#damn i miss my soaps

[wdymidekn]

Ghost is unimpressed😤✋🏻😾😾

[lastoneout]

Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.

I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.

I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.

[cj-theyoungling]

Simon Riley x Reader

cw : Being drunk. This is pure fluff soooo.

synopsis : Simon goes to a pub after a mission and ends up getting a bit more drunk than he bargained for. After asking for you incoherently Gaz finally gets you on the phone.

author's note : This was inspired by this work I read while I was on the train and I had to put my two cents in. Simon might be OOC in this but it's my story so I get to decide how he acts drunk.

The sound of your ringtone fills your bedroom and wakes you up with a start. You fumble around the empty sheets looking for your phone, you squint at the brightness of the screen and answer once you see Simons contact photo.

"Hey! I think Ghost is asking for you. He's a little bit wasted right now." I man in a baseball cap says to you. You watch as he hands the phone over to Simon.

Simon's face fills the screen, once he catches sight of you the fabric of his balaclava folds in a way you know means he's smiling. "Hi baby." You coo at the screen. His eyes light up as he brings the screen closer to his face. You can tell he's drunk when he leans against Price as he replies.

"Hi doll. I miss you." He slurs his words together, between that and the usual muffling of his mask you can barely make out what he's saying.

"I miss you too Simon." This elicits what you can only assume is a frown from him.

"You don't call me that." He grumbles, you giggle in response and the sound of Price chuckling comes through the phone.

"Damn! You're whipped LT!" A Scottish accent shouts, also clearly drunk.

"Where are you love? I'm gonna come get you." You start putting on your sweatshirt and shoes, you laugh as you hear Simon ask Price the name of the they're at. You hang up, much to Simon's dismay, and drive to go get him.

You enter the mostly empty pub and quickly catch sight of the table full of burly men who all seem to be arguing over something.

"Well is she your wife Ghost? You have their last name saved as Riley." The one who answered the call says, now having shed his cap from earlier.

"Why didn't you tell us about her." Another man says, his hair is sticking up in a mohawk.

Price chuckles at their antics, having caught sight of you walking towards them. "Nice to see you again." He greets, giving you a quick side hug.

"Again?!" The mohawked one says incredulously. You chuckle and introduce yourself to the two men. Simon, suddenly alert once you start speaking stands and wraps his arms around you tightly.

"I missed you doll." He mumbles into your neck, ignoring the laughs from Gaz and Soap.

"I missed you more baby. Now let's get you home, you're wasted." You chuckle as you lead him away from the table. You wave at the men and get Simon into the car.

Once you get into the drivers seat Simon grabs your hand and holds it tightly. You smile as you begin to drive home. Making sure to take a few pictures when Simon falls asleep in the passenger seat.

[sweetstrawberryys]

“That’s Your Wife?!”

--- Younger!Reader x Husband!Price

Reader decides to go visit her older husband at work.

Rating: Sweet with a bit of spice.

Warnings: Age gap (legal and consensual), teasing, flirtation, protective Price, and Soap being a menace.

---

You stepped onto the base wearing tight jeans, a cropped hoodie, and a pair of sunglasses that cost more than most soldiers’ paychecks. Your duffel bag swung casually at your side, and your lip gloss shimmered in the sunlight like a beacon of “not military approved.”

You looked like a college girl who’d made a wrong turn and wandered into a war zone.

And that’s exactly what every soldier thought.

“Who’s the civvie?” one of them whispered.

“Damn, did she get lost on the way to the mall?”

“I’ll help her find her way…”

“Oi, careful, she looks real expensive.”

You just smiled, walking past the whispers like you didn’t hear every word.

And then:

“Baby,” came that deep, unmistakable voice.

Everyone turned.

Captain John Price, beard perfect, sleeves rolled up, standing like some military-grade Greek god in the middle of the chaos. His eyes lit up the second he saw you. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

You ran into his arms, jumping up with the kind of excitement that definitely didn’t scream “military spouse.” He caught you like it was nothing, grinning like a damn fool. “Missed you, Daddy.”

Dead silence.

Absolute silence.

Soap dropped his protein bar.

Gaz blinked like he just saw a ghost.

Ghost muttered, “No fucking way.”

You kissed Price on the cheek, then looked around with a sweet smile. “Hi! I’m Mrs. Price.”

“Mrs.—?” Soap choked. “You’re married? To him?”

Price just smirked. “Is there a problem, Sergeant?”

Soap: “Nah, just��� you sure she’s not a hired actress or—?”

“Say one more word and you’re cleaning latrines with a toothbrush.”

Gaz leaned over to Ghost. “She’s gotta be, what, 23? 24?”

“She called him Daddy, I don’t want to do this today,” Ghost replied, turning around.

---

Later in the rec room…

You sat on Price’s lap while he read over reports. Soap was still staring like he was trying to solve a math equation.

“Does she even know what you do for a living?”

“I’ve seen him shirtless. I know enough,” you said sweetly.

Gaz choked on his water. “She’s dangerous.”

Price just kissed your cheek, totally unbothered. “That’s why I married her.”

---

Bonus:

When you left the base the next day, wearing his dog tags and his hoodie, Soap muttered, “That man’s living my dream…”

And Ghost?

Just said, “That girl’s gonna be the death of him.”

But from the way Price watched you walk away, hand casually adjusting the waistband of your leggings like it was a reflex?

He’d die smiling.

---

[littlemissaddict]

Price with a pretty little misses that likes to bake. It started as a hobby with John taking the sweet treats into work for the rest of the task force who devoured them with pleasure. The boys telling him that she should start selling her bakes because of how good they were, she shrugged the praise off at first, just happy they enjoyed them but eventually she decided to take the plunge.

Starting at small markets, beaming with pride when people praised her bakes, until her little business started taking off. She hired someone to start doing deliveries for her, taking occasional collections from their home. The next step in the journey was to find a little store to rent out as she was begins to get too many orders to cope with running it from home but that seemed to be proving difficult so far so for now she continued as she was.

