as promised some braid ghosties! (+ my first exploratory sketches of ghost in the first one ++ the last one a slightly updated version)
i was put on this gay ass earth to draw the same pictures again and again
AleRudy, SoapGhost. Size Queen + Car Sex. Lemon. Canon Era.
Soap groans, open-mouthed into the smooth leather of the car, damp with his spit. It catches on his nose, draws his lips upwards as Ghost pulls him back, onto his cock once more. No chance of catching his breath when the space in his chest is destroyed, the only sound he’s able to make a low whine.
Ale lets out a low whistle across from them and Soap forces his gaze up, tries to focus on the sharp hunger of his grin.
“Not bad, lift him a little, Ghost?”
Behind him, Ghost’s breathing doesn’t change, the roll of his hips unabated as he raises Soap upright, one hand on chest, the other a scorching brand on his hip, layered over the tattoo Soap has there. It’s a perfect match to the span of his fingers, the middle shortened to match the ring and fore; Soap had made the stencil himself after all.
“Ah, see that, Rudy, my love?” Alejandro leans down to murmur in Rudy’s ear, brushing his knuckles beneath the other man’s chin to lift it. “The bulge of Ghost’s cock in Soap’s belly?”
Rudy’s eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide and intent like he’s peeling away skin and muscle to inspect the exact dimensions. They make a good pair, something managing to claw through the haze of Soap‘s thoughts of charcoal and sweeping lines, enough negative space to highlight the intensity of Rudy’s gaze that isn’t softened by the flush over his cheeks. Alejandro tugs Rudy upright, a blurred reflection of the pose Soap has been lifted into, Rudy’s leg nudged into the footwell to broaden his stance and it takes Soap a moment to understand why.
Rudy’s hand is locked around Alejandro’s hold on his hip, Alejandro’s skin indented pale beneath the press of Rudy’s nails. There’s a similar bulge to the one in Soap’s belly, shifting as Alejandro rolls his hips but—
“Not bad,” Ghost murmurs, keeping Soap in place.
Rudy, getting fucked on the biggest cock Soap has ever seen and still very much in charge, catches Soap’s gaze and winks.
Home
sunshine soap zine crashed and burned so here's one of pieces from it! dragon ghost protecting his favorite treasure from the hoard
Ghost: Johnny- Put it DOWN
Gaz: We can talk about this! You don't have to do this
Soap, holding a electric razor near his head: It's happening fellas. Time for a new look
Ghost: No no no-
Gaz: Be reasonable!
Price, walking in: What's going on?
Soap: I'm going to buzz my hair off
Price: Oh... do it
Soap: *turns the razor on*
Ghost & Gaz: NOOOOO-
Price: WAIT-
Halloween Costume
price x gn!reader | 535 words cw: noncon deepthroat 'training', implied abduction, restraints a/n: short and not sweet. summary: working you up to the real thing. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list
“Open.”
The man’s voice is deep. Unfamiliar and gravel-thick. Reeking of tobacco. Roughness hangs in every word like he’s forcing sound through smoke.
Despite the cloud of fear rendering your mind sluggish and slow, you try to focus on scent and sound. The blindfold tightly wound around your head necessitating it. You force yourself to remember, even as pure terror squeezes your heart as the stranger squeezes your jaw.
“Please, no more, no mo—ough!”
Silicone catches your mouth curled around that ‘o’, and the heel of the man’s hand forces it past your lips and beyond. It barges into your throat, making it impossible to even sob, let alone breathe.
The sudden invasion constricts your chest. The air thickens, the sharp tang of panic rising like a leak in the bottom of a life raft. You thrash with your wrists useless above your head. Your ankles, too. All four limbs immobile and secure, rattling against what sounds like metal posts.
Deprived of your vision, there’s no telling if everything’s fading to black or not. But the unsettling calm that rushes over after several minutes of struggling to breathe around a fake cock is enough. You could die like this. You kind of hope you do. This is torture, and it’s carried on for ages. Your lungs feel bruised.
The silicone pulls out of your mouth. A violent cough explodes from your chest, the air coming in ragged bursts. Another hand strokes over your neck, a mocking comfort, before it fixes to the underside of your jaw. Thick fingers curl and press into where it’s most tender and restrictive.
“Breathe, sweetheart.”
The endearment is salt in the wound. Your cheeks burn with humiliation.
The toy plunges over your tongue and immediately nudges into your gullet once more. He fucks your mouth with a controlled and uncompromising rhythm. When he started, he called it ‘training’, but there’s been no gentleness. No baby steps. Just this. Brute force and cruel repetition. Beneath the blindfold, your eyes water, and snot beads in your nose. Though you still beg every time you draw enough breath, hoping to wear down whatever barbarity drives the stranger, your body simultaneously tries to comply. It’s not very good, though.
The sound of wet suction repeatedly breaks over your retching.
“That’s alright, sweetheart. Gag. Gag now, because I won’t tolerate it if you gag later.”
He must smile at the fresh surge of tears that summons.
Your nostrils flare, desperately sucking in oxygen as drool escapes down your chin unchecked. The hollow of your throat is a puddle. Cheeks drenched. Your palms must be bloody with how hard you dig your nails into your flesh.
The pressure relents. He pets your quivering tongue with the cock, patting the fat of it before pulling it out. Strings of your spit stretch and snap, splattering onto your nose and cheeks like a wet cobweb.
The bed creaks. Your body rises slightly as the mattress slowly inflates with the removed weight. The toy, you assume, lands somewhere near your feet a moment later. You breathe heavily, throat burning from its torment. You’re unable to get a word past your cracking lips.
A zipper rasps down its teeth.
“Open.”
Give him back his swords NOW !!
You have a visitor who can’t help but love your shiny jewelry! Let’s gift him one - he’ll surely love it! (Fairy!Gaz)
if you still sleep with a stuffed animal…
- price makes sure you don’t feel childish for it. you’re a little reluctant about admitting it first, but there’s no hiding it once you move in. you grip the edge of your shirt and stare down into the floor when he asks you about the well-loved teddy in one of your moving boxes. he embraces you and reminds you of your age and your big girl job, your degree, your car. none of that changes because you sleep with a stuffie, he mutters as his hands find your wide ass. goes on to tell you all the grown up things he wants to do you.
- kyle finds it endearing, even when you’re a little embarrassed to tell him about it. you’re already the most important person in the world to him. a stuffie only makes you more adorable in his eyes. and frankly, he gets it. it’s nice having something soft and warm to hold when you go sleep, he says and winks at you. still, teddy gets turned the other way when you two start undressing each other.
- johnny finds it a little odd, but only because he can fall asleep standing up in a chopper mid-flight, and therefore doesn’t quite understand that you have specific requirements in order to sleep well. but doesn’t tease you for it, instead always making sure teddy’s around for you. brings him out to the living room when you two (now three) are watching a movie and even borrows him for himself when you’re away. claims it’s because he smells like you, denies it’s because he’s growing fond of him too.
- simon treats teddy with the utmost respect. he probably had one too, long ago, until his father destroyed it. he understands your feelings about your stuffie and places him carefully on the floor next to the bed if you two get busy. stitches up his torn seams with his balaclava-thread. slides him gently back under your arm if you’re already asleep when he comes to bed. puts his own arms around you in turn, protecting your back while teddy has your front. still, slips a hand under your shirt to feel the soft skin of your tits to fall asleep to.