sageyxbabey

[sageyxbabey]

He's sitting on the couch with his legs tucked up, shivering violently like a geriatric chihuahua, while his friend has to stand there like:

"Sorrows... prayers... she'll be back in half an hour."

Nothing whatsoever except these all remind me of König:

Plsfindmeagf is his go to user name and I won’t hear another word about it.

😭😭😭😭😭

#konig #local seven foot man Freaks Out

[sageyxbabey]

A Weight Off His Shoulders

cw: Ghost x f!reader/f!oc, Ghost pov, m!oc, demon au, mild implications of self harm, interrogation techniques, exposition, Ghost grappling with his trauma, depersonalization, I'm holding Ghost at gun point and making him talk about his feelings

Summary: Ghost does not adjust to the few hours he spends without you hanging around. Actually it seems to make things worse.

It’s a strange feeling, Ghost’s shoulders feel weightless, eased of their infernal burden. Yet they’re still heavy. Guilty. He almost misses the pressure, the tightness. It’s like wearing a bulletproof vest, there was something almost comforting about having you weigh down his shadow, and it’s gone now. Ghost grits his teeth, coaxes his nerves away from the edge, hits the punching back in the gym harder than he intended to. He shakes the blow out of his knuckles, readjusts his wraps with a mumbled swear.

“Ghost,” Price calls behind him. Ghost shakes his head, he’s not in the mood for it. A lecture is the last thing he needs. Teamwork and all that bullshit means nothing when he’s- He clenches his hands tightly and throws another punch, he feels full to bursting with energy he doesn’t want to put a name to. Price calls his name again and he ignores it.

Right hook, left jab, right jab, left hook, uppercut. He switches his footing and throws a hard kick, catching the punching back with his shin. Textbook. Price catches the bag, his eyes hard. Ghost settles his foot back onto the matt floor and adjusts his wraps again.

“Know what you’re goin’ to say,” Ghost grumbles.

“Enlighten me,” Price sounds unamused, Ghost knows better than anyone how much he hates to be ignored.

“Team only works if we all do,” Ghost throws another jab, stopping short of the bag. Price doesn’t flinch. “Never needed to be friendly to do my job.”

“So I hear,” Price crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his shoulders back, watching the door. There’s something easy in the motion, unimpeded. Ghost’s eyes flick to the shadows on the wall, then back to Price. The gym is strangely empty, all the life filtered out and the shadows silent. He hadn’t noticed how alone they were until now.

“Where’s your dog?”

Price turns his attention back to him, there’s something sharp in his eyes, something warning. “Thankfully somewhere they can’t hear you call ‘em that.” Price’s tone is even, but dangerous. Ghost clenches his jaw, biting back the words he wants to say. He doesn’t know how Price can’t feel the same rolling disgust about their situation. He’s in the same boat, deemed too dangerous by Hell to exist without an escort. Monster enough to need another monster keeping him company. “They’re off with yours,” Price says finally, “looking over your contract.”

“Which one,” He knows which one, but Price still humors him.

“Not the one you’re hoping for, but if you really want a discharge-”

“I don’t.”

Ghost turns his attention back to the punching bag. He rolls his shoulders, the ease of motion doesn’t sit right. He ignores it. Price lets him wallow in silence, lighting a cigar while Ghost avoids the elephant in the room. Contract. He shouldn’t be beholden to something he never signed. He didn’t mean to summon a demon, he didn’t mean to attach himself to you, he didn’t mean for or want any of this. For God's sake he was barely holding on to his humanity as it was.

Maybe this is good, showing him what he still has to lose, how desperately he still clings to the hope that he could go back. Back to being Simon, to being human, to being something more than a machine part, the teeth on a meat grinder meant to rend flesh apart. He’d always hoped Ghost was just the shell, but maybe he’d spent too long hollowing himself out. Maybe Hell was right and there was nothing left to go back to.

Price lets out a long hard breath, waving his hand to clear the smoke so it doesn’t set off the alarm. He tucks his lighter back in his pocket while Ghost digs his nails into the wraps covering his palms. There’s a ringing in his ears that grows louder as Price smokes. 

There’s something wrong with him, something dark and twisted that he was managing, plying with corpses to keep quiet. He was doing well, he was handling it. He was handling having a demon, it wasn’t ideal, but it was manageable. You were a useful tool, he could work with tools. He was a tool, and you were a tool. An unfortunately matching set. He squeezes his fists tighter.

You were so warm.

“So what’s wrong with ‘er?” Price’s voice jerks him out of his thoughts.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Ghost is quiet. There are a million ways he could explain it. Price would understand, he’d sympathize, maybe he’d even have some advice. There are a million ways he knows he could explain it, but he doesn’t have the words for any of them. He’s never had the words for anything. Probably why he didn’t finish his schooling.

What’s wrong with you? You pushed him, you did something to him during sex that made him want to hurt you. No. He’d already wanted to hurt you, had those awful thoughts festering in the recesses of his brain where he knew they couldn’t hurt anyone, and he’d acted on it. He yelled at you, he slammed drawers and made a fuss. He wanted to hurt you. He did hurt you. You made him feel- 

You made him feel like his father, like Roba, like none of the good he’d done meant anything. Hearing you beg- he’s heard those words from too many people: his mother, Tommy, himself. He thought he was better than that. He was kidding himself.

“S’like lookin’ in a mirror,” Ghost rumbles, his voice low enough he isn’t sure Price heard it.

“A mirror,” Price repeats with a disbelieving hum.

“Everything I- Christ-” Ghost drags a hand down his face, feels the friction of his hand wraps against the balaclava and frowns. “I see her and I can feel my old man putting his ideas in my head.”

“His ideas?”

“Wantin’ ta hurt ‘er, wantin’ ta-” It hits him quick, needles his brain. He knows this technique, knows it because he’s heard Price use it enough times before handing Ghost the pliers. He’s too trusting of Price. He’s being interrogated.

Ghost growls and rips the velcro on his wraps, tugging the canvas off his hands with quick motions. The gentle burn of it unraveling from between his fingers barely doing anything to ground him. Price watches him, his smoke filling the room, heavy where it touches his shadow. There’s something crawling in the air, something choking that Ghost can’t attribute to the cigar. The gym is empty, oppressively empty. Ghost’s skin crawls, Price’s stance hasn’t changed, but he’s different, his eyes are harder, challenging Ghost to make a wrong move. His shadow has grown horns.

“We’re not done,” Price tells him evenly. Fire licks at the ice of his irises, sparking anger in Ghost before he can stop it. Even the most docile dog bites its master when cornered.

Ghost cools his fury, fixes Price with a glare as he rolls his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension. Briefly he wonders if he’d feel the same stomach churning pressure with you hanging off of his shoulders. Your weight always seems to negate any other that tries to hold him down.

Price tips his head, and Ghost hears a softer voice tell him, “We’re done.” It bites into Ghost’s blood. He trusts Price, but this? This is pushing it. He’s always hoped to be doing enough good in the grand scheme of things to negate a fraction of the death and destruction. Was that wrong? Were they all being puppeteered by Hell? Was it all for nothing? Should he have felt it; that he’d become worse than his father?

“They got you on a short leash,” Ghost challenges, unable to stop the bite in his tone. Price’s eyes narrow, warning, but all Ghost can feel is the white hot burn of anger.

“I’m tryin’ to help you,” Price assures him, but it feels hollow. Something shifts in Price’s eyes, some twitch in his brow that feels too fleetingly soft. It’s the sort of look that tells Simon, “I got you into this mess, let me get you out of it.” It feels like his ribs could collapse in on themselves, like his lungs are suddenly too empty to fill again. 

“You can’t,” Ghost assures him, shoving Simon back into the dark, “there’s nothin’ left to ‘elp.”

Price hums. “You’re a bad liar Simon, always have been,” He takes a drag from his cigar and waves away the smoke of his exhale, “Skip mess and be in my office by 1800.”

-

It’s not your weight in his shadow that alerts him to your presence. It’s your laughter. Bubbling and just slightly at the edge of raspy, watery, almost. It twists the knife in Ghost’s chest. You shouldn’t sound happier when you’re away from him. You shouldn’t- Actually you shouldn’t be out of your shadows. You never seemed eager to pull yourself out of the darkness before, but here you were loud and bright as ever. Ghost stops his stalk through the hall, parks himself at the corner to listen. Your ever present babble of speech makes his heart flip. He didn’t realize how quiet everything felt without you murmuring in his ear.

