#the life and times of riley

[elderyautjavegeta]

All I'm saying is it is simply homophobic that I have to work on Gorillaz D-Day but I DO have Something Wicked chapter 9 finished and ready to post! I just have to get through my morning meeting and post my reports. 🫠🫠🫠

PATIENCE MY LOVES!!! This chapter is spicy. 😎😎

[elderyautjavegeta]

My mobile home was built in 1984. I have lived here for 3 years and have seen shit I never expected. My bedroom ceiling fan is wired to a light switch so I can't turn it off unless I pull the chain. A pipe sprung a leak behind my guest bedroom wall and when we cut open the wall to repair it, we found that this pipe was apparently broken during install because THERE WAS A PIECE OF ANCIENT DUCT TAPE WRAPPED AROUND THE HOLE ALREADY. FROM 1984. Light switches turn on things they shouldn't like outlets on the outside of the house on the opposite end, and sometimes they don't do anything at all. The outlet on the front of my house doesn't work, and no matter how many times my dad has tried to figure it out, as adept in electrical shit as he is, he cannot get it to work. There's a light switch in my living room that powers my ENTIRE Florida room. Accidentally turning that off kills everything in that room.

Mark the electrician has been here for five minutes and he’s already said “well that’s…weird” twice from the other room and frankly I’m afraid to ask.

[aftg4rd]

🧼: “D’ya think I cuid take my gear off first, Si?”

💀: “Negative.”

[gazspookiebear]

Ugh I'm so sleepy. Eepy man. Enjoy this shit I cooked up in ten minutes.

You wake up, only to find yourself just as tired as you were a few hours ago. Your eyelids are heavy, and you're fighting back sleep with every blink. Exhaustion wracking your body with every movement.

You feel Simon groan and sit up next to you.

"Mmm... five more minutes?" You mumble sleepily, shivering at the sudden lack of warmth.

"'M sorry love, we've gotta get up"

"Please? I'm so tired..." You whine quietly

"Negative," he says, chuckling at your miserable pout.

"Please, Si?" You say it so sweetly. The nickname you rarely used. His weakness.

A moment passes before you finally hear a response.

"Fine."

You grin, knowing that you've won. He lays back down and wraps his arm around you, pulling your back to his chest. You close your eyes and sleep quickly overtakes you.

Of course, it was never just 'five more minutes'. Simon called your work shortly after and informed them that you wouldn't be coming in today. However that works.

[temeyes]

biker dad ghost? yes.

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[furiosophie]

it's something sinister to love without regard for dear tomorrow

[leathfaic]

My favourite hot take is that Simon adapts way better to being a civilian than Johnny does.

Johnny went and left for the army the second he could do so, relentlessly pushed his career and is, most likely, rarely not on base unless he's been told to fuck off or move his arse home (by either his superiors or family).

Simon on the other hand finished school and then took up an apprenticeship before joining the army. Even then he came home, took prolonged leave to help his family out. He spent way more time just living that reality. And even post Roba he was at home for a while before everything went to hell. He might not take a lot of leave since, because he has nothing to come home to, but he still knows to adjust to it.

If they take leave together Ghost settles remarkably well, still keeping an eye open but he's an adult who had time outside the forces to properly adjust to life.

Soap struggles. He gets by with his charm and bright blue eyes, and that's a good thing because he's too explosive, too intense for most normal social interactions.

He's caught somewhere between the 18 year old boy and the hardened SAS soldier and never spent enough time away to really grow into just John MacTavish. Not Sergeant, not Soap, not the FNG. Just him as a person outside of the military.

He navigates this part of his life like its a minefield. Making it through but boy oh boy, it's not looking graceful.

Ghost helps him mellow out in that regard, pointing out the messy weird mechanics of normal civilan life to him. Teaches him to enjoy that and not let his job ruin him. Simon who knows how quickly it can all fall apart can't help to see the beauty in the peace most people get to experience. He'll be damned if he can't share that beauty Johnny. Even if it's always just for a little while.

And because it's Ghost, who never steered him wrong Soap let's himself be led. Allows himself experiences outside of work and his family. And while he might not be eager to admit it, it makes him a better person.

