#ghoap throuple

[shotmrmiller]

i'd think it'd take simon two times of him listening to johnny vent about all the shit dates he's had and how he's been abstinent for so long his virginity's gonna grow back for simon to be like "alright," with a casual shrug. "i'll let you fuck my wife."

johnny has a bitty little crush on you so he doesn't even question it. better agree to it before simon comes to his senses.

he tells him to come over for dinner tomorrow at 7 sharp. any later and he'll take that as johnny changing his mind. (delusional. johnny knows simon can see the raging hard on he's had since he brought you up.)

johnny asking why not tonight and simon uses you as an excuse. that he's gotta talk to you. warm you up to the idea. but in reality simon wants to fill you up, leave you full, overly so, of his come so when johnny plugs you up, he can see it leaking out of your cunt and coat johnny's cock. (he's had quite a few drinks tonight but that imagery is what makes his head spin. it's got him gripping the neck of his bottle hard enough to crack.)

[shotmrmiller]

ghoap throuple !!!

and shelf-stocker reader feeling the eyes that follow her, his gaze heavy, wondering about his intent is the dream tbh.

let's talk about ghost's fat cock

like gossiping hens who're all talking about their experience with mr. morose and his heaving meat cleaver over a couple of wine bottles lmao

(btw screamed when you followed back)

TONI! HI!! ❤️

i can picture reader and Johnny in some ghoap throuple discussing how… well-endowed Ghost is. they’re so cute. maybe he braids her hair while they chat and giggle or something LOL

also to tack on your recent drabble of ghost/reader who’s a shelf-stocker has glued itself onto my eyelids. i loooove myself a humdrum and prose-like reader being observed by Ghost like she’s under a petri dish… where she’s reluctantly invisible and he’s invisible by choice

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part One

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 1.2k Series warnings (may update between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, angst, death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings

How it all started

I wake up to the first knock.

The apartment is warm, despite the fact that it's the second month into winter, and quiet. Peaceful, even. Winnie is probably already at work. The café doesn't need me for at least another hour.

I turn my head to look at the clock on the nightstand. 8 a.m. I can't think of a single reason why someone would be knocking here so early, so I roll over and try to go back to sleep, thinking that I might've just imagined it. Last night was a long one. I couldn't fall asleep, so I stayed awake watching endless reruns of Friends until - at 3 a.m. - I finally knocked out.

It's times like these, when the insomnia kicks in and I feel completely alone, when I can't wait for Alex to be home.

Alex, my heroic older brother. The SAS soldier always on some mission or other to save the world. He's on another top secret op at the moment, but last time we spoke he said that it looked like they'd be home at the end of the month. The new unit he's been assigned to have been keeping him occupied. He couldn't tell me much on the call, but it sounds like they've welcomed him into the fold with open arms, just like all the other units he's worked with in the past. That and he's still worried about me - something that he's been in a perpetual state of since the dawn of time.

Hopefully he'll be home soon though.

Just as my eyes start to close, there's another knock at the door. This one's more persistent.

Definitely not in my imagination.

I throw the covers to the side, adjusting the hem of the heavy knitted sweater I fell asleep in to make sure that it's people-appropriate, and stepping into my slippers as I make a beeline for the door. I drag my feet out of my bedroom and down the hallway towards the front door.

When I open it, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach.

There's a tall man with light brown hair and a beanie standing out in the hallway. His dark eyes are tired but kind, a thick scruffy beard covering his jawline as he stands there, hands behind his back, feet shoulder-width apart. He takes one look at my slight frame, half-hidden behind the door and closes his eyes, shaking his head with a quiet, "Bloody fucking hell."

I tilt my head to one side, confused. I'm just about to ask him if I know him when he says, "Are you Talia Keller? Alex's sister?"

Just like that, my heart starts thundering inside my ribcage. I reach out to put a hand on the doorframe, knowing that it's all I can do to stop my knees from buckling.

The stranger on my doorstep meets my eyes once again and I can see it.

"Please...no-"

He shakes his head, those kind eyes refusing to shy away from my tear-filled gaze. "It is with deep regret and my upmost sympathy that I am here to inform you of the death of your brother, Operations Officer Alex Keller. He died on active duty, contributing to a rescue mission that, because of his sacrifice, saved a lot of lives." I choke on a sob. "I am so very sorry for your loss."

My vision blurs and the sound that leaves my mouth is horrible. It's a sob, so loud and violent that I almost can't believe I made it. "No," I whimper.

"May I come inside?" the stranger asks, nodding past me at the empty apartment. His hands aren't behind his back now. They're in front of him, palms open like he's placating a wounded animal.

My own sobbing eclipses any other noise in the hallway as I take a few shaky steps back, giving him access to the doorway. He walks inside slowly, like he's giving me time to take the unspoken invitation back. I don't.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep myself from falling apart. But my brother is dead. My sweet, perfect brother who I'll never see again.

"I- oh god, I'm going to be sick," I manage to choke out, stumbling back until I hit the side of my armchair.

The stranger swoops in then, gently easing me down onto the sofa. I shouldn't let him - shouldn't have let this man into my home. He could be anyone. But he spoke about Alex with the reverence of someone who knew him personally. He must of to be here now, telling me this awful, fucked up news.

I tip forward, my head finding my hands as I cradle myself, my whole body shaking with the effort of not crumbling to the ground.

Alex was all I had left. We were orphans: each other's only living relatives. Now I'm alone.

