#and the only way he knows how is to completely shut down soap’s mind until hes no more than instinct and muscle memory

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Twelve: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, domesticity kink, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, semi-public, bondage, blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking, squirting, cumming untouched, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, murder/blood/gore/drugs(referenced), knife, GEN. SMUT[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is so full of himself that he’s somehow tricked himself into a bit of emotional maturity, Anakin has blooming bromance, post murder sex spree [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Date

August 27th continued.

Anakin climbed through his living room window and shut it behind him, happily humming to himself as he shut and locked it behind him. He spread out two trash bags on the floor after rolling up the rug to get it out of his way.

Armed with a pair of scissors and a few gallon ziploc bags he went to work on the clothes he’d been wearing. Thankfully, he had enough sense to buy jeans and a hoodie from the Goodwill. He can’t fuck you in the clothes he killed a man in, that’s just gross. So he chopped up the fabric in little squares while watching an episode of Narcos for the irony of it.

He planned to drive around the city tomorrow and dump the remnants of his clothes down every sewer grate he could. He already said goodbye to his third favorite butterfly knife, having shoved it into a culvert on his way home. As well as his throwaway sneakers which he chucked into the murky water of the deep river that flowed beneath the bridge he trekked across to get home- the long way.

Anakin was a good citizen, he knew he couldn’t flush the drugs. He couldn’t dispose of them in the trash, he definitely couldn’t keep them, so he did what every responsible person would do: dumped them in the medical wastes slot at the CVS.

The cash on the other hand… over $2,000. That- that he could definitely keep.

With his mind cleared, soiled clothes squared away, and plan in place; he hit the shower and reveled in the faint metallic scent of blood that trickled down the drain. Mentally adding ‘new loofah’ to his to-do list, he scrubbed away at his skin with dawn dishsoap until he felt like his skin was screaming for him to stop. Then he used his favorite smell-good cedar soap, enjoying the steam of the scalding water pelting his back as he rinsed himself clean.

Diary Entry: August 28th

I feel GOOD. I feel better, I feel fresh.

My worries went down the drain along with every scrap of evidence I created. Have you ever felt such a clear and palpable mental reset? I haven’t.

I haven’t had a single negative thought since my visit with Joel. It’s all been rainbows and shittin’ unicorns, I know what it’s like to live completely carefree now. I could go the rest of my life and suffer through whatever disaster life throws our way and do it with a fucking smile.

Gods I just love you. I love you so much.

You’re perfect. I don’t know how the hell you do it princess but you’ve found every possible way to improve my life and you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time! It’s like you know exactly what I need without ever speaking it aloud. You just let the pieces fall into place.

It was your idea to DoorDash the pizza, your choice to wear that slutty pajama set I love so much, your sunshiny predisposition that drew his attention and the bangin’ body that held it. Without that, all of it, I’d still be wallowing in the throes of despair at my untimely death via withering away.

But here I am, having a damn good day!

The only thing that would make it better is me fucking you like a jackrabbit on his third 5hr Energy. However, I love you and as much as I’d like to fuck you within an inch of your life, I will not. I have a hand that works perfectly fine and a plethora of porn starring you that I can drool over until I’ve sated myself enough to act like a semi-normal human.

How will I broach the subject of my unrequited love today? I don’t know. Am I worried about it? Hell no. I have faith in my goddess to deliver what I’m worthy of.

How will I look you in the eye after my late night escapade? With a fucking smile.

Date

August 28th

You traded texts back and forth with Anakin all morning. Something had crawled under his skin and bit him with venomous lust, he’d sent you pretty pictures of his weeping cock, cum dribbling out and down the back of his hand. He’d texted, described in delicate detail what he’d like to do to you with the most vile and disgusting words to caress that sick little minx that lived inside your stomach.

He had you clenching around nothing, gushing slick behind the counter at the diner. Blushing deep, dusty rose petal red across your cheeks and creeping up under your shirt collar. You felt hot, your hands sweaty and mind flustered beyond belief. You hadn’t felt this sexually frustrated since Ghost had stopped torturing you in your sleep.

You were nervous and bashful around customers as if they could see straight through your polite voice and put together appearance. Underneath the confidence that you reserved for waiting tables was a deprived and thoroughly soaked cunt that controlled your every waking thought.

“Princess?” Anakin’s deep gravelly bedroom voice floated over the Formica countertop and wrapped you up in a warm embrace.

You looked up and saw the face of a desperate man. His pretty blue eyes had been completely swallowed up by his lust… love blown pupils. His normally calming cloud of energy was replaced by a jittery, buzzing storm of bottled up euphoria. He couldn’t wait to pop the cork and share it with you.

“Vigo?” Anakin’s voice cracked, his smile only growing bigger when your coworker popped his head around the kitchen door frame. “I’m stealing her.”

“Hey, you gotta clock out!” He shouted after you as Anakin gripped your wrist and whisked you out to his car. Vigo was already on his way to the time cards, punching it in for you to save himself the worry of you forgetting.

“Anakin what’s gotten into you?” You panted, trying to catch your breath while Anakin licked into your mouth and sucked the tip of your tongue. Kissing you as messily as he could short of drowning you via spit swap.

“Woke up missing you.” He groaned, nuzzling your breasts. His nose nudging the valley while he rubbed his cheeks against the swell, pushing them together with his splayed hands.

“Can’t help it.” He breathed out, biting your sensitive flesh through the fabric of your shirt.

“Ani.” You moaned, tugging his head away gently. “You already gave me a massive hickey.” He chuckled as you reminded him of the purplish bruise you’d attempted to cover with makeup.

“True.” He nodded, nipping you again anyway. “You could stand to have a few more though.”

“Shit, not now.” You shook your head and bucked up your hips, wiggling out of your jeans.

“Damn, that’s what I like to see sweetheart.” Anakin growled, smacking your ass lightly as he laid down in the back seat. “C’mere baby let me see my pussy.”

You giggled, complying and gingerly hovering over his mouth only to earn a frustrated groan from him.

“Goddamnit. I-I’ve never seen you this wet.” His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked up at you, his enlarged pupils snapping a mental picture of how beautiful you were from your position above him where you belonged.

Both hands suddenly gripped your hips and pulled you down on top of his face. He held on tightly, keeping you in place despite your concerns of suffocating him.

“Don’t care.” He moaned, thrusting his tongue up and swirling it around inside your entrance, the bridge of his nose rubbing your clit as he guided your hips to ride his face. “I’d be dying the happiest man on earth.”

“Oh my god.” You sucked in a sharp inhale, your palm smacking the headrest while your fingers hurt from the force of your grip on it.

“Mhmmmm.” You could feel his smug grin beneath you, even in this position he was able to establish dominance with just that crooked smirk and hard look to his eyes.

“Anakin…” moaning, you reached down to play with his hair, his mouth pulling your clit between his teeth to suck harshly, flicking his tongue at a fast pace in hopes to bring you to orgasm quickly. “Anakin please… s-slow.”

“Uh uh.” He shook his head with a chuckle, digging his fingertips into the fat of your ass.

“My pussy… my rules.” He mumbled, the words muffled and nearly incoherent.

He slurped and sucked, dragging his tongue in long stripes up your center, dipping the tip into your hole each time it passed over. He’d never eaten you so desperately, never had he sent you spiraling into orgasm this quickly. Heat traveled from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears, your hole quivering around his tongue darting in to lick up your cum.

“Ani- Anakin enough.” You whined, trying to get up but he just brought you back down and laved at you with just as much fervor.

“Please no… hurts.” You hiccuped, sensitive beyond belief and not ready for more in the slightest.

“Shhhh.” Anakin laughed, nibbling on your clit carefully, he slipped one hand beneath you, palm side up.

He tapped your hip and let you raise up for a moment to catch your breath, lasting less than a few seconds before he was one-armed manhandling you back over his face.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers while I watch baby.” He whispered, stroking your folds gently before prodding at your entrance.

“Oh sweet lord-“ he moaned loudly, watching your greedy pussy sink down on his fingers from below, your hole fluttering around the two digits.

“You’re so wet.” He whimpered, gazing up at you like you’d hung the moon just for him.

“All this for me?” He asked softly, as if he weren’t really sure what your answer would be.

“All for you Ani.” You nodded, brushing your knuckles across his cheek while he started pumping his finger inside slowly, stretching you out to take a third.

“Jesus, I don’t know what I wanna do.” He groaned, “I wish I could touch you all over all at once.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up for you to see the fruits of his labor, the creamy slick coated his fingers, stringing them together when he pulled them apart. He barely grazed your bottom lip with it before sucking it hungrily from his fingers.

“Goddamnit.” He moaned, pulling you back down with such force that you lost your balance and accidentally unlocked the car door, you giggled and quickly corrected your mistake, Anakin chiding you from below.

“Clumsy little brat.” He grinned, kneading your ass cheeks roughly.

His tone might’ve been playful but the look in his eyes was nothing short of predatory. He lapped at your glistening folds with the enthusiasm of a wildcat on a fresh kill, by the end of it he’d be sucking the bones dry.

Anakin hummed at the taste of you, groaning, babbling nonsense more to your cunt than to you:

“Tastes so good.”

“So pink and pretty for me.”

“Poor pussy just missed me so much huh? Is that why she’s crying?”

He switched up suddenly and had you frozen in place, your jaw dropped open as you let out a choked sob, tilting your head back to look at the car’s ceiling. He’d bit down on your raw and sore clit, peeling back the hood to tortuously bully it with kitten licks all while sucking as hard as he possibly could. It was too much, so much, all at once.

You were already so sensitive, you had already begged him to stop, now you had no words left, just pitiful whimpers as you bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Your legs quivered uncontrollably as goosebumps pricked your flesh, every hair standing on end as Anakin literally sucked you dry as you’d jokingly predicted.

He drew out a long and reedy noise from the depths of your chest, clawing it’s way through the fire in your lungs and past the torn skin on your lip. Creamy cum gushed from your core, coating his chin and neck.

The main course, what he was really after, was the hot juices that dribbled down the back of his throat as he sucked the nectar straight from the source. You would’ve worried you might drown him if you couldn’t visibly see his heavy breathing, feel and hear each desperate swallow and whimper. You could feel his stomach tensing along with his arms, his hands followed and closed into fists.

Turning his head to the side he bit down on your inner thigh, causing you to jolt and yelp, almost missing the way one of his hands flew to his crotch and squeezed his thick cock through his jeans, running his thumb over the fat, swollen tip as a small and sticky dark patch bloomed on his upper thigh.

“N-no no.” He whined, bringing you back down to his face, he carefully avoided your abused clit in favor of cleaning up your thighs and messy cunt, digging out every last drop of slick with his tongue.

“You… you are so fucking hot.” He panted, whimpering in pain when he sat up repositioned his cock.

“Did you-“

“Cum? Yeah.” He nodded sheepishly, stroking himself in his jeans for a moment before removing his hand and showing you the mess he’d made in his jeans.

“No way.” You whispered, a triumphant grin spreading across your lips.

“Yes.” He growled, shoving his hand between your thighs to wipe his cum off onto your spent pussy. “I don’t think you understand what you do to me sweetheart.”

“I’d pay good money to find a way to live inside your skin with you. Just to be close as I could get.” He said quietly, helping you back into your panties and jeans, wiping the excess cum onto the inside of his tshirt.

“I’d sell my soul just to breathe the same air as you if that’s what it took.” He said, pulling you into his lap and crushing you in a hug.

“You are like a Ghost that haunts every corner of my mind.” He whispered, licking the makeup off of your poorly hidden hickey.

Anakin didn’t miss the way you breathed in a sharp breath at his words it took a lot of willpower not to smile against your neck when he heard you audibly swallow with nervousness.

“I wake up and I think of you. I go to sleep and I dream of you.” His rough palms caressing the soft skin of your stomach. “Everything I see, everything I do, it all reminds me of you.”

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” He said softly. “You’d never doubt yourself again.” His lips grazing your earlobe as he twirled a lock of hair around his finger, breaking the heavy tension by cracking a smile and tickling the tip of your nose with your hair.

He gently cupped your cheeks and brushed the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks and under your eyes. Staring at you with those unwavering black saucers in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he’d done drugs. It’s unnatural for a human’s eyes to stay dilated for this long. But you knew Anakin, he was just high on you.

Diary Entry: August 28th continued

I have so much energy and I don’t know what to do with it all. I might try bench pressing a school bus, I could probably make it move alittle. If I didn’t give myself a hernia first.

What I really need is more of you. I thought a little sweet treat might tithe me over but I was WRONG. I’m feeling a new kind of insatiable.

It’s time for Ghost to get back to his old tricks with a new accessory: my rarely worn tongue stud.

Man I love it though, it clacks against my teeth so good. I can hear it in my brain for like, minutes after I’ve done it. Such a satisfying sound. Its crisp.

Which is unfortunately the reason why I can’t wear it often anymore.

I click clacked it around my bottom row of teeth too much and the dentist made me promise not to do it anymore. Turns out abstinence is actually the best method when it comes to prevention. If it’s not in my mouth I can’t fuck up my teeth, but I can play with my lip piercings. Yeehaw I love a loophole.

Anywho. I feasted on my favorite meal today and I desperately need more before I actually go insane. I need to taste you. I need to feel you. I need to fuck you til I lose consciousness.

I want you to be awake though because as hot as it is to watch you cum in your sleep, it’s even hotter to see you reacting to the things I say. Deny it all you want baby but you’re my whore.

Ghost, Anakin, both. You’re willing to do anything for my cock.

Date

August 28th continued.

Anakin can’t keep his hands to himself. It’s like he’s been corrupted by an incubus, he’s turned into an insatiable beast that just can’t stop. You’ve seriously considered the possibility that he may have somehow gotten his hands on some ecstasy and a suped up gas station boner pill.

Though logically you know exactly what is happening. He’s just giddy and feeling a weight lifted from his chest after confessing to you. It makes perfect sense. Carrying a secret like that is a burden, you know that very well by now.

Anakin is purely running off adrenaline fumes and endorphins. He’s burning it off the best way possible, by touching you in every direction, position, time, space and dimension that he can put you in.

He’s fucked you twice after taking you home from work today. Kitchen counter? From the back with your legs dangling helplessly, your sweaty skin sticking to the countertop. Coffee table? He pushed you down on it, swiping off the scattered items on it, including the freshly made sandwich and chips you’d brought him. He had said ’F-fuck… you’re just so sexy when you’re domestic.’

Right now on your third go around, he had finally, finally agreed to take you to the bed after you’d formed a triangle shaped bruise from the corner on the kitchen counter.

“M’sorry baby,” He whispered, licking away the dull pain on your hip from between your legs. “didn’t mean to.”

“I know Ani,” you breathed out, “it’s not your fault.”

“It is.” He nodded, pulling you toward the edge of the bed and gently helping you onto you hands and knees. “My poor girl.”

“You’re just so pretty. You’re so perfect. You’re so… you.” He sighed, standing behind and to the side of you to caress your injured hip.

His rough palm glided over the hot, sticky skin of your spine to brush your hair away. His free hand slowly tracing a delicate pattern across the plumped flesh of your ass, all five digits teasing the skin with tingling trails of warmth.

His lips caressed your tender skin up and down your side while he lovingly slipped a finger between your pussy lips. He groaned and made a fist between your shoulder blades to keep control of himself, your wetness feeding his need to be sheathed inside your warm and welcoming cunt.

“Pretty, pretty baby.” He whispered, his voice cracking while he brought his burning hot cheek down to rest against the swell of your ass, toying with his lip piercings to stifle a moan at the sloppy noises his pointer finger made on its descent into your depths.

“You’ve been so good for me.” He praised you, massaging your shoulder with one hand, kissing your ass cheek as he turned his head and rested the other side of his blushed face there, switching sides to watch your expressions change with each plunge of his finger.

“My little girl…” he growled, low and deep in his throat, “letting me take what I need.”

“Just wanted you to feel good Ani.” You sighed, gratefully accepting a second finger from him, feeling him twist his wrist back and forth with each slow thrust.

“Mmm, I did sweetheart.” He chuckled, “trust me, it’s hard to feel anything but heavenly when I’ve got my hands on you.”

“You’ve been so needy.” You whined, letting him guide your hand to your clit so you could rub yourself at your own pace along with his languid fingers.

“I know.” He clicked his tongue. “Are you okay sweetheart?”

“Course I’m okay.” You moaned, leaning back against his hand while his fingertips pressed and massaged your inner core.

“I put your poor little body through a lot today huh?” He cooed, switching his free hand over to your other shoulder to massage it the same as the other.

He smiled widely as he watched your face relax and felt your breathing slow into a steady rhythm. He felt proud. Proud of you, of himself, of his self control.

“Felt good Ani.” You whispered, your fingers tightening around the sheets in your fist while you rocked back onto his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers. “I needed it too.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled, hearing the content sigh escape your lips. “You think you can cum for me again baby?” He asked softly, kissing the small of your back.