“Maybe it’d be best if you stayed with us for a while,” A newly familiar male voice says, the concern is evident in his tone, but it sparks in Ghost’s stomach. Annoyance, must be. The product of disregarding direct orders, not offering advice to someone that isn’t wanted. What a pair they must make.

“Dinnae ken if my back can take tha’,” Soap groans, “May as well have Gaz’s shoulder the way Ahm clickin’.”

Ghost closes his eyes, knocks his head against the concrete wall. Soap. Fine, count him off the list of people he could gripe to, if you’re riding his shadow there’s no reason to go seeking the man out.

“Should have his fuckin’ pelt the way he’s treating you,” Hush grumbles.

“Ghost’s alrigh’,” Soap defends, “just a li’l rough around the edges, dinnae let him get to ya.”

Another flip, his stomach this time. Ghost shakes his head, more than rough around the edges, he’s rough all the way down. No reason to defend a man who’s already proven himself to be demon enough for Hell to keep an eye on. Ghost pushes off the wall and tries not to glance down the hall as he continues his way past the junction. A difficult task when you’re at the other end of it made even worse with the way Hush touches you.

Just a hand on your shoulder, thumb stroking over the army green tee you’re wearing, but it boils in his blood, sings through his ribs like a howling wolf. It pisses him the fuck off seeing you smile at that man. Hush glances his way with a glare. You follow his gaze and your smile drops seeing Ghost staring.

Why does it feel so much like he’s caught you in the act? You’re just standing there, holding his gaze, daring him to look away first.

You’re cute in fatigues.

He tears his eyes off of you to glare at Hush. “Try to keep the insubordination to a minimum, yeah?”

“Ghost,” You sound concerned, on the edge of an explanation that doesn’t come. He doesn’t like it. He turns away, keeps walking.

“Coward,” Hush mumbles.

It stings, but the truth so often does.

-

You fill his thoughts. An unbidden, contagious, line of thinking that ruins his focus. He thinks of everything but fucking you. Thinks of the way you’d purred, and the way you’d laid against him. He thinks of your voice in his ear, the diagrams drawn in thin air, the weight of shadowed weapons. He thinks of the softness of your hips, the dig of his fingers into your thighs.

He thinks of the way his hands had wrapped around your neck in disgust. Thinks of the way you’d gasped and clawed at him. He thinks of how he’d felt doing it, the wash of guilt and shame that it brought. He’d liked it, and you’d done nothing to stop him.

He thinks of the way you’d smiled at him, the way you’d smiled at Hush. How could they feel so different? How could he feel so different? 

He tapes his hands too tight when he goes to beat the bag in the gym for a second time. It hurts each time his fist collides with the stiff fabric. It’s good, deserved even. Men like him don’t get softness.

He remembers the way you’d pressed your lips to his jaw, and whispered for him to get some sleep.

He hadn’t slept so well in years.

-

Ghost doesn’t bother knocking on the door to Price’s office until he’s already got his hand on the handle. Barely waits to be told ‘enter’ before he’s opening the door. He shouldn’t be surprised to see you, can feel the weight of you starting to slip onto his shoulders just by proximity. It makes him tired, warmth seeps into his bones like a heavy quilt and 

“There are three ways humans can acquire demons,” Price’s demon explains, “People like Price who summon them are more traditional by human standards.” Ghost’s eyes fix on Price, what do they mean summoned? Price catches his eye and nods once, short.

“Heard the rumors, figured as long as I was getting blood on my hands I’d do it properly,” Price sniffs, “we do what we have to, to make the world safer. Nothing else to think about.”

“But-” The demon interjects, obviously not happy about the interruption, Price shrugs, “Cases like yours aren’t that uncommon. Plenty of soldiers out there have to compartmentalize their humanity in order to do what’s necessary, you were just a little better at it.”

“Suppose’ to be a compliment?” Ghost narrows his eyes at the demon, they seem unphased.

“It’s a fact. You’ve compartmentalized the humanity most people wear publicly, you’re a dead-man-walking. No time for human emotion, no desire to share your secrets, no desire to learn anyone else’s. You only care about getting closer to the kill you’re tasked with, here to do one job and one job alone.” The demon takes a breath, lets it out and shakes their head. “You take pleasure in your work, some unknown force is paying for what happened to Simon with every enemy you kill. Well, this is what you get-” They gesture to you, “a weapon to help you keep exacting your revenge, with enough humanity to help you sleep at night.”

“Didn’t ask for your ‘elp.” Ghost growls, “was doin’ just fine wi’out ‘er.”

“And humanity was doing just fine killing each other without the atomic bomb,” The demon shrugs, “You adapt, you find better ways to kill each other, and we update our recruitment tactics.”

“The contract sweet’eart,” Price rumbles.

“It’s Hell, the fine print has fine print,” The demon sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose, “If you were expecting a termination clause there isn’t one, the best we can do is revise it.”

“I actually-” Ghost’s head jerks at your voice, it sounds so much smaller than the last time he heard it, you seem smaller, it tugs at something he buried long ago, “-had a thought on that.”

“Let’s hear it,” Ghost prompts. You glance at him, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he can’t put a name to. He knows it well enough, felt it enough times to know when it’s staring him down. It chafes at him, he doesn’t want you to look at him like that. “Good for you to get away from me too, don’t wanna be around a woman that think’s I’m gonna hurt ‘er.” That only seems to make it worse, your smile is so forced that you may as well have a gun to your head.

“You could’ve told me, I wouldn’t have-”

“But I did,” hurt you, Ghost cuts himself off, forcing the correction, “you did.”

He couldn’t have told you. Wouldn’t have told you. What did you need to know about him that you couldn’t see? He was a machine made for slaughter, and you wanted to be the butcher’s knife. That was all you needed to be. He didn’t know why you tried so hard to get closer. He didn’t like-

“If the contract is to provide him some humanity, we just need to get him to a point where he doesn’t need me anymore.” You smile at the other demon. Their eye twitches, their expression impassable.

“If you were unable to fulfill the contract,” Price’s demon starts, before shaking their head, “No, revisions are the best bet.”

“Let ‘er try,” Price decides, “Simon can make adjustments in the meantime.”

-

“This is exciting,” You chirp, “like a really intense mandated therapy sort of thing.”

Ghost hums, does his best to ignore the way you stretch out on his bed. It’s been less than 48 hours without you and somehow it settles the squirming in his chest to see you making yourself comfortable. It also churns in his stomach. You smile to yourself, pleased. He doesn’t know how you can be happy with the way things are shaking out. Don’t you want to get away from him?

“I was thinking we could start with something really easy, and you could share some music or something,” You say, rolling onto your side, “you know you can really learn a lot about someone from the music they listen to. Me, I like all that techno stuff, the real bee-boop-y crap that you can feel in your chest.”

Ghost tries to focus on the damage he took in the gym earlier, the bruised knuckles, the split that’s broken his skin where the wraps cut too tight. Your voice is so nice to hear again, the softness of it cradles him in a way he can’t explain. Your weight in his shadow presses onto his shoulders, pressure points he didn’t know he could miss until they were gone.

“You look like a metal kind of guy,” You continue, “I don’t mind metal, maybe you we could listen to some of your favorite songs some time, like a date-”

Ghost flinches and you shut your mouth with an audible click. Ghost swallows, digs his blunt nail into the split skin on his knuckle until it bleeds. He needs something to ground him, to keep him from feeling the flush that spreads over his neck. You’d be better off- He’d be better off without you.

“Maybe favorite foods are better!” You try, your voice taking on too much excitement for him to cut out, “I bet you have something really sweet you like, did your mom bake? Mine did and I-”

“Would you stop being so damn cheerful?” Ghost snaps, you flinch to sit up straight and he lowers his voice, “I-” He stops himself, looking away. Silence lapses between you.

“What would you have me do Ghost?” You ask, shoving down the hurt until it cools in your stomach. He shakes his head, avoiding your eye. “You don’t like when I’m upset, you don’t like when I’m happy. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know,” He admits, the feeling sours in his throat like bile. He can’t swallow it down, can’t put it on a shelf like he always does. He feels the question he always wanted to ask but never had the courage to hear the answer to biting into him. “Aren’t you angry?”