And years down the line when they both made it out, last mission just one too many that was too close for comfort, all of that helps John MacTavish to adjust. Sure he mourns his life in the military, someone like him is bound to, but he's not too worried. He knows how to get by now. And even the days where he feels very out of his depth, he can approach with ease. Because he still has Simon at his side to show him the way forward.

[milkydough]

Alex likes Farah

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ of ghosts & coincidences ( part ii. )

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- reader and simon have a two year old daughter. indirect sequel of sorts (*_ _)人 please read the first part before reading this one! ・・・ pt i.

simon riley has never viewed anyone as competition. not a single soul. no reason to, not even when he first enlisted and was just a rookie. never found the need to prove himself to others within the same rank, quite frankly, and with his dedication and skill, he knew there was no need for concern; he'd move up and on eventually-- and that, he did.

so he's not going to say there's room for concern now, because there's not-- he doesn't care what you say, and he especially does not care for the way you purse your lips tightly in frail attempt to hold back a smile.

no, there is no competition. how could there be competition in the presence of his home? his home, shared with you and your little two year old munchkin... and that damned plushie. he still doesn't have the faintest clue why there was halloween decor out on display during the summer or why she was so infatuated with a ghost plush upon first sight. it's even worse when she names him "ghostie." hell on earth, she doesn't even know about his other alias -- and she won't, not ever.

no, he doesn't understand, doesn't care if it's a freak coincidence, he will question it. silently. mostly. and sometimes at 3 in the morning when you're half asleep in his arms.

ghostie, simon says, is not competition. he does not care about that thing-- kind of. so he says. you've pointed out that he does, only to be met with a disgruntled admittance of if my baby cares, then so do i, and promptly left it at that.

however, you've both definitely noticed that wherever your daughter goes, ghostie goes-- kind of a package deal at this point. it's been doing wonders for your sleep schedule, you'll admit, because even when she wakes up scared, she's comforted by the plushie, which means no more late nights where you're both woken up by a crying toddler. no more late nights soothing your daughter and holding her until she falls asleep.

-- which is an issue. for him. simon doesn't give a damn about his sleep schedule-- he's gone god knows how long without sleeping due to his military career, anyway. if he's gonna stay up, it's gonna be for his family.

so yes, simon is bothered. very much so. and you get it, you really do. but as time passes, you notice how the little one always clings onto the plushie, her curious gaze shifting between it and her dad. it's subtle, and sometimes he catches it, too, but he's more occupied brooding at the preemptive loss of his daughter ( his... indirect words, not yours ) to even think much about it.

"hey, baby?" you ask one day, crouching before the two year old, a faint smile on your lips as you fix her hair. "can i ask you something about ghostie?"

she stares at you with those big brown eyes-- just like his, you'll always think, and nods.

"--what makes him so special, baby?"

simon watches from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. he watches, waits, meets your gaze for a moment before it returns to your daughter. she stares at the plush in her arms, newly cleaned and warm from the laundry ( and please, don't get simon started on how tightly she squeezed his hand when she learned that washers, do in fact, spin, and that meant ghostie would be dizzy from his "bath". oh, the horrors ).

"um, because--" she tries to find the right words, looking at her dad for guidance, receiving an encouraging nod in response, "he reminds me of papa."

you both pause in surprise as she stares at you both, brows furrowed ever so slightly as her arms tighten around the plush.

"...yeah?" the faint curl of your lips only seems to grow-- a familiar sight to her, one that's always been reassuring. you smooth over her hair before adjusting the hair clip. "how does he remind you of papa, honey?"

another glance at simon from the little one, and yet another silent nod of encouragement.

"...'cause ghostie is really big and strong, and he, um, protects me just like papa does."

silence. your gaze meets your husband's-- notes the kindness in his eyes as he steps closer, crouching before her, too. he pats her head, mindful to not mess up your efforts to fix her hair.

"...does ghostie help when i'm not home, princess?"

she nods, holding it a little closer.