“N-no.” You whimpered, shying away from his gentle probing fingers.

“You sure sweetheart?” He asked, slowing his movements even further. “It’s okay baby, I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.”

“M’sure.” You shook your head rapidly, “I can’t.”

“Okay baby.” He chuckled, “ready for me to stop then?” He asked.

“No… not yet.” You said quietly. “Lay with me?”

“Oh sure thing princess.” He grinned, removing his fingers just long enough for him to turn off your lamp and help you slide under the blankets, his nakedness pressed firmly against yours.

“Mm, you’re so warm,” you giggled, Anakin’s arms wrapping around you tightly while he kissed the nape of your neck, spooning you from behind.

“Cozy?” He asked with a gruff tone, slipping his fingers back into your messy pussy from behind to continue the slow and gentle caresses.

“So cozy.” You nodded. “I’m gettin’ sleepy.” You said tiredly.

“I figured so.” He nodded, his voice a soft whisper. “I’ll lay with you until it’s time for me to leave for work okay?”

“I’ll make sure everything is all locked up when I leave, I’ll kiss you bye.” He spoke low and soothingly as he gently rubbed your neck, removing his fingers from your folds when he heard your breathing slightly change.

“I’ll text you,” he whispered, sucking your slick from his fingers between words, not hiding his hard-on as it pressed against your ass. “when I get there and when I get back home. I’ll miss you so much until I see you again tomorrow.”

Soon enough you were deep in sleep and Anakin was glad he’d made you take your pills at dinner time, he’d thought ahead and considered the very real possibility that you’d end up being fucked to sleep.

He was right of course.

——————————————————————————

“Anakin what the hell man?” Trevor chortled shoving a handful of ice down the back of Anakin’s shirt in retaliation to the towel-whip he’d dealt Trevor.

“What? Can’t a guy be happy?” Anakin laughed.

“Happy? Nah you’re fucking hyper.” Trevor grinned. “What’d you do that’s got you feeling so good? Gimme some.” He teased.

“Shut up, the hardest thing I do is pot you know that.” Anakin snorted.

“Then what’s the deal?” Trevor splayed his own hand a few inches from his face.

“I’m love drunk baby.” Anakin waggled his eyebrows and shimmied his shoulders.

“Jesus I don’t even know you! Who are you and what have you done with my jackass?” Trevor grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him with a laugh, turning to pour a beer on tap for a patron.

“I ate him.” Anakin shrugged and giggled.

“I’m calling your girlfriend. I don’t know if I can be around you anymore.” April said, walking past the two of them with a serving tray.

“She needs a break from me, she’s very tired.” Anakin said with a proud grin.

“Oh my god!” April cackled and made a quick exit from behind the bar to serve drinks at a corner table.

“Fucking freak.” Trevor snickered.

“That’s what she said.” Anakin stuck out his tongue and flicked it with an impish grin.

After an hour or so the bar traffic grew stagnant and Anakin stepped out back for a cigarette, flicking his zippo out to light the flame and swinging in shut. Letting a curl of smoke leave his lips to breathe in through his nose. He leaned back against the brick wall with his legs crossed at the ankles, raising his arms above his head to rest his fists on his forehead.

He was looking up at the hazy city-light polluted night sky, searching for stars, when the back door swung open and Trevor stepped out with a bottle of beer for himself and one for Anakin.

“Trade me.” He grunted, sitting down on an old wood crate and holding out the beer bottle, two fingers extended for Anakin to sit a cigarette between.

“Yessir,” Anakin nodded, going so far as to light it for his friend.

“Anakin.” Trevor said thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Anakin said, tipping up the beer bottle and watching the amber liquid bubble as he took a gulp.

“Did you hate me?” Trevor asked. “When you first started here?”

“What? Pfft, no what are you talking about?” Anakin asked, pushing off the wall with his black leather boot.

“I don’t know, you’re just different.” Trevor said with a shrug. “You just seemed so… excuse my critique; cold and distant.”

“Criticism accepted.” Anakin nodded. “It’s true I guess.”

“Yeah? So what changed?” Trevor asked in curiosity, a rare moment of vulnerability shared between two male friends wasn’t to be wasted.

“Met a girl. Got my shit together.” Anakin said, flicking cigarette ash to the pavement. “I love her you know?”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.” Anakin nodded. “I told her. She hasn’t said it back yet.”

“Well damn I’m sorry man-“

“No don’t be. She’ll say it.” Anakin held up his hand to stop him. “She just ain’t ready to admit it that’s all.”

“How are you not all depressed and shit?”

“I was, but I realized… I don’t care.” Anakin said simply. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care if I have to wait until I’m dead in the ground. I know she’ll tell me when she’s ready.”

“I had myself a bit of a freak out.” Anakin admitted, “but after I cooled off I’ve been… happier than I’ve ever been.”

“That why you’re all…” Trevor gestured to him with both hands.

“Yessir.” Anakin grinned.

“So you’re acting like you’ve won the fuckin’ lotto because your girl didn’t say she loved you?” Trevor raised his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t have to.” Anakin said, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms, placing the cigarette between his lips, inhaling slowly. Grabbing it between his forefinger and thumb he brought it back down to his side and made an O with his lips, hollowing his cheeks and flicking the dip in his cheek to let a ring of smoke out.

“I know she does.” Anakin said, tilting his head back against the brick and letting it loll to the side to look over at Trevor. “She didn’t run off, she didn’t tell me to get lost, she laid there with me… pretty little head on my chest.” Anakin said, making a motion with his hand above his heart.

“Then today.” Anakin said, clicking his tongue with a smirk. “She sat on my face in the parking lot of the Bluebird during her break n’ let me fuck her all over the house when I got her home.”

“Jesus, here I was thinkin’ you were being sweet.” Trevor snorted, flicking his bottle cap so the it bounced off the toe of Anakin’s boot.

“If that doesn’t scream love I don’t know what does.” Anakin sighed contentedly, stubbing out his cigarette and dropping it into the designated rusty coffee can for cigarette butt.

——————————————————————————

“Hey, look Trev isn’t that the guy uh… the one who did that thing junior year of highschool?” April shouted over the din of the bar from the other end of the counter, pointing up to the smaller tv playing the news rather than the basketball game.

“Uh… hold on I can’t- I don’t have my glasses.” he said walking over and squinting, Anakin walking up behind him to look over his shoulder.

“Mm yeah that’s the guy they called- uh,” he thought for a second before snapping his right hand fingers and bringing his palm down on top of his fist, pointing up at the screen. “Duck! Didn’t they?”

“Yeah! Yeah, him.” April nodded, sucking on a lemon slice she’d dipped in sugar.

She turned back around and shook up the tumbler she was mixing a drink in, pouring it over two glasses and sliding it across the table to their owners.

“Why’d they call him that?” Anakin asked, wiping down the bar, before washing up some shot glasses.

“He’d duck his head up under the bleachers to look up girls skirts at the pep rallies.” Trevor said with a huff, “real shit guy.”

“Tried to sell my brother herbs instead of herb.” April turned around with an amused look on her face.

“Huh.” Anakin said, tonguing the inside of his cheek to hide a smirk. “Real shit guy indeed.”

“Surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” Trevor said with a chuckle.

“Why’s that?” Anakin asked, tossing his towel over his shoulder, rubbing his palms together while he sucked on the ball of one of his snake bites.

“Like I said, real shit guy.” Trevor scoffed. “Doubt they’re even looking too hard for the guys who did it.”

“Guys?” Anakin asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yeah-“ he looked over his shoulder, “what’d it say April? Four of ‘em?”

“Yep.” She said, tossing her lemon rind in the trash.

“Damn.” Anakin shook his head.

“Yeah, the guy who ‘found’ him graduated with us too.” Trevor said, glancing back up at the tv and seeing it had switched over to the weather. “Supposedly it was a real mess, shit everywhere. Stole a bunch of stuff, some kind of drug related thing.”

“Well shit, poor guy.” Anakin shook his head, “that’d be a real nice thing to walk in on.”

“Well hell yeah it would, looking like the Red Seas in there.” Trevor snorted.

“How do you know?” Anakin asked with a smile.

“The dick posted it on his private Snapchat story before he called the cops.” Trevor said, “I didn’t see it, but my buddy did and he said it looked barf worthy, could smell it through the screen.”

“Goddamn that’s nasty.” Anakin winced, “thanks for that mental image.”

“I had to imagine it, so you did too.” Trevor said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Share the wealth or whatever.”

“Trev, I don’t think that applies to murder.” April said, walking past the boys.

“It does now, baby.” He said, tapping her ass as she walked past.

“Hey!” She shot him a dirty look but blushed and smiled anyway. “Told you not to do that at work.”

“Can’t help it.” Trevor shrugged. “Stress reliever.”

“Oh whatever.” She snorted.

“Anyway yeah- apparently the dude, Kyle Spencer, is suspect number one. He was high as a kite when he called Duck’s dad.”

“He called his dad?” Anakin asked confusedly, “not the cops?”

“His dad is the cops.” Trevor said, popping a piece of gum in his mouth before tossing a stick to Anakin.

“Oh shit.” Anakin scoffed, “so what, he called the guys dad to figure it out?”

“Mhm.” Trevor nodded. “At least that’s what everyone thinks. Cause Duck’s dad arrested the guy himself and seemed real ticked off about getting the call. He was at his other son’s house for the grandkids birthday.”

“Well, well, well.” Anakin snorted, covering his mouth to hide a grin as he poured a whiskey. “Isn’t that some good luck?”

——————————————————————————

“I’ve missed this.” Anakin sighed, cradling Boogie in his arms like a furry orange baby while he stood at the foot of your bed and watched you sleep.

“It’s the simple things you know?” He whispered, his filtered voice tapering in and out. He smiled beneath his mask, watching you stir slightly, kicking the covers off your feet.

He turned on his heel and walked out of the bedroom, setting your cat down on the kitchen counter and pouring her a third of a bowl of food. He took off his left hand glove to give her some chin scratches, then from the white patch between her eyes all the way to the end of her fluffy tail.

“You know, I used to really despise cats.” He said, leaning over on the counter and propping himself up on his gloved fist, watching her eat.

“The therapist I had as a kid said it was cause cats don’t automatically take to a person like dogs do.” He picked up her back foot and gently squish her paw pad to spread out her toe beans just to see her claws flex out.

“Cause they don’t listen. You can’t make ‘em listen, you can’t make ‘em do anything they don’t want.”

“I’m glad I met you.” He nodded. “You’re sweet, makes me… hmm, I wouldn’t say regretful. Just dissatisfied about before.”

“That’s okay though.” He sighed, “personal growth and whatnot.”

“I hope your momma won’t be too upset. I promised I’d start telling her before I visited, but you know tonight wasn’t really planned ahead and I got side tracked, and then sidetracked again, cause I’m here talking to you!” He chuckled, giving her a head pat.

“So hang out in here, okay kitty? I’ve got things to do.” He chuckled, unlacing his boots and setting them beside the front door, he made sure his socks were pulled up beneath his jeans and his gloves and sleeves were as they should be.

He crept back into your room, shutting the door behind him, thankful that you’d stayed naked after your evening escapade. You’d sprawled out, one leg bent and your arm above your head, the other hidden beneath the blanket along with your chest, middle and other leg. Anakin walked to the window and opened the curtain just the tiniest bit, allowing a sliver of moonlight to cast a pearly sheen across your exposed skin.

He stood and stared for a long while, having missed the scene before him. So many times he’d slunk in the shadows of your room, clinging to the wall to avoid disrupting that very beam of moonlight. He would scowl and chide you in his mind for leaving the curtains open, but he’d always, always, stop and observe the way you breathed under the pale periwinkle tinted light.

Once he’d had his fill of your nighttime innocence, he closed the curtain and returned you to the black of slumber, preparing to drag you with him on his path to midnight madness.

He lifted the blanket and folded it over out of his way, using the pretty patterned top sheet to cover his head after taking off his mask and placed it on the bed beside him.

Just for the extra security he tugged up his hood as well and hoped that he wouldn’t sweat to death before he could make you finish.

Slowly pushing your legs apart, he smiled at the soft breath you took in when he gently held your hip so that you wouldn’t shift out of position. Anakin pulled off his right hand glove and shoved it in his back pocket so it wouldn’t get lost beneath the sheets.

He kissed along your outer lips, pressing his nose against the crease at the apex of your thighs, inhaling the scent of you and dragging his tongue along behind as his nose traveled up that crease until he reached your hip, where the waist band of your panties should be. He took a moment to nuzzle into the softness of your lower belly, showering your satin skin with kisses before returning to your slit.

His mouth hovered over your folds as if he were mentally preparing himself to savor you slowly, compared to the fast-paced feasts he’d had on you earlier in the day.

With his tongue laid out flat he licked up the remnants of his cum and yours, introducing you to the warm ball centered toward the front of his tongue, purposely letting it catch against your clit. He breathed through his nose, leaving his tongue flat to circle and flick the metal ball over your clit, smiling in triumph when you jolted at the first movement.

He circled your entrance with the calloused pad of his thumb, slurping up your creamy slick from your folds. He flexed his tongue to swipe it side to side the bottom ball of the metal bar scraped along his bottom row of teeth, making a dull metallic sound that seemed much louder to Anakin than it was in reality so he halted his movements to listen for a change in your breathing.

After ensuring you wouldn’t ruin his fun too early he continued his gentle licks and prods of his tongue to your leaking hole. He pulled his mask closer to him, he needed to feel your heat around his fingers and he knew it wouldn’t take too long before you realized what was happening. After all, you didn’t drink your tea.

Inserting one finger slowly his curved it upward and flicked his tongue side to side at the same pace of his finger. He felt you stir beneath him, so he placed a sloppy kiss to your clit. Lazily licking across you rather than giving you calculated movements. He pushed in a second finger, groaning loudly at the squelch when your cunt hungrily sucked in the extra digit.

Your hands came down to push him away, trying to close your legs in your half-awake state.

“Ani?” You asked, trying to cover your drenched pussy with your hand when you felt an unfamiliar sensation slide over your clit, smooth and warm.

Anakin’s ego skyrocketed, but his penchant for deviant behavior told him that statement should be punished by Ghost. Although he’d have to make that decision later because you were getting whiny and impatient.

“Anakin, please.” You mumbled. “What’s that?”

Anakin halted his movements and slipped on his mask and quickly shoved his hand in his glove.

“I’ll give you one more guess little doe.” The modified voice cut through the fog of your sleep and you bolted upright.

“Ghost?” You gasped in surprise, pulling the blankets back over you. “You didn’t- why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Don’t be embarrassed baby,” he cooed, tugging the blankets away and running his leather hands up your stomach, stopping just beneath your tits. “This is an emergency visit and-“

“What?” You asked in confusion, your eyebrows furrowed. “What happened? What did you do?”

“Um… ow. Hurtful.” He said in a disappointed tone. “I didn’t do anything except develop a raging hard-on.”

“You ass!” You shouted, smacking at his arm. “You scared me!”

“Hey.” He barked. “Maybe next time let me finish talking yeah? Jumping to conclusions like that’ll strain a muscle.”

You stared at him in a state of… not shock or fear, but a bewildered sort of amusement. Once again: the audacity of this man is astounding.

“What?” He asked, sounding irritated.

“I don’t- I don’t know.” You snorted, covering your mouth to stifle a laugh.

“W-wha… hey?” He stammered, confused by your laughter. “Are you laughing? What’s funny?”

“You.” Another laughed bubbled up from your chest.

“Wait- what? You… you’re...” His mouth gaping beneath his mask. “Are you for real?”

“Oh- I’m sorry no… no don’t be mad.” You said reaching out but snatching your hand back quickly after remembering what happened last time you touched him like that without permission.

“Mad?” His voice crackled, the modified voice hinting at hurt in his tone. “Why- why would you think I’m mad?”

“Doe, I’m… that makes me happy.” He said quietly. “This is the first time I’ve made you laugh.”

“What?” You scoffed, “no it’s not.”

“It is.” He said solemnly. “Trust me I keep track of things like that.”

“But-“

“No, no. Trust me.” He said, straddling your legs but not putting any weight on you. “You’ve done that dorky anxious laugh a few times. But I mean… that was a real one.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, your face falling when you realized he was probably right.

“Doe, I’m sure about everything when it comes to you.” He said low and serious, inching closer.

“I’m sorry.” You said, feeling horrible. “That- I’m sorry, that makes me feel bad.”

“Don’t.” He said sternly. “Don’t feel bad.”

“I just had the most fitting conversation earlier today.” He said slowly. “Talking about things and waiting till they’re ready. You laughed cause you were ready.” He said with a defining nod, cupping your cheeks with both hands and carefully caressing your under eyes.

