#ghoap x reader

[cod-bin]

ghoap x reader cuddles (sfw)

– simon always ends up behind you. doesn’t matter if you start out somewhere else. you roll over, and he’s already there, arm around your waist, nose pressed into your hair like it’s the only way he knows how to breathe.

– johnny stretches out like a dog in the sun, limbs everywhere, grinning like he’s got everything he’s ever wanted. which he does. you and simon tangled around him, tucked into the soft hum of silence.

– simon doesn’t talk much when it’s like this. just hums sometimes, like a low rumble in his chest. you think it means he’s content.

– johnny tells you stories. nonsense ones. makes up a whole fake movie plot about a dog detective just to make you laugh while simon gently tucks your shirt down over your lower back, keeping the warmth in.

– sometimes simon kisses the top of your head and you think he might be whispering something, but it’s too soft to hear.

– johnny kisses your cheek like it’s a game. keeps count. “that’s eleven. twelve. thirteen. no, don’t laugh, i’m aiming for a record.”

– simon’s hand fits perfectly over your ribcage. not squeezing, just resting there. like he’s grounding himself. like he needs to feel you breathing.

– johnny drags the blanket up over your shoulders when you start to shiver. presses a kiss to your nose and tucks himself closer, all warm skin and sleepy affection.

– sometimes simon falls asleep first. buried in your hair, chest to your back, arm locked around your waist. and johnny looks over you both, all soft-eyed and stupid in love, and says something like, “he’s got it bad, yeah?”

– he does. they both do. and so do you.

☆taglist☆

@poshestpigeon @avgdestitute @eremika104 @lostintransist @little-mini-me-world @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @h0lydrag0ns

a/n: i love them your honor

[girl-lostconnection]

Elden Ring AU in the end of it all be like…

Surely big knight can handle them...

Pt 2

Tip jar

[softaestluv]

Three’s A Crowd | Mlist

When you moved into your new apartment complex you thought your biggest concern would be something practical such as mold in the shower or weak water pressure. Maybe even the smell of lingering cigarette smoke or marijuana from previous tenants.

You never expected it to be your neighbors who seemed to have a sex drive that rivaled any succubus or horned college teenager.

Ghoap x Neighbor! Reader

Please heed tags before each chapter as this story is 18+ & contains NSFW content

11.5K words | 5 chapters | Complete

⤷ Noise Complaints

⤷ Dirty Laundry

⤷ Riley

⤷ House Warming Gift

⤷ Succumbed

ao3 | main masterlist

[thundersoothers]

Ghoap neighbors who fall in love with you and you know they’re dating so you are extremely confused by them seeming to be coming onto you. And of course they are bad at communicating and making their intentions clear, so that makes it worse.

And you’re not a home wrecker, not at all. So you feel guilty for how much you enjoy Soap flirting with you and his hands lingering just an inch too low on your back to be appropriate and the way he grins, nasty and wide, when his fingertips linger on your spine and you visibly shudder.

And how Simon will crowd you and you get visibly flustered, but he doesn’t back away from you and will lean down closer while you try not to slide down the wall, and he clearly enjoys how you struggle to breathe and make eye contact with him.

And then, of course, somehow one thing leads to another, and you end up getting fucked by your two neighbors who are boyfriends who make out above you with each other as they fuck your cunt and your mouth Eiffel Tower style, then Ghost fucks Soap from behind as he eats you out as you lay back on the pillows so you can watch Soap get fucked, then Ghost and Soap both fuck you at the same time, DP in your ass and pussy.

And then you end up being the girlfriend of two boyfriends before you even really know how it happened. Like, “This is my boyfriend, Johnny, and that’s his boyfriend, Simon.��

[cod-indulgences]

Idea. Ghoap x reader but Johnnys only there for the sole purpose of getting sloppy seconds. Like he doesn’t get to fuck you just gets to watch as ghost fucks the shit out of you and Johnny just gets to suck on your tits and make out with you. And when ghost is done Johnny eats you out and licks up Simon cum. Then sucks Simon off or gets fucked by him as he eats you out. Thank you for listening to my fucked up ideas 💗

Ghoap x female!reader, threesome, sub!Johnny, sub!reader (ish), orgasm denial, light bondage, light degradation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral

Simon is fucking you so deep, his cock slamming into places it has no business being, that you're nearly brainless from it- he's got you flat on your belly, ass arched up, head hanging down off the bed and drooling.

It's insane, it's every muscle in your body squeezing down and in against his cock, your clit a hard aching little point throbbing with your heartbeat- it's your eyelids fluttering as Johnny sucks on your tongue, panting into your mouth as you moan, bouncing back and forth across the mattress, his cock hard and leaking as he sucks and licks and swears against your neck, unable to touch himself, his hands caught up with ropes behind his back.

You cry out as you come again, pussy quivering, and Simon grunts and shoves his cock in, holding it in place, letting your body squeeze it, begging for his come in your pussy. Johnny fucking whines, hips rocking as he thrusts into empty air, and you moan when Simon pulls out and rolls you over.

"Need something, Johnny?" He rumbles, and when Johnny clambers up to the bed, helps the other man straddle your chest, his cock settling between your breasts.

He moans in relief as he thrusts between them, the channel slick with sweat, and you whimper as you lift your breasts up a little, making it tighter, warmer. Simon's hand slides around Johnny's front as he starts fucking you again, hips aching as they're spread open around him, and grips the base of Johnny's cock.

