hand tightens in your hair, drawing your small form closer still, until your head is tucked into the crook of his neck. His tight grip feels more possessive than protective. "Nothing she didn't beg for."

"You can't prove that," you mutter.

Ghost scoffs. "As if anyone here hasn't heard you beg before."

"Come on," Soap says, his hand sliding over your lower back and making you shiver. "What'd you do to make her sound like such a needy wee thing, then? Inquiring minds want tae know."

"She likes to play rough, that's all." Ghost's hand threads through your hair and pulls until you arch against him. "You want to tell them exactly what you asked for?"

You look abashed. Your eyes flick to his for a moment before you look away. "I don't remember."

"I remember." Ghost's voice is deep and rough, practically purring. "You asked for it so nice, too." His hand slides under your chin, making you look up at him. "Thought I'd have to put my hand over your mouth, you liked it so much."

Gaz lets out a low whistle.

"You're so mean,” you mumble.

Ghost grunts. "And yet you still come back for more, don't you. Against Price's rules."

"You're not gonna tell him. Right?"

"I could be convinced."

"Aye, me too." Soap skims his finger slowly down your back. And then your ass. His implication isn't subtle. "Vigorously convinced."

You frown. Then you look at Gaz for help.

Gaz smiles in a way that just betrays how much he's enjoying this. "Me? I've got no problem keeping a secret. Them, on the other hand..."

You try to dart away, but as soon as you're out of Ghost's arms, Soap is upon you. He presses you down into the sand easily. His hand closes around the small of your back like a manacle. "And where do you think you're goin'?"

You huff because you like it when he lets you get away the first time. He likes a little chase, you know he does. But then, you guess he doesn't want to look slow in front of the other sharks.

He grins down at you, all teeth. "You want us to keep quiet, aye?"

Gaz slides over to watch, enjoying the show, the bastard.

You switch up your strategy and instead try to look as helpless and nonthreatening as you can. It comes naturally. "You wouldn't get me in trouble on purpose, would you?"

"Not a chance. Me? I'm such a good boy."

"You're not," Gaz says mildly.

Soap shoots a glare over at him that would make a lesser mer wither. Then he returns his gaze to you. "But you shouldn't rely on the goodwill of others. Didn’t Price teach you that?" He leans in close, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "There's so much fun to be had by gettin' you in trouble. And it's so easy."

You give him a doe-eyed look. "Then I'm so lucky I have you to protect me from nasty mer who would take advantage."

Soap's smile turns a little dangerous at that. You both know perfectly well he's the worst behaved of the bunch.

"I am the best," he agrees. "And I take care of my remora. You know that." His hand on your back starts trailing down to press against the base of your tail. "And you're a very good remora, aren't you?"

"Um. Yes?"

"Except that problem with telling the truth," Ghost points out.

Irritation overtakes your sweet facade for a moment. Still pinned to the sand, you lash your tail and glower at Ghost. "You're gonna get in trouble, too, if Price finds out."

Ghost chuckles. "Give her here, Soap."

Soap frowns at him and lifts you up and over to Ghost's arms.

Ghost tugs and turns you so you're flush against his front, your smaller frame pressed right up against his chest again. "I'm not scared of getting into a bit of trouble when it comes to you."

"Oh?”

"That’s right."

Soap sees the way you relax into Ghost’s scarred arms, and he scowls. "Well, maybe you should be scared.”

Ghost chuckles. "You should keep your mouth shut."

Soap sulks. Ghost is unshakable. He can rile Soap up all day and Soap can't get away with retaliating against Ghost the way he would anyone else.

But before Soap can retort, Ghost turns you around, your back to his chest, and sits you on his lap. Suggestively. Very suggestively, given how he presses and then leisurely rubs himself against you. "Soap wants to know what we did last night. How about we show him?"

You shudder as he bumps up against the base of your fins in that way that makes your mind fog over.

His big hands smooth down your sides. "You remember?" he murmurs in your ear. His eyes fix on the way Gaz and Soap watch. "Last night. Me taking my time, going slow and making you wait for it. You remember that?"

You settle your hands over his as he pets you. "Yeah..."

"Did you like it?" Ghost asks. "Slow and steady... warm and tight..."

You huff. "Too tight, maybe."

Soap makes a strangled noise in his throat.

