#cod ghoap x reader

[ilostthewar]

I keep thinking about Omega!Soap who gets this little ridge in his brows when he has to do a task that requires two hands or pulls him away from you. But he will ultimately haul you over and drop you in Alpha!Ghost’s lap for safe keeping.

[random-thot-generator]

Good God 🥵

Can i get a "Have you seen my- oh," with your roommates johnny and simon who're dating?

Specifically Johnny, because we all know he has house training, just chooses to never show it.

It's midday, you're off from work and you're aching to relieve some stress. Around this time is when Johnny gets ready to go to the gym, so you lock your door and pull your pants down.

Your nerves are stretched thin from work, the heavy traffic, your boss that won't get off your ass about a project that's due 2 weeks from now.

And you haven't gotten laid since the guys moved in- so about a year ago. It doesn't help that they're both too good looking and the icing on that cake is that they're dating each other.

You also feel wrong imagining that it's their hands that touch your chest and slick cunt, but nothing gets you off faster, nowadays.

so with a slightly guilty conscience, your hand travels down to your sex, and begins to draw small, light circles on your bundle of nerves, and slowly sink two clever fingers into your swollen entrance.

The door busts wide open, knob slamming into the back wall. "Hey, bonnie, have you seen my- oh."

You locked the fucking door. Right?

"The door wasn't locked," he quickly explains, but his eyes don't stray from where your hand is.

"I'm sure it wasn't, Johnny. Now please get the fuck out."

He instead steps inside, gently closing the door behind him.

Uh oh.

"Need a hand? Ah promise I'm good with them. My mouth too, ask Simon."

Johnny also doesn't wait for you to answer, just brazenly walks to the corner of the bed and crawls his way over until his warm breath fans over your bare pussy.

"Jus' helpin' a friend in need, aye?"

He moves your hand, hissing when he sees thick strings of arousal on your fingertips and licks a flat stripe from your hole to your swollen clit.

oop.

When Simon comes back from whatever the hell he was doing, you're already asleep in your room, drained from the amount of peaks he brought you to with his fingers and tongue.

Johnny drags Simon into the bedroom and pulls him in for a kiss; sliding his tongue into Simon's mouth.

Simon moans when he gets a taste of what he just knows is you.

Heady arousal is strong on Johnny's tongue- and Simon throbs in his pants, yearning for more.

[partiallysame]

Ghost gets no bitches and he reminds me of whatever that TikTok audio is that’s like “how’d you get her?” And the other person is like “get her? No she grabbed me by the throat and told me I was hers”.

Word count: 800

Warnings: none (ghost being immediately whipped)

So hear me out you’re at the grocery store and while walking down the aisles you see this behemoth of a man. Big muscle sexy, surgical mask covering his face. You want. What to say? How should you approach? Ah yes you need help getting something from the top shelf. Stepping so you’re in his line of sight

“Could you come here?” You ask him and he just gives you a blank stare. Raising your eyebrows clearly waiting for a response he turns around looking for who you could be talking to and who is clearly not listening to you. When he sees no one else in the aisle he slowly points at himself, questioning you. “Yes you.” You smile trying to hold in a laugh. Quickly adding a “please” in the sweetest little voice and he is scurrying over to you.

“Could you please reach that box for me?” Ghost raises his arm up and points to a box when you nod confirming that’s the one you want he hands it to you. “That one too please” he obeys. You have him hand you two more boxes (not needing any of them). Then you try to push your luck a little. “Wait not this one” you hand him a box back and he returns it to the shelf. Before you know it you’ve had this man put all the boxes back just to hand them to you again. A smirk plastered on your face. Not once did the large man question you, not when you were looking up at him with those pretty eyes.

“Ok done with this aisle. Come on.” You start walking and his feet are following you. He hasn’t said a word to you but is following you around the store like a puppy. Down the next aisle you pointed at something (well within your reach) and he handed it you.

“Are you always this obedient?” You watched his eyes go wide but he found himself nodding. He’d probably say yes to anything you ask when you’re looking at him like that, like you want to eat him whole. His answer brought a smile to your face and he swore his knees were gonna buckle. You held out your hand, “phone.” It was a statement not a question and he quickly (fumbling) pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. When you saw it was locked you looked up at him moving the phone ever so slightly towards him. You had meant for him to take the phone and unlock it but instead he mumbled out “0000” a small but dramatic gasp left your lips “oh so he does speak.” You typed in the 4 digits and the phone opened. You looked up at him when the basic passcode worked. “Simple and obedient. Just how I like ‘em” ghost swallowed hard. No one has ever treated him like this. Spoke to him like this. Not even Price. He should be offended? Insulted? Definitely not turned on. Right? (mark him down and scared AND horny). You handed his phone back to him, your number and name resting on his screen. He reached to take the phone from you, but you didn’t let go. Fingers touching you looked up at him “you better call me. I’ll be real sad if you dont.” He swore he was gonna pass out. Before you let go of his phone, hands still touching, heavy steps made their way into your aisle.

“Aye lieutenant there ye are. Been wandering round lookin fer ya.” Soap called down the aisle.

Ghost refused to acknowledge his friend calling for him, keeping eye contact with you. Your smile got bigger as you let go of the phone.

