#ghostsoap fanfiction

[nightofthelivingtrashcan]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John "Soap" MacTavish, All implied lol Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty) (mentioned), Original Characters, minor - Character Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, POV Outsider, Werewolf John "Soap" MacTavish, Werewolf Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Gunshot Wounds, Minor Injuries, Protective John "Soap" MacTavish, BAMF John "Soap" MacTavish, BAMF Simon "Ghost" Riley, BAMF Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, why isn’t that a tag wtf, Author Has Never Played Call Of Duty, Established Relationship, John "Soap" MacTavish Loves Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley Loves John "Soap" MacTavish Series: Part 1 of Pack Mates Summary:

Everyone knew about the wolves of 141, and The Ghost was the scariest of them all.

Or was he?

The original characters are just some throwaway privates observing everything lol please read this 🥺🥺

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 1: Here’s Your One Chance | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A permanent darkness rests over the city. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city and the constant chill on your skin.

Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century due to pollution and overpopulation. It will turn your lungs black before the age of five without the proper protection.

Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway.

You squeeze into a black mini dress, tying your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own - the only thing worthy of this club. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips. Red lipstick as a final touch. It’s corny, you know, but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.

This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums. To at least make it to the middle city. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.

You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore.

The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles a bit as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop in the upper city. The one that blows all the grime and smog downhill.

The club sits square in central downtown - the bottom level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. It sparkles underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.

You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you.

It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the hunger in their eyes when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light. When your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses.

It’s hard work. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your future.

“Hey! New girl!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.

You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Ruin everything? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. “Y-yes, sir?”

“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.

“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“

“We had a call out. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”

Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear his words. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are harsh and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold…

“You paying attention?” He grunts.

Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”

“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.

Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…

With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough tips to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!

Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your hands and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of four thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.

You slowly head for the back booth - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far more quiet here. The music from the floor muffled by distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight. They could be anyone.

You hope they aren’t the type to get rough.

Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting around the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.

They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly.

“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable customer service headspace you’ve curated over the years. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”

“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body slack and comfortable.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. One of your earliest memories is her lifting you into her arms and spinning around to the song. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.

“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.

“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.

Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.

The illusion of luxury only goes so far.

“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir.”

“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.

John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.

“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red from 2089.”

John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes glow in the low bar light. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”

“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?

John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”

“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.

“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”

“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”

“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“

“Enough of that. Theres a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.

How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.

Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.

“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him.

You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.

Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades. They’re cold and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.

“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“

“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. “A bonnie thing like ye…”

“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.

“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.

Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.

“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”

John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”

“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”

“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.

“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.

It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.

You carefully refill each of their glasses. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s hand rests on your upper thigh. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.

Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.

“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.

“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just smells incredible.” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.

“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down. That feeling comes back.

Prey. You’re just prey.

“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at your mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you.

“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.

“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”

“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it.

“Alright boys, time for business.” John sighs. He suddenly grabs your chin, turning you to face him. It’s a light touch, not too rough but solid. His pupils dilate and yours with them. “You’ll forget everything we say from now until I snap my fingers.”

The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.

It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.

“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.

You were compelled - you know that much. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… touched. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.

“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”

“I’m okay...” You whisper.

“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.

A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by several empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.

John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.

Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood and pleasure - laughing as they went.

You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”

They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.

You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.

“I’m sure.”

John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.

“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.

Strange.

“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.

John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They feel heavier in your hand the normal.

A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”

Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.

Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.

How much is this? A thousand? More?

With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t even get to say thank you.

Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare.

What do they think you did?

Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.

How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?

Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.

The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it?

There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are.

It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.

Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!

For now, at least, you can bask in it.

[bunnys-kisses]

three parts of a whole

simon 'ghost' riley & john 'soap' mactavish

cw: smut/pwp, threesome, girlfriend!reader, unprotected sex, innocent!reader, size kink/difference, eventual polyam relationship (yay), accidental pregnancy , oral sex (simon receives), reverse cowgirl, couch sex

dating simon meant dating johnny. johnny was loyal to a fault and a great friend. simon honestly felt bad for him, even though he had looks that could kill and a winning personality, it felt like the world of dating apps were stacked against him!