Ghost brushes his teeth against your ear fin. "You liked it, though. You want more?"

You look back and forth from Soap and Gaz. They look very, very interested in your answer. Gaz is trying to maintain the façade that he’s not bothered, but his body language says he's having a hard time tearing his eyes away. Soap isn't even bothering to try, his blue eyes practically glowing, his gaze raking your curves. Their eyes on you send a thrill deep into your center.

"Well... maybe. If we go slow."

Ghost laughs, his rough voice a warm rumble. He starts a slow exploration of your frame, clawed fingers sliding over all the best parts. "We'll go slow," he promises. "We'll show Soap and Gaz how slow we can go."

...

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 5 days

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53 / 2.7k / Alejandro being a man who knows his own sex appeal (with medic reader)

kinktober keywords: medical kink, healslutting, healing sex (so-called)

...

"Excuse me?"

Alejandro pauses at the door, looking back at you blankly for a moment before repeating himself. "You're with me," he says again, slower this time as if to make sure you've heard him. "We have things to discuss in the medbay."

Typical.

You follow him with your arms stiffly crossed.

He leads you to the medbay in relative silence, pushes open the door once you arrive, and gestures for you to walk inside first.

"Sit."

You don't. "What is there to discuss?"

His voice rasps with irritation. He tries to soften it when he speaks again. "Just sit. I'm not asking again." He nods at the table. "I'm suffering too much tension. You already know how I want to relieve it.”

You stare him down for another long moment. Then you yield--just a little--and push yourself up to sit on the edge of the examination table. "Not advisable with your injuries."

"I'm fine," he says. His gaze drifts to your legs, where your skirt has exposed several tantalizing inches of skin. "I prefer your brand of medicine."

nsfw ⬇

"I know you don't care about your injuries, Colonel, but I do."

"I know. It's your job to care. That's why I'm here. And who better to give me release than you?" He lets his fingers graze your knee and lifts them up along your inner thigh. "I need your help. You're going to be a dutiful doctora for me, aren't you?"

Your heart rises into your throat. That tone of voice. You swallow to ground yourself. How can you keep letting him do this to you? How are you still this weak? You shift, wanting to squeeze your thighs together. But Alejandro steps closer, standing between them.

He runs his hand up your leg, stopping just before his fingers brush the edge of your skirt. "You need to help your commanding officer, don't you?"

"You're hardly my commanding officer.

"Semantics," he purrs. His other palm goes to your inner knee, coaxing your legs to spread apart some more. "You're my medic, are you not?

Pulling rank on you? Does he really want to play that game? "I'm not your anything.”

"You think you're the one who's really in charge here?"

"It's not about who's in charge."

"Oh?" He almost finds your snark amusing. Almost.

"You're injured," you snap.

That makes him laugh. "That's what makes you the perfect one for the job," he tells you, letting his hands drift further up your legs. "You can't walk away from a poor soldier telling you he needs your help, can you? Even if he's being a bad patient. Not that you'd ever bring it up to your superiors. Or mine."

"No, I wouldn't. But I'm not going to help you risk popping your stitches just because you want to get your dick wet."

"Always so blunt, doctora. Always so crass. But I have faith you won't let that happen." His hands on your legs press you back on the table until you're leaning on your hands to support yourself.

He pulls the crux of your legs flush against him. The position forces you to either lean back and spread your legs to ease your weight off him or to let him pull your full weight onto his thigh and straddle it. You swallow, eyes darting down to the way your skirt is riding up. You swore you wouldn't do this again. You leave the base with your team tomorrow. You’ve already gone too far with him too many times. "Alejandro..."

"Mm," he rumbles in response to the way you say his name. He grinds his thigh up against you just to see you clench around his leg.

God damn him. There's nothing worse than a man who knows his own sex appeal.

You grab his collar, pull him forward, and close your lips around his pulse point.

He leans into your touch and braces his hand on the table next to your hip, enjoying the way your teeth graze against his skin. His hands find your hips and pull you flush against him. "That's it," he mutters. "This is what I need. Give it to me."

You push off the table and round on him to shove him against it instead. "Get on your back. You're not in any shape to top."

"So demanding." But he takes a seat on the edge of the table. "I suppose if my doctor says I'm not in any shape to top, I'll listen to her."

