#asks wooo!!

[iwanttobepersephone]

I just found out that you take requests....

SO HERE'S ONE COMING YOUR WAY!

So, for like, forever, I've been wanting to see more of Gilan and Will being brothers.

I've seen a grand total of one image.

So, guess what I'm asking for?!

Please?????

Here's the thing with brotherly bonding, you're always gonna embarrass yourself at least once in front of a 16 year old. It's inevitable.

[technically-human]

It’s Dead Boy Detectives’s birthday!

It is????

I drew this as fast as I could-

[jesuistrestriste]

more art x milf reader! we all say in unison 🙇‍♀️

cw (18+) : needy!art donaldson, milf!reader, jealousy, masturbation, mention of alcohol/intoxication, pillow humping, mommy kink

it was usually hard to tell if she was flirting with him or just being her usual, saccharine-sweet self. whenever he and her would converse, a generally rare and heaven-sent occasion, he’d pay careful attention to her appearance and the little details she seemed to keep consistent each time; deep mauve lipstick perfectly slicked to her pout, freshly manicured nails, low rise jeans that hugged her curves in a way that made his stomach fizzle and flood with heat.

right after the most recent match on campus, he’d been granted another opportunity to have a full, lengthy discussion with her. he was absolutely dripping with salty sweat and panting like a dog, but she didn’t seem to mind too much at the time—batting her lashes and patting the seat next to her to invite him closer. he had wiped at his damp brow when they began to talk, pulling at his collar afterwards (burning up from the inside out), and then made sure that he was smiling at all of the right times as he listened to her speak. he tried his hardest to focus on the words leaving her mouth: tennis player.. thrilling match point.. congratulations.. you’re a star. the nervous laugh that clogged his throat when he registered her praising sentiment only caused his cheeks to flare a deeper shade of pink, and his fingers reflexively squeezed the metal edge of the bleachers underneath him. she’d smiled in return and only doubled-down on her compliments then. he just had to sit there and take it, fidgeting and folding his legs into different positions to try to hide the swell of his desire. it was a mess of an interaction, and art was well-aware how embarrassing it was for him to be acting like a teenage boy in front of such a sophisticated, charming, yet down-to-earth older woman, but he sincerely could not help himself. it was impossible to stay sane in her presence.

the universe gifted him a couple more similar interactions with her in the following month, and this only worked to solidify his (wildly inappropriate) obsession. he’d go to class and think about her bubbly laughter, he’d eat in the dining hall and forget to chew when thoughts of her mouth infected his mind, and he’d even started to lose himself in her image when he was playing tennis—which, for him, was incredibly damning. tennis was usually a healthy distraction, a coping mechanism, as it rarely allowed him to get lost in irrelevant ideas. his head was almost always in the game. so, when he was in the middle of a practice singles match with another stanford player one evening and missed a shot because a flash of her thighs rendered him boneless and swallowing a whimper, he knew he had a real problem.

masturbation didn’t even help.

not in the slightest.

he jerked off in the showers regularly, fisting his aching, angry cock with urgency as he pressed his forehead into the tile wall and moaned her name into the running water. he’d buck his hips to gain friction against his palm when he orgasmed, clapping his free hand over his mouth to stifle his repetitive mewling, and then would watch as his wasted load swirled down the drain.

it was all very routine. it usually was a temporary solution to the desperate and persistent yearning he felt during every agonizing minute of every torturous day. more broadly, it was just hard to ignore the reality that he’d never been so horny in his entire life—and it was all because of her, though he could never truly blame her beauty. his perverse nature was the real culprit.

the only time that he’d successfully been able to get off and get over her for longer than an hour happened when he came back to his dorm room after a party thrown by a handful of the other members of the tennis team. he’d gotten drunk on beer and cheap shots, egregiously so, but still found himself stumbling into his room with half of an erection bulging in the front of his pants. as he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his bottoms, he recalled what one of his teammates had said about her in the middle of the function—

“she’s so fucking hot, isn’t she? i mean, shit, i’d do anything to fuck her.”