"Not 'til I say," he warns, and Johnny moans, wordless, precome leaking over your breasts. "You're here to clean up my messes, yeah? 'S why you're called Soap. Cleaning up everyone else's come and not having any for yourself." His hips buck in, still deep and heavy, but now your clit is rubbing against his groin on each thrust, dragging you back to the edge again.

You whine and squirm, overstimulated, but you can't move with Simon between your legs and Johnny on your chest. He's fucking your tits gently, slowly, panting as Simon's fingers flex and squeeze the base of his cock.

You can just barely get your chin down and lick the head of his cock, precome bursting salty on your tongue, and Johnny shudders, eyes squeezing shut as he visibly holds himself back. Simon chuckles, kissing his shoulder. "Good lad," he praises, "doing so good f'r me. I know you wanna paint those pretty tits, fuck that cheeky little mouth-" Johnny twists in his grip, "-you'll get yours, just as soon as I'm done with mine." He lets Johnny go, rolls him onto his back with his cock leaking a sticky trail over his belly, and hauls both your legs up and together against his chest.

Then he leans down, your legs folding against your body, and you scream as he fucks you to pieces, pinned down under his weight, a hole to fuck and fill up, pussy squelching and clit aching as the head of his cock spears your cunt open, shoves up and against your g-spot, thick hard wet hot. Your limbs are held still, your heart thundering, and all the burning, impossible need to flex and move your body winds down into a point deep in your belly that ignites, blazing up, and you feel the distant, disconnected gush of your come against Simon, hear his swearing and choked moans as your cunt drags him into coming with you, filling you up, your eyes rolling back.

You lay there, panting, as Simon pulls out, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs as you come down, soothing the quivering muscles. You can feel the wet slick mess between your legs, the way your pussy feels soft and pounded, oversensitive, and Simon shushes you as you moan and try to close your legs.

"Not yet, darlin', Soap's been waiting for his," he reminds you, and you blink through teary lashes and manage to shove up onto your elbows. Johnny is staring at your pussy like a starving man, drool in the corner of his mouth, and when he wriggles down the bed to get his head between your open knees you sob, laying back helplessly, feeling his breath hot over your clit.

His tongue is wonderful-horrible on your pussy, so soft and sweet, slurping up the mix of come and fluids leaking out of you- and so hot, so thick as it flicks over your clit and fucks into your hole, your legs slamming together around his ears as your hips buck up, making him ride your cunt, moaning as overstimulation builds into something sharper than pleasure.

He's going harder, sucking at your folds, messily panting and moaning into you as he fights to stay in place, to breathe through the slick flesh, cock humping the bed mindlessly. You dare to glance down and see his face bright red, smeared with wet, his eyes huge and dark and far away, lost to the body needs and the desire.

Simon gropes your tits, pinching your nipples and tugging just enough that you shiver with it, clutching at the sheets under you, and places a kiss on your open mouth. "There's a girl, let go," he murmurs. "Go on, I've got you, don't fight it," and you moan into his mouth, back arching, hands coming down to cling to Johnny as he gets his tongue curling over your clit again, hot sharp pressure in your belly and down your spine, another orgasm coming on too fast and hard- unable to do anything but let it take you- you belly clenches down, thighs squeezing hard, and a long, wavering cry slides from your throat as Soap groans deep in his chest, eyes rolling back as he's suffocated against you, pinned in place, slick and come a thick clinging film across his nose and into his mouth.

You can't stop yourself from using his face just a moment more, shivering through the breaking wave, holding him in place until at last your body releases you, letting your legs fall apart and hands unclench.

Johnny drags in a breath, coughing, and doesn't fight at all when Simon gets behind him, holds him up, gets a hand on his cock where it's so hard and wet it's dripping a solid line of precome, the head purple. Simon kisses Johnny's throat, his cheek, licks a string of slick off his lips, and feeds just the tip of his cock into your pussy.

You whimper, shaking, too limp to do anything but take it, let Simon fuck you with Johnny's cock, nudging it in and out just that little bit so that your poor pussy flutters around it.

"Give it to her, love, she needs it- so soft and wet, don't need much do you, just the tip to get her all fucked full again," he murmurs, kissing Johnny again just next to his soft, deep dark eyes, and you watch Johnny as shudders and breaks open, his cock pulsing rope after rope of come into you as Simon jerks him through it, your pussy clinging to the head of his cock, all the wet hot mess of him pouring in and dripping out.

You open your arms up for him when he finishes, whimpering as Simon gives him a last stroke, and Johnny collapses onto you. You roll him a little, to avoid being squished, and press your foreheads together, nuzzling little kisses against his face, tasting yourself and Simon. He's gone so deep he doesn't seem to register it, eyelashes fluttering as Simon unbinds his hands, tucks up against his back, all three of you sideways on the bed, sheets rucked up and damp, pillows all lost somewhere else.

You reach around Johnny to get a hand on Simon, cradling the side of his cheek, feeling him smile. "Good, baby?" He asks, and you mumble something back, already feeling the drag of sleep against you. You'll doze a little then clean up until Johnny comes back to himself, let Simon get a little rest after all his hard work- a labor of love, you think, and fall asleep with them smiling.

[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.”

[ilium-ilia]

As Your Skin Gives

ghoap x fem!reader | pet!au | masterlist

Chapter Nine: savior

tw: non-con

That night, you sleep in the kennel. 