“Lieutenant huh? That mean you know how to give orders too?” He nodded again. “Then I’m definitely going to need you to call me. I’d like to see that.” Your eyes shamelessly raked down his figure. Fuck he needs to hold on to something.

Once you finally walked away, Soap approached quickly asking who you were and when ghosted shrugged his shoulders “I don’t know.” (But he’s gonna that’s for sure)

“She’s a fine looking lass I’m gonna go talk to her.” Ghost’s hand moved fast, grabbing the back of Soap’s neck guiding (pushing) him in the opposite direction of you. He was thanking god you saw him first and not Soap. If you had talked to Soap like that, ghost knew you’d have him walking on a leash (who’s he kidding if you had asked ghost would’ve barked)

Part 2 Part 2.5 part 3

[quarterlifekitty]

Lately I’ve been getting a kick outta the idea of Ghost having a girlfriend that Johnny is painfully interested in (tale as old as time). But she a lil neurodivergent and selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!). She’s comfortable enough with Simon that she’ll talk to him when they’re alone, but she won’t say a word to Soap (she doesn’t talk to the other guys either, but you know that Johnny chooses to take it so damned personally).

The worst part is that Soap will say shit to her, and she’ll give Simon her little signal so he can bend down and she can talk to him so fucking quietly. It’s like they speak a different language and Simon is the interpreter. And it’s so infuriating to him because shit like this will happen.

“Ain’t you looking a right picture, bonnie— that dress new? Fits ye like a damned glove, sweetheart.”

You tug on Simon’s sleeve so he can lean down. Soap is rocking back and forth on his heels, anticipating an answer. He’s down so bad, he doesn’t even care that he’ll hear it from Simon’s lips and not yours. You whisper for what feels like minutes on end.

“She says thanks.”

“God damn, L.T.— you know she fuckin’ ‘ad to ‘ave said more than that!” He whines indignantly, Simon smirking. Simon knows all about his little crush, and chooses to let the lad suffer. His time will come when you’re ready.

This goes on and on for months on end— and you know what? It’s hard for Johnny to jerk off to the image of you wedged between him and Ghost when he has no idea what you sound like, moaning or otherwise. You can probably see him half hard in his jeans every time he heads home from a movie night with you and Simon.

“G’night, L.T. Night, hen.” Soap’s almost all the way down the walkway when he hears something almost inaudible over the ambient sounds of the night.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Now that’s gonna keep his fantasies fed for weeks.

[joonieskinks]

simon ghost riley is sometimes a little blunt (warning: smut)

You adore him for who he is, but it still unnerves you with just how blunt he can be at times.

It usually happens privately with just you:

“In about 5 minutes, I’m gonna eat you out.” He says as you are in the middle of The Goblet of Fire on the couch. You almost choked on your popcorn.

Or you’re doing laundry in the morning. “We need pineapple juice next time we’re out, want you to enjoy swallowin next time you’re suckin me off.” Jaw dropped.

He does it in front of the team too- and sometimes it’s even worse:

You accidentally dropped your lip balm onto the bar floor while fishing it out of your purse and bend to pick it up.

“Haven’t seen that angle in a while, dove. It’s been too long since we done doggy.”

It’s a never-ending series of eyebrow raises when Simon decides to open up his mouth and you’re around, needless to say. You brunt all of the embarrassment and the deep blushes, Simon couldn’t give a shit. He didn’t even clock it when John, Johnny and Kyle would all give him shocked looks. Man just owns it. Completely unbothered.

“Youre wearin the skirt you wear when you wanna get fucked. That your goal?”

“Simon!” You hiss, you can feel the red hot heat rush to your face.

But he just stares back at you in earnest, waiting for your response. You can hardly believe how composed he is when his Captain is right there glaring at him.

“So?”

“I need another beer.” John excuses himself, he can’t even look you in the eyes right now. Kyle joins him shortly after making a run for it, but you’re left with a quiet Johnny patiently waiting for you to respond. Eager, almost. Joy.

“You can’t just say things like that in public, especially not in front of your friends!” You lecture, pulling down your skirt in the process.

“Why? If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just said so, love. Give me 2 to down this pint and I’ll meet you in the toilets, yeah?”

“Simon!” You smack his thigh.

“Can I watch?” Johnny asks excitedly.

“No!-“ “Fine.”

Johnny’s face lights up while yours turns slowly to give Simon a death stare.

“Do you want it or not?” You roll your eyes and throw your purse over your shoulder.

“You two are ridiculous.” And they watch you walk away.

Simon only shrugs, pounding back his beer before coming after you. Doesn’t make a difference to him if he fucks you here and now or at home and later.

“… so is that a no?” Johnny asks with puppy eyes.

[goatgoesmbe]

Something, something, Ghoap being freaky in bed, leading to a cockring being stuck at the base of the Scot's cock.

Soap, who refused to let his boyfriend cut the ring himself and called the emergency hotline.

Only for them to send a cute pretty EMT, face flushed a darker hue as you tried to be professional after seeing what the problem was.

Cute lil tongue peeking out of your lips as you focused, gloved hand holding his shaft as the other held a portable saw, carefully cutting through the stubborn metal around his cock.

