ToxicRemixx
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Johnny dies. Death appears wearing a skull mask and a face Johnny trusts too much. Given one last mercy, and one last goodbye, Johnny chooses to go gently with Death, leaving behind grief, love unspoken but not forgotten and a touch Ghost will never quite forget.
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Soap lacked a scent, and it made Ghost’s mind wander. What would it be like if he smelled straight from Soap’s neck? Would he be able to catch a whiff of pheromones, or a hint of his natural musk? If Ghost scented him, how long would it stick? What if Ghost came on his neck, would he—
He stopped tapping his pen. Ghost reeled at the abrupt shift in his thoughts, uncertain where the fuck that had come from.
Okay, sure. Soap was, objectively, attractive. With his long eyelashes, baby blues, pouty lips, high cheekbones, tight little ass—
Okay. Ghost had to calm down. It wasn’t appropriate to harbor these sorts of attractions for his subordinate.
But…what was the harm in fantasizing?
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Soap, a beta, is used to being left in the dust by alphas who are just looking for a quick shag. But how can Ghost convince him that he wants more, that it's not just a fling?
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The first one to spot the toy is Price. The first one to use it is Gaz.
It goes like this: the 141’s been officially moved into a unit barracks together, individual bedrooms circling a commons with a reasonably-sized bathroom and what could charitably be called a kitchen if you were looking at it sideways. Separate enough from the main barracks and officer’s quarters to be technically private, but definitely more aiming to separate them just that bit more from the usual riff-raff, give them that extra edge of deniability. Not that they mind, those of them that socialize manage to do it plenty besides, and the ones of them that don’t appreciate having a place to sit quietly without interruption.
So when Price first sees the thick tube sitting on the coffee table as he preps for the morning, plastic and shiny and with a little clear strip down the side to see the soft pink insides, he assumes one of his Sergeants was having a little fun the night previous and forgot to clean up after. It’s a pleasant thought to be sure, one he’ll consider for the rest of the day, so he leaves it be.
Series
- Part 16 of Noc’s Military Propaganda
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Mapping the Social and Biological Landscapes of the Omegaverse by MonMonniMon
Fandoms: The Omegaverse - Fandom, Original Work, (not really but kind of?) - Fandom
09 Oct 2025
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A fanwork written in the style of a research paper describing and explaining the workings of my personal omegaverse design. My ode to the omegaverse.
This work is in no way supposed to tell anyone else how to write the omegaverse, it’s just my interpretation, a project I started as a way to get a more solid understanding of the Omegaverse I wanted to write, which then turned into something much more. Feel free to take bits you like if you want to, this was written for myself and then as it got bigger I thought “Hey, maybe other people would find it interesting too!”
If you read this fic, thank you for giving my silly little research paper fanfic a chance, it was just a bit of fun enrichment for my autism enclosure.
Series
- Part 1 of Call Of Duty Omegaverse
Bookmarked by ToxicRemixx
09 Oct 2025
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Summary
John “Soap” MacTavish is frozen under the weight of a singular glowing golden eye. Its vertical pupil dilates and contracts and Soap swears he can feel the physical weight of a touch skimming over his body as it trails up and down him, assessing. The touch feels as if a singular sharp claw is being dragged over his skin, holding him in place with the silent threat of evisceration should he so much as breathe.
So he doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t move, he can’t even bring himself to look away from that eye as he’s studied; as his fate is decided by the sleek, inky black creature standing just a few feet in front of him.
Soap’s skin feels as if it’s burning under the weight of that stare, but he’s finally able to take a breath in. He lets it out through his nose slowly, quietly, and is careful not to move as he tries to convince his body he isn’t in danger.
But he isn’t convinced. . . isn’t even close, and as he’s able to finally tear his gaze away from the one eye that he can see, he becomes almost sure that he is in danger.
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Bookmarked by ToxicRemixx
03 Oct 2025