Though through it all, she still made sure there were sweet treats for John to take into work for his team so much so that Monday mornings they seemed to have been conditioned to expect the goodies. Only the Monday after John came back off leave, he returned with nothing for them.

"Sorry lads, got back late last night from a little break away for the misses. She works too damn hard," he apologised, leaving the rec room and towards his office.

Little did he know that Simon had managed to track down his wife's business and ordered some brownies to collect on his day off that week, unable to go a week without his fix of sweet treats.

So when the day rolled around Simon, as punctual as ever, turned up at 10 on the dot to collect his goodies. John on the other hand was surprised to see his Lt stood on his doorstep on his day off.

"What can I do for you Simon?" John asked, just as she came into view with the box of brownies in hand.

"Simon, is it?" She asked and he nodded in response as she handed him the box and took the money he handed her, "Sorry I'm a little unorganised this morning, been a little distracted" she apologised as she glanced over at John before looking for some change to give him from the twenty he had given her.

"S'alright love, keep it" Simon smiled, his gruff voice making her freeze, wondering if she'd heard him right. Simon hadn't missed her not so subtle glance at John, knowing just exactly what it was that she'd been insinuating, and he didn't blame him. Now Simon had seen her, he knew if she were his he'd keep her distracted at every chance he got. Not that he should be thinking that way about his Captain's wife and as observent as he was he'd missed that John had picked up exactly what he was thinking.

"Are you sure that's a big tip?" She asked, and when he nodded, she smiled in return, thanking him before he left, completely oblivious that John knew him as she had never met his team.

John however watch Simon closely back at base, especially as he sat eating one of the brownies. It didn't go unnoticed by Soap and Gaz either as they recognised the treat straight away, rounding on Price to ask why Simon had one of his wife's bakes but they didn't.

"Ask him yaself" Price retorted, leaving Simon to be hounded by the sergeants. That'll teach him to eye up my wife, Price thinks as he goes

[lazysoulwriter]

sweat & purple rain - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: NSFW, explicit shower sex, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, hair pulling, spanking, praise & slight teasing kink, Pedro being annoying and hot, fluff and humor, domesticity, singing Pedro lol

----

You hear the door before you see him. Then the heavy thud of his gym bag hitting the floor, followed by—

“Mi amoooorrrrr,” Pedro calls out, still out of breath, “I almost DIED doing squats today, where’s my reward?”

You barely have time to look up from the couch before he’s on you — shirt soaked through, arms wrapped around you, lips smacking against your cheek over and over.

“Pedro!” You shove at his damp chest, squealing. “You’re all sweaty! Get off!”

“Let me love you,” he whines dramatically, breath hot on your neck. “I’m weak. My muscles hurt. I need comfort.”

“You need a shower,” you laugh, trying not to breathe in his delightfully gross gym smell, “and a damn exorcism.”

He pulls back just enough to grin, cheeks flushed, curls damp. “C’mon. Shower with me?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” he smirks, tugging you up by the hand, “but you love it.”

The second the water hits, he’s humming.

Then singing. Loudly.

“I never meant to cause you any sorrow—”

“Pedro,” you groan, “please—"

“I never meant to cause you any pain—”

You reach for the shampoo with a snort as he presses his chest to your back, water cascading down your bodies. His hands stay on your hips, thumb rubbing circles.

“I only wanted one time to see you laughing…” he croons, completely off-key.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, lathering your hands.

“I only want to see you laughing…” He turns you around with a dramatic flourish. “In the purple rain!”

You burst out laughing, shoving shampoo-slick fingers into his curls. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he says, suddenly softer. His eyes stay locked on yours while you gently wash his hair, massage his scalp. “You spoil me.”

“I tolerate you,” you mutter, but your thumbs brush along his temples lovingly.

He leans into it like a cat, all smug and warm. “You love me.”

You rinse his hair, trying not to smile. “I do. But I liked you better when you weren’t so—”

His mouth crashes onto yours before you can finish. You gasp, hands sliding down his chest, soap slick between you.

“You were saying?” he whispers.

You don’t answer — you just kiss him harder.

Hands wander. Hips press. His palm slaps against the wall beside your head and you moan into his mouth.

“Turn around,” he rasps.

You do. Water runs down your back as he kisses your neck, your shoulder, his hand slipping between your thighs.

“You want it?” he asks, voice husky, fingers stroking slowly.

You nod, grinding back into his hand.

He grabs your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your entrance. You’re already wet — hot and ready for him — and he slides in with a low groan.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “So tight for me.”

You brace yourself against the tiles, gasping as he sets a steady rhythm, hips slapping into yours.

He doesn’t rush. Just drags it out — deep and slow and filthy. His hands roam, groping your tits, tugging your hair, smacking your ass just hard enough to make you yelp.

“This what you needed?” he growls. “Me ruining you in the shower like a fuckin’ animal?”

You whimper, pushing back onto him. “Y-Yeah.”

He leans in, biting your shoulder gently. “Say it.”

“Needed you,” you gasp, “missed your cock, fuck—Pedro—”

You come with a cry, legs shaking, water washing the sweat and sin from your skin.

He follows not long after, moaning your name like it’s a hymn.

Afterward, you’re breathless, sagging against him in the misty steam. He pulls you close, presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“Still think I need an exorcism?” he murmurs, voice smug.

You swat his ass. “Still think you need a muzzle.”

He laughs. “Fair.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[mangooes]

Your Cat is Heavy Ma'am!

(Name) was exhausted. Her heels had been kicked off halfway through the hallway, her jacket slung somewhere across the kitchen island, and her only plan for the evening was to faceplant into bed. But the moment she stepped into their shared bedroom—

“OH MY GOD!”

A wild caracal was lounging on the middle of their bed. Elegant, huge, with tufted ears and slitted golden eyes locked directly on her like she owed it a snack. Or her soul.

And before she could bolt or scream again—it lunged.

"AUGH—!"

She hit the carpet with a dramatic thump, limbs flailing in pure chaos, only to find the caracal landing squarely on her, tail swishing and purring like a damn engine. It rubbed its head along her cheek, licked her chin, and stretched languidly on top of her, completely knocking the breath out of her.

