#past roach x ghost

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Been a while since I’ve done one of these but! We’ve got the usual Ghost mistaking Soap for Roach but instead Soap just reverts back to friendly Soap.

Like he gets mistaken as Roach once and goes ‘yeah-nah. Not playing that game’ and goes back to how he was before.

No touching, no flirting, none of it. The first time Ghost tries to kiss him and Soap rejects it he gets all confused and hurt but then Soap goes “Listen. I can’t be Roach for you. Whether it was an accident or not doesn’t matter, it hurt and I’m not going to put myself there.”

Which, fair enough. But Ghost finds himself missing it all. He misses waking up beside Soap and having the man be effortlessly affectionate with him. He misses the flirty banter and the way Johnny would pull him from his head with whatever the hell he saw fit.

It’s almost insane how much he misses it since they had only really been… dating (they’d never put a proper name to it but that was the closest approximation in Ghosts head) for less than a month.

But he can’t help the way his heart lurches when he sees Johnny and the man only smiles at him. None of that overly cheerful banter that held a hint of knowing when he dropped a comment that held a bit too much innuendo. None of the small touches that happened just because the Scot felt like it.

It sucks but he doesn’t know where to even begin if he wants to fix it.

[roachs-pet-roach]

okay so i js had a thought while fighting w/ my hair to look presentable:

Roach has weird hair. It’s too straight to be considered curly but too curly to be considered straight.

He treats it as curly hair (putting the curly hair shit in it and such) b/c if he doesn’t it gets frizzy (it gets frizzy anyways but its worse)

but he HATES it. he can never get it to look good and it’s impossible to figure out what the hell to do with it most days. Bedhead is the worst for him

Ghost and Soap love it. It’s fluffy. Ghost loves to gently run his fingers through it while Soap likes to mess it up more.

Roach can’t stand when they call it cute but at the same time he likes it. He’s very conflicted on his hair.

[greeneyedsigma]

(Just Ghost being an asshole featuring fem! Roach)

“Look, I realize you hate me, but can you at least not ignore me when we’re working?” Her words were met with the same silence she’d been receiving for the last 6 hours. Really made a girl feel good.

She pulled back from her scope slightly and glanced at the hand cradling the forestock of her rifle. The ethereal red string wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand glowed faintly in the dim light, for her eyes only. She followed the winding and looping trail that it left in the air, as she had done countless times since the string had revealed itself.

The trail ended at the hand of the man currently intent on pretending she wasn’t lying prone five feet away from him.

Fate was an asshole.

The exact words she’d told Price when he’d asked her if she would be okay going on this mission.

Because Ghost hadn’t exactly hidden his disdain for Roach when the string had appeared. Impressive, really, how he managed to convey it, given that his mask seemed to be permanently fused to his face.

Fate was an asshole for tieing her to a man very much in love with someone else who was now dead.

Like, where do you even start with that scenario?

It was as if her life was being dictated by a sadistic fucking dungeon master, “Your soulmate hates you because the man he loved was just KIA’d a few months ago. Now he tries whatever he thinks may sever the bond. Roll for emotional damage.”

So yeah, Fate was an asshole.

[fixfoxnox]

With every "Roach is ghosts dead fiance 🥺" or "Roach sent soap for ghost 🥺" I grow stronger. And one day, I will have enough strength to write a purely vindictive fic where SOAP is ghosts dead ex fiance and ghost falls in love with ROACH.

I'm gonna pull a switcheroo on them

Anyways GhostRoachSoap for the win

[cod-dump]

SoapGraves: Something Might Be There

(Onesided SoapGhost, mentioned/past RoachGhost)

___

He noticed small things here and there. Lingering stares, and if they brushed fingertips passing something off Graves would take his time pulling away. A pat on the back felt warm, affectionate. Ghost noticed too and when they were alone, he brought it up.

"He's taken a liking to you."

Soap scoffed, "Sure he has."

It was like as soon as Ghost said something, Soap started to notice it more. He swore he caught Graves just daydreaming while he looked at him, just slightly smiling. Soap didn't say anything, he wasn't sure what he would say if he did. Graves was attractive, charming. Much more attainable than Ghost. Whenever he tried to be friendly, Ghost brushed him off. Sure, sometimes he would laugh at his jokes or even make dumb jokes himself, but didn't seem to really mean anything to him.

It was like Ghost, in the beginning, was cold and uncaring. Then he began to open up, started to put down his walls. Then, without warning, the walls came back up. Soap never stopped trying, but it was getting more and more discouraging. One evening, after a mission that went sour (thanks to Soap ignoring a direct order), Soap tried to ease things over with Ghost after getting chewed out by Price.

"How 'bout a drink, yeah?"

"No, I have files to fill out after you botched the mission."

It was such a cold exchange and Ghost shoved past him so harshly that Soap almost lost his footing. Soap knew Ghost was mad, but he didn't think he was that mad. His words had stabbed into Soap's heart. So he decided he would go have that drink... Alone. Soap made his way to the local bar in the town neighboring the base. He saw a few fellow taskforce members and Shadows there, plus some of the locals. Soap found himself a isolated spot at the bar and got himself a drink.

Apparently Gaz was there and noticed him. The man made his way over after excusing himself from the table he sat at.

"Hey, man. You look like you had a rough day. Or should I say week?"

Soap knocks back his drink before asking the bartender for another.

"Week has been shit, but today makes it seem like that was a walk in the park."

Gaz sucks in some air through his teeth before sitting next to him. Soap gets his drink and doesn't waste time downing half of it.

"Slow down! It's not going anywhere."

Soap humorlessly laughs, "Plan on downing as much as I can before I have to go back to the base."

"Shit, what happened?"

"Fucked up on the field. Pissed of Price and Ghost. Especially Ghost. And the good lord and everyone and their mammy knows that Ghost does not let shit go easily."

Gaz winces. He sits there silently and Soap decides to talk. To rant, actually.

"I feel like no matter what I do, if I fuck up or not, Ghost just doesn't care. He pushes me to the side whenever he doesn't have to interact with me, sometimes he doesn't even acknowledge me on the field!"

Gaz has a look on his face that was full of pity. Soap finishes his drink and asks for another.

"God, we were doing so good for a bit. Felt like there might've actually been a connection! Like he was opening up to me! Then in a blink of an eye he's back to acting like- Like-"

Soap groans loudly in frustration before hitting his head on the bar counter. Gaz pats his back, shaking his head.

"I know you like him, but I don't see it going anywhere. He's too hung up on the past to focus on the future."

"Roach died fucking ten years ago!"

Soap winces when he realizes how loud he said that. Gaz glares at the people who stared until they looked away.

"Look, he needs a therapist. That much is certain."

Soap laughs, "Damn straight."

The rest of the night goes by quickly. Soap ended up getting cut off and in his drunken state became royally pissed off. Gaz did his best to herd Soap out of the bar with the help of some buddies but the Scotsman was proving difficult. Right as they got to the door, Soap whipped around and pointed at Gaz.

"I-I'm not going back! I live here now!"

"Johnny-"

"Don't call me that! Don't you dare call me that!"

Gaz stepped back as Soap stepped closer, a fire in his eyes. The bell rings as someone walks in and Soap turns to see Graves. It was surprising to see him considering he almost never went out to drink unless he had something to celebrate. Much like Price.

"Easy, soldier."

Gaz turns to look at the Shadows who had gathered at a couple pushed together tables not long after Soap started to get rowdy. Two of the Shadows pointed at one of them who held up his phone and shrugged. Seems like Soap was at that point where the Shadows thought it was necessary to contact their superior officer. And it did seem necessary.

"How 'bout we go out and get you something to eat, how does that sound?"

Gaz was almost surprised to see Soap visibly calming down in Graves' presence. Graves looks to Gaz and the others and waves them off in a "Everything is under control" manner before turning back to Soap. Soap was swaying in place, and if a strong breeze were to flow by, he might tip over. Over a long silence, Soap nods. Graves wraps a arm around the man's soldiers and leads him out of the bar.

Soap was practically leaning his full weight against Graves as they walked down the street. They went to a Mexican restaurant and Graves got Soap some tacos. They sat at one of the outside tables, Graves figuring the cool night air would help Soap sober up. Though he doubted that he would be sober at any point in the near future.

"How's the tacos?"

"Fucking delicious," said Soap, mouth half full.

Graves takes a tip of his drink as Soap eats. Once he got to his third taco, he spoke.

"Did you drive to town?"

"Walked."

"Ah. Well, I don't see you walking back. How about I give you a lift."

Soap starts to laugh loudly, "I'm not that easy!"

Graves snorts at the combination of Soap's thickened accent and the slur in his voice.

"Not like that, Soap."

"Nuh uh. So is!" Soap leans close like he's trying to tell Graves a secret, "I see how you look at me."

