#Ghost x reader x soap

[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 swallowing 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, 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 gives 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.

[writersdrug]

Someone sent an anonymous ask about Soap being all whiny and jealous, complaining to Simon about how lucky he is to have such a pretty, curvy girl and Tumblr swallowed it 😫 (This is gonna be a 2 parter)

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, sub soap and reader, dom ghost, training, voyeurism

But I can imagine Ghost would be so sick and tired of it. Johnny's constantly yapping like the mutt he truly is: "Yer a lucky man, LT. Findin' a pretty bird like that." "Where'd ye get her? Need to find one for myself." "She as soft as she sounds?"

Ghost wants to snap at him for talking about you like that - he shouldn't be talking about you at all. But he knows the poor man is just lonely, aching to have something soft and supple like you. Your smiling face smushed between Ghost's fingers when you come to drop off the lunch he forgot. The jeans that fit snuggly around your ass and thighs, the shirt that hugs the swell of your breasts, stretched thin as it barely contains them... poor Johnny boy can't help but whine at the sight of something so appetizing, so soft and warm right there - he's jealous of his LT. How did someone so hard around the edges pluck something so sweet?

Simon hates to see him so upset, pouting in the corner like a scolded puppy as you stare at your boyfriend with stars in your eyes. Johnny could have a girl, but he gets overeager: fucking them on the first date, leaving them sore and bitten and tearful. He's too rough, and they're quick to excuse themselves, fleeing the next morning and blocking him from all social media.

Johnny needs to learn to be patient and gentle with his toys. He's nice enough to let the sergeant practice with his own pretty girl, and you're more than happy to assist Soap with his green-eyed monster.

After a nice dinner at his LT's house, served by you - along with some bronze, liquid courage - Johnny sits on the recliner, chatting with Ghost, who's relaxed on the sofa. You enter the living room and stand next to Simon, biting your lip excitedly and staring between the two of them. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"Y' think she's pretty?" He asks Johnny, who blinks.

Gorgeous. Comely. Ravishing. "Course I do." He responds plainly, trying not to get worked up over the way you're perched next to his LT so prettily.

"Yea, you do..." Simon mutters, squeezing the flesh at your thigh. "What's it you said? 'She must look nice, spillin' out my hands’?"

Soap is nothing short of mortified. His eyes are wide, staring back at Simon - he doesn't know what to say. He said those things within the secrecy of his conversation with his lieutenant - he didn't expect him to repeat it outside of that bubble, let alone in front of you, the person in question.

"N' what else was it? 'Need t' have a pretty li'l wife with a rack like that to lay my head-"

"Simon!!"

Soap finally glares at his LT, his fingers digging into his own thighs. His heart is pounding in his chest. Is Ghost trying to get you to hate him?

You giggle and stand upright. "It's ok, Johnny." You coo, slowly walking over to him with your hands behind your back. "I like it. It means you like me."

Soap has little time to do anything but grunt when you swing a leg over his thighs and seat yourself in his lap. Your cleavage is right there, just inches from his face, and he can feel the bare skin of your thighs burning through his trousers.

"Help me take this off?" You tug at the skirt of your dress, looking down at him with those innocent, glossy eyes.

He can't breathe. His clothes are too hot and too tight, his cock nearly choking in the confines of his pants. He looks to his lieutenant for help - Ghost just smiles, like he's watching his favorite porn. He might be, depending on how this plays out.

"Go on, Johnny. Slowly."

Johnny wants to be anything but slow, once he realizes his best friend is showing you off like a collectible toy. He looks back up at you, watching the way your plump lip catches between your teeth. He carefully reaches around, grabbing the back of your neckline and tugging the zipper down - slowly, as he was instructed. He can barely focus on the movement with your breasts right there, imagining what they'd taste like between his warm lips. The shoulders of your dress fall away, revealing the lacy bra you're wearing. He looks up at you, drool pooling under his tongue as you slide your hands over his shoulders, one coming around to play with the base of his mohawk.

"You can take it off." You whisper.

He wastes no time, his hands smoothing up your back and unclasping your bra in one motion. He helps you pull it from your shoulders - your breasts, round and full, now pressing against his chest. He wants to touch. He needs to touch.

He shoots a hungry, pleading look to Ghost - he nods back at Soap, which is all the sergeant needs to absolve his filthy behavior. He closes your breast in his palm, eyes hazy as he takes your nipple into his warm mouth. He hardly has to move his head forward because you lean into his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair and your back arching deliciously. Johnny groans, using one hand to dig his fingers into the thick flesh at your hips, and his other to press his palm against your lower back. He shifts himself down as his tongue swirls around your nipple, groans leaving his throat and reverberating against the bud, quickly hardening from his ministrations. You sound so sweet, high-pitched coos and soft breaths pouring from between your lips as you press your weight against Soap, shoving your breast as far into his mouth as he can take. You kiss the crown of his head, whispering a good boy against his skin.

He practically whines, bucking his hips upwards, relishing in how your body grounds him into the sofa cushions. He releases your breast with a pop and quickly takes the other one into his hand, sealing his lips over it with a hum. He looks up at you through wanting, begging eyes as you toss your head back, squeezing your thighs around his hips. His tongue undulates against your stiffening peak, slobbering around the underside of your breast as he gives you another experimental jerk of his hips. You gasp, rolling your hips back down onto him and staring at him with your lust-blown pupils.

His cock is demanding to be let free. He's going to fuck you hard, he's going to pound you into the chair until you're begging, showing his LT just how much of a good boy he is. He's never felt this blazing forest fire within his veins, setting off nerve after nerve and burning a trail right down to his hard, throbbing member.

He hooks his fingers into the hem of your soaked panties, fully intending to rip them off - but you quickly grab his wrist and yank his hand away. He looks at you, blinking through his trance as a look of confusion settles on his face. "Wha's wrong?"

You giggle his expression - the sound goes straight to his tip with another rush of blood. "These are for Simon." you whisper, slowly pushing yourself off of Soap's lap. He lets his arms fall to his sides with a desperate look, letting you back away, right into Ghost's waiting lap.

"Gonna show ya a thing or two, Johnny." he says, pulling you back to his chest. "Teach ya a few tricks, maybe you'll be able t' keep a woman longer than a day." he pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open. The blade drags down over your belly - you chew your lip as it electrifies your skin, the tip sliding lower and lower until he's running it over your pussy. The fabric is soaked as he lingers there, the sharp edge barely separated from your cunt by your flimsy, drenched panties.

You stare at Soap, not once breaking eye contact as Ghost slices through the fabric. Soap's mouth is agape in disbelief and lust, enamored by the sight before him. He can't tear his eyes from the view of your sopping, glistening pussy, watching as Simon slides his thick fingers over your folds. He catches his thumb under the hood of your clit and you jolt, shooting a hand down to grab his wrist - but he doesn't stop. You whine and mewl, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he flicks the bud, strumming over it slowly.

He stares Soap in the eyes, watching his reaction. "Alright there, Johnny?"

He's drooling, mouth hung open, hypnotized by the way your muscles clench with each stroke of Simon’s thumb. “… Aye…” he manages to say – his fingers dig into the cushions beneath him as he tries to control the urge to tear across the room and drive his cock into your cunt, fucking you against his lieutenant’s chest the way you deserve: rough and hard. Simon’s been teasing you too long; you need to be ravaged, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, faster than you can think.

“Let me have a go, yea?” he says boldly, looking at Simon with desperation. “That’s what this is, right? Ye want me to fuck ‘er nice? I’ll do it. I’ll do it, sir – I’ll take good care of her-“

“No you won’t.” Simon interjects before the dog can get too riled up. His fingers are now strumming up and through your folds, and you’re panting and staring at Johnny with needy desire. “’S why you can’t keep anyone. You’re too eager.”

The truth shoots through Soap’s chest like an arrow, and he meets Simon’s gaze. He’s obviously rock-hard in his trousers, he won’t even attempt to hide it. Simon’s got a cocky, knowing smirk on his face, and you… poor you is just wishing Simon would spit out what he wants to say, so the three of you could get on with the show.

“Gonna teach you a few secrets, sergeant.” Simon says, and Soap isn’t sure what to think about having his rank used in this situation. “My girl needs to cum.” He pulls his fingers away from you – you whine in frustration, but are quickly silenced when two, thick digits are stuffed into your mouth. You obediently clean off your own slick with your tongue, looking back down at Johnny with a heavy, lidded stare.

“I’ll make her cum.” Soap says quickly. If this is a matter of whether or not he can make someone cum, he’ll pass that test easily.

“You’ll do it right.” Simon growls. “Need to understand the difference between getting’ your cock wet and pleasuring ‘er. ‘S my girl ‘n I won’t have you roughhousing ‘er. Got it?”