From the corner, Mephisto cawed in what could only be described as robotic bird laughter.

“Mephisto! Not helping!” She shrieked, swatting at the air as the smug avian continued flapping with mockery. “You’re supposed to protect me, not broadcast this like a soap opera!”

The caracal, unbothered, licked her nose.

She groaned dramatically, hands flopping to her sides. “Okay. Fine. I guess I have a cat now. A huge, kissing, clingy cat. Sylus is gonna freak when he finds fur in the sheets...”

At the sound of Sylus's name, the caracal tensed. Fur rose. Ears flattened.

She blinked. “...Huh. That’s weird. What, don’t like him?”

But the tension passed quickly, and she just shrugged. “Whatever, big guy. You’re sweet. And super heavy. Like—what do they feed you, bricks?”

Still, she scooped him up with effort, staggering toward the hallway like a warrior bearing the weight of an 18-pound demon kitten. “We’re gonna cuddle. And then I’m gonna show you off to Sysy—he’ll get all jealous, it’ll be funny.”

She’d barely made it past the front hallway when the front door slammed open.

Luke and Kieran burst in, panting like they’d just outrun a dragon stampede, Kieran holding a glowing vial like it was the Holy Grail.

“MISSUS!!” they both shouted in unison.

She stared at them, caracal still slung in her arms. “...Why are you both sweating like marathon runners? And what—”

She pointed to the vial. “What is that? Where’s Sylus?! Did he—”

The cat sniffed the vial, and then—

LICK.

And then… P O O F.

She suddenly found herself pinned under something a lot heavier than a caracal.

A man. A bare-chested, the smell of his signature colgone, very familiar, very muscled man.

“…SYLUS?!” she shrieked.

Sylus, now very much human again, groaned in bliss, nuzzling into her neck like a sleepy cat, voice rich and husky. “Mmm… I like this better. Your skin’s much softer than the sheets.”

She was frozen for all of two seconds. Then she exploded.

“WHA—YOU—YOU WERE THE CAT?! YOU WERE LICKING MY FACE—GET OFF ME, YOU NAKED MENACE!”

Sylus smirked, not moving an inch. “I told you I missed you.”

“YOU TERRORIZED ME! YOU JUMPED ON ME! YOU PURRED LIKE A DAMN ENGINE!”

“You called me sweet,” he murmured smugly, kissing the edge of her jaw. “You said you wanted to cuddle—who am I to deny you that?”

She turned cherry red, smacking his shoulder. “Get off me, put some clothes on!”

Luke and Kieran, watching the chaos unfold from the doorway, turned away with synchronized salutes, dying of laughter.

“Respectfully lookin’ away, boss!”

“Don’t forget to tell us if you wanna go full tiger next time, we’ll prep the litter box!”

(Name) howled, trying to squirm out from under him. “SYLUS! THEY SAW EVERYTHING!”

He grinned devilishly, arms tightening around her waist. “Good. Let them see who I belong to... Master.”

“You’re unbelievable, wait what MASTER—”

“And adorable,” he purred, nipping her earlobe. “And all yours.”

She groaned dramatically, ruffling his hair messy. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Mmm,” he rumbled, finally scooping her up bridal style, completely ignoring her flailing. “Lucky you didn’t adopt another cat. That would've gotten messy.”

“You were jealous of yourself,” She pointed out flatly, arms crossing as he carried her to the bedroom.

“I was jealous of a version of me that got more cuddles than this one, yes.”

She sighed again. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled, nuzzling into her hair. “After all, a cat can't stray away from it's master for too long no?”

This was inspired by the cat event last year, PLEASE BRING IT BACK I LOVE CAT SYLUS AKSJDNASKJDNAKA I NEED THE CLOTHES RAGHHHHHHH also could you tell that i rlly love cats, anyways sylus is a caracal cat its canon guys i love him

[lostintransist]

You're cooking with that gym one.. keep going

Here is my submission for you anon.

John rubbed tiredly at his face. His feet pressed in turn to the rotating belt of the treadmill. He did not want to be here.

Base doc told him he wouldn't be getting clearance to go back on jobs until he got is cholesterol down. He, wisely, did not question how his cholesterol could be high when the only things he consumed were cigars, toast, and coffee.

Having tried the base gym a few times he found it...full of distractions.

If he could be found on base he had everyone, including the devil, showing up at his side. If it wasn't questions, it was paperwork. He fucking hated paperwork.

Gym etiquette said to, when possible, leave a machine open between you and the next person over on treadmills. You had already been on a machine when he arrived. John walked with no music. Oppositely you jived and mouthed along with whatever you were listening to. He appreciated that you didn't sing as you walked. Soap's of kilter voice drifting from the showers was more than enough.

John lifted a brow at the young man who stepped onto the machine between you and him. The man didn't spare him a glance. John shrugged. He maintained his pace, eyes fixed on the news. Damn he should start bringing his glasses. Those subtitles were stretching his limits of vision.

"Come on, just talk to me already!"

The man beside him shouted. John turned in time to see the man hit the off button and step off the treadmill. Glancing at you he his concern rises. Tight jaw, nose flaring wide as you suck in breaths, and white knuckles gripping the arms of the machine tell him a lot.

When the man appears before your treadmill John is already reaching for his off button. He's a bastard. His ex-wives agreed on that, but this was unacceptable behavior.

You surprise both men when you rip your headphones off.

"I know you don't listen to your mother either, but let's see if your kindergarten teacher was right about you being a good student." A look of disgust adds sting to the words you whip at the man. "If a woman is ignoring you, she's busy. When a woman gives you a closed mouth smile after you attempt to flirt she is uncomfortable but won't say so because she doesn't want to be raped or murdered in the next alley over. Now unless you have something of value to provide to society as a whole, you will get out my face."

All that said without you missing a step.

"God, no need to be a bitch," the man sneered up at you. "I was going to tell you I thought you were beautiful."

"Women are only beautiful when you want to stick your dick in them. Buy a flesh light instead and leave women alone. Leave me alone." You throw up double middle fingers at him.

The fucktard shouted hate as he stalked away.