"For once."

"For you," he murmurs. He falls back on the table and props himself up on his elbows. He lets his legs part. His eyes drag over your body, wanting to see you naked again. "Show me how you take care of a wounded soldier."

But you don't bother stripping your clothes off--just skim your underwear down your legs and climb up onto the table to hover over him. Your eye falls to the stitches disappearing down the neckline of his shirt and running down his right pectoral. You instinctively check it for inflammation or discoloration, but it's clean. Just fresh and tender.

He watches you go through the motions of checking his stitches. He knows that you wouldn't be coming onto him if you didn't think he could do this. But it’s still irritating how focused you are on the state of his injury rather than letting yourself get carried away with his body in other ways. You leave tomorrow. There might not be a next time.

“You always so thorough, doctora?” he asks, a bit of an edge to his voice. “Or are you just stalling?”

"I'm exactly as thorough as I should be," you snap, grabbing the button and zipper of his pants and undoing them with quick, rough movements. "Regardless of what other rules you have me break."

His eyes darken as you take the initiative, but he can’t deny that he likes watching you get demanding. He lifts his hips to let you tug his pants partway down his thighs.

“You break the rules for me and I'll make sure no one can touch you for it.” His hand snakes up to your hip. “You want this? Go ahead. Take it.”

You let yourself sink down on him and hold in a breath as he fills you. You fight to keep your wits about you and you don't quite succeed.

He lets out a low, guttural moan. One hand grips the edge of the table as if he’s trying to hold onto control of himself, but then he gives up and lets his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. "That's it,” he hisses, letting his head fall back against the table. “So warm.” He rocks his hips upward, pulling you down at the same time as if he can somehow get you any closer than you are.

You flush as he pulls you forward and runs his tongue up the side of your neck. But when he starts to pump his hips against you in earnest, you push yourself up and force him to lay flat on the table again. "I told you to lay here. Don't move or you'll pop your stitches and we'll have to stop."

"Don't threaten me, doctora," he growls. But his hands fall away from your hips. He lays them flat on the table to show that he's not going to move them. "You both know you couldn't stop him if he wanted to take charge.

Still, he does like the way you're sitting on top of him. he'd just like to do something about the fact that you're still fully clothed. "Lose the shirt," he orders.

"No."

His jaw clenches. "Don't push me. You make me lie here at your mercy, and I'm not used to being controlled like that.”

He knows perfectly well that he can't command you to do a single thing. You, as his doctor, are the one calling the shots here. And despite the fact that being ordered around in his own base annoys him more than anything, you're still breaking the rules to ride his cock.

And you're slipping past the point of no return.

You pump up and down slowly, fighting to keep your breath even. You tell yourself this isn't for you, it's for him. As demanding as he is, as much of an ass he can be, this behavior is an expression of frustration. Of need.

But you make the mistake of looking down at him, and your hips stutter at the heat in his eyes.

He watches you with a need you rarely see in a man.

“Dios, doctora," he mutters. He wants you. Needs you. He runs his hands up your thighs, but he doesn’t try to take over. He lets you keep the control. For the time being, you’re the one calling all the shots. But that doesn't mean he'll be nice. "Faster," he mutters, gritting his teeth. “You can do better than that.”

He watches you as you begin to move faster, your breath coming in pants. He keeps his hands on your legs, but otherwise doesn't move. He lets you do the work--lets you take what you want from him. At least until your muscles begin to clench around him.

You bounce faster. You're still convinced you're keeping your head on straight when you jolt and gasp in a sudden fit of pleasure. An orgasm washes over you. You didn't expect it--didn't mean to do it.

A hoarse sound escapes his throat at the sudden tightening. “Fuck,” he gasps, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel so good." The way you jerk in pleasure forces a rough exhale from him. His grip on your hips gets tighter as he fights to keep his hands there, wanting to grab you and push you down in the heat of the moment but restraining himself. “I knew you’d be good to me. You give in just as good as you put out.”

You pant wordlessly. You still for a moment, shuddering in the pleasurable aftershocks. But then a clatter in the next room reminds you there's no time to waste. You get to moving your hips again, sluggish but dogged, to give the colonel the release he needs.

