#joe the ghost

[turtle-babe83]

Humbuggled

Raph x F!Reader

Warning: Language and NSFW content 18+ only

This is probably the longest piece I’ve written, and I hope you all enjoy it. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! 🎄

Candy canes. Blech.

Hallmark Christmas movies. Gag.

Mariah Carey could take that song and shove it somewhere unpleasant. Barf.

Raphael wanted absolutely nothing to do with the holidays. It was too materialistic, too pepperminty, and there was too much red and green everywhere, even for him. Mikey constantly sang Christmas carols and Donnie was obsessed with Peppermint Mochas and iced cookies. Even Leo and Master Splinter were more cheerful than usual. But Raph just couldn’t get into it this year, not when he couldn’t have what he wanted most.

You.

You had entered their lives last winter, after the holidays were past. Over the last year, you had become a close ally and friend to the mutant family, helping out on missions and with medical care. You fit in well with his brother’s girlfriends and his father adored you. You were beautiful both inside and out, with mouthwatering curves and the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever met. He didn’t deserve you.

He was gruff, cantankerous, and decidedly not human. He would never be able to take you out and show you off. He couldn’t meet your family or friends, attend events with you, or even take you on a proper date. The fact was, he loved you too much to tell you how he felt. It wasn’t the fear of rejection that twisted his guts, it was the fear of acceptance. So, Raphael did the most selfless thing he had ever done in his life. He kept his feelings strictly to himself with the solid belief that his misery was best for you.

🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼🎅🏼

Joe had fond memories of the Christmas season from when he was alive. There had been big family dinners, fun work parties, and mistletoe kisses. He found that watching the unusual family he had posthumously adopted enjoying the holidays warmed his soul. Over the last two years, he had successfully helped Leo and Mikey unveil their feelings to the lovely ladies they were head over heels for, and helped put the spice back in Donnie’s relationship with his girlfriend. He was proud of his track record. There was just one brother left and good grief, did he ever need Joe’s help.

Raphael.

The big brute was so damn stubborn. You were the perfect woman for him but he had some self-righteous notion that you would be better off with a human companion. He wouldn’t even consider talking with you about it. Joe wanted to shake him.

Even worse, Raph wasn’t exactly into the idea of the lair ghost. While Leo and Mikey were both more attuned to the spiritual anyhow, even scientific type Donnie had been easier to convince. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe. More that he just wanted nothing to do with it. Joe pondered the situation as he observed the turtles enjoying their Christmas Eve party.

Dinner had been boisterous but clearly delicious, and afterwards, everyone settled down around the living room area to watch Christmas movies. Master Splinter retired to his room. Leo and his sweetheart piled up together in the oversized recliner. Donnie settled on one end of the couch with his girlfriend curled up in his lap. Mikey and his girl made a nest of pillows and blankets in the floor in front of the tv and snuggled close together. That left the other end of the couch. Raph sat heavily with a slight scowl, knowing you would take the spot beside him. Joe rolled his eyes. As you approached the couch, he gave you a little shove so you stumbled and fell into Raphael’s lap. You scrambled up with an apology on your lips. Raph looked pained as he helped you sit beside him. Then he crossed his arms and directed his full attention to the movie. Joe watched the hurt flash across your face and felt a twinge of sorrow on your behalf. He was tempted to smack the turtle on the back of his dense head.

“What did you pick to watch?” Leo asked Mikey.

His girlfriend answered for him, “A classic! The Muppet’s Christmas Carol.”

Mikey started the movie and everyone quieted down to enjoy the film. Joe was still trying to figure out how to help you and Raph reach a point of understanding when he found himself watching the movie. He chuckled to himself as he compared Raphael’s sour approach to the holidays with Scrooge onscreen. And that’s when it hit him. It was time to try his hand at dream walking.

Raph was about to meet Joe, the ghost of Christmases past, present, and future.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Somehow, you had dozed off during the movie. Raph went stiff as your head fell onto his large bicep. He could smell the scent of your shampoo wafting up from your hair all sprawled over his skin. Fuck, you smelled incredible. It took all his willpower to remain stoic throughout the rest of the movie. He woke you as the others were making their way to their respective bedrooms.

“Hey tiger, movie’s over,” he muttered, nudging you gently.

You blinked bleary eyes, then noticed everyone else was gone. You looked up at his handsome face, feeling your heart clench. Now was your chance.

“I’m too tired to try to make it home,” you mumbled, making your voice sound as sleepy as possible. “Can I stay the night here?”

Something you couldn’t identify flashed in his eyes but was gone within seconds. He nodded hesitantly.

“Sure, ya can have my bed. I’ll sleep out here on da couch,” he replied.

Your heart sunk. You were hoping he would share the bed with you, but knew better than to push him. Maybe he truly didn’t have any feelings for you. It was entirely possible that the times you caught him staring at you had nothing to do with love or even lust. You sighed wistfully, then bid him good night.

As you snuggled down in his bed, his rugged scent enveloped you. Your body heated with want while your eyes pricked with tears. You fell asleep hugging his pillow.

Raph tossed and turned on the couch with thoughts of you curled up in his bed driving him to madness. Sleep came reluctantly as he fought the fantasies invading his thoughts. Joe stood at the end of the couch close to Raph’s head, waiting for the moment he succumbed to rest. The second he went under, Joe reached out and touched him, entering through his mind’s eye in the center of his forehead. He went straight to the ninja’s memories and searched for just the right one.

