Soaf

хозяин

Nobody. You wish it weren’t so apt. But he’s not a person, not anything of Earth.

Content: Dub-Con, Biting, Scratching, Exhibitionism, Possessive Behavior, Toxic Behavior

You must have pissed something off in a past life. Or they’re planning on giving you something really good in the next one. Because this… this is too much. He’s too much.

We are exactly right for you, khozyain.

It’s not just the taste of leather and oil on the back of your tongue each morning. Or the crimson smears on your sheets before bed. You could live with the shit sleep, the centuries of foreign memories, and the occasional hankering for raw meat that thins your appetite to nothing.

“You’re KorTac’s best operative?”

It’s a question you’ve heard a dozen times before – and will likely hear a dozen times more. The criticism is valid. You’re not an imposing figure; nothing impressive about you. Look more like a child in a Halloween costume than anything resembling a soldier. The question never bothers you because the unofficial title is as ill-fitting as the gun strapped to your thigh.

It’s not you they need to worry about bothering.

“We are. Problem, soldat?”

“There’s no problem, Nikto,” you answer in Sebastian Krueger’s place.

No, Krueger is too busy wondering where the big, dark figure behind your shoulder just came from. He could have sworn you stepped out of the transport alone. In broad daylight, no less. (That doesn’t mean there aren’t shadows.)

Nikto grunts, nearly tripping you with how closely he walks, toes of his boots nipping at the heels of yours. A stride twice the length of your own but doggedly following, not leading.

“Thought there was only one ‘a ya,” Declan O’Conor muses.

“Paperwork issue,” you lie, smiling.

Nikto grunts, pressing into your back as you stop in front of your temporary captain. You have to brace against his oppressive weight, feel yourself flush a bit when you don’t quite manage.

“Who’re you, then?” Declan asks, eyes on your shadow.

“Nikto,” comes the gruff reply.

Nobody.

You wish it weren’t so apt.

But he’s not a person, not anything of Earth. You don’t know if he ever was; he never gives you a straight answer when you pluck up the courage (or frustration) to ask. Last time, he told you that if he ever wanted to feel human, he’d just be inside you. (You’d flushed, didn’t know if he meant in your mind, where he often takes up unwanted residence, or… elsewhere. Couldn’t make yourself ask him to clarify, afraid of the answer. Jumped whenever he touched you for a week.)

You don’t know the exact bounds of this pact either. He listens to you only sometimes. When it suits him – or when it least suits you. And you’re not immune to his cruelty either, as the bruises and bitemarks and scratches can attest. Nothing like the romanticized crossroads deals you see in tv shows and movies.

Truthfully, you’re not even sure if he’s a punishment for you or if you’re a reward for him. What’s that line you read online once? Dog heaven is squirrel hell. Did he make a deal with you, or did he make a deal with something else, and you’re just collateral?

You never bother to ask. He’ll just click his forked tongue and tell you that it won’t get rid of him either way. The worst part is that he’ll be right. You’re pretty sure the Christian God as you know Him has nothing to do with any of this.

The mission doesn’t matter, not really. You only listen for objectives. Whoever needs killing, whatever information needs gathering, wherever the hostages are. The rest is all useless extra, so much noise to Nikto, not even listening. He’s too busy bullying his way between your thighs, sinking his teeth into the meat through your cargos.

You’re never sure if he’s visible or the other operatives just avoid looking at him in these moments. Regardless, you flush and kick at him when his jaw locks too hard. It’ll bruise livid and ugly, and he’ll fuck the head of his cock into the aching ring of teeth prints left behind.

He’s insistent when the briefing is over, riled up by the promise of bloodshed. Pushy and growling, nearly snapping through his “mask” as he herds you like a rabid shepherd to your temporary quarters.

He fucks you in the doorway though, using one thick arm to bounce you like a personal fleshlight. The other keeps your jaw forced open so he can spit and lick into your mouth, obscene and filthy.

You push and squirm, but he just laughs that awful, maniacal rattle and grinds your clit into his pelvis. Until you start to mean it when you whimper “no” and “stop.” It always makes him cum so hard that you taste ichor in the back of your throat.