“I’ve always been in favor of positive reinforcement.” Anakin said, smiling to himself. “Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“What is it?” You asked suspiciously, looking him over.

“Something new.” Anakin said simply.

“But,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “You have to promise that you’ll listen to me.”

“Okay…” you nodded cautiously.

“Good girl.” He gave you a curt nod in return, breathing deeply. “Now, I’m gonna give you some very simple instructions. If you do not listen, if you don’t follow them with precision, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” You nodded, frowning slightly.

Anakin very tenderly rested his leathered thumbs over your eyes, gingerly closing them and so, so, so carefully making sure they stayed closed.

“Listen closely.” His voice low and dangerous. “When I tell you it’s okay, I want you to take my mask off.”

“What?” You jolted in shock, this was not what you expected at all, you assumed it would be something much more… raunchy.

“Shut up.” He said sharply. “Quiet, listen to me.”

“Sorry.” You whispered, biting down on your lip and fidgeting with your fingers.

“When I tell you it’s okay, you are going to take off my mask. You’re going to be quiet. You’re not going to talk. You’re not going to hear me talk. You will not move. You will keep the mask in your hands, in your lap, and you will not touch me.” Anakin’s voice was clearly conveying a seriousness that couldn’t be ignored.

“Yes sir.” You nodded.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” He dropped his hands immediately and squeaked out the most pitiful unfiltered noise a man could make.

He didn’t hide it when he palmed his cock, he didn’t seem surprised when you moaned after he grabbed your face. He did lean down, eye level to you and lace his free hand’s long fingers with yours.

“Say it again f’me doe.” He groaned, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing length.

“Yes sir.” You repeated in a smaller, less confident voice. You hadn’t expected a reaction like this, you’d meant for it to come out snarky…

“New plan.” He grunted, fisting your hair at the top of your head to pull you into sitting position.

He got down off the bed and grabbed his bag from the floor, pulling out a pretty, pink, silk handkerchief and tossing it at you. Along with a pair of padded pink fabric handcuffs, Velcro, not metal clasps.

“What are you… what’s this?” You asked in surprise, an amused smirk on your lips.

“Well, you know the tape ah- just… oh fuck off.” He huffed folding the handkerchief to make a blindfold and carefully tying it tightly around your head, guiding your arms behind your back.

You heard the loud *skrrrriiip* of the Velcro coming apart, then felt the soft liner enveloping each wrist.

“No gag this time?” You huffed, annoyed that he hadn’t finished his sentence, his explanation.

His belt buckle clanked around and he undid his zipper, guiding you to your knees in front of him. He pried your mouth open and pinched the tip of your tongue between his fingers, pulling it slightly before roughly pushing your head down, forcing his girthy length into your mouth.

“Gag on this.” He grunted, holding your head still while you choked around his fat cockhead, your eyes already beginning to water.

He thrust himself in shallow strokes but made sure to hit the back of your mouth every time as punishment, drool dripping down your bottom lip and onto his weighty balls each time they smacked the underside of your chin.

“I w-was gonna kiss you.” He gritted out, causing you to pull back in an effort to say something, but he forced you back down, fucking into your throat alittle deeper.

“Jesus, just listen damnit.” He barked out at you, tugging your hair. “I was trying to… fuck that feels good- mmph.” A puff of air left his nose and he inhaled through his mouth in a shaky gasp.

“Tryin’ to kiss you, m-make it special and soft.” He grunted. “Tried to get you something alittle nicer than some tape from the junk drawer and an old bandana.”

“Should’ve known better.” He groaned, gritting his teeth while he listened to your labored breathing.

“Bitchy little ungrateful brat.” He spat, thrusting harder after he’d said it just to drive his point home.

“Y-you would’ve still gotten your kiss if you hadn’t of smart mouthed me.” He panted. “Now you’re just gonna get a belly full of cum.”

“When are you going to learn?” He chuckled, looking down at you and red tinted face. He pulled out his phone, turning on the flash and hitting record.

“You were being such a good girl.” He moaned, low and gravely. “Callin’ me sir? Good manners. That was a good job, little doe.”

“Then you you went and screwed it up didn’t you? Hmm?” His condescending tone sent a zap of lighting to your core. “Smart mouthing me like I’d let you get away with it.” He scoffed.

“Apologize to me sweetheart.” He demanded, grabbing you by the neck just beneath your jaw and squeezing when you didn’t answer. “C’mon you know you were bad.”

You breathed out through flared nostrils and blinked away your tears, you spoke as best you could but of course it was hardly more than a few choppy sounds.

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk with a full mouth?” He laughed, smacking your cheek gently.

“Oh don’t do that baby.” He cooed, his hips slowing as you tried to wriggle free from your restraints.

“Tell you what…” He pulled up your blind fold and tossed it aside. “let’s play a game.” He grunted. “Just be still for a second okay? Then we’ll talk.” He carded his fingers through your hair and nearly keeled over on the spot when your eyelids fluttered, showing just the whites of your eyes.

He doubled over, accidentally shoving his length farther than he meant to, shooting salty ropes down your throat, a choked moan left his lips as his knees buckled slightly.

“Holy shit- oh fuck…” He panted, doing his best to pull back slowly so as not to hurt you. “Sorry baby.” He mumbled sheepishly, quickly tucking himself back in his boxers.

“You okay?” He breathed out, crouching down and getting on your level after stopping the recording.

“Mhm.” Your lungs felt heavy, coughing from your sore throat. “M’fine.”

“Stand up.” He said firmly, but not in a commanding way, more of a ‘I know what’s best for you please just do it’ way.

You nodded and stood up to face him, waiting for further details but you got none. Anakin spun you around and removed your cuffs, grunting in approval when he saw he’d managed not to mar up your pretty skin on accident with these new bindings.

Then, gentle hands on your shoulders turned you back around. He just stood there and stared at you. You hated when he did that, it was so hard to judge his mood already. But when he was quiet and still? Impossible.

“Do you know what a safe word is?” He asked.

“Yes…” you said, looking off to the side.

“Good. Yours is purple, got it?” He asked, gripping your chin.

“Okay. Safe word is purple.” You nodded, gauging his unmoving form cautiously.

“Put on some pjs.” He said plainly, flipping out his knife, one you hadn’t seen before, just to play with while he waited.

“Is that new?” You asked quietly, trying to make some kind of semi-normal conversation.

“What? This?” He asked, flipping it closed and holding it out to you.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Is it?”

“You noticed.” He said simply, swinging his hand side to side in a gesture for you to take it.

“I’m smarter than I look.” You snorted, taking it from him and carefully opening it.

“We’ll see.” He said in a flat tone, his mood changed slightly now.

“Roses?” You asked, closing the handles back to look at the carved design in black metal with red backing.

“I bought that one just for you. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind it as much if it were pretty.” He said softly, reaching his hand up behind his head to scratch his neck as though he were anxious.

“I- well.” You sighed, stunned by him for the thousandth time. “That’s actually very sweet Ghost.”

You awkwardly handed it back to him, unsure how to navigate this calmer water with him. You gave him a crooked smile and finished getting dressed.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not that. I like that one.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Fine.” You slipped back out of the matching set you had chosen, and tossed it in the drawer without folding it.

“Move.” He grunted, pulling out your bottom drawer and grabbed an old tshirt of Anakin’s and a pair of his loose boxers that you sometimes wore as shorts. “Put them on.”

You scowled, but tried to bite back your words. In some strange way of his own he was being nicer. He was trying. He obviously felt terribly about how he’d scared you into a panic attack, he cared enough to check up on you. You may as well play along.

After getting dressed you put your hands on your hips and faced him squarely.

“Run.”

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“Run.” He barked, his voice gritty and dangerous, he stood up to his full height and flicked open his knife again. “Get movin’, go!”

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THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[s0fter-sin]

something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line

“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”

“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"

but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.

he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.

his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.

ghost doesn't let him.

"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."

soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.

he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."

the ice in soap's eyes fractures.

ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.

“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

soap ghost and reader 3some?? 😻

“Steamin Jesus, look at you.” Johnny breathed out, practically droooling as he his eyes raked over your naked body. “Can’t believe L.T. has kept this body of yours all to himself.”

You let out a shaky sigh as Johnny’s hands began to wander across your body, his eyes flickering to Simon as his fingers ghosted over your breasts. “May I touch?”

“She’s yours for the night, Johnny. I’m only here to watch.” Simons voice was strained, and you looked over to find him watching the two of you intently, his hand lazily palming his cock through his boxers. “You know my rule, though. If she says stop, you stop.”

Johnny gave a nod in reply, his eyes falling back to you. His hands grabbed at both of your tits, massaging at the plump flesh firmly, before capturing your lips with his.

It was clear that Johnny was quite experienced. He kissed you like you were the only girl on the planet for him, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, groaning against your lips as he memorized your taste.

He pulled away with a shit eating smirk, watching as your wandering eyes landed on the obvious buldge growing in his boxers “You gonna help a man out, lass?”

You took your lower lip between your teeth before looking over at your boyfriend, silently asking for permission even though the entire night was his idea.

“Go ahead, love.” Simon encouraged, giving you a soft smile. He never took his eyes off you as you sank down to your knees, freeing the Scotsman’s cock from the confines of his boxers.

Your eyes widened at his size, his cock being the farthest thing from small. It wasn’t as big as Simon’s, but it made up for the difference in length with just how thick it was.