You blink at him, your brows pulling down as your lips do. He doesn’t see where the confusion is coming from, if it’s confusion at all. Your mouth moves as you swallow, working through the words he’s sure you have bubbling in your throat. “No,” you say finally, “I might be later, but right now-” you shake your head, “I’m just drained.”

It kills him. He knows the feeling, the way shutting the door to his room always seemed to take all the air out of him. Anger seemed like such a constant companion these days, he’d assumed it was just that, a constant. “Are you angry?” You ask, the softness in your voice cuts him too deeply. It makes him want to turn and run. Fuck he’s always run from these things, it’s in his nature. Run until he can figure out how to solve the problem. Run away and join the army until he can get his shit together. Run away when his family’s destroyed, run from his name and his face, bury the man that died in Mexico deep in his soul.

“No,” He admits, though that admission feels like iron against his teeth, he’d rather gut himself than put his emotions to words, but he has to start somewhere if he’s going to get rid of you, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” You hum, “can feel it.” You pat the bed next to you, and somehow it feels settling. Ghost takes the steps he needs and perches on the edge of the mattress next to you. The springs creak, dip under his weight, and you lean against his side.

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, “I don’t know how to be good for you.”

“Me neither,” Simon mumbles, feeling your head rest against his shoulder. Your fingers lace with his, thumb swiping over his bruised knuckles. He doesn’t know how to be good for you either. All he knows is you’re the one person he can’t run away from, and it scares the shit out of him.

#excuse me #*MUFFLED SCREAMING INTO PILLOW* #so as i was saying—

[sageyxbabey]

obedient ; price & ghost | follow up to peppers

the captain’s cerulean gaze wasn’t the only set of eyes burning a hole into you. while the captain was fantasizing about bending you over his desk and thrusting his cock inside your wet cunt, the lieutenant’s honeyed eyes were staring at you and fantasizing about the exact same thing.

warnings/tags: smut, fem reader, fem anatomy and pronouns, perv simon, fantasizing, voyeur/exhibitionism elements, panty sniffing simon.

notes: dedicated to @sunnynomoar !! the next part will have more of the poly aspect but i figured i’d give you this for right now. thank you for all of your support throughout everything and all of your amazing work for rtc!!!! i love you mwah! intentionally lower case. READ PART 1 BEFORE READING THIS. ghosts pov takes place directly before the price office scene in part 1. part 3 and 4 coming soon!

word count: 3k+

Ghost, whose eyes instinctively gravitated towards you once you were assigned to the Task Force. How you followed every order to the highest quality, always eager to impress him. How your pretty eyes followed him as he spoke, paying close attention to every word he said, every syllable that fell from his lips.

Treating every word he spoke like it was gospel. And oh, how he yearned to see you on your knees. Worshipping him.

Ghost, whose eyes bored into you from the very moment you walked into any room. You could feel his gaze burning into you, his honeyed brown eyes framed by the darkness of eye black and the shadow of his mask. It would make your heart race every time.

Ghost, whose eyes would be looking at your hair tied up and out of your face, and imagining his hand buried in the (curls/braids/strands) while he rutted into you. Imagining himself gripping your hair in his calloused hand and twisting so it was wrapped around his hand, in a perfect handle. Imagining himself pulling your hair until your head was tilted back, his chest pressed flush against your back while his hips slapped against your ass with each thrust.

Ghost, who would see you craning your exposed neck as you filled out documents. Ghost, whose eyes would trail along the span of your exposed neck and immediately imagine it littered with bruises of different shapes. He would imagine himself biting and sucking into the flesh of your neck, starting with your jaw and down to your collarbone, sucking particularly hard on your pulse point. He imagines himself leaving indentations in your skin, marks serving as evidence from his teeth digging into your flesh.

Ghost, who would feel himself getting hard as he imagined biting the crook of your neck while emptying his seed inside your warm cunt. Who would imagine himself cursing into your skin, groaning out your name as he bucked into you.

Ghost, whose eyes would skim along your body and drink in every plane and curve that made up your frame. Ghost, who would see you obediently clasp your hands behind your back, and imagine himself using your hands as a handle when plowing into your tight cunt.

Ghost, who would see your shirt ride up reaching for something on a high shelf, exposing a sliver of your plush stomach. His hands aching to slide underneath your shirt and feel the soft skin of your stomach, before trailing up to cup your tits. The same tits he would fantasize about whenever you would lean down in front of him, giving him a brief view down your shirt. He would catch a glimpse of your cleavage, the tempting dip between your breasts that he just itched to lick between.

Ghost, who would see that and instantly imagine jerking off onto your bare tits. Slapping the red head of his cock onto your pert nipples. Thrusting his cock between your tits while you held them together, ensuring the hold on his cock was tight. He could just imagine you looking up at him with those cute eyes as he fucked your breasts. You sticking your tongue out to lick at the head of his cock whenever he would thrust his hips forward. Finally, he would imagine stroking his hard length a few times until he pushed himself over the edge, hips stuttering as he stroked himself through, shooting rope after rope of his cum onto your tits. Maybe some even landing on your tongue.

Ghost, whose eyes were committing every detail of your face whenever he looked at you. How your cute eyes sparkled as you gazed up at him, looking at your lieutenant as if he hung the moon. Lashes fluttering as you blinked up at him. Your lips pouting as you focused on something. Research, debriefing, or especially when he was leading a training session. You would bite your bottom lip whenever you were particularly focused — he hungered to just smash his lips against yours and bite that sensitive flesh himself.

All he could imagine when you stared up at him with those fucking eyes, biting your lip, was you on your knees. Sitting pretty and obediently, because you were always so fucking obedient, staring up at him with glossed over eyes and pupils blown wide with lust. He could practically see you kneeling between his outstretched thighs, your arms resting on his clothed thighs as your shaky hands worked at his zipper. He could imagine your pulse thrumming next to your collarbone, heart racing with need and anticipation. He could imagine you biting your plump bottom lip between your teeth as you pull his boxers down and letting his hard cock spring against his stomach.

Fuck, he could just imagine your breath hitching at the sight of his cock, just like how your breath hitches when he adjusts your form in the gym, his body pressed against yours.

When you’re working out in the gym is when his self control is tested the most. And of course, he always had the worst luck of running into you at the gym.

Which is exactly what happened today.

Ghost, whose eyes would be glued onto you for the entire workout session. Even as he lifted dumbbells, his eyes would be trained on you through the reflection on the mirror in front of him. As he was doing sit-ups, his eyes would find your form every time he sat up. As he was running on the treadmill, he would look at you. No matter what he was doing, or what you were doing, your Lieutenants’ eyes would be drinking you in.

Ghost was forced to watch you start out by stretching — seeing your muscles shift under your compression tank top as you stretched one arm across your torso, pulling it tight with your other arm. He could see the hem of your sports bra through your tank top, and he could see the thin straps sitting on your shoulders.

Ghost’s breath hitched when you bent over to pick up a weight from the rack, your ass up while you reached down for the weight. He could see the thin fabric of your panties peek out from your black leggings, and as his eyes traced the lace trim of your white lingerie, all he could think about was yanking your leggings down past your knees. Pulling you against him, so his hips were pressed against your ass, his hard cock rubbing against your cunt. He would want to rip the flimsy lace right off you, letting it fall down to your ankles. He would want to palm at your ass, squeezing the ample flesh and gripping you as he eased his cock in.

Ghost would find himself imagining you bent over the exact same way while you took his cock, skin slapping against skin as he thrusted in and out. Hips rutting into you at a furious pace, moaning at the squeeze of your tight cunt around his cock. Bottoming out with every thrust, hitting your g-spot and making you cry out.

Ghost, who would hear your grunts and breathy sounds as you lifted weights, and his mind would spiral. His mind would fill with sinful scenarios, fueled by the suggestive noises you would make. He would imagine how you’d whine as he rolled his hips, finding a new, deeper angle to thrust into your wet pussy that gripped him so well. “Oh my god,” he could just imagine you whimpering as he hits that spongey spot just right, “Ghost, right there!” He would chuckle under his mask, a rumble deep from his chest as he hears you beg for more. “Yeah? You need your Lieutenant to make you feel good?” He would imagine himself teasing you, emphasizing his rank as he set a cruel pace thrusting right against that spot. “Fuck!” He would imagine you whining, “yesyesyes. please.”