Ghost, who noticed the way his boyfriend's eyes darkened, his breathing came out in shallow puffs before he swallowed. Somehow getting turned on from having a bonnie thing kneeling between his legs, wielding something that could tear into his flesh.

And you, who were too focused on doing your job properly as to not hurt the Scot, not noticing the way his cock twitched when you held it tighter. Shifting your hold for better access.

Not noticing the other man approaching your figure until you sensed the shadow looming over you.

If you looked up, you would see two pair of eyes, staring at you hungrily.

[omgitstatertot]

Knight!Ghost who comes back from a year of battle to discover Knight!Johnny has taken his place as Princess!Reader's personal guard, and as her lover (He can tell by the way her eyes light up when he talks. By the way, her face flushes, and her fingers grip at her skirts when he sets his hand on the small of her back and leans down to whisper in her ear.)

He has no right to be upset. He did this to himself. He only left because the princess told her she loved him, and he panicked. Immediately, he went to the king that night and had asked him to put him in the war.

But god did it make his blood boil when he caught sight of Johnny's gloved finger linking with hers. It made him damn near irrational when he'd turned a corner going down the hall just in time to catch sight of Johnny pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

But nothing, and I mean NOTHING, made him angrier than when he'd learned that she'd begun to sneak out with him too.

Dress down into the same less commoners dress and slip out the castle walls into the night. Go to the same tavern and dance to the same songs, then breathlessly pull each other into the same room before running back home, laughing the same way as they'd rush to beat the sunrise.

[arabellasfvv]

When you blow johnny and just keep gagging and choking he'll most likely laugh at you. But because you don't just let things slide–that man needs to be put in his place anyway–you pull out one of your dildos, and tell him to suck it. He laughs incredulously at first, though not totally opposedto the idea. But once he saw the expression on your face he knows you're serious. And he was never one to turn down a challenge.

Safe to say he's gagging like a bitch. Can barely take half the thing without tears stinging at his eyes. And if you're mean you tell him, "well, that's pathetic, baby." In a mocking tone. (lt makes his cock twitch dw) and if you're even meaner you decide to 'help out'. Forcing the toy down his throat with your hand. Do it over and over. Like he does when fucking your throat without consideration. He's a mess by the end, sweaty, eyes red with tears flowing from them, drooled all over the toy, down on himself like some mutt. But some time during it he came without even being touched.

He doesn't make fun of you again.

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley who plays dirty. CW : threesome(?), technically cheating but no angst, pussy slap, mentions of masturbation.

Simon hates it when you touch yourself when he's away.

He knows you can't bring yourself the same pleasure he can. So he makes it a rule. No touching yourself unless he's present and has given you permission.

And it goes well for a while. You touch yourself a few times when you aren't supposed to, causing Simon to punish you. Which he enjoys more than he should.

Until you frustratingly become such a good girl, you refuse to touch yourself when Simon's away.

Simon tries everything to get you to fold, he sends you dirty texts, voice messages of him moaning as he stroked his cock, even videos of him stroking his cock. But nothing made you break.

So, he had to bring Johnny into the mix.

It wasn't unusual for Johnny to come by the apartment when Simon was away. Nor was his usual flirtatious personality.

But finding yourself on the couch underneath the scotsman was definitely unusual.

Your mind was mush, eyes rolling back. Johnny had you folded in half, one knee against your chest, the other leg being held over his shoulder.

"She tight as you thought, Johnny?" The familiar gravel of your boyfriend's voice spoke as he dropped his duffel bag by the door.

Your eyes snapped to Simon, your mouth opening to beg for his forgiveness, but whatever you were going to say dissolved into a whorish moan.

"S'fucking tight, LT. Why'd you have to keep 'er from me f'so long?" Johnny groaned.

"You know the rules, lovie. No touching yourself. Think that you could find a loophole by letting Johnny touch you instead?" Simon asked with a sadistic grin. Reaching between you and Johnny, pinching and rubbing at your clit.

"Hah~No! 'm sorry Si!" you beg, tears in your eyes a mix of guilt and pleasure.

"Shhh, no crying, lovie. Johnny's just trying to make you feel good while I was away. He was just taking care of my pet f'me" Simon chuckled, wiping away a stray tear.

You seem to realise that Simon and Johnny were in this together. That Simon wasn't mad at you.

Johnny leaned down and licked a tear off your cheek, growling low in his chest.

"C'mon mutt, you talked such a big game. Make her come like you told me you would" Simon demanded. Johnny nodded, his brows furrowed.

"come f'me Bonnie, come on. Come on my cock" Johnny moaned, pulling your hips flush against his own as he came deep inside you. Hot ropes coating your insides.

You nodded desperately, mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back as you orgasm. A scream of pleasure being ripped from your throat.

You pant and whine weakly as Johnny pulled out. Your eyes snapping open when you feel a harsh slap on your oversensitive cunt. Simon grinning down at you, fishing his cock from his jeans.

"No where near done yet, lovie"

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

just so everyone knows, requests are open! I get stuck for ideas sometimes, so I'd love to hear some of your guys' ideas!

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost: Johnny I- Soap: There is no I in this relationship, LT there is just we Ghost: Alright, we have a crush on Y/N Soap: You're damn right we do!