"all the best ones are behind a paywall, johnny." simon assured him once. that was what you had told simon.

you and simon met at the grocery store when you overestimated your strength and tried to pick up a rather large watermelon to enjoy with the summer heat and dropped it mere inches away from simon's foot. the fruit exploded and you offered to pay for cleaning his shoes!

but instead he asked for your number and have been a pair ever since. you were a good sport too, a little on the innocent side with those pouty lips and little spatial awareness when you were out in public. you wanted to see johnny happy too!

so, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that after the three of you had dinner at the flat you and simon shared, that it would result in the three of you making out in the living room.

it didn't help that the three of you were sharing a lovely bottle of wine that simon brought back from a mission in france. by the time dinner ended, you were laughing as you were trying to pour the last bit of wine in johnny's mouth. which ended with both men kissing at you.

"ain't she a treat, johnny." simon laughed.

"oh yeah, si. she feels real good. wonder what that pussy must feel like." johnny replied, his words hot in your ear.

their large hands on you as they tried to get rid of the clothes you were wearing. your pussy felt wet in your panties as simon's slowly took off the shorts you were wearing followed by johnny taking off your shirt. you in turn carefully got both men undressed.

simon sat on the couch with his legs open, you between them doing a reverse cowgirl on johnny, who's face was in your neck. it was an odd arrangement, but no one was going without.

johnny's rough hands felt good on your soft hips. as did his cock nestled in you.

"better treat 'er good, johnny." simon said, "remember the only other person she's been with is me. i think i set the bar pretty high."

you rubbed your face against simon's exposed cock and looked up at him, "si, don't gloat. not nice." you pouted at him for a brief moment before you kissed the slick tip of his cock.

his hand went in your hair as he cooed, "of course, love. now you take good of our guest for the evenin'. don't want him to go home without a story to bring with him."

you nodded eagaerly, like a good little puppy. then placed your mouth on his cock and started to move your hips up and down johnny's cock while you sucked your boyfriend's cock.

you used simons' strong thighs to steady yourself as you worked their cocks. the feeling left you hot all over. you wanted to do right by both men, have them earn their fill.

they were so much bigger than you, in every sense of the word. simon always said that he could easily break you if he wasn't careful. but now you had two cock's inside of you from two bulky men who'd love nothing more than to cream in your sweet holes.

fill you up nice and good with a striking reminder of them.

you aimed to please, that was what simon taught you when you first started to get intimate. of course, they'd take care of you in return. to have both cocks bullied inside of you felt good. it made something flutter in your stomach.

"such a good lass." johnny groaned, "holy shit. you've been hidin' 'er for too long there, simon." his hands clutched onto your hips.

"ain't sharin' with everyone, johnny. she still mine, remember."

johnny chuckled and kissed at your neck, "how about she's both of ours?" you moaned against his touch which only excited him more. his hands soon went north to your breasts and toyed with them.

simon looked at johnny and said, "don't get cocky, sargent."

"never, l.t. now while our girl is snug on my cock." he pushed a little harder.

"yeah, next time you can eat 'er out after i finish in her." simon warned. the idea made both of you moan and he added, "insatiable, the likes of ya." then pushed your mouth further on his cock. he loved his sweet girl's throat, he also loved your pussy, your ass, your small hands, the space between your breasts. he even loved when you delicately nuzzled his cock.

he had taught you enough about sex that you were always a box of surprises. he watched you pleasure him and ride johnny. johnny looked almost blissed out by the entire thing. simon guessed that johnny hadn't even had his cock wet in a while.

simon held your head as he thrusted into your throat, egged on by your moans. you felt so perfect around him and he knew that johnny felt the same. pretty little thing.

the three of you rutted against one another. the sloppy sounds of sex filled the air. but the men you were pleasuring were starting to feel close to their climaxes.

therefore, their grips on you became tighter. they were egged on by your sweet muffled noises. johnny was really seeing hearts in his eyes at the sight of you.

a sweet cook, a sweet girlfriend, a sweet fuck.

simon lucked out,and johnny guessed he did too.

"here is comes, bonnie." the scotsman groaned as his thrusts became more erratic.

simon chuckled and looked down at you, "he's got quite the mouth on him." and held your face. you looked back at him and smiled through the daze of your lust.

you lucked out.

both men quickly came in you as you really worked johnny's cock to achieve your own orgasm. you rested against your boyfriend's thigh and panted, the taste of his cum in your mouth as you worked the scotman's cock. you came on johnny's cock even as he was growing soft.

with simon's swimmers down your throat and johnny's in your cervix. you felt elated and hot all over. but you didn't notice the look in simon's eye as he picked you up off of johnny's cock and placed you on top of his. the stretch once more made you cunt ache.

it was going to be a long, long night.