It’s too much to hope that you’ll eat in the mess hall uninterrupted. Nikto’s presence attracts the worst, and Krueger is compelled to pick at the weakness you exude. It’s no question that he’s a bigger, stronger, meaner beast than you. But like a dying soldier left to scream in the field, there’s a muzzle hidden out of sight, awaiting whatever is lured in – for mercy or to feast.

Krueger takes the seat across from you, one of his boots landing heavy and threatening on top of yours. You eat quietly, picking at your mashed potatoes and rubbery chicken. Listen to him jab and jeer.

Nikto is there but he’s not. He’s laughing in your ear at all the true but derisive things Krueger is taunting you with. All the sins he boasts of and the reactions he takes as proof of your inadequacy for the assignment you’ve been brought for. It would hurt more of you didn’t know it was true – and if your nerves weren’t rattling.

There’s a line, always a line. Some fault hidden beneath the surface that you don’t see until the ground splits and swallows up the unfortunate soul above.

This time, it’s a comment about how much more useful you’d be as a cockwarmer.

The plastic fork is an inch from his eye by the time you finish blinking.

“Nikto, stop!”

It snaps in his tight fist – but stops. Krueger hasn’t even processed how close he was to losing half his sight before you’re yanking Nikto back by the straps. He’s growling, snarling, half-crazed over a comment he’s made himself. You abandon your mostly full tray and the table altogether, putting all your weight and strength into dragging him from the cafeteria.

“Calm down, that’s enough!” you shout over the animalistic sounds ripping from his throat.

He turns on you instead. Pins you to the wall just outside, in full view of anyone passing on their way to dinner.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he’s chanting. Ripping through your pants (that’s the second pair this week) and thrusting against the seam of your ass. Already leaking precum from an obsidian tip at the small of your back, the corpse-pale base nestled between your cheeks. If he had the coordination through the frenzy, he’d stuff it into you dry and tight. As it is, it’s all he can do to buck against you, fingers digging divots into the cement wall, dust raining down on your face.

Mine, mine, mine, he chants inside your skull in languages known and unknown. You’re leaking through your underwear, too overwhelmed and bewildered to be anything but turned on. Fear is synonymous with attraction, those two wires soldered together and circuited to your pussy.

Copper fills your nose, warmth drips down your lips. Nikto scents it like a hound, yanks your head back to lap at the blood, groaning into your mouth.

Yours, yours, yours as his cock splutters against your spine, too hot. Tingly, almost caustic. You can barely breathe and he’s hauling you over one big shoulder, scooping your slick to prod at the hole he was just grinding against.

Us as you’re pinned with nowhere to go and no voice to praise or protest. In a room darker than a void. Suspended on an endless continuum of pleasure and pain, phantom claws raking your skin and phantom mouths filling whatever holes his cock isn’t occupying.

Sometimes you wonder if the plural “we” and “us” he tends to use is in reference to you and him, or…

The mission is going to be a success, it always is. You separate from the rest of the KorTac squad, shooing Nikto’s hands out from under your shirt. The claw marks still sting; the sooner you can get out of tac gear, the better.

He cracks his neck as the two of you approach the infil point. It sounds like snapping bone. A crescent moon carves into the night sky, sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“Is it time, khozyain?”

Those cajoling whispers caress your ears again. To let him run rampant, to let him fill your bath with blood. He’d be a scourge on the earth if you let him, a one-man apocalypse. The death of the world for a slip of the tongue.

Your hold on his leash is so tight that it’s imprinted past the skin, down into muscle. But on nights like tonight, for things like this… you let out the lead.

“Stay clear of Point B,” you remind into your com.

“Roger,” all others agree.

If they know what’s good for them, they’ll abide by the plan like holy writ. Not even you can promise their lives if they stray.

Shadow looms behind you, grows with each beat of your heart, spills over your shoulders, threads down your arms. You don’t dare glance at the inhuman head hovering right by yours, the maw parting for vicious, pearlescent teeth and pooling saliva. Hungry. Starving.