"That's it. Just keep going," he says. His voice is thick with desire, his body tensing as he approaches his own peak. "No te pares," he gasps. "Please, don't stop. Just keep going. I'm close." He's not used to begging, but he can admit to himself that he needs this, and he needs you.

You do as he says, slamming your hips down onto his over and over to jar him loose. The pace is brutal and that’s how he needs it. This is his medicine. He lets out a string of unintelligible Spanish at your pace, his hands squeezing your hips as the fire in his lower abdomen burns hot. He grits his teeth and locks his eyes on yours.

“Madre del Dios, you’re going to kill me,” he mutters. “You’re going to have me bleeding all over again.”

"Don't you dare," you growl. You keep a sharp eye on his stitches to watch for signs of strain.

Alejandro is too far gone to notice. “Or what, doctora?” he asks. He reaches up and hooks two fingers into the neckline of your shirt. The weight of his arm alone threatens to pop the button wide open. “Are you going to punish me?”

You grit your teeth and let him open up your uniform top to see your body as you bounce. You even help him along with undoing the buttons. To shut him up, you tell yourself.

He falls silent. His eyes fix on your chest, on every square inch of skin. "Oh, you are beautiful." He's rapt at the way your body moves. "Teasing me like that. Teasing a wounded man."

Wounded, your ass.

You keep it up, knowing he's close. But before you can stop him, he pulls you against him again, teeth at your chest, pulling a cry of protest out of you at the sharp pain. His hips buck hard. You struggle a little, but you let him pull you close, letting him nip and bite at your skin. He wants to mark you as his, even if you’re only his to own for the moment.

“Take it,” he growls, his voice rough.

"Alejandro-!"

He lets out a guttural, feral moan as his climax washes over him.

He rocks your hips together slowly, riding the waves of his release. He doesn’t let go of you, even though it’s over. You shiver, unable to do anything but let him move your hips for you. He just needs this a bit longer.

Finally, he releases you and lets his head fall back against the table. His eyes flutter closed. His teeth leave indents in your skin. Nothing major, but there will be marks all over you that will be there for a while. Proof of what you've done here with him.

“You wear me out.”

"Good. You need more rest," you mutter, easing off him.

He lets out a huff of almost-laughter. He lets you sit back on the table next to him and swipes a sweat-damp lock of hair out of his face.

“I have to admit… you’ve got an interesting bedside manner,“ he says.

"And you are the worst patient I've had the displeasure of encountering on this base. That's a high fucking bar, too."

“I never liked to stay still for the doctor.” He props himself up on the table on his elbows and looks over at you. “You’ll have worse patients in the States, surely.”

You stand up gingerly, testing your shaky legs before you walk. "You need to watch yourself. No drills. No resistance training. Only physical therapy. You got that? If you tear your stitches again, there will be hell to pay."

“I can handle it,” he insists, a note of irritation creeping into his voice now that you’ve turned the topic to his injury again. “I won’t tear any stitches, I’ve done this before. I’m plenty tough. I can handle a drill or two.”

You round on him and jab your finger into his chest. "No. No drills or else. I'll ban you from training altogether if I have to."

"You’ll ban me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Try it. I'd like to see you try to keep me in bed with your panties on."

"It won't be me. It'll be Rodolpho. He's just as worried about you."

That gets him. He knows damn well that every other Vaquero wants him to heal up. "Fine. No drills. But only because I don't want to spend the next few weeks with those pendejos lecturing me. They're a bigger pain in the ass than you are."

You scoff and turn away. "You were singing a very different song a minute ago."

"And then you start going all doctor on me.”

"Yeah, well. You've clearly demonstrated you're capable of taking orders when it suits you. You're just choosing not to."

The corner of his lips curve in a smug little smirk. “I take orders I'm willing to follow,” he says. “I don’t do well with people telling me what to do. You just have a way of making me forget that.”

Of course. He'll let you get away with ordering him around when he feels like it. And when he's not in the mood, it's a hell of a time getting him to listen to you. Typical.

"Do whatever you want, then," you tell him, buttoning up your uniform. "But don't come crying to the next medic when you bust a stitch. If you're so self-reliant, if you know everything, then you fix yourself."

"Oh, I will, doctora." He lets out a little huff as you leave the room, rolling his eyes. Of course you’d get pissed at him, just like that. He doesn’t bother to call you back and apologize. He’s not the sorry type. Not even if this is the last time he sees you go and it's you going off in a huff.