It’s supposed to be Simon’s punishment for you—an unfortunate comeuppance for hurting his boy the way you did—denying you the warm bed he so benevolently gave you like any good owner would. Johnny’s blood still stains you. His swirling fingerprints burn into the dips of your hips as they dry a dull brown. This evidence of your transgression further taints you—as if the seed burrowing into your womb isn’t enough. As if you haven’t been ruined well past the point of fixing. 

Johnny and Simon hold one another like lovers. Watching them from between the bars of your kennel, you realize you don’t think you’ve ever heard either of them speak so softly. Wolves and rabid dogs are always so vicious to humans that you often forget just how soft they can be with members of their pack. Tangled limbs, lips smacking against skin, gentle whispers—they sleep soundly while you nurse scrapes and bruises. Licking your wounds, you wonder if you’ve also become more dog than human; if they’ve forced this transformation on you after giving you no other way to survive. Evolving just to better take their beatings.

In reality, the thin padding and stiff bars that make up your bed are more comforting than either of them have ever been, and you sleep as well as your body aches allow you to. Come morning, it hurts worse. Battered knees scraped from the hardwood floor, achy hips and lower back, a throbbing pain in the side of your face. Nothing beats the wound in the pit of you. The bleeding that taints the insides of your thighs. The screaming of your cervix. Johnny chewed you up from the inside out and slept like a log afterwards. 

Why wouldn’t he? He got what he wanted from you. 

Heavy feet hit the ground, stirring your eyes until they open, and you see Simon’s figure towering over you. Johnny lays behind him on the bed, toned and scarred back gently rising and falling with each of his sleeping breaths. Your vision becomes obscured as Simon kneels, fingers lazily undoing the lock on your kennel before swinging the door open. His lips pull into a bitter line as he stares at you, virulent eyes still unimpressed with your actions last night. 

“Up,” he orders bluntly. 

Disobeying him is not a choice, so you crawl. Fatigued arms push your body off the floor while your hands and knees shake as you pull yourself out from the bars that held you captive all night—he watches you squirm. Takes joy in the way you wince as you push yourself to your feet. He does not offer you help, nor does he bark at you to go faster, he is just there. Some malevolent being that gets off on the way you stand, doubled over with your hands resting on your stomach because maybe if you can hold the aching parts of you together, then you can prevent the throe from killing you. 

“Bathroom. Go on,” he says, pointing toward the door. 

Trudging out of the bedroom feels like a funeral procession with Simon looming behind you the way he does. Stalking. Pushing you around as if you’re some toy. A dog. Bonnie. Anything but yourself. Forever called by the wrong name instead of the one your parents gave you, the one your mother always whispered to you in the night when the nightmares came to haunt you. 

Simon runs the bath and motions for you to get in while it’s filling up. Frigid tile cools your feverish skin, and for a fleeting moment it feels emollient against your aches and bruises before it bites. Such little reprieve. It’s a fleeting sense of comfort that dissipates the moment he begins to clean you up, rough hands scrubbing away dried blood and sour sweat. You flinch when his fingers run between your thighs, cunt terribly swollen and throbbing with each beat of your heart. He huffs, annoyed with your pain—as if the events of last night shouldn’t have hurt you at all—and he continues despite it. 

He presses between your labia, clearing out the stale blood and congealed cum. Each swipe leaves you cleaner, yet you’ve never felt more squalid. There’s a taint that runs bone deep inside of you—you’d have to destroy yourself to get rid of it. Lay your bones out to bleach in the sun and to be picked clean by the birds who mock you from the window; maybe then you’d finally be free from this filth. 

Next, it’s your hands. You recall his promise to you as he scrubs the grime off of your palms; how he would break every bone in your body if you ever hurt Johnny again. He’s thinking of it too—you’re certain of it. There’s too much time he spends languidly cleansing something that was hardly filthy to begin with. He wants to. He has to. Craves feeling the fracture of your fingers in the meat of his hand. You wonder if there will ever come a time where you’re no longer Johnny’s toy, but Simon’s punching bag. Something to bend and squeal for him when his scorn swells too large for him to hide and the poor mutt has grown too bored with you to care. 

“No more accidents,” he says. Dark eyes scan your face as he drops your hand, arm lifelessly falling into the water behind it. When you swallow, the collar around your throat only seems to grow tighter. 

“No more accidents,” you repeat. 

You hardly see much of Johnny once you’re finished with your bath. He stays hidden behind closed doors with Simon in the darkened bedroom well out of sight. Limp and lifeless, he lays on his stomach with a pack of ice resting on the back of his neck. The skin beneath it reddens into a dusty pink, skin freezing beneath its algid presence. It’s the last you’re allowed to view of him before you’re done dressing and Simon locks you out of the room. 

You look this manna in the face and take it, making sure to hold it close as you curl up on the old sofa in the living room. There is a stain on the floor that is not visible to the naked eye, but you feel its presence linger. It’s acrid. Seeps into your skin until it strangles you worse than your collar. Worse than a deadly pair of hands. You stare at that spot where you were defiled—where football announcers and crowds cheered, egging on your abusers as you were torn to shreds; devoured, blood and all. 

This is dead air. A rot that needs to be expunged. 

A creak accompanies the window as you open it, airing out the room and all its sins. A summer storm looms in the distance as caliginous clouds gather overhead, skirting so low they nearly brush against the towering treetops of the woods you’ve found yourself trapped in for these countless weeks. Wind tugs at the loose branches and thin leaves of the willow tree in the garden, and you notice your bouquet has wilted in its shade. Shriveled stems. Curled petals like flies rotting in a forgotten home. The beautiful flowers have been dead for quite some time. Would it have been better to bring them inside? To keep nourishing them?