art had never considered himself a violently jealous person, but in that very moment at the party something ugly had reared its head and he’d wanted nothing more than to put his fist to the guy’s teeth until his own knuckles cracked and bled. the guy had never even talked to her before, whereas it could be argued that art and her were almost friends. if anyone deserved to squeeze her plush tits and slide their unworthy dick into her perfect pussy, it was him. he ended up having to walk away from that cesspool of locker-room talk in order to avoid starting something that would surely land him in hot water with the university.

he took off his shirt and dropped it down onto his floor to meet his other garments as he staggered deeper into his cramped living space, crawling up to lay on his twin xl. his hand was immediately in his boxers in the next moment, fondling his warm flesh as it swelled hungrily in his touch, and he groaned and shuddered as he felt his head spin wildly. art then turned to flip himself gracelessly over onto his stomach, limbs moving uncoordinatedly with each brief shift of his weight. his jaw slacked and he gasped pathetically into his sheets as he humped his curled set of digits. though, when he blinked his eyes open blearily, his wasted brain formed a filthy idea..

“ohhh, fuck me,” he whimpered, shoving a pillow from the top of his mattress between his legs, his pelvis arching back only to rut forward and smush his clothed shaft into the cushion, “i’m all yours.. please, use m’cock.. don’t take anyone else’s, i wan’ be the only one—!”

he slurred through every lewd word that left his mouth. his abdomen curled and tensed as he began to feverishly hump the softness under him, his cock throbbing with incoming drizzles of pleasure. he clawed at his bedding like he was some sort of drooling, snarling, chained-up monstrosity. felt like one too with all of the arousal paralyzing his frame. every cell in his being was on fire with the debilitating need to be nestled in her sopping cunt, hugged by her slick walls and pleasing her any way that he was able. he imagined sucking on her nipples until she pulled his hair.. her soft tongue on the seam of his sack.. her fingers at the back of his throat, fluttering and giving him something to worship as he pounded up into her. his thrusts quickened to sync with the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage. he was so close that he almost felt sick with it all.

art's noises raised in pitch and volume with every second; everything was boiling over in record time.

“oh no—“ he drunkenly choked and moaned, teetering on the edge, “mommy, i’m gonna come inside you—i’m, i’m so—it feels s’good, i can’t hol’ it anymore—please don’t b’mad, i really like y—HAAH—“

he pushed himself up onto his palms and let out a strangled, wet cry as he suddenly felt the world close in on him. head tipped back, toes curled, muscles flexed. white flashes erupted behind his low lids, something hot gushing copiously from his tip and into his underwear.. over and over and over and over again. a final curse flew from his lips as his climax wrapped its arms around his body and flooded him with the last bits of boiling gratification—so much so that it was almost numbing. his hips moved jerkily through the lingering sensations; they snapped downward several times until the spilling of fluids ceased and was only replaced by the feeling of all-consuming oversensitivity. art quaked from his head down to his toes, squirming and hiccuping against the stimulation that only he could save himself from.

when he finally collapsed into a panting heap, the fantasy of her core wringing him dry starting to fade out, he'd sucked at his bottom lip and let out the tiniest of whines.

“mommy.. mommy, mommy, mommy..”

he whimpered it until he fell asleep.

tags : @voidsuites @asheepinfrance @fawnnpaws @artstennisracket @andyrambles @imperishablereverie @ghostgirl-22 @lexiiscorect @cha11engers @patricksbf @newrochellechallenger2019 @pittsick @blastzachilles @oncefaist

[wombywoo]

do you have any ghostsoap favorite fics, perhaps?

boy do I....

I should preface this by saying that I'm pretty...particular with what types of fics I enjoy reading (I only like certain character interpretations/tropes/writing styles, etc) so bear with me...