-

months later, johnny never really went home. physically he went back to his flat only a street over. but he was always over after that. especially now that you ended up pregnant.

the night the three of you spent resulted in an accidental pregnancy. the problem was that none of you knew who the father was. both simon and johnny finished inside you more than once that evening. so of course johnny was going to take full responsibility, and moved all of his stuff into the flat you and simon shared.

currently you were getting simon to check the temperature of the lamb in the oven because you were at a point in your pregnancy that neither you nor the wee lad inside you liked when you were bent over for too long. johnny was mashing the potatoes and earned a stern look from you when he tried to have a little bit of it.

"johnny."

"sorry, bonnie." he grinned. he could hear simon chuckle.

johnny didn't need to worry about apps anymore, or awkward first dates. he got to come home to a nice home with two happy partners and a baby on the way.

and sure, if the baby was simon's in the end, it just meant that the next one would be johnny's! <3

[konigsblog]

hihihihihi my birthday’s coming up! almost 22 and all i can think about is getting railed by ghostsoap… the worst part? m’not ashamed at all…

(I hope you have a fantastic day, my sweet! 🎂🎉)

Simon and Johnny wouldn't be gentle with a dirty, seductive little thing like you. You knew exactly what you were doing when you rested your soft, warm hands on their tense and sore neck while they were trying to focus on a new report. Price has specifically asked for this to be finished today, and the deadline was far too close for you to be mucking around like this.

How could they punish a filthy, needy thing like you? The answer was obvious, clear as daylight, or at least for them. They can see the way you admire their skilled work on the battlefield, how you look up at them for approval and support. They know that their words leave a lasting effect on you, creating a sticky patch of wetness inside your panties.

It was Johnny's idea to punish you, and the fantasy was one Simon wouldn't dare turn down. Perhaps you thought your punishment would be an extra lap, since you came across as more than confused when they found you, pushing you to your knees without an explanation. A part of you enjoyed being scolded and ordered around by your superiors, and you found it more than amusing when you'd finished another lap or another set of punishments with ease, a grin plastered on your face.

They cornered you, left you vulnerable beneath their perverted gaze as they ordered you to open your mouth, otherwise they'd ruthlessly pry your jaw open. You giggled, sticking your tongue out for both men to jerk off to, to slap their thick and creamy cockheads on your tongue. They took turns using that disobedient little mouth, mocking you for the tears that quickly replaced that smug expression on your face.

Then, they'd bend you over Simon's desk. Simon slid and rolled his sensitive tip back and forth between your soft slit and up to your sensitive and overstimulated clit, gently pushing inside before retreating backwards, taunting you while you cried out for more. Johnny, on the other hand, didn't waste a second fucking your mouth. He cupped your head and held you firmly by the jaw, driving his sturdy and well-built hips back and forth, fucking your tight throat relentlessly.

Once Simon pushed inside, he couldn't help himself. The gummy and velvety texture, along with the pulsing and tightening sensation drove him insane. Your tongue pressed against the underside of Johnny's cock while his tip smacked against the back of your throat was hypnotising and intoxicating, and both men couldn't help themselves – hold back their perverted and gross urges, as they lost themselves inside your tight holes.

[stoutguts]

Even though I'm a Ghoap/NikPrice/GazRoach enjoyer myself, I’mma just say—

PRICEGHOST AND SOAPGAZ ENJOYERS ARE BASED AS FUCK, AND I TIP MY HAT TO THE POLY141 AND ROACHGHOST/ROACHSOAP OR ROACHxSOAPxGHOST etc.

I see y’all, and I love you 😘

Please continue what you are doing, lesser known ships deserve more love fr

[forestshadow-wolf]

Hey guys, just a reminder to really really REALLY start to download your fics from ao3

If you don't want to do it yourselves I have a link in my pinned post where you can give me fics to download and also access the fics that are downloaded. Right now it is organized just by author, that might change as time goes on, it depends.

I will start checking the form more often for requests

At some point in the future I will also start downloading them onto an empty flashdrive I have.