You shake your head. 

No. It wouldn’t have been. 

Johnny does not join you for dinner—it is just you and Simon. Head lowered, you eat your meal quietly so as to not rouse the beast sitting across from you, but you already have. Each bite he shovels into his mouth is accompanied by an unwavering gaze, eyes like shadow boring through you, as if each chomp of his maw is meant for you and not his food. It is a miracle that he allows you to leave the dining room without a chunk of flesh missing. 

Rain begins just as the gloam settles and smothers the thick foliage of the forest in bitter penumbra. You watch as droplets tap against the window and as you focus on your reflection in the glass, you pretend as if the streams of water are the tears you cannot afford to sob. Simon calling your name—fake name, terrible name, wretched name—drowns out the pitter patter of drops like nails on a chalkboard, and your shoulders involuntarily hunch at the clamor. It’s firm. Cutting. You turn as his monstrous feet stomp down the hallway, and when he enters the room he stares through you. 

“Bed time, Bonnie,” he urges. 

Johnny’s hiding his face from the lamp on the nightstand. Nose nuzzling underneath his arm, face buried into his pillow—he looks like a corpse. Motionless. His body hardly shifts with his breaths and the smallest sense of pity flickers through you. There was so much blood last night. It covered you like a wool blanket. 

How badly did you hurt him? Why are you finding yourself caring? 

Laying next to him feels like lowering yourself into a grave. Blankets cover your form like tightly packed dirt holding your casket down, and you stay frozen well after Simon kills the light. But your heart doesn’t. It thrashes and squirms in your chest, attempting to break out of its confinement and run. To do the very thing you are not strong enough to do. 

You are a good person. At least, that’s what you’ve been told. A kind smile and a heart of gold—maybe that’s why you’re in this mess. Too polite to call out the creep lurking in the corner at the pub, that hunter tracking down fresh meat just by scent alone. He’s ripped out that heart and smelted the metal down into the chains that bind you to the mutt that rests next to you. 

If you were a bad person, perhaps you’d still be living. 

In the morning, after Simon has gone to work and the sun has risen just high enough to dance across his skin, Johnny wakes. It comes slow like a gentle drip from a faucet. Trickling. His eyes flutter open where they’re met with the view of your face. Slightly chapped lips and a light abrasion on your cheek etch and scratch out the kinder features of your skin. 

His touch is light but your sleep is lighter; a fragile thing that easily shatters at a mere glance. Bleary vision slowly fills with his face as he thumbs over your cheek. You try not to flinch at the sting. He whispers a good morning to you, but you stay silent as you study him. Bloodshot eyes contrast dramatically against his crystalline irises, but there is no mark on his nose. Not a hint of discoloration or scratch—no memory of your transgression except for in your own skin. 

“I’m not mad at you,” Johnny whispers. “For hitting me. I know it was an accident.” 

You swallow. It’s not surprising that Johnny isn’t mad. He never seemed mad or upset at anything since you’ve known him, and you don’t think he’s capable of it. Always kind despite his bite. Always looking at you with soft eyes and pouting lips. You are glad. Rage is better suited for Simon, the monster who can’t seem to stand being near you. 

“I was worried about you,” you whisper back. It’s only half a lie. Curious is perhaps a better replacement for worried. Confused as to why he had spent the entire day rotting away. 

“No need to worry. Just had a migraine. I get them sometimes. It wasn’t because of you, I promise. I’ve been hit harder than that,” he chuckles. 

A gentle simper pulls at your lips, but it hurts. Achy, unused muscles contort the raw skin of your cheek, and it vanishes just as soon as it appears. You study him, scrutinize every detail of his face until you land back on that small keloid by his temple. It’s magnetic, the way it pulls you in. Fingers gracing against the puffy scar, you trace it as if you can read the story in the damaged cells. 

“I guess you have.” It’s supposed to be humorous, but it falls flatly out of your mouth. 

His eyes widen. Dilate until that oceanic blue is swallowed up by the void of his pupils. He leans into your touch, trying to soak up all the affection that isn’t there, and he moves closer. Hot breath fans across your face and you find yourself stiffening—a prey being stalked by a predator. 

“I wasn’t hit here,” he admits. “I was shot.” 

“Shot?” you repeat. 

He nods, face nuzzling closer to yours. His admittance puts a pit in your stomach. Something with twisting roots that don’t care that they’ve run out of space in your stomach. They travel up—burrowing deep into your esophagus until you’re choking on your words. 

“Who did that?” you question cautiously. 

Johnny’s throat bobs underneath his collar as he stares at you. Eyelids flutter as his gaze darts around your face like he’s watching a movie. A scene by scene replay of something he can’t look away from. His thumb drops from your cheek and instead clasps over your hand, pressing your fingers into him. 

“A bad man. A very bad man,” he whispers. “But don’t worry. Simon saved me.”

Closing his eyes, Johnny sighs long and deep, relishing your softness against the abrasive scar you caress. It’s only a microdose of what he truly desires. More. Always more. This insatiable being. His hand falls from yours, palm resting flat on the mattress as the two of you lay in silence. 

Quiet trepidation bubbles in your stomach as you continue to trace over that scar. This entry wound. You think of Simon’s rifle and your stomach turns so violently your vision begins to darken. No, Simon wouldn’t hurt him. Couldn’t. It would ruin him to hurt his obedient pet in such a way. Look at what he did to you over a bloody nose. Surely he wouldn’t stand for a fractured skull. 

Surely.