Feeling your mouth water in anticipation, you wasted no time in taking his cock in your mouth, relishing in the fact that it had both men in the room groaning.

~~~~~~~~

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight.” Johnny groaned out, his hands finding purchase on your waist as he sank himself fully inside of you. “Feels so good, lass.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at the intrusion, the delicious stretch from his cock nearly causing you to see stars. Though he wasn’t as lengthy as Simon, Johnny was just as if not thicker, and it stretched your walls in ways you didn’t think possible. “Oh my god.”

You heard a soft groan come from the corner of the room, and looked over to see Simon pumping at his cock, which was now fully hard in his hand. “S-Si.”

“Johnny makin’ you feel good, sweet girl?” Simon cooed, not taking his eyes off of you as he pumped at himself faster. “I want to hear what my best mate does to you, baby. Wanna hear if he can make you feel as good as I do.”

You let out a guttural moan as Johnny began to pull out of you, before ramming himself back into your soaked cunt. He let out a low chuckle as he felt your walls clench around him, before setting a brutal pace.

His fingers were bruising against your waist, his nails digging into the flesh there as his cock assaulted your walls, the tip of it kissing your cervix with each jut of his hips.

Unlike Simon, Johnny was rough. His nails began to pierce your skin, his pace not relenting as he relished in the soft mewls that he elicited from you. Your hands gripped the sheets in front of you as you gasped for air, your mind growing fuzzy as your friend continued to fuck you dumb.

You didn’t notice Simon moved from his spot until his face was right in front of yours, his deep brown eyes filled with lust as he looked at your lips. “You doing alright, princess?”

You gave your boyfriend a weak nod, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut as the sounds of Johnnys moans, and the sound of his abdomen hitting your ass filled the air. Everything about this night was completely filthy, and you loved every second of it.

“Such a fuckin’ good girl.” Simon praised, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. “Think you can help me get off while Johnny fucks you? Turns out my hand isn’t as effective as that pretty mouth of yours.”

You let out a soft whine as your boyfriend cupped your jaw, pressing another kiss to your lips before standing. You watched as he fisted himself for a moment longer before gesturing for you to open your mouth.

Oh yeah, this night was far from over.

[thegnomelord]

pls pls pls pls pls pls write something with hound getting a lil chubby during rehab pls i want to see him soft and comfy, being hand fed and cuddled. hound with a little tum from finally having not only enough to eat but enough rest to actually gain a little extra weight pls im in my knees characters getting a lil chub as a sign of healing my beloved

Okay here's a small brain fart for you:

You've gotten fat.

it's a rather egregious exaggeration, according to the two sergeants, but it's the first thing you think of when you look in the mirror. Your hard muscles still bulge beneath your skin when you flex, but now there's a layer of fat cushioning your frame — it smooths the planes of your abdomen, widens the circumference of your thighs and the breadth of your shoulders until you're popping the seams of your clothes, the layer of fat deepening the cleavage between your pecks whenever you cross your arms. Even your cheeks look chubbier than they had before.

You don't look like death warmed over, and you don't know how to feel about it. The psychologist says it's a good thing, your body finally figuring out it can slow down and focus on healing instead of constantly living on the edge of a knife.

But you just don't see it. It feels like you're regressing; Forgetting the harshness of the wild when you're collared and leashed by the fireplace, growing fat and lazy, complacent. A spoiled dog isn't loyal.

You let out a noise at the back of your throat when Johnny suddenly rushes into the small room you've been given, the door slamming open and closed. You don't have time to even say a single word before he's in front of you, "Hide me!" and then he's gripping your shit and pushing himself beneath it. Your frame is big enough to where you completely block him out, and his arms wrap as much as they can around your waist so he can cling to you.

You're rarely stunned to the point you don't know what to do, but this is one of those times.

A second later you hear a "MacTavish!" and loud footsteps rush down the hall, accompanied by loud swears and threats you can only assume are from Ghost.

Johnny waits still as a statue as the footsteps grow quiet, his breath washing over your skin from where his face is pressed against your chest. When they grow quiet he shuffles, a couple of seams popping in the already stretched out shirt until he pokes his head through the head hole of the shirt, resting his chin on the top of your sternum. "Thanks laddie, saved me skin there."

"Что блят?" Is the only thing your mind can force out, defaulting to Russian because you haven't been able to dig up your mother tongue from the grave the old you is buried in.

"Ah don't worry about it, the bloody dobber had it comin' with his bloody tea in chef Mike an' — Hmmm," His attention focuses on you, head disappearing beneath the shirt once again until only his stupid mohawk pokes out as his hands give an experimental squeeze at your sides, some of the fat getting trapped between his fingers. "Hey, have you gotten bigger? Ah could swear you weren't so fluffy before."

"That a nice way of calling me fat?" You feel the need to cross your arms, to hide the cushioning hiding your muscles. Ants gnaw on your skin where Soap touches you, his calloused palms sliding as far as they can and a strange sound rumbling in his chest when he registers that the space between both of his hands is indeed larger than it had been a couple of months ago.

"Nonsense!" He guffaws, "There's just more ta love." He hums, hands pinching the fat at your sides, evidently too content with your position as his human furnace to even think about detaching from you. "Oh yeah, you've filled out. Yae know hens love the dad bod, get some more hair on yer chest an' you'll be reeling the bucks in too."

"That-" You have to bite your lip when his hands suddenly shoot up to grope your pecks. He pushes them together and buries his face in the cleavage created. Your brain completely shuts off when he fucking motorboats you, shaking his head and making a sound right against your chest to the point you're sure you can feel the vibrations in your spine.

"MacT-avish!" The sound that escapes you is humorously high-pitched for someone of your size, your voice cracking as you feel your entire face grow hot.

He pokes his head back out like a whack-a-mole, a very pleased look on his face. "Yeeess?" He asks, sickly sweet. "Something the problem big man?"

"I-" You try, too many thoughts weighing down your tongue, "-You-" this time your voice cracks, "-why-" you hiccup, your lungs choosing this time to request air as you breathe in. You look in his eyes as best you can, but the way the sparkle makes it difficult for your body to stoke the flames of anger you've grown so used to feel. ". . . блят." You finally manage to say, your shoulders sagging.

He grins at you, his hands sliding down to pet the soft surface of your stomach, fingers pressing down to feel the hard muscle beneath the fat. "Aye, big bear of a fucker, you are." He grins and goes on his tippy toes, the shirt moving up with him before he lightly pecks your lips. "Yae look good like this."

"Yeah?" You grunt, trying not to show how the soft touch affects you but your ears feel like you'd dipped them into the pits of hell.

"Definitely." He's confident when his hands slides down to grope your ass, forcing another embarrassing sound from your chest. "Now how about we get some more food in yer belly? Make you the famous MacTavish pie."

[d0youc0py]

Can you do like the 141 taskforce+könig crying and not wanting the reader see. But then the reader walks in the room and started to comfort them.

“Could you pass these to Ghost? They need his signature.” You hummed in response taking the folder from Price.

“Sending me to find the grump. Real nice Cap.” You groaned playfully. Price let out a soft chuckle and you could feel the eye roll as you shut the office door behind you.

You were actually looking forward to tracking him down. He’d been different lately. Colder, snippier. At least to you it was unusual. Soap explained to you that’s how Ghost was way before you joined, and it took a lot of work to get the masked man to where he was now- a relatively happy human being. You thought Johnny just wanted some glory, but you were starting to think he was telling the truth.

“Lieu.” You chirped, the large, metal door to the roof creaked and whined as you shut it. You knew you’d find him here. It’s the only place he can smoke. He had his back against the wall, and he quickly put out his cigarette on your arrival. “Don’t have to stop for me.”

“And listen to you fake cough for twenty minutes?” He huffed. You plopped down next to him. His mask rested on his knee, his head facing the opposite direction of where you were.

“Cap wanted you to sign these.” You said, handing the file over. He grabbed it, surprised by how light it was.

“It’s empty.” He swallowed a chuckle.

“What?” You leaned over your shoulder pressing against his. An empty file folder stared back at you. Maybe the papers fell out in the hallway? You hoped it wasn’t confidential.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a Price tactic.” He groaned. “He just wanted to give you a reason to come check on me.” Simon sighed resting his upper face against his palms.

“Why me.” You mumbled.

“Cause he knows I won’t bite your head off.” Simon finally looked over at you a small smirk on his lips.

“You’ve been crying?” You almost gasped, taking in the red blotches across his face. His brows furrowed.

“No.” He spat. “Probably gettin’ sunburnt.”

“It’s okay to cry Lieu.” You pressed. He huffed again.

“I wasn’t crying.” He pressed back.

“I cry.” You commented.

“You think I don’t know that? How many times have you slobbered all over me since we’ve been working together.” The comment made you chuckle. Simon had been your shoulder to cry on during more than one occasion.

“You’re right.” You tsked, resting your head against his shoulder. He tensed but let his body relax. “You know I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to slobber all over me for a change.” You whispered.

He didn’t say anything, but the way his hand squeezed yours provided more emotion than any of his words could.

It was always a challenging adjustment, going from Captain with thousands of people relying on you to just being John. It didn’t help that his home was a recluse cottage in the English countryside. To most people it was something out of a storybook, to him though- it was a type of prison. It was so quiet- except for birds chirping and the sound of trickling water from a nearby stream. He didn’t deserve such tranquility. It wasn’t a home to him, just a place he could get drunk and sleep it off- maybe cry if he had the energy.

That was until he met you.

When you told him you couldn’t go on leave with him this time he quickly threw himself back into his old habits as soon as he walked through the door of his ‘home.’ You had made it a home. The whole place felt of you. You had turned the dark, run down cottage into a sanctuary, but without you physically there it resembled the prison he was much more familiar with. He grabbed a brand new bottle of scotch from the cabinet, quickly retreating into the bedroom.

Without you there he had no place to hide. Nothing to take his mind off of work. He was just John. Completely useless John.

You hoped he wasn’t upset at you. You had a family emergency and you just thought it would be better if he didn’t come with you. You didn’t need to expose him to that mess. Yet as the phone went to his voicemail for the tenth time you wondered if you had maybe made the wrong call.

“Hey Cap, it’s me, again. Listen I hope you aren’t upset at me, I don’t think you are but”- You cut yourself off. “Call me back please? I should be able to wrap up here in a day or two. Love you.” You hung up with a sigh.

You had kept your promise and the family affair only took another day to sort out.

“Cap!” You yelled, shutting the door behind you. The weather outside was depressing, matching the atmosphere inside. Complete silence. “Cap!” You tried again. You trudge up the narrow steps of the cottage, already having a feeling where he was. The bedroom door was wide open, he was sprawled out on his stomach, his back rising and falling as he slept. You grabbed the empty bottle off the floor, and trudged back down the stairs, starting on dinner. You felt horribly responsible.

He had opened up here and there about how he struggled during leave. You didn’t doubt it. He was always so composed during missions that it only seemed natural for it to all come to a boiling point sometime. A loud shout from upstairs snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped at the sound, your feet making quick work up the stairs.

“Cap?” You asked quietly. You could hear his labored breathing from down the hall. He had flung his legs over the bed his head buried in his hands. The sound of your voice caused his head to snap up. He rubbed at his face, but you caught a few glistening tears.

“I didn’t know you were here.” He offered you a fake smile, trying his best to cover up his embarrassment.

“You alright?” You began to walk towards him but he stood up waving you off.

“Sometimes my mind wanders away from me when I sleep, nothin for you to worry about.” He assured, digging in his closet for a shirt.

“I didn’t know you had nightmares.” You continued, sitting on the edge of his bed. He waved you off again. “I was worried, you know?” You sighed. He rolled his shoulders, joining you on the bed. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“I know it must be hard having everyone rely on you all the time, but you need someone too, John. You deserve a break, you deserve to be happy- actually you deserve it more than anyone I know.” You wrapped your arm up with his, leaning against his shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken so softly to him. He wondered if anyone ever had spoken to him in this way. It made the last few bricks of his wall crumble and he let a few silent tears roll down his face. Neither of you made any move to wipe them away.

You groaned quietly to yourself as a knock clamored through your room.

“Come in!” You shouted. The door knob made no move to open. You shrugged, reburying yourself under the covers.

Another knock.

“Come in!” You shouted again. The door didn’t even budge.

Another knock.

“Steamin Jesus.” You growled, throwing the covers off of you. You opened the door, only to come face to face with a teary eyed Johnny.

“Bubbles?” You questioned softly. “What happened?” He threw you a smile.

“Nothing.” He denied.

“You’re shaking, Jo.” Your hands rested against his arms.

“Tough workout.” He said quickly.

“That’s also why you’re panting?” You continued. He nodded his head.

“I didn’t even know the gym was open this late- or should I say early.” You hummed looking over at the clock. Your eyes met his again.

“Goodnight.” He said suddenly, opening the door next to yours. He disappeared into his room. You groaned softly, closing the door. You walked back over to your bed, stopping at the door that conjoined your room with his. You didn’t bother to knock as you slowly creaked it open.

Even in the darkness you could find him hiding underneath the bedsheets. His large body took up most of the bed so you just plopped down on top of him. “Jo.” You hummed. Your hand snaked its way under the covers, petting at his hair. “Why’re you sad?”

“Not sad.” He insisted. “Thought you called me so I went to check on you.”

“If you’re going to lie to me I’m not going to cuddle you.” You sighed moving to get up. He acted fast, wrapping you up in his blanket, nuzzling his face between your cheek and the pillow.

“Had a bad dream.” He finally muttered out.

“I understand, that last mission was a rough one.” You soothed scratching up and down his back. He shook his head.

“Wasn’t about work.” He sighed, his grip on you tightening.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, shamelessly breathing in your scent. “Okay.” You smiled softly. You pulled the sheets up, doing your best to tuck the both of you in. “You never have to feel bad about coming to me, you know. You always take care of me, it’s about time I started repaying the favor.” You spoke, giving him a squeeze. You didn’t mention it when you felt his wet tear roll down your neck.

“Oh, I’m sorry Ky!” You sputtered quickly. He had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. Luckily he wasn’t in a compromising position.

“It’s alright.” He said quickly, splashing his face with cold water, praying you didn’t noticed the redness around his eyes.

“You okay.” You asked softly. Of course you noticed. No one could ever get anything past you.

“I’m fine.” He responded curtly. You bit your lip, taking the cue to shut the door. That wasn’t the last time you would see him with a similar appearance.

He had been dodging everyone. The normal life-of-the-party quickly turning into a bad attitude that even made Ghost uncomfortable. He had dark circles under his puffy eyes, and his voice was so hoarse that when he did speak it caused you to wince. It took you a whole day to finally corner him.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” You said, stepping onto the fire escape.

“I don’t.” He responded bluntly, taking another drag. You sighed, grabbing the little white stick before putting it out on a cigar filled ashtray. He scratched at his forehead, leaning back against the cold bars. You sat down next to him, not bothering to say a word. You just stared at him. “What?” He chuckled dryly. It was obvious he was growing uncomfortable under your gaze. “What’s your problem.” He snapped.

“What’s your problem?” You chided back. His face softened.

“Nothin.”

“Knock it off, Ky.” You snipped. He opened his mouth, the edges of his lips curling. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “Why won’t you let anyone help you? Everyone has tried to pry what’s going on out of you but all you’ve done is brush people off. We’re a family, Ky.” Your voice was soft, so soft it sent a shiver down his spine.

“People already don’t take me seriously. The last thing I need is for someone to pin me as a baby.” He muttered through a clenched jaw.

“Ky, no one thinks of you that way.” You gasped, resting your chin against his shoulder. You tangled your arms with his. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Mom’s sick again.” He admitted. “I know she’s taken care of back home but I just wish I could do more.” He quickly wiped a tear that escaped his eye.

“Ky, I’m so sorry.” You whispered, squeezing his arm. “You talk to Cap? I’m sure he’d excuse you.” He quickly shook his head.

“Don’t want any special treatment. Besides she’s kill me if I make a fuss over her, she’s already mad that I’ve been callin her twice a day.” He let out a light chuckle. “She’ll be fine, she always is.”

“You must get your toughness from her, uh?” You smiled.

“I like to think so.” He smirked.

If there was one thing Konig hated most in the world it was room full of loud, drunk, strangers. So when the team demanded they go out to celebrate he quickly declared he had a load of paperwork to do. It wasn’t until he overheard Horangi complement how good you looked in your civilian clothes did he decide to tag along. He was colonel after all, couldn’t let his team make an utter fool of themselves.

He felt sick before the car even stopped, the loud music and loud chatter easily heard from down the street. He didn’t even really like to drink. He needed to have full control over his body. Yet he was about to break that rule as all sorts of people brushed up against him. His height didn’t seem to matter here, the alcohol making people feel invincible.

“Give me a piggy-back ride!” Someone yelled from next to him. He groaned low in his throat, keeping his eyes trained on you. You quickly found the dance floor and he quickly found the perfect spot to view you from. Despite his height the hoard of people quickly caused you to fade from view.

The thought of something happening to you flickered through his mind. What if someone got handsy? He knew you could handle yourself- but he wanted to handle it for you. With another groan he left his seat in the corner of the room trudging his way through the mass of sweaty, loud people. He did take a bit of satisfaction from bumping into them a little too hard.

Where the hell were you? Trained blue eyes scanned the room from top to bottom, side to side and yet no sign of you. Were you getting swallowed up by the masses too? He wiped the sweat off his flushed forehead. It seemed never ending. The shouting. The touching. The room. The eyes. The hands. The sounds. The smells. The lights. Everything was just too much. He was about to scream when he felt a soft hand grab his. He recognized the feel of your skin instantly. He let his brain turn to mush as you pulled him out of the crowd, your sweet eyes sending him a worried glance. The hot air felt cool against his burning skin. He leaned against the wall, keeping your hand wrapped in his large one, like a lifeline.