💤😴💤😴💤😴💤😴💤😴💤

Raphael looked around in confusion. He recognized the building he was in, but he hadn’t been there in several months. In fact, he’d only been there once: the night he met you.

“Remember this night, Raphael?”

Raph startled at the unexpected male voice. He whirled around, hands going for his sai. A nondescript male stood behind him with hands in the pockets of his khaki pants. His hair was a golden brown and the shadow of a beard covered his jawline. Brown eyes that saw far too much stared back into Raphael’s green ones.

“Who da fuck are ya?!” he snarled, twirling his sai expertly in his large hands.

The man smiled, “C’mon, Raph. You know who I am.”

The large turtle growled and began to circle the man, who for his part, didn’t look concerned in the least.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t’ve asked ya, asshole,” he retorted.

The man sighed, “The name is Joseph, but your brothers prefer to call me Joe.”

Raph froze. There was no way. This was a dream, right? It had to be.

“I musta had some bad eggnog tonight,” Raph snorted. “Dreaming about a damn ghost. Mikey’s got in my head.”

Joe chuckled softly, “Ah, Mikey. He’s pretty happy now with his girl. That’s why I’m here, Raph. I want you to be happy, too. And frankly, you’re about to blow it. Y/n is perfect for you.”

Raph frowned, “I’m not trying to get with y/n. She deserves better than a mutant freak like me.”

Joe pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “If I wasn’t already dead, you’d give me an aneurysm. Listen, altruism is fine and dandy but the woman wants you. Badly. She’s been in love with you for months.”

“Bullshit.”

Joe gestured toward the door, “I’ll prove it to you. Consider me your Ghost of Christmas Past.”

With that, he walked through the door, expecting Raph to follow. After a brief argument with himself, he gave in and sought to catch up. Past the open door was a scene of chaos. One of your coworkers had been fired and returned to work with a gun. You were one of his hostages. Raph spotted you hiding under your desk, frantically texting on your phone to reach your family, afraid you wouldn’t get to tell them that you loved them. He started towards you, but Joe placed a hand on his arm.

“This is just your memory. You can’t alter it. Watch her carefully, especially once you begin to interact with her,” he advised.

Raph’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. A moment later, he and his brothers snuck into the room unseen. Well, not totally. He was watching you closely and saw your eyes widen in shock as you spotted the mutants. Then, you focused specifically on him. He felt butterflies in his stomach at your perusal of him. You were glued to him as he swiftly disarmed the disgruntled worker, awe evident on your face. When Mikey found you and coaxed you out from under your desk, you were cordial but still kept your rapt attention on the red brute.

“See?” Joe asked, smugly.

Raphael’s slowly growing smile dropped instantly.

“Don’t prove nothin’.”

Joe groaned, “You really are stubborn. Alright, let’s take a visit to the here and now. Ghost of Christmas Present, at your service. Let’s go!”

He turned on his heel and went back through the door they had just come in. Raph shrugged and followed, wondering why they were going back to the previous room. When he passed the threshold, however, he found himself in his own bedroom. Joe gestured toward the bed where you laid in deep slumber.

Raph gazed at you, your arms would tightly around his pillow, and his blanket wrapped about your body. You looked peaceful and perfectly at home. The sight of you sleeping in his bed did something to him. He could picture you there every night, clinging to him the way you held the pillow. He’d never been jealous of an inanimate object before.

“Look at her there,” Joe murmured. “Like it’s where she belongs.”

He watched Raph closely. A range of emotions flickered over the terrapin’s face. Desire and love warred with doubt and insecurity. Joe knew that he needed to give the affectionate emotions some reinforcement if they were to overcome Raphael’s deepest fears. He stepped closer to you and touched your forehead, giving you a momentary dream of being in the big brute’s arms. You sighed happily in your sleep and mumbled his name reverently. Raph startled at that and Joe smiled.

“She’s dreaming of you. Raphael, she loves you. Why can’t you just tell her how you feel and give both of you what you want most?”

Raph squeezed his eyes shut tight. You deserved more, right? Why was his argument in his head getting fainter? The voice of reason was fading fast. He growled in frustration.

“It's because I love her that I keep my mouth shut,” he grumbled. “I want’er to have a good life and I ain’t good enough for her.”

Joe could see the cracks in his facade. Raph was starting to give in. Well, one more try should do the trick. Time to pull out the big guns. He walked over to the big guy who was still watching you with love in his eyes. Joe snapped his fingers and suddenly, everything went black.

Raph felt panic bubbling in his chest when suddenly he was standing in a foggy cemetery before a tombstone with his name on it.

“What the fuck?!” he snarled.

A figure in a black cloak stepped out from the fog and Raph once again reached for his weapons. Then, the darkness within the cowl began to hoot with laughter. The cloak fell back to reveal a very amused Joe. Raph was absolutely pissed.

“What is all this shit?”

Joe wiped the imaginary tears from his eyes as the cloak faded and the scene around them went fuzzy.

“Ghost of Christmas Future!” he chuckled. “Oh man, you should have seen your face! Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

The scene around them began to come into focus again but this time it was at the top of the Empire State Building. It was winter still, you were bundled up and he was even wearing warmer gear. Raph raised a brow at the nerves he saw on his dream version’s face. Then, shock dropped his jaw as he watched this other Raphael get down on one knee with a beautiful ring to propose to you. You squealed your “yes” loudly and threw yourself into his arms. Tears rolled down your cheeks as he shakily slipped the ring on your finger. Then you kissed him soundly.