...ah. you had a feeling. simon isn't deployed as often ever since she was born -- you're not sure how-- whether it's on behalf of price, simon's personal request, or just by chance-- you don't really care; you won't question it. but in the times he is gone, it's always hard for everyone. she gets a little clingier, a little quieter, a little more easily distressed, asks for her dad more frequently during those times.

you stay silent, just watching as simon lets out a quiet sigh before he picks her up, pressing a thousand kisses to her head, her temple, her forehead, her nose-- and while your hearts may feel a little heavier, the sound of her laughter fills the room, brings a quiet ease to the aches in your chests.

( no, simon later tells you, he does not dislike ghostie anymore. he supposes that little cute plushie does have some place in the home you share.

that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, holds you close. he's too deep in thought to consider sleeping, and you know this.

"...'ought to talk to price soon." he murmurs, thumb absentmindedly tracing circles onto your skin. "can't have that thing replacing me."

you hum softly in acknowledgement, lips meeting his in quiet understanding. "no room for competition, si?" you offer a tired smile as he pulls the blanket over your bodies.

when he looks at you, all he can see is adoration and understanding. he doesn't think he'll ever get over it. he kisses you once, twice, three times-- a goodnight kiss, a thank you kiss, and an i love you kiss.

"none at all, dove." )

[s0fter-sin]

soap and ghost, after months of flirting, of having each other’s backs and saving each other’s lives, of knowing the other better than they know themselves, finally getting together

ghost letting himself free fall onto the bed, soap following, always following his lead. they barely pull apart enough to get their shirts over their heads, hands running over muscles and scars and holding close

soap kisses every new scar that’s revealed to him, from the thick keloid divot over his ribs from some kind of puncture to the innumerable slashes and stitch wounds holding his torso together until he’s mouthing over his collarbones; the tips of his fingers lightly caressing the edges of his mask

ghost who’s been so quiet, so overwhelmed by soap’s touch that all he can do is sink into him, panting gasping breaths, finally pushes out, “don’t ask me. please…”

soap freezes, mouth hovering over his skin. “ghost…?”

ghost’s face is tilted away, eyes held so tightly shut they tremor while the rest of his body stays lax beneath his. desperate. resigned. “please don’t ask me, johnny.”

soap lets his hand fall from the mask, coming to run soothing circles over his clothed hip. “why?”

“because i’ll say yes,” he confesses and it’s great and terrible; a warning and a relinquishment laid at soap’s feet. “i’ll always say yes to you.”

for a long moment, there’s nothing but their shared breaths, nothing but their hearts beating for the other. until soap finally leans down to press a kiss to the corner of his hidden mouth; his lips meeting faint raised scar tissue he might never see

“i’ll never ask.”

ghost’s eyes drift open and they catch on soap’s; on a sea of promise and fierce protection

“i swear… i’ll never ask, ghost.”

[elderyautjavegeta]

Me as a man who has grown his nails out and didn't think about how it would impact my Bass playing realizing why Murdoc went from finger picking to using a plastic pick:

[yi3248]

ive already lived my life without you (is it okay to want you?)

the ghoap animatic that has occasionally haunted my files is finally done!!! (albeit with choppy timing lmao)

[3amfanfiction]

Johnny's Halloween Costume

Johnny is proud of his Halloween costume. It seems like Ghost likes it too. cw: none. 2.2k, Ghoap smut

Credit for this story is owed to @pricegouge for fostering his ask with me. Now it’s time to give it back. Thanks for always being willing to help my brain worms wiggle! <33

"I want to be slutty for Halloween but nothing sounds good," Johnny huffs as he slams back onto Kyle's bed, ignoring the hey! as he disrupts a clean pile of clothes.

Kyle pulls the clothes out from under him to re-stack while grumbling, "Just be yourself, how much sluttier can you get?"

Freeing the last of the items he turns to sit at the desk, looking at Johnny in exasperation as he recounts all of the options he's thought about and discarded.

"—bunny but everyone has done that. Same with a gladiator," he whines while staring at the ceiling, pouting. "It needs to be something good, something that will drop jaws."

Kyle rolls his eyes at Johnny's dramatics, "Be a hoochie daddy or something, I don't know. Just do it in your own room!" He blinks in surprise when Johnny shoots up to face him, a manic grin across his face. Nothing good ever came from this smile. it's Johnny's 'This is going to go badly but it'll be so much fun in the process' smile.