“You alright Konnie?” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze. He nodded his head, quickly wiping a few overwhelmed tears that managed to slip past his waterline. “Ko.” You sighed again, reaching up brushing one he missed away. His head flinched away. “Don’t be embarrassed Konnie. It was a lot- even for me.” You whispered, taking a few steps closer. His breathing had just began to come back to normal until you pressed yourself against his side.

“I hope no one else say that.” He grumbled. “I’d be unemployed.” You snickered.

“I won’t tell Konnie. I promise.”

[criminalamnesia]

If it's not too much would you consider a roommates! Gaz and Soap where you need temporary housing and they offer to put you up for a couple of months in return for some housekeeping and cooking? But then it's awkward sharing a space with three people and two bedrooms so you end up a free use maid ✨

so I’ve been thinking about this,,, and I’m actually changing your idea a little bit (I hope that’s okay!)

also I got completely carried away with this and I miiight already be thinking about a part two where things get a little spicier, like you asked! 👀 keep a look out :))

(also I will 100% write for roommate!johnny&gaz eventually but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head!)

you’re soap’s sister, and when you tell him you need a place to stay, he doesn’t hesitate.

it didn’t click in his mind how your moving in may pose a problem until he’s helping you pack your stuff into a van.

one— he lives with gaz, and he may have forgotten to tell his roommate that they’re adding a third to their already small apartment.

two— there’s only two bedrooms.

gaz was currently on a special assignment, so these two things weren’t a huge problem at the moment. johnny shoots his teammate a text, informing him of the predicament and apologizing for just now telling him.

gaz responds, obviously a little peeved, and johnny’s suddenly absorbed in his phone, trying to soothe ruffled feathers and make this work.

you’re huffing as you keep shoving boxes into the van, your muscly brother now too preoccupied to continue helping.

“little help here, johnny?” you call from the trunk, and johnny startles from his spot leaning against the side of the truck.

by the time he clicks his phone off and resumes helping you, him and gaz have settled things.

you’d have johnny’s bedroom. johnny could sleep in gaz’s room until gaz got back home. and the rest would be worked out at a later date.

————————————————

you’ve never met gaz before. sure, johnny has told you all about his teammates and his roommate in particular, but you’ve never actually met the man until now.

he makes you screech in terror, holding the broom you’d been using to sweep the kitchen up like a sword. he chuckles.

“how’d you get in here?” your eyes are wide, taking in the man in front of you, and then it clicks. you remember the pictures johnny had shown you.

this was gaz.

and fuck, he was hot.

“I live here, love.” he says, his tone obviously amused as he looks you up and down. “gonna put that down? or will I be sporting some broom-shaped bruises for the next week?”

“oh, sorry—” you scramble to put the broom down, leaning it against one of the kitchen counters. “I didn’t hear you come in, and johnny didn’t tell me you’d be home today.”

“he didn’t know,” gaz shrugged, walking further into the kitchen now that your weapon of choice had been set aside. “where is he, by the way? we’ve got a lot of talking to do. gotta figure out this room situation.”

you pick at your cuticles anxiously as you shuffle out of the way, allowing gaz to open the fridge. he grabs a bottle of water and twists the lid off, and you’re mesmerized.

wait, what?

you mentally shake yourself from your stupor.

“um, he’s at the gym i think. he should be home soon.”

gaz nods, taking a swig from his water. his eyes settle on you once more as he shuts the fridge door.

“but about the bedrooms,” you start, taking a step towards him. “johnny can have his back. im fine with the couch, and—”

“oh, absolutely not, love. I’d sooner take the couch than make you sleep on it.”

“no no,” you say, shaking your head. “I’ve already caused enough problems by moving in. please let me—”

he cuts you off again with a dazzling smile. “it’s settled, love. you’re not sleeping on the couch. and your moving in isn’t a problem, trust me.”

damn, he’s smooth. you feel your cheeks getting hot, and you have to force yourself to look away from him before you melt.

“okay, well, if you won’t let me take the couch, at least let me do the chores and stuff, yeah? it’s not like I have much else to do,” you tell him with a dry chuckle. the whole reason you’d resorted to moving in with johnny was because you were between jobs right now.

you quite literally had all the time in the world to help around the apartment.

kyle almost looks like he’s going to protest again, but he doesn’t. he must see how much you want to do this, how badly you feel for ‘interrupting’ (you’re absolutely not, and although he’d been miffed about johnny not asking him about you moving in at first, he couldn’t care less now. you were stunning).

at his silence, you give a firm nod. “alright then,” you grin, and he matches your expression. “nice to finally meet you, gaz.”

“kyle,” he says, and your smile widens the tiniest bit.

“kyle.” you say, as if testing the word out on your tongue.

“sis, y’home? I was thinking chinese for dinner!” johnny calls out as the door to the apartment opens. he steps inside, toeing off his shoes before rounding the corner to the kitchen.

“you shite!” johnny laughs out as he spots gaz in the kitchen. they both chuckle, embracing each other in short hug, slapping each other on the back.

“y’broken?” you hear johnny ask, and gaz shakes his head.

“nah, all good.”

johnny nods, patting gaz on the shoulder before his eyes shift to you.

“see y’ve met my sis,” he says, moving towards you and ruffling your hair. you groan, slapping at his hand. gaz laughs. “hope she hasn’ given ya trouble.”

“I just came in,” gaz says, eyes meeting yours for a brief moment.

“so she hasn’ had the chance yet, then,” johnny jokes, and you roll your eyes. “chinese alrigh’ gaz?”

the other man nods, and the two soldiers fall into familiar conversation. you feel as though you’re intruding, and you attempt to slip out of the kitchen unnoticed, but gaz stops you by mentioning your name.

“I was just telling your sister that she’s not sleeping on the couch,” he tells johnny, and then his eyes slide to you. you look sheepish, like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

“oh, o’course not,” johnny agrees. “I can take the couch, she’s my sister.”

“we could switch, yeah?” kyle looks at johnny. “that couch isn’t that comfortable, mate. I don’t wanna be hearin’ you complain about your back in a few days.”

johnny laughs, but nods. “sounds good. looks like you’re livin’ the life then, aye?” he says to you, and you open your mouth to speak, but kyle beats you to it.

“actually, we were just talking about all that. your lovely sister here was saying she’d like to keep the flat clean.”

“s’that so?” johnny questions, eyebrows raised as he looks at you. “y’don’t have to do that.”

“I want to, johnny. it’s the least I can do after barging in on your lives.”

you can tell by the look on your brother’s face that he’s going to argue, so you swiftly cut him off.

“no arguments! it’ll give me something to do anyways.”

johnny concedes, then excuses himself to shower. you tell him you’ll order the food as he leaves the kitchen.

you and kyle are alone again, and his eyes are trained on you. you clear your throat before fishing your phone out of your pocket.

“what’s your order?” you ask him.

kyle grins. he knows what he’s doing to you.

god, this was going to be an interesting stay.

—————————————————

author’s note:

this is my first time really writing both johnny and Kyle, so I apologize if they seem ooc!

[wishfuldivine]

Gaz feeling like an outsider after Soap's death?

Gaz was never a man to open up about his inner wounds. He was such a private and prideful person about his feelings, achievements and his family.

His emotions were always in check. Never letting the pressure of the battlefield and near death experiences detoriate his strong spirit and mind. And if he did, he would bounce back quicker than a cheetah. That was, until that unfortunate day when everything went to complete shit.

Soap was gone.

His best mate was absolutely gone. And it was insufferable to go on like this without him around. The Scottish lad's absence is very evident in not only the 141 but also the entire base. A rather quiet and gloomy atmosphere surrounding it. Staff and soldiers filled with heavy hearts as they knew the need to continue on was a must.

The ones not really doing well apart from Gaz were both Price and Ghost. The lieutenant had completely shut down once back from that painful mission. Ever the collected and serious person, broken down. He wouldn't look at anyone in the eye. Would avoid ever interacting with people unless it was about a mission or being fussed over by Gaz. He wouldn't come out of his room back at the private barracks. And at times, when Ghost didn't know that Gaz had gone out for a late walk, how did his heartwrenching sobs be heard.

Price wasn't faring very well either. But he had some composure as the captain of the Task Force. He tried and tried many times again to keep everything as minimum as possible.  But who was he kidding? Everything was too much for him. It went as far as blaming himself for the death of Soap. They had Makarov in their hands, and he practically let him slip away through his fingers. His stupidity led to the death of someone very dearly. It cost him a lot more than he can bargain. There would be days when he was consumed by his paperwork in an effort to distract himself from the cruel reality that one of his own is forever gone.

And Gaz? Gaz had noticed how he, himself, entered a state of inner turmoil. On one end, he tried to come into terms with the huge loss. Trying to help Ghost and Price like a mother hen by being there for them in the best way he could. Always the selfless one out of the team. But on the other, he felt like he was bending over backward and was at his wits' end.

He wished he knew how long this would continue. How far more will he be in this mixture of feelings that left him in complete distraught. And what made matters far worse is that neither Price nor Ghost noticed, and he had begun to question his importance.

[wxnheart]

Hello wonderful author. May I mayhaps request a ghoap + reader NSFW peice please. Maybe one that focuses on how Simon loves to make the reader watch him and Johnny 👉🏽👈🏽, or maybe it's reader taking control and making Ghost watch 👀. Johnny deserves a reward mayhaps.

Lol that one request that was like "mm ghoap" had me thinking things

Also keep up the good work! I like being able to sit back and relax and read your stuff!

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐚, 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐚𝐩𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

...Because who watches the Ghoapwatchers? (the title may or may not have been an excuse to use this. please don't judge me. a lot. lmao)

Simon smoking can mean one of three things: he's anxious and/or pissed, he's just had some good fucking sex, or... he's anxious and/or pissed. And Simon is pissed.

At whom, might you ask? Well, rejoice, baby, because it ain't you this time even though he still wants to chuck that Live, Laugh, Love sign out of the fucking house. No. Simon's ire is reserved for Johnny, your resident killer Golden Retriever, and only Johnny.

And why, might you ask? Well, your cutie patootie lover boy happened to go and get himself hurt on the latest assignment. A routine one, goddamnit. It was unnecessary. Completely and absolutely unnecessary. And un-fucking-acceptable. At least in Simon's eyes.

Johnny argues that it was only a scratch (he's slightly downplaying it) but Simon doesn't give a fuck because only a scratch doesn't cut it. You got hurt, Johnny. End of story. And Simon's anxiety is through the fucking roof right now so a smoke has to suffice. But it doesn't. Nah, not this time.

Simon who puts out the last of his cigarette while staring Johnny down. You don't know what to do so you keep quiet until he tells you to take a seat next to Johnny. You started to protest until a single look made you shut the fuck up.

Simon who straddles Soap. Because what the fuck? Johnny would put up a fight if not for the fact that the bigger man has him pinned down and... oh. Oh shit. Their dicks are aligned. Wait, wait, Lt.—

Simon who starts to slowly grind against Soap's lap, eyes burning holes into the smaller man's. Soap feels the telltale signs of arousal, that fiery pit in his groin, and your eyes widen at what's taking place. Oh, yes. Johnny's about to get fucked silly in a second. You knew from experience.

Soap whose brow furrows the harder he gets and Simon doesn't stop. Knowing the fucker is just as hard as he is and FUCK—"Lt., wait, I—" "What did you tell me, Johnny?" Ghost doesn't stop grinding against him, doesn't do shit but grind and stare meanwhile Soap's falling apart at the seams. If his mind wasn't turning to mush, he'd be pissed but goddamn.

Simon who forbids you from touching yourself because the last thing you're gonna do is get your rocks off alone. You actually do protest this time ("Simon, what the fuck?") and Simon cuts a look at you, the same look he gave Johnny. The same look that tells you he's gonna fuck you just as silly when he's done with lover boy here. Aw, shit.

Soap whose words are lost to his moans and he's well on his way to soaking the crotch of his pants. And Simon doesn't stop. Not at all. Simon continues and it's like he's expecting an answer. "What did you tell me, Johnny?" Ghost emphasizes it with a particularly rough grind this time, enough for Johnny's already sensitive and leaking dick to throb and oh, god, Lt...

"I—shit, I—said I'd be—I said I'd be careful, Lt." Attaboy, soldier. "...Were you careful, Johnny?" The friction is too much. Simon rubs against him faster, puts a little more pressure on him, and it's a miracle he can even talk let alone think at this point. You're biting your lips, wringing your hands because you wanna touch. Yourself, them, it doesn't matter. You wanna touch and suck and fuck and... suck, fuck, and touch some more.

"Were. You. Careful. Johnny?" Punctuated with his hips. Every. Single. Word. And poor, poor Johnny, lost to the lust. Almost close, what the fuck are you doing to him, Lt.? "—NO," he manages to choke out in between gasps and moans and shit, he feels it coming—

—Well, he felt it coming because just as soon as he answered Simon, the mean bastard got up. Got up and left Johnny hard, crotch soaked with precum, and "What the fuck, Lt.?!"

Simon whose stare is both placid and intense; you'd be forgiven for thinking he's nonplussed. Except there's an obvious tent in his pants. Simon who stares you both down before simply saying "Bedroom." And he walks off. He doesn't look back. Doesn't have to. You'll be there. He's got you right where he wants you.

Soap who doesn't miss a beat, grabs your hand, and pulls you alongside him. Right behind Simon. Right to the bedroom. Yeah, it's about to be a long fucking day. And night.

[pettyprocrastination]

Okay hear me out.

Ghost and Necro drunk shenanigans. Potential to be hilarious, smutty and heartbreaking.

I’m prepared to have my life ruined by you. It would be my greatest honour.

(Alexa, play “In the Arms of an Angel, by Sarah McLachlan”)

this became more angst than drunken foolishness so I apologize but I hope you enjoy notheless!!

an: I played very fast and loose with the COD lore in this one. Imagining that task force 141 has a local base they stay/operate at between deployments/missions which im assuming is not the case. also that some of them go to a big formal event which is kinda a military ball but also a chance for networking asking for money yadd yadda. anywhoo

-----

     Simon doesn't drink. Not to the point of utter inebriation anyways. 

    He likes to be in control of his body. When the team inevitably drags him to the pub or he finds himself in a meeting with some staunch official that toast with whiskey for a “Job well done” he limits himself to two drinks so that he can always be aware of his surroundings. 

    He calls it risk calculation. You know that it’s from a memory he has yet to share with you. 

   That’s why the bourbon you gifted him still hasn’t been opened. An expensive bottle you handed him one night in his room with a halfhearted shrug of “work has been shit lately, though this would be nice.” That meant more than you said but he knew words like that were hard for you to force out, so he took the bottle and kissed your cheek, tucking it in the cupboard of his room on base until the proper moment to share it with you. 

     You decided to make that decision for him, evidently. 

    Simon opens the door to his room to find you sprawled out on his bed. Dressed in a floor length gown with one shoe kicked off, nursing the cup in your hand. You look up at him and for a moment he wonders if he had forgotten something important. 

     “You didn’t show up.”

     Ah, that. 

     Simon clicks the door shut behind him and steps toward you.

   ” 'Told you I wasn’t going to.”

     The military ball. 

     You take another sip from the bourbon and nod. “Yeah I know.” Simon shuffles forward, shoulders hunching down as he sits on the foot of the bed. 

     “But Soap was hoping you’d change your mind.”

     He hums. “Was he now?”  

     “Yeah.” You draw out the word ever so slightly as you speak. “He was hoping to catch a dance with you. But I told him he shouldn’t hold his breath, y’know? Didn’t want to get his hopes up.”

     Simon smiles. God you’re drunk. 

     “That was very kind of you.” 

     With gentle hands he undoes the metal clasp around your ankle and tugs your foot free from the last heel before running a scarred palm up your calf, squeezing and rubbing the muscle and making you melt in the process. 

     You stretch out with a content sigh. Simon notices the slit in your dress, stretching up to the mid point of your thigh. 

    “This is a nice dress.” He massages the tattooed skin of your leg and watches you grow pliant under his hands. ‘Y’know, Necro. You're like a cat’ he had told you one night, when the pair of you were the only ones awake. ‘all i need to do is keep you fed and rub you the right ways and you get all sweet on me.’ 

    “How come you haven’t worn this for me before?” 

     ‘But you also might scratch me to hell if I piss you off.’

     In a flash, you rip your leg from his grasp and turn around, curling up into yourself and spitting out. “I did. Tonight.” 

     You’re angry at him. He knows it despite the fact that he told you he wasn’t going to go and you said ‘alright’ without a single complain but now you're a brooding ball of drunken mumbles and sad eyes that he can’t seem to understand. 

     “For what it’s worth, I would’ve been a shit date.” 

     No movement. 

     “Don’t even own a suit.”

     “Then rent one, cheap-ass.” 

     Simon snorts. “Alright, you’ve got me there.” He pulls himself onto the bed completely, slowly laying himself down behind you and setting a hand at your waist. 

     “Can’t dance to save my life though. You’d have to deal with these monstrous fucking feet crushing your toes all night, love.” 

     Your unwrap yourself and let your hand reach out and intertwine with his. 

     “Maybe that’s what I wanted.” 

     Simon grins. “Yeah? You wanted me to step on your feet all night? Doesn’t sound very fun to me.” 

     “I wanted you to be there with me, Simon.” 

     Your voice is small. One that has always been strong with a command or dry with banter was now wet and trembling as if on the verge of shattering completely. 

    Simon pulls you to his chest and takes a shaking breath against your neck. 

   “I know, love. I’m sorry.” 

     Simon Riley imagines you at the ball and his heart breaks. 

     You're all dolled up, looking like a fucking dream to anybody who lays eyes on you but nobody at your side. Nobody for you to put a hand on their arm and drink champagne with. You stayed close to the others, he bet. Soap and Price taking turns on the dance floor, Price had rhythm and a subtle charm that would have you laugh and for a moment, you’d stop watching the door in hopes that he would show up. 

     But the night goes on your hope dwindles into nothing. 

     The truth is, Simon wanted to go. God he wanted to be there more than anything in the fucking world. 

     He wanted to rent a suit that would probably be a touch too tight because his shoulders were too big and get a haircut the week of because Simon wants to put int he work for you. He wants to walk in by your side and ignore the whistles and hollers of his subordinates, hold your tiny purse or whatever the fuck its called when you get a drink and spend the night dancing with you, despite his lack of rhythm but you’d smile anyways. At some point you’d slap his chest with a harsh hiss of “Simon we are in public” Because he kissed you with a bit too much tongue to be appropriate in a public setting but the dress you're wearing hugs your body so perfectly its drawn wandering eyes and he needs them all to know you belong to the fucking Ghost of task force 141 just as much as he belongs to you. 

     But he’s scared. 

    Christ, he’s fucking terrified. 

     To love you in public. To go out with you at his side meant letting the whole world know that he loved you and needed you and that put a target on your back. 