“Nikto.”

A rolling, ravenous churr vibrates through your skull. The lowest windows of your target begin to crack.

“Hunt.”

@crunchyheartbeat (what a satisfying name) made a GhostxReader post and I had to nyoom in on a HC I have:

Imagine in those fics where Ghost has a decent flat and good taste, he has these to drink from

Forever his 🩷Soap🩷

Some small tidbits of what I think Soap would do if he fell in love

John "Soap" MacTavish who smiles to himself when thinking of you. John "Soap" MacTavish who might or might not take a small bottle of your perfume/cologne to spray on his pillow at night. John "Soap" MacTavish who writes letters to his mother back home about the beauty that is in his life, who promises to bring them to meet her.

John "Soap" MacTavish who makes sure to memorizes your favorite songs so he can learn the words to sing them to you John "Soap" MacTavish who made Ghost promise that if push comes to shove on a bad mission, he will be there to look after you.

I hope you loved it, I am thinking of maybe doing some of these for a few other characters *kisses*

His prying eyes -Nikto-

Feeling your fingers glide across the keyboard as you continue your progress to end the day. Lord knows how many hours you have been cramped over your computer trying to find out wanted data for your team.

You would think that sense hacking is a big part of the military maybe they would give you a more comfortable work space, but yet you got stuck with a squeaky chair and dim lighting. Standing up to stretch and flex your calves, you walk to the much needed coffee that's in the vending machine.

"y/n"

It was so light that you almost didn't catch it, you almost didn't hear the quick breath of your name that rolled off his tongue.

Your skin is crawling, it is like your entire body has been alerted of something near that shouldn't be. Shifting your eyes from one end of the hall to another ,you look but there is nothing. Maybe your just paranoid. It can certainly happen when your staring at the same screen all day.

You start retrieving back to your working desk only to be startled that your coworker is sitting there. "Nikto" you say out loud. How in the balls did you miss seeing this giant guy walk right into your office, let alone sitting in your chair.

"We came to see if you have finished with what we needed" He rasps out.

You walk to your desk to start printing out the papers that needs to go into the vanilla file. "Ya I am just about done here, it took me awhile but thankfully I was able to attain everything we needed". He grunts in response but it is something you expected.

Nikto is a man of short talks, he speaks when needed and sometimes he doesn't speal even when it is needed. Most of the time he grunts or huffs, walking around base like he has no care in the world, but what you didn't know is that he did have a care for you. A very small crack in his shitty heart that he set to the side when it came to you. Something you never seemed to notice was the fact that he was the one to always come to retrieve you when you were needed, or be the first one to spare with you when it came to practice your combat skills.

He never really cared much when it came to women in his life, but god did the hair on his skin stand when he sees you. His mouth dries out and his hands start to shake, you've been a part of his team for a while and he hopes to keep it that way.

Grabbing ahold of the file and passing it on to him, he says a simple thanks and walks out, not to long after you follow in his foot steps sense work is done and over with.

you just wish you could break this feeling that your being watched.

--- I hope you enjoyed this little chapter I wrote out for yall. Please know that this is my first time writing fanfiction so if you don't like it please don't leave any mean comments, but if you have any ideas on how I can improve please let me know!!!---

His favorite -Ghost-

Simon "Ghost" Riley who bought a glass cup of your favorite color so he can drink bourbon out of. Simon "Ghost" Riley who nicknamed his gun a similar name to yours. Simon "Ghost" Riley who pushes soap over during meal times so he can sit next to you first.

Simon "Ghost" Riley who watches the insane amount of TikTok's you send him so you know that he appreciates them

Simon "Ghost" Riley who is always a few inches behind you in the battle field because he would never let anyone harm you.

I hope you enjoyed, maybe tomorrow I will post something about price. Thank you!!!

Oh my god, I love this 💗

blue eye blast on patreon 💙💥💙

To far to touch -Ghost-

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, his therapist looking straight at him.