"Is there anyone I could call for you?" the man asks, his gravelly voice even softer than it was to begin with. I hate his sympathy with a passion, but I don't have the energy to call him on it. "You shouldn't be alone at a time like this. Alex told me that the two of you were very close."

The words bring a fresh wave of pain ripping straight through my heart.

His question reminds me of Winnie. She's already made enough sacrifices for me; I can't pull her away from her work. I don't know what to do. There's no one else I can call. It was Alex and Winnie. Winnie and Alex. No one else.

"Alex was... he was all I had." The words both sound and feel pathetic as they leave my mouth. I lift my head and see that he's watching me, dark eyes far from judgemental. "I can't- I don't know what..."

"Look," he says softly, one large paw of a hand coming to rest on my upper arm, his warmth radiating through the thick cable-knit. "Take a deep breath for me. He wouldn't want this for you."

We sit there for a while as I calm myself down, getting through the worst of hyperventilating. Slowly, the tears come to a weak ebb. A numbness fills me; a disbelief that he's truly gone.

"I know that this is probably the last thing on your mind right now, but we had him cremated. It was written in his file that that's what he wanted. We'll send the ashes and his dog tags to you as per his request." He shifts in the armchair. I can't help but notice just how haunted he looks as he meets my gaze. "My name is Captain Price, but you can call me John. I was your brother's unit commander. You might not want to talk to me right now - might blame me even - and I understand that, but I'll leave my personal phone number here with you. If you ever need anything, anything at all, please call me."

I nod softly, rubbing my knuckles along the undersides of my eyes. "Thank you, John."

He nods once then stands up, the muscles of his thighs straining against the sandy-khaki material of his cargos. Instead of heading straight for the door, he walks across to the desk, opening Winnie's smiley face notepad and writing a number down on the first blank page. His number.

I don't look up when he leaves. The door closes with a soft click and then - just like Alex - he's gone.

a/n: hey guys! hope y'all liked part one. don't worry - you'll meet the guys very soon... sorry if this part was a little bit boring, just want to set the scene before all the good stuff happens 🙃 - see ya soon, lapetitelapin

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 1; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately.

Ghost listens because the periods between missions are long and colourless—he fills the time with paperwork, PT, exhausting his muscles in the gym, and dissociating in a booth at the only good pub on base when Johnny drags him along—and it’s better to tune out the thoughts in his head and replace them with something else. Besides, for as much as he gripes about poorly trained dogs barking too much, he enjoys the sound of Johnny’s voice. It quiets the faint ringing that follows him wherever he goes, an agitated humming that leaves him, on his best days, on the brink of rage.

“Tinnitus,” a doctor says when he brings it up during a routine check-up. Can you shut that fucking noise up?

“Best we can do is get you hearing aids.” Apologetic, sincere even. Stained, as always though, by a trembling, noxious unease. It emanates off the doctor in waves. 

Hard not to feel uneasy around a man in a mask, Ghost assumes. That’s all part of it though. He doesn’t cultivate comfort, doesn’t attempt to engender soft feelings or put the mind at ease. His body and persona are designed to put the body and mind on the knife’s edge of fear, and then tip it over. He leaves the sweet talking and charming to men like Johnny, who babbles red language in a tongue like larkspur. 

Ghost’s first language is oil slick. It stains and it covers and it darkens everything it touches. 

And now, Johnny’s talking about a bird.

A couple months after Las Almas, the first picture comes out. Not a folded up keepsake tucked away in the pocket of a bag or a wallet or the inside of his jacket, but right on Johnny’s lockscreen on his phone. He disapproves at first glance. Not of the girl, but at the thought of keeping something so valuable on display for anyone to see. It’s not how he functions. Everything sacred is burned, destroyed, or—if precious enough—buried so deep underground that salt miners might greet it on the way down.

“Pretty, eh?” Johnny goads, nudging Ghost with his shoulder. He’s all wide grin, eyes electric-blue like the flames of Kawah Ijen. 

She is pretty. Pretty as pie. Not a speck of grit or blood on her; if there’s any edge to her at all, it’s tempered by her smile in the photo on Johnny’s phone. A sugar sweet cunt, by the looks of it, sure it’d taste like candy if he got his mouth on it. He angles his eyes with Johnny’s lips and wonders how many times he’s eaten her out, if hers was the last cunt he ate. Likely. His boy’s the loyal kind, hard to shake off once he’s got his teeth in. Swapping spit or blood, he doesn’t leave once he’s got a taste. 

“Where’d you find her?” he asks instead of agreeing, and takes a swig from the bottle in front of him. The bar’s hardly filled out yet; the two of them come early because Ghost’s an old man—that’s what Johnny would say—and doesn’t like to be around people once the sun’s set. It’s a burnished gold now, sun hovering low in the sky when Ghost turns an eye to it. 

“Florist. Met her when I picked up flowers for mam’s birthday.”

Nearly a month then. “And I’m just hearin’ about this now?”

Not in this same pub three times a week since then. Not on the tarmac, suited up and sweating already beneath two layers of gear. Not in the shower beside Ghost’s, fingers reaching over the side for a bar of soap because Johnny can’t be arsed to get his own. Not with his head slumped to let Ghost shave the sides of his head nice and neat, thick fingers splayed over the delicate bone of his skull that Ghost knows would take nothing to break. 

It rankles him until he looks back down at the phone in his hands—the one he’d plucked from Johnny’s fingers even while he whined about Ghost always stealing his shit—and feels his heartbeat slow. It levels out like staring into the scope of a rifle, the molecules of his breath melding with the molecules of the air until even the sound of his heartbeat dulls to the insects around him. 