These are all mostly canon-compliant, non-AUs, ones that I regard highly~

Seasons--by StinglessWasp: This is pretty much my go-to fic rec for anyone into CoD and ghostsoap in general. It showcases everything I love about these characters, in a setting that feels as authentic to the games as possible, while also exploring the depth and sincerity hidden under the surface. So well-written and paced--the dialogue and military references all contribute to that 'feels like a mission out of the game' experience. Plus, I just love this interpretation of our boys--the humor, the inner struggles, the intimacy--Wasp 100% *gets* these characters and it's a joy to read <3

Except You, You Can Stay--by Iravaid: While this one isn't *technically* ghostsoap until the last chapter, in my opinion, it's required reading for anyone who gives a shit about Simon Riley. This is *the* character study--an intimate dissection of Ghost's past that seems so realistic and grounded, you forget how ludicrous those comics really are. Ira takes such care in treating these heavy topics with delicacy and effectiveness. Each chapter has you going 'oh wow, this is even better than the last', but as a whole--it's a stunning, fleshed-out glimpse into Simon as the character he was always meant to be. And the final chapter which eases you into his relationship with Johnny is so authentic and sweet, it just makes perfect sense that they should be together, and that this poor poor man deserves some goddamn love <3

bleeding in the house of god--by revolvermonkcelot: This is a really great 'missing scene' fic, a perfect opportunity to explore the in-between moments that the game so carelessly chooses to gloss over. I can't praise Monk's writing enough--it's slick and crisp and very tasty; the imagery just jumps off the page and you can practically feel the sweat. Plus, the dialogue exchanges between our two boys are so well-timed and in-character--love all the slang and British references~ This whole fic reads like an addition to their mission flirting, and I'm all for it! You can truly tell this author has such deep understanding and experience with this franchise (winkwinkwink, this is a joke) Read it--it's good!

The Dead are all Living--by Kabbal: This fic blew me away when I first read it. It's such a unique take on the retirement trope, I just adore this interpretation of Simon as an aging recluse while he builds his home. I tend to lean towards more subtle, grounded characterizations of Mr Riley, and this really fits the bill. All of these glimpses and fragments into his post-military life contribute to an overarching love story; the scenes with Johnny are so poignant, it's like you're pining alongside them both. I love how not-perfect they are; flawed and difficult and real. There are some moments and lines that just....struck something in me so deeply. I'm sure I'll still be thinking about it for a long long time <3

Portrait of Taction--by a_platypus: Another Simon-centric fic that I absolutely love. The character voice in this is off the charts, I can hear him so vividly in all of his inner dialogue and stunted attempts at conversation. Simon is so endearingly dense in this fic, you're just waiting for him to finally get his act together, but the clumsy, oblivious steps he takes in his relationship with Soap are truly a treat to read. I love this version of Johnny too--confident and considerate, but still hopelessly crushing on his superior. It's comedic, well-written, and the paragraphs describing Soap's journal give some of the best insights into his character I've seen <3

come on, haunt me--by flyby2: This was a really good long fic that I took my time savoring. What could have been a typical 'on leave' fic instead took time to develop a unique spin on the backstories as well as throwing our boys into some wholesome encounters. Both Soap and Ghost felt very true to character, and I appreciate the exploration of PTSD and the subsequent struggles that come along with...all that. There was a really nice balance in having their romance spread across the chapters, and I can promise a very sweet, happy conclusion <3

in the mess of it all--by flowersferns: A lovely one-shot that exhibits some of my favorite aspects of these two characters. I'm a sucker for 'one of them is hurt, the other is freaking out, they are both idiots in love, etc'. There are some really great dialogue and character moments in this, plus the overall prose hits hard. Love this take on their romance--the mutual trust, the familiarity of their bond. And just the general theme of impermanence--the inevitability of what this relationship means for them--two soldiers, willing and ready to sacrifice their lives at a moment's notice, still clinging to each other because...god...that's all they have---big fan of this :'D <3

Lapsus--by Lisbetadair: Another really great one-shot and 'missing scene' fic. The authenticity in the writing is spot-on--it's like you can feel Soap's pain right off the bat. I love how smoothly the banter flows between the two, and the attention to detail and references all help lend to that 'hardened military man' exterior. Ghost smelling like flowers because of a face wipe is such a delightful addition, plus the scene where Soap is, ah, donald-ducking it in just a t-shirt with his jewels out is such a funny mental image, I still think of it fondly from time to time. It's funny, it's surprisingly cute, it's very in-character. Stick around for some awkward but adorable cuddles <3

I'm sure I have more to recommend, but these are the ones I can personally endorse for now~

[splinterclan]

When you said calm before the storm you weren’t lying ): and “currently alive” has me WORRIED … hang in there Myrtle!!!