Soap’s throat bobs as he swallows. It was another task, another order from his superior. He clears his mind of any preprogrammed, lustful thoughts, sent straight to his brain from his achingly hard member – this wasn’t about him. It was about following instructions. He was a good soldier, he could do that much.

“Yes sir.”

Simon nods. He shifts hips, pulling his fingers from your lipsand grabbing your hips. You grab his forearms for support as he spreads his muscular thigs, forcing your legs farther apart as they rest on either side of his knees. Slick dribbles down from your pussy and onto Simon’s length, which is about to tear a hole through his pants.

“Then get to it. Sick of hearin’ you yap all day about not bein’ able to keep a girl. Put your mouth to good use – we’re about to fix that.”

[gofishygo]

no but what if reader sacrifices themself for soap in the tunnel... (implied ghoap, ghoap x reader; mcd, reader has very low self esteem, reader probably has depression, mw3 spoilers)

you know how important he is to ghost. everybody does- it's hard to not notice that they are practically symbiotic- feeding off of each other's laughs, near inseparable. you never see one without the other.

and compared to him, you are nothing more than a burden to the team, you figure. you do not carry soap's explosive force, the intensity in his eyes, nor do you have half of ghost's expertise in sniping, do not carry any of his mystique. you dont- you dont deserve a second glance, much less any of their kindness. your fascination, you like to call it, towards johnny and ghost, it should be hidden under your tongue, clandestine and invisible.

nobody gets a say in how quickly you are to establish yourself as the wallflower of the 1-4-1. and by the time of mw3, nobody gets to intercept how you manage to run solo in a team, no matter how much they try to reach out. they have each other. why would they ever need you?

so in that clammy, chilling tunnel, your reactions to such an ambush are second nature- you shut down the moment johnny's shoulder is shot. tackling the enemy- the movement is so instantaneous and blurry that you do not realise that said enemy is makarov himself-onto the asphalt and plunging your knife in and out of him until the muzzle of a gun presses against your head and it's bullet lodges into the back of your brain. you die instantly, silently, not hearing how johnny screams your name instead of your callsign, how simon, for the first time, seems uncoordinated, desperate like a dog as he fumbles to revive you. you had never thought that they cared, never believed they would look at you with reprocipricated admiration. and moments before you die, you realise that you will never know how much of a presence you were in their lives, and you close your eyes knowing that they will be okay together. but you arent around long enough to see how they crumble, and you die with the belief that in this world, you are none other than a replacement. you never seem to stay around long enough to see how simon, johnny, love you.

and you never will.

[heavenbarnes]

dear god please I’m begging you on my hands and knees for more ghost soap reader action, you do it so right. I’m feral

“you do it so right” is a crazy compliment you’re going to make me AHHH 🫶🏼 (this is afab!reader btw just no pronouns)

simon knows his friend has a crush on you, didn’t have to be a fuckin’ psychic to work that one out.

it was written all over his fucking face from the moment he met you, still there when you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock.

“oh L.T, that’s fuckin’ nice”

you ignored the fact that, whilst you were the one with johnny’s cock in your throat, it was your boyfriend he’d chosen to speak to. you ignored it because you knew if you thought about it too long, you wouldn’t be lasting.

simon was practicing his patience on the other end of the couch, large hands gripping his thighs so he wouldn’t rip you off your knees and place you straight in his lap.

he was practicing generosity.

johnny had been whinging his ear off about how long it’d been since he’d had a good shag and he’d got a little too bold talking about how good L.T must have it at home.

“bet ye’ open the door and yer’ one s’already fuckin’ kneeling”

“that the first thing ye’ do when you get home? empty a couple loads?”

“gaggin’ for it with you, L.T- i bet”

simon had had enough, mainly because johnny was absolutely correct and he needed to go home and deal with it- but also because it was doing his head in.

the man had enough dirty thoughts about you to power the fuckin’ atom bomb and simon thought it might be worth putting it to work. there was gains to be made on multiple fronts.

johnny had one arm along the back of the couch and the other was at your face, fingers softly stroking your cheek as you made the most deplorable sounds.

somehow, you could make choking on cock a bit cute.

it wasn’t lost on simon the way your back was arching as you forced more of his friend into your mouth, your ass shaking a little bit as you stuck it out.

an invitation.

simon was practicing generosity but that didn’t mean he had to practice total altruism. there were gains to be made on all fronts.

so whilst you were knelt with your palms flat on johnny’s thighs, his hands coaxing your head in a rhythm, simon was on his knees behind you with your trousers around your knees.

two thick fingers took one long drag up your slit, prodding at your entrance and making you jolt forward. the sudden motion had you gagging on johnny, his head tipping back with a thick moan ripping out of him.

part of being so quiet meant simon would never say it, but maybe if you asked him at just the right moment he could tell you that, to him? he had the best view in the house.

best view in the fucking world.

johnny looked the picture of ruin as your spit dribbled down the side of his cock, matting his trimmed pubes to his skin. you were rolling your hips back into simon’s hand, reaching back to spread yourself a little for him.

“patience,” strong hand cracking down on your ass cheek. “you’ll get what you deserve”

your mouth was full but johnny could’ve sworn he heard you mumble “yes, si” around him at the order (it very well could’ve been “yes, sir” he was undecided)

when he didn’t think his evening could possibly get better, johnny felt a moan leave your chest and absolutely choke him up. his eyes flew open and he was met with a sight.

your eyes, squeezed shut and spit fucking flying out the corners of your mouth. simon- L.T on his fucking knees with his mouth buried in your cunt.

he thought he might die.

all the blood that wasn’t currently keeping johnny hard went straight to that spot and soon his head was spinning, resorting to closing his own eyes so he’d be able to make it through the night.

simon ate your pussy like a man possessed, two hands spreading your cheeks and tongue forcing its way into your entrance. pulling back only to spit on your clit before he dove back in.

giving it enough time and focusing on the sweet motions of your mouth, johnny figured it safe to reopen his eyes and take a another glimpse.

fucking silly move.

knelt before him was his L.T handling the biggest cock johnny thinks he’s ever seen this side of the internet, and he’s bullying it inside of your tight cunt.

johnny swears he didn’t mean to moan, it just slipped out the minute simon started to speak.

“hold tight, johnny- this one’s about to sing”

[codnasties]

kinktober ₊˚ · ♡ ·˚₊ ghost & soap ₊˚ · ♡ ·˚₊ road trip

when you proposed a roadtrip to ghost and soap to the other end of the county, it seemed like fun. driving around, stopping at gas stations and restaurants, sharing songs on aux and having some deep conversations about everything and anything. well, yeah, no. it wasn't so fun for you.

because you were ovulating and now you were trapped for hours on end in a car, with two hot as fuck musuclar men. and that's straight up criminal. sittting in the back seat, getting a perfect view of their strong spread thighs right through the space left by the front seats. soap driving, one hand on the wheel and the other lazily draped on the gearstick. simon with one of his arms draped over the centre console.

all that powerful muscle, strong forearms and protuding veins making your already warm situation turn into an extreme hornyness one. thighs squeezing unvoluntaraly trying to get some release and a bit of friction on your weeping cunt.

you thought you were being sneaky, but there isn't anything that scapes ghost's keen eye, instantly catching you and making eye contact with you through the rear view mirror. he understands, he truly does. that's why he tells you that you might as well fully pleasure yourself.

those small encouraging words were all it took for you to start getting rid of your pants and panties and start fingering yourself, making a mess on the backseat. but simon, still watching you from the mirror, saw how desperate you were and how your small fingers weren't enough. that's why he decided to jump in the back with you, manouvering his big body over the cosole onto the backseat. he came to your aid, giving you a helping hand.

and what a helping hand! stocky fingers sliding into your already soaking wet cunt. he started with one and worked up more in all the way to three, fingering your pretty pussy until you came around his digits.

once he pulled them out and saw how dirty they were, he knew that you had to give him a little payback, helping clean them once he put them in our mouth. happily sucking your own juices off his fingers, wishing it were something else.

your blissed out but still needy face was all it took for simon to know that wasn't enough. so he seats himself properly before pulling his rock hard cock out of his shorts, standing tall as ghost grabbed your hips to move you and strat to slowly lower you until he's sitting snuggly inside your spongy walls.

but when you saw the vile smile plastered on his face through the driving mirror you knew your thighs were going to be burning because he wasn't going to any of the work. he was just lending you his cock so you could enjoy yourself.

you were trying, you really were, riding him eagerly and trying to get off, but sadly to no avail :'( so at your desperate attempts, ghost finally decides to give it a more hands on aproach. manhandling you into a diferent position so he could start fucking you in doggy. fully drilling into you.

your moans, the way you were getting fucked like a slut and the view from the rear view mirror making soap's cock impossibly hard. he was trying his best to keep his eyes on the road but it was becoming unbearable knowing he was missing all the fun.

so he stops the car in the first place he can manage and quickly jumps in the back with the two of you. ghost, seeing the desire in his mate's eyes, gives him the place plunging into your sweet cunt. johnny fucking his rock hard cock, hitting depply insie of you and making sure that you would be sore the next day. meanwhile, simon's prick sitting in your ass, having your ass cockwarm him.

let's say it doesn't end ther, both of them switching possitions and holes until the three of you are mess and have had your fill of fun on the cramped back of that car.