Your hand retracts from his skin as if the very thought alone ignites your DNA. Burns your neurons and nerves until you’re nothing but a body filled with soot and ash. A pyre waiting to be lit. 

Johnny mourns the loss of your touch, and his dull eyes open once again. He stares into nothing. Into some forgotten space behind you as if you’re cellophane. His fingers begin to wander, and for the first time, it’s not toward you. Nails scrape against soft bedding as he touches the leather clasped around his throat. Muscles tense and freeze, pulse throbbing to the point you can see it jut out of his skin. He thumbs over his nametag like it’s the first time he’s ever felt it. 

“This is home. Simon saved me. Just like he saved you.” 

A reminder, you realize—but to you, or to him?

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here

[superhoeva]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞)

prisoners!ghoap x civilian!reader x ex-cons!pricegaz | simon really needs johnny to stop talking. you meet some familiar strangers. (w/c: 2.1k)

warnings include: dark content, prisoners!ghoap, excons!price gaz, light ghoap smut, rough sex, unprotected sex, johnny's dirty mouth, language, simon being a hypocrite and a hothead, age gap (late 20s/40s), heavy petting, bodily fluids (mentioned), improper/taboo relationships (prisoner/worker), cheating, loser boyfriend behaviors (again), illegal activities, corruption, violence, injury (mentioned), unsatisfying sex, masturbation (fingering)

< previous part | masterlist(s)

Simon likes Alex.

Alex doesn’t mind if the inmates don’t walk in a straight line on the way back from meals. Alex minded his business the first time he caught Simon with his cock down Johnny’s throat one afternoon. Alex brings him and a few other lucky blokes whatever their heart–within reason–desires.

Sneaks it in, rather. All for a price, of course.

“You’re still good for the painting, right?”

Ghost pauses, turning to Alex with a look that reads the fuck are you on about? A small grin lightens Alex’s face before it falls into an uncertain frown.

“The painting. The portrait ” the guard reminds Simon but he still doesn’t budge. This is fun for him, even if the expression on his face is its usual glower. “For my fiance, man. Our anniversary’s next week, you’d said you have it ready for me to give her.”

Simon gives Alex five more seconds to stew in his panic before softening his face and clapping Alex on the arm. Ha .

“Just fuckin’ with you, Keller. ‘S hung up right now, nearly dry. Should be ready tomorrow.”

“Fuck you,” Alex shakes his head, huffing out a breath of relief.

“Buy me some dinner, then we’ll talk–”

“Yo. Simon, right?”

All of the humor, as little as it was, fades from Ghost. Both he and Keller tow their gazes to an awaiting face. A face Simon is two seconds from caving in.

It’s a kid. Well, a kid to Simon. He’s a little thing, far too skinny to have been in here for long, and his head still fresh from the mandatory buzzcut they make all inmates receive the week of their arrival.

When Simon doesn’t respond, the kid is stupid enough to try again.

“Simon… Simon Riley?”

With the look Simon’s sending him, the kid’s question falters into a nervous whisper. Ghost’s look is dark. More grim than death. The scars on his lip and the clenching of the fists around the bag thrown over his shoulder make it so much worse.

Alex cuts his eyes between the two with held breath and doesn’t exhale when Simon mumbles out a mean-sounding grunt.

“I heard you’re the guy to speak to if I wanna, uh, move some stuff inside…”

The long, long breath Simon sucks in does nothing to stop the flame that threatens to ignite the wrath building inside him. He keeps his stare with a large step forward, knocking into the kid’s shoulder so hard that the smaller man falls with a painfully loud thud. No one attempts to help the guy up off the ground. Most just look and are happy it isn’t one of them.

Alex huffs a quiet sigh, following after a stomping Simon who doesn’t bother with so much as a glance back at the boy squirming in pain. The hall of prisoners part like the Red Sea as Ghost makes a B-line for his cell. He commands the entire floor without so much as a word, head high and chest stretching the scratchy-cotton of his jumpsuit. The poor fabric of his sleeves is in worse condition, barely fitting around his nicely ballooning biceps.

What he wouldn’t give to wrap the muscle around the kid’s neck and squeeze until he hears a satisfying pop. And what he wouldn’t give to drain the subsequent adrenaline by fucking you ‘til he’s filled your pussy with at least three loads of his seed.

Hotter than th’ sun. Fucking stupid.

Johnny’s laying stretched out across his cot when Simon and Alex arrive. His stare lulls from the ceiling to the two men, a lazy smirk blooming across his face at the irate expression on Simon’s. Chuckling just barely, Johnny rises into a sit.

“Whit’s got Si’s cock ‘n a knot this time, Keller?”

Alex settles for a lean inside the cell entrance, watching Simon throw his bag to the side and plop on his bed with his signature grumble. Thank fuck Ghost managed to keep his head. The last time he broke up a fight that involved Simon, he ended up with a stinging shiner and sprained shoulder. The painting Johnny made Simon gift as an apology helped but only a bit.

“Just some kid,” Alex shrugs. “Little shit even called him by his first name.”

Johnny’s eyebrows raise as he lifts his arms in a tall stretch. “Hm. Brave laddie. He still alive?”

“Unfortunately,” Simon answers, pulling another laugh from Johnny before he turns to his favorite C.O. with a gleam in his eye.