Ghost, who would see you walk over to the treadmill after finishing your lifts and his eyes would be trained on you with every step. Every sway of your hips made his cock throb harder in his joggers. He clenched his jaw, trying to stay focused on the dumbbells he was lifting as you started running on the treadmill.

“God-fucking-damn it,” He would curse under his breath as he watched your breasts bounce. With each stride you made on the treadmill, your tits would bounce. Your hips would sway.

All he wanted to do was drop the weights on the floor and march over to you. He wanted to pick you up off the treadmill, no doubt making you let out a surprised yelp, and bend you over the fitness bench.

He wanted to pull your leggings down until they were pooled around your knees, exposing your ass and thighs to him. He wanted to squeeze the plush flesh of your ass, feeling your soft skin against his rough, scarred and calloused hands. He wanted to give your ass a spank, watching it recoil as his palm came down on your skin, and hearing you gasp.

He wanted to feel you squirm as you were bent over, feeling vulnerable and exposed and needy for his touch. He wanted to pull his mask up to his nose, kneel in front of your exposed ass and lick stripes across the soft skin. He wanted to dig his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass, leaving bite marks in the soft skin and marking it as his. He wanted to pull your white panties to the side to reveal your cunt, all soaked and swollen for him, desperate for his attention. He wanted to trace your lips with his finger, teasing you so cruelly by not dipping his fingers in just yet. He wanted to gather your wetness on his fingers and bring it to his lips, savoring the taste of your juices as you squirmed and whined for him to touch you more. He wanted to finally ease two thick fingers inside your tight cunt, feeling it squeeze around him. He wanted to hear you moan his name as he pumped those fingers in and out, in and out. He didn’t want to hear you moan “Ghost”. Not “Lieutenant”. He wanted to hear you moan his name. Simon.

He wanted to hear those wet sounds build as he moved his fingers in and out, using his thumb to rub at the sensitive bundle of nerves in your clit. He wanted to curl his fingers in search of that special spot, that spongey spot that made your hips buck. He wanted to hear every single moan and gasp and whimper that would fall from your lips as he worked you closer to orgasm. He wanted to push you to the edge and feel you coming apart on his hand, thrusting his fingers in at a mean pace until he heard you cry out in pleasure. He wanted to feel you clenching around his fingers as you came.

He would be yanked out of his fantasy when he heard you calling his name.

“Lieutenant?” His eyes would dart to you, his heart still hammering in his chest from all the thoughts running in his head.

You had already finished your workout, now you were standing a few feet in front of him with your water bottle in your hand. Your duffel bag with a change of clothes was slung over your shoulder. Your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, hair sticking to your forehead from a well spent workout session.

“What is it?” He would force out, trying to avoid your gaze as he recalled all of the images he conjured up in his brain. All of the positions he had conjured up.

“I was just saying that I’m done with my sets, the gym is yours.” You would grin politely at the Lieutenant, none the wiser to how much you were occupying his thoughts. Or how much you had caused a tent to form in his joggers.

Before he knew it, you were heading off to the showers that were attached to the gym. He heard you open a locker, presumably setting your clean clothes in it for after your shower.

The second that he heard the shower faucet turn on, it was as if his body moved on autopilot. He set the weights down on the floor, not bothering to re-rack them. His eyes were glued to the shower room entrance as his legs moved on their own accord.

He closed the distance between the gym and the shower entrance in five seconds flat, his combat boots hitting hard against the gym floor.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of your locker. Your new set of clean clothes were placed in the locker — a new sports bra, a tank top, panties and leggings. The showers were a good twenty feet away from the lockers, and your water was still running loudly — so you wouldn’t be able to hear anything he did.

He didn’t even know what he was looking for when he came into the locker room. He just felt this warm, animal need. For you.

Suddenly something caught his eye. A pile of dirty clothes sitting on the bench next to your locker. It was the sports bra, tank top and your leggings. Laying there on top of those clothes was also your white lace panties.

Bingo.

He reached down and plucked the pair of panties from the pile of your dirty clothes, still listening for your shower in case you turned it off.

As he held the fragile fabric in his hand, the same fabric that was on your body only a minute prior, touching your soft skin, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help raising your panties to his nose and breathing in. Breathing in your musk, your sweat.

Ghost, who was now in his locked quarters, grasping tightly at those same panties. Ghost, who was laying on his bed with his joggers pulled down just enough to fit his hand down the waistband. Ghost, who wasted no time in freeing his cock from his boxers and letting it spring against his stomach.

Ghost, who moaned your name as he jerked off.

Ghost, who thought of you while he stroked his hard cock. He thought of your pouty lips and how they would look wrapped around his cock. He thought of your pretty eyes looking up at him through your lashes, tears welling up and rolling down your cheeks as you choke on his cock.

“Bloody hell, fuck.” He moaned.

Ghost, who thought of you riding him as he kept stroking his cock. He imagined you straddling him, his hands holding onto your hips and guiding your pace as you grind on his cock. He imagined your breasts bouncing with each grind onto his cock, your nipples swollen and begging to be teased. He imagined himself reaching up and cupping your bare breasts, tweaking your nipple with his thumb. He imagined you throwing your head back in pleasure as you moaned out his name, “Simon!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck..” He cursed, chest heaving as he panted.

Ghost, who almost came at the thought of you cumming on his cock. The thought of your warm cunt squeezing on his cock as you screamed his name was enough to push him right to the edge. But before he could come to his own release, he brought your panties up to his face again and sniffed the fabric.

Ghost, who smelled your scent on the panties and imagined you sitting on his face. He imagined you hovering nervously over his face, tempting him with your sweet cunt — before he finally wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down to sit on his face. He imagined your sharp cry as he dove in, tongue flattening to lick a stripe along your cunt before dipping his tongue inside. He imagined groaning into your pussy, sending vibrations through your core and making you moan even more. He imagined licking every last drop of your juices as if he was in the desert and you were an oasis — drinking you up. He would be sloppy and messy and loud. He would growl into your pussy and hold your hips impossibly close, leaving you unable to squirm or twitch as his strong arms kept you in place. He would pay attention to every little moan, whimper or gasp. Every little jerk or buck of your hips that might indicate that you were close. Then he would moan into your pussy, encouraging you to cum on his face, to squirt on his tongue.

“Go on, cum for me. I know, I know.” Would be groaned, almost mockingly so, into your cunt, as his nose rubbed against your swollen clit. Then he would wrap his lips around that bundle of nerves and suck gently, pulling cries and moans from your lips as you would cum on his tongue.

As he sniffed your panties and imagined that scenario, Ghost felt that knot in his stomach build and build — until it unraveled. And his hips stuttered and jerked and twitched, his cock spurting rope after rope of white cum onto his chest.

Ghost, who couldn’t shake any of the images of you from his mind. No matter what he did. Whenever he looked at you, he saw the pictures he conjured in his mind. You bent over taking his cock. You on your knees sucking him off. You sitting on his face. You riding him in his quarters.

You. You. You.

He felt like he saw you everywhere. Anywhere he could possibly run into you at, he would end up running into you there.

The gym. The conference room. The training facility. The mess hall. The medbay. Price’s office.

Which is why Ghost supposes he shouldn’t be surprised at seeing you in Price’s office that day. That’s not what surprised him. It was your.. condition in the Captains office that surprised him.

He was just about to knock on Price’s door when he saw that it was open just a crack. Then he heard something that made his brows furrow under his mask and made his heart skip a beat.

“That alright, love? Feel good?” He heard Price ask. Ghost pressed himself against the wall next to Price’s door, making sure he wasn’t seen through the crack. He was taken back at the prospect of Price entertaining a fling in his own office. The Lieutenant was about to walk away when he heard something else that snagged at his attention. Your voice.

“Uh-huh,” Ghost heard you pant. Ghost’s breath hitched as he thought of you writhing under Price’s skilled hands. He should leave. He knew that. This was a private moment between the two of you. And Price was the Captain for god’s sake.

“I bet.” He hears Price mutter before he hears the sound of fabric being pulled. Then he hears you gasp out, “Oh my god.”

“Shhh, sweet girl. Just let your Captain take care of you.” He hears Price whisper to you.

Ghost couldn’t help himself. He pushed himself off the wall and quietly stepped up to the door. Just enough so he could see through the small sliver of space that peeked into the office.