Graves flushes and Soap laughs again. He then winks, "I don't mind. You can look all you want."

Graves shakes his head as Soap finishes his tacos. Graves helps Soap stand who found it hard to get out of the chair, "C'mon, let's get you back to base and in bed."

"Wow! You can't wait, can you?"

Graves seems to ignore him and leads him up the street to where his car is parked.

"Y'know, maybe I will be easy. Just this once."

Graves keeps quiet as he let's Soap ramble. At first it was very, very bad and corny pick up lines. But it turned into Soap just talking about whatever came to mind. The night sky to the cracks in the sidewalk. When they got to Graves' car Soap pointed at Graves, his finger inches from the American's nose.

"You're drunk! I'll drive!"

"Sure, fat chance."

After several minutes of struggling to wrangle Soap, Graves manages to get him in the car, Soap finally gives and sits. As Graves reached over him to buckle him in, Soap gropes his bicep and whistles.

"When we get married, you're carrying me down the aisle."

Graves mutters to himself, "Lord give me strength."

"Think he already did."

The drive to the base seemed impossibly long considering they had to stop several times for Graves to get Soap in the seat after he took his seat belt off. When they finally got to base and were walking in, Soap stopped and grabbed Graves by his shoulders.

"Let's go on a date."

Graves shakes his head, a fond look on his face, "Try asking me that again when you're sober."

Soap stares at Gravea before he twirls in place. After spinning three times and almost falling, he stops and turns to Graves.

"I'm sober now! How about a date?"

"Soap, you're still drunk."

Soap frowns, "Oh..."

Graves laughs and puts a arm on Soap's shoulders, "C'mon, time for bed."

It was safe to say that they did not make it to the barracks with Soap's dignity in tack. Graves felt bad for him as he managed to get to Soap's room finally. He had to take Soap's shoes off and force him to lay down in bed. Soap kept insisting that he wasn't tired, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out. And when he woke with his head pounding and a sense of dread, he knew he acted like an idiot the previous night.

He tried to piece together what all had happened the night before but after his fifth drink everything went black. He remembered Gaz being there so he decided to go talk to him about what happened. It took him a minute to find him considering his phone was dead, but he eventually found him in the gym. Gaz noticed him quickly and walked over to him.

"Hey man, how you feel?"

"Like shit. Listen, I do not remember shit about last night. Do you know if I did anything stupid?"

A Shadow laughs loudly, "Did you do anything stupid?"

Soap turns and Gaz glares, "I got this, Rico. Go mind your own business."

The Shadow holds his hands up and leaves them be while snickering. Soap turns back to Gaz, "What happened?!"

"Well, you had a bit too much and, um, started to get a bit much to handle so, uh, someone called Graves to come get you. That happened after you made several comments about Ghost being um... Actually, I didn't really understand what you were saying."

Soap's eyes widen, "No..."

"Yea..."

"Oh god... What else happened?"

"Don't know. After Graves got you no one knows what happened except when he took you to your room. Farah said you were singing. Quite horribly, might I add."

Soap covers his face, "I was an ass to Graves, I just know it."

"Most likely."

Soap groans. Something tells him his actions from last night were going to bite him in the ass.

[boxofthings]

begging y'all to tag it with "PAST ghostroach" also my boy Roach does not deserve this slander

inspired by this post because I felt it on a visceral level and had to make my own version

[cherie-doll]

Hi! Good Evening/Morning! Can I request cod men x reader who is rich, but didn't keep it as a secret or anything, just didn't mention it ?Reader likes to spoil them without a second thought! Also i describe reader being a calm person!

you can delete this ask if it's a bit too much to do, thank you for your wonderful writing! 😍

First of all, I wanna thank you for being so respectful, literally I have the most respectful and patient people here and I'm so thankful for it <3

ᡴ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men Being Spoiled !!

۶ৎ Price...

he'd appreciate the occasional gift but overtime when you love throwing gifts at him because you seriously can't walk past a shop without seeing something and immediately thinking of him

and you do it so nonchalantly too that he's confused when you've gifted him the 5th most expensive watch he could only ever dream of getting, he's not a huge materialistic guy so before he would only glance at it on display and think it was a nice watch but didn't expect you to gift it to him

he lovingly thanks you and as much as he appreciates you and your gifts you don't have to drain your bank account on him, oh, but then you drop the bomb on him that you're loaded

well, he doesn't make a commotion out of it but he's sitting there thinking, now all the puzzle pieces connect, that's why you're always so decked out when you got out even if it's something simple

۶ৎ Ghost...

loves your quiet acts of love, you gift him little fragments and pieces that remind you of him, which in the end, make him up in some way

he even started getting used to your ways that now he leaves little stuff for you here and there, everyday one of you is uncovering gifts from the other

sometimes you don't even talk as you hand him something you bought for him, he also prefers gifts that have some sort of use to them, there's only so much clothes and accessories he stuffs in his drawers not really knowing what to do with them

but get him something he'll need and he's over the moon for the whole week, you can tell because at night he's been hugging you extra tightly that the next morning you wake up with him tangled up with you

۶ৎ Soap...

he's always wanted to do his best to charm you when you first started your relationship, but man was he taken aback and slightly humbled the moment he started paying attention to your things

he was the most oblivious to it despite the obvious signs, and it's not like he's dirt poor, then why can't he help but feel slightly intimidated by you like when you first met

would literally aim to spoil you so much more, with loving acts and gifts you cherish, you prefer simpler things, you couldn't have found someone better to date

he knows his way to romance you and it's worked every time since you met him, secretly you might be a little shy, so his bold acts definitely make your heart stumble

۶ৎ Gaz...

he knows that as soon as you approach with that mischievous smile like you did something and hiding something behind his back, he better sit down because you probably just bought him whatever was last in his wishlist

he thinks you ought to use some of that for yourself, really he thinks you should buy yourself a little something, but giving makes you feel so good

unknowingly to you, he somehow always manages to do something or get something that makes you forget you could buy it yourself with the money you've got

he thinks he could go on forever living like this, with you being such a calming person he can enjoy his evenings with, it makes him forget everything that you've got and just appreciate and breathe you in

۶ৎ Roach...

poor guy gets at least a little overwhelmed when you gift him something because it's surely something fancy again, it's not that he doesn't like your gifts

he just can't help but feel his heart doing flips and bouncing against the wall of his chest, his thanking you comes out softly from his lips

still he thanks his lucky starts because overtime you've learned about his interests and adjusted your gifts accordingly, now he has a collection of knick-knacks from you that he just loves organizing and admiring

you also fuel his strangle little obsessions that otherwise couldn't have been paid for, he'll also show up with somewhat unusual gifts, but you love your little weirdo :)

۶ৎ Alejandro...

he's got style he knew what you were like, but even then he wouldn't let you pay for anything, not even dinner, no matter how many times you went out

better put that card away, he'll take care of this one.... again

he also loves how confident you are, you never boast about your money, you have your quiet ways of making him feel loved and he can see himself committing to you

and what he loves most about you is that not only do you use your money to live your life how you want but you also help out whoever needs it, he could seriously learn a thing or two from you

you're such a pure soul deep down that wants to show their love in the only form they know how to give

۶ৎ Rudy...

used to shyly take but now he doesn't even feel worthy to reach his hand out until you're practically shoving it into his face, still he can't help but feel at least a little bad for easily accepting your gifts, and so he tries talking to you about that

you really don't have to go out of your way to show your affection for him, still you won't give up

the type you sit you aside that he actually wants to be the one to provide for you and you're like "i'm good tho" and proceed to shock him with what you have

still, you've never felt as loved by anyone else than him, he strives to make you feel the warmest sensations that you're constantly thinking about him, which reminds you to buy more stuff for hum...

۶ৎ Phillip Graves...

he just adores having you dote on him, in any way or form, he didn't even figure how much money you had because he was never big on luxury brands or stuff like that

anything you give to him on the pretext that it will look good on him, he's a sucker for that, feels like you're already married to him when you do stuff like that, and he awaits your gifts eagerly

likes to act all surprised when you do start gifting more often, "that's for me? you really shouldn't have bothered" as he smiles smugly and gives you a kiss on the cheek for it, but he also loves buying you things, you never bring money when you go out

and when he asks where you'd like to live, you say you already have your dream house, he thinks you're bluffing at first until you bring him over

well, you just keep surprising him don't you?