“I’m grabbing the guitar strings tonight as soon as I get off my shift. You’ll have everything by tomorrow,” Alex tells him, already knowing. Shit, the man’s been on his ass about it for the past week. “I gotta go but stay outta trouble, gentlemen. For all our sakes…”

Nothing from Simon and a wide grin from Johnny–that definitely reads never –has Alex leaving with a snort. With the two men now alone, Soap sighs contently, staring at Simon until the older man is forced to meet his eye. He’s greeted with the sight of Johnny swinging his legs on the side of his cot and staring back with a tilted head.

“What?”

Johnny takes so long to answer that Simon wants to smack something hard against his ass.

“Our babe asked ‘bout ye today.”

It was an accident. Cracking his palm against one side of your ass yet Johnny has no regrets. He never will, stuffed inside you so deeply that his thighs shake.

“Soap…”

Your whimper, buzzing each time he shoves himself back into your dripping warmth.

“Fuck, where s’at spot at today, huh? She shy, hm? Hidin’ from me?”

Another whimper, loud enough for you to force your hand against your mouth to cover as best you can, slinks out of you when Soap changes the angle of his hips. He resumes his wet pumping, hurrying to grab you when you go limp at the feeling of his leaking head nudging against your walls perfectly.

“Ah, there we go. Thas’it. Ye know, we stay in ‘ere much longer ‘n they’re gonnae think we’re up tae somethin’ naughty.”

Johnny laughs at his own joke through a quiet groan, arms still hugging you to his chest. He’s been close for a while but dragging it out like this… seeing how long he can take being inside you, seeing how long he can take watching your ass bounce back against him before he floods you makes him feel like he’s really earned it at the end of it all.

“D-do you–ah, fuck,” you have to pause in your question, reaching to Inmate Soap’s forearm to squeeze at the sound of how well you’re creaming around him. “Do you talk about me? With–with Inmate Ghost?”

You feel a stuttering of Inmate Soap’s hips though he recovers quickly. It seems the words have done something to him, opening the door to a new canyon of whatever passions drive the man that’s driving you to ecstasy.

Inmate Soap accelerates his pace, one hand grabbing blindly at your tits through your shirt while the other reaches to swivel your head to huff inside your mouth. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, and your soul soars. His lips are closer than they’ve ever been. They just barely brush along yours, hot breaths puffing onto your tongue in the form of filthy whispers.

“Get ta blab to ‘im every damn day ‘bout ye, doll. Tell ‘im how good ye look when ye fall apart ‘round my cock. How yer the closest thing tae heaven someone like me’ll touch. He wants tae touch ye, too, ye know… ends up solid as a fuckin’ rock when he remembers what we do back ‘ere and nuts an entire ocean right ‘ere onto my tongue after. God, ah would do just about anythin’ tae see you take that fucker’s load. Then make ye sit on mah face so ah could eat it outta ye right after…”

Simon doesn’t realize he’s stopped breathing until his chest starts to burn.

“ Riiiight while ‘m balls deep inside ‘er, funny thing. Nearly fainted when ah told her ‘bout all the times ye don’t last longer than a few minutes thanks to the lass.”

Now that he’s thinking about it again, you did look a bit more… wobbly… than usual after you’d exited the back closet. Simon has noticed it right away, the dazed look in your eyes and the slight sheen just barely decorating your skin.

Simon sniffs. There’s no sense in glancing to see if Johnny’s words have succeeded in their task–he’s throbbing already and can feel each twitch of his cock as he pictures the image of you below him, whining for him to pretty please, just stick it in while he teases his fat tip across the swollen bud of your clit.

Johnny only watches, palming at his own hardening member and watching with a crude grin as Simon ignores the bulge in his trousers to turn to his bag.

 New acrylic paint. More flat brushes. Three cartons of cigarettes.

Thanks, Keller… and piss the hell off, MacTavish.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rocky wants chicken for dinner. At least, that’s what you think he mumbled last night prior to half-heartedly fucking you for a handful of minutes and then rolling onto his back to drift into a swell of snores. He doesn’t even remember to take the condom off before sleep takes him and you don’t peel it off his softened cock until after you finger yourself to an underwhelming orgasm.

Happy anniversary to you.

You decide to take your time wandering the familiar aisles of the grocery store, mind clouded with the indecencies that oozed from Inmate Soap earlier in the day.

The heat from him still dances across your lips in ways that make you feel half drunk. He still won’t kiss you, though. Why won’t he kiss you?

Fuck, the things he told you. The things he revealed about Inmate Ghost–and how he wants to touch you. How would he touch you? What would he do if you rattled off one of your lies about a broken machine and led him to the back closet?

What would either of them do if you asked for them both?

“Woah. Eyes up, love.”

Your body jolts at the feeling of your shopping cart knocking into someone. Growing warm in embarrassment, your face folds into a frown.

“I’m so sorry, I–”

Two of them. There’s two of them and they dry up all the spit in your mouth in mere seconds.

The man on the left sports a smirk that shows off a near-perfect set of teeth that match everything else about him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a model. Hell, he probably is one and should be if he isn’t. With his umber-tinted eyes boring into your’s, you become absolutely certain; he’s one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen… and knows it.

A flick of your stare to the right reveals the other man. He's longer than you realize, and holds quite a build as well. Staring right back with a patronizing tilt of his head, he stares at you with… something . Not cockiness, but cunningness, rather. Like he knows all the things you don’t 

“You what, doll?”

Blinking, you nearly jump again. The man, older than the other from what you can tell, has a rumble to his voice that trembles your insides. A gulp bobs your throat and you swear you see both their gazes rake to the skin of your neck before dragging back up to meet your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.”