     Just as it did for Tommy and Beth and sweet little Joseph. 

     He knows your strong. Christ, he’s seen it with his own two eyes. You have just as much blood staining your hands as him but Simon has learned what life is with you in it and he can’t fucking go back to one without you. 

     “I’m not-” You take a shaking breath and sniffle. Fuck, he hates himself for making you feel this way.

     “I’m not good at this, Simon.” 

     He presses his lips to the small of your neck. If you feel his tears drop onto you, you say nothing of it and he’s grateful. 

     “Neither am I.” 

[charcadett]

Requesting some Larry fluff!! ^^

A rare Sunday morning together, and Larry and his s/o taking a nice warm shower together, with a few kisses and cuddles thrown in for food measure, whilst helping each other out. I suppose a NSFW tag might be necessary in this situation? You don't have to go into too much detail though!

I love your writing as always! ❤️❤️

Okay, this is SFW and might be a tad sillier than you may be expecting, but I hope you still enjoy it! I think Larry deserves to be a little goofy. As a treat.

While this is SFW, Larry’s ass it out in general. Because you know. Shower.

SFW Showering With Larry Headcanons

- Larry’s apartment is a bit of a bachelor pad. His bathroom is very bare bones, with only a shower liner, no curtain, a single bath mat, and usually missing a towel. It’s not uncommon he forgets to bring one in with him. You stopped bothering to count how many times you’ve had to hand it to him after one of his infamous hour-long showers. Sometimes you wonder if he drowned. Despite this, he does take care to buy expensive shampoo and conditioner. He likes to smell good.

- Admittedly, the first time you shower together is to save time. You’re both running late for work and smell a bit ripe. Larry suggests it, surprisingly, though he’s quick to assure you it’s for efficiency's sake. It’s cramped, his shower’s a bit small, and you have to sidle around each other to get to the water or Larry will completely block the stream. You make it work with no complaints from Larry and only two fits of laughter from you. (He thought it’d be funny to pretend like he doesn’t notice you trying to get around him to rinse out your hair.) After that first time, it becomes a bit of a routine.

- He gets distracted in the shower. The warm water makes his brain shut off. You have to remind him to get out before he falls asleep standing up. You’ve found that’s easier to do if you’re in the shower with him, quite the genius excuse you do say so yourself. Not that you needed one, he would have agreed anyway. I hope you like hot water because Larry always turns the temperature as high as it can go.

- “Do you always bathe in lava?”

- He huffs a little laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll stand here until it cools off.”

- “I’m covered in soap, move it. I don’t think you’re funny!” You totally do. Good luck. He’s like a brick wall.

- Wash his hair and he’ll happily return the favor. He’s very thorough, gently massaging your scalp as he evenly distributes the shampoo. Partway through, he’ll slowly make his way to your neck and upper back. Rubbing circles against your tense muscles, you can hear him hum contentedly behind you as you melt into his touch. Larry won’t deny he likes to be taken care of, but what he likes even more is to return the favor. You’re so good to him. It’s only fair he treats you the same. Preferably better. You don’t have to do any work, Larry makes sure you’re cleaner than you’ve ever been before.

- When you think of Larry, the last word that comes to mind is playful. Splash him with water, however, and you’ll come to find how wrong you are. That’s not something he’ll take lying down. He’ll get a glint in his eye, one you don’t recognize, turn to face the water, and the next thing you know he’s just spewed a mouthful of water directly at you. Of course, you retaliate with an even bigger mouthful of water. The cycle continues until you’re laughing too hard to get him again and the floor looks like a small lake.

- That, or it finally ends when spitting at each other turns into minor roughhousing. You, trying your absolute hardest to access the shower head, while Larry refuses to move. It’s not fair, he’s hoarding ammo. Isn’t that a war crime? He’s holding you by the shoulders, his normally blank expression – it’s still rather plain to be honest – morphed into a small grin as you struggle to get past him. Neither of you bothers to think about how stupid this is considering his lack of a shower mat until Larry’s foot slips and he goes careening onto the floor. Completely naked and soaking wet.

- The rare time's Larry laughs, and I mean really laughs, it’s impossible to miss. He lets out a full belly laugh, straight from the gut. The only reason you don’t immediately call emergency services is because there’s no blood and Larry is almost in hysterics. He even snorts a few times. It’s cute.

[kinardscoffee]

But what if Chris just breaks? He just sobs over Buck's body, and no one knows what to do?

And a nurse whispers to Eddie, "Is that his son?"

And Eddie just nods. Because, yes, that is Buck's son. The Diaz boys are his found family, and it's in that moment that Eddie realizes his feelings for Buck just might run a little deeper than friendship.

I think he'll have discussions with various people about this feeling. Not necessarily saying that it's Buck, but he'll definitely want opinions.

Maybe that leads to these "dates."

Also, remember in Season 2 when that girl got her head stuck in the tailpipe and all the girls thought Buck and Eddie were hot?

Eddie said that they weren't his type. Honestly, I get it. They were clearly way too immature for him, but also, he could have said, "sorry, I'm married."

But he didn't.

And sure, maybe he didn't want people to know, but it would definitely be a valid excuse.

Also, Eddie mentions in one episode (it's late, and I can't remember when, lol) something about how he wasn't ready to get married or have a kid. He was in the military, and we don't know for how long, but I can totally see Eddie's dad saying that you marry someone if they get pregnant. Period.

We've heard references from Eddie that his dad was always saying things like, "Man up!" Or "don't be too soft."

A kid living with this his entire life would naturally want a job where he would both 1, seem manly and tough, and 2, create a safe distance between them. His dad wasn't around much so in Eddie's mind, being a "man" means having a wife, having kids, owning a house, and ultimately working your life away for those things.

I can't imagine how scared little Eddie might have felt knowing he was attracted to both men and women. Knowing he actually enjoyed cooking. Playing video games. Watching Soap Operas.

All of those things he does now.

And isn't it odd we barely saw Eddie kiss Shannon or Ana? He didn't even kiss Shannon or hold her when she died. He was upset, absolutely. I do believe he loved her. But he wasn't in love with her. He tries to make it work for Chris and the potential new baby.

Then there's Buck.

Who I honestly believe is Pansexual. Falling for the person is so Buck it's unreal. Notice he doesn't really approach Taylor in a flirtatious way until he believes she withheld the information about Bobby. As soon as he realized it wasn't her choice and she would have ran it, he shuts down pretty quick.

He clearly finds Eddie attractive. He basically said so when Maddie thought Chimney was cute, and Buck assumed she meant Eddie.

Then there's also that poker night with Maddie, Josh, Chimney, and Buck. Josh mentions that he thought Maddie was trying to set him up with Buck. Buck never says anything to have us believe that he wouldn't date a man. And Josh is an out gay man. Gay men know... they just do.

There's the situation where Buck loses Chris during the tsunami, and he's so upset. Not just because he lost Chris but also because he fears that Eddie will hate him. Buck calls Maddie absolutely devastated because he can't tell Eddie that he failed. And I think that this is an important moment becausee Buck has done things to upset multiple people, and he has never been afraid of the consequences. Only when it comes to Eddie does he panic.

I honestly don't know where I was going with this but in all seriousness, if they weren't always going for Buddie to happen in canon, they've been making some really crazy decisions when writing and filming. Like, I've watched a lot of shows that have close guy friends and their relationship dynamic is just completely fucking different than what 911 is doing.

So, take your own advice 911 writers, and man the hell up!

Give us Buddie or stop writing a fanfic slowburn. Your stan is showing.

[meraus]

Ghost has DID au

Takes place after events of cod:mw2(2022). Ghost knows he’s an alter and Simon doesn’t know he has an alter. Soap is at ghost’s place for reasons when he agitates ghost enough to pull off his mask and reveal Simon, who’s immediately hostile to this stranger that’s standing in his living room acting like they’re familiar. Soap thinks ghost is pulling his leg, but when he gets Simon to put the mask on and ghost comes back, he finds out just how real it is. Soap realizes ghost can’t possibly be cleared for duty, and ghost confirms soap is the first and only one to know.

Not a full fic, more a complete outline- lord know that will take so many more words and I’m not up for writing all of them. Written entirely in my notes app which doesn't recognize soap and ghost as names lol.

Ghost can suppress Simon for short amounts of time without the mask, but only if he’s prepared. So when one day they’re in the field facing hostiles and the mask comes off by accident, soap has to get to a severely freaked out Simon, in his experience a civilian dropped in an active war zone, before anyone notices. Or at least before Simon gets himself killed or ghost’s absence fucks the mission.

Where ghost grows fonder of soap, Simon starts seeing him as a bad omen. When Simon sees soap, shit has usually hit the fence and will only get worse, considering the quickest way to get ghost back seems to be to intimidate Simon into relinquishing control. This development of Simon wanting to avoid soap makes it significantly harder to bring ghost back in critical moments. Soap also struggles with the morality of letting it go on like this, enabling this set up ghost has created.

When he brings it up, suggesting ghost gets treatment, ghost immediately shoots it down. Simon also doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t even want to speak with soap. Trying to tell Simon what’s going on builds his anxiety and triggers ghost to take over. Enough repetition of soap forcing ghost back in causes him to become another trigger for Simon.

Soap doesn’t see Simon anymore, and doesn’t think he ever will again. Ghost doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want Simon there with soap, maybe doesn’t want Simon at all. He gets on fine, better even, when it’s just him. He likes what he’s got set up for himself and Simon compromises that. If the army ever finds out about Simon, everything he has will go away. And what does Simon even have for himself? He doesn’t have family, doesn’t have friends, doesn’t have a job or way to provide for himself. Hell, he doesn’t even know who he is or what he’s capable of. All Simon has is fear and memories of things best left forgotten.

So it works, right up until it stops working. Because the thing about soap is that he’s safe. He’s trustworthy, reliable, on his way to become a better man than ghost’s ever been or can hope to be. If soap is there, if the environment allows it- ghost can drop his guard. He thought it just meant being able to sleep on transport and the like, but soon finds out that sometimes what feels like sleep to him is just Simon being shoved back to the forefront.

The first time, they’re in a car with two other people. Soap hears ghost mutter an expletive, sounding taken aback. It puts the others on high alert immediately, and himself as well, but for a different reason. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, no imminent danger, ghost doesn’t sound like this usually, and when he snaps his head around to look at ghost, he can see the switch clear as day. Simon is occupying the body even with the mask on. Soap covers for Simon’s slip up and silently warns him to keep his mouth shut until they can figure this out.

Through these moments of unplanned control, Simon slowly starts learning about his other side. Ghost and Simon don’t blend together, it’s more like both of them are breaking each other down. It’s messy and more importantly, dangerous. Ghost decides he needs to cut soap off, for his own well-being. Simon decides he needs to keep soap close, to guide him through the unknown and fill in the blanks.

It’s a losing battle for ghost. He can’t very well cut clean ties with soap- they’re on the same team, always in the same places, always having to share information. And besides that, soap is… he’s soap. He’s who ghost would consider his closest friend and ally. He doesn’t want to cut soap off, even if he needs to. And considering soap isn’t planning on going anywhere, cutting him off would mean uprooting the life he’s built so far. The best course of action, ghost decides, would be to somehow kill Simon off forever.

Simon, however, isn’t eager to go. Not at all. Maybe once, when he had nothing and not a clue about the world he was living in, he was easy to keep down. Now, though, he feels he has a place in the world. People who admire and respect him, even if it’s not really him they’re looking up to. And maybe even if he doesn’t know entirely how to keep that, earn it for himself, it’s alright. He’s comforted by knowing he’s got a good friend in soap, helping him to find out.

Soap doesn’t want to help him there, though. He can’t risk it. Simon can’t do the things ghost can, even if he has the muscle memory, he doesn’t have the instinct or training. Simon is a liability in the field, and through him, so is ghost. Soap is more pressured than ever to tell their captain what’s going on and in doing so betray the trust of his best friend- both of him. Ghost switches to Simon during a mission and it gets people killed.

Soap comes to a breaking point and he confronts ghost. They have what would be a shouting match, if there wasn’t a need for discretion. Punches are thrown and threats are made. Ghost does things he wouldn’t normally do to preserve who he is, fully seeing the irony in it but not knowing another way to achieve his goal. Soap and ghost break apart, much to the dismay of Simon. Soap is avoiding him now, regardless of which him he is. He’ll only do what’s mission critical and leave it at that. Simon finds it’s much harder to be in ghost’s shoes when he’s not told where and how to walk. The only upside is that what’s wrong with ghost gets blamed on whatever’s going on between him and soap.

When it’s Simon’s turn to confront soap, he gets told if he can’t handle it, then do them all a favor and stop trying to be ghost. The stakes of his fight for dominance with ghost get laid out for him. Simon already knew, but he never truly realized, as he does what he’s always done when it becomes too much; he makes ghost deal with whatever is too difficult for him. Simon doesn’t want to do that anymore. He realizes if he wants to live, he needs help. He needs to destroy ghost. The prospect is frightening and thinking about it allows ghost easy access to slip back in, overhearing soap’s words meant for Simon. He realizes he’s done for if Simon gets control again, so he clings to consciousness, digging his nails in until they break.

Ghost is reckless. He’s purposely putting himself in danger, going out of his way to scare Simon into obedience. If it’s too much, he won’t come out. Maybe if he finds the absolute limit of what his psyche can handle, paralyzes his other with fear, Simon will never want to return. He’s aware that he has no way out. If he slips up, he dies. It’s just a question of where and how.

Soap can’t do it anymore. He curses ghost for letting him find out, putting this responsibility on him, putting him between a rock and a hard place. He informs the captain of ghost’s condition, even knowing he will also face consequences for keeping it hidden. When asked how long he knew, he answers ‘a while’. When Ghost gets dismissed, he is also asked how long soap knew. He says soap only just found out.

Life for ex-military personnel with a dismissal on grounds of a pre-existing condition is rough. Even more so when the years of combat are marking your skin like a neon sign reading ‘danger’. Ghost gets a few weeks of psychological help and no benefits. Price can’t do much for him there, it’s bureaucratic bullshit- a one size fits all solution that lets the army wash its hands clean of him and his problems. He’s saved up a nice sum, but not enough that it’ll let him go into early retirement. Not that he’s the type for retirement, anyway. He doesn’t know what to do with himself out here. Going home- if you can call it that- between mission is fine. He doesn’t have to stick it out long. It’s different now that he actually has to settle. He considers letting Simon figure it out.

Simon who got them into this fucking mess, never actually considering what his actions will do to them because he’s never had to deal with the consequences of them before. Simon, who’ll probably get so overwhelmed by it that he might finally decide it’s best to put ghost in charge, after all. Active war zones couldn’t cut it, but the realization that beyond that the only thing awaiting them is the monthly psychiatrist bill and endless jobs applications without response might do the trick. Even if the thought amuses him, even if he starts considering dying might be best after all, he still clings to control. It’s his own fault anyway, for showing soap, for not being able to keep it under control afterwards. Soap, he thinks, who he’s never going to see again.

But he’s wrong. There’s months of radio silence between them, and then suddenly soap is on his doorstep. He hadn’t texted or called, despite having ghost’s number, just shown up. Soap takes one good look at him and knows which him he is. Ghost looks back and for the first time in months he feels his control slipping. He’s about to tell him to get lost and slam the door in soap’s face, but before his mouth can form the words, soap asks him why ghost covered for him. Why didn’t he face consequences for helping ghost cover up his medical status?

Really, there’s only one answer. The same answer that has ghost step aside to let soap in. It’s because he’s not done right by soap, and soap didn’t deserve to get any shit for or from ghost.

They catch up. If it were an interrogation, ghost would be in the hot seat. He’s got more to tell and the majority of what soap’s been through can’t be told. In that afternoon they find a new foundation. It’s brittle and shaky, careful not to touch on the important pieces, the things that need to be said, because saying them wrong could have the whole thing collapse, but it’s something. Soap sticks around, coming back every time between deployments, and they have something.

Ghost finds a life again. It’s not satisfying, it’s not something he thinks he’ll ever gets used to, but it’s his and it’ll do. He picks up some dangerous jobs to keep Simon at bay, but it’s not enough. He’s comfortable, he’s got it figured out, and he’s terrified. He’s the alter. If Simon comes out again and settles in this cushy life, he loses it all again. He can’t let Simon take this from him. He actively works against his treatment, stopped going at all in the last few weeks. There’s things that are his that he’s desperate to keep. There’s soap on his doorstep every few months, smiling at him wide and calling his name.

And that’s the most pressing issue. He keeps slipping around soap. The time he wants to be in his body the most is the time he feels the least solid in it. He thinks Simon wants soap, too. Not like ghost does, though. He doesn’t crave him with an edge of desperation, ghost knows, because he hasn’t lost yet. If Simon wanted it bad enough, he could win the struggle.

He takes up sparring with soap. If his adrenaline is high and his body goes into combat mode, it’s easier to keep Simon down. He puts on his face mask and takes soap down to the gym he frequents. The employees greet him by his name, what they think is his nickname, just as everyone else does.

He knows soap will press the issue, yet he’s still not prepared for it when it happens. Soap asks him if he’s just going to continue like this, if he’s planning to never let Simon out again. Ghost is honest with him, to a degree. He tells soap he doesn’t want to give up what he has and that Simon will erase him and take it for himself. He says Simon doesn’t deserve it.

Soap reminds him he’s in the best place he’ll be to figure himself out. Maybe he won’t be erased, maybe he’ll be merged. There’s no way, he says, that ghost can just cease to exist. Soap doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Ghost knows he doesn’t, because he’s spend hours researching it. There’s too many unknowns, too many likely to happen worst-case scenarios. There’s a dread that seeps in when he thinks about not having his life for himself.

What then, soap asks, is so important that it can’t be shared? Ghost hesitates to answer. This is the part of their foundation that can’t be touched, for fear it’ll break. It’s the part they’re always stepping over, have been for years, even when all was right with them and soap didn’t know Simon.