As a matter of principle, he won't give you the satisfaction of crawling back.

But you’ll still come around. You always do.

...

more Alejandro / masterlist

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 8 days

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Hi, I just wanted to say that I love your fanfics. I've struggled with reading and writing but your fanfics have made me want to get better and reading and writing more.

I really enjoyed your mer aus are so interesting and it makes inspired to learn more of the waters and marine life. With that being said I learned today that Sharks are testing positive for cocaine in Brazillian sharpnosed sharks

Thank you for your time and I hope you have a nice day!

wow this is amazing to hear! thank you so much, i hope you hit your stride with reading and writing soon!! hey wait what was that last thing

... huh

#ask #mer au #mermay #that picture has me on my hands and knees dude #the news source really said “bring me pictures of the most wired motherfucking shark you can find” and by god did someone deliver

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 10 days

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IT IS P E R F E C T

baking a pie/cookies/sweet pastries for the boys!!! maybe even extra decorated or heart shaped!!! or wonky failures!!!

52 / 246 words / what i thought of lol

...

"Baked an absolute dogshit cake."

You rant and rave, bustling around with paper plates. Behind you, Ghost and Price stand where you've told them and wait to be served.

"Just completely fucked up. I can't believe I forgot the--" You turn around and see Ghost with his pointer finger conspicuously in his mouth, staring straight ahead into the middle distance. Price clears his throat. Then you notice the obvious smear right through the cake's lumpy frosting.

"Simon."

"Mm." Mumbled around finger still in mouth.

"Did you even see what I wrote on it?"

"Hm." He runs his tongue along the front of his teeth and cleans his hands matter-of-factly with a napkin. It does not help him save face. "Course I did."

"It's crooked. And I forgot to add butter. Do you even care? Did you even notice?"

"Course I didn't." He lifts the two plates and forks out of your hands, kisses your frown, and sets to work cutting himself an enormous slice. Price doesn't even bother with a knife, just scoops in with a spoon.

You grumble. But yeah, they probably couldn't give two shits about how it looks. They're guys, right? Don't they rarely notice that stuff? "I guess that's for the best--"

"You misspelled 'Task Force,' though," Price observes. He gestures down at what's left of the message--don't die --- 141, with a crooked smiley face at the end--written in frosting with the misspelled portion now smudged. "Not a word on the whole cake more than five letters and you almost got 'em all right. Impressive."

"Thanks a lot."

...

more Ghost / masterlist

#lays down facedown on the floor because #DUDE....#gotta say you absolutely nailed the expressions #ghost's distant dead-eyed middle-distanced stare #price's almost-amused-mostly-disappointed-and-not-at-all-shocked face #just offscreen: reader attempting to be unruffled about it all; failing #idk what possessed you to draw this but i owe you my life #thank you #art #illusivedelights

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 11 days

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assorted mer au asks 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

@lordspiders epaulette sharks are so cute!!

youtube

this thing is just a little?? just a little dude. and sharp-dressed to boot. imagine being scared of sharks and this thing just scoots up and sits in your lap. apparently they make good pets as far as sharks go? and they're harmless except that they nip their captors sometimes? that's cute as hell?? i want to get nipped.

the shark mer 141 don't have canonical species because honestly reader-insert fiction is all about letting people imprint whatever look they want onto these shark boys. but now with other characters being discussed via what species of sharks fit or make for interesting storytelling, maybe we'd get more mileage out of specifics. but there are so many sharks. there are so many sharks, boss, you know it. you get it.

on the other hand--in my mind, the shark 141 are mammals who mimic a given species of shark. which gives me some writing flexibility (huehuehue) as well as giving the mer themselves a little saucy mysterious-eldritch-creatures-in-the-depths energy. the exact method of reproduction depends on what kinky stuff we're all into at the time; so like, i don't think of remora reader as having two uteri today, but if that becomes useful and interesting in the future, who knows?

but they do live in a reef! they are reef-dwellers. that's a fact.

in my mind, Captain MacTavish (circa 2009) is floating around somewhere in the arctic, though.

yes, remora reader is a mammal! see the answer above, but whether or not internal fertilization or eggs are involved is subject to how kinky we're all feeling at the time.