The words fall from you pathetically but the men soften a little. The older one with a tone that you know will never leave you allows his eyes to crinkle as he gifts you a charming half-smile, while the younger man throws you a wink that snatches your breath.

“S’alright, darlin’. Just watch out for next time, yeah? Don’t want you falling into traffic one day… head like your’s s’too pretty to get knocked around, hm?

You’re frozen in your place, and that’s all they give you before they stroll past you and your cart. Squeezing the handle, you let them pass, pretending not to notice the way each of the men made sure to send you one last glance. Their looks are different than before.

Intentional. Heated. Familiar .

The younger one lets his gaze linger a little longer as he follows his friend around the corner and onto the next aisle–that same smirk tilting up the corners of his mouth as his tongue peeks out to wet the plush lips.

You shiver, whipping your head to look inside your cart.

Maybe you’ll just order pizza tonight...

kyle garrick, the man you are... and what i wouldn't give to hear the captain call me doll just once | (next part) – © 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[spookytragedyshark]

Im in search of a fic I forgot to save and don't have time to deep dive for it since I'm at work.

Starts with soap being upset because he's falling for the reader but is with ghost. He confesses to this during their weekly date night. Ghost is relieved because he took is falling for the reader. They come up with a plan for Soap to approach the reader first. Only soap messes up his wording and Y/N thinks he's trying to cheat on ghost and flips out runs away.

Ghost reassurances soap and they decide to try again together after the next mission after some time has passed.

[hahaifolded]

We Want You: Ghoap x POC!FemReader (Masterlist) Summary: After getting to know you, the newest member of the 141, Simon "Ghost" Riley and Johnny "Soap" MacTavish realize that they want you. However, will the two be successful in reeling you in? Chapter 3: Bedrest (Previous) (Next) Chapter Summary: You talk to Price. Simon and Johnny overhear. Warnings: MDNI, Angst, Misunderstanding, Depictions of hospital, Injuries, military, Anxiety/Panic Attack Blog Rule: Age in bio or you will be blocked! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

“You better have a good reason for disobeying orders.”

You should have known Price wasn’t going to let you get away that fast. You ease yourself up from your hospital bed, body screaming for you to stop, but you ignore it. John sits at your side and watches you. His gaze is stern but kind all at the same time. 

You take a good look at your surroundings while you collect your thoughts. Nothing really caught your attention in your standard hospital room. Your captain sits in one of the four chairs that stand at the side of your room. You glance at the other three and note a familiar blue cap in one of them. However, what really catches your attention is the lack of signs of use in the other two. 

“Are they okay?” Your voice is wobbly which makes sense as those are the first words you’ve uttered since you’ve woken up. 

Price sighs. “Ghost and Soap are fine, but who you should really be worried about is yourself, love.” His eyes soften. “Now tell me, why did you ignore the Lieutenant’s orders?”

You wince as you recount your last few minutes of consciousness.

“I’ve been hit,” you hissed in your comms. Everything happened way too fast. One minute, you’re downloading data from some abandoned lab, and the next, you’re in an empty room, applying pressure on your bleeding abdomen. You think through the pain as you analyze your situation. Soap is on the floor below you while Ghost is waiting outside for the both of you. 

“Stay put. I’m on my way,” Ghost answers. That immediately eases you. However, that relief is short lived as—

“You know I hate repeating myself so I’m only going to ask one more time, why did you ignore orders and run towards evac on your own despite being injured?” Price again asks. His patience is now thin.

You shift again in your seat.“In my defense, I was going to wait, but…” you train off. Shit, this is going to be such an awkward conversation. 

“But what?”

“The situation changed.”

John’s face hardens. “I’m not playing games with you right now. I don’t need a rogue soldier on my team so if you’re not going to give me an answer, I think it’s better we consider other—“

“Enemy soldiers were approaching MacTavish’s position so I made sure he got the back-up he needed.”

“Did he call for back-up?”

“No, but—“

“So that still doesn’t explain why you went against direct ord—”

You snap. “Because I knew Ghost wasn’t coming!” John stills in his seat, eyes wide from your outburst. You take in quick, shallow breaths in an attempt to calm your beating heart. “As soon as Soap said he had enemy soldiers approaching his position, I knew I was on my own.”

John shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ll have a word with them, because that’s not right. I warned them that if they couldn’t keep it professional, I’d—“

“John?” The sternness in your voice catches Price off guard. “Be completely honest with me, if you had to choose between me or your wife, who’d you choose?” 

John stutters for an answer.

A small chuckle escaped you. “John, it’s okay, I already know the answer.” You sink back in your bed and look up at the ceiling. “Ghost doesn’t need Soap to call him.” You turn to look at Price, who grimaces under your kind eyes, and jest, “Ghost loves that boy way too much to not save him, and I can’t blame him for that.” 

Without removing his eyes off you, Price slouches in his seat and lets out a deep breath. “Fine,” he concedes and softens his voice, “but I’m going to start assigning you on more missions with me and Gaz. Need to make sure you stay alive.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t do that. You know we make a good team,” you say, referring to you, Ghost, and Soap. “Besides, who else is going to make sure your boys come back to you?” Your voice is sincere in your declaration which only breaks your captain’s heart.

“But who’s going to make sure you come back?” John whispers as his eyes wander to your covered torso. 

You let out a pained chuckle. “You let me worry about that.” 

— — —

“Breath, Simon. You’re going to pass out,” stresses Johnny as he runs after his lover.

Simon takes a seat and hides his masked face in his hands after finding some chairs at the far end of the hallway. Johnny catches up and gingerly rubs Simon’s back in an attempt to soothe him. 

