Latest posts tagged with #subghost on Bluesky
Kinktober day 14 - omegaverse
#kinktober #kinktober2025 #nsfw #cod #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soapmactavish #simonghostriley #CallOfDuty #CallOfDutyFanart #codnsfw #subghost #bottomghost #bottomsimonghostriley #johnsoapmactavish #omegaverse #omegaghost #alphasoap
I'm figuring some things out...give me an hour or so
#kinktober #kinktober2025 #nsfw #cod #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soapmactavish #simonghostriley #CallOfDuty #CallOfDutyFanart #codnsfw #subghost #bottomghost #bottomsimonghostriley #johnsoapmactavish #omegaverse
kinktober day 13 - dildo
T4T Ghoap!
#kinktober #kinktober2025 #nsfw #cod #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soapmactavish #simonghostriley #CallOfDuty #CallOfDutyFanart #codnsfw #subghost #transghost #transsimonghostriley #johnsoapmactavish #transsoap #transjohnsoapmactavish
Kinktober day 11 - come licking, handcuffs
#kinktober #kinktober2025 #nsfw #cod #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soapmactavish #simonghostriley #CallOfDuty #CallOfDutyFanart #codnsfw #subghost #bottomghost #bottomsimonghostriley #johnsoapmactavish
Sanderson should have been thinking about Vernon. About the parachute. About the fact that someone had tried to kill him. That he was still in immediate danger. That the one person he could trust was having a psychotic episode. He should have been focused on anything other than the way Simon Riley’s body curled into his own, warm and pliant against his chest. “Top n’ Tail?” Riley had asked timidly when they first discussed bedding arrangements. “The fuck is that?” Sanderson blurted out. Articulate as always, Gary, he thought sardonically to himself. To Riley's credit, he didn't seem fazed by Sanderson's confusion over his Britishisms. "Means we lie next t’ each other, but flipped,” Riley had explained. "Me feet by your ‘ead, yours by mine.” He was backpedaling from his earlier request, Sanderson realized. From the fact he all but begged Sanderson to hold him. Perhaps Riley was starting to come to his senses now and realized that request was extremely intimate and personal. Except Sanderson didn't care that it was. “Considering you almost puked, I think it's better if I just make good on my promise to hold you so you don't retch,” Sanderson deadpanned. “You seem to need to avoid pungent smells, and feet aren't exactly known for smelling like Irish Spring.”
Simon blushed, the redness running from his neck to the tips of his ears. “Tha's fair,” he had mumbled, then climbed into bed without another word. And that's how Sanderson wound up in his current predicament—his mind and body a fucking war zone. Between the rush of adrenaline still pounding in his veins, the weight of the day crashing down on him, and the way Riley—Simon—felt pressed tight to every inch of his body, Sanderson felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, peering over into something dangerous. Something he was too scared to name. Simon's body was warm—tucked into Sanderson’s chest like it was the only place he belonged. His breath was slow, his muscles had relaxed, but his fingers still curled tightly into the fabric of Sanderson’s shirt. Holding on for dear life. He let out a slow, measured breath, dragging his hand up into Simon’s hair before he could stop himself. It was soft. Softer than he’d expected. Like silk. He gripped it lightly. Simon’s voice made a low, desperate noise at the gentle tug of his hair. Not just any sound either—a submissive, pathetic moan. His arms tightened around Sanderson’s ribs, his face pressed further into Sanderson’s chest, his breath hot against his skin. Something twisted low in Sanderson’s gut and he bit back a groan. This was a mistake.
This was already too much. The tension in his chest was pulling tight, wrapping around his ribs like Simon’s strong arms, and yet—he didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t stop Simon from seeking more warmth, more contact. Sanderson swallowed and allowed his hand to slide back down to Simon’s back, rubbing soothing circles into his knotted muscles. Simon's breath hitched before he sighed and relaxed, breath dancing lightly across his skin and rendering Sanderson immobile. He was so deeply and irrevocably, fucked. He should have pulled away, but he also didn't want whatever this was to stop either. Instead, he wrapped his arms tighter around Simon, his fingers pressing further into the ridges of his spine and causing Simon to arch into him. Too close. Riley’s breath ghosted over his collarbone, the scent of him—vanilla, wood smoke, Earl Grey, tobacco—wrapping around Sanderson, sinking into his lungs. It should have been calming, grounding. Instead, it was intoxicating. This was supposed to be about keeping his only ally together, Sanderson had told himself. But now, his pants were becoming unbearably tight, and he was struggling to keep this shit tactical.
Sanderson forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to ignore the heat coiling tight in his stomach. This was wrong. This shouldn't have been about the fact that Simon smelled like fucking heaven and sighed into his touch like a man starved of affection. Shouldn't have been about the way he had melted into Sanderson like he belonged there. This was about keeping Simon together. Keeping both of them together. And yet— Simon suddenly shifted. A slow, unconscious roll of his hips, an almost imperceptible press of muscle and heat, but Sanderson felt it like a fucking landmine went off beneath his trousers. His breath hitched, sharp and involuntary. Simon must have felt it, because he suddenly froze. Shit. The warmth of his breath stilled against Sanderson’s collarbone. His fingers tightened against the fabric of Sanderson’s shirt, as if realizing—truly realizing—how close they were. Jesus Christ. This was a mistake.
I know there are some #GhostRoach #RoachGhost fans on here, as well as some #BottomGhost and #SubGhost fans. I've got a little treat for y'all. :)
CW: PTSD, boundaries, self-sabotage, rejection, disassociation, post-flashback, undernegotiated kissing (1/3) #COD #CallofDuty #ficWIP