“I believe y/n thinks you are more than good enough for her. You are her choice, Raphael. She’s just waiting for you to choose her, too.”

Raph felt a lump in his throat as he watched the scene before him. You kept kissing him and he looked happier than he’d ever been. Could Joe be right? Was this truly his future?

“You have a decision to make. I suggest you make it quickly. Merry Christmas, Raphael.”

Raph started to ask the spirit a question when he suddenly found himself jerking awake, still on the couch in the lair. It took him a moment to reorient himself. Was it all made up in his head? Just a dream brought on by stress and his brothers’ ghost stories? He sat up and debated his next move. He looked over at his bedroom door, and flinched in surprise when the doorknob twisted and the door swung open. He waited for you to come out, but after a minute, he stood.

“Joe?” he whispered.

When no one responded, he crept forward quietly and peeked through the doorway. You still laid in the same position from his dream and clearly, you were not the one who opened the door. He felt his stomach flutter at the implications.

“Okay, I believe ya now,” he said to the darkness.

He stepped into his room and closed the door behind him. Switching on the lamp next to his bed, Raph shook your shoulder gently.

🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌

You came awake to a gentle nudge and blinked sleepily in the low light of the bedside lamp. The first thing you became aware of was a large shadow hovering over you. You flinched and opened your eyes wide in fear until you realized who the shadow belonged to.

“Raph? What’s wrong?”

The large turtle scratched his head, looking sheepish. In fact, you had never seen him look so uncertain before. You sat up and patted the edge of the bed. After a moment of hesitation, he sat. He suddenly found a callous on his palm very interesting. Glancing at your phone on the nightstand, you saw that it was 2am. What reason could he possibly have for waking you?

“Raph,” you coaxed gently, “what is it? You know you can tell me anything right?”

He took a deep breath and decided just to spit it out. Bracing his heart for rejection, he made himself look you in the eye.

“Anythin’?” he asked. “Even if it changes everythin’? Even if…if it’s…that I love ya?”

You froze. Were you dreaming? Did he really just utter the words you have been desperate to hear for months now? You swallowed hard and then pinched your leg hard. Damn, that hurt. Okay, not dreaming.

“You-you love me?” you squeaked.

His cheeks turned a darker shade of green. He began to wring his hands nervously, averting his gaze to his feet.

“It’s fine if ya don’t feel the same,” he started, but you didn’t give him a chance to say more.

You launched yourself at him, tackling the unsuspecting brute backwards on the mattress. He landed with an “oof” as you wrapped your arms and legs around him like a little monkey.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” you chanted, littering his face with kisses as happy tears pricked your eyes.

Raph was stunned at your reaction to say the least, but as soon as his brain caught up, he grabbed your cheeks and took control. Slanting his mouth over yours, he coaxed your lips open for his tongue to explore. You were just as eager to kiss him back, holding his shoulders tightly as you still lay over him. One of his large hands tangled in your hair as the other drifted down to press on your lower back. Your core ached almost painfully as desire rose swift and strong. How long had you wanted him? How many times had you touched yourself to daydreams of Raphael fucking you in every position you could dream up? Maybe it was too soon, but you were ready to beg him to take you right now. As something thick and long began to harden against your crotch, you surmised that it might not take much to convince him.

“Raph,” you groaned, pulling your head back to stare into his lust-blown pupils. “Please, I want you.”

Raphael was breathing hard, his cock laying heavy between his legs. He couldn’t believe this night. First, you loved him back, and now, fuuuuuck.

“Ya sure bout dis?” he asked with some concern, his hands kneading the rounded globes of your ass unconsciously.

You leaned forward to nip at his lips, then yanked the T-shirt you were sleeping in over your head. You had already removed your bra before going to bed, and he couldn’t help that his eyes were drawn to your tightly hardened nipples.

“I can’t think of a better Christmas gift you could give me than to make me yours,” you confessed. “It’s all I want.”

His hands wrapped around your ribs, thumbs teasing the underside of your breasts as he savored your words.

“Hearing ya say that ya love me, that’s gift enough fer me,” he smiled, “but I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t been dreamin’ bout dis for a long time.”

“Me too,” you breathed, reaching down to tug your leggings and panties off.

Raph looked you over so intensely that your cheeks began to warm. You motioned at his shorts and cleared your throat.

“Aren’t you going to undress?” you asked, pointedly.

He lifted a brow and smirked as he set you beside him on the bed. He stood and shoved his shorts and boxer briefs down to the floor. The monster of a cock that bobbed before you gave you pause. This was it. He was going to ruin you for anyone else and dear god, you were here for it. You licked your lips and you could swear it twitched in response. Scooting to the edge of the bed, you reached out and ran a finger from base to tip along the underside. A rumble that you recognized as a low churr gave you the confidence you needed, and you grasped him in both hands. Leaning forward, you began to corkscrew the base and popped your pout over the tip. You couldn’t take him too far yet, he was so thick! Saliva ran down to soak your fingers as you messily sucked what you could fit in your mouth. A spurt of precum on your tongue just made you suck harder.

“Fuck, yer mouth is incredible,” he moaned. “Too good, ya gotta stop.”

He tugged at your hair until you pulled off reluctantly. You pouted at the pause.

“Hey now, I getta turn, too,” he chuckled.