[konigsblog]

puppy! soap & reader and owner! simon will always have me in a chokehold.

so what if it was the day of simon adopting us and he brought us home? how would soap react to a new female puppy in the house? we all know he basically uses ghost as a fucktoy by grinding on his thigh and leg, but he absolutely looses all common sense when he sees us. if you thought he was horny before, it’s a whole other LEVEL now!

tw: dubcon (coercion), hybrid (dog-human), pet play

at first, pup!soap didn't appreciate this one bit. he took it as simon saying he was fed up getting humped, leaving johnny to whine and whimper. i mean- yes, simon didn't like having to buy new pairs of jeans often because johnny kept cumming all over them, but he wasn't sick of that dumb pup yet...

when simon trained you, it made things worse. with johnny purposely making himself a bad influence on you because of jealousy about the attention you were getting. you cowered away from johnny when simon locked you two together in a cage at nighttime, knowing that johnny didn't appreciate your presence at all...

he spat on you, tugged on your collar with his shape canines and made sure he had you crying. this wasn't a good method, as simon would coddle and pet you like he would with johnny, glaring at the other dog in the cage for making you upset. ruffling your ears and tail so you could sleep peacefully between his thighs.

eventually, simon denied johnny to hump him, or use him as a fucktoy. saying that it was punishment for being horrible. and the longer his orgasm was denied, the more horny he got — the more depraved. he'd sob for simon's help, lying about you hurting him in the hopes that maybe simon would fuck the sadness out of him.

did it work? well, of course, it didn't. so johnny, being desperate, fucked you instead. he told you it was a learning thing, that you had to do it. coercing you so that you were on your back and sliding into your cunt. god, he absolutely lost himself. ploughing and rutting into you while you mewled and whined.

now you were his new fucktoy...

simon was so disappointed, deciding that he'd fuck you infront of johnny to punish and torture him. crouched down over your figure that was bent into doggy style. he fucked you, gripping your collar from behind. slow, hard thrusts driving you crazy. his dick was huge, leaving you moaning for more as johnny weeped and mounted his blankets for friction as his dick only got harder and his tip only got wetter...

“tha’s what ya’ get for bein’ a bad dog, johnny...”

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[superhoeva]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 (𝐨𝐧𝐞)

prisoners!ghoap x civilian!reader x ex-cons!pricegaz | your small sleepy town has never been enough for you. maybe that’s what makes it so easy for inmate soap, his cellmate ghost, ad their friends on the outside to convince you to help sneak them out of prison. (w/c: 1.2k)

warnings include language, dark themes, prisoners!ghoap, unprotected sex (wrap it in real life), bit of an age gap between reader and 141 (late 20s/30s and 40s), bodily fluids (mentioned), soap and ghost work in the tailoring room, improper/taboo relationships (prisoner/worker), cheating, manipulative!ghoap, submissive!f!em!reader, loser boyfriend behaviors (you'll see), illegal activities, violence (mentioned). +18/mdni

full masterlist

The claps are almost loud enough to creep under the crack in the door. Almost… thankfully Soap has perfected the art of fucking you in the back of the sewing room closet. Quick, punchy thrusts at just the right angle to yank an orgasm from the both of you. He pierces himself inside you, and your pussy pulses hard around his thick member that spurts out spells of cum that you’ll hold onto for the rest of the day.

You barely contain the whimpers that want to spill from you.

“Oh, whit I wouldn’t give tae hear those bonny sounds out loud, little miss,” Johnny whisper hot, lips brushing the back of your ear messily. He kisses the spot before pulling out of you with a grunt he has to cover with a cough.

He gives your bare hip one more pat, squeezing the skin for a quick moment before hurrying to raise his pants. You feel a heated gaze on your backside as you bend to pull your panties and pants back into place. A rush of heat rewires you once again, as you can feel the load attempt to seep from your whole. You squeeze with a bitten lip and slight shudder, turning to face Soap but able to meet his eyes. The man puffs his chest in a stretch, smirking at you with a smug rub of his stomach.

You sure are something, aren’t you? Letting him fuck you raw in the place he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life, and you can’t even look that sweet gaze at him. The inmate knows the two of you don’t have much time left but takes a few long seconds to up-and-down you anyways.

Finally, Soap steps forward. Swaying in his stand, his pointer finger coming to lull your gaze to him while the rough pad of his thumb drags just across your chin. He makes sure not to speak until you’re really looking at him.

“See ye out there, huh?”

Soap’s tongue dips from his mouth, wetting his lip with a pretty shine. He has to hold back a chuckle at how slow you nod for him.

“Stay sweet, hen,” he sniffs, and you almost flinch at how fast the cool air returns to you at the removal of his hand. You clear your throat, gathering yourself as you grab your clipboard and  follow him back into the tailoring room.

Ignoring whatever eyes are on you, your legs are still a little shaky when you walk yourself back to your seat at the front of the room. You fail in your attempt to not let your eyes glaze back over to Soap, who’s also just making it back to his assigned chair. He collapses in the seat with a breath, scratching the back of his head.

It’s when your stare floats to the man next to him–a mass of muscles and a hard face that you don’t think you’ve seen crack anything close to a smile–that you pause. You’re stuck in a stupid stare, watching and squirming in your seat when they catch eyes with each other. Their silent conversation is loud. It screams right into your face, and you wonder so hard what they could possibly be talking about that it makes your head hurt.

Is it bad you want it to be you?

~

“Grape or blue raspberry? Or cherry, maybe?”

Soap. An odd name you’ve wondered about since he was placed in your section. And his mohawk. Does he cut it himself? Or get another inmate to do it?

Ghost. A mystery in a half, you’ve found. Never speaks. Looks at you funny… a different kind of funny than Soap but still funny.

“Hey.”

A blink of your stinging eyes brings you right back to the gas station dining room booth. He’s sitting in front of you, forgetting about the different options of flavored ice on the laminated menu before him. The stare he places on you is hard to sit with, and you feel the guilt working its way up your throat in the form of bile.

Rocky’s eyebrows do his speaking for him when they pinch together as he leans toward you.

“Don’t want an icee,” you finally mumble, a little rude. Rocky seems more concerned than offended, nodding with visible hesitation. He stays in his quiet while you slide away the menu to rub at your eyes. “Not that thirsty anymore, actually.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” your fiance blinks, pausing for a moment. “Did… did something happen at work?”

“Something always happens at work, it’s a fucking correctional facility.”

Rocky blinks again, trying not to brisk at the harshness of your voice. Swallowing, he shifts. “You know, I still don’t like you working there. In that place. With all those jerks.”

Jerks. That’s the best he can come up with?

“So you’ve said,” you sass back, wishing it was morning already. Morning means that Rocky’s already out of the house before you’re waking up. Morning means you start a new day of work and get to see the way Inmate Soap’s chest and biceps bulge in his prison uniform. Morning means another chance that Inmate Simon might speak to you. “Can we go home now?”

Rocky throws his head to the side in dissapointment, pouting childishly. “We didn’t even get anything yet.”

“Get it to-go, then,” you instruct him, yanking yourself from the booth to make a b-line to the truck with a dissatisfied shake of your head.

Inmate Soap would treat you better than this. Take you somewhere nicer than a goddamn gas station dining room for your anniversary. And you know what? So would Inmate Ghost. Even if he doesn’t speak…

~

Dinner is the usual. Sloppy but edible.

“Same sad meal,” Soap sighs, dropping his spoon so that it crashes into his tray of half-eaten food. He stares at Ghost through his eyelashes before his face brightens with a smirk. Voice lowering, Soap leans. “Wish I was eatin’ her, instead.”

Ghost has to pause in his chewing of the mushy carrots they were served this evening. It’s a miracle the fork in his hand doesn’t break at how hard he comes to clench it.

“‘M tellin’ you, Si,” Soap shakes his head with a rub of his chin, face hazy. “Pussy’s hotter than th’ sun. Would live inside there, ‘f I could…”

“Stop speakin’,” Simon rumbles out, and Soap shakes with a delighted giggle.

“Jus’ sayin’,” Soap shrugs, gathering his spoon back up to pick at the leftover food. “Bet she’d, ah, let ye have a taste, too. Sweet thing… even got those sad eyes ye like. Which you would notice if you’d speak to the lass–”

“Shut the fuck up, Mactavish.��

Simon’s voice catches the attention of a few surrounding inmates, who know not to question what’s wrong. Not if they want to get their head bashed in by an angry Simon Riley. If they only knew it wasn’t anger coursing through his vein, but a healthy dose of blood running down to his cock that’s making him like this. He resettles in his seat, ignoring the way Johnny’s looking at him, and giving a good palm to readjust his now-leaking cock. Biting his tongue, he can’t help but clench all his muscles at how right Johnny is.