[literatecowboy]

Kinktober 2024

5. Bondage

warnings: Soap x Ghost x Reader (throuple); face sitting; nickname 'pup'; fem reader; its reader's present;

“A wee bit tighter…there ye go, LT. That’s perfect,” Soap said, double checking the knot and giving it a tug to ensure it would hold. 

“Sure you don’t want me to put a bow on your head? Think it’d look cute on you, Johnny,” Ghost said, picking up one of the other ropes from the pile. Johnny offered his wrists, and Ghost took them, tying them carefully behind the Scot’s back. 

“Nah, don’t want to wait on her to unwrap me. Besides, there’s bows on all her other gifts,” Johnny said. Ghost snorted. 

“Impatient pup,” he murmured, taking one of the ropes that crisscrossed Johnny’s chest into his fist and pulling the Scot close, pressing his lips to his. Johnny groaned into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. He rolled his shoulders, and Ghost pulled away slowly. 

“Comfy?” Ghost asked, running his hands down Johnny’s sides. 

“Very. Help me get into position and then go get our girl, Simon,” Johnny said, rising awkwardly from where he sat. Ghost helped him arrange himself on his knees on the bed before stepping away. 

—

“Just a few more steps, love. Keep coming,” Ghost murmured, guiding you by your hands as he lead you into your bedroom.

“Okay, one more guess. Is it a puppy?” you asked, a smile on your lips. 

“In a manner of speaking,” Ghost said, shutting the door behind you. “Go on, take the blindfold off.” 

You gasped as you lifted your blindfold off and it fluttered to the floor. Johnny knelt before you on the bed, smiling, his cheeks tinged pink. 

“Happy birthday, bonnie,” he murmured. You felt heat rush to your face, and you giggled. 

“You’ve always wanted our pup tied up and begging for you. Now’s your chance,” Ghost murmured, embracing you from behind and gently sliding one of his hands up your shirt. 

“Oh, yes. And you’re okay?” you asked Johnny, shivering from excitement as warmth stirred in the pit of your stomach. 

“More than okay, bonnie. Come sit on my face,” Johnny whined, squirming on the bed. Ghost squeezed your breast tenderly. 

“Go on, give him a go,” he murmured into your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. He guided you onto the bed and you knelt before Johnny. Though you’d been with your boyfriends a dozen times before, this new arrangement was incredibly arousing. You leaned forward, running your hands over the ropes that crisscrossed Johnny’s body as you kissed him. 

His cock throbbed against his stomach at your touch and he groaned. Ghost ran his fingers through his hair before sliding his hand down his back and squeezing his ass. 

“Poor pup, all worked up,” he cooed, and you smiled, taking the head of Johnny’s cock between two fingers. 

“Such an eager toy for me,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You made short work of your clothes, your nipples hardening in the cool air and making Johnny whine, writhing where he knelt. 

“Pretty, isn’t she, pup?” Ghost cooed, stroking Johnny’s cock slowly as they watched you undress. 

“Please sit on my face,” he whined, doing his best to lay back despite the ropes binding him. You helped him get situated before crawling up over his body, dragging your fingers over your clit before lowering yourself onto Johnny’s face. 

His cock twitched as his moans were muffled and you gasped as he shoved his tongue into you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your back arched as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently and making you writhe with pleasure. 

“Johnny!” you moaned, grinding down against his face as he devoured you, pushing his face deeper into your wetness. 

“Think you deserve a reward for making our girl feel so good, Johnny,” Simon purred, tugging his shirt over his head and sliding his pants and boxers off. He crawled onto the bed, tugging his hard cock as he settled between Johnny’s legs, spreading lube over his fingers before sliding one into Johnny. 

Johnny’s back arched and he moaned into your wetness. The vibrations against your clit made you gasp, and you trembled as that in combination with Johnny’s devourment of you made you cum. Pleasure washed over you in waves and you jerked and trembled, slumping forward and crawling off of Johnny’s face as you caught your breath.

Ghost slid another finger into Johnny and kept pumping them in and out, making Johnny moan and writhe on the bed. 

“Fuck…!” he cried. He turned his head to where you lay, your wetness drenching his face. 

“Lass, please. Ride me while Simon fucks me,” he begged. You pulled him in for a sloppy kiss before straddling his hips, nodding. 