John, no longer tired, laughed so hard he started to cough. He paused his machine. Covering his mouth with a fist he laughed again when he could breathe. You are staring at him when he looks up. Distrust paints the color of your eyes.

"His kindergarten teacher?" He asked, starting to chuckle again.

The tension melts away from your shoulders. The tip of your tongue makes an appearance on your lip as you give him a sheepish look. You open and close your mouth as your fingers work themselves into knots.

"So ya see..." You can't finish your thought before you are laughing too.

"I'm John," he offers you a hand to shake over the empty machine.

"Good to meet you, John," you shake his hand and give him your name in return.

"That happen to you often? If so, I would love to witness more of you cutting men off at the knees." John can't help but smile, full and wide at the embarrassment that sparks through your posture.

You sigh through your nose.

"More often than I care for," you admit.

"Well, if you need a gym buddy I am in need of a good laugh," John pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to you to add your phone number.

"I am at your service, John. My misfortune is yours to witness," you pass the phone back with a flourish.

John can't remember the last time he laughed so much.

Gym Adventures:

SoapGaz | Simon | Phillip Graves | Ghost | 4 for 1 Special | SoapGaz/Reader NSFW | Phillip Graves NSFW | AO3

[404creep]

Y'all were eating up my Simon x civilian cleaner drabble, so I decided to add some more on it!

Previous Part Next Part Series Masterlist

In the last one I said that you just accept him following you around like a creep because he gives you scary dog privileges, but that wasn't an immediate thing.

Early on when you first caught his attention there were many young cadets that had the unfortunate timing of trying to flirt with you when he'd show up for his daily fix.

Safe to say those poor cadets would end up running laps until they were sick.

One had the nerve to try and get your number while Simon was watching and he became the volunteer (victim) for Simon's next hand to hand combat training dimenstration.

The whole thing just literally ended up as more work for you because you had to mop up the blood

He felt so bad :(

Never wants to make more work for you

One time, a comms tech wasn't looking where he was going and ended up bumping into you in the hall while you were sweeping and spilled his coffee all over the floor and a little on you

Literally started screaming about YOU needing to watch where YOU were going and about how you're just a cleaner and you're easily replaceable and all that.

You're biting your tongue because you need this job, but damn if the coffee soaking your shirt didn't hurt.

Simon, however, is PISSED.

How dare that little shit stain talk down to HIS bird????? And he didn't even have the decency to ask if you were okay????

Marched right over and pulled that little dickhead away from you. Made him clean up his mess and then Simon contacted his direct supervisor about the little shit making a hostile work environment and harassing civilians.

Dude got put on probation

You warm up to Ghost after that.

He may be a weird little stalker, but at least he had your back

Safe to say after that event EVERYONE on base knew to stay away from Simon's little cleaning lady unless they wanted to face his wrath.

Johnny is tickled pink by it when he finds out

Soap will hover around you now too, asking you stupid questions about your life and telling you dumb jokes while side eyeing Ghost looking like the cat that ate the canary.

Johnny is nice enough but you long for the days when you could do your work in silence.

Ghost also misses the time when you worked in silence because he's never wanted to punch Johnny in the face more than when he interrupts your guys' quality time

Now onto the kid

The first time Simon sees you go pick up the toddler from the base daycare he almost cries

Convinced you're married or have a man at home looking after you and his little fantasy shatters. He'd never seen a ring on your finger so he assumed you were single but maybe you took it off when you were at work???

He basically goes into mourning

He's in a horrible mood for a while after that and it drives the 141 a bit crazy.

He refuses to go watch you after that, because he doesn't wanna step on any toes but he misses you :(

You notice the absence and honesty kind of miss your shadow :(

Johnny finally can't take it and casually asks one day if you got a mister at home

You say no and explain that you take care of your sisters kid.

Johnny basically skips to Simon to give him the good news.

After that your shadow is back and he's even moved a bit closer to you.

You're happy to see him back honestly

Meanwhile Simon is thinking of all the ways he can sweep you off your feet. His poor bird has so much going on in her personal life, he needs to take care of her.

Starts leaving little treats in your locker

You know who they're from

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

pure fluff, fem reader, not proofread, katsuki really likes the way you smell, talks of marriage, katsuki being an absolute demon, biting bc is it rlly a cash fic if it doesn’t involve katsuki biting us ? lemme know if i missed sum else <3

a.n.: ..so this came to me in the middle of the night and i had to write it down before i forgot about it…please do not perceive me🫶🏾

katsuki keeps sniffing at your wrist.

for some reason, he keeps bringing your palm towards his face and you imagined he’d kiss it if he was feeling a little sweeter than usual or he’d bite your finger if he was feeling like a little shit.

imagine your surprise when instead, he just sniffs you and goes right back to watching tv.

he does it for the fifth time in the span of a few seconds and you turn your head that was smooshed into his chest staring at the tv to stare at him with a brow raised.

“katsuki.” he only grunts in response, nose pressed to your pulse point. a deep, grumbled noise comes from the deepest part of his chest when you try to pull your arm out of his grip.

“quit squirmin’. ”

“katsuki !” you squeal, giggling. katsuki grunts into your skin, pulling your hand closer to his face.

“what’re you doing ?” you chirp.

“ya smell like somethin’” is all he offers you for a response, your lip pulls up in confusion. you tilt your head.

“like what ?”

“i dunno, s’like—” he cuts himself off, pulls your hand away from his face to stare up at the ceiling in thought, only to bring it back to his nose.

you can’t help laughing at his behavior “ like what ?” you urge.

“different.” he settles “this some new perfume or somethin’ ?” he asks seriously, lifting himself up so he can sit up against the couch cushion and you follow, no longer laying but sitting up in his lap.

“not really, it’s this new body wash i found at the mall !” katsuki grunts in acknowledgment “was walking around with a friend and she recommended it to me, so i figured i’d give it a shot.” you explain.

“smells good right ?” you ask excitedly. katsuki damn near growls at your wrist, then he drops it and stuffs his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you tightly like he’s trying to squeeze you to death, pulling you closer to him.