You would taste a hell of a lot better than this sad excuse of a meal.

(next part) - © 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[penelopepine]

Mother Knows Best!

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

Summary: Soap's mom trying to set Ghoap up with Reader! She loves Reader and she's going to make her a part of her family! Content: fluff Word Count: 1012

You had started working in Mrs. MacTavish's bakery a few months ago. She was a kind older woman who had welcomed you with open arms when you first started. Her two daughters were just as kind as well. 

They had come in one day, just checking in on their mom, and the rest was history after that. The three of you quickly became thick as thieves. After spending so much time with Mrs. MacTavish’s family they honestly felt like your own now; the only member you have yet to meet was her son, John.

If only you had known what Mrs. MacTavish had planned for when you did. She brought you into her family, and what better way to make that official than by having you date her son. The son who was already in a long term committed relationship with his lieutenant. That was just a two for one deal for you in her eyes. 

-

The day Johnny came into the shop it had been a surprise for everyone. He hadn’t told anyone that he was arriving home early. When he first stepped into the bakery he was expecting to see his mum, but instead saw you working behind the counter. He remembers her mentioning getting a new worker at the shop. 

“Hello, lass! You must be the one who has captured my mum’s heart! Anyone who can do that might as well be family; feel free to call me Johnny.” He introduced himself to you with a wink. “Speaking of my mum, is she in right now?”

You're shocked for a second upon a stranger coming in and introducing himself to you. Regaining your composure though you quickly introduce yourself to himself as well; excited to finally be meeting the son you’ve heard so much about. “Oh, yes! She’s back in the office right now, and I’ve heard my fair share of stories about you as well.” 

“All good things I hope. Would hate it if she gave a bad first impression.” 

“Don’t you worry I’ve only heard the best!” You two bantered with one another before Johnny steps away and makes his way towards the office.

He knocks on the door, and waits until he hears his mum’s muffled voice come from the other side, “Come in!” 

Without waiting for another second he throws the door open, and there sitting at the small desk is his mum. Standing in the doorway he basks in the surprised and excited shrieks when she realizes that it's him.

"Oh, Johnny! Come in come in! Let me see you." She calls him further in as she stands up herself with open arms. She holds him tight when she finally gets her arms around him. Johnny knows she's probably feeling a bit overwhelmed right now, and lets her hold him as long as she needs. "I've missed you so much!" 

"It's good to see you again mum." He whispers into her hair, "I've missed you too."

She pulls away and her eyes have a glossy sheen to him as she urges him to sit down in one of the chairs alongside her. Once there she asks him about Simon, and tells him what's been happening while he's been away. 

They continue to talk and catch up with one another before his mum asks him about you, "So … what do you think of her? She's cute isn't she!" 

Johnny couldn't deny that you were rather pretty; if he wasn't currently in a relationship he would have been all over you. He didn't know why his mum was asking him that though. "Yeah, she's cute. Why? Are you planning on playing matchmaker again? Which one of your friend's sons are you thinking about for her?" 

"Actually I think you should ask her out; I think she'd be good for you." 

"Mum! You know I'm with Simon!" Johnny's voice rising with anger at the thought of his mum wanting him to leave his partner. 

"She'd be good for him too!" She quickly reassured him, “I can see it now. The three of you living life to the fullest with one another.” 

Johnny feels absolutely shell shocked right now; unsure of how to really respond even, "Wait? You want me and Simon to date her?"

"Exactly!" She exclaims, "She'd be perfect for the two of you!" 

"Mum-"

She interrupts before he can continue though, "Just talk to her! If you don't like her like that, or if you and Simon don't want that kind of relationship then I won't mention it again. I promise!" 

"Fine, fine I'll talk to her," He agrees, "only because she's working for you though, and I need to make sure she's not a troublemaker."

"Of course! You should do that now then." She stands up and ushers him out of the office, and shuts the door behind him. Johnny is left standing there mouth agape as he stares at the office door. 

After coming to terms with what just happened he turns and makes his way back to the front of the bakery. He didn't go to talk to you with any romantic intentions, but it seems his mum really does know him too well. Not that he’s going to complain about it right now; not when it seems there honestly could be something romantic here. 

He ends up staying for the rest of your shift talking and helping you with the customers, and afterwards he finds himself calling Simon. Telling him all about the bonnie lass that really is perfect for them. All he needs to do is meet her to find out for himself to see that it’s true. 

If after that Simon ends up in town as well as coming to the bakery who can really say why. It's also a coincidence that the three of you are seen out at a pub together just a couple days later. 

Mrs. MacTavish is very pleased with herself when you, Johnny, and Simon are then coming to her and informing her that you are now a part of their lovely relationship. 

Taglist: @zarsghost

[lay-z]

🌲 Day 6 ‒  A Christmas tree disaster

Synopsis: This was supposed to be a relaxing, fun getaway for the three of you, – spending Christmas leave in a cosy cottage in the Scottish Highlands, – but for some reason, your two lovers just don’t seem to be getting along.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!Reader x John Soap MacTavish

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | multiple POV’s; military!Reader; established poly!relationship; cussing; humour; domesticity; sexual roleplay; dirty talk; breeding kink; voyeurism; angst; edging; orgasm denial; miscommunication (Don't worry, though!)

Word count: 2.9k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Happy St. Nicholas’ Day! Hope you’ll enjoy this. 🎅🏼❤️

Blowing softly on the steaming cup of black tea clutched between your palms, you watch from the large kitchen window front as the snowy blanket covering the scenery outside thickens with the steady flutter of big, fluffy snowflakes.  

The snowfall is creating a beautiful, tranquil atmosphere that seems like a perfect setting for a romantic getaway, it’s been snowing consistently since you’ve arrived at the cottage last night and it doesn’t look like it will let up anytime soon, judging by the grey sky. 

You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts turning to the approaching Christmas Eve tomorrow.  

You're finally on leave with Simon and Johnny, who have rented a cosy cottage in the picturesque Scottish Highlands for some much-needed R&R, after Johnny had practically begged you two to visit Scotland with him over the holidays. 

“There ye are, hen,” Johnny coos as he approaches from behind; two warm, beefy arms, clad in a deep blue chequered lumberjack shirt, wrap around your waist from behind as he pulls you into himself, your back moulding against his bulky chest. 

“Enjoyin’ the bonnie view, hm?” He asks softly, voice muffled as he buries his face into your neck. 

Your heart flutters at his unexpected embrace, the warmth of his arms enveloping you like a comforting blanket. The snowy scenery outside might be beautiful, but the feeling of his strong, solid presence behind you is what truly captures your attention and helps you relax. 

“Hmmm,” you hum in contentment, putting the hot mug down on the counter in front of you before leaning back into him. “Yeah, it's gorgeous out here. Perfect for a cosy holiday getaway. Good job renting this place for us, baby.” 

Johnny grins, his voice a soft rumble. “Knew it'd be nice. Cannae wait ta spend the week all by ourselves – with ye and the Grinch.” His fingers splay across your abdomen, his arms wrapping around you tighter. 

“We can unwind here, or even go out some. Have a proper snowball war,” he suggests, nuzzling into your neck, “– or stay inside an’ have some fun.” He teases, the smirk evident in his deep voice, his warm breath fanning over you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You squirm in his embrace, giggling softly, when his fingers sneak underneath the hem of your beige wool sweater, tickling along your warm skin. 

“Will you stop calling Simon a Grinch? Because he will clock you if he hears it again.” 

Johnny chuckles against your neck, his fingers roaming beneath your sweater and brushing over the underside of your bra-clad breasts, “But it's fitting, innit? He is grouchy as hell, more so than usual.” He objects, his featherlight touch sending sparks of desire to your core. 

“And let tha’ big geezer try. I can take him any day.” He murmurs jokingly, pressing a soft kiss to your nape as his hands cup your breasts over your soft bra, groping them sensually while he pushes the growing bulge inside his jeans against your rear. 

You moan softly at his teasing, your breath hitching as you feel his muscular body pressing flush against yours. Your hips instinctively push back against him, your head tilting as his mouth peppers kisses along the side of your neck, the rough stubble of his chin adding to the sensation. 

“Ah, careful… Johnny,” you murmur, your fingers reaching up and behind you to thread through his dark, short Mohawk while his hands cup your breasts, pinching your stiffening nipples through the fabric.  

“We need to help Simon relax and unwind. You know that he’s still adjusting to… this relationship. Plus, you know that the holidays aren’t easy for him.” Johnny hums along as you speak; still pre-occupied with kissing your neck and groping your body, so you give his Mohawk a tug that has him growling in return. 