Ghost slowly pulled his fingers out of Johnny, making him whine, but his whines turned to moans again as Ghost guided you onto Johnny’s cock. You both moaned in tandem as you sank onto him, the stretch sending waves of pleasure through you. 

Ghost pressed slowly into Johnny after you reached the base of his cock, making the Scot writhe and moan beneath you. 

“Fuck, yer gonna be the death of me. Both of ye,” he gasped, trembling. You slowly rocked your hips against him, grabbing the ropes that bound his chest and using them to pull yourself down into a kiss. 

As you rode Johnny, Ghost fucked him, sending you both sliding up the bed. You slammed your hips down into him, grinding your clit into his pelvis. As you moaned, Ghost reached around you and gently thumbed your clit, biting tenderly into your neck. 

“Fuck! I can’t last like this,” Johnny whined, his body trembling under the pleasure of your bounces and Ghost’s thrusts. 

“Let the lady cum first, Johnny,” Ghost said, picking up speed as he rubbed your clit. 

“Go on, love, cum on Johnny’s cock,” he purred in your ear. You fell over the cliff of pleasure, falling forward onto Johnny’s chest, your body spasming and your cunt tightening around his cock as you came. Johnny came almost immediately after, coating your insides with cum as he bucked his hips up into you. 

With a few last, deep, thrusts Ghost came last, his groan deafening as he came inside Johnny, leaning over your shoulder to kiss the Scot tenderly. 

You caught your breath together. Ghost was the first to step away but he returned quickly with a blade, cutting Johnny free and helping him massage the areas that had been bound. 

You pulled Johnny into an embrace as Ghost spooned you, sandwiched comfortably between your boyfriends as you came down from your highs.

[theglassmeadow]

My lieutenant emerged from his weighted jacket pile and doesn't know when or where he is .

The "yours to keep" series of fics on AO3 single-handedly pushed me over the edge and made me finally do call of duty fanart i hope youre proud of yourself anonymous author

[darth-mortem]

Here is a sad snippet that @amikoroyaiart masterpiece inspired me to do. 636 words.

“Talk to me, Ghost".

Riley didn’t answer. It seemed as if he hadn't heard the words spoken to him at all over the noise of the downpour and the waves rolling over the large stones at the shore. They stood on the pier, and the sharp, cold wind blew in relentless gusts, penetrating their equipment, clothing, and skin, making their bodies freeze to the bone.

Soap didn't call out to Ghost again. He knew that on days like this, when the terrible shadows of the past surround Simon and bind his soul with icy chains, he needed time to return to reality. MacTavish just reached out, lightly touching Riley's shoulder, and then lit a cigarette, covering it from the rain. A minute passed, then another, and then Ghost moved and slowly turned his head toward Soap.

“What about?” He asked vaguely, as if the question had been asked of him only a second ago.

“I dinnae know.” Johnny shrugged and smiled. “Let's talk about cinema! Do you like action movies?”

“No.” Simon shook his head and lit up a cigarette too. “I have enough ‘action movies’ in my life.”

“Then what?” Soap tilted his head in interest.

Ghost was silent, looking off into the distance, where the cold, foggy sea merged with the equally cold, leaden sky. MacTavish touched his shoulder again and squeezed it lightly, letting him know that he could speak frankly and not be afraid of ridicule or condemnation.

“I like movies about animals.” Simon finally answered. “Only those with a good ending.”

Johnny smiled gently, realizing once again that despite all the suffering, there was a kind heart underneath the frightening image of Ghost.

“Ye know, I like them too.” Soap said. “Dinnae tell anyone, but when I watched ‘Lassie’, I cried like a baby, and I was fifteen years old.”

Ghost looked at him warily at first, but then, realizing that Johnny wasn't mocking him, he took off his rain-dripping sunglasses and smiled weakly under his balaclava. Soap realized this when he saw Riley’s sad blue eyes squint.

“I heard there was a movie about whales recently.” Simon said that and was silent for a few seconds, remembering the title. “It's called ‘The Big Miracle’. Maybe we can watch it together when we have a leave.”

“I'd love to!” Soap smiled again and put his arm around Ghost's shoulders. “Now, can we go inside? Ye know there's no need to stand guard ‘ere. And I think thir's some Bourbon left in the kitchen.”