He pushed your shoulders back until you were laying on the mattress. His hands ran up the back of your legs until he had your ankles in hand. He knelt down, resting them on his shoulders, and breathed in the tangy scent of your arousal. Using just the tip of his tongue, he slid it slowly up your slit. The flavor was like nothing he had ever tasted before and he dove in for more. Lapping and gathering your wetness on his tongue, he slurped and swallowed loudly. Your body shuddered in response. No one else had ever been so enthusiastic about eating your pussy before! You could definitely get used to this.

“Raph, I’m gonna-“ your words became a moan as an orgasm crashed over you in overlapping waves.

He worked his tongue deep within your walls, drawing out your release, and drinking you in. Damn, you were so tight! He worked a finger inside, focusing his licks on your clit. He had to prepare you if you were ever going to take his massive manhood. He kept thrusting his finger, and as soon as you tensed for another release, he eased his other finger inside your pulsing walls.

“It’s too much!” you wailed, head thrashing from side to side.

Raph pressed a firm kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring, “I know ya can take it, baby girl. I ain’t no little human man. I don’t wanna hurt ya when I fuck ya.”

You nodded in understanding and tried to relax. After several minutes, you noticed that your pussy wasn’t squeezing nearly as tightly around his thick digits. The female body truly was an amazing thing. You licked your lips, catching his gaze.

“I-I think I’m ready.”

“Ya sure?” he asked, sliding his fingers out. He sucked your juices from each digit, watching the way you eyed his mouth. “I’m sorry, did ya want a taste?”

Suddenly, his tongue was pushing past your lips. He wrapped you in his arms and then rolled so you were laying atop him once again. Seizing the moment, you rubbed your wet folds up and down his length while you tangled your tongue with his. Sitting up, you angled your hips just right and the tip of his cock nudged your entrance. You placed your hands on his plastron to brace as you took your time easing down. It was a good burning stretch as you took him inch by inch. He held still, his only movement coming from his fingers trailing up and down your thighs. You let out a sigh of relief when you finally rested flush on his groin. You traced the scars on his handsome face as you gave your body time to adjust. You loved it when he was maskless. He grabbed your hand and tenderly kissed each finger before laying your palm against his pebbled cheek. Your heart melted all over again and you felt the need to tell him just what he meant to you as you began to roll your hips.

“I love you…so much,” you whispered, “for so many different reasons.”

He started to speak but you laid a finger over his lips. The easy, leisurely rhythm you set was sweet but he wanted so badly to lose himself in you. Resisting the urge to buck, he resigned himself to letting you keep the reins, for now.

“I love how brave you are and…..and how strong. Mmmm…..Your sense of duty and your loyalty to your loved ones is, ah, commendable. You make me feel…small and delicate…but also, you make me feel like I’m an important part of the team,” you paused as pleasure mounted, rendering your speaking abilities moot.

Raph was getting a lump in his throat listening to you and the last thing he wanted to do was cry during his first time having sex with you. He decided to take advantage of the moment and rolled with you.

“I think if ya can still talk, I ain’t doing it right,” he smirked.

He slid his arms under your back and gripped your shoulders, as you lifted your legs to wrap around his hips. Then Raphael did what he knew he was best at: losing control. Your breath hitched and panted as he fucked you, holding nothing back. Pain and pleasure blended until you couldn’t tell the difference between either and frankly, you didn’t care. It took all your willpower not to scream and wake the whole lair as he sent you careening into your third climax of the night. You clawed his shoulders desperately, mewling into his throat, as the sudden onslaught of his cum sent tingles through your overstimulated cunt. He grunted and growled as he emptied himself, feeling utterly satisfied.

Raphael rolled with you once again, letting you lay half over him, uncaring that his seed was trickling out of you all over his thigh and the bed. You snuggled into his side with a contented sigh, worn out in the best possible way. He kissed your sweaty forehead and brushed your hair off your face.

“I can think of a million things I love about ya,” he murmured, “but I think my favorite is that a beautiful woman like you, can actually love a big, ugly beast like me.”

You smacked his plastron, “Hey now, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about there, mister. He’s handsome and sexy as hell and I don’t want to hear you say any different.”

He chuckled, “Aight, aight, don’t get yer panties in a twist.”

“Good night, Raph. I love you.”

“Night, tiger. Love you, too.”

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Raph awoke to the sound of loud whispers outside his bedroom door. He nudged you and held a finger to his lips as you came awake.

“Don’t you want to know if they slept together?”

“Maybe she isn’t even here!”

“Her purse and jacket are still by the couch. She’s here.”

“Guys, do you think they ‘did it’ last night?”

In unison, the voices whisper-shouted, “Shut up, Mikey!”

Raph rolled his eyes and you giggled.

“We can hear you numbskulls,” he called out.

The voices hushed. Then you grinned wickedly at your new boyfriend.

“We’ll be out in a few minutes!” you added.

There was a multitude of gasps and a loud “I told you guys!” from Mikey. Then the voices drifted away from the door.

“Ya know, they are gonna give us hell,” he chuckled.

You planted a kiss on his snout as you sat up, “Let’em. I got you and nothing can bring me down.”

You looked around for your clothes when a thought struck you.

“Hey, Raph?”

“Hmm?”

“What made you decide to wake me up at 2am to tell me how you feel?”

The sheepish look was back on his face as he pulled his underwear and a pair of sweatpants on. You located your clothing and got dressed, waiting patiently for him to answer. Finally, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, ya know the stories about the lair ghost?”