۶ৎ Makarov...

he loves spoiling you but then you also slide your card through at any store without even giving it a second thought, so watching you two exchange gifts is sort of hilarious

he'll gift you a beautiful and expensive jewelry item for your hand or neck and you show up with the latest in men's fashion that you just KNOW will look absolutely dashing on him

for the longest time he felt like it was competitive almost, he genuinely almost got upset because he was frustrated how you seemed to show up with your card everywhere, ready to pay for the extravagant meal when he planned to pay

he loves boasting about how much money he has and shows you off when he showers you in gifts yet here you are able to buy it all yourself and even do the same for him

you end up having to compromise and put your card away for certain things, at least when he's around, because he loves that feeling when you lean on him, depending on him almost completely

۶ৎ Keegan...

he just figured it out right away without you having to tell him, he read the way you carried yourself even though you never bragged about the amount of money you had

you were a hard worker and loved to lavish in your wealth, and you invited him too, but despite how much gifting was your love language he liked showing you a different perspective of things

he might've been the one to teach you to enjoy an evening out without having to spend money just to make things pleasurable

but he also never forgets to show appreciation for a gift you lovingly though of, he's lucky to have you even be interested in him, he'll let you dote on him so long as you let him impress you too

it's only fair of course that he take your breath away with a romantic date that may not be as expensive but the thought and effort is all the same

۶ৎ König...

he can't help but get all flustered when all you've done recently is dote all over him with gifts every time, he would be melting in your hands, head cradled between your thighs as you reach down and pinch his cheeks only to slip a gift in his hand

his eyes would be flickering between the box in his hand and your face, "another one?" he'll ask softly, a little hurt because he thinks you're spending too much on him

but you would have to reassure him with all the dulcet words in the world to convince him that you truly do love him, better that he get used to it because you'll be doing it a lot more often now

"you... you're-" he can't even form a sentence when you finally do take him to your place, "mhm" is all you even say before whisking him off to some other place

۶ৎ Horangi...

he's learned a thing or two from his old, bad habits, so he's surprised to see new packages constantly arriving at your doorstep, and from luxury brands too

you'll sit on the living room floor unboxing everything and you'll randomly extend your hand out, gesturing for him to take it because you saw something you thought he would like and probably didn't even bother to check the price as you added it to your cart

and he'll proudly wear all the stuff you've bought for him, like a pet wearing a collar signifying that they've got an owner who cares for them, he doesn't hold back from boasting to his buddies

"oh, this thing? yeah, my partner bought that for me"

you and him would match the lavish lifestyle very well without a doubt

۶ৎ Nikto...

he would silently accept the first few gifts, not really noticing the signs until suddenly he's "..." and you love teasing him, saying he must be speechless at whatever present you bought him but in reality he's now realizing what type of person he bagged

he loves that you're thriving and aren't completely depending on him, at least financially, with your extravagant tastes you are sure to drain his savings fast, but you never were the type to excessively spend

still, he accepts your presents without a word but the best you could really do for him and at least be soft to him, despite not looking like it, he's the type to like seeing a side you never show to anyone else, maybe be gentler, softer, warmer and more vulnerable

that's something priceless he secretly loves, feeling you mold right into him, feeling like everything's right because his larger frame shields you, making you feel safer than money ever could

[lay-z]

I'm sorry, but this is so self-indulgent, it hurts. I've been thinking about it since it happened...So, here goes nothing. Also, this took a turn while I wrote it, because I have no control over myself and usually change plotlines mid-writing. MINORS, DNI - 18+ only !!! Pairing: f!reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish Warnings/Info: German reader 🇩🇪; trash talk; banter; cussing; Scottish slang (I feel like that should count as a warning...); German language; fuckbuddies to lovers; sexual tension; explicit smut; unprotected sex; some jealousy; dom!Soap; fluff

“Ach, ye gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, lass!" Soap scoffs loudly as soon as he sees you swagger in to the private 141 rec room inside the HQ with a smug smile on your lips and that popular pink football jersey of the German national team adorning your body. 

Soap is wearing his new cobalt blue Scotland jersey himself; fabric straining around his bulging biceps, stretching over his broad chest, and fitting snugly around his narrow waist like a second skin, because he's bought it a size too small on purpose.  

Captain Price and Gaz are both showing off their support and colours by wearing their white England jerseys, naturally, while Ghost doesn't seem to care much because 'our bloody team isn't playing tonight anyways'. Keegan is wearing a vintage looking Portugal jersey, because 'Cristiano is still the fucking goat', and Roach is just happy to be there, really. He's more into American football, but he doesn't dare to speak that thought out loud tonight. 

The atmosphere is light-hearted, riddled with boisterous laughter, crude banter and the smells of Price's cigar smoke, savoury snacks, hefty beer and hard liquor, while the group is gathered around the sofa in front of the large flat TV screen mounted on the wall, either sitting on its plush cushions or on one of the office chairs borrowed from one of the nearby meeting rooms.  

Tensions are high, especially between you and Soap as the group waits for the preliminary reporting and interviews to end and the match to finally begin. 

Germany vs. Scotland, the first opening match for this year's European Football Championship tournament. 

Soap chokes up during Scotland's national anthem, overwhelmed by the sheer pride his fellow countrymen display in the stadium in Munich, while you merely stand with your hand over your heart as the German national anthem is sung next – singing your own national anthem and showing any kind of patriotism for your country, always makes you feel weird somehow; many thanks to inherited generational shame.  

Still, you feel a tiny bit of pride as you witness your own compatriots sing the anthem just as noisily as the Scots. 

"That a rare smile I spy on yer lips, lassie?" Soap teases after the anthems are finished, nudging his elbow against your upper arm while he's holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He loves to tease you with stereotypes that don't even apply to you most times, but he does it, nonetheless.  

"Ye like how yer fellow Krauts have shown some pride in their country, eh?" He snickers, earning a sharp, scolding glare from Captain Price.  

"Careful, MacTavish," the Captain chides from his chair next to the couch, his voice muffled by the cigar he's currently chewing on, while the others chuckle and snort among each other, "Keep the bloody banter above the belt, son."  

However, you simply click your tongue and roll your eyes at him as Soap continues to grin at you. Both of you know that he doesn't mean any menace by it, and you've said way worse stuff to each other in the past anyway – all in the name of good-natured, friendly banter, of course. Besides, you live for the constant banter and bickering between you two. It's pretty much the main foundation of your friendship, and what inevitably lead to your affair.  

"Very proud of my Krauts, yeah," you retort eventually, completely unfazed by the "slur", poking his large biceps with your forefinger harshly as you shoot him a mock glare, "I'll be even prouder when our team has completely annihilated yours, Scotch." 

Soap's chest rumbles with a low grunt at your name calling, and he loves how you defy him easily, as he lets his dark blue eyes roam over your figure appreciatively. He notices how the fabric of your jersey clings to your upper body, accentuating your delicious curves and ample chest, and how the thin collar hugs your pretty neck, making him want to wrap his hand around your throat just like he did last night. 

Gaz chuckles at your comment and even Ghost snorts quietly behind his balaclava, while Soap narrows his eyes at you playfully, now towering as he takes one more step towards you; close enough for you to tilt your head back slightly to keep eye contact with him.  

Gods, you love how tall he is compared to you; how he could easily bend you to his will if he wanted to. 

Soap notices how your pupils dilate as you hold his gaze fiercely and he can already feel his blood heat up in his veins with excitement, rushing south. He clenches his jaw as you bat your eyelashes up at him with that bratty smirk of yours and his fingers tighten around the cold beer bottle in his hand, the other one stuffed into the pocket of his jeans, to keep himself from grabbing and bending you over the couch in front of everyone, including your superiors.  

The tension between you two is becoming more noticeable to everyone present now, all thick and palpable.  

"Is – is that behaviour considered normal for them?" Roach enquires in a hushed whisper as he leans in to speak to the other men, shoving another handful of salted and roasted peanuts into his mouth while his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Soap. He's more interested in whatever is going on between the two Sergeants than the goddamn soccer game on TV. 

Keegan simply nods with an affirming hum as he lifts the rim of his beer bottle to his lips, eyes glued to the TV, while Gaz answers verbally, also not taking his eyes off the screen. 

"Aye," the latter confirms, "Just ignore them, Sanderson. We don't interfere, unless they get physical. Right, Captain?" 

The older male nods firmly in return, his face a mask of seriousness as he watches the kick-off with intrigue, taking a slow sip of his glass of bourbon. 

"And even then, only if it's not sexual." Ghost adds gruffly, though one can practically hear that he's smirking beneath his mask. The Lieutenant has never said it out loud yet, but he is very much aware of the thing that has been going on between his Sergeant's for a while now.  

Soap manages to stay cocky after the first two goals for the German soccer team, despite his teammates and, especially, your teasing. The third one, a penalty goal, makes him break out in a sweat with both anger and devastation, all hope for a win now gone at once.  

The Germans don't stop there, though. 

You're tugging at Soap's arm, his jersey, jumping up and down like some excited bunny, laughing and cheering hysterically after having had a few drinks at this point, celebrating with the rest of the team, while the Scotsman looks on with a sour, stony expression.  