i am not terribly interested in writing about pregnancy so i apologize if that's more along the lines of what you were looking for. other than maybe very early pregnancy and/or suspicion of pregnancy. comfort fic is comfort fic after all :)

no worries! see this post (excerpt below) and this picture :)

remora reader is much smaller. maybe it's not as extreme a size difference as a remora and its host in real life, but similar principle--the host is built like a murdertank, and the remora is pocket-sized for easy transport. in my mind, remora reader is maybe half the size of her hosts. could range from 2/3s to 1/3 as long. also, it's not that they're super tall and she's short. she is proportionally built smaller. i see something like this or this.

you take that fact and put it back. put it back where you found it right now >:(

#mer au #cod au #mine #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #tf 141 x reader #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ask #tf 141

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 11 days

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here's over 1.8K prompts of all sorts you can use for your writing ideas!

happy writing!

#ref

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 11 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/gihtw-writingdesk/761549522958794752?source=share

In case no one else has sent you that :)

this is good stuff, thank you!! pulling a few of these prompts to use later under the cut:

“I surrender, okay?”

“I’m going to take my time killing you.”

“You’re mine regardless how you feel about it.”

"You don't know what I'm capable of."

"I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want."

"You think you know me, but you have no idea."

"I don't care about anyone else's feelings but my own."

"The world is cruel, and I'm just playing by its rules."

"I don't want to hear another word from you until you sincerely apologize."

"You think you're so clever, but you're just making things worse for everyone."

"I trusted you to do this one thing, and you couldn't even do that right."

“Getting married to you was the worst decision of my life.”

“How are you still alive?”

“Keep shaking… it’s getting me aroused.”

“Can’t we just talk about it?”

“What are you hiding from me?”

“But we’ve met before.”

“Why does everything have to be a struggle with you?”

“I don’t think you wanna fuck with me.”

“I need you to want me too, not the other way around.”

“Why are you mad at me?”

"If you loved me, you’d do this."

"You’re so lucky to have me."

"Remember all those times I helped you?"

“I’d rather freeze to death, thanks.”

“He broke up with me over text.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“You better run before I kill you.”

“Why are you so clingy?”

“We can’t keep talking. This isn’t healthy.”

“Not now. Not even in a million years. I would ever think to give you another chance.”

“Isn’t it messed up how I’m just dying to be him/her/them?”

"You've made a fool out of me, and I'm not going to forget it anytime soon."

"I trusted you with everything, and you let me down in the worst possible way."

“I’m going to kill you slowly and painfully.”

“How does he make you feel?”

"I'm not interested in your opinions or feelings, only your obedience."

"I hope you’re happy with your choices."

"After all the sacrifices I’ve made."

"You don’t appreciate anything I do."

"Look what you’re doing to us."

“I don’t care what you think.”

"Your arrogance and your ignorance are a dangerous combination."

"You've made a complete mess of everything and expect me to clean it up for you?!"

"I have had it up to here with your behavior!"

“This lifestyle isn’t for the faint of heart, darling.”

“You’ve been shot! Don’t tell me to calm down!”

“Is this more than you bargained for, huh?”

“Who the fuck are you to be insulting me in this way?”

“Where did all this blood come from?”

“Why are you interrupting me in a business meeting?”

“Do you need me to kill someone for you?”

“You better not miss; because if you do, you’ll regret it.”

"Don’t question my decisions."

"You have to ask my permission first."

“Do you enjoy killing people? Is it fun to you?”

“Do you really think it would be wise to get on my bad side?”

“You deliberately disobeyed me.”

“I should thank you…but it’d be more fun to kill you.”

“You should learn to control your temper.”

“Did you really assume you could lie to me and survive?”

“You don’t own me.”

“If I get my hands on you, you’re dead.”

“I can stay the night, y’know. if it’d make you feel better.”

“You should’ve told me this was going on. I would’ve put a stop to it the second I heard about it.”

“no one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? no one.”

“Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or I will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. you know I’ll have no problem with either option.”

“This place is dicey at the best of times. just take my hand until we’re clear of it, yeah?”

“Anyone touches you, says anything to you, so much as looks at you the wrong way- you come get me, and I’ll set them straight. understand?”

