Farah – This might be controversial, but I don’t get the vibe she’s eaten much pussy, if at all. Not a munch.
Alex – Better with his fingers than his tongue, and idk why I get that energy. Not a munch, but uses his words like his weapons, so he's never heard a single complaint.
Valeria – MUNCH. Dirty, nasty, dominant. I need her so bad it’s not even funny anymore
+
Alejandro – Is a wicked, wicked man in the bedroom. Gets off on making his partner feel good. He knows he has the grin, and he uses it. Munch.
Rudy – Not a munch BUT has a subby streak that makes him exceptionally eager to please, so he knows how to eat for sure.
+
Laswell – Is wifed up for a reason. That is all.
Graves – Surprisingly alright, but definitely not a munch. Likes to think he’s better than he is.
+
Soap – This man INVENTED the word “munch”. Emotionally intense, confident, high achiever? Will NOT come up for air until he's got several orgasms in the bag. The only death he'll accept is by pussy. Came untouched the first time he got his mouth on one.
+
Gaz – This was difficult to decide for some reason. EITHER:
Not a munch, but *very* good regardless. He knows it, and it strokes his ego, but he'd never admit it.
OR
Total munch. Messy, sloppy, loud. Is still the prettiest, even with the bottom half of his face covered
+
Ghost – Also not a munch. Prefers to do other stuff. I feel like his stroke game and fingers do the heavy lifting 😏🙂↕️
Caveat – put a pussy on Soap? He doesn’t leave until his jaw locks up and he can’t feel his tongue. Down bad at all times. Lost in the Soap sauce, literally
+
I spent my afternoon deciding my HCs for whether or not the CoD characters are munches. I do not regret it.
🔞👇🏻
Price – Not a munch (sorry). BUT knows exactly what he's doing, experience counts for a lot. Gets off on the reaction, not the act itself. A-tier eating fr
+
Once again I will always recommend getting totally obsessed with something you want to see more of as motivation for getting good at creative stuff.
Giving Soap a much needed 5 minute break 🙂↕️🙂↕️ #ghostsoap
poly 141 + bottom price
🧢🚬💀🧼
#PriceAppreciationWeek2025
#poly141
bringing this back for summer ☀️🏖️ #cod
I was just extremely validated while writing my 141 music HCs...got to Price, then remembered Barry did a Spotify playlist for him (taken down now, but I found some on TT)
and I was RIGHT. I am reading this as a sign that all my HCs are therefore correct, I will not be taking questions at this time
i will literally never get tired of them having their first kiss. in every fic, every piece of art, every universe, it is exquisite
Happy birthday Eli!!
Your writing is always so beautifully vivid. This feels like it could be very true to the characters we're given in canon, which I personally love. Dark, sure—but it's a tale as old as time and especially if you (general "you") ascribe to the OG Ghost backstory, makes perfect sense. Loved this!
Devil’s Poison
#ghostsoap #ghoap
Ahh I'm sorry I missed your comment! I don't come onto bsky enough, I gotta fix that lmao. Thank you, I'm so glad you loved 🥹🫶
Thank you so much Eli!! I'm still being driven by the SoapGaz brainworms, so I'll get it out my system soon 😂🫶
His last muddled thought before he blacks out is to wonder if Soap's mouth is as heavy with Gaz's favourite gin as his own is with single malt Scotch.
TBC
In the short time Gaz lies awake, staring at a ceiling in motion, he realises that he smells like an aftershave he's never worn but already knows; cardamom and cinnamon notes that remind him of his mum's kitchen.
Both pretend not to notice the extra few minutes the other takes in the bathroom, tap running on full blast the entire time.
Drunk, in denial, but not stupid.
The world does them a kindness, and they pass out with in 5 minutes—Soap goes first, snoring quietly.
It's funny; there's still no question as to the sleeping arrangements. Gaz makes it to his door first, and holds it open for Soap like it's muscle memory guiding him. Given the time, they both collapse straight onto the bed, before each remembering they desperately need a piss.
- things are unusually quiet, at which point Soap offers a share of the last fag in his pack and a tentative attempt at banter. Gaz takes both happily, and by the time they make it back to base, it almost feels like the end of a normal, successful night out.
Almost.
"Can't see for shite."
Gaz moves closer, reaches out to support a slumped shoulder to the wall.
"You gonna vom?"
Soap shakes his head, then winces regretfully.
"Just gotta sleep it off."
"C'mon then."
The walk back feels mercifully shorter than it is. Until about halfway, -
- wiping his spit-slicked mouth with his sleeve. Even then, it takes them both a second or two to break eye contact, expressions similarly dazed—and sheepish.
Soap breaks the silence.
"Y'solid?"
Gaz's reply takes a second.
"Yeah," he sniffs, puffing his chest out, "You?"
They both take stock of their situation as best they can, vision still swimming from the alcohol. Soap doesn't remember undoing Gaz's top shirt button to slide a hand in, but no—there it is.
Gaz's pupils constrict suddenly at the addition of light, and he steps away,-
- against the wall, body angled in such a way that /just/ slots Gaz's thigh in between his own. He's been rolling his hips against his partner's for the best part of half an hour, in a way he's only ever done when grinding his cock deep inside a hook-up, relishing in the ache.
- of sweat that comes from sharing hot breath for too long. Soap has red-purple haloes blooming under his jaw and across his jugular to match the ones on Gaz that someone else put there. A few of them have been remade, looking more like bruises than hickeys now.
Soap is pressed -
- of the room the pair had found themselves in eventually, hidden behind the booths. Much easier to deny the obvious in the dark and the occasional flash of a strobe light, than it is in stark illumination.
Both are panting gently as they pull away, faces covered in the sheen -