He doesn't even know when everyone else suddenly became a fan of the goddamn Germans, all he knows is that his team is losing, and he's currently outnumbered by impostors. Creepin' Jesus, even Roach is cheering for them! He should've known better than to watch the bloody game with you and the lads. 

"Aw, come on, Soapey!" You coo at him condescendingly, grinning widely as he crosses his arms in front of his chest with a huff, rolling his shoulders coolly as if he's not incredibly vexed, "Are you not enjoying the game, huh?" 

"Ach," he scoffs, shrugging off your hand from his shoulder like a petulant child, "Away an bile yer heid." 

"English, MacTavish!" Ghost scolds from his seat on the couch, having heard the insult despite the noise in the room, and you can see how badly Soap wants to flip the Lieutenant off.  

"Ah, ah, ah, Johnny," you butt in a with a smug tone to your voice, "Be nice now. Your boys can still win thi–" 

Your voice is cut off by loud cheering as Germany scores their fourth goal. 

"Fuckin' sore winner, hen," Soap grunts as he bullies his cock deeper into your quivering cunt; right up to the hilt, stretching your velvety walls and hitting your g-spot repeatedly while you're burying your face into the soft pillows on the mattress beneath you, muffling your desperate noises as you take his fat cock like the good little bonnie you usually are behind closed doors. 

In this position, he has the best view on your delicious curves and soft skin, now adorned with his deep blue Scotland jersey after he’d swiftly pulled the German one off you once you were in your bedroom; the fabric now rucked up to your shoulder blades, one hand of his fisting the stretchy fabric tightly to keep you exposed. 

"Teasin' me all fuckin’ night," he huffs through gritted teeth as his blunt nails dig into your skin, tightening his grip around the fat on your hips with his other hand, so you can't escape him, "Over some fuckin' football game." 

While Soap rolls and thrusts his hips in a steady, brutal rhythm, positioned between his spread knees behind you, you're grabbing fistfuls of your blanket as you moan and whimper helplessly, dampening the white sheets with your drool, taking everything he's giving you in retaliation to your bratty behaviour back at the rec room. 

Soap had immediately grabbed a tight hold of your wrist and pulled you out of the room, towards the 141 quarters, as soon as the final whistle had rung out, ending the match with a terrible loss for Scotland. He didn’t bear to stand a minute longer to listen to his and your teammates mockery, and he didn’t care about the confused looks everyone, except Ghost, were shooting you and him as you’d left together. 

He doesn’t care much anymore that Scotland lost to Germany – 5:1; it just so happens to be the perfect excuse to completely wreck you tonight, and Soap keeps telling himself that it’s not at all because he’s witnessed Keegan getting friendly with you over the past few times the team went out to the pub on base. You two might not be official, but you’re still his – and his only.

His friend, his fuckbuddy, his lover.

"You're jus'.... mad they– a-ah~" You slur, but your words are cut off by another pathetic moan that is ripped from your throat when Soap grabs you by the nape of your neck suddenly, like a dog would grab her puppies, squeezing your flesh and muscle with his calloused hand to keep you in place, then pulls his thick cock out up to its angry-red tip only to pound back into you with determined fervour to finally shut you up for good. 

No, Soap is not mad about the bloody game – he’s mad that you’d spent halftime sitting on Keegan’s lap like an obedient puppy when the latter had asked you to take a seat, because the chairs were taken and Ghost took up most space on the sofa – and Soap was too proud to tell you to sit on his lap instead.

The bed rocks and creaks under your combined weight, hitting the wall repeatedly with a very telling “thudthudthudthud–” for your surrounding neighbours, your teammates, while the warm glow of your bedside lamp casts a lewd shadow of your current activity on the white walls of your bedroom. Fuck, Soap hopes Keegan can hear you two going at it in his apartment.

“What was that, bonnie? Ye said sum’?” the Scotsman grits out mockingly, biting his lower lip, nostrils flaring with exerted breaths as he squeezes your neck tighter, forcing you to arch your back and your pretty ass up into him as he pounds into you; skin slapping skin as his balls tap against your clit with each deep and rapid thrust. 

Meanwhile, you don’t even register his teasing words anymore as you’re fully focused on the mind-blowing pleasure Soap is giving you; hard and dominating and the opposite of how the usually treats you during sex.  

Your eyes roll back, toes curling as the tension of your impending climax begins to build up, up, up then; heat blossoming in your lower abdomen as he keeps pushing you towards the edge with each delightful rock of his powerful hips and his girthy cock ramming into your sweet spot.  

However, Soap knows those sounds you’re making all too well already; the way you’re breathing pattern changes, the higher pitch of your wanton moans and sweet cries of pleasure, the way your walls begin to clench harder around his thick length, practically sucking him in deeper into your silky heat – he can read all the signs like the bloody morning paper, knows you’re about to cum on his dick... 

And despite his own pleasure licking and tingling at his lower spine, making his burly muscles tense and twitch and his balls tighten with the inevitable – he stops his movements at once, ruins both your orgasms, and pulls his throbbing cock from your soppy, warm cunt. Glancing down briefly, Soap sees his bare cock glistening with your slick, creamy arousal and his pearly pre-cum gathering at the base of his cock, and the sight makes him shudder and groan with excitement. 

He can’t have you cum like this tonight, though, fucking you doggy – Gods, no. Soap needs to watch you fall apart on his cock, needs to see your gorgeous features contort in pleasure and your reaction when he spills his thick load into you for the very first time without anything holding him back and separating him from you – knowing he’s the only one able to have you like this.

“Up,” he grunts out next, simultaneously pulling you upwards by your neck while he feels your rapidly fluttering pulse under his fingertips, until your back is flush with his sweat-slicked and bare, heaving chest while his rock hard cock rubs and pokes along your ass cheeks, “Gimme yer mouth.”  

Cranking your neck towards him obediently, Soap reaches out and cups the side of your jawline to angle your face to his liking, capturing your mouth in a sloppy kiss and swiftly plunging his hot tongue past your lips. Your eyes flutter shut as you moan into his mouth while his other large hand snakes around your body, slipping beneath his jersey you’re wearing, cupping and groping your plump tits greedily, pinching your stiff nipples with the rough pads of his thumb and forefinger.

Soap goes on to shift and manhandle you into a different position and you gladly let him. 

He pushes you down onto your back, smirking to himself when you spread your legs for him all too eagerly, making grabby hands with a frustrated pout to have him on top of you again – it’s adorable, really, and he appreciates the view of your pussy, all puffy and wet for him, before he nestles himself between your thighs – the place that has easily become his favourite over the past few months.

 “Yer such a brat,” Soap chuckles darkly as he grabs one of your legs by your calf to hike it up over his broad shoulder, then the other, before he spits into his palm and gives his cock a few good pumps with his fist, tapping and rubbing the swollen tip on your sensitive clit teasingly until you let out a needy whine, one hand of yours reaching up to hold on to the back of his neck, tugging at his short Mohawk.

You’re his brat, though. Emphasis on his.

“And you’re such an ass tonight, Johnny,” you mewl in return and suck in a breath when Soap aligns his thick tip with your slick hole, pushing in halfway with one languid thrust and leaving you both breathless again. 

“’m not an arse,” he objects with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he watches you bite your lower lip raw to keep your lewd noises at bay, “Ye just have a way of drivin’ me doolally, hen.” He counters, and then leans in to crash your lips together once more, folding your legs up even further while his cock sinks into your cunt fully, followed by a guttural moan of his when he feels your walls clench and tighten around him, squeezing him until his muscles tremble with restraint.

He groans against your lips; the feeling of your throbbing heat and the taste of your soft tongue flicking and lapping against his is nearly enough to make him cum on the spot. It’s almost like he can feel your heartbeat through your snug, perfect pussy, and it nearly drives him to the brink of madness each time you let him fuck you.

“You can’t say shit like doolally and not expect me to laugh,” you snicker softly, nipping at his lower lip as you lock eyes with him, batting your eyelashes, “Sounds fucking ridiculous.” 

Soap grins in return and continues his deep, deliberate thrusts into your delicious cunt. His heart always flutters giddily whenever you gaze into his eyes with that cheeky look of yours, especially when his cock is buried to the hilt inside you, stretching you out with every inch he has to offer.

“Say some in German then,” he croons lowly, nudging his nose below your chin to make you tilt your head up to give him better access to your neck before he begins peppering wet, hot kisses along your pulse point, sucking a purple love bite into your creamy skin to mark you up. “I wanna laugh, too,” he grumbles between nips and pecks. 

You click your tongue in mock annoyance, enjoying his ministrations and the way his beard tickles your skin too much to be mad at his teasing, and you tug on his short hair a little harder before raking your nails over his scalp until he purrs against your skin in pure bliss. Soap can feel how you swallow hard as he licks a long stripe from your collarbone up your throat, then your walls clench tightly around his cock and he grits his teeth as another pleasant shudder runs down his spine.  