“I’m not jealous. I just know the intentions that someone like that has for you, even if you claim not to see them yourself.”

“Why did you kidnap me?”

“Do you lay eggs?”

“You’re nothing but a murderous beast!”

“So you’re not afraid of me?”

“What do you taste like?”

“I can smell the blood on you.”

“Quit it or I’ll bite.”

“Let me taste you again."

"Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?"

“Why are you dressed as a witch?”

“No prayers for the heartless.”

“Do you want to come with me to shower?”

"Why do you always insist on seeing the worst in people?"

“Put me down – okay, okay, fine fine! You win.”

“I don’t deserve you.” “Yes, you do.”

“I’m not moody, I’m thinking. Don’t interrupt.”

"You're not going to like what I have to ask of you."

#ref #prompt #prompts #ask #godihatethiswebsite

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 12 days

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baking a pie/cookies/sweet pastries for the boys!!! maybe even extra decorated or heart shaped!!! or wonky failures!!!

52 / 246 words / what i thought of lol

...

"Baked an absolute dogshit cake."

You rant and rave, bustling around with paper plates. Behind you, Ghost and Price stand where you've told them and wait to be served.

"Simon."

"Mm." Mumbled around finger still in mouth.

"Did you even see what I wrote on it?"

"Hm." He runs his tongue along the front of his teeth and cleans his hands matter-of-factly with a napkin. It does not help him save face. "Course I did."

"It's crooked. And I forgot to add butter. Do you even care? Did you even notice?"

You grumble. But yeah, they probably couldn't give two shits about how it looks. They're guys, right? Don't they rarely notice that stuff? "I guess that's for the best--"

"Thanks a lot."

...

more Ghost / masterlist

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 13 days

Text

would y'all be willing to send me starters/dialogue prompts?

stuff like this :)

#i'll try anything once #just looking for help and structure #gotta write stuff and i have requests in my inbox but i'm having a harder time getting started without direct prompts at the moment yk #bc i'm off my adhd meds so!#maybe i can double up some prompts with some of the requests too #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #tf 141 x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 18 days

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Hi I’m the one who left the egg ask! I genuinely had no idea what an ovipo kink was I was just wondering if babies were a possibility 😭😭😭

(Maybe that’s still apart of that but I don’t really understand it.)

That’s all Bai bai 🎀

oh no worries! the post in question.

trust me… communication is poor. the mer 141 have not talked about it and believe a range of things:

babies aren't possible because you're a different "species" (Ghost)

babies are possible and would be considered and planned for--extensively; they have the resources--were that possibility to become a certainty (Price)

babies are probable and come with the desirable side effect of baby-trapping you via laying an obvious physical claim (Gaz)

or he's so driven by his libido anyway that the idea of you not eventually getting knocked up is inconceivable; just try harder and believe in yourself (Soap).

more mer au / more Price / masterlist

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 19 days

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I'm really thinking about that one Ghost post you wrote about him basically making himself at home at the reader's place when she found him near dead in the woods and it still is scratching my brain all right 😭 him devoting his life to her and the fact her husband is there completely upset about this all is the perfect drama.

the thing i love most about this is that i never mentioned ghost by name in that post <3 not once <3 but you're right. it is so, so ghost-coded. ghoded, if you will.

you're the hands in which he rests, a weapon; submissive in the way (as was once said) a sheep-guarding hound is submissive to the livestock it protects.

so mismatched is his demeanor with yours--harsh and scarred--and that it frightens the townspeople around you. and your guards.

when you do get hurt, they jump at the chance to accuse Ghost of hurting you. no matter how you insist you're fine and demand the townsfolk see reason--you witnessed the attack, for god's sake! not to mention your wound is shallow and looks much worse than it is. but the guards lock him up in the small dungeon under your family's estate.

at your direction, Simon doesn't fight his captors. you both know, for all his strength, he'll be killed if the guards see their chance to take his life. they've never trusted him.

and so he's hauled off, chained up like a dog, lying in wait for his sheep.

when you return to see him, having pushed through those who insisted you stay away, that he's dangerous, that he hurt you--only then does Simon strain against those chains. he wants to be at your side. he's driven half out of his mind with worry that the assassin who hurt you might come back and finish the job without him there to protect you.

he'd pull the chain bolts clean out of the rotting brick to get back to you if not for the guarantee you'd be kept from him if he did. although it's not by your choice.