His eyes widened at the sight, and he found himself almost gasping.

You were bent over Price’s wooden desk with the man himself pressed up against you. Your head was laid on your arms, facing away from the door. Your leggings had been pulled down and were pooled around your knees, along with your panties. Your thick thighs and plush ass were fully exposed.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ sight. You know that?” He hears Price praise you, praising your ass and your cunt. Even though Ghost couldn’t fully see it, he already wholeheartedly agreed with the Captain.

“T- thank you, sir.” Ghost heard you whimper, feeling his cock stir in his pants as you thanked Price. Like the polite, obedient soldier you were.

“Thought about this so damn much, doll. Thought about you so damn much.” He heard Price say, as he watched Price spread your ass apart. “This pretty pussy,” Ghost heard you gasp. “So fuckin’ wet. Dripping.” Price ground out, voice all gruff.

Ghost could just imagine the shiny, slick juices coating your cunt and dripping down your thighs. It’s all Ghost wants, all Ghost needs, to just dart inside and lick up all of the mess you were making on your thighs.

“You just need your Captain’s touch, huh? Need his fingers. His cock.” He heard Price all but growl, seeing the Captain press himself into you further.

You could only whine in response, squirming against the wooden desk.

“Lemme just..,” Price finally dips two fingers into your wet cunt, sliding in with ease because of how wet you were, “There ya go. Good girl.”

Ghost was practically drooling at the sight of Price pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy. He could hear the squelch of your juices with every thrust of Price’s fingers, mixed with the sweet moans you let out.

It was music to his fucking ears.

“Oh my god, Captain,” You moaned, all whiny and desperate. Your legs twitched as Price continued his ministrations on your cunt, his thick fingers working to stretch you out.

“I know, I know.” Price crooned in an almost sickly sweet tone, watching you squirm and twitch from the stimulation.

“Please, please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. More? Stop? You just needed to babble, your mind so clouded in lust and pleasure.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet girl. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” Price purrs, easing a third finger in. Wearing a smirk on his face as he watches your cunt stretch to accommodate the extra digit.

Ghost saw your hips jolt and buck against the wood, overwhelmed at the new intrusion. “Fuck,” He heard you mewl as Price filled you up with that third finger.

“Yeah? How’s that feel?” Ghost watched Price ask you, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to answer.

Not very coherently, anyway.

“So, f-fuck. Good.” You mumble, eyes scrunched shut as your Captain plunges his fingers in your cunt over and over. His fingers were so thick, so rough. It felt like using a small toy because of how big his fingers were.

Ghost saw Price smile, watching his shoulders shake as the Captain laughed.

“Mmm, good. Doin’ so well for me. Always so good for me.” Price murmurs, staring down at you with his piercing blue eyes.

“Always so well behaved. Obedient. You deserve to feel good, don’t you?”

You whined at that, still just squirming on the desk.

“Yeah.. you deserve to feel so fuckin’ good. You deserve to relax.” Price ground out. “So I’m gonna make you feel good, hmm? How’s that sound?” Price asked, still not expecting an answer from you as you were too mindless and cloudy with pleasure.

All you could do was nod over and over, full of desperation and anticipation.

Ghost watched as Price quickened his speed, thrusting his fingers in your soaking cunt at a furious pace. Price leaned down, till his clothed chest was pressed against your back.

“I’m gonna make you feel good. Me. Not Gaz. Not Soap.” Price crooned, his breath hot in your ear.

Then Price did the unthinkable. His blue eyes darted to Ghost. He looked right at Ghost, through that little sliver of open space. Ghost gasped.

“And not Ghost. Just me.” Ghost watched with wide eyes, feeling frozen in place as Price smirked. The bastard smirked while staring right at him.

Then Price curled his fingers at the perfect angle, making you cry out against the desk.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Price cooed in your ear as he pumps his fingers right against that spongey spot, all while staring right at Ghost.

“Price! Fuck, I’m gonna—,” You screech as he simultaneously uses his thumb to rub your swollen clit.

“Yeah, you can do it. Come on, cum for me. Yeah, yeah, there you go.” Price laughs as you squeeze around his fingers, soaking his hand and dripping down your thighs.

And Price did it all while smirking. Right at Ghost.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

🏷️: @warenai @viylikescats @cassiecasluciluce @divine--serenity @sunnynomoar @lilpothoscuttings @jumbojazzcats93 @krakenbabe @lordlydragon @violet-phantoms (let me know if i forgot to tag you or if you want to be added to my smut tag list)

#AND WHAT IF I FELL OFF A CLIFF #WHAT THEN

[sageyxbabey]

Simon “Ghost” Riley probably needs a moisture face mask or two after wearing those skull masks all the time

#BOOLGER #STOP IT IT’S TOO CUTE #i lovr it

[sageyxbabey]

Six of Swords

[sageyxbabey]

ncuti gatwa mentioning the polo ralph lauren x historically black colleges collection as inspiration for 15 did things to my mind,,,,,,,his brain is on another level of existence

[sageyxbabey]

ive watched this video 5 times in the last two days and it always makes me laugh til i get a headache & i wanted it on my blog but didnt find it anywhere so guess i gotta do it myself

[sageyxbabey]

[sageyxbabey]

33 / 1.8k / shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay :)

...

You emerge from the cold saltwater with a gasp and cling to the only thing you can—a metal buoy, just as freezing as the ocean.

Something brushes your leg. Again. Then you feel a jolt of pain.

A moment later, he surfaces—the mer who cut you off from the boat and pursued you here. He looms closer, curious eyes fixed on you.

"Don't come any closer!" you tell him, half-strangled by seawater. You wish you sounded stronger. Your throat burns raw and your voice is choked. You press yourself up closer to the tower-shaped navigation buoy in a vain attempt to pull yourself away from him.

Gaz cocks his head to the side at the command, his black eyes flickering to your mouth in recognition. He treads the rough water effortlessly, lazily, the shape of his body under the water rolling.

He understands you perfectly. Then he moves closer anyway.

You sputter, fingers slipping as you scrabble for a better hold to—you're not sure, pull yourself to safety? There's nowhere to go.

He looms over you. You turn your face away and press into the buoy as tightly as you can. He rests his hand against the metal near your head, claws digging into the rust. His eyes rake over your body. You’re cold. Wet. Scared. Gaz can’t keep his eyes from moving all over you. From your wild, dripping wet hair down to where you disappear into the sea, thin human skin flat against curved metal. All the soft, exposed flesh in between.

Tentatively—when he doesn’t grab you—you steal a glance at him. His broad shoulders are bare, skin dark and smooth. Scars mark the sculpted muscles of his chest and forearms. Saltwater in the open cuts on your arm force your attention back to the situation at hand. He spots the bloody rivulets running down your forearm at the same time you do. It’s not just a series of cuts—it’s a bite mark. He bit you.

Then something big brushes your leg. You jolt, kicking, your shin banging hard against the base of your safe buoy. You nearly jump out of your skin when a second mer surfaces right behind you.

Gaz follows your stare back to the second mer. It’s Soap.

Soap grins, razor-sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. His dark hair is drenched, swept back from his face and away from his eerie all-blue eyes. When you don’t react immediately, freezing up instead, his hands crawl up your waist. You shriek. Soap laughs at your reaction. He tightens his hands on your waist and pulls you so easily from the buoy into the cage of his arms.

You struggle to keep yourself aloft without anything to hold on to. Soap seems blasé about keeping you high enough above the surface to breathe. He's more interested in your peculiar human features—your gilless ears, your flat teeth, the soft skin that extends well past your waist and hips. Even Gaz moves closer, enthralled with the sight of you wrapped up in Soap’s arms, your comparatively tiny human hands gripping and splashing around in a way they’d consider rather cute. Like a kitten curling its paws around a toy rather than someone fighting just to stay afloat.

Your lungs still burn with salt and your sparse clothes cling to you as you twist in the waves. Desperate to escape, you shove your left hand against Gaz's chest and your right elbow against Soap's, trying to make room for yourself between them and lift yourself away from Soap's curious, clawed hands. But there isn't much you can do.

Gaz stares down at your hand lingering on his chest. You have such short, blunt, thin claws. How are humans supposed to protect themselves with those? He looks up to see Soap attempting to wrestle your squirming, slippery little human body more securely into his arms.

"I had her," Gaz says in their mer language.