Johnny purses his lips. “…Wasn’t sure then. Am now.”

“Cunt’s a cunt. What’s there to be sure about?”

“No.” Johnny shakes his head vehemently. “She’s no’ like that. She’s special—I’m telling ye, Lt—” he stresses when Ghost snorts, the sound thick with scepticism, “—she’s a good egg. Smart one. Sweet as pie.”

Sweet as pie. Mutt half-shares his thoughts these days. They must have brought more home than just shellshock and keloids. 

Johnny squawks when Ghost unlocks his phone and thumbs through his photos, trying to wrench it out of Ghost’s hand to no avail. He’s easy to hold back. All he has to do is put down his beer for a second and get a handful of hair and jerk, and there it is. Peace and quiet. A wince bleeding into his peripheral vision while Johnny mumbles something under his breath about him being a mean bastard. 

He snorts again. Even from Johnny, he’s heard worse. 

There isn’t much left of him these days. A tired husk and a taste for Guinness. He bleeds and shaves and wipes it off, smells the viscera still staining his mask that he hardly ever washes, can’t bear to honestly. Waste of fucking time, as far as he’s concerned. Just going to get dirtied again, soaked in blood again within the week. Shaves his head too just to have less to deal with, less to distract him from the single-minded intensity he brings to the job. He’d dematerialize if he could, become a ghost in name and shape, if only the laws of physics allowed. 

Instead he’s saddled with a body that echoes back his age in creaking joints and low back pain. Scar tissue that aches when it gets cold. 

In the months he’s known Johnny, he’s never let himself think about the world outside their bubble. His rank demands a certain level of socialising, and while he doesn’t schmooze with the brass like other lieutenants might, Ghost hardly has the privilege of isolating himself all the time, but still he can count the people he considers close on one hand. 

Not family, but close. The thought of family is sheathed within him; he knows to leave the knife in lest he bleed. Still, Johnny’s fought his way onto the list and now he has to pay with his pound of flesh. 

There’s a switch that’s been off for years, closer to a couple decades, and it flips back on when he finds this man that trusts him without question, that follows his orders and looks up at him with these big, puppy blue eyes. It twists something in his chest. It turns him into a thing that says maybe it’s better to take than just covet. 

There are other photos of the girl in Johnny’s phone, some likely not meant for present company (Johnny flushes red when Ghost flips to a picture of his bird in a pretty little number, lace cupping her tits and ass, sitting on Johnny’s bed back home and looking back at him over her shoulder with a little grin). Still, it interests him to see this side of his boy; he’s maybe thought of it before in abstract terms. He knows that Johnny’s no stranger to a wandering eye, not with the way he’s built and his pretty boy face. He’s well acquainted with Johnny’s dick, hard not to be in such close quarters; it’s a nice, pretty thing, just like him, a good handful. Nothing like the ruddy battering ram in between Ghost’s legs. The one Johnny once got a glimpse of in the showers after a two week long stint in Kyrgyzstan and paled, mouth gaping open while he stared until he could finally laugh it off. 

Ghost remembers thinking detachedly about how lovely that little gaped open mouth would feel around his cock. 

Surprising that it took this long for him to cotton on to his own desires. 

“Bring ‘er around then. I’ll see for myself how sweet she is.”

Johnny scowls at the sudden uproar from a nearby table. “No’ a chance in hell. Dinnae trust any of these fuckers to behave around her.”

Ghost hums. He’s not wrong to be wary; under the table, Ghost runs a hand over his bulge and gives it a squeeze, lifting his thigh to readjust. She has a lovely mouth too. 

He’s been breathing fire and brimstone recently. Hungering to hear something break. It takes Johnny’s hand on his arm to hold him back, every cigarette puffed down to the filter. The pictures on Johnny’s phone make it seem easy though. 

Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately, preening at every opportunity to show her off. He doesn’t know that it takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost’s brain to file the girl in Johnny’s phone under mine, slotting her right under Johnny in that category and isn’t that just perfect because it also takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost to imagine what she might look like under Johnny. 

He hands Johnny back the phone, face down. “You get one week. Then I wanna meet your bird.”

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 14 - make-up sex

ghoap x f!reader | 1k words cw: established throuple, blowjob, masturbation, brief mention of piv a/n: can you write makeup sex without mentioning what the argument was about? yes. very lightly edited, written on mobile. went off list for this. summary: making ‘em kiss. aka, playing the mediator. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

The heat always puts them in shitty moods.

Since you separated them after dinner, after their yelling match, they’ve sat on opposite ends of the living room, partly absorbed in their phones. But their frustrations are palpable things, simmering in the way they move and the way they avoid looking at each other. Every slight sound or movement—Johnny setting a glass down too hard, Simon sighing a little too loud—seems to deepen the divide.

It’s alien, seeing them like this when they’re usually so in sync, each functioning as an extension of the other. Wrong.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, the air cools, and everything starts to feel lighter. If the temperature can break, you think, so can the tension. They just need a little guidance.

It takes some coaxing, more Simon than Johnny, but you corral them to the bedroom. Make them face each other as you undress the few layers they wore in the day. Let them talk it out in stunted, strained sentences as you help them along, knelt between them, each fist curled partway around a cock. Rogue droplets of sweat trickle down their chests to their abs and over the planes of their stomachs. Evidence that the heat is not entirely gone.