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Convict!Ghost and innocent!reader who signs up for a program to visit and write letters to convicts without friends or families on the outside. You believe in the program, believe you're acting as a way to anchor a man, who would otherwise be lost, to society.

Ghost pretends you're getting through to him, nods and smiles when you tell him you know he can do better, be better. Meanwhile, he's thinking of all the filthy, depraved things he wants to do to you when he's released, thinking of his friend Soap in the laundry whose specialty is smuggling contraband in and wondering if he can convince you to slip him a nice lil picture of yourself or maybe even a pair of your panties. Soap probably wouldn't even want his usual cut, so long as he can get a look too.

[ilostthewar]

Something something, reverse cowgirl with Simon, your back to his chest with you both seated on the edge of the bed. But Johnny is knelt between your thighs, dragging his tongue over Ghost’s sack to drink up anything that drips from your stuffed hole, slurping over your clit when he gets high enough.

[shotmrmiller]

god going on a date with johnny whom you matched on tinder and he's the type of guy you avoid like the plague; jaw-dropping good looks, cheeky ㅤㅤsmiles, hits the gym more in a week than you've done all year and worst of all, could charm the pants off a snake.

so it's truly no wonder that you end up letting him bury his face between your thighs and lap at your glistening sex until your moans almost turn into screams and you haven't even left the bar's driveway, then left to watch johnny wipe the condensation off the windshield with a spare shirt so he can drive you home all the while his chin drips with your slick.

he fucks you against the front door once inside, legs hooked over his arms, then again over your couch, hand curled around your throat, and again, in front of your full length mirror while he tells you how pretty you look taking all of him, to look at how pretty you look, his crystalline eyes latching onto yours through the reflection, pretty as a peach.

then he leaves you with his spend sticking your thighs together, a languid kiss that tastes of you, and with his personal number on a scrap piece of paper.

and that's the last you hear of him. he'd said that he's quite a busy man, military and whatnot, and all in all, while you'd raked your nails down his back on the first date, it had been a date. you require more than good sex to get into a committed relationship.

a swipe of your thumb brings up tinder again, and you match with another bloke not your type. big, broad man, biceps the size of your thighs with a deadpan stare that sees right through false bravado. but he's doesn't seem to care in the slightest that he makes you nervous, doesn't care that you stutter out responses to his rather abnormal questions.

simon takes you home and sits eerily silent with his hands dwarfing the steering wheel as you chew on your lip before tentatively inviting him in for a nightcap, and you must be the luckiest person on the planet because he's just as devoted to your pleasure as your last partner.

he brings you peak after peak with his tongue, his fingers, swirls your pearl with the tip of his misaligned nose. then he lets you be on top first, concentration knitting your brows togethee as you try to fit all of him in and pride warms your cheeks when you can hear his teeth audibly grind as his fingers bite into the soft of your waist once you take him to the root, thighs flush against his hips.

you come undone more times than you can count, the neighbors more than likely knowing his name by the time he walks out the front door (after checking the locks on your windows) and that's that.

until it isn't because a text from johnny awakens your phone screen, an invite to a restaurant downtown next saturday, one you've only ever fancied of eating at and well-

a date is a date, isn't it?

you tell him to pick you up at seven and he tells you to wear something you wouldn't mind letting him keep underneath, preferably something in red. (must've seen that particular number while you looked for some sleeping shorts before he left that night.)

hopefully you won't feel too bad breaking things off with whoever doesn't ask you to be theirs first.

(simon and johnny fuck each other to the thought of you back at base, simon's fist viciously tight around johnny's cock as he's got him drooling into the flattened pillow, almost like she's fucking you too, eh, johnny?)

[partiallysame]

Soap hits on Ghost's girl part 2

Part 2 to THIS

Word count: 550

The next time Soap sees you is when you come to the base to drop something off for Simon. Soap saw the text pop up on Ghost’s phone while he was in the shower post training. You were waiting for him at the main entrance. You were waiting all alone and Ghost was busy, Soap simply could not leave you waiting for another second, plus he needed to apologize for the last time you met. (Did Soap steal Ghost’s phone so when he got out of the shower he wouldn't know his pretty girlfriend was waiting for him? maybe).

You watched the Scotsman jog towards you, apologies falling from his mouth the second he was within earshot. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean any disrespect. You were jus sittin there all alone. Woulda thought Riley was gonna bring you with em’.” You said his name a few times trying to get him to stop but he was so caught up in trying to “make it right” that he didn’t hear you until you used his last name. 

“MacTavish” the command of your voice almost had him standing at attention. The call of his name had him sucking in his lips, rightfully shutting him up. You reached out to tap his arm, as if to say ‘relax’.

“S’not a big deal Johnny.” you laughed a little, “It was fun playing with you. Just hope Si didn’t give you too much shit about it.” (He did. Soap has been dodging literal punches for weeks now). Your phrasing made Soap smile. 

“You can play wit me anytime you’d like lass.” if he had long hair he’d be twirling it in his fingers right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind MacTavish.” The way you were looking up at him reminded him of why approached you in the bar the first time. Just looking at you and he was smitten. 

The sound of big heavy footsteps made Soap flinch. The second Ghost appeared, Soap bolted behind you. Ghost wouldn’t beat the shit out of him in front of you right? 