Simon nodded, and they walked down the pier to the small cabin that 141 used as his safehouse.

***

“Talk to me, Ghost.”

Riley didn’t answer. He would never answer again: his life taken by a traitorous bullet, his body burned in hellish flames, and his scarred and maimed soul... MacTavish didn’t know what had happened to it. He had once believed in God as a child, but then he saw so much evil that he could no longer. However, he hoped that if there is a heaven, Simon is there now, next to his mother, brother, and little nephew Joseph; that his scars are gone, his old wounds no longer hurt; and that he doesn’t need his skull balaclava. Also, Johnny secretly hoped that when his life was cut short by a bullet, a knife, or maybe a grenade, he too would be in that wonderful place, next to Simon, whom he loved with all his heart and continued to love no matter what.

A heavy hand rested on MacTavish's shoulder, and he flinched in surprise, though he knew it could only be Captain Price.

“Time to go, son.” He said, staying a little behind Johnny. “Aye.” Soap nodded, quickly ran his sleeve over his face, wiping away his tears, and they walked together to the helicopter.

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco

Main masterlist

It’s not easy, being the one that’s always left behind.

Ghost x Soap x female reader - throuple fic

AO3 All works are 18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 1 You should have gotten out. Chapter 2 The guys discover you're gone. Chapter 3 You open the door. Chapter 4 Conversations. Chapter 5 The three of you go shopping. Chapter 6 The guys propose a field trip. Chapter 7 It's better when they're here. Chapter 8 The guys gets back Chapter 9 Simon struggles with the aftermath of his words Chapter 10 You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt. Chapter 11 Johnny struggles Chapter 12 You make a decision Chapter 13 Johnny comes home Chapter 14 The storm Epilogue

Other works: Help I'm Alive Calculation Theme - the first time On a Slow Night / On a Slow Night - follow up ask / On a Slow night precursor ask Combat Baby Front Row How did the guys meet darling?

Asks: Marriage Q Chapter 3-4 Q Dynamic Q Job Q Period Q Couch Q The fights Q The threesomes Q Simon + Darling Q

Sick fic Q

Not canon angst: No way RIP What if MW3 was real for Dead Disco

Moodboard and playlist

Dead Disco AUs

[meowmeowriley]

Soap and Rabbit shifter Ghost who take their leave in Las Almas to help rebuild Alejandro's base that they were partially responsible for destroying.

Soap, who begs his Lieutenant to shift, to help him make a joke.

Ghost, who caves, because it's Johnny.

Alejandro, who greets them as they get off the plane with "Did you bring any of that famous stew you were on about the entire time you were here last, hermano?"

Soap, carrying a shifted Ghost, who responds "Nae, it's better fresh." With a huge grin before pretending that the rabbit wriggled out of his grasp.

Rudy, who on that day realized he had a fear of rabbits as one chased him across the tarmac.

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

[bunnys-kisses]

i've had a horrid idea in my head, don't look at me! (maid!reader feat. soap & ghost)

so basically

you get hired through the cleaning service that you work for, to help keep a house outside the city nice and clean. you are a bit confused why whoever hired you needed a maid who lived over two hours away. but, you were assured that it would be worth it and shuffled off.

you thankfully only had two go twice a week, mondays and wednesdays with your day off in the middle. the pay was above standard, pictures of the home were shown, along with profiles of the owners.

simon riley and john mactavish. they were army men who wouldn't be at the house as much as most customers. which was a relief. this was not however the case, as the more you spent coming over the house to clean, the more they seemed to be around.

the blond one with the face scars was simon and the burnette with the mohawk and the scottish accent was johnny (he made you call im johnny). it would taken several months before they made the first move.

it started with johnny brushing up against your backside while he was in nothing but pajama pants. his erection against you.

then the snowstorm happened. you were about the go home, determined to drive when the snow came down in heaps. the snowflakes were almost as big as a two pence coin.

you ended up staying, and johnny brought out the whisky! he told you it was the good stuff from the highlands as he served you a healthy glass. it still burned like a bastard when it went down, the disgusted face you made caused the other two men to laugh. when you tried to use the bathroom you heard simon's voice ring out, "oh, there she goes!". as the snow hit the ground outside, you got drunk with your customers.

