S.A.U.S Records

UNAUTHORIZED DUPLICATION OF FILES AND RECORDS PROHIBITED. [C.O.D fan blog. OCs, Canon x OC, and Canon x Reader.] [21 yrs. they/them]

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S.A.U.S INDEPENDENT CONTRACTS.

/Special Agents Underground Services OFFICAL PERSONNEL FILES.

`Míchéal Gallagher

`Rory "Sparrow" Roberts

`Sammy "Icarus" Rokster

`"Dust Mite"

`Nicolas "Jitters" Haugen

`Archie "Rot" Grahams

`Dr.Volkov

[Reader inserts]

`_____ "Feral" ____

`_____ "Vulture" ____

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Need yalls opinion on what the omegaverse guys smell like? I feel like Soap has a drift wood, ocean, wheat like smell? of course he also smells a bit musky 24/7. Not in like a bad way, most of the time. And then Ghost probably smells like old books, kinda damp and dusty?, smoke and ash, and vanilla...idk why but he smells like vanilla in my head. Bro smells like a burnt down cafe and book store. Price has the basic man smell, some musky cologne that mixes with his cigar smoke. Sadly I have no ideas for Gaz ;-; Can't decide what my precious lil omega smells like. I just can't think of anything. help.

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Soaps first time with Feral is after a night of drinking. He ends up drinking more than everyone else, which isn't too much of a surprise from the Scottish man. He ends up slumped against Feral, head buried in their neck, taking deep breaths of their soured scent. Later when Price takes Gaz home and Ghost leaves on his own, Soap clings onto Feral.

Soap who crowds Feral into his little single bedroom apartment, growling in jealousy over how close Gaz and Feral are. Soap who drops down to his knees promising to show Feral just how badly they need each other.

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The ashy blonde janitor was curled up on the lieutenants bed. One hand stretched out to grasp onto the thin material of the sheets. Scrunching them up in a weak grip. Ghost stood over them, large arms crossed over a larger chest, staring down unamused.

"Did this to yourself." Ghost states. Shaking his head.

Dust Mite groans, making a sick noise as they curl up closer. "I didn't mean to order double! The first driver said it arrived thirty minutes before it did." The identical empty pastry bags are stuffed into a small trash bin. Two donuts, two chocolate croissants, and two strawberries and cream croissants. Ghost had taken mercy on the kid, and ate one of the donuts and shaded a croissant. But it wasn't enough. And now Dust Mite was sick to their stomach on his bed.

"You shouldn't have eaten all of it." Dust just groans, a pitiful look glossing over their eyes. Ghost sighs. His arms falling to his sides. "I'll fetch you some water." He walks to the door. Glancing back over his shoulder, "And a bucket."

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Price and his toxic!Spouse making him sleep on the couch most nights. It's always said over dinner, with Price digging into the food his wife threw onto a plate for him. A full dish of rounded out foods, nothing he doesn't like. His steak cooked to his preference. And his wife's fork scraps against the plate each time she stabs it into her own portions. Her umpteenth glass of wine close to empty and ready for another refill. "Do not even think you're sleeping in my bed tonight, John." She's disgusted with him. Glaring at her husband from across the table. "The couch again, doll? What have I done this time?" She just rolls her eyes. Setting her fork down and pushing her chair back, scrapping against the polished floor. "I've lost my appetite. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the night."

John who knows his wife can't sleep without him. So every night, he indulges in her tantrums. Up until it's past midnight and he can hear her pattering around upstairs in their her room. He isn't gonna let her feelings towards him ruin her rest. So like every other night that he's told to sleep on the couch, he ends up cuddling his wife in their bed. Holding her as she cries herself to sleep cursing his name.

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Johnny who tags along with Míchéal on their shared off day to go to a car show Míchéal is participating in. Cut to Johnny having to use Míchéal's jacket to hide his boner when Míchéal shows off one of his tricks from college, having his lowrider bounce up and down over him. Made worse by how sexual he makes it, and that stupid cocky grin on Míchéal's face.

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Price inviting his men over for dinner with his missus, saying they all deserve a nice home cooked meal after such a strenuous and horrid mission that dragged on a few days longer than planned. Only for Price to have to duck out of the way of a wine glass being hauled at his head as soon as he opens his door. A smile on his face as he greets his wife standing in the hallway, dressed in a lace slip and bathrobe hanging off of one shoulder, and looking at her husband as if she wished he had died long ago.

[rawme-price]

The concept of alpha!ghost who clings to beta!reader in a not so socially acceptable way...

Ghost has long since lost care for normal social conventions. He's the alpha who stinks up the place because he can't be bothered to wear scent blockers, not like anyone else on base does either. He growls when he wants to and with his freakish size is more than willing to push people around. Everyone knows about ghost, how could you not?

What people don't realize is just how in tune he is with others emotions and scents.

He acts like he doesn't care in the hopes people would stop fucking shoving their scent at him, yet they still do. In a base full of too many alphas and omegas, he almost always has a migraine from everyone else's scents.

Well. Everyone but you.

You, the mechanic that absolutely refuses to share shop space and is too skilled to really replace. You're also a beta. A fact that ghost became distinctly aware of when he had to get your signature on some paperwork after he totaled a humvee.

Even as you reamed ghost for the state he turned the humvee in, yelling and waving your hands, your scent never once left that bland neutral so many betas possessed.