he's even willing to confess to crimes he never committed, would never commit, if it meant being in your debt, imprisoned in your home, back by your side.

you stay with him as long as you can. his arms are locked behind him and he rests on his knees, more animal than man, as he presses his face against your waist. his desperation abates once you take his face in your hands to comfort him. he's lightheaded.

you assure him you'll be back, that you'll figure this out and get him home and out of those chains soon. he strains against the chains again as you pull away.

it's not until there's a second attempt on your life that he's vindicated.

the only story anyone knows is that when you screamed, by the time your guards made it up to your bedchamber, the blood from your attacker's corpse was already soaking into your rug. one of them tried and failed to coax the bloody dagger out of your shaking hands. your palms were clean.

you tell the guards this was the man who attacked you before. you tell them to bury him and not speak of this again; to leave your chamber for you to clean.

once they're gone, Simon emerges from the shadows, hands bloody, to disentangle your hands (white knuckled) from the dagger, to usher you into the wash basin. you see the iron cuffs on his wrists, chains snapped off, and say nothing.

nobody is ever quite sure who released him. just as nobody is sure who the assassin worked for.

strangely, your husband seems to avoid you after that.

;)

more Ghost / masterlist

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 26 days

Text

51 / 600 words / mer!Price likes what he likes.

...

Price doesn't have to learn how to use praise to coax you into doing what he wants. He already made you his.

He's a shark. sharp teeth, rough skin, instincts leading him to intimidate anything approaching his size and threat. But for you, his best weapon is his tongue. A soft, low voice. Firm hands. A word of praise and a scratch under the chin is enough to bring you to his side again and again.

He smirks at the way you stretch up his claws at the nice scritching feeling.

"Good girl," he says. It's incredible how easily you go from being fussy and busy to so, so pliable. You're the only thing in this reef he doesn't need to exert any force to tame.

He slides his hand up to the underside of your jaw, lifting your head to expose your throat.

"Who does this pretty neck belong to, pet?" he asks.

"Hmmm?"

"Tell me," he commands, patience thinning. He uses that commanding tone that triggers your deep-seated instincts to obey. And he tightens his grip in warning. “Use your words.”

"You," you say. You wrap your hands around his larger one as sweetly as you can and rub your cheek against the hand holding you. "All yours."

"That's right." His to command and control as he sees fit; his to care for and use as he pleases.

He tilts your head up to make you look at him better. "And who else gets to touch you like this?" he asks.

"You," you tell him. You don't mention Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. They're allowed to touch you, but you know it's because they belong to Price, too.

He notices the omission of the others, noting to himself later to make time to mark you properly. But he hums in satisfaction and runs his thumb over your lower lip. "Where do these pretty little lips belong?" he asks.

You give him a blank, doe-eyed stare.

"Playing dumb?" He gently pinches your lower lip between his fingers and wiggles slightly. "Such a soft mouth... Surely it has some use."

You tilt your head as if puzzled.

Price's eye twitches, but it makes you look so stupid that he lets it slide. He could easily just take you now to fulfill his own selfish needs, but he's more attracted to the allure of a steady, controlled descent into submission. He wants your sweet little brain primed and ready to do what he says--no playing, no resistance. Only service.

"Your lips are for more than giving me little pouts and smartass remarks." He uses both hands to grip the soft, yielding muscle of your jaws, cupping your face to draw you closer to him. "Let me see those pretty teeth of yours again," he instructs.

You open your mouth.

He makes a sound in his throat as he runs his thumbs over your bottom teeth, gently coaxing you to open wider. "Such a cute mouth, and all it does is give me trouble," he mutters.

He watches your eyes slide shut and smiles indulgently. Your teeth gently nip on the tip of his thumb. He huffs in amusement.

"There's something else it could be doing to be useful, don't you think?"

You straighten up, but your eyes still lull half-lidded. "Mm, okay. What do I do?"

He smiles at the way your gaze wanders from his eyes down to his mouth before darting back up. It's endearing to see just how easily you fall into the role he's preparing for you.

"We'll start with something simple. I want you to show me exactly what you're supposed to do. What you were meant to be used for." He guides you closer to him. "Come here."

...

more mer au / more Price / masterlist

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