“Say. Sum’. To. Me. Lass.” He demands, this time punctuating each word with a sudden deep and sharp rock of his hips that makes the bed’s headboard hit the wall again. 

Your eyes flutter shut with a breathy moan and your brain short-circuits while each of his thrusts makes a jolt of hot searing pleasure shoot right into your core, making your spine tingle and your body tense with bliss. 

“Ich liebe dich,” you blurt out unintentionally instead of an insult, your speech slurred and unintelligible as he presses his weight further into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs in this position. Your eyes widen as soon as you realize what you’ve just confessed and you pray he didn’t understand that. 

Soap doesn’t speak German, but those words do sound familiar. 

His stomach tightens, his heart skips a heavy beat while his mind begins to race, and his rhythm falters momentarily before he picks up his pace again, fucking into you fast, deep and thoroughly to drown out the sudden wave of foreign emotions on the brink of overwhelming him. 

“Again,” he demands against your ear, gripping your body tightly and keeping you in place on the mattress as he ruts into your cunt with newfound vigor and goad, his pelvis stimulating your clit with each sharp snap of his hips.

“Say –“ He gets a hold of your jaw, curling his large hand around it to make you look at him while he grits his teeth, huffing like some feral bull. “– that again.”

Reaching one hand out behind you, you brace your flat palm against the headboard while your other hand keeps holding on to the back of his neck, fingernails digging into thick muscle and skin as you cling onto him desperately.

“F-fuck, Johnny!” You cry out. “Ich liebe dich, du Vollidiot!” you repeat in between breathy, high-pitched moans, though more confident this time, before your eyes roll back in pleasure with another loud moan of his given name.

Soap can barely keep it together then. His heart nearly bursts out of his chest and his jaw clenches so hard, the veins in his neck start protruding and fluttering with his rapid pulse as he feels you come apart around his cock; your tight, soppy walls convulsing and clenching, pushing and coaxing him to his own sudden release.

And he lets go of your jaw, clutches the pillow next to your head tightly as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, groaning and moaning shamelessly as his body seizes up, balls tightening almost painfully before he spends his thick cum into your perfect cunt.

You wince and exhale a hiss when Soap leans back to look at you and lowers your legs at last, letting you stretch out your sore muscles while he stays buried inside you, moving his hips almost lazily and caressing your burning leg muscles soothingly while both your bodies keep twitching and shaking with small aftershocks. You can feel his warm cum and your own wetness leaking and dripping down your ass crack, ruining your bed sheets below – and you remember that you did actually let him fuck you raw this time in a fit of frivolity.

Your blurry vision becomes clear again once you blink away the haziness and then you already feel Soap’s calloused fingers tracing your jawline, his deep blue eyes drinking in your gorgeous, flushed features almost reverently.

“What?” You ask defensively, looking up at his ruggedly handsome face, now squirming under his uncharacteristically tender gaze and the feeling of his softening cock still resting all snug inside your cunt, acting as if you haven’t just professed your love to him, after weeks of dancing around the topic.

“Well,” he begins, clearing his throat after another beat of awkward silence as he can feel his cheeks begin to heat up with a burning blush,

“Ye cannae finally confess ye love me an’ not expect me ta combust, luv.”

[omegapropaganda]

🔥🍯🔥

Burnt Honey ch. 9

poly141 x M!Omega!Reader

omegaverse

"You have been a member of Shadow Company and Phillip Graves' omega for years suffering at his hand until you meet the members of Task Force 141. They help you learn to love again while you help them destroy Shadow Company from the bottom up."

John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader, John Price (Call of Duty)/Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson (past), Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader (toxic), Rodolfo Parra/Alejandro Vargas

be very aware of the tags and read them thoroughly. Major trigger warnings for graphic descriptions of male on male non-con/rape, manipulation, degradation (not the fun kind), and general abusive toxic sexual relations. These are not romanticized and very much harm Reader.

please take care of yourself if you are sensitive to these issues and still decide to proceed with reading this fic. I will not be held responsible for your actions after you read these warnings, okay?

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hi! may I request something? the residential masked fellas (Ghost, Konig, Keegan, & Roach), x therapist!reader, who's a billionaire? (shocking part, the billionaire part was not mentioned by our reader) I imagine reader spoiling their s/o with gifts & affectionate stuff they deserve, while helping them get a sense of theirselves or something like that 😭 (most of the cod characters need therapy, to be honest) BUT- they start to suspect how on earth did reader get all of the stuff? cause i'm sure reader gifted them the expensive kind- but anyways, reader just casually just says their a billionaire, like it's normal- how would they react to this?

Please take care of yourself & stay safe !! 💖

a/n: you take care too!!! Sorry to all my followers for not posting in forever 😔 I had family stuff going on, and I’m a bit burnt out so I couldn’t come up with story plots for some of the characters

konig:

-konig is a well off man to begin with, but doesn’t use much of the money he earns with his impressive title as he has little idea what to actually buy when it comes to things being worthwhile, and hence since you give him so many gifts, his house is mostly filled with gifts then actual things he bought

-always took the gifts at face value and adored the thought put into them and never really thought to think of how much money you must spend

-eventually though, one of his few off duty friends asked why he had such high class things in his house as they pointed out gifts you had simply given him and he started to get quite curious himself

-called you up one night to ask, waking you up as he asked a simple “uh- maus? You know the mixer you got me last week when I said I wanted to make cookies is 800 dollars, why??”

-you had to stop laughing out loud from his confusion since you thought you had been open with it due to the amount of things you simply gave him

Roach:

-stayed in his cramped barracks a lot of the time and very rarely replaced any of his tearing gear because he was too tired to do so, he just generally didn’t care how the public saw him and had little care on himself

-of course that changed when you practically threw him new clothes, new gear, new facial care for his tiny apartment he used when off duty. He started to actually enjoy getting to indulge in a massage or a face mask while he simply felt all clean

-of course, he thought it was all temporary, that you were just spending a particular amount on a well paying month, but as it went on and on continued, he started to get more and more confused

-one day when you took him on a shopping trip, he saw you check your checking account and THATS when he realized that you planned to pay for his every whim personally and could without damage… a very flustering experience

Ghost:

-never truly is off guard even when off duty or around people, it’s built into him from trauma and past and his job doesn’t help to much with that

-however, he does have a particularly interesting hobby that calms him down more then most things can, even you (although he adores you with all his heart). And that hobbies is photography. Of things he enjoys, that is. He never put money into a very good camera, never seeing the need in doing so until you bought him one…

-he cherishes that camera more then he cherishes his mask, which is saying quite a bit. He didn’t know how much he actually needed the upgrade till he saw the difference in his photos

-he of course, shows it off to his team. And soap points out exactly how pricey it must be for a lil old therapist to buy. he starts to get worried, did you spend money you didn’t have on him? Did he take away from your own funds? Did he just take it and not think about the damage you might have created yourself without even thinking twice???

-calls you on his burner phone in a tiny bit of a panic, but it doesn’t show too much under his gruff tone. He lets out a sigh he didn’t notice he was holding in once you told him that you in fact had the money to buy that camera 100 times over

[kagakuoniryu]

Part 2 of the alastor x reader I written when I wasn't feeling well at all

Summary : a new guest you knew from your past life arrive at the hotel, she was that one person who bullied you throigh high school, but she mooks too angelic to be guilty

Code : E/n (ennemy/name)

Tags : fem reader, etablished relationship, angst for the most part, there will maybe be a part 2, mentions of bullying, reader is TRAUMATIZED, english is not my first language, may have some inaccuracy about the show since I'm just projecting, and of course probably ooc characters

After that talk in alastor's room, you hardly left yours limiting contact with everyone...

Well, mostly everyone, nifty still passed by everyday to clean up a bit and chase the boug, you were thankful for it, she didn't treated you differently, she was the same sadistic, boys driven, bug hater lady you met, and you could talk her ears off

"Niff ? What do you think about E/n ?" You started warily, you never openly talked to her about it surprisinly until now

"Oh I hate her !"

Shocked you asked her to go on ; E/n, hated ? The E/n you knew...Well...she presented to others ?!

"Why is that ? Did something went wrong ? Did she hurt you ?!"

"She always interrupt my dead roack show ! She says it's weird and disgusting ! She even killed a roach before I could and that is an heinous crime"

You gulped, noting mentally that to stay in nifty's good side, you better let her kill the roaches herself

"But...isn't it weird how everyone like her ? And how they think she's genuinely nice ? Even alastor likes her !"

"And everyone likes alastor until they he shows his nature !" With that nifty finally stabbed that roach she was after

"You...have a good point...she's showing them what they want to gain what she wants...but...what does she wants...?"