You can't understand it. To you, it sounds strange and half-muted, but you can feel the depth of the vocalizations in Gaz's chest and snatch your hand away as if burned.

“And now I have her,” Soap says.

"You shouldn't have grabbed her. She’s riled up now."

 “You just want to be the only one to see her up close. You can share." Not to mention he knows how Gaz can be. If Gaz were to get his hands on you first, Soap would be lucky to see a damn thing, much less touch you. Soap, on the other hand, knows how to share. “Have a look at the skin. Like an eel’s, but with little hairs.”

Gaz glares at him but obliges, dipping under the waves as he moves closer. He can’t resist the temptation of that soft flesh, so different from his own. Especially when Soap’s already got his hands on you and is feeling you up as much as he likes.

He circles you slowly as his eyes adjust to see you better in the low light. The rest of you is just as interesting as what's above water, if not more. You've got knees. Feet, even. He skims a claw from your ankle to your thigh. You kick in response, and Soap's long tail twists in the water to keep hold of you. Your feet, your legs—they’re so tiny. All flesh, no fins at all. Even when you kick, they just slide through the water so uselessly.

Above the water, you cry out at the sudden feeling. Cold dread settles into your gut as you recognize these two for what they are—not just mer, but sharks. Their size and sharp teeth give them away. Not to mention their skin. It looks like human skin, but it's smooth when rubbed in one direction and sandpaper-rough in the other. Exactly like the skin of the creatures they mimic.

You push blindly against Soap's chest, ignoring the bite of his claws as he holds on to you. You're certain they're about to pull you underwater and drown you. Maybe eat you. You've already been bitten.

Then, over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear the distant sound of a boat's bell. You swivel your head to see a small rescue boat. Someone must have noticed you were snatched overboard. Instantly, energy pulses into your limbs again. You push yourself up as far as you can, nails digging into Soap's shoulder, and you wave your arms and shout for all you’re worth to get the rescue boat's attention.

Soap whips his head around to follow the sound of the boat. He knows exactly what it is, and he doesn't like it one bit. The more he tries to hold you still, though, the louder and shriller your cries get. There's no chance the boat will miss you like this. Humans have really good eyesight even without their little lights. He could just let you go. He wanted to see you up close, and he did. But with Gaz circling below the water, and with every little touch reinforcing his curiosity about you, and with the smell of your blood filling his senses, he decides he and Gaz haven't had nearly enough time to study you.

With a beat of his tail, Soap pushes away from you.

You sink instantly, gasping in a mouthful of saltwater as you struggle to right yourself. You break the surface of the water one more time, but all that comes out when you try to call for help again is a watery choke.

A clawed hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you down. Your head submerges. Everything goes muffled besides the sharp stinging in your nose, eyes, and the bite on your arm. Soap's grip is like steel, pulling you down, down, down until the surface is just a glittering ripple far away. Your wild thrashing just tires you out, which makes keeping you under easier. He can only imagine the kind of panic that’s taking hold. Humans are notoriously poor swimmers.

Your vision spots as you struggle. Soap knows exactly what he's doing. His blood sings in his veins, the thrill of the hunt overriding everything. The moment is perfect: you under his control even as you fight like good prey.

The pressure of the water grows immense. It presses in on your eardrums and your chest cavity. You fight against the urge to breathe, but you are well and truly running out of oxygen.

Soap feels your struggling grow weaker. There's no way you're getting away now. You’re all his.

Suspended in the water above you both, Gaz understands exactly what Soap's instincts are telling him to do. His are saying the same thing: to strike while you're vulnerable, disoriented, desperate.

Instead, he dives to Soap and stops him.

"What are you doing?" he snaps. "Humans can't survive in the water."

Soap blinks like he’s turning his brain back on. "Aye. Am only hiding her."

"For how long?"

"Til the boat leaves. Morning, maybe."

Gaz grits his teeth. Before Soap can protest, Gaz darts up and grabs you with a burst of speed, ripping you right out of Soap’s grasp. The way he hooks you into the inside of his elbow knocks the last of the air out of you.

Your head spins. Your body is wracked by a dry, painful cough, and your mouth opens as your body instinctively tries to find air. Water fills your lungs. Gaz feels you convulse. He clamps his hand around your mouth. But it doesn't do you any good.

He propels you both up toward the surface. But instead of breaking through, he swims parallel, leaving the rescue boat behind.

You’re clinging to the final frayed threads of consciousness when you finally break the surface of the water. Your back hits sand. The impact forces your diaphragm to push a mouthful of water loose. That gets you coughing again. You flip over and cough what feels like an unsurvivable volume of seawater out of your lungs.

You cough until every muscle in your stomach hurts. You keep coughing as you get to your hands and knees and drag yourself up the rocky beach. Gravel cuts and burrows into your hands and knees. You don't have the capacity to notice anything besides the air you're desperately swallowing.

As soon as you're not completely convinced you'll die here, you collapse onto your side, curling into a fetal position. You don't notice the two lambent pairs of eyes watching you from the shallows.

...

[part 1] / part 2

more Gaz / more Soap / masterlist tag

#GAZ MY HUSBAND #op how does it feel to be so cool and smart and cool

[sageyxbabey]

HELLOO?!?!

I JUST BINGED THIS OH MY GODDDDDD

32 / 1.4k / soap soulmate au, part 9

...

Soap goes still and quiet, his grip loosening. "People?"

"Human trafficking."

"How do you know?"

"Because security is quadrupled in the basement lounge. The client and his inner circle are scheduled to move downstairs after midnight. They're calling it an afterparty."

"You're sure it's not drugs?"

"I'm sure. I saw the dossier given to security downstairs."

Soap's mouth twists. The target sure as hell isn't leaving this place alive if he can help it. “Could’ve mentioned that earlier."

“I tried. Who do you think tipped Laswell off?"

That gives Soap pause. "Laswell? You’ve been in touch with her?"

"Once." You curl your fingers tighter into his vest and grab his chin to make him look at you. "Johnny, listen. If you kill him now, everything locks down. You won't be able to get into the basement. You need to get down there quietly with the element of surprise."

"What have you got in mind? Covert extraction, no prep, no briefing?" He raises one hand as if to cover yours, to trace along your knuckles. After so long, he can’t help it. He just wants to touch you. "That's a lot to ask. What was your plan if we didn’t show? Go it alone?"

"Figure it out as I go along, I guess."

"Christ, you're a headache." Soap's hand tightens around yours, gently pulling it off his collar to bring your hand up to his cheek. He turns up your palm and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You're on his side this time. He can't put into words how light it makes him feel. 

He makes a low sound in his throat before he pulls back again. He clicks on his radio. "Captain, LT, you'll want to hear this."

While Soap explains the situation on his team's comms, you put yourself back together, checking your rifle and your gear. He watches you the whole time. You’re not what he remembers—not the cornered animal he met in that interrogation room before. You're in your element. If he could, he’d drag you away, take you back to some safehouse somewhere, and focus on getting to know you in every way and every position he knows. Patience, he tells himself. After this mission, he'll have all the time in the world. 

After the brief conference--and Laswell confirming she’d received an anonymous, cryptic tip about stolen goods in the target’s favorite Swiss Alps resort--he turns back to you. "Price wants the target no matter what. We're pullin' back to regroup and plan our strategy."

Your stomach drops. "What? There's no time."

"You said it yourself: we have no intel, no time to prep, and no good way in. Civilians everywhere. If it goes tits up, people die." He grabs your hand and pulls you into the hall, heading for the stairwell. "We're fallin’ back and regrouping while we still can."

You jerk your hand out of his, stumbling back. "We have intel. I was briefed on this mission. I can get downstairs,” you argue.

You mean alone. Soap doesn't like that. "Not happening,” he snaps, his voice rough with frustration. He glares down at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth. “I know you can more than handle yourself, but not against a hundred of these bastards."

"Those bastards are my coworkers," you retort. "They won't look twice at me."

That's the worst part. Your familiarity with this place makes you an undeniable asset for this mission—that’s why he sought you out. The reason that’ll be in the official report, anyway. Damn it. He's torn between the knowledge that he should be happy you’re willing to help his team out and his desire to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of the building.

"You said yourself security's quadrupled down there. If it goes loud, you're done. I'm not lettin’ you play hero. No. Ain't happenin'."

