#shower thoughts

[thoughtcascades]

sorry i act weird when i’m uncomfortable and also when i’m comfortable

[arielries]

Do you ever wish you could take the steam with you?

[voidsw0rld]

With a body like that, it would be hard not to stare 18+ mdni tf141 x reader

Check out my masterlist!

In the absolute back-ass of some godforsaken country on a mission, you and the rest of Task Force 141 finally managed to crawl back to a proxy safe house. You’d been awake for forty-eight straight hours, your skin caked in layers of sweat, field dirt, and dried blood.

You wanted nothing more than a boiling hot bath to ease your tense, aching muscles. Instead, you were going to have to settle for a dingy, makeshift shower setup. 

The safe house was far from luxurious, but it offered the team enough sanctuary to rest up and scrub the grime of combat off your skin before continuing the op.

The one major drawback of the temporary base was its size. It offered virtually zero privacy, but none of you had ever really cared. 

The professional respect and tight-knit bond among the team ran deep. It also helped that the men treated you as one of their own—or, at least, that’s what you had assumed.

As the gruelling team debrief finally wound down, you decided to make your move with impatient haste. Wanting to be the first one in, you grabbed a change of clothes and called out to the room that you were heading to wash up.

The shower cubicle was actually situated just outside the main structure. It didn't offer much in the way of shielding—just a single brick wall. If anyone felt like walking around the corner, they’d get a completely unobstructed, full view of the stall. 

Stepping onto the cracked tile floor, you stripped down out of your heavy tactical gear. Since there were no locks or even a proper door, you just threw a loud warning shout out to the yard to let the guys know you were showering.

The moment the cold water hit your skin, a deep, shuddering sigh left your lips. As the stream ran through your matted hair, it began to warm up slightly, but you were honestly too exhausted to care about the temperature.

Too wrapped up in the blissful sanctuary of the running water, you had absolutely no idea you had suddenly acquired an audience. And they were standing in a state of absolute shock and giddy amusement.

“Jesus Christ,” Soap muttered under his breath, his eyes instantly glued to your form. He was completely enamoured, watching the way the water glistened down the plump, smooth curve of your ass.

Gaz walked over to see what the hell Soap was staring at so intently. The second he rounded the corner, he froze, jaw dropping so fast he practically drooled.

“Mate, why the fuck are you—oh.” Gaz’s train of thought was instantly derailed, his brain short-circuiting entirely.

You began lathering shampoo into your hair, your back still completely turned to your pervy teammates, utterly oblivious to the commotion you’d caused. Your hands tangled in your long locks, pulling them up and giving them a full, glorious display of your toned back. Your spine arched slightly as you began to hum a mindless tune to yourself, working the suds into your scalp.

Taking their sergeants' sudden silence as an open invitation—and getting thoroughly pissed off that their orders were being ignored—Captain Price and Lieutenant Ghost stormed over.

“Are you lot fucking deaf?” Simon growled out, his voice a low, threatening rumble. But the words died in his throat. 

He went wide-eyed beneath his skull mask, shutting up instantly as he took in your naked form.

A slow, knowing smirk crept onto Price’s face. He thoroughly enjoyed the view, but he enjoyed how easily undone his hardened men were at the mere sight of you even more.

“What’s wrong, lads? Never seen a woman before, is that it?” Price teased, though his own eyes lingered. The three younger men stood entirely unfazed by the jab, unable to look away.

“I just… I didn’t realize our wee sergeant was quite so much of a lady under all that gear,” Soap choked out, his Scottish accent thick with awe.

To be fair, you weren't exactly the overtly feminine type in the field. Matching the masculine, rugged energy of the unit was a survival trait, and living and working alongside hardened military veterans most of the time didn't leave much room for glamour. 

But all that brutal training and combat experience had sculpted your body to absolute perfection.

Yet, there was something undeniably, breathtakingly feminine about you in that exact moment. 

The way your chin lifted toward the showerhead, leaning your head back into the spray; the way your long hair was tussled with white soap suds; the way your soft, supple curves were on full display, glistening and wet under the dim light.

It wasn’t until you finally turned around to rinse that you saw the group of men ogling you like a bunch of spellbound schoolboys. 

You didn't scream or cover up. Instead, you simply rolled your eyes, reached over the partition, and grabbed your towel.

‘Those fucking idiots.’

Their faces burned a deep crimson from a potent mix of embarrassment and sudden adrenaline. They had just been caught red-handed looking in on their teammate, and they were fully expecting a high-decibel meltdown.

Instead, you casually wrapped the towel around your wet hair, stepped out of the stall, and walked right up to them. They stood entirely paralysed, practically terrified to even breathe, as you looked every single one of them dead in the eye with a sharp, deviant glint in your gaze.

“What?” you asked, looking down at your bare body before locking eyes with them again. 

“I may look and act like one of the guys on a run, but I’m very much still a woman.”

You flashed them a teasing, wicked smile, walking right past the frozen line of soldiers while shaking your head. 

As your hips swayed deliberately down the narrow corridor toward one of the bedrooms, walking painstakingly slow, each step further adding to the aching bulge in their pants. You could feel all four pairs of eyes burning holes into your skin with an intense, suffocating heat.

Stopping just at the threshold of the doorway, you trailed off. “Well…”

You slowly turned around, a dark, playful look washing over your face as you looked back at the hallway. 

“Are you lot just going to stand there, or do you actually want to come get a closer look? Your call.”

You didn't even have to wait for an answer. The words had barely left your lips before all four men practically tripped over their own boots, breaking their paralysis in a desperate, chaotic scramble to make their way into your room.

Hey, nothing like a little boost in team morale, right?

-

-

-

-

-

void a/n: let me know what ya think <3 part 2 here

[novelconcepts]

Man, we have got to stop treating art like it has an expiration date. That show stopped airing? Doesn’t mean it can’t haunt your every waking thought. Everybody’s into this album, but you don’t have the energy for new music right now? It’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready. That movie’s fifty years old and indie as shit? Incredible, you have the chance to share it with folks who might never otherwise feel that particular punch of delight. Books don’t go bad. Shows inspire fandoms decades after they’ve wrapped up. We’re still looking at cave paintings and statue work from ancient times and letting the joy of creation bring tears to our eyes. That’s the point of art. It’s as close to immortality as we ever get. Why try to give that magic a shelf life?

[mentaikoprawn]

i’m not even sad i’m just full of unsaid things and memories i didn’t ask for

[2dashow]

[medievalloco]

'If the rain that touches your skin travelled miles to find you, then so will everything that is meant for you"

Anonymous