"Let's go through this again" Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he starts to focus on his finger tips, then his shoulders and his ears It was like he could feel your presence close by, walking through the hallways, taking a shower, sitting down to eat a meal. "She was my everything" He says outload. He remembers the way that you would hold out your hand as a way to invite him to sit with you. The clothes he would pick out for you when you would ask him to. The big smile that overcame most of your face when he would laugh at your jokes. "Then why did you kill them?" He felt his heart stop and his head light. During these moments when he was in this office he sometimes would remember that he is there and not somewhere with you. "What are you talking about?" his voice sounding a bit squeaky. "You don't remember Simon?" Think of the flowers, think of the hospital bed and the morning dew" He was close to crying at this point, his hands gripping the chair like it was going to be ripped from his grasp. "Y/N asked me to!" His breathing heavy and hard. "Y/n was ill" he said to himself.

You held his hand as he led you to the flowers, the roses that you guys had planted together many months before. The unforgivable favor, the whisper he still hears when the sun starts to show. "Put me to rest Ghost, put me out of this pain" He would wish that his gun might get stuck in the chamber when he set it against your temple. "Remember me always" "Always and forever" He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. "I don't know what your talking about" he would repeat as he does each day. When the cuffs are put back on his wrist and Price is walking him back to his cell, he can almost catch your perfume as if you were there with him.

I am not sure how i feel about this one exactly but maybe I will re write it down the line when I have more thought for it. I hope you enjoyed!

My life -Gaz-

Here is a little love for my baby Gaz. TW: None

F/N = First name L/N = Last name

Gaz loves to have his things in order. Being on time, clothes being folded a certain way, his shampoos and body soap put in there correct spots in the shower. Sometimes he leaves room for error if he ever needed an off day, some time to himself, but tonight, it had to be perfect.

When it came to you, he needed to feel like he has everything in control. He needed to be perfect and needed to have his things in order for you.

Holding the ring in his hand, snugged inside the pink fuzzy box he stuck into his pocket with a toothy grin on his face. He had planned everything. Made sure Soap and Ghost sent you on a "much needed assignment", while being able to convince price to use the common room to bring together a night you wouldn't forget.

A big banner hanging from the ceiling, extra cushions put onto dining chairs and a table cloth draped over the table. He didn't forget to put on the tux for your guys' shared dog. Everything was exactly as he had imagined it.

The only thing now was to wait for you.

Heart thumping, nervous glances, he watches as you slowly walk in, a blindfold covering your eyes.

"Where are you taking me soap" you say, chuckling out loud

Soap looking at Gaz and backing away from the door.

"Right for this moment" Gaz says

Removing your blindfold and looking at him, there is Gaz, one leg on the floor with the pink fuzzy box in his hand.

Tears running down his face, his hands trembling to the point that he almost drops the ring.

F/N L/N, I have spent every waking day of my life waiting for my moment like this, my moment that I would be able to spend with the one I love, the one I want to hold, and take care of, my one that I would kill for and die for, I have never been more willing in my life to put everything behind me to move forward in life

F/N L/N will you marry me?

Cries of nervousness turning into cries of joys as he hears you scream yes!

Tripping over his legs while trying to run towards you, he indulges you in a hug and slowly slips the ring onto your finger.

"You are my start and my end to life F/N, thank you"

Thank you for reading my sweet loves!! I hope y'all are having a wonderful Morning, evening, or night!

His Muse -Caption price-

John Price who will only smoke his cigars when he is not close to you because he is afraid that you'll get second hand smoke.

John Price who likes to sit out in the rain while holding your hand and saying stupid pick up lines like "Even the rain can't keep me away from you".

John Price who lays you in his lap and reads your favorite book to you when your feeling stressed or upset.

John price who pays for all of your groceries, book outings, your morning coffee or tea, and fusses at you if you try to pay.

John Price who is an absolute sucker for a home cook meal and will get on his knees to beg for you to make him one.

John Price who takes you to the shooting rang to help train you at the same time and same day because a routine is very important to him.

This man right here is absolutely delicious. How can I not make a little post about my favorite bear. I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!!