“You forgot this hun.” You handed a bag of stuff to Simon who was trying to step around you to get to Soap who was moving in the opposite direction of Ghost. Soap trying his hardest not to grab you to better use you as a shield. You stood still watching the two soldiers behave like children running around you. Ghost finally got his hands on Soap who called out your name, a last ditch effort at protection. 

“Let him go Si.”  His grip might’ve loosened but there was no way he was going to let go. 

“Don’t go taking his side lovie.” He may or may not have a knife behind his back ready to use right now. 

“He’s harmless Riley” You stated, arms crossed but definitely enjoying whatever this situation was.

“Ya. Riley. M’harmless” The grin could be heard in Soap’s voice as Ghost let go of him. 

“Give him back his phone John.” Ghost’s head snapped to Soap who was wide eyed. How’d you know he stole it? When you gave Simon a small peck signaling you were leaving, Soap began to run knowing once you were gone he was no longer safe from Simon Ghost Riley.

[quarterlifekitty]

Still brain rotting over Soap being into Simon’s selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!) gf.

cw: exhibitionism/vouyerism

Things really quietly escalate during movie nights. You’re usually in Simon’s lap, under a blanket. And Simon starts touching you. Johnny notices, his eyes keep flicking to Simon’s arm over your front and wrist leading down beneath the quilt. The first couple of times this happens, he’s able to tear his eyes away and keep his eyes on the tv, and doesn’t mention a thing.

Until he can’t keep it going anymore. You’re watching some shitty sword-and-sorcery movie. A barbarian and a royal knight who have to put aside their differences and join forces to save the princess and the rest of the realm. He doesn’t give a fuck— he was really only keeping his eyes on the screen hoping the princess’s pretty tits would distract him. They don’t.

This time he’s fully staring. The gentle rock of Simon’s wrist. If Soap focuses, he can hear the sound of his fingers in your wet little cunt. You keep your eyes on the movie, while Simon lets his head loll and faces Johnny, lazy smirk creeping into his face.

“She know I can see what yer doin’ to ‘er, LT? Fuck, I can hear it— smell it, even. She ok with that?”

“Was her idea to start with, Johnny.” Soap sucks in a breath and starts palming himself— rock hard in his pants.

“That true, hen? You wanted me to see you gettin’ fucked on Si’s fingers?”

You look to him and nod.

“You mind if I take my cock out, then? A little cruel to show me my best mate knuckle deep in a beautiful girl and expect me t’resist.” You lean back and whisper into Ghost’s ear a bit.

“Says she wants t’see it, sergeant. Wants you to stroke yourself off for us.” The jingling of a belt buckle is immediate and it’s timed perfectly— the barbarian breaking through his chains on screen, able to catch the princess from a fall in the nick of time. Johnny bites his lip hard as he spits and wraps a fist around his cock.

“Fuck— mark m’words, baby, once I hear you say you want me, it’s over for you, bonnie.”

[theorist-fox]

Bug

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

Crossposted on AO3

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Johnny eats you out in front of an audience.

18+

CW: smut (cunnilingus, masturbation, some sexual fantasizing, brief dubcon turning into enthusiastic consent), a bit kinky (voyeurism, exhibitionism) fluffy? sort of, pwp. Soap/Reader established relationship + Simon joining the party I guess

Masterlist 🦊

Your toes are cold. So cold that you think your body might never recover, that maybe you’re bound to be a corpse for the rest of your life.

Dramatic, you’re aware.

And Johnny is so delightfully there, isn’t he? On his side of the bed, in a deep slumber. He’s a heavy sleeper too, so you’re sure you could start sighing and coughing in subtle discomfort and he wouldn’t budge. 

You know his senses are perked when he’s on duty, and you’re glad to know he feels safe enough in the four walls of your home that he turns those alarm bells off.

But goddamnit, now would be a fantastic time to cuddle up. Wonderful to have those thick arms wrapped around your shoulders, his chest to your back. Pressed tight, until the coarse hairs on his abdomen would start to tickle and then scratch a little.

Clicked in place like two puzzle pieces, you’d be, with his knees tucked in the folds of yours, and your ass snug perfectly into his crotch.

And then you’d start rolling your hips slightly. You’d crane your neck back to meet his face, and you know he’d nuzzle your nape for all it’s worth. Sniffing the shampoo in your hair, burying his face until his nose would meet your skin. 

His kisses would be unhurried but open, slow but voracious. They’d make goosebumps sprout from your neck to your thighs, and you’d drench your knickers in the blink of an eye.

By then, his cock would have grown hard against the swell of your ass.

He’d hook his thumbs at the waistband of your pants. Slide his cock through your folds, already wet but now they’d be even more soaked with his prec—

Great.

Now you’re horny. Horny and freezing and frustrated.

Unable to sleep because you’re cold and Johnny forgot to call the plumber for the heating—leaky radiators, a boiler that's been fussing for the past couple of days. Not even taking a shower is safe anymore, for fuck's sake. 

Unable to sleep because you’re dreaming about your boyfriend fucking you into the mattress. Fucking the ice cold seeping into your bones right out of your body, melting it into delicious sweat.

Alas, unable to fuck, because his mate is sleeping on the sofa, and the walls of this stupid flat are thin.