After a few days of keeping their distance (as they couldn’t bear seeing you hurt), Simon and Johnny were just about to enter your room when they overheard Price say their callsigns. Catching the gravity in their captain’s voice, the two soldiers opt to wait at the door, neither wanting to interrupt a disgruntled John. 

How Simon wished they hadn’t.  

Ghost gasps for air. His right leg furiously bounces. “I was going to come, I promise,” Simon panics. Tears well in his eyes as he recalls your words. You thought that he was going to abandon you. Do you really think he doesn’t care about you? 

And despite his own heart cracking at your confession, Johnny tries to soothe his distressed lover and begs him to breathe. As much as he wants to spiral, the Scotsman had to stay strong for Simon. “I know you were, Simon. I know.” 

And Johnny knows that’s true because they had both promised to put you first if anything happened during the mission. Simon and Johnny knew that in order for this to work, they both had to show you that you matter to them as much as the other did. But, after what they heard , it’s clear that they haven't done that. And now they both have to live with that shame. 

Eventually after a few minutes of pained gasps and soft coos, Simon manages to calm down. His breathing eases but his face stays hidden in his hands.

“Johnny?” 

“Hmm?”

“What do we do if she doesn’t want us?” Johnny freezes. Simon lifts his head to face his boyfriend. The two stare at each other, neither saying a thing. With the way things are going, Simon’s question doesn’t seem so far off. As of now, you think Johnny is a dog and that Simon doesn’t care about you. They weren’t necessarily screaming “boyfriends material.”

Johnny stutters out an answer, but thankfully, doesn’t have to answer as a friendly sergeant appears.

“Hey lovebirds.” Kyle sings-songs with a coffee in his hand. His smile falters as he senses their tension. “Everything okay? Is she okay?” His words are rushed as the couple’s anxious energy gets to him. Kyle turns towards your room. Eyes wide with worry.

“No, no, she’s okay. She just woke up. We’re just--”

“SHE WOKE UP?!” Kyle’s mood shifts from worry to joy. He lets out a small cheer and runs towards your room. He turns around and yells at the two to follow.

Johnny and Simon give each other a look, one that lets the other know that they’ll continue this conversation later, and nervously follow Gaz. Would you even be excited to see them? 

Kyle is the first to enter, clearly ecstatic to see his fellow sergeant alive and well. Your tired but still cheery voice reaches their ears as they turn the corner into your room. 

Despite Kyle chirping your ear off, your eyes wander as Simon and Johnny enter your room. Kyle quiets down. Price looks up with hard eyes. You sit up and smile at the two. 

“Oh thank God, you’re both okay,” you let out. And just like that, you return to your conversation with Kyle.

Ghost freezes. He couldn’t believe it. You’re happy to see them… to see him. Despite thinking that he wasn’t going to save you, you are relieved to see him alive and well. 

Johnny nudges Simon’s side and throws him a small smile. 

Maybe not all hope is lost.

Word Count: 1350

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Note: AAAAH!! This was the FIRST chapter I thought of for this concept. Literally built a story around this! I love this chapter so much, specifically the first half. Really wish I can erase this from my memory and read it for the first time... raw

[queenofdragonss]

Anyone know the ghoap fic where reader has a guard or service dog (vizla?) and they’re neighbors. They meet because readers dog pounces on Simon because of his mask….

****Found it, it’s MY JAW DON'T SNAP THE SAME by gardenofnoah

[twilightbarnes]

Imagine being in a polycule with ghoap and all three of you trying to play it off to everyone that you’re just roommates. Two massive, scary military men being roommates with a pretty little thing like you? You’re not fooling anyone, Price thinks as he observes the three of you from across the booth. You’re sandwiched in between your so-called roomates, sipping on something fruity while simon nurses a bourbon and soap enjoys a beer. He even saw Simon offer you a sip of his whiskey, and you accept, swallowing it down with a pinched face and nearly gagging. He swears he sees the Lieutenant’s eyes crinkle behind his balaclava. Simon sharing his whiskey? Price can hardly believe it. You’re so pretty, he thinks. There’s no way his soilders can keep their hands off of you, he can tell by Soap’s antsy-ness, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands because they’re always full of you. Simon is doing a much better job of keeping things lowkey, Soap, not so much. You’ve definitely got the scot wrapped around your finger with the way he hangs on to your every word.

Price follows Gaz to the bar for another round. “Seen ya looking at her Cap, why don’t you ask her out?” Price chuckles and shakes his head. “I think she’s taken sergeant.” Gaz’s eyebrows furrow. “I doubt she’d be living with two men if she had a boyfriend.”

“Exactly. She’s living with two men because she’s their girl.” Price says. Gaz’s eyes go wide, his head snapping to the three of you from across the room. Simon is saying something to you and you’re blushing. Soap has his arm around the booth and his hand is playing with the ends of your hair, attempting to be discreet but Gaz’s trained eye still sees it. Oh. Oh.

“Bloody hell.” The Sergeant says in disbelief, and Price cracks him a smile in return, patting his shoulder before walking back to the booth. “Told ya so.”

A few weeks later Price is debriefing your boys before they go on leave. “That’s all. You two tell your girl I said hello.” He quips, giving them that signature Price smile before leaving them to look at eachother in realization.

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[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.

[vmaxis]

👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆

every Ghost or Soap x reader fic should include some sneaky Ghoap action…..it’s practically the law…..

[skyrigel]

me: feels unloved *searches x reader tag*