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Price smiles, and reaches out to pet though the thick ruff of fur between Ghost's powerful shoulders. "Tomorrow," he promises, "you can feast."
Ghost's reptilian tongue flicks out, once. "And the day after?"
"Soon, Simon, I swear," Price tells him. "Once I have the throne, you will have all the attentive audiences and fresh meat you can stand."
Neither Soap nor Gaz know how Ghost came to be in Price's service. It is one of those things that defies an origin story - where Price was, there was Ghost. Where Price went, Ghost followed. Whatever magic binds them goes deeper than skin, than bone.
And in all the time Price has known him, Ghost's hunger is endless. His devotion, tireless.
Soap and Gaz slumber on, unaware, as Ghost lifts his reptilian head and licks, delicately, over Price's lips. "You'll have your throne," he whispers, rough and ardent, breathless when Price tilts his head and kisses one of his large, exposed fangs.
"Rest, love," Price commands, and Ghost obediently lowers his heads, and closes his eyes.
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Soap's file paints him as aggressive, reactive - he imagines it's been a surprise for his Captain and fellow Sergeant to see him so easily brought to heel under Ghost's boot.
But he can't help himself - it's primal, pure instinct, that makes him want to follow Ghost wherever he leads. Having someone push him to be his best self, be firm and clear with his orders, make sure Soap knows his place and doesn't put a toe out of line.
He never knew how much he craved a strong, guiding hand, until it was attached to the wolf currently sitting at his side, staring at him.
Series
- Part 5 of 2026 Monsterfucker Week
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The world has gone to Hell, and Soap couldn't be happier about it.
Given his relatively isolated homestead, it had taken a while before he even heard of the first outbreak. It was billed as a drug trip gone wrong, a bunch of people high on bath salts eating people's faces in Florida. Then Georgia. Then up through the rest of the United States. Bodies rose from the morgues, groaning and shuffling, devouring any living thing in their path. Hospitals in India, Africa, Australia, South America. London, eventually; the outbreak spreading, the dead walking the Earth and feasting on the flesh of the living.
And Soap, admittedly, is having a grand old time.
Series
- Part 4 of 2026 Monsterfucker Week
- Part 2 of Martyr
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Sometimes, Ghost really, really hates his job.
Series
- Part 3 of 2026 Monsterfucker Week
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Rumors aplenty surround this cave, telling of a cursed creature, with hair of snakes and a look that can turn a man to stone in a single blink; a great slithering beast, shrieking its anger whenever something invades its lair. Heroes and soldiers in their hundreds have been ordered to breach the cave, to slay the monster inside, but none of those have made it out alive.
Soap has often wondered, if no one who saw the monster lived to tell the tale, how they know what it looks like, what it is.
Series
- Part 2 of 2026 Monsterfucker Week
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The air reeks of fire when John walks into the Prince's bedchamber, his tail flicking behind him in a lazy coil, and lets the door swing closed. It scrapes along the floor, and while John made no effort to be quiet, he winces at the sound.
And, predictably, conjures a low, aggressive snarling from somewhere in the darkness. The dragon speaks before John can, white fire flickering in and out as his mouth moves; "So," he begins, hostility dripping from every word, "this is what they send me."
Series
- Part 1 of 2026 Monsterfucker Week
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Simon loves his job. He loves being the first line of defense on the worst day of people's lives, his extensive background in some of the most Hellish pits of the world giving him a level head and the ability to quickly triage and reassure, get people where they need to go so that they can be saved. The wail of incoming sirens is his new background of gunfire, the rush of people around him feels more like home than anywhere else. The scent of blood and the beeping of machines keeping someone clinging to life before the doctors get their hands on them is familiar as a heartbeat.
People have a much better chance of survival in the hospital than they do in the field. At least, when Simon's at the helm.
The only dark mark in his job is MacTavish.
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They flirt, they drink together, they sit in the mess with their thighs and elbows touching. They joke and check in on each other when one of them (Ghost) is too stubborn to go to medical.
They're…friends.
Ghost hates that they're just friends.
But friendship is more than he ever expected and he won't compromise that for anything. He'll pine and suffer in silence and shove his forefinger into the lip of the bottle and wonder how the stiff, cool glass would compare to Soap's soft, inviting mouth.
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If I Loved You (Like I'm Capable Of) by HigherMagic for ConcernedGravy
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
05 Jul 2025
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MacTavish looks at each of them in turn, then he says, "In our universe, we're both dead." Soap's eyes widen. "Pretty nasty how it happened, but it happened. We're trying to get back to it, turn back the clock as it were. For that, we need your help."
"How?" Ghost asks, sitting forward. "How can we help?"
"Strong connections," Riley says, stepping up to his Captain's side. They look…comfortable together. Like Riley carved himself a place at MacTavish's side and claimed it for his own. The thought comes to him suddenly and without warning - no one else can stand in that spot, no one else has earned that spot at MacTavish's side. The tension in his gut curls up tighter, bristling. Riley's eyes are on Ghost. "In every universe - and I mean every one we've managed to make contact with - we, that is, whoever is playing the part of 'Simon Riley' and 'John MacTavish', they're connected in some way. Powerfully. We've been…trying to heighten those connections as best we can."
Ghost frowns. "Heighten them how?"