“Where is he anyway?” You ask eventually, concern lacing your voice as you let out another contented sigh while you try not to get too distracted by your other boyfriend and his ministrations – or shenanigans. 

Johnny mutters in between teasing nips, “Said he’s gonna take a walk… Talkin’ about ‘checkin’ the bloody perimeter’.” He snorts, his breath puffing against your shoulder, “I was thinkin’ we could ah– christen the kitchen now, hm? Give him somethin’ nice ta look at when he comes back. Whaddaya think, hen?” 

Your fingers carding through his hair loosen their grip and your arm drops to your side, resolve crumbling when one of his big hands lets go of your breast to slip beneath the waistband of your matching beige leisure pants. 

“You–You can’t keep saying that Simon is a voyeur, baby,” you almost whine, your voice already breathless as his fingers start teasing your rapidly dampening slit and swelling clit through your panties. 

“Ach, our Grinch’s a bloody voyeur and ’m a nasty mutt and ye luv us both for it,” Johnny growls against your nape, biting down playfully as he pushes your panties aside and plunges a finger past your sopping entrance while his other hand pushes your bra up to free your breasts beneath your sweater.  

“Now… be a good wifey and let me fill you up with my cum, aye? Gonna breed you fuckin’ nicely over the holidays– make sure ye’re kept all warm an’ stuffed, an’ ask Simon ta take turns with me.” 

Your knees nearly buckle as he adds a second finger into your cunt, thick digits working their magic to prepare you for his girthy cock, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You can't deny the truth in his words. Yes, Simon is a voyeur, and yes, Johnny is a naughty, eager brat. And yes, you love them both more than anything. 

The mention of being Johnny’s ‘wifey’ causes a shiver to pass through your body and you feel like your pussy reacts even harder, gushing with arousal as he keeps pumping and scissoring his fingers, muttering filth into your ear with his Scottish brogue. The idea of submitting to him, to both of them, being their ‘good wife’... it's incredibly intoxicating. 

Eventually, your sweater is pulled over your head along with your bra and dropped onto the dark kitchen tiles; your skin pebbles with goose bumps when Johnny pushes you forward, making you brace your hands on the brown marble kitchen counter while you hear him fumble with his belt and zipper behind you. 

He pushes your soft pants and panties down your hips, letting the fabric pool at your feet as he nudges them apart with his boot, “Fuckin’ hell, look at tha’ bonnie cunt. Ye’re already drippin’ f’me, wifey.” 

Simon closes the heavy, dark cedar wood door behind him with his usual finesse, making little to no sound, even as he steps inside the spacious entrance area, gently placing the freshly chopped logs for the fireplace down in a corner, before brushing the powdery snow off of his warm black bomber jacket, kicking off his wet winter boots next. 

He feels better after his walk, having swept the perimeter and gotten familiar with the surroundings of the cottage where they will be residing at for the next couple of days; it eases his anxiety and soothes his paranoia, knowing his way around here, even though both you and Johnny are more than capable enough to handle possible danger and threats, no matter where. 

After hanging up his jacket next to yours and Johnny’s, he knows that the both of you are either still settling in or lounging around somewhere. 

However, when Simon saunters down the hallway toward the open living room area, his trained ears pick up the odd sound of rapid skin on skin contact coming from the kitchen and his stomach drops and tightens into knots, synapses firing in his brain, once he makes the connection and comes to the most logical conclusion. 

Of course, you two would be doing that.  

A part of him wants to simply leave and find some other way to occupy himself, but he has to admit, his curiosity and the shameless urge to watch you get fucked by Johnny wins out – always does. So, he slowly strides toward the kitchen, his sock-footed steps silent and measured, while the sound of slapping flesh, your wanton moans and Johnny’s hoarse groans become louder as he approaches. 

When Simon comes to stand inside the open kitchen doorway, a shockwave of blasting desire shoots through his lower abdomen, makes his groin throb and his cock chuff inside his boxers at the obscene sight in front of him. 

His sharp eyes land on Johnny’s bare ass and clothed torso, jeans pooling at his boot-clad ankles; plump ass cheeks and hairy thighs flexing as he pounds into you from behind while one of his meaty hands is wrapped around the back of your neck, pushing your naked body down against the counter while the fingers of his other hand dig into the fat of your hip to keep you steady.  

Simon tries to keep his breathing steady, but his blood starts rushing and simmering, knuckles turning white as he balls his hands into tight fists at his sides to keep his composure while heat starts licking up his spine, flushing his pale cheeks which are still stinging from the biting cold outside. 

The way your smooth back arches as you take Johnny’s fat cock, makes Simon want to jump into action himself and lick his flat tongue along your spine, get a good taste of your sweat and skin. He can clearly see your legs quaking; can hear how wet you are as Johnny’s heavy sac slaps against your flesh. It’s making him dizzy, and he bites back a low groan bubbling up in his chest. 

Simon’s painfully hard now, dick straining against his underwear, and he knows – one flick of your pretty tongue over his flushed cockhead would have him buckle and come undone within seconds, erupting like a bloody volcano.  

Suddenly, his right hand cups his throbbing erection through his black cargo pants, heart thudding violently against his ribcage as he rubs himself, sucking in a sharp breath through his nostrils as his own touch ease some of the pressure. 

Slowly, his dark eyes move lower, his gaze fixated on your face and the way it contorts in pleasure, lips parted with keening moans while your eyes are squeezed shut. He tries to keep his expression neutral, despite the ache between his thighs, but his jaw ticks and the vein in his neck throbs with restraint. Watching you and Johnny... despite how much it turns him on, it always makes him feel insignificant, inadequate, redundant... 

Simon hates how he’s feeling about this relationship lately. How envious he is and how he thinks of himself as an intruder rather than your equal lover and boyfriend. An equal with Johnny, despite slipping and sliding into your relationship later than the Scot.  

And now, he’s stuck with the two people who he cares most about and loves for vastly different reasons on this godforsaken planet, unable to enjoy this R&R, because he doesn’t know and has never learned how to relax and unwind and enjoy these holidays that everyone seems to love so bloody much. He’s sure neither you nor Johnny would bat an eyelash at those sentiments of his and he can’t even blame either of you for that. 

“Can feel ye squeezin’ me, hen, – Fuck! Ye gonna cum f’me, aye?” Johnny taunts you, his voice strained and husky with desire, “Ah, F–Fuck! ‘m close, baby! Ye ready?” 

The way you whimper and moan for Johnny, blabbering gibberish in ecstasy, has Simon gritting his teeth as his chest clenches and his cock throbs, ready to burst so soon with little to no stimulation, but he can’t – can’t allow himself to use you two and finish in his pants like this. It feels wrong and pathetic, like he doesn’t deserve nor earned it yet. 

Your words come out chopped, breath hitching with each thrust of Johnny’s powerful hips, his girthy cock dragging through your slick channel, thick tip nudging against that spongy spot that has your brain go fuzzy as your pitchy whines are torn from your throat and echo through the cottage, “Fuck– ah yes, yes, yes! John-ny–!” 

Even in the throes of passion, Johnny is aware of Simon’s presence; knowing the big bloke is probably standing completely still behind them in the kitchen’s doorway, trying to keep himself from whipping out his cock to stroke it. 

But the stubborn Scotsman has made it his personal mission for the holidays to keep you extra satisfied and happy, and finally make Simon let loose in the process of it. It just hasn’t been working too well so far with the latter, though he’s making progress with the former– 

His grip on your neck tightens as the tension in his lower belly coils deliciously, his balls getting taut with his impending release as he snaps his hips forward, making sure to keep the right angle, keep you moaning his name with that saccharine voice of yours as his meaty cock pistons in and out of your wet cunt while your rippling walls clench tightly around his shaft, trying to suck him in deeper. 

Johnny eases his grip on your neck with a deep grunt and lets his warm, big palm run down the curve of your back, arched so sweetly for him, before he lifts it to smack your right ass cheeks harshly, watching the fat jiggle as you yelp. 

As soon as you cry out in pleasure and your body starts tensing, Johnny knows you’re about ready to tip over the edge, so he grabs your hips with both hands and doubles the effort, eager to follow you into the abyss. 

“You better fuckin’ stop, MacTavish, and don’t you fuckin’ dare come inside her now.” 

Johnny’s breath stutters, thrusts faltering as soon as Simon’s booming, gravelly voice resounds behind him. And just like that, his chance to climax and fill you up with his cum is popped and broken like a flimsy balloon. 

The intensity in Simon's voice is like a bucket of cold water, snapping you out of your haze of pleasure, and you tense, perking up as you grip the kitchen counter before glancing over your shoulder with widened doe-eyes, shocked gaze flickering between Johnny and Simon. In an instant, the atmosphere changes and things get tense – the sexual tension in the air transforming into something more volatile, something potentially explosive. 

“We got stuff do to, shite to prepare for tomorrow and you two are shagging,” Simon scoffs, trying to keep his voice nonchalant while ignoring the obvious, raging boner in his cargo pants, “Typical.” 