“Then we find a different plan,” you argue. You've never met someone so hard-headed.

"She might have a point," Gaz's voice says in Soap’s earpiece. "If we find a way to bring security up to the ground floor instead, you and Ghost can get down there and find the hostages. Security's already jumpy with the power out--give them a reason to come upstairs and they will. It’s just a matter of finding a distraction. And we've got snipers posted. Distractions are easy."

Hearing Gaz, you nod. “I'll take the target and lead him into view for your snipers.”

Soap curses under his breath, running a hand over his mohawk. He wishes he’d turned his radio off. He doesn't like putting you at risk.

You huff and sling your rifle over your back. Time is slipping away. "I need to find the target. I'll wait for your signal and--"

Soap grabs your arm before you can walk past him. "Jesus, stop. Give me a minute to think."

"We don't have--"

"Time, I ken." Soap's grip tightens. He tugs you against him again, one hand going to the back of your neck to hold you in place. "You're not goin'. Not without me."

"That's ridiculous!" Your voice climbs despite the way he forces you closer--folds his arm around your lower back and pulls you chest-to-chest. "They’ll see you. And they’re not just going to arrest you, okay—they’ll kill you."

Soap’s expression tightens. "How do I know you won't abscond with the target? Wouldn’t be the first time you left us high and dry."

You close your mouth and stare at him. He’s worried you’ll betray him. Your gaze falls to his chest, silent, because it wouldn't be the first time.

At the look on your face, Soap’s chest feels like it’s caving in. But he keeps going before he loses his nerve. He doesn't care if it's selfish. "You disappeared. No word. No message. Not even a thank you. I'm not lettin' that happen a second time. One wrong move and I'm pullin' you out."

He lets go of you, unhooks the collar radio from around his neck, and puts it around yours instead. "Tell my team when and where you have the target in place. They'll take care of the rest."

You put the earpiece in place and adjust the bit around your neck. "Fine."

He stands still, arms crossed, as you adjust your gear one more time. Your nerves are shot.

You glance at him, an apology stuck in your throat. "I was going to contact you, I just..."

"Just what? Had more important things going on? Assholes to protect?" he snaps. He stalks closer, towering over you again. The frustration flashing through his eyes eclipses the sudden, haunted look of a man who hasn't slept well in weeks.

You press your hand to the armor on his chest and lower your voice. "I get it if you don't trust me. Just... trust that I want your target dead as much as you do."

"Promise me you won't disappear on me again."

You bite the inside of your lip and put your hand on his cheek. Something in your chest twinges when he leans into it. "I promise," you lie.

"Good." He closes his eyes and lowers his forehead to yours. He breathes deeply, committing your touch to memory.

Then he opens his eyes and angles your jaw up toward his, his mouth slanting over yours in a hard, possessive kiss that empties your brain completely. When he pulls away, his eyes glimmer.

"You’d better stand by that promise, darlin’,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “I let you go in Las Almas because you didn’t want my protection yet. Could’ve taken you with me whether you liked it or not, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you hatin’ me. Even if it meant keepin’ you safe.” The cool leather on his knuckles brushes tenderly against your neck. "But those reservations aren’t holdin’ me back anymore. I will do what needs to be done if you play games with me. You understand?"

You stare at him, heart thumping strangely. "I don't think that's... necessary."

“I hope it’s not.” He cups your jaw in his hands and brings your lips to his again. The kiss this time is gentler, softer—just a slow, intimate press that melts you completely. You’re breathless by the time he lifts his head. "When this is over, you're mine."

You nod weakly, not trusting yourself to speak.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / [part 9] / part 10

more Soap / masterlist tag

#it’s so good bestie!! #holy shit!!

[sageyxbabey]

bar fight (simon riley x gn!reader)

real quick drabble

“simon, come here.”

you tugged at his belt loop and he followed easily, like your own personal guard dog. “got somethin’ ta say t’ me, dove?” he grinned down at you through the mask, all confidence from the whiskey coursing through his veins. his arms braced the wall near your head, trapping you in his atmosphere. the sense of him blocked out the background noise of the pub, of your team somewhere on the dance floor. just you and ghost.

“you’re a right idiot, ya know.” an idiot for almost smashing a man’s face in for touching your waist without permission. you and simon had been dancing around each other for a while, but he just elevated the situation. simon nuzzled your cheek with his, mouth whispering into your ear. “he touched what’s mine, yeah?” you huffed, turning away from him. “you haven’t done anything to make me yours.”

simon clicked his tongue at that, a gloved hand shooting out to force your jaw in place, eyes locking on each other. “come off it. we both know ‘m yours. yer just takin’ yer time.” your eyebrows shot up. he was so blatant, so convinced. “and what if i need more time?” his hand was still on your chin, thumb rubbing your bottom lip slowly.

“‘ve got all the time in the world for you, dove.”

—

inspired by this belt loop post

#CARDIAC ARREST

[sageyxbabey]

[sageyxbabey]

dammit i can't stay away😩🤦‍♀️

he's been a regular in the local cafe where you work.

it's been about two years since he moved into town.

he mostly keeps to himself, highly secretive and avoids small talk like the plague.

you thought you had to torture him to even get his first name out of him.

"come on! at least tell me your name!" you asked, curiosity bubbling up inside you.

"simon." he muttered under his breath.

"there we go! that wasn't so hard now, was it simon?!" you said with a light chuckle, receiving a low scoff in turn.

he didn't even tell you he's in the military. you figured it out by the dog tags dangling around his neck, occasionally peeking through his shirt.

(not that you were staring at his chest👀💀)

and you brought it up once, "you in the military?" you asked with curiosity, thinking to yourself that you have finally found a subject he's interested in.

"yeah." he replied in a flat tone and took a sip of his bourbon. maybe you thought wrong.

"so? what's it like?" you coaxed him into a conversation only for him to pull away even further, only giving one-word answers.

"brutal." he responded in his usual monotone voice.

you notice the thoughtful look etched on his face, "that bad? how do you cope?" you asked to further the conversation.

also actually curious since you've known some distant relatives who were in the army and didn't take it well.

"you learn to live with it." he said and that was the end of that conversation.

though, you pat yourself on the back for this new achievement. that was the longest conversation you've had!

he occasionally makes snarky remarks about annoying customers or the game playing on the tv which make you chuckle.

his humor is dark and deadpan which adds to the already bleak and cold aura he carries.

sometimes he keeps you company at the backdoor where you take your smoke breaks.

he lights the cigarette and takes a drag as you stare longingly, gods he's so handsome!

he holds the cig to your lips and you come back to reality before he realizes you've zoned out.

you spend some time together like this, in a peaceful silence, with no expectations, just enjoying each other's presence.

hours turn into days, days turn into months as the fondness in your heart grows and grows...

until one day you conjure up the courage to finally ask him out.

seconds turn into minutes, minutes turn into hours and there's no sign of him.

that's odd...

he must have been sent on a deployment, you think.

so you decide to keep your heart concealed for a little bit longer... or even longer...

[sageyxbabey]

ME?! getting recommended?! :0

girl stahp i’m gonna blush…

can you recommend any COD fics? I’ve become interested

Thank you so much for asking me this question!

It turns out that I have a lot of fic recs… I just kept adding and adding to the list. Putting this together took like two days because I just kept going and going 🤣

There are smut links below - I didn’t bother labeling them specifically, so preceded with caution. As usual, read all of the respective author’s warnings before reading their work!

Also, I tried not to tag anyone twice but I probably missed some doubles. If any links are broken, please let me know!