“so fuckin’ good.” he rumbles, the way his voice deepens has shivers going down your spine and has you impossibly giddy.

“what soap is that ? need ta stock up on it.”

you roll your eyes “so you can steal it from me ? no thank you.”

“m’ your boyfriend, you’re s’posed to share with me. what’s that saying? what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours ?” his voice is smushed against the fabric of your clothes because he can’t stay away from your skin for more than three seconds, going back for whiffs like an addict. you wrap your arms around him with a snort.

“isn’t that saying usually for married couples ? we’re not married.”

“yet.”

your heartbeat quickens and you feel your skin prickle and go hot at how casually he uttered the word. you play around with the hairs on his nape.

“..yet” you utter quietly. his nose is pressed against your addams apple, deeming it his new favorite spot to sniff at you like a dog. “so until then, my secret stays with me.”

“tch, stingy woman.” he scoffs “might have to marry you sooner than i thought.” he smirks.

you move to shove your head into his shoulder in embarrassment and he straight up laughs, the asshole. you’d be angry if you weren’t as in love with him as you were in this very moment.

“oi, i told you to quit squirming.” he jests.

“katsukiii !” you whine. he only chuckles, greatly enjoying the way he’s tormenting you.

“what ?” he snorts, his nose is pressed to your shoulder “don’t act brand new, you knew i was gonna marry you.”

“this is bullying.” he barks out a loud laugh at your flustered response.

“me puttin’ a ring on that fuckin—” he grabs your hand again and presses his lips to your ring finger “divine smellin’ finger of yours is bullying ?” he chuckles.

“you’re so weird.” you can’t help the smile that grows against his shoulder and he feels it too, the smirk against your finger only grows.

“right back atcha.” he snickers, then bites into your shoulder like he’s trying to take a chunk out of you.

“ouch ! katsuki !” you yelp, smacking his back lightly, all he does is snicker like the evil motherfucker he is.

“sorry, baby.” he apologizes but you can hear in the teasing lilt in his voice he regrets absolutely nothing “ ya smell so good i couldn’t help it.”

a.n. : i actually don’t know if that saying is usually for married couples but pls ignore it for plot sake thx 🤞🏽💓

[thistle-wrote]

Okay, could you guys imagine if the thing that finally got Ghost and soap together wasn’t some life or death situation where they’re forced to confront their feelings but rather Price's nosey, meddling wife?

F!reader X John Price and Ghost X soap

Authors note: This has been rattling around in my noggin for months.

“Hey, John?” you murmured as the two of you cleaned the mess left behind by the boys.

“Yeah, love?” John asks glancing up at you from the pile of dishes he’s working on

“You ever notice anything about Johnny and Simon?” you ask him in an almost cautious tone, these men meant more to him than he would ever care to admit.

“Yeah, drink their weight in liquor every damn time we have them over” your husband grumbled, you wonder sometimes if he’s willfully oblivious or just a man.

“No baby, like..” you thought for a moment. How exactly do you explain queer longing to your very straight husband?

“Okay like when Simon makes a joke he immediately looks at Johnny to see if he laughed. When Johnny has a question he only asks Simon. When Kyle says something stupid they look at each other like they have their language, like me and you do.” You do your best but John is all for minding his own business, he’s a pretty unproblematic guy overall, too old to care maybe.

“Lovie, mind your business, please. They’re grown men, if they have the hots for each other they can figure it out on their own.” John rolled his eyes at you and continued working. You didn’t love that, dismissing your want to gossip but it’s very John, makes you want to strangle him. You don’t bring it up again at least not for a few months, not until Kyle’s wedding, that was a very interesting trip as far as your snooping was concerned.

The moment Kyle and his beautiful wife said their ‘I do’s’ you glanced toward your husband in his fancy tan suit, remembering how that moment felt when it was the two of you standing at that altar. You can’t help the way your eyes drift from your husband to the blonde man behind him. Simon, much like you were looking at John, was looking at Johnny.

You knew from that point on you couldn’t let it go, they’re soldiers, they don’t talk about feelings, you know this, you sleep in a bed with one every night. The idea that they might miss out on potentially the greatest thing in either one of their lives because they’re either too stubborn or too stupid to realize what’s happening meant you didn’t have a choice, you had to meddle at least a little.

It started small, sitting in Johnnys seat when the group goes to a bar so he’d have to squish into the booth next to Simon, asking Johnny and Simon to watch the house while you and John were away for the weekend. Sure Kyle usually does it but he’s so busy with his new wife can’t you guys make the time? Asking Johnny, what is wrong with Simon when there is absolutely nothing wrong with him just so Johnny will have to pay more attention to figure it out.

You weren’t being malicious you were just trying to push them together, John was mostly unaware, although he occasionally gave you a look, specifically the time you asked Johnny if he thought ‘Simon’s haircut looked good’ (it did)

It eventually got a little more pushy. Not pushy in the sense that you were being mean or even trying to push them into something they didn’t want, because they want it. It’s just you knew soldiers, you knew these boys. They are dumbasses.

“Hey Simon?” you asked one Sunday afternoon. Simon had come over to watch some game with John, not unusual, although it is unusual for him to not have Johnny with him. This was your moment, John had gone to the bathroom so you wouldn’t have to hear “Stop being nosy, love!” You can just continue with your plan.

“Mm?” The quiet man asked you turning his head from the Telly to look at you. He’s not uninterested so much as he’s just quiet, you have known him for long enough to know that.

“How long have you and Johnny been dating?” You asked, you knew they weren’t dating. All part of the plan, all part of the plan.

“What?” He looked confused, you know him, maybe not as well as your husband but you know him. He can’t hide his facial expressions for anything, it’s probably best he wears a mask on the field.

“What?” You give the same facial expression as if trying to understand where his obvious confusion is coming from.

“We’re not dating, why did you think we were dating?” Simons interrogates you, it’s so rare that he says so many words you almost feel a little guilty.

“Oh, I’m sorry I just assumed.” Your tone is light, an honest mistake Simon, so sorry for the inconvenience.

“Why? Why did you assume that?” For the first time all the time you’ve known him he seems flustered.