"Through sex, mostly," Riley says, like that's just something you say. He shrugs. "Seems to be the quickest and easiest way to do it."
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That Wouldn't Be So Awful by HigherMagic for brainrotstephhh
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
28 Jun 2025
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"Do you think there is one?" he whispers, turning just enough to meet Soap's eyes. "A life where you and I are…happy, together."
"If there isn't, I'll make one," Soap insists. "This one."
"So that's it then," Simon murmurs. "We escape to the North, shack up together, and live happily ever after?"
Soap swallows, tries to take a deep breath. "Would that be so awful?" He cannot help how pitiful the words come out, hurting somewhere he cannot name at the idea of his Omega, his Simon, having all the freedom in the world to choose his Alpha and still finding Soap lacking. Still believing, somehow, that there is a world where Soap finds love in the arms of another, a stranger, and that he'd be better for it.
Simon regards him for a long moment, and then he smiles. "No," he confesses, and reaches for Soap again. He takes Soap's hand and squeezes, just once. "No, that wouldn't be so awful." -
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“I’ve never seen an alien that size,” Ghost says. “Or with that physiology.”
“Scraping the database tells us it…appeared one day,” Laswell says. Ghost looks at her in surprise, and she shrugs. “There’s no other data. I think Graves kept his journals physical, and had all the Shadows do the same. There are no logs, no scientific reports, no tests or studies. These two photos and Nox’s distress call are all I have.”
“So…you think it, what? Hatched?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
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Love Like a Black Hole by HigherMagic for Ivillpunchyouinthethroat
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
04 Jan 2025
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“How many people do I have to kill, Johnny?” he asks, begs without begging. Soap’s lips twitch, like the whole damn thing’s funny. It’s hysterical, it really is, in that manic and insane kind of way. That Ghost can sneak to his room in the dead of night and feed him the flesh of something that mere hours ago laughed and drank and joked with their friends, and still be afraid to do more than put his hands on Soap’s throat. “How many until you let me have you?”
Soap blinks up at him, radiant in the low light. Half-shadow and half-man, he’s everything Ghost would have died for when he had the chance. Now he has no choice but to live for it.
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Hannibal makes spooky games for Will, who is notoriously unflappable while playing them. Jump scares, eerie noises, creepy visuals, none of it phases him.
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It was all laid out: Arthur would be an Alpha until the day he died. He would marry a noblewoman who wouldn't be able to scent the difference and would be far too proper and smart to spread gossip. Arthur would never reveal that he was an Omega, to anyone. He would never let anyone touch him too much, get close enough to scent him, never show the gold in his eyes. Never, never, never.
It was all going rather well until Merlin showed up.
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The first time Hannibal falls in love, it's two hours after the wedding to his new husband, and the first conversation they've actually shared with no one around to overhear. His uncle had insisted on the match and Hannibal had expected some shy wisp of a boy, no courage or brain to worry about.
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"So what's up?" She sits back, folds one leg over the other, and puts her hands in her lap, mimicking his position. He smiles at her, slight and fond, before he exhales and looks away to his desk, where everything is in perfect order down to the right angle.
"I find myself…directionless, lately," he finally says, after what feels like a solid ten minutes and Margot idly wonders if he intends to just wait her out. "I don't believe it's due to any emotional distress – at least, none that would be cured through medicine. I believe I am…succumbing to the oft-unseen and barely studied disorder that plagues single Alphas my age. Loneliness."
His nose wrinkles, just for a second, and he says the word with such utter bafflement and annoyance that Margot barely manages not to crack a joke. "It's natural to crave companionship," she says instead. "You've been single as long as I've known you, and I think as long as Alana has. No mate, no kids. Probably not that many close friends. Even if you didn't want them, and never did, I know that sometimes it's just…nice, to have someone to come home to." She bites the inside of her lower lip. "Have you ever thought about adoption?"
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Will knows he's in for it when he gets home. For a very brief moment, he considers not going home at all. He knows Hannibal is going to be mad. He thinks about telling Hannibal he's working late, or that he decided not to drive home. He'd probably get away with it too, if Hannibal is willing to believe that it's in character for Will to choose not to drive home in the dead of night out of some fear for his safety.
The odds of that aren't high, though. Hannibal knows Will better than anyone, that's one of the things that makes him so damn annoying sometimes.
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When one Will Graham first stepped into Hannibal's coffee shop, Hannibal had thought he was a vampire at first. Or perhaps a very fresh and particularly pretty ghoul. The scent of death hung around him like a pervasive fog, and he was so exhausted it was an easy mistake to make. Only upon approaching him and speaking to him did Hannibal realize he was a human.
Possibly one of the most beautiful things Hannibal had ever seen, but that's beside the point
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Baited by HigherMagic for HannibalsTie
Fandoms: Hannibal (TV), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
02 Nov 2022
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Whoever wrote that absence made the heart grow fonder must not have been nearly as in love as Hannibal is with Will - for him, separation only makes him ache terribly, like a poison in his blood and a heavy rock in his stomach.
His only balm is that Will seemed to miss him just as much. Even with…distractions at home.
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Hannibal did not tell Will not to touch himself for two reasons. The first, frankly, is that he doesn't truly believe Will could last longer than half a day without doing so. The second reason is that he likes watching Will do it.