which then resulted in coy kisses, followed by loud fucking in simon's room. it had the bigger bed but it didn't matter because your hands and knees ached by the of the night. as did the back of your throat (you couldn't talk the morning after) and your pussy (you sat in weird positions to ease the pain for a week after).

simon and johnny were bullies to you sexually. you were twisted like a pretzel as both men just fucked you without abandon. you were left gasping and it didn't help that it turned you on too! you were such a bad maid, but it was hard to believe yourself when both men grumbled your praises as they moved you once more to get at just the right angle.

you tried to give the appearance of keeping it professional, but when you ended up back at work your boss told you that simon and john needed more help before their deployment, so she had moved your customers to other maids.

your priority was to help those men anyway you could! "they're serving our country! they need as much as they can before they leave once more!"

it wouldn't take long before you pretty much moved your life into their home. when you called the resign from your job at the maid agency, johnny was between your legs while you were sitting on the kitchen counter. your free hand was in his mohawk, yanking on the strands. he had spent all morning encouraging you to quit your job, which mean being laid out behind you with his hand down the front of your panties. his calloused fingers rubbing your clit until you were practically yelping from the overstimulation!

one night when you were "helping them" simon was gone for several hours and came back with boxes of your stuff. everything was put in neatly, when you tried to ask why he simply said, "you can't be wearing our civvies forever." (as if the two men weren't going to buy you clothes or anything else you needed). but it was nice to have some stuff with you. you never asked how he got into the apartment though.

sometimes the boys will still play maid with you. johnny liked it when he got to push up the skirt of the maid's dress you were wearing and simon liked when he got to tear the garter under the skirt right off. johnny's cock was soon balls deep in your while simon licked your clit.

paycheck wasn't necessary anymore, not while you were living with them full time. living in the city was nice, you would always cherish your time in it! but it was a lot nicer being sandwiched between two burly men who would capture the sun and the moon and serve it to you on a silver platter. <3

[konigsblog]

DID I HEAR PUP!SOAP + PUP!READER WITH OWNER!SIMON??? ORLA I BEG IM IN HEAT (ovulating)

more pup!soap + pup!reader + owner!ghost, you say?

tw/cw; pet play, humping, johnny is in ‘heat’. MDNI 18+ 🐾

johnny can't control his desire to rub his aching boner against you during his heat. simon would usually intervene and prevent his perfect puppy from getting hurt, but he wasn't home right now. although johnny is well trained, he misbehaves when simon isn't watching, putting the blame on you when simon comes home to another pillow ripped up.

you're playing with your toys inside of your puppy cage, chewing on a bone, before you feel johnny grind against you suddenly. johnny's sharp nails dig into your soft flesh, the supple fat spilling from his fingers when he grips your thighs tightly. johnny rubs his bulbous, leaking cock back and forth between your thighs, the tip of his length dripping with his orgasm, creamy stickiness smeared all over your drooling cunt.

you whine and howl at johnny for being such a pervert. it's not a one-time thing either.

johnny will wake you up, howling at you sadly in an attempt to convince you to let him eat you out, out of sympathy or pity. the ears on johnny's head are low, the tail plug in your asshole leaving you stuffed with simon's load from earlier. god, although johnny finds your presence irritating and doesn't appreciate you stealing all the attention, he doesn't like when simon has his way with you.

he's overprotective of you, as if you're a toy of his. you nod sleepily, allowing him to do whatever he pleases out of desperation for sleep. johnny rolls his warm tongue over your slick cunt, your sensitive clit causing you to pulse against his tongue. you're sensitive, shaking and whining out in pain and agony. the tight sensation of your pussy leaves johnny blissful, tasting your sweet juices on his taste buds.

he may pull the plug from your rear and eat simon's load of jealousy. you're his toy, not simons. :(

[soapsbaby]

Ghost / Soap / Reader heacanons

Idea: Soap, Ghost and the reader are in a poly relationship Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, afab reader Rating: 18+ (minors DNI) Themes: Submissive reader, humiliation, praise, mask, overstimulation, threesomes, oral sex, dp mention, just general N S F W themes Word count: 700ish

You haven’t even dated for that long but you are already sure that they are the ones for you, just for how easily you get along and how taken care of you feel by them. You know you can talk about anything with them.