“Oh, I just… you guys live together, always touching, talking quietly to yourselves, it’s just exactly like me and John. I just assumed dating, shouldn’t have.”

Your statement is made with kindness and a smile but one day you’ll tell him how you conned him into being in love.

“We’re not” Simon stated leaving no room for your argument. There was a long stretch of silence before he spoke again.

“Do you think he thinks we’re dating?” Well you didn’t expect that question, Johnny lacked common sense sometimes but he’s not stupid, no you did not believe he thinks they’re together.

“Yeah probably, I would.” LIES, one day you’ll have to confess to this but not today.

He left not too long after that conversation, and you kind of felt like you may have messed something up. But you shouldn’t doubt yourself, you know this, you’re like a wizard in the art of getting in other people’s business. Your self-doubt is as squashed the minute Johnnys' silly little contact photo popped onto your phone. A phone call, you answer.

“Hello?” You barely have time to start speaking before Johnny starts in. Poor guy.

“Si just texted me and said he talked to you bout somethin’ and it made him ‘realize some things’ that hell’s that about?” Rambling is funny on him, he’s always so calm and collected, now this is where you kinda hesitated, do you tell the truth or do you stir the pot? You settle on stirring the pot. For the greater good of course.

You ended up telling Johnny everything you and Simon spoke about, leaving nothing out, you simply just finished off your little story with a

“Who knows maybe it made him think hard enough he’s going to tell you how he feels.”

Johnny stays silent for a long moment on the other end of the line, mulling it over probably.

“So Si has the hots for me aye?”

You wish he could’ve seen your eye roll but you’re sure he heard your sigh.

“Just a hunch” you add maybe you could get him to make a move, he’s probably easier to work on than Simon anyway.

“Aye, good hunch, lass.” You are acutely aware that your husband still in fact doesn’t know you’re trying to convince his soldiers to break “no fraternizing” rules. But he will only be annoyed until he sees his mates so happy.

Your phone call with Johnny doesn’t last much longer. You feel like a Disney villain for a couple of minutes but then John put on his reading glasses so you kinda got a little distracted and ‘forgot’ to mention to him that you were psychologically manipulating his best friends for their good. You let fate do its thing now, you pushed enough.

Weeks maybe even months go by, and you haven’t seen the group in a bit, you and John are off in the kitchen making drinks while Kyle and his new wife make googly eyes at each other in your living room.

When Johnny and Simon finally decide to grace the group with their presence, you see it immediately, holding hands, nothing is different except for that. You and John rejoin the group at some point, talking and laughing like always, they don’t mention it, you don’t ask and neither does anyone else. But everyone knew something had changed, thank the gods.

You’re poor dumb husband looks at his two best friends after a while, once the food was mostly gone and the drinks had been flowing. He looks at them and then back to you before ducking down and whispering in your ear.

“Love? I know That’s your handiwork.” yeah NO SHIT, John. But they look so happy.

Horrifyingly years later once the whole story had been recounted they told that story at their wedding, which was, yes embarrassing but the thought that you helped bring these two beautiful souls together eased that pretty quickly.

CoD Masterlist

[angelx]

⟡ ݁₊ . Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!reader headcannons that have been killing me from the inside ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Handsy in the most wholesome way: Kirishima doesn’t even realize how much he loves touching you — hand on your waist while you’re brushing your teeth, arms wrapped around your shoulders while you cook, or just dragging you into his lap while gaming. His love language is touch and it shows. “What, babe? Just makin’ sure my girl’s still real. Gotta hold you for quality control.”

Always horny in the morning: He wakes up with morning wood and the audacity to grind against your thigh like he’s dreaming. You’ll open your eyes to his sleepy little smile and raspy voice like: “Mornin’, sunshine. You feelin’ this too or should I hit the shower solo?”

Obsessed with your thighs: Man’s a thigh maniac. He lays his head on them like a pillow, massages them when you’re watching TV, and definitely likes to bite them during makeout sessions. You sit on his lap in shorts and he's fighting demons. “You tryin’ to kill me, baby? Wearin’ those shorts like that... You got no mercy.”

Huge fan of showering together: He’ll suggest it under the guise of being “eco-friendly” but let’s be real — it’s just an excuse to soap you up and press his chest against your back. Kiri in a steamy bathroom? His hair down and voice low? You’re not making it out.

Gets flustered but loves when you're bold: You call him "daddy" as a joke? He short-circuits. You sit on his lap in public? He’s sweating. You whisper something dirty in his ear? Man’s blushing and grinning like it’s Christmas morning. But you know he’s into it. “Y-You can’t just say that, babe… now I gotta walk around with a damn hoodie in front of my pants.”

Ridiculously good at aftercare: Even if it’s just heavy makeout sessions, he’s wiping you down with a warm towel, getting you water, tucking you in, giving you forehead kisses, and calling you “his precious girl.” He takes care of you like you're made of glass.

Big on praising you… but also loves being praised: He calls you gorgeous, perfect, and strong like it’s your name. But if you tell him he’s handsome? Or strong? Or say something like “You feel so good”? He’s putty. Putty with a boner.

Turns into a needy little thing if you ignore him. Busy with homework? Working late? He’ll poke your cheek, kiss your neck, or send you pics of him pouting with captions like "Miss me yet? 🥺👉👈” until you cave.

Mutters the filthiest things in your ear when he's in the mood: Normally sunshine boy. But when he wants you? His voice drops an octave and he says stuff like: “If we weren’t out in public, I’d have you bent over the nearest surface by now.” “You’ve been teasing me all night. Get in the car. Now.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

check out my other works here!: MHA MASTERLIST

EMERGENCY WRITING COMMISSION OPEN

[kryptznnn]

♛-Sing for me

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ⋆. 𐙚

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

➸ INTERESTS; - Dante Sparda x fem!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - short blurb about Dante!! Haven’t gotten these ideas and stuff out of my mind since watching the new show.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.roughly 1k, mentions of clubbing, nudity, alcohol, sex, smut, smut without a lot of plot, p in v, oral sex f!receiving, mentions of dancing, showering, shower sex, stripping, etc.