If it’s in character for one of the cats to ask them, what do Cedar’s kits think about their new cousins? 0:

They're mostly just excited about having extra playmates currently!

doing as well as she can be ;n;

[miru667]

A preview of my piece for @hmosexymanzine !! Coming out soon! ✨

[aveloka-draws]

Twitter revealed to me it's your birthday 👀

Happy birthday 🎉🎂 ☺️

aww thank you so much!

[kociamieta]

angel who thinks its doing such a good job pretending to be a dog and its blind owner who doesnt know their service dog is glowing with the power of a thousand suns

YEAHHHH!!!! they’d still feel the unusually high temperature of this thing but who doesn’t love a free heater really

[slate021]

FINISHED BOARDING PART 2 🔥🔥

@visinox @trashiiplant

[tryagainstarlight]

Enter The Kid

💫: Back at the clock tower...

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day thirty one

prompt: halloween pairing: lando/oscar word count: 1200w

“Lando,” Oscar says, when he makes his way into the living room to drop his work bag next to the couch. “Why is my baby dressed as a pumpkin?”

Becca is in her little baby playpen banging a few blocks together, dressed in a felt pumpkin suit. There’s even a little hat with a stalk on top perched on her little blond curls. “Da,” she says, when she spots Oscar.

“Hi love,” Oscar says, picking her up and snuggling her closing, earning him another, more decisive “Da!”

“Oscar!” Lando says, appearing from the kitchen. “I can explain.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, putting his daughter back down. “Can you?”

Lando bites at his lip. He has a spatula in hand, which means he’s attempting to cook dinner again, which means Oscar needs to make this as short as possible so he can make his way into the kitchen and salvage whatever is going on there.

“It’s Halloween?” Lando eventually settles on. “And like. I don’t. I’m not overstepping, or like, I don’t want to overstep, but I just thought. It’s her first you know. I think she should go out trick or treating.”

“She’s fourteen months,” Oscar states, but he’s mostly amused.

“Yeah? So? It’s Halloween, Oscar,” Lando says. Something in the kitchen beeps, and Lando quietly curses under his breath, making his way in there. Oscar throws one last look to Becca, who’s gone back to banging blocks together, and follows Lando into the kitchen.

“Maybe it’s time to revoke your babysitting privileges,” Oscar says, leaning against the doorway and watching Lando flit through the kitchen. There’s a pasta sauce bubbling away in a pot, next to one filled with pasta. It doesn’t seem disastrous yet, so Oscar’s happy to lean back and watch.

“Oh, please,” Lando says. “You would die without you convenient next door neighbor who works from home and loves your kid and is therefor willing to watch her whenever you need someone.”

Unfortunately, this is true. For reasons other than just the convenience, too. Like the way Lando smiles at him sometimes. Or the way Lando’s eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Embarrassing stuff like that.

“You really want to go trick or treating with her?” Oscar asks.

“We are going trick or treating with her,” Lando says, grinning at Oscar, clearly feeling like he’s won something here. “I have matching outfits.”

The matching outfits, thankfully, are just headbands with little pumpkins on bouncy springs. Oscar is pretty sure he looks ridiculous, especially next to Lando, who somehow makes the damned things look cute.

There really is no going back now, so after they finish their pasta, they put Becca’s coat on under her little pumpkin suit, don their stupid little headbands, and head to their first house.

Which is when things get kind of. Weird.

“Oh, your family is so cute,” The first lady says, as she deposits a few pieces of candy in the little bag Lando is holding. “Reminds me of my own daughter and her husband. Precious. Have a good night.”

“Uh,” Lando says, but she’s already closing the door.

Oscar adjusts Becca on his hip, mostly so he kind hide the blush on his face. “On to the next one?” He says quickly, mostly hoping that means Lando won’t bring it up.

“Yeah,” Lando says, still staring at the now closed door. “Yeah, next one.”

But at the next one, roughly the same thing happens. And the Next one. And the next one.