Your eyes widened as you nodded, “Yeah.”

“Turns out, he’s real. He, uh, talked me inta telling ya that I love ya.”

“Holy shit.”

He shrugged, “That’s the reaction I had, too.”

Once the two of you joined the rest of the family, hand in hand, they wanted to hear how you and the gruff brother ended up together during the night. Raph begrudgingly admitted that he had a little ghostly help. Still a bit skeptical, you brushed the idea off. Until the star on top of the tree suddenly started glowing brighter than it should.

“Guys?!” you hissed.

The others all turned to look with a collective gasp.

Leo was the first to lift his cup of tea, “A toast to Joe! Without whom, we wouldn’t be celebrating the season with our loves.”

“Here, here!” came the cheer as each one lifted whatever drink they had.

Master Splinter watched the apparition smile as Joe soaked up the joy of the moment. He had much to thank the spirit for. Seeing his sons so happy was the greatest gift the old rat could have received.

“Merry Christmas, my friend,” he murmured, lifting his own tea cup and winking, as Joe’s ethereal jaw dropped in surprise. ♥️

@exovapor @dilucsflame33 @nittleboo @raisin-shell @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @roxosupreme @zowise2912 @xanadu702 @happymoonangel @ashleighclark98 @fyreball66 @tmntspidergirl @hotredphoenix @labeccy @lunar-corgimon @misteria247 @ladyofparchments @raphielover @tortuefaerie @bunnyraptor69 @polypandragon @sharpwindow @tkappi @aurora-the-kunoichi @android-cap-007 @rheawritesforfun @cowabunga-doll @coulrofilia-sexuell @lilyssims @daedric-sorceress @raphslovemuffin80 @sketch-and-write-lover @drowninghell @digitl-art-monstr @fluffytriceratops @angelcatlowyn @turtlesmakemehappy @tmnt-tychou @kawaiibunga @narwals14 @waterstar2016 @infuriatedleprechaun @bibiz82 @foxflamewarrior @forerunnertracer @fictionalmenmistress @ravn-87

[bluegiragi]

negotiations.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[stillinracooncity]

that feminine urge to read something that makes you cry, get angry, scream, laugh like a hormonal teenager, turn up the heat, feel like the most unique and beautiful human being on earth. *sighs*

[concidineart]

something something haunted armor stand

[samuelroukin]

BARRY SLOANE as Joe 'Bear' Graves in SIX (2017—2018) Episode 2.02 Ghosts

[ghostly-groves]

Odd ways hermits play minecraft (from mumbo’s video) in order of appearance

Grian

- f for inventory, e for swap hand, r for zoom

- same headset since 2008

- described as “really cheap and nasty” but comfortable. apparently.

- discontinued ages ago

- ordered a batch from hong kong so he’ll never run out

- they last about a year each

Mumbo

- presses shift with his thumb

Ren

- e for forwards, x for backwards a for left, f for right

- r for inventory, g for swap hand

False

- i for inventory

Etho

- tissue box stand for mic

- five years old from costco

- tissues are still in the box

- keyboard is 18 inches back from the edge of desk (for room for his arms??? so he has elbows on desk)

- shoulder level desk

- mouse sideways in front of keyboard

- high sensitivity on mouse because there’s no space to move it

- metal desk that’s smooth so no mousepad needed

- uses mousepad under left elbow as a cushion instead

Gem

- sprint is caps lock

- r instead of f5

Joe

- uses a foot pedal???

- left pedal for sprint

- centre to change obs

- right to mute mic

- - (minus) to drop item

Cleo

- sits cross legged on her couch

- keyboard on knees

- mouse and mousepad on a flat of soft drink cans

- has a desk but doesn’t use it

- microphone hangs from the staircase banister behind her

Keralis

- left handed

- right hand for wasd, left hand for mouse

- shifts with thumb, pinky for space

Impulse

- sprints with right thumb on mouse

- inverted mouse controls

Skizz

- inverted mouse controls

[top-script]

ok but like

[joe-leviari]

Simon Ghost Riley is annoyed.

" So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other. " || Ghost listens in to you having sex ||

for adults only; NSFW; sexual themes; stalker!Ghost; smut; other COD characters briefly mentioned; backstory for main character; afab!reader x konig; no use of y/n; English is not my first language, feel free to privately message me to correct any mistakes.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, they need you. 

You being the highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire of a now nearly collapsed criminal enterprise, and the only one left alive with the intel that they need. 

But that’s alright, because, as it turns out, you need them. 

Them being the task force 141, the very same that has been sistematically dismantling the above mentioned criminal empire and hunting down the above mentioned highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire. Little-fucking-nuisance, according to Simon. 

So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other. 

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, judging by the way Gaz has been telling you stories from his childhood, the way Price has been calling you silly nicknames through the crackling comms, and the way Soap has taken the habit to fully lean into you every time you show him something stupid on your phone, the only one who doesn’t really like you is Ghost himself. 

Not liking you is fine; that’s something he can deal with for the simple fact that he does not really have to deal with it. Disliking you is a mere subjective perception that he acknowledges in passing, almost distractingly, when he lays his eyes on you. The real problem is that he does not fucking trust you. Now that’s something he has to deal with; that’s HIS duty, that’s HIS team. 