The entire time you spent yelling at him, ghosts head didn't hurt once. It was like bliss that left him rumbling in delight and you calling him a freak.

Now, you're essentially ghosts mental reset button.

If he's not loitering in your shop all day, then he's popping in every few hours to shove his nose into your neck.

No, he doesn't care who else is around when he does it. They're not the ones with a splitting migraine, are they? He makes up for it with snacks and buying you random shit, so you let him do what he needs.

Once, when you were waiting in line for lunch, everyone tensed and stepped away only for ghost to be at your back. Wrapping thick arms around your middle and nuzzling into your scent glands with a rumble. You nipped at him more out of habit than correction, but let him get his fill in the middle of lunch, not like you care either way.

Oddly enough, people stop approaching you to ask for a date. Eh, more time to spend in the shop, then.

[rawme-price]

The concept of human!reader accidentally driving wolf!ghost insane....

You recently bought some new perfume, a thick rich scent that only serves to amplify your own natural musk, and ghost is obsessed.

Worse than that is how you love to reapply it all the time, subtle to humans but he's practically choking on that delicious scent from you. Anything of his that you touch picks up the scent, as if you were some coy wolf trying to get a sense of ghosts mating prospects.

He raises his brow when you stay back after a meeting to reapply, hovering just a touch too close so he can smell the minute change it takes on upon touching your skin "new perfume, sergeant? It's nice."

"Hm? Oh, yeah! I like the earthy stuff," you tell him, dropping the tiniest bit of oil onto your wrist and rubbing them together. The sight has ghosts stomach turning, knowing if you were a wolf hybrid the room would reek from that action. "Do you want to try some? It's pretty strong."

"Hm—?" Before ghost can even speak, you're already slipping a hand under the hem of his balaclava to rub a bare wrist into the skin of his next. "Fuck–! Ohh...hm....!"

A deep, pleased rumble spills out of ghost, and not seconds later you're being pinned to the meeting table, ghosts whole body on top of yours with lidded eyes. "christ love, do thst again."

"What...ghost?" You mumble, dazed, hand still under the mask. "I– I mean– you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Ghost whines, ears pinning. A large, clawed hand wraps around your forearm, manually moving your wrist against his skin. His whole body shudders "fuck! Mhhh keep going. Like that."

"Holy– is this like...a thing for you?" You grin, ignoring the stretch of your thighs being pushed so far apart for him to grind his bulge against you. Ghost rumbles and grunts, all animal.

He couldn't explain the fact you're practically claiming him as your mate, or at least your breeding bitch, not like you'd care much when his eyes go all glossy under the mask "please– please, love, please. I need–"

"Go on, ghost, I want to see this." You urge. that one chat about soaps partners coming to mind, you shove a hand into ghosts pants and wrap a firm grip over his knot.

"Fuck! Holy– hmmm! Thank you!" He pants, tail thrashing behind him. You watch, enraptured, as a large wet patch forms in the front of his jeans. Christ, that's a lot of cum.

"Wow. That was so worth eighty quid." You snort, only to get a huffy nip from ghost, who seems intent on smothering you under hum.

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scrolling through old posts to try and reignite my creative spark (since I've been really upset with how much work has just been draining me and my creativity), and I came across this in one of my tags and-

who let me just leave this here without expanding on it? Like hello? What do you mean past me had this idea and was just like 'yeah, a sentence or two is enough'. Like get your ass back here and write this you bastard!

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'Bust Your Windows' by Jazmine Sullivan and the thought of Sparrow and her ex; specifically after his betrayal/traitor status is discovered and the aftermath of that.

[rawme-price]

Soap gets oddly posessive about your body hair. Yes, He calls your bush his "little lawn" while brushing his fingers through it at night. He begs for the honor of getting to "mow" it, trimming it into different shapes if you allow. His favorite is a heart but the landing strip is lovely too, especially if you can manage a happy trail.

The day you wax it is the day he fears. He'll brush over the skin with sad puppy eyes wondering where his little forest went...then get distracted by the thought of glazing it with cum. Horny bastard.

Inspired by [this] gaz post by @phoebeselwyn

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Me getting a million pt 2 requests for my shitty badly written short fic knowing I feel deep dissatisfaction of how both the rewrite and original came out

ps: not upset with the requests at all appreciate all the hype it's getting <3

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me after eating chili and not realizing it has tomatoes in it until it was too late

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update, I'm fine now. After two hours I stopped feeling like I was breathing through a straw and now I'm completely okay and like nothing happened. God tried to weaken me, but it only made me stronger

[lialucis]

I swear I'm going to staple a sign to your forehead that says allergic to tomatoes

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low-key how was I supposed to know there were tomatoes in chili? They full on hid it in there just to assassinate me cause I'm too op :/

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me after eating chili and not realizing it has tomatoes in it until it was too late

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update, I'm fine now. After two hours I stopped feeling like I was breathing through a straw and now I'm completely okay and like nothing happened. God tried to weaken me, but it only made me stronger

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me after eating chili and not realizing it has tomatoes in it until it was too late

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So let's say....hypothetically...I was planning on writing up some short smut pieces for Feral! and the guys, how would y'all want the genitalia to be portrayed? Are we thinking vague like 'hole' 'strokes you' ect leaving it very open to ones interpretation. Are we leaning towards female genitalia? Male genitalia? Both? Are we gonna do it half and half were two out of the four pieces will be female and the other two male? Opinions, thoughts?