It’s Johnny who tries to puppet you toward his leaking head first, breaking the conversation to urge your mouth onto his dick with a few sweet words. You don’t fall for it.

“You want your cock sucked, MacTavish?” You bat away his hands, then give him a little scritch through his happy trail with a small smile. “Ask Simon nicely. Apologize.”

Johnny whines when you pull away and perch on the edge of the bed.

Simon stares down his nose at your other boyfriend, uncrossing his arms and rolling his wrists. He huffs like a bull through his nose, looking undecided and unimpressed when Johnny turns back with a sheepish look.

He rubs the back of his neck and grumbles. “Sorry for how I spoke to ye. Didnae mean it.”

A beat of silence passes before Simon reaches and pushes a hand over Johnny’s mohawk, his palm coming away slightly damp before he wipes it along the stubble on his cheek. It’s tender until—

“Yeah? Sure you don’t just want to get off? Use me like you always do?”

“Hey.” You correct, eyes narrowing. “Do we need to step back to talk more?”

Both men return their attention to the other, and an entire second discussion transpires without words. Neither of them seem keen to use much of them anymore, especially as Johnny grips the base of his cock, and shudders.

“Simon…”

The big man rolls his eyes skyward, raking a hand over his own face, smothering some muttered version of can’t say no to that face. When his knees hinge, and his weight starts to drop, you and Johnny both hold your breaths and do so until Simon is on his knees in front of Johnny.

“C’mere,” he grunts, grabbing Johnny by the ass cheek and hauling him closer. His mitt wraps around the cock in front of him, fingers closing without issue in a firm grip. “You’re gonna give me another apology, aren’t you?”

“Mm, f-fuck, yes,” Johnny groans, hips bucking further into Simon’s hand. “Use your mouth? Please?”

Simon doesn’t answer or comply immediately. He meets your eye first, lip tugging up when he spies you snaking a hand into your shorts. He chuckles. It’s a filthy sound. “Always gets what ‘e wants…” 

Your fingers slip inside as Simon’s mouth closes around Johnny’s cock. The latter lets out a prolonged, deep moan, cursing up a storm as his hands slide over Simon’s buzzed scalp.

It’s a sight that’ll never get old. Your boys making up in their favorite way. 

You come once around your fingers when Simon pops off Johnny’s cock to nuzzle, then suck the sensitive skin of his sac into his mouth, stretching it just enough to get the Scot to squeal. He kisses the tested skin, pumping his fist lazily along Johnny’s cock once more. 

Johnny’s a moaning, blubbering mess. The vein at his temple throbs, probably from restraint. You know he’d love to just fuck Simon’s face like this. He chokes up when he speaks. “I…I dinnae want to use ye. I’m just–what do ye want me to say–”

Simon laughs again, nuzzling the base of Johnny’s dick. “Fuckin’ rare to find you at a loss for words. Got a suggestion for our boy?” He eyes you over the length in his hand, mouthing it idly.

You pause from licking your fingertips. Looking between the men, you swallow. “Say ‘thank you’ first,  Johnny. Then apologize again.”

He nods, complying at once with a stuttering whine when one of Simon’s fingers wedges between his cheeks. 

“That’s a good boy,” Simon rumbles. “You can come any time. Use me, Johnny.”

You tense up and find yourself rubbing your sensitive clit yet again. Lip caught between your teeth, you shudder as Johnny slides home into Simon’s mouth again.

This time, he fucks him. You don’t let him do it to you, afraid he’d break your nose with his speed and force—but Simon’s made of tougher stuff. Made to take Johnny in all meanings of the words. He doesn’t gag, doesn’t push. He absorbs the rough thrusts into his face with a few grunts and swallows around Johnny when he comes howling.

The room goes quiet after, save for all three of you breathing heavily.

Except, you’re still going—still chasing your own orgasm. Greedy and unashamed.

Simon pops his neck when he stands and herds Johnny closer to you. The men loom. You watch their glassy eyes sharpen in real time as they watch you touch yourself, and it’s a team effort when they join you on the bed. Simon nudges your knees open, and Johnny settles beside your head.

Johnny strokes your cheek and coos at your pinched brow before snatching your hand away from your swollen clit. He kisses your fingertips, tongue flicking out to taste.

“Yer owed an apology too, aren’t ye, hen.”

Your breath hitches as Simon’s cockhead presses in. A blissful delirium slips over your face. You beam up at him.

“We made you worry, yeah? Therrre’s a girl—We’ll make it up to ya. Give you a few big sorrys.”

Later, sandwiched between them, your sweat and other fluids cooling in the long stretch of night, you belatedly count their apologies. Dizzying.

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Ghoap but it's just like, "So im fucking Johnny. And I'm fucking you, and then we're all doing all that so why not just throuple it." Because they don't wanna cause drama between you three but it does. Because now everyone thinks that you're fucking the Lt. but somehow soap doesn't get any misfire.

"How in the fuck do you not have rumors."

"Im just better ken?"

So therefore you all can go in a room. Three people one room. And somehow they're just going to ignore Johnny. And ignore the sounds too. Like what the fuck.

Ps: You're getting suffocated front and back because these men are both touch starved and fucking huge. Like it's not even funny how there's tits at the back of your head suffocating you because you're getting flattened into another's back. Okay maybe it is.