"I don't know ! I have a lot of cleaning to do ! Goodbye !"

"Wait nifty !"

And the door was closed, you sighed, well...it was good for as long as it lasted you guessed...you needed a plan, but you couldn't think clearly in this hotel...you couldn't go to Rosie too...she ADORED E/n and they had their regular tea party...crashing to your friends place weren't use at all, one they adored her, two, it was still the hotel and three, since your words with angel you kinda ghosted them all, thinking they couldn't hurt yiu if you ghosted them before that ; your fiancee radio station maybe ? No, too obvious, and he spend all his goddamn time up there...and he isn't the exact definition of "privacy"...you thought for a second about mimzy, but that girl hated your guts for no reason...or well...maybe because alastor humiliated her last time...

Finally, a bell rang in your head ; alastor ! That's your solution ! He gave you a spare key of his actual house outside of the hotel, and he barely goes there since he is in his tower during the day and at the hotel at night !

Picking minimal stuff, just a few clothes, a notepad and a pencil, even leaving your proposal ring behind, not wznting to be distracted by alastor himself you rushed outside, surprising everyone in the lobby until you came crashing down into alastor

"My, my, my dear, someone here is in a rush"

"Uh yeah...I needed fresh air, you know, the old stuff, figured I could go camping ?"

Alastor's gaze darkened as he looked at your ring finger, well, lack of ring on your ring finger

"And does camping prevent you from wearing you ring ? Or perhaps you youngster has a different definitiln of camping that back in my day, because decades ago, men could hunt even with they wedding ring, and yet you can't sleep with it on ?"

"I just wanted some alone time, calm down al' if anything, send a shadow my way kf you don't trust me, I know you don't anyway for a few weeks now"

Without letting him finish you left the hotel, you almost feel pity to charlie, she'll have a very pissy alastor in her hands until you come back

Arriving at alastor's home you let yourself in, now you needed to brainstorm !

One hour...

Two hours...

Three hours...

Three hours and about 3 cups of tea in...you have little next to nothing for an idea...how the hell are you gonna show this pest real face ?! You needed a real confrontation with her, but she'll never gave it to you, and if she did, she would have a backup plan, just like when you were alive...alive...

That's it !

One of your imps friend that owe you one could go to the living world ! He could retrieve your phone and you could prove your point !

Getting everything ready, and after many days, the phone in your hands, you plugged it in for it to charge and once at 100 % your rushed to the hotel

"Guys ! I got my phone back I-"

Entering the hotel, they were all playing a board game together, not caring about where you went...but you've been gone for at least a good week or two now...did you mattered so little ?

"O-oh...Y/n...you're here ! We...uh...were playing monopoly ! You...wanna join us ?"

Charlie tried akwardly, chukling nervously at your empty expression

"No, I was happy to prove my point, but I guess it's no use, she is better than me anyway, charlie, I guess you can take an other sinner in...I quit the hotel..."

You missed the way her eyes showed her heartbreak at this sight of you, giving up, she really failed you this time ; as you went upstair to make your bags, the boarding game night was ruined, and alastor teleported right into your room

"Hello ma chère (my dear), may I know where you're planning on going ?"

"I don't know al, far ? You all won it, always pushing me to the side, y'all fucking won it"

"I believe such swearing isn't proper in a ladie's mout-"

"Well for once I'll fucking swear if I'll fucking please al ! Because none of you wwants to believes in me ! You knew me long her and you choose her ! Just...go and date her ! It's her speciality to just date whoever has been with me before anyway..."

"What do you mean...? Y/n...?"

No terms of endearment there, that was rare for alastor, even before you both started dating he was affectionnate and using pet names, he always does with women, just a way to make them feel appreciated

"What do you mean 'what do I mean' you didn't knew how my ex boyfriend cheated on me with her and that's why we stopped being friends ?!"

"No, actually...she told us the other way around, that she found her perfect someone...and that you tried to seduce him and flirt with him and when he exposed you you bullied her"

"Bullied her ?! She made my life hell before getting down here ! After I blocked her everywhere she used our common friend she turned against me or even her sister's social media to stalk me down !"

"Well, my dear, I do want to believes you, you know I love you, but I can't without proper proof"

Taking your phone's out of your pocket, and guiding alastor because of his obvious lack of modern technology skills, you showed him your call journal from that time, the recording, the screenshots, everything that proved you were in your right mind

"Well...my beloved, it seems I owe you an apology, with her honey words it seems I lowered my guard and lacked dicernment, could you forgive me ?"

Alastor put in hand gently on your cheek, lifting your face, you nuzzled against his hand before hugging him tight

"Apology accepted...and thank you...thank you so much for listening, even if it costed you to use modern technology"

"As long as you delete that picture I took by accident"

"I'll make it my wallpaper~"

"I'll rip this thing piece by piece"

Going downstairs with alastor was a relief, like a gentleman he offered his arms for you to hold onto as charlie jumped on you

"I'm SOOOO sorry to have neglected your feeling Y/n please !! I didn't mean to ! You were a good friend of all of us and would all feel awful if you were to really leave !!" She started, before being interrupted by alastor

"Well, my dear charlie, it seems someone is still leaving, but not our dear Y/n, someone who's suprisingly not that keen on getting redeemed it seems"

You saw E/n visibly tense as alastor grabs her rather forcefully

"Could you PLEASE tell all the others persons present here what happened between you and my lovely Y/n over here back when you were alive"

"I...I already told you didn't I...? She bullied me ! Y/n is just a mean bully and I always felt uneasy around her" E/n tried to defend herself, nervously sweating

"Really, care to explain this ? My dear best friend" you showed one of the most incriminating piece you had on your phone to the others, making their eyes go wide, and all fell into pieces, E/n wasn't trying to redeem, she was trying to ruin your life, all over again

She felt that for some reasons, many years ago, you were better than her, and that she needed what you had, by any mean and any ways, instead of finding her own hapiness she wanted to steal yours

Vaggie and alastor both kicked her out, charlie tried to say maybe she could be redeemed, but when alastor said that if he saw that girl put a foot near the hotel again he would turn her into jambalaya for everyone to eat...she was feeling rather discouraged

But that was okay, one bad sinners couldn't stray her from her dream ! Everyone in the hotel also apologized in their own way for not believing you and putting back through all your traumas all over again, and of course you forgave them

Alastor also made you a special contract this night, you could pet his ears, all night long, if the next day you didn't told the others about it

And of course you took the deal

~THE END~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I don't know if this one was longer or shorter than the previous part, I went along with the random imp going back on earth as an easter egg of helluva boss and also because I was stuck in my story !

It's nice to have a catharsis like this to be honest, I don't know if I'll write request or just silly story in one or multiple parts for hazbin hotel you can still send some in if yoj feel like it, just know that I'd be delighted to write for alastor again, he's my all time fav of the show

I hope you enjoyed it !!!

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

“Mornin’ Gary…” the body that was previously hugging him leaves suddenly, the bed shifting as the body sits up and turns.

Ghost only has a moment to wonder where Roach is going before it clicks in his brain, causing him to bolt upright and turn toward the other. Soap looks back at him, teary eyes and small, heartbroken smile on his face as he whispers, “Hey Ghost.”

And something in the way he says it and the way he looks at him let’s him know that he’s gone too far. Mistaken the man for someone long dead one too many times for it to be forgiven this time.

“Johnny…” Said lieutenant shakes his head, wiping at his eyes uselessly as a sob works its way out of his mouth.

“It’s… fine. I get it, don’t worry about it.” But its not fine. Cause it’s been years of Simon and Johnny and even longer since Gary, so he shouldn’t be holding on so much still.

Ghost reaches out, tries to pull the other man in and apologise like every other time this has happened. But instead of crumbling in and accepting it Soap flinches away from him, moves off the bed and away from Simon, refusing to look at him as he continues to try and rid himself of tears.

“I- I love you. So much Simon… But I don’t know if you even see me anymore.” It’s unfair of him to do it but it’s also unfair of Ghost to expect him to forgive and forget every single time.

He’s been hoping, every single day, for five years that maybe Ghost won’t mistake him that morning. Maybe he’ll say that he loves him. Maybe, in his half aware states it’ll be Johnny’s name that escapes his lips and not Roach’s.

But maybe he’s a fool for ever having thought it a possibility, “I will wait forever for you Simon. You know I will, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m so sorry.”

Ghost feels like the worst human to ever exist. To have Johnny apologise to him for something that was never his fault rips Ghost up inside and makes him wish that the Scot had never met him. Cause then maybe he could’ve been saved from this pain.

<><><><><>

“Gaz? Where’s Price I need to speak to him.”

Said man shot him a confused look, head tilted as he gestured vaguely, “They didn’t tell you? Him and Soap left on a mission a month ago.”