They rarely get jealous of each other, considering that you have more than enough love to give to both of them, but they certainly get competitive when it comes to pleasing you. More than once they have turned you into a shaking mess because one had to prove to the other how many times they could make you cum and how much faster they could do it than the other.

Simon is more ruthless with you while Johnny makes sure you get praised and are taken care of (not that Simon doesn’t do that, he just doesn’t do so as vocally as Johnny does.) I know he’s big, but look how well you are taking him. You’re doing so well, being so pretty for us. Simon, look how pretty she looks. Tell her how good she is, Simon. Simon usually isn’t very vocal, but he will always follow Johnny’s orders to praise you.

Double penetration is, well, almost impossible considering their sizes, but you’re working on it. Usually now they take turns or one takes your pretty mouth while the other gets to fuck your pussy.

All three of you prefer if all of you are present, but at times when one of you is not in the mood it can just be two of you. It can be you alone with one of the boys, but Simon and Johnny adore each other as well and can make do without you too.

They know you have a thing for their uniforms so they often do you the favor of keeping them on. Some of your favorite times of having sex with them is if they just came home from work, sweaty and riled up and you were their toy to fuck their frustrations out on. You never mind when they do.

They love leaving you covered in marks before missions, bruises, hickeys, bite marks, whatever you can think of. Don’t want you to forget about us, hm?

All three of you are the type to send suggestive pictures to one another when you have to be apart. Simon sends dick pics, Johnny is the type to sneak away so he can send videos of him jerking off, moaning your name. You also love sending them whatever you can to get them riled up and frustrated and ready to ruin you when they finally get home. 

They get super possessive of you whenever anyone tries to approach you. You can imagine what would happen if you are at a club and someone disrespects you and your two guard dog boyfriends come up to you, hands on your shoulders, a cold smile on their lips. Need some help, baby?

They like showing you off, their pretty girl in a dress they chose for you, sitting on their laps in public so everyone can see who you belong to and that you are off limits for everyone else. One specialty of them is having you sit in Johnny`s lap, him kissing down your neck while Simon gets to make out with you.

They adore teasing you until you are just begging for them to fuck you, be it casually touching you or just whispering things into your ear until you are on the verge of tears because you want them so badly. Soap is usually the one to give in first, he can’t resist his sweet girl while Ghost is the one who keeps you waiting for longer. He simply gets too much pleasure out of seeing you begging and desperate. 

Aftercare with them is heaven. Imagine being sandwiched by the two men you are head over heels in love with, telling you that you are their perfect girl that they’d do anything for and how well you did. If you are too tuckered out they’ll completely take care of you, carry you to the bathroom, clean you up and give you a bath and then afterwards cuddle up in bed with you, showering you in kisses.

[buglord-isaac]

Soap wakes up from a bad dream and can’t go back to sleep. He feels insanely alone. So he gets up and walks the halls. When he passes Ghost’s room, he stops. He checks to see if the door is locked. It is. He sighs and sits at the door. Eventually he falls asleep leaning against the door. In the morning, he wakes up falling into Ghosts room as Ghost opens the door.

Later that day, Ghost asks why he was sleeping there of all places. Soap tells him it was the only place he could sleep. The place he felt least lonely.

A few days later, Ghost pulls Soap aside and hands him a key. “A copy of my room key. If you’re lonely, you can come into my room and sleep there. I have a comfortable chair and a desk. Just don’t wake me up or there’s a chance I’ll stab you.”

Ghost wakes up in the morning and he gets spooked when he sees Soap fast asleep on his desk. Eventually, though, he gets used to it. In fact, on the nights where soap doesn’t come to his room he becomes rather disappointed.

One day, soap decides to take a risk. He kneels beside Ghost’s bed and lays his head on the mattress. He plans to sleep like this, but just as he’s drifting off, he feels a hand on his cheek. Ghost is awake, and he’s looking at him. Soap apologises, but Ghost holds onto his wrist to stop him from leaving.

“I sleep better when you’re here.”

Ghost gently and suggestively pulls Soap onto the bed, and they shuffle around until they’re looking at each other in the dark. Soap falls asleep. Ghost stays awake. Now he experiments by nestling into Soap’s chest.

Soap responds in his sleep by curling around Ghost and holding onto him protectively, arms wrapped around his head.

Just the idea of them locking bodies with each other and sleeping more soundly than they ever have makes me so soft