Kyle thought up the name himself.

"You're a genius, Gaz! I knew I came to the right person," Johnny beams at him, a toothy grin showing all the way to the molars. He bounces up, ignoring the deep sigh as he knocks the clothes over again and strides for the door, eager to get started now that he had a plan.

\\\

The spoon clinks against ceramic as Ghost stirs his tea in the small rec room, having fled from the festivities in the bigger hall after doing his mandatory 5 minute drop in.

He wouldn't have even done that much if the order didn't come straight from Price, I don't care if they're a bunch of numpties. Show up, foster camaraderie for a handful of minutes then you're free.

A handful of minutes. As far as Ghost is concerned that meant five. Three hundred seconds of torture before he was allowed to leave. He would do it but it certainly didn't mean he would like it.

He had escaped the second the hand ticked over and he had no intention of going back. He is going to drink his tea and then go to bed—leave all the idiots to get into trouble by themselves.

The door to the rec room burst open and Ghost is greeted with his own personal headache.

"LT! What are ye doin' hidin' away in here?"

"What are you wearing?" Simon ignores his question, dumbfounded at what he is seeing. Johnny prances into the room in an outfit which showed more skin than it covered.

His orange shorts rest high on his hips, the crotch obscenely tight causing his bulge to be highlighted by the taut fabric. The shorts end after a few brief inches showing miles of thickly muscled thighs covered in dark hair which end in combat boots. On his upper half he is wearing half a shirt, the fabric stopping right below his chest, showcasing his thickly muscled torso covered in a healthy layer of fat and coarse hair. Johnny beams as he looks at Ghost with a lightly stubbled face, his mohawk looking freshly trimmed.

"I've been lookin' everywhere for ye," he exclaims excitedly, hurrying over to crowd Ghost's space. "Well?" He spreads his arms, causing the shirt to strain against his biceps and wide shoulders. Ghost is pretty sure he hears a stitch pop, "What do ye think? I'm a Hooters boy!"

Ghost doesn't say anything, he can't say anything with his tongue feeling like it's two sizes too big in his mouth. If he were any less disciplined he would be swallowing in need right now. Thankfully, Johnny has no issue carrying the conversation.

"Ye should've seen the look on everyone's faces when I walked in. Looked like big mouthed bobble heads, the lot of them. It's like they'd never seen a man as beautiful as me before," he preens, striking a pose for the full affect of the outfit.

Ghost finds his breath shuddering on the exhale.

"You look like a whore, that's why they were staring at you," he finally managers with a deep rumble, staring at where the tight waist makes a gentle pooch right above it. He drags his eyes away to meet Johnny's gaze, thankful for the mask to help keep his expression level.

Johnny only laughs, seemingly pleased at being called a whore by his commanding officer. "Yer only sayin' that because ye want in my pants," he taunts, spinning around to show his ass off to Ghost before completing his spin.

Ghost abruptly makes a decision. Walking over he grips Johnny firmly by the nape of his neck, amused as Johnny instantly goes still and silent, eyes darkening at the pressure. "Let's go, pup. You're gonna get what you're begging for."

"What I—" Johnny chokes, trying to get words out, "LT, I was only joking—"

But Ghost doesn't listen, just turns them both to begin heading down the hall towards the barracks.

\\\

Pushing Johnny through the door first, Ghost directs him towards the bed, hand still placed firmly on the back of his neck, rough callouses scratching the thin skin. He might have unwittingly found Johnny's sweet spot because the sergeant was unusually quiet the whole walk.

He watches as Johnny sits down carefully, enjoying the uncertain hesitation of his movements. It was rare to see the younger man anything but cocky and self assured so this is a treat Ghost has every intention of savoring.

Moving over to the bed he pushes Johnny backwards, watching him collapse onto the bedding with slightly too fast breaths. Crawling over him with ease, he lifts his mask to right below his nose, rolling the fabric until it holds itself up. With no other warning he dives in for a kiss, immediately deepening it and pressing firmly into Johnny's mouth.

The other man moans at the first stroke of his tongue, slick and warm, before reaching up to grasp onto him tightly and kissing back with equal fervor.