[ohcaptains]

having the most violent and obscene ghoap thoughts where you live together as a throuple and one time during a pretty intense scene, you get super upset that you’ve made johnny mad, because he’s always the soft and gentle one. the sweet one, who teases but is never mad. never frowns and tells you off. his face never goes dark, and his dominance has never come from a place of meanness before, but in your subby, spaced mind, you think you’ve really upset him.

it doesn’t help that simon tuts. says, you’ve gone and upset him now, love, and that breaks you. makes you turn to johnny and pout through tears.

i’m sorry, you sob. johnny, i’m sorry.

simon laughs meanly at you. don’t see ya’ apologising for making me angry. and you don’t mean it, not really. you’re just in such a delicate space. strung out from coming a handful of times — from the mix of pleasure and pain, that you sob, but you’re always angry.

you don’t see simon’s jaw twitch. don’t see the way his face clouds over, because you’re too busy crying up at johnny, saying, johnny baby, m’sorry, until the tears build to hysterics, and simon’s letting go of your hands. johnny’s cradling your head in his lap, and he’s wiping tears from your cheeks.

hey, shh, shh.

um’ sorry, i didn’t —

i know, i know lass.

and just simon wringing his hands and not knowing what to do with himself, because it’s one thing knowing that he’s angry, but it’s different when you’re crying it up at him and ohhhh just. just simon sitting in the garden at night, smoking, and thinking about it, because you didn’t do anything wrong, because you’re right. he is always angry.

[shotmrmiller]

‘Single dad’ Soap, who’s kid doesn’t get along with your kid, so now he’s suggesting ya’ll have play dates together so they can:

‘Sort it. Yer ken?”

Your little one has never mentioned any issues in the classroom before, but hey, you invite Johnny and his small terror around for snacks.

(For the record Johnnys little boy and your small ones get on like a house on fire immediately - rushing outside and playing soldiers in the garden. But children can be like that right?)

There’s something just slightly off about Johnny. You can’t quite put your finger on it. He’s handsome, but the intensity in those summer sky flavoured eyes is bordering on too much. That smile of his shows his teeth in a way that’s wolfish, it makes you nervous, like he wants to gobble you up in one bite.

His small talk is charming, with a narrow edge of aggressive flirtation. Very quickly you’re telling him about separating from your baby daddy and everything that’s happened since, then you realise Johnnys told you barely anything about himself.

When you ask he just stretches and replies:

“Nuthin o’interest here lass.”

So you drop the questions, imagining maybe it’s painful and he doesn’t want to discuss his relationship past. A soured love is always bitter to the taste, even years afterwards.

Johnny says goodbye to you with a kiss to the cheek and a promise that he’ll host next time. Your kids whine - they don’t want playtime to end. But you’re slightly relieved Johnny isn’t hanging around any longer.

The next day at school pick up, he comes bounding up to you like an overexcited retriever, planting another overly familiar, scratchy peck on your face.

“Yer all invited ta dinner this evenin’ Bonnie. Simon’s so lookin’ forward ta it.”

There’s a glint in Johnny’s eye that says very plainly there is no polite way of getting out of this arrangement. Then he nods his head back towards the road, where potentially the most off putting man you’ve ever seen leans against a dark car. Face half masked and black eyes boring into yours, so wide he conceals most of the drivers side door with his bulk.

Not so single dad Johnny it turns out. You should have asked more questions.

(Needless to say, there was no issue between your kids - they got along fine. But hey, your WhatsApp picture in the school group chat was just so pretty, Simon had to send Johnny out to make landfall with you somehow. Soon, you’ll all be the best of friends. Obvs.)

I don’t know where this came from - your Ghoap inspired me 🙃 delete it if you hate it NP

you're about to ask him if that's his (very large) brother when the munchkin you do know throws himself at him screaming daddy. oh. you shoot him a stiff, polite smile before turning back to johnny. "wouldn't want to impose," you mutter. he's looking at you like you're something to be devoured. "i know the kids can be a bit much—" but johnny's having none of it. loops an arm around your waist, pulling you to him until you're hip to hip.

"no such thing, bonnie." when you open your mouth to argue, his grip tightens almost painfully. "we'll see ye then. and wear that colorful dress you've got. simon'll like it."

he means the one you're wearing in your nextdoor pfp.

did you hear him say you'll want him to like it? surely not.

[ink-n-shadow]

cw: smut (minors—DNI), pet play, throuple (ghoap x reader), bondage, brat!soap, reader is AFAB

puppy!soap bringing you back to his owner like the good little mutt he is, hoping to be rewarded for the find by ghost letting him feast on your sweet little cunt. only for owner!ghost go remember just how bratty his pup was yesterday and to tie puppy!soap up in black jute rope, making him watch as ghost laps lazily at your slick pussy.

(you’re just so obedient and pliant under ghost’s hands that he might have to keep you around. to keep his mutt in line, of course)

[la-petite-lapin]

Ghost x reader x soap fic! (in planning)

Very slowly coming up with a plan for the fic 🙃🥲

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco - AUs

Collection of AU works featuring the characters and relationship from Dead Disco. Dead Disco masterlist All works are 18+ Minors DNI. All works contain mature themes. READ THE TAGS.