➸a.i; - 🌸my main navigation this might be one of my worst works yet idk whats wrong w me guys hopefully i'll edit/revamp it soon since it's so short

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

If the concept of being intoxicated without alcohol was true that would perfectly describe Dante as of now.

The way you came home to him after your shift at the bar and sank into his arms told him everything he needed to know. The faint scent of marijuana and alcohol being masked in your favorite perfume, the way your hair framed your face, and how your makeup had been smudged a bit spoke for itself.

That was a common scenario between the two of you, some workdays were good and some were bad. It was practically the circle of life playing at hand, but regardless the two of you had one another to rely on to cheer on each other’s mood.

“You’re back later than usual.” He spoke, caressing the side of your head softly before you slowly got up and made your way to your shared room.

“One of the dancers had a bad time and quit on us. So, there were more people getting drinks than watching the show tonight.” You spoke in response, itching your scalp shortly before making your way over to your dresser looking for pajamas.

“It was so insane; we were so short staffed on dancers one girl had to go for 2 songs and Enzo had baristas dance too.” You laughed, shaking your head at the thought of it all, quickly grabbing your clothes and slowly standing upright.

You were shortly blocked between making your way to the bathroom by Dante, leaning on the door frame in front of you as he raised a brow.

“Did you dance?” He asked you, his arms crossed as he waited on a response, only earning a scoff and laugh in response as you shook your head pointing to your appearance.

“Do I look like I’ve been stripping tonight? I’ve got alcohol stains on my clothes, and I definitely wouldn’t be putting on a show half nude for dozens to see. I’d need a whole glass of the strongest thing we’ve got in that damn place.” You joked, slightly moving Dante to the side as you walked past him and made your way into the bathroom, placing your clothes down on the sink counter.

“Well, you certainly know how to put a show on for me right?” He said, following right behind you into the bathroom with a grin on his face, making you roll your eyes with a smile and shooing him off.

“Bye, let me shower in peace” you joked, laughing at him as he raised his hands in defeat and closed the bathroom door as he left. You only shook your head and removed your clothes, putting your shower cap on and making your way into the shower as the water heated up.

You hadn’t even been in the water for long before hearing the curtains move slightly against the rod, hearing a familiar light whistling from behind you. You smiled to yourself as you felt the hot water drench your entire body as Dante wrapped his arms around you.

“Did you soap yourself already?” He asked from behind you, earning a soft “no” in response from you to which he smiled too. “Good” was all he responded before kissing the top of your head softly, even with the shower cap on.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the loud sound of what felt like rainfall coming from your shower-cap deflecting the water from above. You only placed your hands over Dante’s arms slowly, sinking into his body from behind you.

“I missed ya today, like a lot” he confessed, to which you shook your head and smiled. He always said this whenever you went to work, it was cute to say the least. You enjoyed coming home to someone who made everything feel worthwhile.

“I missed you more D.” You replied with a smile, feeling his grip loosen around you before he placed kisses on your shoulder and neck, lowering his hands to yours and squeezing them gently.

With the more he pushed into you the more wet he become from the shower head, his hair being the first along with the rest of his body as he slowly pushed you against the shower wall. Now he had his hands on your waist, turning you around to face him as he continued to pepper you with kisses along your collarbone and your throat.

Your body jolted slightly, laughing as he tickled you slightly before he came face to face with you, kissing you passionately, his hands never leaving your body. Your arms were quick to wrap around his shoulder as he picked you up, letting your weight rest against the shower walls and his hips before he knelt down holding you up.

Dante wasted no time in pleasuring you, resting the back of your thighs onto his shoulders as he held you ass up against the wall with his head buried in between your legs. He latched onto you like a fish on a hook, his tongue practically exploring all spots on your clit without letting go.

Your moans grew louder and more ragged the more he let on; you attempted to grab onto whatever you could around you. His wet hair, the wet shower walls, or your breasts, nothing could entirely prepare you for the orgasm that was approaching.

With the water from the shower head spraying onto Dante’s back, or his breathing from his nostrils tickling your skin you weren’t sure what it was you were feeling, but soon enough it all came to a stop when he pulled his head back.

You pet his hair softly with a whine, wishing he had continued to at least let you enjoy the entire experience. He only smiled at you with his bright eyes, licking his lips before standing back up again to smile at you.

“You sure I can’t get a little show from you now?” He asked, letting your legs wrap around his hips before he aligned himself and entered you slowly, moaning in unison as he inched himself in deeper.

“Look at me baby” he said, watching as your head lifted up to look at him before kissing you again. “You look so pretty” he cooed, his pace quickening now, loud and wet enough for the two of you to hear. Your entire body felt hot, overcome with embarrassment, flushed was an understatement, but that feeling was quick to break once you felt the amount of pleasure coming from him.

You were focused to say the least, focusing on lasting longer than before for the both of you and making as least noise as possible, occasionally covering your mouth just for Dante to remove it.

“Stop doin' that babe” he complained, his brows furrowed as his pace became even harsher, scanning your flushed face as you shook your head with a whine. He moans into you again before kissing you as he holds your hands down by your sides.

“I don’t have a lot of space to dance for you D” you moaned, chuckling after as you placed your hands on his shoulder. He only kissed you in response, holding onto you as he thrusted into you slowly, teasing you as his breath was hot and heavy on your skin.

You whined as a complaint, earning a chuckle from him before he quickened the pace slightly. His moans light as yours became louder, before biting your bottom lip in a way to silence himself.

He only lowered his head to your side, the water from above now spraying the both of you before a spoke again in a hushed tone. His breath fanning your ear making you jump slightly as you pressed your eyes shut to favor the moment.

“Yeahhh but I can definitely get you to sing for me can’t I beautiful?”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[gloomwitchwrites]

Last one I swear...What If 141...had an American girlfriend and they argued or had to teach them about some cultural differences? Football/soccer...currency...bathroom/loo, etc.

You said last one but we know that's not true. Don't blame you though. Keep them coming.