Ghost took his time mapping out Johnny's mouth—tracing his teeth, stroking his tongue, tickling the sensitive gums, feeling the soft cheeks. He knows the sergeant is tough—he'd covered Ghost's ass enough times for that to be fact. But damn if he doesn't feel particularly soft in this moment. Ghost isn't sure if he wants to tuck Johnny up inside of himself where he could be kept, secure and warm, or if he wants to live inside Johnny's skin, always present, able to venerate this golden boy who is as warm as the sun.

Coaxing Johnny's tongue into his mouth is the work of moments. He's unable to help his filthy grind at the resulting vulgar groan when he begins suckling on it like a teat.

"Fuck, but you're a needy boy, aren't you?" Simon rasps as he pulls away slightly, panting into the space between their lips. He's pleased at the rapid agreement from the man below him, eager to continue. "I might just have to keep you. Tie you up to my bed, stuff a fake cock down your throat so you can't yell for help. Keep you wet and spread for me so I can slide right in after a day of dealing with idiots."

The choked, needy moan Johnny lets out as his eyes roll back is heaven. Ghost feels a wave of lust flood is veins and he knows right then and there he won't be letting this man go.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" he continues, slowly rocking into Johnny. Short, soft, barely there thrusts that did more to tease than to relieve. "Being my little fuck pet to use as I see fit. Wouldn't need to worry that pretty little head about anything more than when your next orgasm will be."

Johnny shudders in arousal, little panting pleases dripping from his tongue. His eyes wide and soft.

Ghost smiles meanly, snaking a hand under his shirt to pinch at his nipples just because he can. Catching the resultant yelp in his mouth, he presses firmly against him, grinding his hard cock against Johnny's through layers of fabric, enjoying the dry rasp.

Pulling away from Johnny's chest once his nipples are swollen and puffy, he laughs mockingly as he notices the wet spot growing on Johnny's pants.

"Looks like someone's an eager little slut."

Scooting back to sit between his spread thighs, Ghost pulls down Johnny's shorts just enough to expose his cock and balls, cradling them with the bunched fabric. Johnny's cock slaps his stomach as it's freed with a meaty thwack, drooling thick drops of sticky precum onto his abdomen. Ghost reaches down to meanly pinch the ruddy tip, smiling at the resulting yelp before moving further down to play with his balls, rolling them in his palm and giving a firm squeeze intermittently.

"Look at this tiny cocklet. Cute little thing isn't it?" He says antagonistically, laughing callously as Johnny immediately flushes and begins arguing.

" 'S nae little! What are ye on about? Yer probably the one that's little. Go on then, let's have a look. Probably a wee pecker you have in there," he gestures at Ghost's pants, ignoring the tenting which made it clear there wasn't a wee anything about Ghost.

Smirking, Ghost pulls back to shuck his pants, sliding them halfway down his thighs and letting his cock springs out, pointing downward with the weight of itself. He can practically hear the swallow the Scotsman lets out in response.

"Well," Johnny croaks, flushing scarlet red, "that's why you think it's small, isn't it?Ye've got a fuckin' horse cock 'tween yer legs!" He gathers himself valiantly, "donnae mean mine is small, now ye take that back."

Still smiling meanly Ghost responds with a flat, bored, no, before leaning forward, wrapping a sizable hand around both their cocks, his fingers unable to meet due to the thickness between the two of them.

Setting a fast pace right out the gate, he delights in Johnny's wide-eyed gasp, mouth falling into an oh! of pleasure. He promptly makes it a objective to draw that sound out as many times as possible.

A handful of dry, rasping strokes follow before he lets go, ignoring Johnny's whine of pleading disappointment to reach up and grasp his mohawk, pulling him up and forward to hunch over. "Spit," he directs, aiming Johnny's face at their laps.

He hasn't ever seen Johnny so eager before, with how he spits on their cocks before tilting his chin up for a kiss like a dog asking for a reward.

Ghost laughs but can't help leaning down for another kiss, giving him what he's asking for so prettily. Pulling back he pushes Johnny's forehead causing him to fall backwards once more before wrapping his hand back around their cocks, smearing the wetness with a nasty twist before resuming stroking.