"He’s got mold in his flat", Johnny had told you. "Give it a few days and he’ll go back."

Not. 

It’s been three weeks, and Johnny's lieutenant still hasn’t left. Actually, you think he might’ve moved in altogether,because you’re starting to have less and less space in your closet, and Johnny's socks are mixing up with Simon’s.

But you’d bend and break for your boyfriend, and by extension for whoever he cares about—including his fucking lieutenant. Spooky geezer. Walks quietly around the house and scares the living shite out of you when he materializes in the darkest corners of the room.

It’s not that you hate him. You tolerate him—or, okay, you like him. You would like him even more if it weren’t for the predicament he’s inadvertently stuck you in. 

He is a fun addition to the household and has wonderful chemistry with Johnny. Stores a sharp wit and a repertoire of horrible jokes that somehow make you laugh. He’s clean, buys groceries, cooks meals when you and Johnny aren’t home—he’s a decent flatmate, after all.

But still.

You want to fuck your boyfriend.

“Johnny,” you whisper, turning under the bedsheets to face his way.

Even in the darkness shrouding the room, you can spot his silhouette.

It takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but when you do, you can finally make out the lines of his face. 

He’s sleeping soundly, like nothing can wake him even if it tried. His lips are slightly parted, a habit that comes hand in hand with the crook of his nose—a curve that makes it a bit harder for him to breathe.

You don’t want to be the one who interrupts what looks like a dreamless rest, but it is his fault if the flat feels like you’re sleeping on a slab of ice.

You scoot closer. The tips of your noses touch.

“Johnny,” you whisper again. “Baby, can you wake up?”

Nothing. He doesn’t even flinch.

You kiss him. A swift peck.

“Baaaaby,” you singsong to his lips, quiet yet cheeky.

It’s then that Johnny finally grumbles something. You quickly agitate a victorious fist under the covers.

“I need you to warm me up,” you tell him. “Because I’m too cold and I can’t sleep and it’s your fault.”

There. Evil. Digging your thumb into the guilt wound you’ve carved into his very soft heart. 

Johnny’s eyes flutter open. It takes him a while to adjust. A smack of his lips to hydrate his tongue, the heel of his hand digging into one closed eye. When he comes to, and finally connects the dots, you hear him snort.

“Unbelievable,” he murmurs. “Could’ve grabbed 'nother blanket.”

You frown.

“But you’re warmer than a blanket,” you retort dramatically. “And to get one I’d have to leave the bed, go wander helplessly into the cold, look for it in the da—”

He groans and slaps his arms around you until your face is plastered to his chest.

You press the very cold tip of your nose into the warm skin on his sternum. He flinches.

“Fuckin’ Christ, hen,” Johnny rumbles. “Ye weren't talkin' shite, aye? Proper icicle.”

You giggle. He shushes you as his chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle of his own.

He thinks it's over, then. Thinks he’s done with it now that you’re cuddled up in his arms, and closes his eyes.

But sneaky little you leaves kisses on his chest. The cheeky thing that you are, you press your thigh against his crotch, where he’s half-hard already—but that’s just because of men’s weird physiology, not because he’s horny.

He hums. “Not now, love.”

“Please,” you say, lips dancing about his chest until you reach his nipple.

You tentatively lick there. Johnny hisses and you triumph.

“Please, it’s been so long,” you plead. You purse your lips and suck so gently that Johnny’s hips thrust forward in a twitch, rutting against your thigh.

“He’ll hear us, hen.” He warns, but his voice cracks and you know that you’ve won. 

Simon can handle a few moans just fine, you reckon. He’s old enough.

“Let him,” you mumble to Johnny’s skin. “I don’t care, I miss you.”

You feel his hand reach to the back of your head. Gently, his fingers thread through your hair, massaging softly at your scalp until you’re a puddle in his hold. 

“Aye? Ye don’t care, eh?”

His eyes roam your face. Hooded, already heavy with lust, but a tad more balanced—managing to rein it in, unlike you.

“No.” You insist. “He can fucking watch for all I care.”

Your tongue darts forward, and you lick a stripe bisecting his lips. 

Johnny fucking loses it. 

His hand slides to your nape and holds firmly, enough so he can crash his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You sigh contently in it, no matter how hungry it is—to you this is the most awaited moment in weeks.

Your hands are as frantic as his own. You tug at his pants as he tugs at your shirt. 

Johnny is very tactile, and you just know he wants to touch you thoroughly before he gives you the blessing of a fuck.

In fact, the first thing he does is flatten his palm on your sternum to guide you on your back. His mouth nips and tugs at your lips, then at your jaw. He finds that softer spot on your neck and sucks lovebites on it.

You moan like a slut, without a care in the world. Simon be damned. The neighbors be damned, too.

Johnny's lips finally wrap around your nipple, while his hand plays with your other breast. 

You get louder, and it's a clear sign for that man on the other side of the wall to go and pop in some earbuds because you’re not shutting up tonight.

“You’ve never been this loud I swear to Christ,” Johnny says with a hint of a chuckle that gets lost in your skin. “S’like yer doin’ it on purpose.”

He pinches your belly. “Are you?”

You look down at him. Eyes narrowed. Smirk barely hidden. “No?”