Alejandro Vargas

Pros & Cons - @homicidal-slvt

Best Friend’s Dad - @allemantheias

NSFW Alphabet - @ghostsvacuumcleaner

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Whiskers & Wishes - @sageyxbabey

Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend - @gloomwitchwrites

Baby It’s Cold Inside - @kyletogaz

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts - @soapsgf

Better Not to Know (ch. 1) - @random-thot-generator

Simon “Ghost” Riley

I’m So In Love With You - @nomadstucky

Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend- @/gloomwitchwrites

Please, Love Me - @/rowarn

Through Me (The Flood) - @/peachesofteal

Ex!Husband Simon - @oceantornadoo

Baby, It’s Cold Inside - @kyletogaz

Plane Crash - @ceilidho

Simon’s Girl - @audisive

Ghost & his tiny gf - @/ramagallery

Roommate!Simon - @schrodingerscougar

Snappy Reader - @lovelyghst

Ex-Husband!Simon - @cntloup

Simon Riley x Soap’s Sister - @seresinhangmanjake

Period Sex w/ Simon - @cntloup

New Year’s Fireworks - @i-am-hungry-24-7

Love Language - @yeahjadefinitelyfeel

Simon’s Love - @tojisun

John “Soap” MacTavish

Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend - @/gloomwitchwrites

Enamored - @/rowarn

Soulmate AU - @all-purpose-dish-soap

Second Chance - @bookbrokelibrarian

Virgin x Soap - @/captainfern

Johnny Has Amnesia - @manticore-fangs

Safe Word - @lunarw0rks

An Interesting Errand - @mi-i-zori

Captain John “Bravo-6” Price

Good Fences - @the-californicationist

The first chapter of the “Good Fences” Fluffubury series. I’ll list the next few chapters below. This is one of my favorite Captain Price stories, it’s so good! 🥰

Good Fences / ch. 2

Good Fences / ch. 3

Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend - @/gloomwitchwrites

The Ocean - @peachesofteal

The Neighbor - @ivymarquis

Stay Away - @captainfern

Bear Shifter! Price (part 1) - @/ceilidho

Phillip Graves

You’re Being Detained - @writersdrug

The House Sitter - @shadowlali

Overstimulation w/ Graves - @/captainfern

My Favorite - @aphrodisiaxcunt

König

Experience - @rowarn

Bad Boyfriend - @lunarw0rks

All of the 141

Just Like Dad - @/gloomwitchwrites

Sex Pollen - @shotmrmiller

Self Esteem - @waiting-so-long

Showering With the 141 - @mushies-stories

Drunk Reader (Part 1) - @mushies-stories

Reader w/ Amnesia - @bookbrokelibrarian

Love Bites - @l0velylecter

Reactions to you flinching - @empresskylo

Controversially Younger GF - @sweet-as-an-angel

Author Recommendations

Author Recs - (courtesy of @/captainfern)

#universitypenguin #AND WITH SUCH GOOD COMPANY!!

[sageyxbabey]

Please if you have the means consider buying an e-sim for Gaza! It’s very quick and easy!

Link to gazaesims ->

[sageyxbabey]

date a forest god who will send you signs in your everyday life, so that you always know he's near

[sageyxbabey]

HAHAHA 😐

thinking of mermaids AGAIN sooooooooooooooo

Merman!Ghost x Mermaid!Reader (for Mermay 2024)

cw: dubcon elements, rough sex, SELF-INDULGENT and therefore weird mermaid biology, (suspend disbelief idk and idc about mermaid biology, i just wanted to write ghost fucking a mermaid.), forced?-ish breeding (both parties were aware of the risks)

Merman!Ghost who's actually a selkie... of sorts.

Merman!Ghost who took the coat of a GREAT Greenland shark over three centuries ago and has lived as a shark ever since...

Merman!Ghost who's a deep dweller and has become quite the hunter, using the darkness of the depths to attract dumb prey so he can kill them.

Merman!Ghost who's not above mauling humans, in fact he despises them, especially when he finds them hurting animals. Sure, he kills them, but he's an animal himself.

Merman!Ghost who when he's bored causes issues on purpose, including scaring fish and other underwater life, and finds great humour in it.

Merman!Ghost who constantly gives trouble to fishing boats by trying to sink them, slamming his tail on the side of them to send them rocking side to side... and by ripping their nets with his teeth...

Merman!Ghost who has had horror stories and cautionary tales told of him by many navigators, pirate captains, sailor crews... who has become somewhat of a legend, a myth, and gets referred to as "The Creature".

Merman!Ghost who's not immune to mermaid song, surprisingly enough, but who can resist it plenty well.

Merman!Ghost who hears the lilting of your voice through the dark water but doesn't seek you out.

Merman!Ghost who succeeds in resisting... for days, weeks, months...

Merman!Ghost who awakes to the endless sound of your singing bubbling into his ears, and gets lulled to sleep by it as well.

Merman!Ghost who finds himself going insane by your voice, that follows him like a backdrop for every waking moment of his life, and cannot tune it out.

Merman!Ghost who eventually bites the bait and allows himself to rise from his domain.

Merman!Ghost follows your voice as it carries for miles upon miles.

Merman!Ghost who comes across a natural cave by the beach. Way too close to the beach. Close enough for him to know he'll end up washing up and getting stuck.

Merman!Ghost who checks both sides, making sure the beach is empty before he tentatively strips off his coat for the first time in years.

Merman!Ghost who stashes his coat between the rocks, covering it with algae before he dares venture into the cave.

Merman!Ghost who can't see as easily without the shark eyes, who can't swim as well without the shark fins, who can barely walk because all his human muscles are atrophied.

Merman!Ghost who wades in waist deep water into the darkness of the cave, looking around for you, his burly, calloused hands using the rocks as crutches to seek you out.

Merman!Ghost who only notices you when it's too late... when your song suddenly stops and the water splashes as you dive back in.

Merman!Ghost who watches you zoom past him in the water, a slippery fishtail propelling you in a zigzag amidst the rocks before you emerge out of the cave.

Merman!Ghost who watches you grab his shark coat and try to make off with it...

Merman!Ghost who takes his sweet time returning back to the mouth of the cave, watching you bob on the water with a mischievous smirk on your lips.

Merman!Ghost who demands "Give it back."

Merman!Ghost who scowls when you tell him "No." and "If you want it back, you have to marry me."

Merman!Ghost who crosses his arms and glares at you, shaking his head and refusing.

Merman!Ghost who scowls even more when you tell him "Then I guess it's bye bye to your skin.".

Merman!Ghost who despises being a human more than he despises the prank you're pulling on him.

Merman!Ghost who tries to negotiate and offers you something in exchange for his coat.

Merman!Ghost who pushes you against the rocks at the entrance of the cave as the cold water and seafoam wash over you both while he kisses you, pressing his tongue, the only warm part of his body, into your mouth, toying with yours.

Merman!Ghost who licks at the salty sea water glistening on your skin and the scales adorning your pretty neck, an arm wrapped around the small of your back.

Merman!Ghost whose human fingers, pale and wrinkled from the salt water, wrap around your exposed breast, softly tugging on the pert nipple while his mouth kisses and sucks at the patches of skin amidst your scales.

Merman!Ghost who tsk's at you for having been singing for so long to attract him, and scolds you for getting him so riled up for weeks on end with your song.

Merman!Ghost whose hands push you up onto the rocks so he can dip his head down your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it slowly and watching you mewl and cry so beautifully.

Merman!Ghost who gets a reminder of the one positive side of being a human, as his human cock rises up suddenly and stiffly, large and thick, already oozing precum against your tail scales.

Merman!Ghost who carefully grinds his leaking cock against your slick cunt, right before the spot your thighs meet and blend into a tail.

Merman!Ghost who turns you over, bending you over the rocks, one hand on the back of your neck, the other steadying you around the bones of your hip...

Merman!Ghost who plunges his hooded cock deep into your cunt, causing you both to cry out in delight, eyes rolling and jaws going slack as he bottoms out.

Merman!Ghost who bullies his cock deep into your cunny, feeling how your warm, gummy walls contract and squeeze around him while he groans loudly.

Merman!Ghost who pounds away at you again and again, hearing your voice go high-pitched and squeaky with each snap of his hips, finally shattering the mind-numbing and intoxicating mermaid song he's had stuck in his head for weeks.

Merman!Ghost who watches you squirm and whine as you cum around his thick cock, nearly choking it with how tight you get, before he slams his hips against the back of your tail a few more times, and shoots his cum deep inside you.

Merman!Ghost who watches smugly how blissful, quiet and calm you are after he's done, breathing heavily and your body buzzing.

Merman!Ghost who snatches his shark coat from your hands as you're too fucked out to remember you're meant to keep it out of his reach.

Merman!Ghost who puts his shark coat back on and morphs back to the shape he's comfortable in, then wraps his maw around your tired body, beginning to drag you underwater with him.

Merman!Ghost whose body rumbles with a laugh when you try to get free and loosen his grip on you, demanding he let you go.

Merman!Ghost who tells you "I thought you wanted me to be your husband? Well, I made you my broodmare too... Now I have to take care of you."

#vague grumbling predator animal noises