“Stuff ta prepare?” Johnny huffs a laugh, raising his brows in amused disbelief while his hips keep grinding into your pulsating heat shamelessly, “Mate, we’re on vacation,” he says matter-of-factly, holding your hips tighter as you try to pull away, “There’s not a feckin’ thing more important than peace, love, food, and ‘specially this–” He gives your ass cheek a couple more teasing pats as Simon saunters into the kitchen, squaring his broad shoulders. 

Meanwhile, there is nothing else you’d rather do than melt into a puddle and seep into the floor in shame and embarrassment. 

Your cheeks heat up even hotter, when Simon comes to stand beside you, scrutinizing you thoroughly with his icy, unwavering gaze before he reaches out with one hand to brush his rough, cold knuckles over the side of your face lovingly. 

“You did want a Christmas tree, right, lovey?” 

Your whole body shudders and your throat goes dry, completely caught off guard by the sudden display of tenderness from Simon after catching you in such a vulnerable, obscene position. Still, your brows draw together in a thankful frown as you nod slowly. 

The corners of Simon’s eyes crinkle the tiniest bit as his gaze softens for you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he rumbles, brushing his knuckles along your tense jawline as you whimper, “Gonna make this Christmas special f’ya.” 

“Oh... fuck–” Johnny huffs, chest heaving before he chuckles with a playful glint in his cobalt blue eyes, “Our bonnie lass loves ye an’ yer voice, Si. Her pretty cunny is grippin’–” 

“Enough, Johnny!” Simon barks, making you flinch, “Now put your fuckin’ dick away and help her get dressed. We gotta go cut down that tree before the bloody sun sets.” 

[writersdrug]

The Good Friend

Chapter 1. A New Hobby

Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: The people have spoken

Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.

There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.

Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."

Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.

It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.

Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."

Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -

But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.

Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?

There was only one way to find out.

Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.

However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.

"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."

"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"

Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."

"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"

"You fuckin' wish."

It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.

"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."

Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.

You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.

"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."

Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-

Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?

"Johnny."

He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.

"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."

Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?

"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."

Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"

"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."

That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.

"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.

He couldn't.

Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.

"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"

"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."

Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.

So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.

Like a good friend.

Next ->

Taglist: @a-sadmilky

Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja

[asgardswinter]

Cod fanfics r so popular on here, but theres hardly any poly fics which surprises me like, who doesnt want to imagine themselves getting gangbanged by like 5 beefy gruff moody cod men 😭 cmon guys :(

[diejager]

I’m thinking of Johnny having his nipples pierced years ago, squirming and moaning like a bitch when Simon pulls at them, pinching and pulling his red and engorged nipples. It’s the catalyst to him making you pierce your nipples for him to fondle while they’re fresh and swollen, still so, so sensitive to touch after the procedure.

Simon makes sure that every piercing Johnny has, you have, both pets for him to play and coddle with when he’s home.

[eowynstwin]

GhostReaderSoap:

Two jacked boyfriends=you will get scooped at the funniest moments. Standing in front of a shelf they want access to? Scooped. Trying to start an argument? Scooped. You weigh nothing. You’re a bunch of grapes. Yes, even you. They know how to lift with their knees.

Soap is likely closer to you in size so his clothes are the ones you steal most often. Ghost isn’t miffed about it, no he isn’t, pet, don’t be daft. He wasn’t daydreaming about watching you sleep in his shirt. Don’t be ridiculous.

A lot of two-timing jokes, mostly made by Soap, but Ghost will play along. “What do you MEAN you have a boyfriend?” he’ll ask you, with Ghost standing right there. Ghost, immediately choosing violence, “As if you could fuck them better than I could.”

Soap is the designated pastry chef of the polycule. He can be caught in gray sweat pants and a tight white tank top, flour coating his forearms, kneading bread dough at stupid hours in the morning. You and Ghost have to race each other to suck him off, because Johnny baking is peak Johnny.

Johnny is also the cuddliest. If he catches you or Ghost on the couch he will belly flop on top of either of you and bury his face right between the titties.

Two big boys means soft snuggly sleeping arrangements, right? WRONG. It’s a fucking furnace between them. Ghost is the designated middle sleeper until winter, because Soap absolutely runs the hottest.

If you ever had any reason to be afraid of going out drinking, you don’t once you’re with them. You have double scary dog privilege in their company, and it doesn’t go away when they’re deployed. If you frequent the same pubs while they’re gone, the other regulars know not to fuck with you if they value their lives—and genitals—intact and unharmed.

Having two military partners has other benefits. You can trust them to be as keen to keep a tidy home as you are.

Soap is the one most eager to decorate when the three of you move in together. Ghost is…not enthused. Some part of him is always ready to burn home down if he has to. He’ll indulge you and Soap, though.

Another benefit to being with the both of them is that you’re alone a bit less than you otherwise might be with a SpecOp partner. Their deployments don’t always intersect, although it does happen pretty often.

It’s Soap’s idea to write you letters only to be opened after they’ve left. Ghost isn’t good at it, but his notes can always be found with Soap’s. They’re simple, short—it’s hard for him to be vulnerable still. He doesn’t promise anything. But he does always tell you he’ll try to get Soap home to you if he can.

[lunarmothim]

just a half-baked thought

imagine being on 141- maybe you're a total badass or maybe you're just a bit too full of yourself, a bit too cocky- and approaching ghost and soap in the gym, just fucking blurting out "you two wanna take me at the same time?"

soap chokes on his water and ghost just gives you a bemused stare while he pounds on soap's back to get him to breathe again

you meant in a spar, but when you end up between them back in one of their rooms you're definitely not complaining

[silaslich]

Absolve me of my sins, won’t you?

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader x John “Soap” Mactavish

Wc - 4k

Summary - Johnny gets a taste of what he missed out on at the safe house. Part 2 to this

Cw - 18+, smut, threesome[m,m,f], bondage, blowjobs, face-fucking, masturbation(f)

He’s no stranger to the feeling of bindings.

Johnny isn’t a puritan. Not by any stretch, but he has to admit- these circumstances feel worlds away from anything he’s indulged in before. His pulse leaps under his skin, throat bobbing as he swallows his doubt. He’s nervous. Knee jerking up and down in rapid succession as the chair he’s bound to creaks at the slightest of movement-groaning under his weight when he shifts.

Then her hands are there, nails scratching over his skin, skating up over his shoulder blades to sink further into his flesh then running down his collarbones and over his pecs.

She’s at his ear, smiling into his skin, the smell of her drifts and catches in his nose; geranium and jasmine. It’s sweet and mild, milky on her skin. As soft as she is.

“You’re so tense, Johnny” she coos as she presses her lips to his throat, smiling against him when he shivers.

He’s not sure what’s led him here or how on Earth he’s ended up in this room- with the two of them.

It’s murky in between. The time since the safe house, since listening in on them fucking, spilling in his own hand to the sound of them together- he’d been caught out. Ghost had loomed close after that. Watching Johnny’s back a little too long for his liking, eyes lingering when he thought Johnny wasn’t looking. Yet, Johnny knew, could feel the shift and could feel his gut stir whenever he was within their proximity. It was jealousy, a need of his own, a desire fuelled lust that kept him awake in his bunk at night.

However, he surprised himself, he’s never been a man to put a label on his preferences, but he’s more then a little on edge to realise he’s jealous of them both. He’s greedy. He wants it all, needs it like it’s a lifeline, like it’ll cure the ache in his chest and the boiling curl of heat in his gut.

Sitting here now- it feels surreal, like it’s all one big joke at his expense. Then Ghost shifts from where he’s sitting right across from Soap. The bed creaks and both her and Soap look up, meeting his eye, watching as he stands and begins looms closer. Johnny feels the way she smiles into his skin, it’s more a smirk, really, like she knows what’s about to happen. Because of course she does, he reminds himself, she’s accustomed to this, used to Simon- probably knows exactly how tonight will go.

It had been her suggestion after all. The three of them a few drinks too deep and more then too distracted to care about the football match that everyone had gathered in the rec room to watch. It had started with a drifting hand on Soaps thigh, shadowed in the dim light, lip bitten between her teeth as she feels his hips shift. She’d been doing this since the safe house, teasing him, purposefully getting under his skin only to leave him high and dry. Without any release. Ghost was the same, his glances, his hand placements and his words, unless someone was looking- they wouldn’t catch the change in Ghost’s demeanour, but Johnny has been around him long enough to notice.

“I think we should play nice with him, Si” she mewls. Her hands clutching at Soap’s abdomen from where her arms are circled around his waist, still pressing her body and lips into him as if she’ll melt right under his skin and into his bones. Ghost hums in thought, deft mind ticking over and calculating like always. Johnny doesn’t feel small under his lieutenant’s gaze, he never has, never afraid to speak his mind to him because he knows Ghost values his input even if he doesn’t agree with it. This? This is different. Duty has been left at the door, because inside Simon’s quarters- they’re everything but soldiers.