Ghost is in love with soap. He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to risk it. What they have is enough, it’s a lifeline he can’t afford to cut. Still, with the pressure on him, with soap in his face and trying so hard to do what he thinks is best for ghost, with the thought of ‘what if’ plaguing his mind, he confesses.

Soap physically, noticeably, backs down. He’d known, on some level, that ghost felt this way about him. He was different to ghost, special, it was obvious in how they interacted with each other. He’d caught ghost looking at him, not in an indecipherable way, but clear as day in a way he told himself must be his wishful thinking. Soap can pretend it’s not there, even when he looks at ghost that same way, even when ghost’s undivided attention makes his whole body tingle with excitement, a moment where he thinks if he reaches out then ghost will meet him halfway.

Even so, soap can’t reach out. He feels if he tries, ghost will live up to his name and soap’s fingers will go right through. Ghost isn’t a person, so much as a personality. How am I supposed to love you back, he asks ghost, when you’re like this? There’s no security- ghost can disappear at any time. It would be a constant state of dread, a form of torture where he thinks he’d much rather gets his teeth pulled. Soap wants to say yes so bad, he’s a risk-taker anyway, in his line of work he could die at any time, so why wouldn’t he just dive in head-first? But if he did, it’d be unfair to ghost- to Simon- either of them. Both of them. Ghost can’t progress if soap holds him back. Figure yourself out, he tells ghost, and then tell me again.

Soap deploys again. Ghost, like before, is unsure if he’ll see him again. He curses Simon, breaks the mirrors in his house, hates the face they reflect back at him. Ghost is at his lowest point, and Simon takes over.

Simon has no clue where he is, ghost had moved to a new place, more suitable for full time occupancy. He snoops around and discovers what ghost has been up to. He makes a new appointment at the psychiatrist.

The woman who greets him wears a friendly smile and says she’s glad to see ghost back. When Simon tells her she might have to wait a bit longer on that, actually, her smile turns from friendly to beaming.

I don’t actually know shit about dissociative identity disorder and the treatment so I’m not dipping my whole toe in for this part, consider everything I say on the topic to be absolute trash for realism BUT Simon makes progress. A fair amount, really. He does his best to settle into the life ghost set up, confronts the trauma that created ghost in the first place, and discovers trauma he wasn’t responsible for acquiring. He has memories now that don’t feel like his own. He flips back and forth between himself and ghost and the lines get blurred. The more he learns, the more he feels sorry for ghost. As well as a strange type of guilt. He viewed ghost as his adversary when he learned of him, but really he was a scapegoat. A crutch Simon has depended on for so long that even he feels it’s unfair to call himself the host. He still has trouble seeing ghost as a part of himself, but the more he dips into his psyche, the more familiar he becomes.

Ghost is a whole person, Simon realizes. That’s why it’s so difficult to work with him. He’s complex and intricate and it’s not just a detached caricature of what Simon as a child thought a tough guy should be. Every time he connects with things that are distinctly ghost, it’s overwhelming.

Ghost doesn’t fight him when he goes looking, Simon feels like he’s almost showing off. But that’s not entirely right, if there’s one thing that defines ghost it’s his need to remain unknown. Simon doesn’t know why ghost is letting him access all of it without push back, until he digs too deep. He touches on a memory that seems recent, it’s in his new place and soap is there. The words sound like gibberish and it’s not a clear picture. When he tries to focus on it, suddenly he’s shoved out. It’s not the easy pull he’s become used to, the feeling like reality shifts and everything becomes hazy. It’s like getting pushed off a cliff and landing on a rock.

The psychiatrist asks ghost what happened there. He’s not ready for that, ghost tells her, he’s missing the pieces that make it come together; he needs to earn it first. And ghost, surprisingly, helps him. Sometimes, it’s like he’s being fed pieces, things he didn’t go looking for just appear before him. Every time he gets that feeling, he sees soap. Simon realizes that’s the thing ghost really wants him to understand; why soap is important.

He’s noticed before that ghost has many memories he doesn’t really care for, victories and milestone anyone else would hold dear. What he's careful with is his memories of people. Simon has to be delicate when he encounters a person whose name he knows but never learned, but even then soap is a special case. Memories of gaz and price come flowing in seemingly randomly order, but almost everything soap-related is chronological. Like ghost is telling him it’s important to get this one exactly right, really understand.

They work at it for a year and some months, and Simon understands ghost now. He still can’t fully see ghost as himself, but he’s not a separate entity either. It’s like they’re opposite sides of the same coin; different on the surface level, but ultimate the same. They’re through with almost everything ghost deems important, and that means he can’t stretch for time any more. Simon has a good feeling he knows what this final memory of soap is, the one he touched on too soon and hasn’t been allowed near since.

He feels the hesitancy in his own mind to dig it up. He feels exactly what ghost is feeling when he recalls it. It hurts. It’s elation turning to horror turning to grief and a cocktail of other emotions swirling around in him. And it’s the missing piece of the puzzle. It’s why ghost wanted him to understand after fighting him for so long. It’s the turning point that allowed Simon control. They’ve been doing all of this because if they live, they want a future, and he’s in love with soap. Ghost, Simon, either and both, just him. He’s in love with soap. He wants a future with soap in it.

It’s been too long for him not to realize soap must've come back from deployment without going to see him. He’ll have to take the initiative. He opens his contact information and goes into the text window. He knows he can’t text this, but he’s afraid to call. Besides, who knows if soap can even call, or what time zone he’s in. Their last message exchanged was over two years ago. The anxiety is eating away at him. What if soap’s given up on him? What if he took too long? What if he’s not adequately recovered, and soap rejects him again?

It takes him another few days to send a message. A curt and demanding ‘let’s talk’. He send another text, this one reading ‘please’. He drops his head in his free hand and groans. He should’ve waited another few days and come up with something good.

Soap texts him back hours later, waking him up by the distinct ping of a new message. Blending with ghost unfortunately also meant taking over his annoying, paranoid, militant habits, like any unexpected noise stirring you awake. Soap texted him ‘now?’. Simon replies ‘what works for you’. His phone rings right after he sends it.

The conversation lasts over an hour. Simon bites through the anxiety of sharing his personal life when he doesn’t know where he stands with soap and tells him how the treatment has been, how it’s going, what life is like, everything he deems important for soap to know. What might convince soap to come around again. Soap seems unsure of how to talk to him, too. But soap is good with people, he’s a natural conversationalist and he’s got his charm to fall back on. It’s not as bad as Simon feared it might go. Soap says he’ll stop by next time, though he doesn’t say when next time is.

Simon thought next time would be when he talks to soap again, but turns out that comes a lot sooner. Soap texts him the next day. A few days after that, they’re on a call again. Soap laughs more freely and becomes less guarded with every exchange and soon he’s saying stuff like how nostalgic it is to have ghost in his ear. Asks Simon to say some military shit, anything really. He laughs loud and long when Simon says, ‘how do two oceans greet each other?’. He hadn’t even said the punchline.

Soap also tells him how gaz and price are fairing, as well as sparse updates on Alejandro and rodolfo, who he’s still in contact with. Simon’s glad to hear about them. When ghost still had control, he’d been in contact, though always short messages and nothing meaningful. When Simon took over, he didn’t know how to talk to them. He barely knew them, didn’t really know anything about them. He’s come to know them through the memories and it’s a bittersweet feeling to know he has had these people in reach and kept them at distance. Though, now that soap opened the gate way, he starts receiving more wake up texts.

Then one day his phone stays silent. He slept through the entire night. It immediately sets him on high alert. He texts soap, and thankfully rather quickly receives a response. ‘Busy. In a bit.’ It reads.

In a bit turns out to be five hours, when there’s a knock at his door and there stands soap, smiling at him, saying ‘my schedule’s all cleared up now, so if you’re not-‘.

Simon interrupts him to say what he’s been wanting to say all this time, what he hopes soap has been waiting to hear. ‘I love you.’

And soap says, ‘I love you, too.’

[leosabi]

no hospitals

1.8k words

a fic about gently caring for my superhero partner's injuries. please read the warnings carefully!

CW: injury/blood, vague references to violence, depictions of panic/anxiety/OCD, a prescription drug that is commonly abused (Xanax; it is not abused in this fic, and the character has it as a prescription, but the word “drugged” is used and there is a vague description of its effects).

Leo startled awake, at what was assuredly the middle of the night, to a crash echoing through the apartment. 

His heart fluttered uncomfortably, scenarios running rampant in his mind. Wasabi hadn’t been home when Leo went to bed, but with the double life Wasabi lived, there was no guarantee that the source of the crash had been him returning. A few too many supervillains out there knew Wasabi’s identity. 

Leo took a knife out of the bedside drawer. Couldn’t be too careful. 

He tiptoed on his shakey, half-asleep feet towards the source of the crash, which seemed to be near the hallway—maybe the bathroom. He was proven right a moment later by the bathroom light spilling out into the hallway through a sliver in the door. 

Probably was Wasabi, then. No reason for an intruder to be investigating their toiletries.

Knife still clutched tightly in his hand, the handle leaving indents in his palm, Leo gently pushed open the door, bright lights stinging his dark-adjusted eyes. 

Inside the room was Wasabi, armor still on, sitting on the floor in front of…some kind of mess. 

“Hey,” Leo said, clicking the knife closed and shoving it in the pocket of his soft sweatpants before dropping to the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Dropped it,” Wasabi said. “And knocked over the…the…soap…thing.”

Leo observed the scene more closely. In front of Wasabi was their first aid kit, its contents scattered. Off to the left, beside the sink, was their ceramic soap dispenser—completely shattered, its contents spilled in a glob of shiny purple, slowly spreading towards the rest of the mess. 

“Hey, hey,” Leo said softly, “hey, what’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

“No, no it’s okay,” Wasabi said unconvincingly. “I just needed some gauze.”

“Are you hurt?” 

“It’s not that bad,” Wasabi muttered, shuffling around in the pile of medical supplies. “I-I’m sorry for knocking over the soap dispenser. It was really loud.”

“It’s okay,” Leo said, reaching for Wasabi’s still-gloved hands. He threaded their fingers together, squeezing, trying to steady the shaking. “Tell me what happened?”

“It was just a fight,” Wasabi said. “I swear it’s not that bad, I didn’t even know I was hurt until the battle was over and sh-she’d run off, and Baymax pointed it out to me. GoGo thought I should go to the hospital but it’s not even that bad I swear, please don’t make me go to the ER—”

“If I see it,” Leo began, squeezing Wasabi’s hands just a little tighter, “and you need stitches, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I don’t need stitches.”

“Prove it.”

Wasabi let out a long, hitching exhale, his eyes fluttering shut. He scooted away, his back hitting the wall of the bathtub, and Leo caught sight of it: a clean cut through his bodysuit and into his skin, dripping red.

It ran, diagonally, from the lower side of his ribcage, right where his armor ended, and nearly to his naval. Leo couldn’t tell how deep it was, but it was long. 

“I’ll be honest,” Leo said, lips quivering, “I’m a fraction of a second away from calling nine one one.”

“I will straight up break up with you if you do that.”

“The only reason that isn’t gonna work on me is because I know you’re bluffing,” Leo said. “Look—let’s get your armor off and then I’ll decide.”

“I…” Wasabi said. He swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Okay. I’m really sorry I said that, I just…”

“You’re panicking,” Leo finished. “It’s okay. You don’t deal with getting hurt very well. But work with me here, alright?”

Wasabi nodded.

Together, one piece at a time, they stripped Wasabi of his armor and placed it in the tub behind them, just to get it out of the way. Then they rolled down the upper half of his bodysuit—careful around the cut—and Leo sat in front of him, phone flashlight in hand, to get a better look at it.

It was almost surgical, and it took Leo very little time to realize who had done this to him.

I’m going to fucking kill her, Leo thought, briefly entertaining the fantasy; though he definitely didn’t have the ability to stand even half a chance against the supervillain.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Leo said, taking a few deep, deep breaths, feeling the oxygen fill his lungs and flow through his body. “I can’t really tell how deep it is, because of all the blood, so I’m gonna wash my hands, and then I’m gonna clean the cut. It’s gonna hurt. Do you want me to get you a plushie or something?”

Wasabi shook his head. “No,” he said, giving Leo his best puppy-dog eyes. “Don’t want you to leave.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Leo said. He looked at the broken soap dispenser, frowning, and then grabbed a bar of soap from his shower caddy. He washed up, and then knelt back down in front of Wasabi, a clean, damp washcloth in hand. “Are you ready?”

“I hate this.” Wasabi looked like such a sad, abandoned kitten that Leo just wanted to squeeze him.

“Angel…what do you want me to do? Even if I wasn’t checking to see if you need stitches, would you want me to bandage it without cleaning it?”

“No…” Wasabi frowned deeper.

“You’re not making this easy for me.”

“That’s because I hate this, and it’s making my OCD flare. That washcloth isn’t sterile,” Wasabi said, trembling slightly. “Your hands aren’t, either. This room isn’t. No matter what, it’s not gonna—OW! Leo!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, cleaning the cut as best as he could despite Wasabi violently flinching away from his touch. “I don’t like this either. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Wasabi appeared to be holding his breath as Leo went on. Thankfully for both of them, the cut was just long, not deep, and though it would probably be wise to take him to the hospital, Leo didn’t think it would be necessary—and it certainly wouldn’t be worth the panic.

Hospitals were full of bright lights, strong smells, and most pressingly, sick people. Wasabi was an absolute wreck whenever he needed to be in one.

Leo put the bloodied washcloth on the floor, reaching for the gauze and medical tape. Wasabi seemed to relax at the sight.

“No hospitals?” He asked as Leo began to gently plaster gauze to the cut.

“No hospitals,” Leo confirmed. Wasabi still felt tense under his fingers. “When I’m done I’m gonna get you some comfy clothes and a Xanax, okay? Maybe some Ibuprofen?”

“The Xanax is only for emergencies, though,” Wasabi protested.

Leo looked down at the wound he was bandaging, and then up at Wasabi, his eyebrows raised to his hairline. “I think we have different definitions of ‘emergency’, dear.”

“No, I mean like…for the panic attacks where I think I’m dying?”

“I won’t make you take it,” Leo said, gently rubbing the last of the tape to make sure it was fully stuck to Wasabi’s skin. “But I know the sterility of my hands and the washcloth are gonna bother you. More than bother you. And I just want you to be able to sleep, okay?”

Wasabi huffed a sigh. “I know you’re right,” he said, “I just don’t like taking it.”

“It’ll be okay,” Leo said gently. He pressed a kiss to Wasabi’s bare clavicle. “We’ll get you all comfy in bed before it kicks in, and things’ll be just fine by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” Wasabi leaned down to kiss the top of Leo’s head.

Leo’s lips quirked in a bare smile. “Which clothes do you want me to grab for you?”

“Mmm…” Wasabi hummed, thinking. “Gray sweatpants. Cinnamoroll shirt.”

“You’re adorable,” Leo said. “Cinnamoroll. Got it. Cinnamoroll, Xanax, Ibuprofen, cup of water. Anything else? Tea or something?”

“No,” Wasabi replied, “but thank you.”

Leo pressed one last kiss to the scruffy underside of Wasabi’s jaw before leaving. 

When he re-entered the bathroom, Wasabi was trying to clean up the remains of the ceramic soap dispenser. “No, no no, honey, it’s okay—“

“It’s gonna bother me. And I’m like, actually upset about it.”

Leo held up the bright orange prescription pill bottle in his hand and gave it a little shake. “That’s what the benzos are for. I’m gonna clean it up in the morning. You don’t have to see the mess while you’re in bed, and I don’t want you trying to clean while that cut is still fresh.”

Wasabi pursed his lips, looking up at Leo with a conflicted expression. 

Leo continued: “Is cleaning the mess right now more important than taking care of your body while it’s injured? What if you stress the injury and make it worse?”

“I really need you to stop talking.”

“Sorry,” Leo said. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Take your meds? Please? I’ll clean it up now if that helps, but I really just wanna sleep. It’s the middle of the night.”

Wasabi let out a frustrated noise, sitting back on his heels. “This is stupid. This is really stupid.”

Leo kneeled down beside Wasabi, handing him the glass of water and meds, clothes still tucked under one arm. “You’re okay. It’s okay. You’re tired and hurt and stressed, that’s all.”

Wasabi took the meds and water, swallowing one Xanax and two Ibuprofen. He let out a dejected sigh. “Are lobotomies still legal?”

Leo frowned. “Don’t say that.”

“It would be easier.”

“No it wouldn’t.” Leo handed him the clothes. “It would be harder and shittier and you know it.”

“It’s going in circles,” Wasabi said. “My head. I mean, it’s always doing that. But it’s worse than normal. Circles and threads and spiderwebs of horrible thoughts.”

Leo handed Wasabi his clothes. “Take a few deep breaths with me. The thoughts can’t hurt you. You’re an observer. They’re passersby. Deep breaths. In…out.”

Wasabi followed along. 

Eventually, he calmed—a combination of the breathing and the medication flowing through his system. Leo left him alone to let him get ready for bed, trusting he wouldn’t spiral, and when he finally climbed under the covers beside Leo, Leo felt indescribable relief. 

“I’m going to fucking kill her,” Leo whispered to the top of Cinnamoroll’s head. “I’m gonna cut her into tiny little pieces.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Wasabi mumbled, barely awake. “Actually, pretend I didn’t say that. No I wouldn’t. I’d rather not have to rescue you from her again.”

“That was one time.”

“One time too many.”

“It was really hot when you rescued me, though.”

“You’re,” Wasabi mumbled, nuzzling the top of Leo’s head, “the worst.”

They lapsed into silence for a long moment, until Leo broke it with: “Are you okay?”

“Sleepy,” Wasabi whispered, “foggy. I’m thinking through molasses.”

“But you’re okay?”

“I guess so.”

“Good,” Leo said. He looked up, a hand on the side of Wasabi’s face, brushing their noses together. “Can I kiss you? I brushed my teeth earlier, I promise. And just a peck, ‘cuz you’re drugged.”

Wasabi snorted. “Sure.”

Leo kissed him, short and sweet and chaste, thumb gently running along his cheekbone. 

“Sleep,” Leo whispered into the minimal space between them. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

[bemyhurricanexwriting]

|| Part One ||

Entry #1 June 6th

the news of the world ending didn't come to a shock to me, I noticed all of the signs, All i was worried about was how my son and I were going to survive mentally from here on out into the next few seasons.

Holy crap all of the questions I'll have to answer in the upcoming waking hours when he realizes that there's no school ever again., and can we hope that one day we will cross paths with our loved ones someday.

My eye are overwhelmed with the constant tears that flow down my cheeks. We don't know what caused everything to shutdown, but everyone in out community stuck together and we worked together to make sure our kids were fed and we even started a survival camp within the neighborhood.

Entry #2 June 7th