Ghost frowned, crossing his arms as he spoke, “Well when will they be back?”

Gaz looked to the ceiling for a moment, probably thinking his answer over, “Tomorrow? They haven’t gotten back to us in a while.”

Ghost nodded, deciding he’d just have to wait till then before he could do what he wanted. He knew his captain was pissed at him for what he’d done to Soap - who was like a son to the man - so he was hoping that with this he could make it up to both of them.

He had worked through his issues, gone to see people and learnt to let go of Roach because it was long past due. He was desperate to prove to Johnny that he could make them work, be what the man needed now.

When the next day comes there’s something heavy sitting in his gut. Some sort of unexplainable feeling that was trying to warn him of something. It’s not until the heli lands that he finally realised why he’s feeling it.

It’s just Ghost and Gaz waiting on the tarmac, watching the heli descend and land. Price comes stumbling out, the man looking beaten and bloody with blood and dirt still fresh on his person.

His eyes look around wildly for a minute before they’re settling on Ghost, then the gaze turns steely and sorrow filled all at once. Price marches toward him before slamming something into his chest, words coming out ragged and angry.

“Even in his last moments he was still apologising to you” Price turns back to the heli, walking away without another word.

Ghost is confused for a moment before he’s looking down at what the captain left with him. It’s Johnny’s journal and dog tags, both of which have blood dried on them.

Ghost can feel his knees give out, the pain ricocheting up his legs as he hits the floor nothing compared to the pain now ravaging his heart.

[expominds]

simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

mdni 18+!, cw: angst, a hair mention of ptsd, simon’s trauma. hurt but comfort

<3 please like and reblog and as always, enjoy 💕

i think… the song ‘patience’ by take that suits simon almost to a t.

he’s gone through so much in his life, from losing his family, roach, to the months of his torturing. he has so much pain and suffering and turmoil going on inside of his mind. his body is scarred, his mind is destroyed.

‘i’m feeling your frustration.’

you are frustrated with him. months spent trying to break his shell, to get him to open up to you and not much has changed. but he senses this. your pain, your frustration, your discouragement. it’s not easy for a man who’s been through so much to open up so easily, but he’s trying, you’ve just got to believe him. to have patience.

working simon open is like working a coconut open. peeling the husk on a coconut closely resembles that of you peeling the painful memories away from him, one by one. that thick, hard outer layer that takes forever to crack, to even get a glimpse of what is going on inside that head of his. it’s almost like you can see it, what he’s been through. the ptsd, the navel-gazing constantly going on. but once you crack it, you’re in.

the memories come spilling out of his mouth like a symphony, allowing himself to yield to finally being able to come to terms with all that he had been through. i mean sure, he had trauma dumped in the past, but nothing to the extent of what was spewing out of his mouth like it was right now. a dam had broken, a glacier had cracked, you sat there for hours comforting him while he cried, punched, angered, and cried some more. you took it because this is what you had been working for.

all simon needed was patience and good god did it feel freeing to let you hold him, your body entangled in his as you lie there in the aftershocks of the commotion. he had found his salvation, and for that he was forever grateful. his scars ran so deep that it would be forever emblazoned on his soul, a reminder of what and who he once was, but wasn’t anymore. his once numb, cold heart, still numb, but not quite as much as before. slowly defrosting and warming up again, your souls intertwining forever.

[thelaisydazy]

Band!141 x Reader - Roach

“Thank you, we’ll call in a few days..”

Your stomach churned. Were they really going to call you? Or, was that just what they told the dancers they weren’t satisfied with? 

Your feet carried you down the street, pushing past the crowds of people that flood into the city every day. Your stomach growls. In your rush to get to the audition, you hadn’t eaten breakfast today and you were starving. You take out your phone to check what’s around.There was a little diner open nearby, it wasn’t exactly the fanciest place, but it was cheap enough for your budget. You turn to head towards the diner only to walk directly into someone, your phone clattering to the sidewalk. 

You stumble back to see a young man, perhaps only a few years older than yourself. He’s tall, though certainly not the tallest you’d seen today. He’s got spiky brown hair, which you imagine might be soft and fluffy without all the gel in it, and soft brown eyes. He’s wearing a tight fitting black muscle-tee that cut just slightly too short, showing off his midriff and a pair of fitted black ripped jeans. Just how many punks were you going to run into today?

“Woah, hey sorry,” he said, bending over to pick up your phone and offer it back to you. You quickly take it, frowning as you see the screen is cracked now. “Oh damn it, sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s… it’s fine,” you say dejectedly. It’s not, but it’s not his fault you walked right into him and dropped your phone. 

“Hey, I’m going to meet some friends for lunch,” he says. “Why don’t you come along? My treat, I feel bad about your phone.”

You look him over cautiously. “I don’t even know your name,” you say. 

“My friends call me Roach,” he says with a grin. “But you can call me Gary if you’d rather.” 

“It’s nice to meet you Gary,” you say, giving him your name as well. “Roach is a funny nickname.”

“Yeah, my mates and I used to mess around with fireworks,” Gary explains. “Couple times I didn’t get away fast enough, somehow I didn’t get hurt though. My mates said I was like a roach, just surviving anything.” He chuckles at the memory. “How about that lunch then?”

You think for a moment. Is it really safe to go with a perfect stranger? The band you met on the subway jumps into your mind. They’d been nice enough to stop the train for you and offer you a seat in the full car, perhaps Gary was just as nice.

“Sure, why not?” you say. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Gary grins at you and you can’t help but smile back. There’s just something friendly about him, you just hope his friends are as nice.

---

“Roach! You made it!” A familiar voice calling from a booth at the back of the bar shouts out. You turn to see the same group of men you’d met just earlier that day. It’s Kyle that spots you first out of them, that amazing smile crossing his face. “I see you met our new friend.”

You and Gary walk over and you take a seat near the middle of the table, between Kyle and Gary. You look at the latter. “You know, when you said you were meeting friends, I should have guessed this is who you meant,” you say with a giggle. Looking around the table, Johnny and Ghost were sitting at the far end from you, Ghost having just pulled his mask back up to cover his face when he saw you walk over. John was sitting on the other side of Kyle from you, he drank from his beer and smiled at you.

“How’d you get on at your audition, love?” John asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Did’ya get in?”

“Oh uh.. They said I should hear back in a couple days,” you say, fidgeting with your napkin. You still weren’t so sure the instructors had actually meant it though. 

“I see..” John said thoughtfully. 

“Bonnie thing lek ye?” Johnny chimed in from his seat next to Ghost. “They wis probably speechless or summat.” Ghost nudged him in the ribs with a sharp look.

“Audition?” Gary asked, looking at you. “Whatcha tryin’ out for?”

Before you could answer, Kyle wrapped his arm over your shoulder, though he kept his grip light enough that you could slip away if you wanted to. “Ballet, that fancy place,” he said. “Gonna be a real principal dancer one day.”

Your face feels hot at his confidence. “Oh well… I don’t know about all that,” you say nervously. “I mean.. I’d just be happy in the corps de ballet really.” You’re not really certain you’ve got what it takes for a lead role anyway. “How did that recording go anyway?” you ask, trying to change the subject. 

“Fine, if Soap would focus,” John rumbles, shooting the younger man a look. 

“Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny exclaims looking a bit flustered himself. “Aye wis jus’ think’n alood.”

“An’ not staying on beat,” Kyle teased back.

“Oh I’m sorry..” you say, feeling bad for asking now. 

“Dinna fash, leannan,” Johnny laughs. He starts to stand up. “Am gett’n ‘nother round.” He returns a few moments later and slides a bubbly red drink in front of you with one of those little paper umbrellas in it. 

“What is it?” you ask. Johnny only grins and shrugs at you. Despite your better judgment you take a sip, surprised not to taste any alcohol in the cherry flavored drink at all. “Is this a Shirley Temple?” Your surprised reaction makes the table laugh. 

“They’re not a kid Johnny,” Kyle laughs. He looks at you. “Lemme know if you want a real drink.” All you can do is nod quietly in response as you sip your Shirley Temple.

[credince--writes]

I'm thinking about the Better Off Dead series right now- and the first sexual encounter of Roach & Getter.

(Poly!Soap x Ghost x Roach x Reader)

Smut Below The Cut

Sorry I wrote this on my phone. Brainworms.

This is one of those 'man I have this idea but I don't want to write the oodles of plot that would lead up to the scenario

You're pawing at eachother, anger meeting in a clash of tongue and teeth that reminds you of home.

Stumbling back, back back and into Gary's room not thinking much of it

The pounding in your ears and the sounds of rustling clothes tunnel visions in on pulling Gary's shirt off and over his head- tossing it forgotten to the side

It's a bitter ritual of begging for forgiveness- his hard body going soft and placid beneath your fingertips as you push him back- direct his body as you see fit. Pushing down- the sudden loss of contact of skin only because his feet caught on a pair of boots tucked neatly at the end of the bed.