The mask means Johnny can’t read Ghost’s expressions, but his eyes are bare, smudged in black grease paint but so transparent; every emotion plays through them. Tonight his pupils are blown wide with lust as he comes closer, stopping when his boots are between Soap’s. He cranes his neck down to meet Johnny’s gaze, a big scarred hand reaching up to thumb over his cheek and then down his jaw. Acknowledging him, toeing the line of too much intimacy but throwing caution to the wind regardless. This is all or nothing now, they’re past the point of return, but it’s clear none of them wish to retreat now.

Ghost lifts his hand to his own face to hook his thumb beneath the mask to tug it up to the bridge of his nose, leaving only his jaw and mouth free. Soap watches, intrigued, he’s seen Simon’s face only once, some time ago- seeing a glimpse of it again now jogs the memory. The notch of scarring at the bridge of his nose from multiple breaks and the stubble lining his cheeks, the cut of a scar through his right eyebrow and the line of scar that slices through the same side of his lips. It floods back- let’s Soap put the image back together piece by piece in his head.

Simon’s face is only an inch away now, eye to eye, flitting from Johnny’s gaze and back to his mouth. “You all in, Mactavish?” He asks, his voice low, almost a whisper. Johnny nods before the words have fully left Ghost’s mouth.

“Aye, sir” Johnny breathes- barely a beat after Simon’s spoken.

Simon tastes of nicotine and danger. His tongue is spiked with the burn of it, the warning of a dire demise- broken apart by his hands and barely put back together. But Johnny wants to be broken, his hands itch to clutch at his lieutenant, to fist his shirt in his fingers as his tongue curls into his mouth. It’s everything- the feeling of Ghost’s palms cradling his face, almost tenderly, a forbidden fondness Ghost had made room in his chest for. She’s back again, watching as Simon slips his tongue across Johnny’s filthily. She squirms as she watches because it’s the hottest thing she’s sure she’s ever seen. Her lieutenant and sergeant getting off like teenagers, panting into each other’s mouths when Ghost breaks away- taking a breath.

Her fingers don’t stop their path across Soap’s skin, running up his arms, over his chest, cradling his neck- she wants to have explored every inch of him. Not a single spot left untouched and unloved. Her hand cups his jaw, angles him so he’s looking at her from over his shoulder, then she connects their lips. It’s tender. Worlds different to Simon, she’s timid, relinquishing the control to him, letting him take it all. The chair scrapes when he presses closer to her, licking into her mouth, tasting his own sweat on her tongue where her lips have pressed indents of adoration into his shoulder blades.

“You taste so sweet Johnny” she huffs, pecking his lips once more before she’s sliding away, closer to Simon. Johnny’s smile is drunk, silly as he watches her go, the way the flesh of her arse bounces as she goes. She’d stripped off as soon as they’d all tripped through the doorway, too hot and bothered and horny to keep the layers on. She’s only in her panties now, bare chest marked by Ghost’s teeth long before tonight. Johnny reminds himself he’s just a guest here. He’s shameless as he watches her. Watching Ghost’s big deft mitts clutch at her hips when she rises on her toes to kiss his cheek, then his neck, rubbing her cheek into his skin like a cat scenting it’s property- much like she had already done to Johnny. Ghost catches her off guard, his hands at her throat to tug her mouth to his- smirking into the kiss when she squeals. His hands root into her flesh, so deep it’ll bruise, Johnny feels his cock swell at the sight. Wishing someone would clutch him so tight he’ll wear the brand of their fingertips for days to come.

She breaks away to sink her teeth into Simon’s throat when his hand palms her ass, taking a handful and squeezing. She’s beautiful, Johnny thinks, the way she looks at Simon is something to admire, the warmth of her soul radiates from the inside out. Heaven incarnate. Johnny’s too enthralled in his own mind to notice she speaks, she’s closer now, stood between his spread thighs.

“You look lost, John” she smirks as she sinks to her knees. “I hope we haven’t lost you just yet” she thuds softly to the floor, knees spread as her palms skate over his thighs. He chucks his head back, heart racing, he still can’t believe what’s happening,

“Y’could never lose me, bonnie” when Johnny opens his eyes Simon is suddenly in his vision, stood over him as he moves catch the side of his face to force his eyes upright again.

“Eyes on the prize, Johnny” he rumbles low in his chest, hand now falling from the side of his head to the base of his neck- holding him in place as he watches her closely.

She thinks of teasing. It plays on her mind, but it’s short lived, her and Ghost have waited this long- what’s the point of a few more minutes? She palms johnny through his jeans, her torso slotted between his thighs, then she’s pulling his belt loose and his zipper yanked down too. Soap hisses when their skin meets, her soft palm, the heat and weight of him in her hand. She grips and squeezes his cock between her fingers till his chest crowds forward- tugging against his binds, they’re the laces from her shoes.

“You’re fucking massive, Johnny” she gasps. It isn’t feigned, it’s not to boost his ego or inflate his head. She’s honest and tugs at him lazily as she works his jeans out of the way, getting comfortable as she shifts on her knees. He’s been hard since he walked through the door, since she’d laid her hand across his thighs in the rec room, like a sad-horny little teenager. So it’s no trouble when she pulls him free from his boxers and finds his cock stood to attention, cold air meeting hot skin- he shivers again.

“Fuck” he mutters, more to himself, it catches her attention when her eyes flicker to his, leaning forward to lick a long stripe from the base of him to his head.

His hips stutter- he’s struggling not to keen into her grip, to fuck his hips up into the heat of her mouth; just to be closer. Her plush lips wrap around the head of his cock, teasing just briefly before her hand begins to pump the base of him, reaching where her mouth can’t when she begins to work at taking him deeper down her throat.

The noises are obscene. Wet sounds of her lips closing around him, all slick with her spit and precum that he’s already leaking for her.

“Shit” Johnny spits, hips jerking, gagging her again, tears springing her eyes. “Fuck- lass ah-h shit” his vision doubles when his hair is curled around a fist and yanked upwards. His mohawk is overgrown and Simon uses the leverage to his own advantage. Johnny’s vision swims, refocusing on Simon when he speaks.

“Think you can handle me, sergeant?” The meaning is open, up for debate, but Johnny has never nodded quicker in his life. His brain is in his cock, all the blood pooling there as she sucks him off, lathing at him with her skilled tongue- she’s sucking the life out of him.

“Fuck- lass” Johnny stutters, smiling lazy as he rolls his neck in her direction, watching her head bobbing up and down, focused only on making him feel good. She lets his cock drop free from her mouth with a wet pop, sucking air in through her teeth. She’s breathless, sweat damp hair line askew as those deep lustful eyes look at him through her lashes.

“Feel good, Johnny?” She asks, fingers wrapping tighter around his cock. “Hmm?” She pokes at him, needing the validation, seeking praise that Simon usually lets her eat up so freely. Before Johnny can register any words that might please her, his hair is caught again, tugged at in Simon’s direction where he meets the sight of his lieutenant staring intently down at him with his cock to hand. Johnny’s mouth gapes, eyes flickering from Simon’s cock to his eyes, never intimidated, waiting for the go-ahead. Johnny bucks his hips up when she ever-so-slightly scrapes her teeth around the girth of him, humming around his cock at the satisfaction it gives her to see what’s unfolding in front of her. Johnny opens his mouth and lets his tongue drop free, never letting his eyes leave Simon’s, he hears when his lieutenant sucks a sharp even breath into his chest.

His hair is tugged at again, neck craning down slightly to allow Simon to close the distance more fairly, he uses his hold on Johnny’s hair and his free hand to guide his cock into Johnny’s waiting mouth. The Scot’s tongue slides across the underside of him, catching a prominent vein and Simon almost fucking loses it. “Shit- Mactavish” he bites, hips jerking when Johnny doesn’t shy away, this clearly isn’t his first time, and that thought alone makes Simon’s spine arch.

Then she makes a noise, a surprised little yelp that catches both of their eyes, she releases Johnny’s cock from her mouth with a smile. “Do that again, Simon” she huffs, breathless, “you’re making him twitch” she seems so pleased with that, her lieutenant making her sergeant’s cock tremor in her throat as she sucks him off. Johnny moans around Simon’s cock and the Brit only tightens his hold in Johnny’s mohawk, fisting the hair around his fingers.

She takes a moment, continuing to pump Johnny in her hand while her free hand dips between her own legs, rubbing herself as she watches Simon fuck Johnny’s throat- maybe watching them tongue each other isn’t the hottest thing she’s seen.

Simon throws his head back, stunting his hips, not wanting to choke Johnny on his cock, maybe not yet at least. Yet, the sergeant seems to want it, chasing Simon’s cock as he tries to retreat, taking more of him down his throat with a filthy moan that makes all three of them shiver with want.