But he can see right through you like you’re made of glass.

“You like it, eh?” He says with a hint of surprise, like he’s discovered a goddamn goldmine. “Oh, you fuckin’ like it.”

And what if you do? What if there's a thrill in knowing the man in the other room might hear you getting railed the way you deserve? Are you deranged for it?

Probably.

But fuck it.

Johnny’s mouth travels lower, from your breasts to the hollow between your ribs, until he’s fully hidden under the covers. 

Instinctively, your fingers thread through his hair. Tight.

Oh, he’s gonna eat you out. 

It’s much easier to quiet down when you’re having sex, because Johnny’s a kisser and he always keeps your mouth busy. But he knows you’re not exactly prim and proper when he makes you cum on his tongue.

He knows what he’s doing, and it’s then that a lightbulb flickers on in your head. 

Bright, excited.

Johnny likes it too.

And you love that he does.

So, since he’s as into this as you are, you settle on giving him the show of a lifetime.

It takes Johnny very little to get to the gist of it. He’d usually nose at your clit through the cotton of your panties, bite at the flesh of your thighs to tease you and get you wet. There’s no need for it this time—your knickers are already past the point of salvation.

He pulls them down and off, not sparing an inch of your skin from the hungry onslaught of lips. Legs draped comfortably over his shoulder, the soft fat of your thighs cushioning his ears.

Johnny dives in.

Your groan scratches your throat when the flat of his tongue lands on your clit. Tingles ripple from your sex to your head—some electric shockwave that makes your toes curl and your throat tight.

You collapse onto the pillow, and you let go.

Johnny licks fat stripes or twirls his tongue around your clit, sucking it in at times. You moan and whimper like cameras are pointing your way, like you want the man who’s stolen your couch, your privacy and your sex life to know how good Johnny’s making you feel.

Your eyes are closed but your mouth is open, fingers curled in a fistful of his hair. 

It’s then that you start riding Johnny’s face. He stays perfectly still, tongue out and conveniently flattened against your sex for you to grind against it.

It’s been so long since you felt him pant against your cunt, so long since you’ve had him tucked between your thighs until your hamstrings ache.

So long that you think you might cum already, and you’re not even five minutes in.

And you feel it in your stomach first, taut and clenching. You feel your orgasm grow as Johnny allows you to take it from him, handing you the reins of your own pleasure.

“M’gonna cum,” you breathe.

The only way you know that he’s heard you from beneath the duvet is because a muted groan echoes from somewhere below you, and his fingers tighten around your hips.

“Gonna fuck her after this, Johnny?” 

Your orgasm withers, but not as much as your heart.

You jolt away from your boyfriend even though you're suddenly petrified, scrambling in an attempt to pull away from his tongue.

But he doesn’t let you go—no. 

Johnny, the bastard, holds you with a resolve you’ve never witnessed before, and uses one hand to quickly shove the duvet off both your bodies.

Cold air slaps your bare skin. Gooseflesh rises at the first icy touch, nipples perked and hard. Your eyes automatically follow the voice in the dark, until they land on a shadow lingering at the door—broad shoulders filling the entryway of your bedroom. 

As soon as your vision adjusts, you focus better on it. A pale face stands out on top of a body clad in charcoal black. A hand, you see, palms at the crotch of his sweatpants.

“Johnny—” You say, or try, in between pants.

His eyes finally poke from between your legs. Swiftly, his fingers take the place of his tongue, rolling more languid circles on the knot of clit—throbbing as your orgasm is rudely snatched away. 

You whine at both the loss of his mouth and the discomfort of being watched.

And yet why aren’t you trying to cover yourself? Why are you still there, naked, back arched to press further into Johnny’s hand, with your fingers uselessly grasping the sheets at your sides?

“Let him watch, bonnie. You said it yerself, aye?” Johnny coos softly.

He can fucking watch for all I care. 

Fuck. You. And your big mouth.

He presses kisses along the stretch marks of your thighs. “Bet he’s not seen a beauty like ye since Christ was born.”

“Cut it out, MacTavish,” Simon barks from the dark corner he's carved for himself. 

In response, Johnny’s breathy chuckle hits your skin.

And while your vision might be compromised, your hearing isn’t. You can clearly hear the soft thud of socks against the hardwood floor. You can definitely feel him looming next to the bed.

You have to blink furiously when Simon turns on the nightlamp, bathing your body in yellow light. 

His eyes, darker than Johnny’s, take you in as you writhe under your boyfriend’s skilled fingers.

You sigh helplessly. “Fuck.”

Perhaps this is too much. Perhaps you’re not ready. And yet—

Simon’s hand grabs a handful of his cock through his sweatpants. You can see the outline of it, fat and straining against the grip of his fingers. A sight so delicious it makes your mouth water.

Your boyfriend catches on the exchange of looks. The way your eyes drop to his lieutenant’s cock. His fingers slow down—and as enraptured as you are, you don’t notice the smile that blooms on his cheeks.

“What d’you want him to do, hen?” Johnny pitches in, finally diluting the soupy mess of your thoughts to reveal what this truly is.

A spotlight on you.

Both men are starving to see, touch, taste. This is heaven, even for an introvert such as yourself. 

Small bug on the wall, observing—for once, observed.