Baby Trap AU: 18+ Dark and twisted themes. Explicit sex. Collection of asks revolving around Simon and Johnny baby trapping Darling by replacing her birth control with placebo to get her pregnant on purpose. Tag: baby trap au Original ramble here. Main asks: Breeding kink "What a good girl." List of things "You taste different." That little piece of foil "I'm not." Abortion Spits Grocery store Tranquilizer post tranq Ghost "I want to lay down." Grocery store pt 2 Sobs Darling dies "I need a break" Did you do this? Did you do this aftermath Phone call Hospital After hospital Doting and annoying Cramps cramps pt 2 Johnny "Darling, please!" Celestialpax - baby trap reverse uno card someone calls the cops Mango smoothie Team sport

Disco baby AU: 18+ Minors DNI. Mature themes. Collection of asks revolving around Darling getting pregnant on accident. Tag: disco baby au Main asks: Ultimate angst Cloud kick Hovering Cupcake Thoughts Birthday party You get it Johnny punches your boyfriend Baby girl Bee on the doorstep Bee and the guys after the doorstep The phone call - taken The phone call - angst The rescue insufferable

Omegaverse AU: 18+ mature themes. Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Explicit sex. Collection of asks/drabbles revolving around the throuple existing in omegaverse. Tag: dead disco omegaverse au Tamale anon "I think there are a lot of things we don't know." The suppressants What if Darling went MIA Lost and Found Pillow talk Warming You're safe Conversation Second heat

Zombie AU: Undead Disco 18+ mature themes. Collection of asks/drabbles revolving around the throuple existing during a zombie apocalypse Tag: dead disco zombie au or undead disco Ghoap x reader zombie au? What if darling was in Simon's place Immune darling humming Gollum Changes https-shogun Packing

Fantasy AU: 18+ mature themes. Collection of asks/drabbles revolving around the throuple existing in a fantasy timeline. The Seer Warprize princess If you're a... No notes Horseback

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 6; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

Johnny cleans up the lamp in the morning.

He might as well, being on second watch and all. Ghost wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn with a gentle kick to the ribs (gentle for him) before rolling over on the couch and going right to sleep. It’s routine for them to fall into sleep like rocks sinking in water, but the waking up is never quite as graceful. Johnny snorts awake and whips his head around sharply from side to side before confirming that he’s just in his girlfriend’s apartment and the asshole that woke him up is just his ornery lieutenant. 

“I better not hear any fuckin’ jabber,” is all Ghost says before closing his eyes. Johnny chews his lip to keep the grin off of his face.

He tries to keep it down after that. For the first couple of hours, he sits up against the wall and scrolls on his phone. That keeps him occupied until any lingering exhaustion is flushed from his veins.

There’s a broom and dustpan in a small closet in the kitchen where his girl also keeps the garbage bags and compost bin that he uses to sweep up the mess, and he tries to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up. The glass makes a tinkling sound as it’s swept up though, just loud enough that it inevitably wakes his girl up.

She comes creeping out of her room late into the morning, the shop not due to open for another hour or two. The late weekend opening hours mean she usually gets to sleep in. 

Weeks back, it used to be something that Johnny got to do with her as well, cuddled until she’d suddenly pull away, then waking up to her swallowing his cock, peeking under the bedsheets to find her pretty head bobbing up and down his length. Groaning and palming her head to press her lips down to the base, eyes rolling back at the sound of her gagging around his length, the base of his dick a mess of come and drool. 

In the present day though, she clears her throat. Johnny blinks and refocuses on her. 

Her eyes flit to Ghost’s still form on the couch and when they dart back to Johnny, he raises a finger to his lips. Let the man rest. It’s the least Johnny can do for him after he dragged him back to his girl’s place to make amends. She hazards another cautious glance at Ghost—his lieutenant lies still as a statue on the couch, motionless like he isn’t even breathing—before pursing her lips, displeased. 

In the light of day, his previous anger feels cleansed. He understands now. They’ve gone about this all wrong, topsy-turvy. He’s been chasing his own tail and making a mess of things for far too long now, but Ghost’s voice is clear in his head now. It settles him.  

So when his girl goes to open her mouth, maybe thinking that she can whisper softly enough so as not to wake Ghost up, he steps forward quickly and covers her mouth. 

She squawks behind his hand. Again, he shakes his head. Any sound would be too loud for the man slumbering on her couch. 

Johnny can feel her swallow behind his palm and it almost makes him salivate. His fingers twitch on her cheeks like he might press them into the soft skin and make her lips pout. 

“Not here,” he murmurs, almost mouthing the words.

He waits until she nods before removing his hand. Then he leaves to go dump the dustpan filled with glass into the trash. 

She corners him in the bathroom after that and it’s all he can do not to come in his pants. It’s not his fault he’s been trigger happy since Ghost tugged them off on the sparring mats and came on his stomach; he’s been pent up since the last time he saw her. There’s still flakes of dried come on his belly. He only half resists lifting his shirt to look. If his girl knew, she’d be mortified. 

He wonders if she’d be more upset that he let Ghost beat off on him or that he didn’t clean up his mess. 

Johnny lets the bird guide him to the toilet, letting her shove him down onto the lid.

“Ah, hen, ye really wanna do this now?” he teases, spreading his legs and wrapping his hands around her waist to reel her in, slipping up her shirt at the same time. 

He almost moans when she slaps him across the face, biting his lip when she gasps right after, surprised at her own actions. “Oh—fuck—I’m so sorry—”

He clicks his tongue, lips curling up into an impish grin. “Dinnae worry, baby. ‘M tougher than I look.”

It’s a small mercy that she’s too agitated to really look him over because if she were to direct her gaze even slightly south, she’d find Johnny’s shaft straining against his fly, hard enough to pound nails the second her hand touched his face. He swallows a groan and his fingers tighten, sinking deeper into her flesh. 

“I didn’t mean to—Jesus, it doesn’t matter.” He loves that when she gets frustrated, her bottom lip juts out. It makes him want to sink his teeth into it. “When your…boss or whatever…wakes up, can you please take him and leave?”