The sounds they all make bleed together. Johnny’s choking on Simon’s cock and she’s whining as she fucks herself on her fingers to the sight of her lieutenant fucking her sergeants throat. It’s any wonder they haven’t been caught, a neighbouring soldier bashing his fist against the wall for them to shut the fuck up - but it’s Ghost’s quarters, so it’s more likely that they know better.

Simon tilts his head, watching her as she works her fingers into pussy while she watches his cock disappear into Johnny’s mouth. She’s mesmerised, but Ghost seeks to sweeten the arrangement. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” Funnily enough, both of them nod, both her and Johnny nodding like cock drunk idiots. Simon smirks to himself. He jerks his head at her and she gives him all of her attention, “come up ‘ere and fuck yourself on his cock, sweetheart”. She stills, both her hand on Johnny’s cock and the one that’s dipped beneath her panties, then she’s moving- no need to be told twice.

The chair is standard, rickety and made of plastic and metal, and Johnny’s huge thighs don’t leave much room for her. Yet, she finds a way, presses her knees into the tops of his thighs to balance herself as she settles her weight on him, eyes still transfixed by watching as he sucks Simon off. Her hands settle onto his shoulders, pulling herself flush to him, leaning forward to his his throat, wishing she could feel the thrust of Simon’s cock against her lips there. “You’re doin’ so well, Johnny boy” she coos, biting her lip with a smile when he groans. Then she’s reaching between them to pull her panties aside, tugging his cock and pressing it against the glistening wetness of her folds.

Simon groans too. “Fuck- Johnny” he rumbles, tugging him closer, pressing his cock deeper until Johnny’s nose meets the tuft of hair below his navel, chocking him with a sound Simon could find himself getting used to. “Jus’ like tha’, Johnny” Simon’s words slur, he’s close, punching his hips forward as Johnny sputters and moans around his cock- she sinks down onto Johnny’s cock in one deep push.

Their moans are strangled together, tied in a knot as she presses her forehead to his collarbone, too much all at once. It stings, buried so deep it feels like her organs shift, he’s bigger then Simon- just slightly in length where Simon makes up for it in girth, but it’s still an entirely new sensation to adjust to. “Ahh- ah shit” she whines, rolling her hips, leaking around Johnny’s cock already, drooling for him. She starts to move, knees pressed into his thighs, nails biting into Soap’s chest till they leave indents in his skin- likely to break skin and bruise.

Johnny has tears in his eyes, moaning around his lieutenant’s cock, his sergeant bouncing on his dick- he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven, or maybe it’s hell, because after this- that’s exactly where he’s headed.

Simon spits something at Johnny that he doesn’t catch, hissed behind his teeth, when he’s forced to say it again Simon snaps- snatches a hand around Soap’s throat and squeezes hard. “Gonna cum in your throat, sergeant” he tells, eyes wild as he pushes his hips forward, rhythm slowing, Johnny tries to nod around him, humming around the girth of Simon’s cock like it’ll cure all of his ailments. As if provoked, Johnny presses his tongue against the underside of Simon’s cock, feeling the thrum of his blood through the veins, beating like a drum. “Fuck” Simon growls, both hands flying to clutch at the hair on Johnny’s head, one last cruel thrust into Johnny’s mouth before he cums down his throat- it’s hot on Johnny’s tongue and it feels never ending.

“Thaaaat’s it Johnny” she moans, sweetly, “swallow it all for us” she leans forward again and kisses his neck, talks him through it with so much sickly-sweet praise it makes his cheeks set alight.

Ghost sounds like a wounded animal, snarling as he cums, vision white and blinding as he comes down from the high, hips slowing completely as he holds Johnny in place for a few drawn out seconds before pulling his mouth off of him entirely. Johnny is given only a brief second to catch his breath, eyes drifting to where his cock disappears into her cunt, swallowed in the tight wet heat of her perfect pussy as it gushes and weeps around him- spoiling his jeans. Before he can even open his mouth the grip on his hair returns, pulled to Simon’s mouth, a tangle of teeth and tongue as Simon licks into his mouth- tasting his own cum on Johnny’s lips.

It’s filthy. Down right fucking disgusting, yet they all moan at the sight and the feeling. She grows wetter, fingers teasing at her own clit as she watches them both, and Ghost can’t seem to get enough of it all. Even while he’s kissing Johnny he reaches out his hand, pushes hers out of the way so he can thumb deftly at her clit- making her squeal.

“Ooh- fuck” she squints her eyes shut, rocking against Simon’s fingers, pussy stretched impossibly for Soap’s cock as she rolls her hips. Both men disconnect the kiss, eyes falling to her, the way her tits sway and bounce as she fucks herself on her sergeants cock, the sight of her pussy gushing for them both, beyond turned on at watching them get off.

“Jesus Christ, lass” Johnny moans, hands desperate to touch her, to tweak her nipples and take hold of her throat, bring her lips to his so he can swallow every single noise his cock punches out of her.

“Gorgeous isn’t she” Simon says, no question about it, a shared thought, one he knows to be true. Johnny nods and throws his head back, fucking up into her now.

“Y’both are” Johnny huffs, chest swelling as he chants a series of curses, losing himself to the pleasure.

Simon isn’t caught of guard, not in this situation, she does it all the time. Tells him how beautiful he is and how good he is to her- but hearing it from Johnny is a whole other feeling, likes it not just her pity or her looming orgasm talking, like it could partly be true.

He sees her smile at Johnny’s words, arching forward, hands splayed across Johnny’s chest as she sinks her teeth into his exposed throat. “I try to tell him Johnny” she whispers, but it’s loud enough for them all to hear, “he just won’t listen to me” she’s smirking when she pulls back, admiring the welt that swells under Johnny’s skin. She throws her head to the side, arching her back and meetings Soap’s thrusts now, matching the sloppy rhythm as their orgasms loom. Simon still works at her clit, pressed close her side, then he catches her lips, let’s her taste him, both of them. “Make me cum” she breathes, panting against his lips, and although he would usually deny her for his own sick and twisted amusement- tonight isn’t the night.

Johnny straightens. “Whatta‘bout me?” He smirks, eyes lazy when he leans forward, she smiles and Simon’s eyelids grow heavy, his chest feeling just as. She circles her hips to make Johnny squirm and she’s throws her arms around both of their necks, bringing the three of them impossibly close. It doesn’t really work, their foreheads knock together but they catch one another’s lips, it’s more teeth and bitten lips, but Johnny’s cock grows even harder inside her at the attempted three-way kiss- Simon is the one to break it.

Something cracks open in his chest, a free space, it’s warm and inviting and it’s getting out of hand. But he can’t stop his hands when they reach out for Soap, guided towards the shoe laces that hold his hands behind his back. He tugs at them until they snap away, one falls the the floor while the other bites into Johnny’s wrist, the frayed remnants of it handing loosely off the chair. Before Johnny can clutch for purchase at either of them, Simon grabs his hand and guides it to his mask, he watches the emotions play out on the Scot’s face. Confusion, intrigue and adoration when Simon guides him to fully remove the mask.

Just as Johnny remembers him - tragically beautiful. Scarred and marked by his life, but gorgeously rugged and handsome nonetheless.

Johnny smiles and thumbs over Simon’s cheek as his hand is held there, something shifts right there and then, something beyond fucking and sharing spit. Simon leans forward and Johnny thinks it’s for a kiss, but Simon presses a finger to his lips instead. “Cum in her pussy, Johnny”.

Soap’s eyes harden, as if challenged, and there’s nothing he can’t set his mind to and complete.

His free hands clutch for her now, at her thighs and her hips, leaning forward to close the space, to fuck her with abandon as she stutters her words- clutching for both Simon and Johnny when they both set their hands on her. Simon presses his chest to her spine, loops his arm around her and goes for her clit again, matching the rhythm with strokes of his fingers. “Oh my god” she whines, throwing her head back against Ghost’s shoulder. “F-fuck” she’s crying now too, probably for more then one reason after tonight, but Johnny fucks her through it.

“Cum f’me lass, come on now” his teeth are grit.

Simon pushes her over that edge, he’s done it hundreds of times now, he could do in his sleep with his hands tied behind his back, he knows her body as well as he knows his own now- if not better. The feeling of her orgasm brings Johnny there too, clamping around him, squeezing around his cock so tightly it feels like the circulation will cut off. He howls like a wounded dog, hips punching up, seating his cock as deep as it will go when he finally cums inside of her.

They’re all panting. Breaths twining as the room spins and the muggy smell of sex and sweat lingers in the air, stifling and groggy.

She shifts, Johnny’s cock barely softening inside of her and she laughs, dazed and eyes wide.

Johnny whistles as he catches his breath. “Fuck me” he huffs with a lopsided smile, still breathless.

Simon laughs- something dark, meeting Johnny’s eyes with a smirk.

“That an order, sergeant?”