Oscar is coping with this wonderfully, mostly by pretending none of this is happening and no one is actually confusing them for some kind of cute young family rather than for what they are, which is two totally platonic neighbors who are friends who are trick or treating with one of the neighbors kids.

It’s going swimmingly, if he says so himself, even though is heart aches at the thought. Becca, entire unaware, babbles happily in his arms and tries to grab at the pumpkins on his headband.

Lando is quiet, too, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t correct anyone and that’s. Something, right? Nothing, for sure. But.

But.

Except then he does say something, when an young mom smiles at them and says, “Oh, what an adorable little family you have. My kid is her age, too. It’s the best, isn’t it?”

“We aren’t-“ Lando blurts, a little too loud, making Becca startle a little as she looks at him with wide eyes. “A family. I’m just. We’re not. Together. That’s his kid. She’s not. She’s not mine.”

Oscar doubts that. Becca thinks the sun shines out of Lando’s ass on most days. She’s just as much Lando’s as she is Oscar’s, but that’s. That’s dangerous territory, he thinks.

“Oh,” the woman says, a little taken aback. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lando says, smiles tiredly. It must’ve been bothering him more than Oscar thought. Oscar tries not to be too hurt about that. “Have a good night,” he says, and stalks off the porch.

“You too?” The lady says, but Lando’s already gone. Oscar smiles awkwardly at her, and then follows Lando as quickly as he can with Becca in his arms.

“Hey,” he says, when he catches up.

“Hey,” Lando says, not looking at him, setting a pretty brutal pace. “Let’s go back to the apartments, yeah?”

“Okay,” Oscar says, noting how he says apartments, plural. Nothing how he doesn’t say home.

They walk in silence, for a bit, Becca dozing off on Oscar’s shoulder, before Lanod finally speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what,” Oscar says, confused. He doesn’t think Lando has anything to apologize for. If he’s uncomfortable being linked to Oscar as a husband, that’s. I mean. He’s allowed to feel those feelings, even if they hurt.

“I just. I’ve been inserting myself in Becca’s life, in your life, and this should have been a cute little milestone, her first Halloween, and instead you spend the whole time listening to people thinking we’re like, what. Together?” Lando is still not looking at him, aggressively biting at his lip.

Oscar takes a moment, unpacks everything Lando’s just said, tries to think of the right thing to say. Eventually he settles on. “We wouldn’t have had Becca’s first Halloween if not for you.”

When Lando finally turns to look at him, if only to send him a confused look, Oscar continues. “You got her the outfit. You got the headbands. I was just going to spend the night inside giving candy away to kids, but you made it special. So you’re not inserting yourself. If anything, I think you’re making her life much, much better.” And then, because he feels like it’s important Lando knows, even though it will probably not lead anywhere, “Also I don’t mind. When people think we’re together.”

“Oh,” Lando says. “You don’t? I mean. I don’t, either.” They’ve stopped, in the middle of the walkway, staring at each other over Becca’s head.

“Good? That’s. That’s good,” Oscar says, a little unsure all of a sudden. If this means what he thinks it means…

“Oh fudge it,” Lando says, and leans forward, softly presses his lips to Oscar’s. It’s a little awkward, with Becca still snoozing happily between them, but it’s the most perfect kiss Oscar’s ever gotten. When Lando pulls away, he’s smiling, a smile Oscar is sure is mirrored on his own face. “Let’s go home, yeah?” He says.

“Home,” Lando says, nods. Shakes his head like he can’t quite believe it.

They can’t hold hands, because Oscar’s are still occupied, but Lando’s hand finds a place at the small of his back, and that’s just as magical, Oscar thinks, as they slowly start making their way home.

[son-ofthe-father]

Today was the day of visiting the priest. Sigma didn't like doing that. He thought that the priest was scary, and so was his house. He heard that the priest had a son, but he'd never seen him before.

Sigma waited patiently, standing next to his father, as the other knocked on the door.

- @a-different-kind-of-angel

The person who answered was a little taller than Sigma, and looked a bit on the slimmer side. He had pale skin, and his hand was trembling on the doorknob.

"Ah, you must be someone Father knows.. Come on in, I'll have supper made soon." He said quietly, stepping aside to let Sigma and his father in.