Sure, you are constantly monitored, they are not stupid: you have lived most of your life like a criminal, surrounded by criminals. You have the resources, the knowledge, and fairly good reasons to fuck them over. That’s why you are never left alone and never trusted to carry any weapons unless strictly necessary. Your location is always traced, your heartbeat is polygraph-tested every time you have to be questioned.  The thing is, you were very well made aware of all this when you signed on the dotted line the day that Laswell came to see you in the prison’s infirmary. 

A few days later, there you were, with a bruised face and an even more bruised ego, getting yourself nice and comfy in the room down the hall. 

So it was for the sake of HIS team that Simon had to break into the room down the hall to carefully bug it. With a bit of patience, he will find something compromising that will force Laswell - who seemed to take a shine on you for whatever bloody reason - to send you back to prison. Or anywhere else, really, as long as you were out of sight. And with that, out of mind. 

Much to Ghost's annoyance, you moan differently than he expected. Simon assumed, definitely assumed, and NEVER fantasized that you would moan like a fucking pornstar. 

No, this… This is something entirely different. And now that it thinks about it, it is more like you. You have a wicked sweetness about you, the kind that makes men want to either break you or protect you. 

You have the cheekiness that gets you in trouble—the same one that gets you out of it. Ghost adjusts the ear buds in his ears and draws his eyebrows together. 

The man on you (behind you? Under you? Most definitely inside you) is babbling, grunting, and moaning, visceral and guttural. And you... You sound breathy and airy and wet and light. In a delicate voice, you are giving him directions, but you have to repeat yourself a few times before he snaps out of his daze and complies. And when he finally does, oh, you are all praise. 

How the fuck did he menage to get into your pants? And why, on God’s green earth, would you let him?

Ghost has witnessed you flirt before: sometimes you were just doing your job, other times you were having fun dancing with recruits in bars, flashing them a little smile with a pretty blush on your face. You were quick to throw them a bait and even quicker to retrieve it. “Don’t push your luck, soldier” you would say with an easy grin. Cheeky little thing. 

Simon would scoff at your antics and at the men and women who would fall for your little act. That’s why he is so surprised now, because with you, everything seems to be either an act or a transaction. I’ll give you what you need if you offer me something better first.

That’s what he thought you were doing with Konig when he caught you complimenting his skills and commenting on his strength. Just being smart, just trying to have one more ally. 

But the way you were panting, mewling, and pleading told him a different story. You could not be trusted. And now HIS team is in danger because you couldn’t keep your legs shut. Are your legs actually wide open? Are they on his shoulders? No, Ghost is not thinking about your legs. Instead, he is thinking that he wouldn’t need you to give him pointers on how to adjust the rhythm or how to angle himself to hit your sweet spot. With one hand on your mouth, he’d know exactly what to do to you. You wouldn’t need to say please and thank you; you wouldn’t need to be so polite. 

Simon is startled when you let out a sudden giggle, immediately followed by a whimper. You are confusing, half crying and half elated, half begging to stop and half begging to continue. It’s intimate—you sound so defenseless, so vulnerable. You are definitely not to be trusted. 

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, a little escapade with a fellow soldier is not enough to get you to fuck off somewhere else—somewhere far, far away from him. If that were to be enough, the base would be empty by now. He just has to be a little more patient and wait until he hears you say something compromising to the mercenary (or any other bastard that you’ll let into your bed, for that matter, a slut like you). Eventually you'll let something slip that will put the safety of the team at risk and thwart your credibility in the process.

Ghost is just going to have to endure more of this bullshit, and THAT is what annoys him the most. Not the fact that while listening to you, he is reminded of that one time when you dislocated your shoulder. He lets his focus drift to your moaning, desperately trying to conjure the memory of the way you turned your big, watery eyes on him, looking like a wounded animal. He can see it now; he can hear it now—the barely audible plea that escaped your lips, “Please, please don’t hurt me,"  as he was grabbing your arm and trying to fix you. It is only a pang in the pit of his stomach that snaps him out of it; he should not find the idea of you getting hurt so damn erotic. 

You little fucking nuisance.

[tomicscomics]

02/16/2024

Luxury.  Refinement.  Power.

___

JOKE-OGRAPHY: 1. The Holy Spirit asks Jesus if He forgot His lunch, and Jesus responds in the affirmative, as if forgetting His lunch is something He was supposed to do.  The Holy Spirit's question is similar to a mother reminding her children to pack their lunches for school, but the opposite, reminding Jesus to forget His lunch instead of bring it.  This is because Jesus is going into the desert to fast (eat less than usual as a religious sacrifice), so He's not supposed to bring lunch with him. 2. The Bible translation I drew from said, "The Spirit drove Jesus out to the desert."  To "drive" someone can either mean (1) to encourage, cause, or force them to do something; or (2) to take them somewhere by automobile.  In the Bible, they mean the former.  I, being of sound mind and gentle soul, innocently wonder, "Why not both?" 3. Jesus declares that he's "going TO fast" (going to eat less than usual).  But this sounds like "going TOO fast" (going at an irresponsible speed).  The Holy Spirit assumes Jesus is saying the latter, and corrects Him by saying They're going the speed limit (i.e. not too fast). 4. The car is based on the one featured in the hit television program, "Joe Pera Talks With You."  It's a white 2001 Buick Park Avenue, which his students call, "God's car."  Now, it IS God's car.

[fatalitylikeghosts]

XO

[stillinracooncity]

here, waiting for updates on the 999 fanfics I follow without thinking that people have to socialize, study, work, eat, go to the bathroom and sleep.