“Leave?” Johnny repeats, blinking up at her innocently. 

“Yes. Leave,” she says, stressing the word. He hums and strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach, pleased that she hasn’t yet told him to take his hands off her. Sweet little bird. “We kissed and made up. That’s what you came for, right? So the two of you can get going once he wakes up.”

“No breakfast?” 

She looks distinctly unimpressed. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

“Aye, I ken, baby,” Johnny croons, pulling her in closer, smiling when she squeaks and braces her hands on his shoulders, his face almost cradled between her breasts. He turns his head to kiss one, mouth lingering over the cotton of her shirt, tempted almost to bite and rip it. “It’s jus’ that…seems an awful like the second Simon and I take off, you’re jus’ gonna go right back to cold shouldering me. Sure you’re nae jus’ putting on a little show for me now?”

Her fingers grip him by the fabric of his shirt. “Johnny—” She yelps when he bites the inside of her breast, snarling when she tries to pull away. “Okay, okay, okay, I got it—”

“That’s right,” he says with a content sigh, pulling back just the slightest bit. “You’re nae going anywhere. Not until we’ve talked this out, nice and civil.”

When she stares down at him, wide-eyed, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, it’s a rush like he’s never experienced. He feels right in the flow of things now, his head on straight for once. 

“What’s there to talk about?” she mumbles, and he almost melts. “I’m not mad anymore.”

“Nae mad? Then why’re ye trying to kick us out?”

“Because I’m busy, Johnny,” she snaps. “The shop’s opening in an hour and I don’t have time to babysit the two of you.”

“Ye willnae even notice we’re here, hen, I promise. Fuck, I’ll even help ye out—make some deliveries, go shake anyone down that still owes ye—”

“I don’t shake down my customers, Johnny—”

“Whatever ye need, baby.” He drags his palms up her sides, pulling up her shirt with his hands. Her tits pop out like ripe fruit dangling in front of his mouth, puffy nipples begging to be sucked on. “Simon and I will be right here. Ye can use us however ye want.”

He stares at her nipple while saying that, unconsciously leaning forward until his lips graze her skin and his tongue pokes out. She doesn’t budge, just curses under her breath and lets him rub his tongue over her beaded nipple, shaking in his hold. Johnny bets if he pulled down those little sleep shorts of hers, he’d find a wet little cunt begging for a fat cock to fill her up. 

It’d take nothing for him to pull them down and give her what she’s asking for. The love of his life is tucked away beneath a layer of flimsy cotton and begging for him to give her some love and affection. Johnny hasn’t kissed her in God knows how long—a week? Two? He’d probably find her swollen and aching beneath her shorts; could get her to come just by dragging two fingers up the seam of her. 

He knows what Ghost would say though, so he drags his teeth over her nipple just for the pleasure of feeling her flinch and then pulls back. The bird blinks down at him with hazy eyes when he helps readjust her shirt, pulling it back down to cover her gorgeous tits, a damp spot on her shirt over the nipple he just had in his mouth. 

“We’re not going to…?” she asks, letting the question dangle in midair. She says it without thinking—clearly, because the second it dawns on her that she just asked if they were going to fuck in the bathroom with Johnny sitting on the toilet, she looks horrified with herself. It’s beyond endearing. 

“No’ with Simon in the other room, baby. Wouldnae be fair for him to have to listen in.”

He doesn’t tell her that fairness in this case doesn’t mean cruel. It means that it wouldn’t be possible. 

Still, he needs to shoo her out of the bathroom to tug one out into the toilet bowl. Johnny would be half tempted to jerk off onto her mirror just to leave his mark where she could see, but he has some manners. 

He gives himself a nice, leisurely tug with the help of his girl’s expensive hand lotion. It’s not as viscous as the lube in the gallon tub on his nightstand back at the barracks, but it’s a good substitute; makes his hand glide nicely over his shaft.  If he closes his eyes, it even smells like her, like it’s his girl giving him a morning reach around, and part of Johnny wonders whether he was too quick to kick her out of the bathroom. Ghost wouldn’t begrudge him a quick and dirty jerk.

The thought dissolves the longer his hand flies over his dick though. Hard to think about anything outside the present moment when his hand is braced against the wall and his orgasm barrelling towards him. When he comes, it’s with a deep, shuddering grunt, not even bothering to muffle the sound. He hopes his girl hears him from the other room. He hopes it makes her squirm and ache. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, another voice takes him by surprise.

“Johnny. You’re on breakfast.”

Ghost’s voice is gruff in the early morning hours, abrupt. Rarely could it be classified as gentle, but it’s like chert rattling in a leather bag after hours of disuse. Especially since it comes out of nowhere, the man asleep one moment and awake the next. Johnny’s worked with him long enough to not flinch at the sudden sound of his voice, but his girl hasn’t; she yelps when his voice comes unbidden from the couch, big body suddenly upright like he’s been awake the whole time. 

He’s no cook, but Johnny can rustle up eggs and bacon like any other self-respecting serviceman. On deployment, they used to rotate cooking duty every night, no one skilled enough to take over the post permanently. Still, Johnny eyes Ghost worriedly when he takes a seat across from the bird at her little kitchen table. It’s not a table meant for two grown men, just a small wooden thing with four chairs, only enough for one on each side. It means that Ghost’s knees knock against hers when he takes the chair across from her, forcing her to curl up into herself, tucking her legs under the chair. 