We ventured up north, we found and stocked the car up with as many spagetti o's as we could fit along the way, but we were only able to survive for a few more weeks, before we were completely out of supplies; so we packed up and left for supply hunting before venturing to our next destination in search of any chosen family may have survived, We gave our pets their best chance, I couldn't change my mind. I just couldn't It wasn't fair to them and they know that they were loved for their whole lives, and that we will always love them no matter what, and believe that we will meet again in another life.

Entry #3 Juneteenth; tent

Every millennial's dream has come true.. if only tiktok worked. The Walking Dead memes I could share. oh, social media how I miss you. I have to be strong for him though. If you're okay, he's okay, and if he's okay, you're still on your guard because you'll always protect him.

Entry #4 Juneteenth; tent #2

I finally got my road trip; We're halfway past Nashville, 21 miles past it in a town call Franklin. It was quite the place. I could have seen myself settling there before the world ended, now I have no idea where I see myself while I'm constantly feeling anxious about missing appts that we no longer have. We stopped at some diner that seemed to be opened as a pit stop for survivors and some of them lived in tents outside. Despite the world basically shutting down and ending and all, I was still healing from my previous trauma, and I didn't have my resources to help. There was no DV advocate to call me back in ten minutes when I decided to reach for help. I wish I used those as much as I wanted, I was so grateful for everyone and I wish I told them one last time. In the next life I suppose.

Entry #5 Father's Day; shower stall.

We weren't going to stay, that was until Jax asked me to stay for 1 night. We were staying for one night. We got a hot meal and washed up for bed, it was just one night.

I felt the hot water burn the back of my neck while massaging the soap throughout my hair, completely zoning out.

I forgot where I was when I heard a familiar voice, the sound of his voice, the voice that I had so wanted to wake up and go to sleep to every morning for the last eight years. The voice that came back into her life a million times just to disappear the next morning not sure if we would have another secret moment to ourselves.

I turned off the water and wrapped myself in my towel while I dried my hair with another one before brushing my hair. Once I was decent I went out seeing the love of my life standing there helping his daughter brush her teeth while I did the same.

Entry #6 Father's Day; back at tent.

"You're really not going to acknowledge that we know each other?" I looked at him still in a state of shock that he was even standing in front of me. "I'm glad you survived.." I told him spitting the toothpaste into the sink before I looked at him and smiled soaking in the energy between the two of them.

He either found me, or I found him. we always do this, have I learned nothing? Should I pretend not to know who he is to be polite? I quickly smiled grabbing some paper towels before leaving the bathroom and settled in the tent with poems of Longfellow before drifting off to a sleep.

[bangtangalicious]

soaked n’ slippery (m) | jjk

pairing: jungkook x f.reader

genre: smut, pwp, oneshot, loss of innocence, childhood friends to lovers, fluff

summary: a horny jungkook finds it hard to focus when you decide to join him in the tub

wordcount: 2.4k

tw: explicit smut, super NEEDY!koo, you know how it is, cumming untouched, unprotected sex, koo is super whiny and horny, begging, pleading, neediness, attachment issues, slight manipulation, masturbation, breast play bc kook likes tiddiez, assume legal age, bathtub sex! slight obsessive themes (cute/immature way not creepy), stuttering, feverish behavior, innocent!koo & reader, inexperience

a/n: this is a drabble inspired by this request. its part of the touch me wherever au but can be read as a standalone! | masterlist

“Y/n” Jungkook’s head flew back, hitting the edge of the tub as he hissed your name. Hand gliding up and down his cock, mind completely blank. Except for you. 

“It’s not FAIR” He yelled, tugging harshly at his length, wincing at the tight grip he was subjecting himself to. He didn’t want to jack off to you. He hated it. He wanted your hand on his cock. He wanted you to please him. It just didn’t hit the same, and if anything it just made him more frustrated. 

The way you’d look at him, eyes glinting with mischief whenever the two of you would mess around. He wanted to see those eyes. He wanted you. Now.

It wasn’t his fault he felt like this. As if you even left him with any options, what with the way you’d eagerly volunteer to sit on his lap so that your friends could have places to sit. Even then, the bumpy roads would have you bouncing your ass on his lap. He’d groan, burying his face into the side of your chest. Then you’d turn, smile at him and giggle. 

He’d drag you home, pull you into the bathroom. Skirt hitched high, panties cuffing your knees. He’d bend you over and slide his cock against you. A mumbling mess of words falling from his lips as he’d explain to you: 

“C-can’t...I c-can’t hold back. I need this”

He really couldn’t. Jungkook tried but he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. So instead, he’d rub them against your clit, feeling how drenched your little panties got whenever he did. 

Study sessions were spent humping one another like rabid animals in the corner of the library. Clothes on, voices hushed. He’d rut himself into your ass through his grey sweats, holding your breasts tight as he’d shush you, wiping his tears on the back of your shoulder. 

It was a pain like no other. His head pounding, body aching with the craving of you. You. You. You. You were all he could think of and it drove him insane. He just needed to touch you, to take in your scent like it was the only air he could breath. He wanted to hold you, to feel your skin hot against his own. His mind went haywire as he pumped harder. 

His grip tightened, tugging relentlessly at his length as he whined. He was so incredibly close. The end was in sight. The thought of you, oh your pretty lips and pretty eyes. 

"Oh Y/n...fuck...please Y/n please” He cried, eyes shutting as he felt tears building in them. He told himself it was because of the soap in his eyes but deep down he knew he just couldn’t bear the sensation of you. 

A soft tapping echoed through the room.

“Jungkook?”

He clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle his moans. Cock throbbing in his palm under the warm water as he inhaled sharply. 

“Hey Kook...can I come in? The other bathrooms are taken" 

Shuddering, he gulped. The dryness in his throat, evident as he called back. 

“Um. Y-yeah” 

He slid his back against the porcelain edge of the tub, sinking as deep as he could, hoping to hide the guilt flushing his cheeks. He heard the door open and shut. Footsteps getting nearer and nearer and nearer until--

Jungkook jumped. Feeling your soft hand on his bare shoulder. Suddenly your face was right there. Right next to him. Biting down on his lip hard, he looked into your eyes. Mistake.

He came everywhere.

You smiled at him brightly, blinking innocence, not noticing the white liquid shooting up beneath the soapy suds. Jungkook’s face was aflame. He was terrified. Ashamed. 

Wordlessly you began to kick off your leggings. Jungkook’s eyes caught by the skin of your thighs, unable to look away from the way your bright blue panties snuggly hugged your figure. 

It looked so...warm. He wanted to sink his teeth into the flesh. He wanted to bury his head between your legs and never leave. You must smell so good, the thought alone making his heart race. 

“W-what are you doing?” His voice was breathless. Under the water his cock twitched, begging for any stimulation, the tender warmth of the water acting as a reluctant tease. The pressure, overwhelmingly unsatisfying. 

You giggled. 

And then your top hit the floor.

You stretched your arms above your head, breasts jumping up. Jungkook gazed at you. Your body seemed to beckon him. Tempt him. Touch me. 

His fingers curled in tight fists, when really they wanted to grab at your chest. To squeeze everything they could hold. He wanted to see your flesh bulge between his grip, wanted to touch you everywhere all at once. 

His hand steadily made its way back over his cock as you struggled to peel of your panties, bouncing on one leg and almost tripping over in the process. Bent suddenly, Jungkook could enjoy a clear view of your ass, wiggling in front of him as you finally kicked off the flimsy garment. 

Sliding up he extended his hand helping you step over the edge and into the tub. It was a tight fit, the tub clearly not meant for more than one person. Nevertheless, you sank into his essence, suds shaping over every nook and curve of your silhouette.

He stared at you. Watching, jaw clenched tight, face about to burst, as you played with the suds. Taking a handful and gathering them over the top of your chest. 

His lungs tightened. He couldn’t breathe. 

Frictionless, your legs glided over his thighs. Smooth to the touch, he ran his fingers around your hips cautiously.

“Come here...” Gripping your waist, he pulled you flush against his chest. Your body smacked into his with ease. “I like this” In small circles, he pushed the suds up your back, massaging the soap into your soft, oh so incredibly soft, warm skin. “I like when you’re close to me. You're so w-warm and you smell n-nice”

You arched into him, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. You didn’t know his face was barely inches away from your chest. You didn’t know what to make of the hot prodding between your legs as you shifted your weight towards him. 

Jungkook felt like he could explode. Chest was rising and falling fast. Breath heavy with lust. The crook of your thigh catching his cock in a jerk of pleasure. It felt so good, being pressed up against you, but he needed something more. This? No. This wasn’t enough. 

Grabbing a handful of suds, he let them drip across your chest. You looked at him questioningly, but did nothing to stop him as his hands massaged the soap across your supple skin. 

Tugging and pushing at your chest with his large, hot hands. His fingers curved around them, squeezing them just barely. Then again and again, fingers flicking across your nipples. His face drew close. Sighing loudly he rest his cheek atop your racing heart. 

You liked it. You liked he feeling of his wet hair tickling the top of your chest. You shivered, his warm cheek traveling in small strokes, up and down your chest. 

He nodded his head, relishing your proximity, soaking in your heat. He rolled onto his forehead, nose pressing underneath your heavy breast. Now heaving with need. 

“You smell so g-good. Smell so good I can’t” His voice vibrated through your chest. “I love it. I love it Y/n I can’t stop thinking about it. You’re so pretty...body so soft just wanna t-touch you everywhere a-and kiss you everywhere and lick you and bite you and--” 

Your heart pounded, throbbing against every inch of your body. You were too preoccupied with the intoxication of his touch to notice his desperate grabs, kneading your ass. 

Slowly dragging your hips back. Just a tad. And then back up. Flush against him. Back and forth he pulled you, and unknowingly you began to widen your thighs. Just to feel him a little bit closer. “Yeah...yeah oh god, just like that. K-keep doing that, please come--come closer I--more” 

Your clit grazed against the thick skin of his cock. It was enormous, both in size and the way it pressed hard, provoking your hips. Making them stutter as you curled into him for more. Your arms around his neck, hand pulling his face into you--gasping. 

Jungkook began to grow impatient. You had pushed him right to the edge. He craved you, he needed to feel you, needed to be inside you. Eyes shot with lust, he didn’t know what he was doing, lip jutted and trembling.

Staring mindlessly at your breasts, he finally decided to take his tongue, one sharp flick had you clamping down.

“Jungkook” There was something in your voice. Something so wonderful that he loved to hear. A pained desire. A whimpering. The sounds leaving your lips only made him want you more.

His tongue swiped again, attacking your perky bud. You inhaled sharply, holding your breath as you looked down. Jungkook liked the way you reacted. So he did it again.

He sucked lightly, lips pressing against your nipple as he rolled the bud lightly between his teeth, tugging at it, coating it against his tongue, before letting you go with a smack of his lips.

“More” Sobbing, his hands pushed up your back, pulling you so close you were practically one. He shook his head, suffocating between your breasts before gasping for air. “I need more. I need, please, I can’t. I need it. It hurts so bad, oh fuck it hurts so bad I can’t do this...I w-want you...Y/n” 

Only you could make it stop. Only you could set him free.

Tears streamed down his face. Sniffling he reached between his legs, adjusting his cock so the tip nudged between your slick folds. The water made it easy, seamlessly he was able to sink into you. 

He pushed in a little, nails digging into your hips. He trembled, looking to make sure you were okay. Mouth wide open, eyes clenched shut. Burying your face into his neck, you held onto him tight as he went in a little further.

Your walls were tight. So incredibly tight. Jungkook groaned, what with the way your pussy clamped down on him, the sweet heat giving him surging pleasure as he pushed even deeper.

Just like that you were one. He was nestled inside you, panting heavily. Whines spilling from his parted lips. He latched onto you, rubbing suds all over your body, enjoying the way you twitched for him. Not able to get enough of you. 

And then his hips jerked up. Water spilled over the edges as he began to bounce you off of his hips, Splashing everywhere, you leaned forward onto his chest, whole body slick against him, effortlessly moving to the rhythm of his need.

“Ahhh. Right there! Right there y-yes pleas..ahhh feels so good Y/n I..I feel so good I literally feel so good don’t stop” He couldn’t keep quiet. Not when you fit him so perfectly. Not when your pussy gripped his veiny cock in a way that had him coming back for more. And more. 

“Don’t ever stop, please, please” He whined as though he were throwing a tantrum, completely and utterly taken by the sensation of you. Heat rose inside him, pulling you harder onto his cock so he could push further and further. The pressure feeling so good. The tightness. The wetness. And you. Pulsing over him. Wanting him just as bad. 

Meeting your eyes again, his gaze fluttered for a moment to your lips. They looked so delicious. 

So he kissed you. He kissed you softly, sighing into your mouth. Then harder, dragging his tongue over your lips before swallowing them into another kiss. He breathed you in. Heart trembling, body shaking as emotion made his brain circuit. 

You groaned into his mouth as he burst inside you, hot streams of cum filling you beneath the water. Simultaneously you surged, pleasure overtaking your every nerve. You trembled, twitching as he remained, balls deep inside, lips against yours, drinking in your every moan.

The two of you panted. Breath perfectly off beat. Your body limp against his own, sinking into half empty tub. Jungkook finally opened his eyes, seeing you, cutely buried into his chest. He stroked your shoulder fondly. Around you, the tiles were covered in water. The two of you had made an absolute mess.

He could feel you smile. See the shyness in your eyes when you looked up at him briefly before hiding your face away. He stopped you, hand cupping your cheek, pulling you up to him. 

“Can I kiss you one more time?” He whispered onto your lips. Nodding slightly, he wasted no time in slanting his mouth against yours. This time with less fire, instead, a softer, more tender touch. 

It felt just as good. If not better. Sighing he parted from you, unable to look away. “You’re just so pretty Y/n...you’re the prettiest girl I know”

“Can we do it again?” You pushed your chest up, letting him feel you. He caught on, smirking slightly as his palms slid over your breasts again, loosely tossing them in his hands. 

“Always. I always want you okay? Always wanna touch you like this” Nose tracing down your neck, he began to litter kisses all across your shoulders. You purred, covering his hands with your own to squeeze you harder. 

You leaned down, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, and were about to close in on his lips when suddenly--

Knock knock.

“Jungkook! Have you seen Y/n?” It was your father. Jungkook gulped, pulling your face into his neck to keep you quiet.

“O-oh, um, no! I was just finishing up in here. I-I can help you l-look for her, j-just give me a m-minute Uncle!”

“Alright. Thanks kid” He held his breath as the footsteps dissipated. Silently, Jungkook released his hold on you. 

Your eyes met briefly, worry-filled. Until the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, laughing heartily before your lips found one another again. 

a/n: thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed <3 

read the original here! touch me wherever 

scenarios: when you get a crush | when he takes your virginity | if he got you pregnant | kink discovery: dacryphilia |

drabbles: tickle me there | touch yourself here | wanna touch you

[arizona2004]

I just read your bat boys meeting so I was wondering if you write like headcannons or little blurbs? Scenarios like you and each of the boys and bathing with them? Soft and comfy and cozy and ugh I just love your writing!

Thanks! I hope you enjoy

Azriel

He would sit back against the tub and you would sit with your back to his chest, his arms wrapping around you

He leaves gentle kisses anywhere his lips reach:

behind your ear, along your neck, down your back, etc

He would want to wash your hair

And wouldn’t protest if you offer to wash his

Especially if it means you’re facing him and he can rest his hands against your ass lower back

The lights are always off and if it’s a quiet evening he’ll leave a window open and listen to the sounds of the city

Or classical music will play softly in the background

Azriel probably drinks wine and lights candles and has rules for bath time

No splashing

No playing

No talking

But he’d let you talk if you really wanted to. If you need to, but baths are for relaxing; no worrying

Mostly you two would sit in content silence

He would lay his head against your shoulder while you sit against his chest and just breathe the scent of you in

He always loved the time he spent relaxing in a bath but loves it, even more, when you relax with him

You two would sit there until the water was cold and you were shriveling up like prunes

He’d pick you up out of the tub and dry you off before wrapping you in a robe, prepared to lay in bed until responsibility pulls the two of you back to the real world

Cassian

Cassian would want you to wash his hair

He’d have splash fights but end up grabbing you and just holding you close

Wanting to kiss you until he can’t breath

The lights are dimmed and the doors and windows shut, bubbly soap being the only scent to fill the room

Cassian loves filling the tub with bubbles or bath bombs. Whatever the new bath accessory is, he has it

He sits with his back fitting into the end of the tub but usually lets himself slide down until his head is barely above

He’d let you sit in whatever way is most comfortable

Sometimes that means you sit across from him, your legs twining together in the space between

This is usually when splash fights ensue

His favorite place for you to sit, though, is on his lap facing him

He likes holding you close, your breast pressing against him

He’ll suck hickeys into your neck and leave soft kisses

He insists on washing you, saying “you shouldn’t have to lift your hands to do anything”

But then he usually insists you wash him too

The two of you often use a bath as your entire date night

You drink wine and eat food in the tub, catching up on anything important that has happened in one another's life

The two of you often spend your baths holding one another close and kissing, though

That’s usually how they end

Cassian will pick you up from the tub, drying the both of you off quickly, before throwing you onto the bed and either holding you until the sun rises or making love to you until then

Rhys

Usually, you like to sit with your back to him, but you'll let him hold you and just use him as though he’s not actually there, getting comfortable in whatever way you can

The lights would be out making it almost completely dark with only one candle lighting the tub

He holds you close and kisses you whenever you turn your head to him

Whenever you have a stressful day he’ll massage your back while you sit in front of him, and even massage your scalp: either while washing your hair or with magic

Rhys would definitely try to cop a feel

He’d say something like, “They look like they want to be held” or “we can’t just let them sit there” anything to touch your boobs

He doesn’t usually relax in the bath but sits with you as long as you like if it helps you

He’ll surprise you with candles and rose petals when he knows you need it

Wine waits beside the tub and the two of you spend the time in quiet or talking about anything on your minds

Rhys prefers bathing without his wings

It allows him to get more comfortable, but sometimes he’ll pull them out just so you can wash them

Nights like that usually end with a messy bed and a need for another bath

When your done or have fallen asleep in his arms Rhys carries you back to bed, drying you off gently and tucking you in under the blankets