"Father is currently at work, aren't you two supposed to be there as well?"

[sunny1927]

Hey Sunny I've got an idea for a request. How about Donald and Daisy if you're still doing them?

(Please ignore the fact I am now only doing this now- I’m terribly sorry for the late ask 😖💔)

I heart them- the couples ever hehe 🩷💙

(Do ignore the fact they don’t looks their best cause I haven’t drawn them in forever-)

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

another post it note sketch

[buwheal]

Damn, Spam, did the cake taste that bad? - bad joke. Sorry you're havin' a rough day. We're here if you need to talk, or if you just need a distraction.

[nekrosmos]

Tell me your silliest takes on Nikolai and Price? <3 Or any headcanons you have of either of them, really.

Silly NikPrice, I can do :3c

I think Nik is a hugger even in his sleep and sometimes Price wakes up in the middle of the night because he has to piss and can't escape those massive bear arms (and Nik would try to pull him closer even as he's sleeping) and it's a silent battle that ensues, often ending in Price giving up.

When Price is being particularly grumpy or strict for some reason, Gaz likes to act mysterious and say "I know a way to calm him down" to Soap and Ghost. He never lies, however, as all it takes is for him to send a text to Nik, and for Nik to send a picture of himself in various states of undress to Price. The face John makes when he glances at his phone, only for his ears to turn all red as he fumbles an excuse that he has to go check something in his office, is something the 141 never gets tired of.

Most of the time, Nik makes the big gestures. That man is a romantic and now that he finally has John, he's gonna make him feel like he's the most beautiful man in the world. However, sometimes Price surprises him too. The smile on Nikolai's face when John gets him with something he didn't expect is worth everything to John. The love making that follows is out of this world, too.

Nik loooooooves to find ways to sneakily touch Price when he really shouldn't be doing that. Maybe they're sitting around a table negotiating important intel with shady people from Nik's side when Price suddenly feels Nik's boots against his crotch and sees him smirks at him from across the table. Asshole. Or maybe the two are undercover in a van, eying an area at night for someone they need to crab, Price's eyes glued to his binoculars when Nik's hand suddenly sneaks past his belt and boxers and starts teasing him. Even worse, the person they were waiting to retrieve finally shows up and Price has to grab a guy while almost fully hard and unsatisfied. Thanks, Nik.

Sometimes they like to slow dance together. Just the two of them, in Price's house or his quarters, whatever. They put some quiet music and just start doing it naturally. It's gentle, it's quiet, it's just them and they can finally have a moment to breath and enjoy each other's embrace. John never feels more at peace than when in Nik's arms, and Nik is happy to oblige, big hands stroking through Price's hair and staring into his blue eyes. Sometimes one of them ends up saying a very, very bad joke, and they start laughing, almost uncontrollably, more out of exhaustion than anything, and they end up falling on a nearby couch or bed and they laugh and laugh together like nothing else in this world matters but them.

Nik watching Price struggle to order food in Russian while they're in a russian speaking country. He could help him, but it's just so damn adorable to watch him fumble through his words and see John's panicked glance turn back to him when he failed to order coffee for the third time in a row. John's revenge is to speak in slang he damn well knows Nik won't understand for the rest of the day.

Every time John is cold in bed, snuggling close to Nik, it reminds him of that time when they were way, way younger and got sent off somewhere in Eastern Europe in the middle of winter, and the two had to bunker down in a shitty hotel, in a shitty bedroom that (gasp) had only one shitty bed and whose heater was broken. It had been a little bit awkward at the time, and Nik had offered to sleep on the floor, which John had refused, offering it in return, only for Nik to also shut him down. Eventually, the two had climbed into bed, backs turned to one another, until John began to shiver uncontrollably, the thin blanket not helping with the freezing temperatures. Quietly, Nik had turned around and gently wrapped his arms around John. None of them said anything, no words were exchanged, and Price quickly stopped shivering. There were no mention of this happening the day after, or the day after, not until years later when the two began their relationship and Nik admitted it had been extremely difficult to stop himself from kissing the back of Price's neck that night, or let his hands wander. Price admitted the same, and the two had laughed it off. There had been plenty of opportunities to do just that since then.