He stares her down. Menacing eyes. Not the kind of man you want sitting across from you, no matter the circumstances. It makes Johnny anxious to turn his back on them when he has to crack the eggs into the pan, checking over his shoulder religiously. The whites go crispy at the edges before he remembers to flip them over.

“You work downstairs in the flower shop,” Ghost says bluntly, breaking the silence. His first words to Bird all morning. Not a question.

“…Yes,” Bird answers gingerly. Her palms are clamped over her knees, sweating likely. “I own it.”

“Since when?” He doesn’t blink before firing off another question.

“Um…two years.”

“Where’d you work before?”

“In…in London. I was a shopgirl there though—”

“Where’s your family from then?”

It goes on that way for a time, an interrogation with no rhyme or reason. Even Johnny has to wonder at Ghost’s intentions—knows that there’s no shot that Ghost hasn’t already done a background check on her. Why interrogate the bird then? Why rattle off question after question in such quick succession? Why make her tremble and look down at the tabletop and stutter out her answers and fidget under his stare—

He notices Ghost’s hand slip beneath the table to grip his length, spreading his legs to help readjust.

Ah. Mean bastard. Of course he’d get off on making her squirm.

The bacon burns. Johnny can’t help it. He listens attentively to her clear voice—softer in the morning hours, still sleep-laden and flowery—whispering out her life’s story, dick getting hard behind the kitchen island. He bites his lip to hold back a moan when she trips over her words. Thrusts forward to rub his bulge against the underside of the island when she chews on her lip, relieving some of the pressure. It drives him mad that there’s a wet cunt going unsatisfied just a few feet away. 

Ghost shoots him a sharp look as if he can hear his thoughts. “Johnny.”

He turns around to flip the burner off.

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

THIS IS A RANT ABT COD FICS

Guys lmk if you share this same opinion because it drives me crazy. If you enjoy this just ignore it because it obviously isn’t aimed at you please don’t be dim.

But does anyone else hate when a fic is labelled as cod x reader and the characters spend most of the fic being gay with each other 😭

Like I’m not into throuples and I’m also not into gay men like when I read an x reader fic I’m expecting me to be the centre of attention yk unless the fic is literally supposed to be a throuple. Like say for example the entire fic is about you joining ghoap or smth that’s fine because I already know what I’m getting into. But when I read a story and they’re all gay for each other when it’s supposed to be about ME pisses me off 😭😭😭

I also really hate it when people make the 141 boys just absolute pussies. Like these are British military men they will likely be cocky assholes not shy or emotional.

And when a fic is an x reader and the characters nationality has nothing to do with the story but they make you American 😔😔😔 it acc really throws me off and makes me not enjoy the story anymore because if there’s no need to add it why add it? Also what is an American doing on a British military base anyway? Sometimes the story NEEDS the reader to be American if they work for the CIA or something but why add it if it’s not relevant because now I am thrown off balance and if there’s anything a British person fears it’s being forced to be an American

Thanks for reading my rant guys 💙

Edit: hey guys I see some people seem to be getting upset over this post and I’m here to say IDC!! If you see it’s a rant and decide to get mad over that then that is simply YOUR problem!! I never said other people couldn’t enjoy these tropes but I am allowed to dislike it and actively talk about my dislike of it because it is 💖my opinion💖 and you trying to say I can’t have an opinion is very Adolf hitler of you uwu

Anyways, cry all you want but if you comment I will laugh about it <3

[auspicioustidings]

Oh hey dat me! Man I really need to write the next chapter of this fic :')

(But also I think there may be other fake death Soap fics so could also not be me!)

To answer the previous anon’s question, the fix is called “Ae Fond Kiss” by @auspicioustidingswritings

OH MY GODDDD i fucking knew i read it somewhere 😭 ngl i’m disappointed in myself that i couldn’t find it myself 😭

thank you!! <33

[moody-alcoholic]

The Missing Piece

AO3 Link

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

MDNI +18 content, you know the drill this is a smutty series. I have plenty of SFW content though so don't threat check that out!

Chapters marked with * contain smut.

masterlist

Part 1 - Coffee

Part 2 - Dinner Date

Part 3 - Sleepover

Part 4 - Teasing*

Part 5 - Brunch*

Part 6 - Making them feel good*

Part 7 - Boundaries

Part 8 - Shopping

Part 9 - Gala*

Part 10 - The morning after

Part 11 - Deployment

Part 12 - Scapegoat

Part 13 - Family

Part 14 - Truth*

Part 15 - Broken

Part 16 - Death in the family

Part 17 - Protection*

Part 18 - Safehouse*

Part 19 - Uninvited guest

Part 20 - The Hunt

Part 21 - Hurt

Part 22 - Decisions*

Epilogue

——————————

Bonus scenes/ chapters

Johnny suggests bedroom fun*

Birthday Sex*

Bonfire Night*

Johnny & Simon's flat in sims 4

[alnilaem]

let's talk about ghost's fat cock

like gossiping hens who're all talking about their experience with mr. morose and his heaving meat cleaver over a couple of wine bottles lmao

(btw screamed when you followed back)

TONI! HI!! ❤️

i can picture reader and Johnny in some ghoap throuple discussing how… well-endowed Ghost is. they’re so cute. maybe he braids her hair while they chat and giggle or something LOL

also to tack on your recent drabble of ghost/reader who’s a shelf-stocker has glued itself onto my eyelids. i loooove myself a humdrum and prose-like reader being observed by Ghost like she’s under a petri dish… where she’s reluctantly invisible and he’s invisible by choice