The wet glide is significantly better.

Johnny's back arches almost instantly, a loud, low moan falling from his open mouth. He reaches for Ghost—desperate, grasping hands that hold on tightly once they find purchase, reluctant to let go.

Ghost takes great joy in wringing every sound possible from his mouth, every twist, stroke and squeeze done with the sole purpose of finding every soft spot the other man has so he can exploit them ruthlessly.

"Christ, you're whining like a whore."

And he is. Johnny has tears gathering on his lash line, high-pitched uh uh uhs escaping with every stroke.

Ghost watches in awe, biting his cheek to give him something to focus on so he doesn't finish too quickly. Johnny is a vision spread out below him. Sweat dotting his face, mixing with the tears and drool he couldn't keep contained, a blissed out look in his eyes as he watches Ghost back, keeping their gaze locked.

That is the last straw for Ghost.

He focuses intolerably on the areas Johnny moaned the loudest for, touching him with intent. The younger man isn't able to hold back anymore and he comes with a long cry, audible to anyone passing by the room.

A final tug is all Ghost needs before he's finishing too, cum wetting the thick hair of Johnny's torso and pooling in the divot of his belly button.

As they pant in the aftermath, Johnny looks at him with something close to worship in his eyes before it's shrouded once more, pressed deep in an effort to hide and protect the feeling.

Ghost leans forward to give one final messy, wet kiss before backing away to fix his pants. He smacks Johnny's hands away when he reaches for the corner of the bedding with a harsh, leave it, pup, before pulling the orange Hooter shorts back up over Johnny's waist, tucking his slowly softening cock gently to the side.

Standing, he ushers Johnny to the door, opening it and gesturing him out without looking to see if anyone is around. Johnny's breath is still slightly too fast to be normal as he passes. With a firm pat on his ass, Ghost watches him walk down the hallway, still covered in sticky spend for anyone passing to see.

He'll have to come up with a more permanent way to mark him in the future and his mind is already whirring with possibilities.

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[raisedbythetv89]

“bUfFy sHoUlD hAvE eNdEd aT sEaSoN 5” I will crawl through my phone and come out yours “the ring” style

You hate spuffy? Your business. You hate Tara’s death and everything Willow did to Tara? VALID. You wish seeing red didn’t exist? Literally so do all of us. Hating certain plot points is one thing but YOU WANT BUFFY DEAD????? You want the suicidal girl who has been sacrificing everything for EVERYONE else since she was 15 years old when she was offered up to angel as a reward for trying to do some good in his pathetic life and called to fight evil ALONE to kill herself at 20? Literally welcoming her death with open arms she is so ready to be done with life and this fight (yes I know it was to save Dawn and the world but neither of those negate the fact that they established she has a death wish and that one day she just wouldn’t want to fight anymore bc her life is just that hard - that is the textbook definition of being suicidal)

THAT IS HOW YOU WANT IT TO END?????

Seriously take 80 steps back from me expeditiously. That ending reaffirms the idea that women should just give and give and give until it kills them. That the only good victims are dead ones. Oh season 6 is sad and uncomfortable and you miss the vibes of the previous seasons? Guess what every single person who has been traumatized wishes to be the person they were before that they can never get back to. Buffy season 6 and 7 is one of the most important representations of what healing looks like after severe trauma and chronic abuse. It’s an obscenely important story to exist. It tells victims of trauma and people who suffer from depression there is a way THROUGH you CAN recover you won’t be the same but you’ll be even better if you learn to love yourself. Because of seasons 6&7 Buffy gets to reach actual adulthood empowered and supported in a way she never has been before and escaping the town that had become her personal hell

This is not some sort of evolved, media literate take that so many like to present it as. Buffy ending at s5 would just reaffirm so many problematic and harmful narratives around mental health, healing, and what is possible for women and people with childhood trauma.

S7 & the comic s12 ending tell us that it DOES get better and that death is not the way out and fighting for your future even if you can’t picture is will be worth it 🖤

[natelia-aldelliz]

more ghost!Roach with accidental necromancer Soap, their first interaction !

(please ignore the fact that i can't draw the same character twice lmao)