Back colliding down onto the soft surface below- a soft gasp leaving Gary's lips before you climb on top.

Your hands, you would always recall in these moments- are so much smaller than his. But yet wrapping your fingers around his wrist he allows you to pin his arms over his head.

He knows the second he breaks the illusion of power you're gone.

You're so, so angry.

The glob of spit left your mouth without even thinking. One hand leaving his wrists to breach your thumb against Gary's lips, press down against his tongue and hold his mouth- hot and wet open.

There's no words. Nothing is spoken but the glazed, hazy look in his eyes tells you enough that all the anger, red faced bile sinks its claws into your throat- clawing up and up until-

"You fucking whore-" you grit out, ignoring the hot feeling on your cheeks, the breathy way your condescending words leave your lips.

He just groans, rolling his hips up against your own.

Yanking down his trousers and briefs, roughly taking his cock in hand and giving him a singular dry tug down the length.

He bucks up, finally- noise- retribution leaving his lips as a groan leaks out into the air. A thick, choking smog.

It's not loving.

There is no care in the actions tugging your own bottoms off before fulling seating down on his cock.

You see the strain of his biceps as he holds himself back.

Back when he was a good boy- he'd be able to wrap his hands around your soft middle. Lifting you up and down on his cock when your eyes went cross.

Pawing at your tits, pulling you close to suck on them.

No, this wasn't the past.

You want to be mean.

Hateful.

You want to hurt like you've hurt.

You played with your clit when you ride him, ignoring the desperate, airy huffs of air leaving his lips.

Your orgasm hits, much to your dismay.

You hand leaves his wrists, but he dares not to move them from over his head.

Both hands planted on his chest, fingers digging into the collarbones beneath the flesh.

The ringing in your ears subsides before lifting your hand and slapping Gary across the face as hard as you can-

Grimacing as his cock twitches inside you

It fills you with a dreadful anger- the scab peeled off. Naked in front of him- all of the emotions come rushing back.

You lift your hand again.

A large, much larger hand wraps around your wrist. Engulfing your hand in a way that makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise-

Danger, predator.

The top of the food chain.

The apex.

You twist your neck, a small breath you hope is undetected unwillingly leaving your lips as Gary's cock pushes against the spongey ceiling of your insides as you lean back

Ignoring the twitch of your toes

Only to be greeted with the skull balaclava

You thought you were mean?

Oh, you're about to meet someone much, much meaner sweetheart.

[orangeave]

not even ghosts are this empty

wednesday addams x gn!reader

summary: you dug a grave for two but you lay in the casket alone.

words: 1.2k

orange speaks: part two to the great war, with more angst (whoops?). hope y'all enjoy.

Plumes of smoke echo slowly out of your mouth, the blunt in your hand burning the edges of your fingers. You make no move to ease the subtle ache, secretly enjoying the weight of the blisters that form in their wake. A cough flowers in your throat when you inhale the sharp sting of night air afterwards but you hold it in place, forcing it to expand downward to create a rattle in your chest. It encompasses the entirety of your ribcage, swallowing the meat of your organs whole. 

The sensation is fleeting and you mourn it as it fades. There’s an emptiness that follows, one you’re making an unwilling acquaintance with since you left Wednesday’s dorm those short months ago. Time has been infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, passing by in hiccups of memory that never truly stick. 

The first few days following that night go by in denial, refusing to believe you had lost her. A hollow ticking resounding in your ears proves it to be true; vaguely signaling a countdown that tells you that you now carry a solar flare where your heart should reside, and it’s only a matter of time before it implodes. 

Loving Wednesday isn’t easy but neither is letting her go, and when the denial dwindles into tormenting acceptance, you are left with only the ghosts of her. They haunt each corner of your existence – both mental and physical – creating dark circles beneath your eyes that resemble tattoos more than they do skin. 

You attempt to exorcise Wednesday from your being and the vacancy within you becomes a cathedral; you pray at its illusionary, cobblestone steps but you are bent at the knees before a false god, incapable of offering reprieve. Wraiths have risen in relief’s stead – fallen too far to be ghosts any longer – and they are starving, snarling at the altar of your shortcomings. You will find no peace here when your body, laden with a lifetime of grief that ages you, is pirouetting upon crumbling earth. 

Resorting back to the roach in your trembling hands, you yearn for it to bring some semblance of life into the space you ache to fill. As you exhale, a shadow gathers in your peripheral in the shape of a girl you cannot escape. 

“I see you’ve come to dislike functioning lungs.” Wednesday dishes out, coming to stand by your sitting limbs that stretch out into the pond in front of you. Fathoming why she’s here, in the spot that once belonged to the two of you, is something you can’t grasp. 

Casual conversation is the last thing you want to participate in. It feels cheap; hollow. You deserve more than astute observations and meaningless slights. Something she’s averse to giving you, it seems, and the part of you that continues to die in its place hates her for it.

Youthfulness is forgotten when you are a rotting carcass forcing itself to breathe to a tempo that no longer comes naturally, dangling on flimsy strings that Wednesday commands, waltzing to the tune of her desires. A puppet master is what she is and you find no solace in this dance, not when the past lingers so close to the surface; of who you were to each other but will seldom be again. 

“Something like that.” You monotone, a slight shrug lifting your shoulders. 

There’s a tense set to her own shoulders at your response, the lack of expression in your voice pulling her entire body taut. A vengeful part of you revels in it, only to diminish into nothingness just as quickly, as everything else before it has. 

Your desolate eyes finally raise to meet Wednesday’s, causing hers to widen almost imperceptibly. They trace the heavy bags beneath your lashes then down to your still shaking hands and you come to understand her astonishment because up till now, you’ve managed to avoid her – a feat you were proud of. 

“Y/N…” She murmurs, reaching out for you. Wednesday’s fingers barely get the chance to brush against your arm before you’re recoiling away from the touch, water splashing up into your lap from where your legs hang in the pond. 

Oh, god.

There’s something to be said about the inbetween of dreams and reality; a certain dissonance that easily perpetuates the disruptive cognitive faults which riddle a half-aware person that the past haunts. Nightmares of memory which lead to dark, twisting backdrops that muddy the truth and serve to create monstrosities of unchecked thoughts. 

Falling asleep has always been a terrifying experience for you. In a moment's notice, you are suddenly the backseating, side character in the fluttering reel of torment plagued by the emergence of day. You have absolutely no control over the fate of each suffering you were forced to face and only hold the capacity to watch as it unfolds once again.

You are not asleep but you have spent the past months half-awake, and Wednesday’s touch yanks you right back to that night where your roles were in reverse. The details are still so fresh and it’s too much. It’s not fair the hold she has on you even now. 

“No, you don’t get to do this. Not now.” Your voice cracks, clumsily lifting your limbs from murky depths and rising to your full height. Water cascades down your form, leaving you shivering in the night air. A gasp chokes in your throat, panic seizing you and the ticking in your ears reaches a deafening roar. “I- After all this time, why now?”

Wednesday hesitates, the pause hanging in the air between you.

“Say something!” You bellow, panic turning into anger at her silence.

She shrinks back as you close the distance between you and it is wholly unlike her but you ignore it, invading her space. 

“I will never be good enough for you, will I?” You unevenly gasp out, realizing a long forgotten truth, “I plead, and I bargain, and I sacrifice, in the name of love. To heal the cracks in our façade but you stand before me, stoic as the day I met you, and give absolutely nothing in return.”

Her eyes follow your stance, expression shuttering to impassive and unseeing – hollow in a way you’ll never be able to change. All the anger drains out of you and when she goes to finally respond, mouth tentatively opening as she comes to know the sickness sinking beneath your mirage that you were never able to cleanse, you simply shake your head. 

In loving and losing her, you have lost yourself. You no longer know how to breathe air she does not exhale and disgust flares at who you’ve become; at who you’ve let her make you. Some cowardly thing, bent to the whims of a devil in the disguise of a god. 

Love is a fickle thing, so easily transforming into a monstrous being when betrayal hangs heavy in the space once wrought with the finer side of a bottled heaven. The feeling you welcome in love’s place should terrify you – for a moment, it does – but power is a corrupter in the hands of a widow. 

The implosion within you is beautifully damning – strings held in commandeering fingers snap, the corpse of you reborn in the ash of your submissiveness; flesh of the burnt coagulating into an armor made to pressurize the weight of your footsteps until the force of them cracks the earth, widening the gap of reality between the duality of life and death till it is but a mere phantom pain. 

Say, what’s a soul really worth?

You’ve already lost everything, what’s a little more? 

(– vultures have come to feast upon your bones; only the vulture is you and you’ve gorged upon yourself.)