Suddenly, you want that. You want to see them both kneel for you and study your body to learn how to keep it warm, sated, happy.

“Touch yourself,” you whisper before you can think.

Warmth licks at your neck when your own voice reaches your ears.

You swivel your eyes to Johnny again, who’s looking at you with a dangerous glint in his eye—enjoying every bump on your body that rises from the cold, every shiver his fingers cause to wreck your spine.

“You heard her LT,” Johnny says at length.

And before you can utter a word, his mouth returns on you.

Your voice breaks into a moan, eyes rolled back. There’s an insistent fizz in your ears, like there are suds stuck in there. 

Simon’s “Yes ma’am” barely makes it through. 

Slow blinking yourself back to reality, you manage to focus on Simon’s hand which is now stroking his bare cock. Tip a furious red, glossy with precum he smears down his length.

Fuck, you’d pay good fucking money to have it on your tongue, but you’re not in the right headspace yet. You find yourself content with the idea that he’s that hard and that leaking just because you look that hot to his eyes.

Perhaps this is a first step. And it's okay.

It’s invigorating. You love it to bits. So much so that, once again, you hear yourself say “Touch me.”

Johnny’s chuckle vibrates against your clit, but he doesn’t stop. He palms at your lower stomach as he eats you out, keeping you still and comfortable, until you feel your thighs tremble.

The mattress dips under Simon’s weight when he comes to kneel right beside you. The anticipation might kill you, and you’re so focused on him that you don’t realize how impending your orgasm is.

A big hand comes to touch your lips. Simon fits two fingers into your inviting mouth, and you don’t fight it when he touches the back of your throat. 

Instead, you moan at his praise of “Good girl” slipping hoarsely past his lips.

He pulls them out and uses your own spit to lubricate the head of his cock. His cheeks glow red, mouth parted to catch his breath—you never thought a man as apparently indifferent as him could look so delightfully affected.

All because you took his fingers in your mouth like a champ.

You almost cum there and then.

His other hand comes to thumb your nipple. He pinches it, toys with it. He cups your breast in his big hand and squeezes softly just to feel the softness of it. 

He rises upwards, then. Curls those same fingers at the base of your throat in a grip that progressively tightens, until he can hear your breath get stuck in your throat.

It’s then that you cum. 

With the sound of Johnny’s mouth sucking at your clit. With the wet noises of Simon’s cock being tugged in rapid strokes, as if he’s forcing himself to cum earlier than intended.

Your orgasm is so strong that your mind blanks for a moment, not registering the way your voice breaks as you catch your breath again.

Not registering when sudden wetness paints your tits and puddles at your stomach, followed by a groan so loud that it breaks through the fog in your brain. 

When you come to, you blink at the ceiling. 

Your heart pounds viciously, so much that you can feel it on your tongue. It’s wonderful and it would be embarrassing, your current position, if it weren’t for Johnny’s face coming into view.

His lips land fondly on the tip of your nose. “Yer gorgeous when you cum.”

And you smile.

It broadens when another voice joins in, lower and panting, “Affirm. Fuckin’ lovely.”

As you reach down between your and Johnny's bodies with a trembling hand, if only to return the favor, he gently swats it away. However, your fingers make it just in time to feel his softening cock, how wet it is at the tip.

You bet there's a twinning stain on the sheets, too.

“Wee bit at a time, aye?” He offers, kissing your cheek. 

You don’t dare to rebut, as spent as you are. Instead, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

Your eyes blink closed. 

"Did you cum?" You ask dumbly.

"'Course I did." Johnny nibbles at your lip. "Ye taste like fuckin' heaven."

You giggle, obviously flattered, though it sounds quite weak, sleep already taking over your brain.

"You could've fucked me," you tease.

"Nah," Johnny replies, leaving a fat kiss on your mouth. "Woulda killed Simon to see ye—"

"That'll do, Johnny," Simon cuts in.

He doesn't sound angry—more exasperated than anything. He's still panting, though.

You crack one eye open and find him unabashedly staring at his cum dripping down the valley of your breasts.

His hand lands on your forehead, then, brushing back the hair that has stuck to it. It's awkward, like he's not sure what to do but still wants to check in on your well-being.

Through the fog of pure ecstasy, you think he wants to feel somewhat included. Which is why you reach out, your fingers searching blindly for somewhere to land. You find his thigh, the soft fabric of his sweats, and squeeze.

He tenses beneath your palm, but the muscles relax soon afterwards. Welcoming the touch—perhaps welcoming you altogether.

"Tired, aye?" Simon whispers, sounding uncharacteristically tender.

"Yeah," you reply wearily, though his was more of a rhetorical question.

You're too fucked out to realize it. Or to care about realizing it at all.

The comfortable silence that has settled in the room is broken by the shuffle of sheets. The creek of the mattress.

Simon disappears beyond the threshold of the room, only to return moments later with a warm towel in hand.

You get cleaned and pampered, dressed back into your comfy pjs. Sandwiched, at some point, by four arms instead of two, six legs intertwined instead of four.

Your toes are still cold, but the rest of you isn’t.

And you think it can't get any better than this, as you fall back asleep. 

Written for February writing challenge, to fill the prompt "Ghoap x Reader body heat trope"