[iamtheonelascivious]

Tobias kicking his feet on the phone with Joe Elliott like

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

dude thats my nostalgic ghost!

[the-ghost-bracket]

Kitty propaganda

Joe Hills/Beetlejhost propaganda

[wrathofrats]

Thinking about cirrus making cumulus walk around in a dress without any panties on. Skirt just barely low enough to make cumulus comfortable and cirrus just gets to use her whenever she wants to,

Just wraps her arms around her body in the kitchen, reaching down to slide her fingers through her folds and shushes her low in her ear when cumulus tries to squirm

Sees the other ghouls in the common room from where they stand and easily pushes two inside her

“Cir, what if they notice? What if they hear it-“

“That doesn’t sound like my problem now does it?”

[sunshine-daisies-library]

ghost of you | steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve harrington comes to the realization that he needs you more than anything. if only he had come to that realization before he lost you forever. 

warnings: breakup, angst, drinking, depression, hopeful ending

wordcount: 2.05k

author's note: this fic is based off ghost of you by 5sos, and i hope you enjoy it! i started writing this like back in february and just decided to finish it up now, so there might be random gaps in there just lmk lol. if you'd like a part two, let me know!

Steve couldn’t sleep as well as he did before. Weeks of tossing and turning could no longer be blamed on a supposedly lumpy mattress. Dustin and Robin had told him time and time again that if he wanted a new mattress he could simply buy a new one. But the mattresses at the store were missing something. They didn’t come with the faint smell of your shampoo, or the wrinkles in the sheets from when you last slept over. 

Nearly two months had passed since you were here, yet everything remained the same in Steve’s bedroom. Your side of the bed was untouched. No matter how much Steve insisted he was getting over you, he still refused to sleep on your side of the bed. 

Steve rolled out of bed and dragged his feet down the stairs. The floors creaked with every heavy step until he made it down to the kitchen. Dust coated the countertop from lack of use aside from a plate of uneaten food here and there. Robin always made sure Steve had food - she’d stop by the local pizzeria at times and buy him a slice. But as soon as she’d leave, he’d push away the plate and go back to bed. 

Steve sat down on the barstool and sighed to himself. To his right sat a half empty cup of coffee. There was nothing special about the cup, it was just a blue cup with a faded “world’s okay-est dad” printed on it from the kids last holiday. But to Steve, it was your cup. Your lipstick was still stained on the rim, faint but still there. God, you didn’t live together officially back then, yet you had designated the left side of the bed and Steve’s yellow sweatshirt as yours, not that Steve minded, though. He loved you, adored you, even. 

If only he told you that when it mattered most. 

–

Steve wasn’t sure why he gave into Robin and Nancy’s idea. Perhaps it was because he was such a pushover for the kids, that nature transferred to them as well. Nonetheless, Steve was heavily regretting it. 

Now, all of Steve’s house was being deeply cleaned to a near perfect state. Nancy suggested throwing a party to get Steve “out of his funk,” as she put it. Anything to help improve his mood, but in reality Steve wanted to do anything but party. He couldn’t when you weren’t by his side, making sure he didn’t drink too much or that he had enough water and food in his stomach. Not when you weren’t pulling him to the middle of the room to dance like no one was watching, or whispering in his ear that you had enough socializing for one night. Those moments, he would look into your eyes and not break away when he called out to everyone that the party was over. Because you were everything to him and anything you said goes. That is until he broke things off with you. 

Why did he ever end things? 

Steve’s mind was racing as he absentmindedly swept the living room floor, dust accumulating at his feet. He didn’t hear Robin’s voice calling out to him until she was literally in front of him, shaking his shoulders. The boy snapped out of his thoughts, flinching at his friend’s rough shaking. 

“Jesus, Rob,” he shook his head. “What do you want?”

Robin rolled her eyes at his hostility and crossed her arms on her chest. “Nancy called,” she deadpanned. “She did the laundry and found a bunch of old crap. She wants to know if she can throw them out or donate them.”

Steve sighed, running his fingers through his uncommonly flat, greasy hair. He had forgotten to shower -once again- but he made a mental note to do so once he finished cleaning the house. “It’s probably my mom’s stuff. I’ll go down to check it out.” 

Handing the broom and dustpan to his friend, Steve casually walked downstairs to meet Nancy. And at that moment, he felt as though his entire world collapsed in front of him. In a way, his world really did. 

Nancy was crouched by the dryer, folding clothes and sorting them as she pleased. At her side was a lime green basket full of Steve’s old sweatshirts and jeans he once had haphazardly strewn across his bedroom floor. Sitting on top of the pile was a faded black Led Zeppelin shirt. The design was barely there anymore, and you could barely make out the words on it. But that didn’t matter to Steve. That was your shirt and not Nancy’s to touch. 

“Hey Steve,” she greeted without looking up from her work. “I set aside a pile of–” 

“What did you do?” Steve yelled, his voice raspy and broken from lack of use. He scrambled to the ground and reached for his band t-shirt. The worn material was thin and frail in his hands, almost to a point where he could pull a thread from the hem and the entire shirt would fall apart. 

Nancy shot up in alarm, not expecting his frantic reaction. “I-I did the laundry-”

“NO!” he cried out. He brought the article of clothing to his nose, desperately trying to smell you, find you, in the shirt but to no avail. All that he could smell was the stupid detergent from the convenience store. 