I love this idea. It's so cute! Translation mixup, confusion about slang, cultural differences, etc. Even though the Brits speak English, it's nothing like American English in a lot of respects, which is why I find this prompt so fun!

Wanted to make this quick and short. Presented in four drabbles. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings: brief swearing, brief mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Those are cookies, Kyle.”

“It’s a biscuit.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “A biscuit is savory. Cookies are sweet.”

“Your biscuit is a scone.”

“Oh my god,” you groan.

An old lady navigates around the two of you inside the grocery store. Her cart almost clips you.

Kyle glances down at the list in his hands. “What the fuck is an eggplant?”

“We need it for dinner on Tuesday.”

“But what is it?”

You point and Kyle follows. His arm drops to his side and he side-eyes you.

“That’s an aubergine.”

“That’s an aubergine,” you mimic as Kyle laughs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The front of the pub is painted all black with intricate gold lettering. A nearby streetlamp casts the front window in a warm glow.

“Remember what I told you?” asks Simon.

You both stare at the pub, neither moving to the door just yet.

“Tell me again.”

Simon clears his throat. “If I’m buying a round, don’t offer money for your portion. Order at the bar but don’t linger. Know what you want. Respect closing time.”

He pauses and you see him turn in the reflection of the window.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it.”

“Let’s get bloody pissed then.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You’ve got this. Don’t stress.” Johnny grasps your shoulders and squeezes. “It’ll be fine.”

“What if I mess up. Make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t,” he affirms.

“Johnny.”

He sighs and then cups the sides of your face. “You don’t have to say anything but three things.” You breathe deep, and Johnny goes in for a quick kiss. “What are they?”

“Aye,” you say. “Which means yes.”

“Naw,” and this is you emphasize with a terrible accent that makes Johnny wince, “is no.”

“What else?”

“It’s okay to use ‘fuck’ casually in a sentence.”

“That’s my girl,” laughs Johnny.

John Price

“If you’re coming to the game, you’re calling it by its proper name,” says John, pointing at you.

“What?” you ask with pretend aloofness. “Soccer?”

“Football,” he growls with annoyance.

It irritates John when you call the sport by its American name. But you do it anyway just to tease him.

John holds up a jersey. “This is important to me.”

“I know.”

“It’s a game with the boys.”

You pat his shoulder. “I know, John.”

He sighs. “What is it called?”

You remain quite and John arches an eyebrow.

“Soccer,” you answer, grinning.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

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[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

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Masterlist

[shinigamigloss]

sweet mornings!

cw: just fluff, stuff, very short, husband leon, and mentioned scar on his chin!, he makes a 'joke' about the age gap between the two of you, idek;3

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The morning light streams through the half-open blinds, spilling honeyed inks across the bathroom tiles. The redolence of fresh coffee lingers in the air. Then there’s the sharp aroma of Leon’s usual aftershave – the very scent you’ve grown to affiliate with home.

He reclines on the shut toilet seat, legs spread wide, arms flung loose on his thighs. His baby blue bathrobe is sloppy over his impressively big shoulders, sleeves a little bit too short, contributing to his appearance of the harried, underpaid househusband that he so often claims to be.

The sight is a lovely one, from Leon’s favorite coffee cup inscribed with ‘My dad is a superhero’, to the newspaper he always peruses in the morning.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he tuts at you. You don’t say a thing. Rather, you dip the shaving brush in tepid water.

“I’m a grown-up man. I've been shaving myself since– damn, since before you were old enough to drink.”

Ouch.

You shake your head in faux disbelief and lather the soap onto the brush. “Leon, you and I both know that you consistently miss this specific spot.”

Of course you’d hurt his feelings like that. Leon absolutely feels betrayed.

Your husband huffs dramatically. “One time. One time I leave just one patch, and suddenly I’m the inept one.”

“Well, you do have a reputation to uphold, Mr. Kennedy.” An impish smile graces your lips. You prod at his chin, tilting up his pretty face.

“Now, stay still.”

“Yas, ma’am.” Smiling to himself, he obliges.

You apply the foam to his stubbled jawline. His hair is fetchingly tousled from sleep, silver threads woven into his otherwise brown locks that reflect the morning light in a way that makes your heart race inside the cage of your ribs, your bones.

“You starin’ at me?” he impeaches playfully as you reach for the razor.

“Shhh. You talk too much.” You draw the knife slowly down his jaw. “I gotta be careful. One mistake and—“

“You slit my throat?”

“Yup.” You don’t hesitate.

His lashes flutter, and he draws a long, balmy sigh. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

“You figured it out, huh?”

“Yep. I love a slow-burn assassination plot and a femme fatale.”

You wipe the blade and move on to the next part on his skin – cautiously so when you feel the trace of a healed scar under your thumb.

“Tragic,” you retort.

He snorts out a laugh. The bathroom is warm, heavy with steam from the shower he just took.

When you near his upper lip, he raises his brows. “Bet you won’t kiss me right now.”

Mind games are his absolute favorite when it comes to teasing the hell out of you.

“I won’t.” You obviously lie. Leaning forward as if to show him, you dab a tiny bit of foam on the tip of his nose instead. “Oops.”

He automatically grumbles. “Unbelievable. There goes my kiss.”

“You’ll live, Leon. You’re a big man.”

When you’re finished, his face is vividly smooth, and you can’t resist running your fingers along the curve of his jaw. “Perfect.”

Leon catches your hand before you can pull it back, giving a slow kiss to the inside of your palm. “Mrs. Kennedy, I think you missed a certain spot.”

“Huh?” A frown sits on the gap between your eyebrows.

“No way! Where?”

He touches his peach-kissed lips. “Right here.”

Greedy.

You nearly roll your eyes at this cheesy attempt to flirt.

“That was so bad, Leon.”

“It did the trick, didn’t it, sweetheart?” He pulls you in. Tips his chin up expectantly. Looking adorable in a way you don’t understand how.

With a flourish of a sigh, you bend down and finally kiss him on his lips. Soft and all familiar. He tastes like morning coffee and mint. Simply delicious and inherently him.

In these very vibrations of seconds, you subconsciously know that you’ll let him get away with any missing spots for the rest of your life.