Tears streamed down his face and onto the cotton, quickly absorbing it and darkening the shirt color. “That was all I had of her,” he sobbed. “How could you, I-I” 

Robin ran down into the laundry room at the sound of Steve yelling. “What’s going on here?” she called, racing to meet her friends. “Nancy what happened?” 

The poor girl only shrugged her shoulders. “I was just finishing up the laundry and Steve flipped out. Something about a memento?” 

Robin stared down at the broken man before her. She could barely recognize him anymore. He was a wreck without you. “y/n’s shirt,” was all Robin could say. 

Closing his eyes, Steve could barely make out the image of you in the rain. You had yet another quarrel with your family and ended up at his doorstep. The fuzzy memory replayed in his head, how you were out of breath from running across town to him, looking for him. How he held you the entire night while you wore that shirt since your original clothes were wet and muddy. You clung to him as if he were your lifeline, and he held you with the same regard. They always said you two were too young to know what love felt or meant. No one understood or felt your hurt the way he did. That’s what made you perfect for each other.

And that’s what made you each other’s poison. 

– 

The debacle was resolved once Steve had fallen asleep in his room, locking himself away for the rest of the afternoon until cleaning had completed. Robin had consoled Nancy after she kicked herself for her mistake, but there was nothing that could be done afterwards. Something Steve had forgotten was that they had lost a friend as well. If he wasn’t your person, Nancy was, the girl glued to the hip wherever you went. And Robin was a little sister to you, the kids, too. You were an essential part of your little group. And now you’re just gone. 

Soon enough, the party started and the Harrington Manor was filled to the brim with drunk high school students or popular has-beens. No one quite knew how they managed to get in, but no one stopped them or cared for that matter. It was a long shot, but Eddie, Nancy, and Robin were grasping at straws to get their Steve back. If a party to reminisce old times brings back his cheerful spark, then they were willing to buy all the booze Hawkins could supply. 

Steve stood by himself in the corner of the main room of the house, nursing his third can of beer of the hour. He was silent, despite the many people coming up in their drunken stupor to greet the supposed host of the party. All he could manage was a fake smile and nod to bore them off. 

All of a sudden, he caught a glimpse of a familiar color of hair. He whipped his head around to follow the shadow, only for it to disappear into the crowd. Steve hurried to push through waves of people dancing to music Steve could only describe as pure trash, to find what he was looking for. After all, could it be? After two months, could a party bring you back to him? 

“y/n!” Steve shouted out, his voice drowned out in the blaring music. “y/n!” 

The shadow did not stop, but neither did Steve. Steve followed it to the backyard, shouting and stumbling as the alcohol in his system began to take over. 

“Steve!” a voice shouted behind him. Steve finally stopped to turn around and see Max staring back at him in disbelief. “What the hell are you yelling about?”

Steve’s hands trembled as he grabbed Max’s shoulders. “y/n,” he whispered. “I saw her, I swore I saw her here. She was right there, I-” 

“Steve,” Max sighed. “She’s not here. She never was.” The teen pointed out at the garden and pool, seeing no one in sight. Truth be told, absolutely no one was there. Not in the party, nor the backyard. Steve’s grief had taken him by storm. Max feared the worst for him.

–

The party finally ended in the early hours of the morning. Steve woke up on the sticky floor of his manor to the sound of his doorbell ringing. The night was a blur to him. He could barely recall when the party started, much as when it ended. There were flashes of blaring lights and music in Steve’s intoxicated mind. His friends had tried to stop him from drinking himself stupid. At one point, Eddie had to catch him off the kitchen counter when he thought he could crowd surf. To put it shortly, his friends had gotten extremely upset with him and left not long after. Not that Steve cared, though. The alcohol in his system and neverending dread prevented him from caring. 

“I can’t keep doing this anymore, Steve,” Robin had yelled over the loud music. Their friends nodded solemnly behind her. “We can’t keep letting you sulk and drink yourself to death. But we can’t help you when you can’t help yourself.”

“Like I care,” Steve slurred, stumbling over himself. Trashy beer dribbled down his chin, onto his expensive sweater. “I didn’t ask you guys to help me. I didn’t ask you to wash her shirt, or clean her side of the bed. I didn’t ask you to help me forget her.” 

“We aren’t telling you to forget her,” Dustin sighed for the millionth time that night. “We just want you to go back to normal.”

Steve plopped down against the wall, his head creating a thud noise against it. “How can I?” he began to cry. “I see her everywhere. It’s like her ghost is still here, dancing through the house.” His friends stared down at him feeling absolutely helpless. The young teens watched pitifully. Steve was their rock throughout it all. He was the strongest person they knew, but now he was broken in a million pieces and there was nothing they could do. 

And now, Steve clumsily stood up and kicked around empty beer cans as he approached the door. 

“Alright,” he grumbled, thinking it was one of his friends. He knew he had to apologize for the things he said that night, but he was hoping he’d get a chance to get over his hangover first. 

The doorbell rang one more time, causing Steve to wince at the pinging noise. “I heard you the first time, for fuck’s sake,” he yelled out. Unlocking the door, the door swung open to reveal not Nancy, or Dustin, or even Robin for that matter. 

“Stevie,” you whispered, teary eyed. You were wearing his yellow sweatshirt and hadn’t changed a bit. From your hair to your stature. You were still his girl.

“y/n,” Steve gasped out.